Elizabeth Bartlet was bored. There were plenty of things for her to do, plenty of things she SHOULD do, yes, but that didn't meant she wanted to do them. Ellie was still at church, and Zoey was glued to the television screen-Sesame Street'll do that to kids. So, Liz wandered upstairs. It wasn't very exciting. Nothing upstairs she hadn't seen before. Her gaze fell upon the door to the attic.
"Ooh," Liz said with a squeal of excitement.
She gravitated toward the door, slowly opened it, and ascended the stairs up to the attic. She wandered around the poorly lighted, dusty space and looked for something to keep her occupied. Attics were always occupying kids in movies. Why not her too? That was when she noticed her parents' trunk in the corner. She remembered them debating on whether or not to bring the trunk to DC from Manchester, but she never knew what was inside it. Until now, she never wondered.
Liz cautiously walked over and sat beside the trunk, staring at it. It was as if she expected the cover to fly open on its own, as if it was magical or something.
"You never know," Liz whispered to herself. "Mom and Dad could be hiding bodies up here for all I know."
She unlatched the top and opened the trunk. It was filled with old, yellowing letters and photographs-none of which she'd ever seen before.
"Wow."
She picked up a random photograph. It was a picture of her parents, circa 1967. Not only her parents, but also Leo and Jenny. The two couples stood side by side, grinning, at the beach. It was weird to see them all together so long ago. They were so young, so different. As she put the picture down, she wondered if they had gotten what they wanted out of life. She highly doubted any of them expected to be where they were now.
Liz picked up another picture, labeled 'Sightseeing- 1968,' this time of her parents alone. They were in London, where they'd lived the first few years of their marriage, and where Liz was born three years later. She lightly ran her fingers over the photograph and marveled at how happy they seemed- she'd never seen anyone look so happy before in her life. It was as if there was no place in the world they'd rather be. They were remarkable.
When Ellie arrived at the church, she was stunned by the silence. She'd never seen it so quiet. It was always bustling with people, talking and laughing-enthuastic about their faith. And if the people were quiet, Father Moriarty was speaking- loud, insightful, persuasive, and seemingly all-knowing. She walked gingerly down the aisle and found Father Moriarty sitting quietly, head bowed, in the front pew.
"Father?"
Father Moriarty looked up and a smile crept over his face.
"Eleanor."
"Hi, Father."
His smile was soon replaced with an expression of worry.
"What's wrong? Is everything all right?"
"Oh! No, everything's fine."
"It's Monday morning. Shouldn't you be in school?" Father asked
.
"It's summer, Father."
"Ah, yes. So it is. Well. We missed you yesterday."
"Oh- um, yes, we had kind of an…off weekend."
"It's rare that your father misses a Sunday," Father pointed out.
"I know. We'll be here next Sunday, I promise."
"Good, good. Now. What can I do for you?"
Ellie sat beside him, looking at her feet.
"Eleanor?"
She remained quiet.
"Well, perhaps we should ease into whatever it is you have to tell me with small talk. How's that?"
Ellie nodded.
"All right then. How is your sister doing?"
"I'm guessing you mean Elizabeth, so she's doing really good, actually."
"She's a good kid, Ellie. Despite her obvious shortcomings, a good kid nonetheless. I've been praying for her."
"I'm sure she…appreciates that, Father."
"And your parents? How are they?"
"Good. Like always," Ellie replied.
"How's that?"
"Nothing."
"You must be excited to have a new brother or sister soon, hmm?" Father asked.
"Yeah. Um, actually that's why I'm here."
"Why?"
"Father, what does God say about superstition?" Ellie asked.
"The Word of God reigns supreme above all superstition, Eleanor."
"Yeah. What about patterns?"
"Patterns?" Father repeated.
"You know. Noticing things happening again and again, and have things in common."
"Yes, the term pattern is something I'm familiar with. I'm just not certain in what context."
"The usual context."
"Eleanor, you're making this very difficult for me to follow."
"I'm sorry," she said, quietly.
"Why don't you just tell me what you came here to tell me."
"Well, it's more than that. I want your opinion."
"My opinion?"
"Yes."
"What on?" He asked.
"Now, see. Do you remember, a few years ago, when my mother had a miscarriage?"
"Now how could I forget that, Ellie? I saw your father more during that period of time than any other."
Ellie nodded.
"My mother also had another miscarriage. Before Zoey."
Father Moriarty thought for a moment.
"Yes, I believe your father mentioned it to me."
"Both miscarriages were named."
"I'm sorry?"
"Mom and Dad gave both of them names before they were born."
"Ah, yes. Okay."
"But me and my sisters…"
"My sisters and I…"
"My sisters and I weren't given names."
"You've lost me, I'm afraid," Father admitted.
"Before we were born. Mom and Dad didn't have names planned for us before we were born."
"Okay…"
"Do you see the pattern?"
"I fear I do not."
Ellie sighed.
"The children my mother miscarried had pre-planned names. And me and….my sisters and I didn't."
"Keep going."
"We're alive! They aren't!"
"Ah."
"What do you think?"
"About what?"
"Do you think it means anything?"
"What?"
"Mom and Dad already named this baby. Chelsea. They named her. Just like the others," Ellie explained.
"I see."
"Well?"
"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Ellie," Father replied.
"Why not?"
"God doesn't work like that. You're reading far too much into this."
"How do you know?"
"Ellie, there's a reason you came to me, and I hope that reason is trust. If you trust me, you'll believe what I'm telling you."
"But I'm scared."
"I can plainly see that. Your concern will not go unnoticed," he said.
"But who will notice it?"
"God."
"Is it going to change anything?"
"God has a plan, Ellie."
"Yeah, I know God has a plan, God always has a plan. But it's not always a good plan."
"He knows what's best."
"How is a dead child ever what's best!"
"Eleanor."
"I'm sorry. I can't help it. Whatever happened to 'Thou Shalt Not Murder.' God does it too! Every day, hundreds, thousands of people die! Natural causes. What is natural causes but God's hand snatching the life out of them? Like an ordinary murderer."
"Eleanor! There is no need for you to talk like this in God's house!"
"This is the only place he'll hear me."
"God hears you, Ellie."
"Then he doesn't speak English because he's getting it all wrong," Ellie said.
"You're blaming God for something that hasn't even happened, Ellie."
Ellie paused. This was true.
"Well. I'm gonna take your word for it. For now."
"I think that's a very good idea," Father said.
"I hope it is."
"Have you heard of summer projects, Ellie?"
"Yes," Ellie answered, pouting slightly.
"Well, I suggest you engage in one."
"And do what?"
"Find your faith. Rediscover, more like."
"I have a better idea," Ellie said.
"Oh? And what might that be?"
Ellie stood up quickly.
"I'm sorry, Father, I have to go."
"Where are you going?"
"The library."
An hour after discovering the trunk in the attic, Elizabeth had sorted the letters and photographs and organized them into neat little piles. They were classified by year, ranging from 1967 to 1975. She had looked at all the pictures already, but hadn't yet garnered up enough courage to read the letters. She was eager to, yet she was a little apprehensive of what she would find. From the looks of the photographs, Liz could only assume the letters were just as interesting. When she finally felt courageous enough, she picked up the first letter from 1967 and read it.
March 30th, 1967
Dear Abbey,
Spring break was far too fleeting, yet so much has happened. I met you and had my life's direction altered, all in a mere two weeks. It's surreal. And now you're so far away. Two more months of this writing, until I can see you again. It'll be the longest two months of my life, I'm sure.
Also, I'm speaking to the dean tomorrow, about changing my major. Then I'll have to speak to some of the priests and apologize, I guess. I don't know the right way to go about this. I don't want to hurt anyone. And what if they ask me why? What am I supposed to say? I met a girl? I doubt that'll be good enough for them. But it's good enough for me, and it's good enough for you, so nothing else matters. Then there's the issue of my parents. I haven't dared tell them yet. I think they were a little suspicious when I brought you to dinner last week, but they probably assume it's just a phase I'm going through, an infatuation. I hope you don't think that too. I know it's only been two weeks, but I can assure you, mere infatuation is not what this is. I hope you know that.
Write back soon- I'm going crazy without you.
-Jed
Elizabeth smiled. She knew that her father was studying to become a priest, then changed his mind. But she had no idea it was because of her mother. She had naturally assumed that her mother came later. Liz was so wrapped up in this thought that she nearly forgot about Ellie, who certainly should have been home by then.
TBC.