Saturday, March 2, 2003 — 7 p.m.
"If I never have another picture taken of me in my life it will be too soon," Josh grumps as we make our way into the Memorial Union on the campus of the University of Wisconsin.
I don't know why he's griping, we kept the pictures to a bare minimum and most of them were done before the ceremony. All we had to do after were the ones with the both of us in them.
"Quit whining."
The problem is he's frustrated. We spent an extra few minutes in the limo to give our wedding party time to get up to the room, but not long enough to actually do anything except get Josh all hot and bothered.
CJ and Sam took over reception planning months ago. I'm a little afraid of what's in the works because Sam's a little too excited if you ask me.
"Go away. Sam's not ready yet," CJ is guarding the door, arms crossed, attitude engaged.
Josh just smirks at her, pulling me down the hall and around a corner.
"Josh!" I protest to no avail.
***
I shut her up by resuming our activities from the limo.
She can't nag if I'm kissing her.
Welcome to the Joshua Lyman marriage philosophy.
Donna stumbles backward until we encounter the wall of the hallway. I can't begin to figure out how this damn dress works so I settle for running my thumbs over the fabric covering her breasts. She moans against my kiss, bringing her leg up to rub my crotch.
The silk of her dress against my wool trousers has me wishing for a more secluded spot.
"God, you two. Get a room!"
I pull my lips from Donna's just far enough to retort. "Okay."
"I need to drink." The click of CJ's heels signals her departure.
Giving my new wife a series of quick kisses, I attempt to delay the inevitable dog and pony show.
"The sooner the reception is over, the sooner the honeymoon starts," Donna smirks at me a bit, wiping her lipstick from my face.
"I'm going to need index cards for this, aren't I?" I sigh in defeat.
***
Sam introduces us as we enter the ballroom. The novelty of being Mrs. Joshua Lyman' is still fresh and I can't help glowing.
We mingle our way to the buffet, accepting congratulations and well wishes as we go.
Sitting at the head table with us are the President and First Lady, along with our attendants. Josh is to my left; Dr. Bartlet is to my right, then CJ and so on. The President is to Josh's left with Sam and the groomsmen down the line.
Looking down my plate of food, I suddenly realize I'm not at all hungry.
Josh suddenly leans over and whispers, "Do you remember any part of earlier?"
"I was absolutely terrified and I have no idea why. That's all I remember," I admit. "What happened to your cummerbund, by the way?"
He fiddles with the food on his plate; he promised me he'd wear it. "It was uncomfortable."
"You're wearing the suspenders, aren't you?" I really don't mind; I just want to give him a hard time. I think he looks extremely sexy in the suspenders. Even though they really don't go with the white-tie tuxedo.
***
The natives have finished eating and are getting restless when Sam stands up. Taking the microphone from the DJ, he moves to stand behind Donna and I.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us this evening. I'm Sam Seaborn, I'll be your Master of Ceremonies."
Oh Lord. I knew I should have asked Toby to be my best man.
"I realize etiquette says I'm supposed to toast the bride at this point, but I'm going to give that responsibility to someone who is far better at these sorts of things than I am."
Sam pats me on the shoulder and bends down to whisper, "sorry, buddy," before he hands the microphone to President Bartlet and returns to his seat.
"I have to give some credit to Sam, he did offer to write me something, but I thought I'd just wing it." It sounds like he's only half-joking as he stands up and takes Sam's place.
The thunk is Toby's head hitting the table as he realizes what a disaster this could turn into.
***
From my staff's reaction, I get the impression they don't trust me to do this: Josh looks like he wants to disappear under the table and even Donna seems a bit skittish.
We won't talk about Toby.
"I'm sure most of you don't realize it is an absolute miracle we are here today. It's actually several miracles, I suppose. It's a miracle Donna walked away from everything here and drove to New Hampshire. It's a miracle Josh took a chance and hired her. It's a miracle we won, but I think the greatest miracle of all is that we survived and in doing so, gave love an opportunity to blossom."
I raise my glass. "Joshua, Donnatella, may your life together be filled with the joy and love only family can bring you."
***
Sam is a man in his element as he leads us through the cake cutting and then calls us to the dance floor.
"What do you think they picked?"
I share Josh's misgivings. I had a nightmare last night that we ended up dancing to a bad 80's tune by Firehouse.
The DJ rescues his mike from Sam to introduce the song. "I've been told more than one person has concerns about Sam's musical judgment. Someone mentioned Chinese Opera. I don't know what that's about, but I know this isn't too bad a choice."
Josh wraps me in his arms as the eternally profound sounds of Billy Joel echo across the hardwood floor. I ditched my shoes at the dinner table because they were starting to pinch my swollen feet, a smart move that enables me to tuck my head against Josh's chest as we dance.
I don't consider "To Make You Feel My Love" a traditional wedding dance song, but listening to the lyrics, I decide it's perfect.
I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I would not do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you feel my love
There is nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love.
***
"Fred Astaire, you are not," Mom comments.
We're in the midst of the mother/son' dance and it's taking all of my concentration to not step on her feet.
Distracted would be a good adjective to describe me right now. I feel like a show pony being put through my paces.
Mom frowns a bit when I don't answer her. "Something bothering you, Joshua?"
"I'm trying not to step on your feet," I try misdirection.
"Try again."
"It's just Sam's got everything planned. I don't know what's going on for sure and"
"For someone with a planning jinx, you are an unabashed control freak."
My mother has no issues with stepping all over my self-esteem. And she's psychic.
"Yeah."
"You're doing fine, Joshua. Except for the crappy dancing. Just keep doing what you're doing."
I get the feeling she's not just talking about tonight.
"I'll keep that in mind."
***
"Donna, if I didn't know better I'd swear that child belonged to Josh," Abbey Bartlet gestures towards Josh, who is holding Timmy and talking with my Uncle Mike. They really have bonded. Tim latched on to his Unca Joss as soon as Josh was done dancing with his mother and hasn't let go since.
"We decided he needed some hands-on experience before July," I grin mischievously behind my glass of cider. "He's doing better than any of us expected."
We share a laugh before the First Lady's concern gets the better of her. "How are you doing?"
"Pretty well. I'm not to the uncomfortable stage yet. I can still reach my feet," I point in their general direction.
"Swelling?"
"My feet," I admit. "Josh is about ready to go into the shoe wholesale business. He claims it would be cheaper."
"How much weight have you gained?"
This must be how Josh feels when Dr. Griffith comes around. I know she means well, but I've been getting it from all sides this week: my mom, Josh's mom, my grandmother, my aunts and my sister... I don't like thinking about the mother hen act Josh has been doing when the mood strikes him.
"Not as much as my OB wants," I hedge. I'm at 20 weeks; Dr. Williams refuses to freak out, yet.
Sensing she's delving into something I don't want to discuss tonight, Dr. Bartlet gives me one last look before turning back watch to Josh and Timmy, who are now engaged in a game of airplane' around the dance floor. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm always available."
***
The moment I thought would never arrive is finally here.
Tim is asleep.
Granted, he's drooling on my shoulder, but he is dead to the world. Just in time for the limbo competition CJ has spent the last thirty minutes organizing.
Not that I have a chance of winning.
"Here, let me take him," Pat reaches for her son.
"Let's shove a couple of chairs together in a corner," I suggest.
It only takes us a couple of minutes to get him settled. I drape my jacket over his little body, figuring it's covered in his drool already.
Donna is holding up one end of the limbo pole, I stop for a kiss before joining the line.
"Here," she pulls my tie apart and undoes my top shirt button for me. "If you're going to do the Tony Bennett thing, at least do it right."
***
"Aunt Donna?"
Kelly is tugging at my dress, trying to get my attention. I'm making small talk with a group of Dad's colleagues.
"What do you need, sweetie?" I excuse myself and move off to the side to talk to my niece.
"What's knocked up?"
Josh picks now to arrive at my side.
"Where did you hear that?" he asks, sidestepping her question with one of his own.
Kelly looks up at Josh and scrunches her forehead, like she's trying to get the wording exactly right. "Uncle Carl told Great-Aunt Gertrude the only reason you married Aunt Donna is cause you got her knocked up."
Josh squats down in front of her and puts his hands on her arms. "Kelly, that's not why I married your Aunt Donna. I'm a Democrat; we don't have to do those kinds of things. I married your Aunt Donna because I love her very much and I want to spend the rest of my life with her."
I'm torn between being pissed at my Uncle Carl and crying at Josh's sincerity.
"Okay. But what's knocked up?" Kelly won't let go of it.
"Pregnant, sweetie," I explain, using a word I suddenly realize she likely won't comprehend.
"You're gonna have a baby?" Her blue eyes grow wide with amazement and she stares at my belly.
Or maybe she will.
***
Okay, I didn't know what pregnant' was when I was four; I thought babies came from the stork up until Dad explained things to me when I was about ten. Where the hell are kids learning this stuff these days?
"Will you have a girl, so I have someone to play with?" Kelly is looking at Donna with the most earnest expression.
"I don't get much say in it, honey." She leaves out the fact that Kelly lives in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin and we live in Washington, D.C., thereby automatically limiting playtime.
"Uncle Josh, I want it to be a girl!" Kelly turns to me, like I have some sort of mystical power to determine the gender of unborn children.
"Duly noted." I want it to be a girl, too, but as long as it's healthy — I'm a happy camper.
Having gotten her request in, Kelly scampers off to bug someone else.
***
"Excuse me!"
Sam has the DJ's mike again.
From the glare Donna is leveling at me, I assume she thinks I had something to do with this.
Like I have any more control over Sam than I do over the gender of our child.
Sam's gesturing for both of us to join him in the middle of the dance floor.
"It's time for that age-old tradition. Yes, I'm talking about the dollar-dance. Now, a couple of things to consider: first, we all know Josh and Donna both work for the government and secondly, the Lyman family will be growing shortly. So, please, give freely." Sam pauses for the obligatory laughter. "Women to the left — you pay me. Men to the right — you pay CJ."
I hear Leo muttering something about a fundraising idea as he steps up to head Donna's line.
Great-Aunt Gertrude battles her way to stand in front of Sam, waiting for the music to start.
***
"Congratulations." Leo is trying to not look totally saccharine as he offers me his hand.
"Thank you. For everything."
I'm trying really hard not to cry, but it's pretty difficult. Leo could have squashed what Josh and I have from the beginning.
"He's a son to me, Donna. I could never begrudge him happiness, not with all the things he's gone through. He spent his whole life looking for you. You two, you have what Elisa and Noah had and it's what Josh has always wanted. You know him better than he knows himself, but don't let him take your understanding for granted."
I'm speechless as Leo gives me a tight hug before surrendering me to Matt Skinner.
***
I survived a lecture on pre-martial sex from Great-Aunt Gertrude, the smell of Grandma Marjorie, my mother's comments about my dancing, Deb interrogating me about Fred's intended major and a seemingly endless stream of old ladies who dance worse than I do.
If I weren't making money off of this, I'd have strangled Sam by now.
Bowing Cheryl, Donna's third cousin, off the floor, I turn to face my next partner.
"You can't be serious." If looks could kill, Sam would be a pile of ash on the floor.
"Hey, he put a hundred bucks in the pot." My best man holds up the bill as if the price makes it okay.
"Check the picture. It's probably his." I grumble.
"I'll even let you lead," President Bartlet smirks at me.
"You'd really rather be dancing with Donna, sir," I inform him as we begin the world's most awkward waltz.
"It could be worse, Josh. It could be a tango. And I already danced with your wife."
"I'd prefer dancing with yours."
***
I can't help giggling at Josh's predicament. In fact, all dancing on my side of the floor screeches to a halt while we watch as my husband is forced to dance with a procession of guys who think they're funny.
The President, Matt Skinner, Ed, Larry, Dad, Fred and the Lord John Marbury.
Marbury is a riot; he keeps stepping on Josh's feet.
Sam is bent double, laughing so hard he's crying. It takes him a full minute to compose himself for the throwing of the bouquet.
"Donna, if my daughter catches that, I'm sending you to Iceland," the President calls, obviously having gotten into the mood of the evening.
I'm not sure if he's kidding or not.
I aim for Margaret just to be safe.
It lands in Elisa's hands.
Josh looks mortified.
Sam brings out a chair next and instructs me to sit. Josh kneels at my feet.
"No hands," Sam admonishes with a smirk.
At Josh's questioning glance, Sam clarifies. "You can hold her dress up, but not to take the garter off."
His lips are warm on my leg as he kisses his way up to the garter.
"Hand check!" CJ yells when Josh doesn't emerge in a timely fashion.
***
Bite me, CJ. You try taking a garter off without your hands in front of your boss and your wife's parents. Besides, I think this thing is a hundred years old and it smells faintly of Vick's Vapor-Rub.
"Sam?" I grab him before I launch the garter into the assembled crowd of bachelors.
"Yeah?"
"Donna and I can leave after this, right?" According to my watch it's almost 11 p.m.
Which means it's closer to midnight. No wedding reception should last five hours.
"Sure, buddy. The limo is outside," he gestures over his shoulder with his thumb.
I give him a brief hug and let him join the crowd.
Closing my eyes, I cock the garter back like a rubber band and fling it.
Oh, no.
***
He hit Leo right smack in the face.
And I thought he looked horrified when Elisa caught my bouquet.
It doesn't surprise me when he then grabs my hand and whisks me towards the door.
"Sam said we're clear to go," he explains. We stop to collect my shoes and Josh's jacket and wave before beating a path to the waiting limo.
The fun and frivolity CJ and Sam put into the reception did not, thankfully, extend to decorating a Presidential limo with Just Married' signs or filling the interior with condoms, balloons, toilet paper, shaving cream, KY jelly or anything juvenile like that.
Josh and the driver exchange nods before we climb into the back.
"Where are we staying tonight?" I ask, curling up on the seat next to my husband.
"It's a surprise," he murmurs, absently fiddling with a stray lock of my hair.
Now he's piqued my curiosity. I have to bite my tongue when I feel the limo turn onto a gravel road.
The route we're taking feels vaguely familiar, even though I can't see where we are in the darkness.
"Josh?" I give my voice a whining note.
He waits to answer me until the limo stops.
Lifting his head from the back of the seat, he opens his eyes and takes my hand. "What would you say if I told you we were going to honeymoon at home?"
"I'd say your planning skills suck."
He taps on the window twice and the door opens. Getting out, I look around in confusion at Grandpa Moss's farm.
"What are we doing here? Josh, the family sold this place. The buyer signed the papers on Thursday."
He takes my hand and leads me up to the front door. Pulling a set of keys from his trousers, he unlocks the door and unceremoniously sweeps me off my feet.
"You're going to throw your back out." I tease him, despite my continued lack of understanding.
***
"You're not heavy." I admonish, carrying her into the kitchen before setting her down.
"Explain," Donna demands, the instant she's back on her feet.
Words seem inadequate, so I hand her the gift I left on the counter when we were here Friday morning.
"Dilbert?" she scoffs a bit, mocking my choice of packaging.
I shrug. I didn't have time to rewrap it, so I left it in the comics Toby had it in.
"What is this?" She turns the wooden plaque over in her hands, softly running her fingers over the carved Hebrew words.
"It's a ketubah, a marriage covenant. It's my pledge to provide for you and our children." I wrap my hands around hers. "My pledge to provide a home, food, the necessities of life and to love you, to honor you, to cherish what we have built together."
***
As Josh whispers his litany, what he's saying begins to sink in. His pledge to provide a home, his mysterious question about honeymooning at home — they click together in my brain.
I lift my eyes from the oak plaque in our hands. Everything around me is blurry through my tears; even my voice wavers. "You bought the farm."
Josh simply nods, wiping a stray tear from my face with his thumb. "Technically, one of the trusts did. I bought it from the trust at a really good interest rate."
"I thought, I thought" I stumble over my words and my sobs.
"Shh. Donna, don't cry, baby," Josh croons, setting the plaque back on the counter before wrapping his arms around me.
"What happened to Congress?" I finally choke out. Between my tears and Timmy's dried drool, Josh's jacket is a mess.
"It's still there, Toby hasn't figured out a way to abolish it yet," he jokes before turning serious. "I'm still going to run. We've got a couple of years to sort everything out. Maybe the farm is just a vacation home, someplace to stay when we visit your parents at Christmas or maybe I run for Wisconsin's 2nd District."
***
Donna stops crying long enough to snort at me.
"Carpetbagger," she snickers.
"What? I met a beautiful Cheesehead in Washington who convinced me to give up my Connecticut Yankee heritage and relocate to America's Dairy Land," I offer some lame campaign rhetoric.
"Because you know so much about cows and dairy farming, Josh."
"You'll teach me."
Brushing a loose hair from her face, I lean in to kiss her.
***
It's like the first time he ever kissed me, that night in the ice cream parlor: soft and searching. Some sort of magical innocence pervades the moonlight bathing the kitchen. Looking out the window, I can see it start to snow: large, heavy flakes drifting through the still air to the ground.
Josh finally breaks the kiss and takes my hands without a word, leading me up the stairs to the master bedroom.
My eyes widen in disbelief at the scene before me. It's a Pottery Barn showroom. A king-sized, pewter-colored metal bed flanked by dark-wood shelving units for nightstands. All of the furniture is in the same wood as the nightstands and it matches the mahogany hardwood floors.
The bed is covered in a beige gingham comforter with an overabundance of coordinating pillows.
"You just picked a room off the web page, didn't you?" It's too perfect.
He looks down at his feet. "Not entirely."
***
Donna's sniffling again, but she nods at my questioning glance. I release the breath I've been unconsciously holding at her approval.
Moving behind her, I begin to undo the plethora of buttons. Each one exposes a tiny bit of alabaster skin demanding to be kissed. Finally reaching the last button, I run my hands under the dress and over her stomach.
Resting my hands there, I pause to just hold her, contemplating the quiet of our new home.
***
I lean back against Josh's chest and set my hands on top of his, the silk of my dress the only thing between us. Closing my eyes, I take the time to simply enjoy the silence of our surroundings and the comfort of Josh's arms.
"What was that?"
"That was the bear," I tell him, marveling at the increased activity in my body.
His response is to lead me to the bed. I sit on the edge and Josh kneels in front of me, returning his hands to my stomach.
"Hey, kiddo. You're up, huh?" Josh leans in close, whispering to the bear. He likes to talk to the kid, most mornings I wake up to him resting his head on my thighs reading position papers or the Washington Post.
Josh is very, very weird sometimes.
"Mommy and Daddy are going to You know, maybe this is a conversation we'll save til later. When you're like fifty or something. Suffice to say you just close your little ears for a while and go back to sleep. Mommy and Daddy are going to practice making you a sibling."
My husband is a sap.
Raising the hem of my wedding dress, Josh repeats the kissing routine from the garter removal. This time, however, he doesn't stop at the top of my stockings. He lingers at the exposed skin of my inner thighs, nuzzling his lips into the more sensitive places.
"Josh," I moan, running my hands over my breasts. I need him where he is, but I want his touch everywhere.
***
Sweaty and spent, we remain as we are, trying to catch our breath.
"There goes the annulment," Josh finally jokes.
I don't have the energy to remind him he's Jewish and I'm Lutheran and I'm pretty sure an annulment wouldn't be possible anyway.
***
I reach down and pull the covers up around us. Despite having the heat cranked, there's still a chill in the air. Donna props herself up on a mound of pillows, inviting me to curl around her. Resting my head on her shoulder, I tuck one arm under her neck and use my other hand to rub her extended tummy.
This is something I doubt I will ever tire of.
I'm not even sure why it fascinates me so much, the thought of a tiny person growing inside of my wife.
When Donna's breathing evens out, I feel the little bear begin to kick again.
Our kid strikes a pretty decent beat for a fetus.
"What's it feel like?"
I don't even know where that question came from, but suddenly I really want to know.
"Like somebody kicking you," Donna laughs, giving me a non-answer.
"Okay, cause I've got that scene from Alien' stuck in my head. You know - where the alien rips open the guy's stomach? Actually, it's the parody from Spaceballs.' Where it jumps out and starts singing show tunes"
"Josh." Donna's groan has nothing to do with pleasure this time.
***
The bear is up for almost an hour, entertaining Josh and keeping me from sleeping. It finally stops kicking when Josh sticks his head under the covers and starts talking to it about the upcoming baseball season and how the Mets are going to make the playoffs this year. I think I heard something about a trip to the World Series, but I may have been hallucinating.