THANKS FOR STICKING WITH IT. THIS CHAPTER IS A BREAK FROM THE WARNING TRIGGERS FROM THE LAST CHAPTER. I REALLY APPRECIATE THE REVIEWS FROM EVERYONE. THE LAST CHAPTER WAS ONE OF MY FAVORITE I'VE EVER WRITTEN - THANKS FOR ALL THE GREAT FEEDBACK.
ENJOY. OH - AND THE STORY IS NOT OVER.
"Ok, we'll see you soon." Elizabeth said, "I love you."
"Love you too, babe."
She hung up the phone call with Henry, sliding her phone into her pocket before looking across the living room into the kitchen where her daughter's girlfriend was making some coffee. "They said they're about five minutes away." Elizabeth said, getting up and walking towards the kitchen. "Can I help?"
"Oh good." Charlotte said, tucking her hair behind her ear before grabbing the cups from the cupboard above her. "I think I've got it. Coffee's not too labor intensive."
Elizabeth leaned against the counter facing Charlotte, whose back was to her. The girl had become very much a part of Emma's life, and, subsequently, part of the McCord's life. Elizabeth looked around the small DC apartment's kitchen – open shelving and minimal items – coffee that the young people drank with all the elaborate equipment to go with it – small sink, minimal cabinet and counter space.
"You two have really made this a cozy space." Elizabeth commented, "Seems like just yesterday you two moved in together."
Without turning around, Charlotte said, "I can't believe it's been almost a year already."
A year went by so fast. A year, indeed. She had just won her reelection campaign, and had wanted to come help them move into the place, but something had come up – she wanted to think it was something with Russia, but she couldn't be sure. Crises developed and she tried to stop them, and, eventually, they all muddled together. But it must have been something like that.
She remembered the lead up to the move out. Of course, Emma hadn't been home much – between classes at Georgetown, language studies abroad, and visiting Charlotte in the UK, Emma wasn't exactly the homebody at the White House. But the boxes of Emma's things piled at the doorway of the Residence, slowly accumulating the weeks before the move – Elizabeth had been aware of it.
She was more aware of the absence – while she'd known that Emma wouldn't live at home her whole life, Elizabeth just hadn't really imagined that void without her daughter right there with her. Stevie, Dmitri, and the twins had moved to the country, Allison had moved to NYC to work with a large fashion designer, and Jason was away at med school in Seattle. So, while Emma hadn't been always there, her bedroom, the one that had been hers since she'd been rescued, had always been full of her things. The emptiness of that room had brought Elizabeth to tears the first few weeks after Emma moved in with Charlotte.
Trying to avoid more sadness than the day required, Elizabeth asked, "How is your work going?"
Charlotte turned to Elizabeth, a smile on her face. "I love it. Teaching high-school kids is so rewarding." Charlotte reached into the fridge to grab some creamer.
"Do you like teaching here in the States?"
Charlotte nodded, then turned back to assembling the tray of refreshments, "I do. I mean, I miss my family and friends back in the UK, but…" Elizabeth listened to Charlotte's voice settle into a softness, "… but being here with Emma makes up for that loss."
"Well…" Elizabeth said, "Selfishly, I'm glad you two decided to stay here in the States." And she meant that. While not having Emma living with them had been a rough transition, she was glad they were at least in driving distance. For a short visit now and then, a quiet dinner at the White House when Elizabeth could make it, or a small lunch date every few weeks – those things wouldn't have been possible if Emma had moved across the ocean. Elizabeth cleared her throat, and said, "And I know Emma enjoys her job at the State department."
She watched Charlotte's shoulders tense for a second. Perhaps it was her own training reading people, but it was obvious to Elizabeth.
The dishes in Charlotte's hand rattled a bit, and Charlotte's voice tensed almost imperceptibly, "She really does enjoy her work."
She thought she could identify with a partner feeling the way that Charlotte did. She knew that tensing – she'd seen it hundreds of times from her husband.
"Public service can take a toll on relationships." Elizabeth said, trying to extend compassion. "Trust me, Henry and I have experienced that throughout the years."
The girl across the kitchen chuckled, "Really? Even in your low stress jobs?" Turning towards the living room with the tray in her hand, Charlotte said, "I'm just happy that she's happy."
"An intense work ethic is one of those hereditary attributes of being a McCord." Elizabeth smiled and followed the girl into the living room, taking a seat on the worn couch that fit the aesthetic of a first apartment. Charlotte set the tray down on the coffee table.
Then Elizabeth watched Charlotte look at her, eyes full of emotion. And the sweet words from her daughter's girlfriend touched Elizabeth, "I just wish I could make her feel better with all this stuff."
The "stuff" was more than enough to worry everyone who loved Emma. At least, Elizabeth felt that way. Henry had said Emma had been hit hard with the death of her friend, but that she seemed to be doing as well as she could be, given the circumstance. But Elizabeth knew. It wasn't just the death of a friend. It was something much more.
"I know." Elizabeth said quietly, sitting back in her chair and staring down at her hands. "Henry said the funeral went as well as could be expected." Elizabeth had talked to Emma over the phone for a few minutes, but, as was typical for her daughter, it had been a lot of silence from the other end of the phone. "I wish I could've gone to be with her."
Charlotte, taking a seat in the armchair in the corner of the room, said, "Weren't you dealing with passing a bill?"
Elizabeth nodded. "But still…" She'd tried as hard as possible to get away. Sometimes, she hated her job.
"Emma's strong." Charlotte said. "As much as I had to do here, I could've gotten out of it."
Elizabeth pulled herself out of the guilt that came with her job and focused more on what Charlotte was saying.
"But Emma, sometimes she needs to do things alone."
Her body tensed while Elizabeth tried to keep a straight face. But it brought things to a head that she'd been pushing down for almost two years. If one of Elizabeth's friends or family – which Lea had been both to Emma – had died, Henry would have dropped everything to be there with her. He would've stayed with her as long as needed – keeping her from work and making her know she was loved and had support. And, while Elizabeth hadn't been able to make it, it wasn't like she was just a school teacher – Elizabeth's absence could've changed the course of America forever. Maybe a bit more compelling of a reason to miss a funeral than teaching literature to high school students.
And Elizabeth couldn't keep her mouth shut. "Sometimes you have to push through Emma's barriers to show her you care." She tried to keep her voice level, but she could still feel the bite in her words as they flew out of her mouth. Her body tightened and she crossed her legs to hide the clenching of her fist in her lap.
Elizabeth saw Charlotte's jaw lock.
It was quiet for a second.
Charlotte looked away out the window. And she simply said, "Sometimes pushing Emma just makes her close up."
The room felt heavy. Elizabeth took a deep breath and said, "I think I know what my daughter needs, Charlotte."
"With all due respect, Madam President…" Charlotte's eyes met Elizabeth's, narrowed. Her words were pointed, "I know Emma in a way that you will never know."
Charlotte paused.
Elizabeth shifted in her chair, her shoulders squaring with her daughter's girlfriend. "Excuse me?"
Charlotte swallowed, then said, "I can't imagine that you'd take it well if your husband's parents had told you they knew what Henry needed more than you did."
Elizabeth inhaled sharply. The audacity coming from the girl sitting across from her was astounding. And maddening. And she opened her mouth to respond, but just at that moment, the door to the apartment opened.
And Henry walked through the door, carrying in Emma's small duffel bag. He looked exhausted, in a way that others might not see, but Elizabeth could read it. And she stood up, walking to him and pulling him in for a hug.
"Babe." He said, sinking into her hug, both needing comfort and giving it. Then he pulled away and kissed her quickly on the lips. "I've missed you." He said quietly.
As Elizabeth hugged Henry, Emma walked into the room.
Emotional exhaustion hung from every thread of her daughter. Dark circles under her eyes, her face was pale and drawn. Her shoulders sagged from the weight of the world on them at that moment. Emotionless and full at the same time.
But Elizabeth watched as Emma searched the room and found what she was looking for. Before Elizabeth could move, she stood by Henry as Emma walked over and fell across the armchair where Charlotte sat, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend and burying her head in her neck. Elizabeth heard her daughter barely choke out a pitiful, "I can't believe she's gone." And quiet, soft whimpers turned to sobs as Charlotte wrapped her arms around Emma's body, holding tight. Emma curled up as much as possible, like she knew right where she fit.
As Emma's body began to shake, Charlotte quietly whispered, "I'm here. Let it out."
Tears welled up in Elizabeth's eyes watching the scene. Seeing her daughter in such emotional pain was enough to tear her heart right from her body. Any thought about Emma ignoring Elizabeth's presence in the room flew from her mind as Elizabeth watched Charlotte hold her daughter. Holding her. Just as she needed. How Emma melted into Charlotte's embrace.
And Elizabeth allowed Henry to pull her to his chest, and they held each other, the cries of their daughter filling their souls. Henry whispered, "You know what this…"
Elizabeth didn't need him to finish his thought. "When George…"
She remembered that day. When she finally felt like talking about the death of her friend. How he'd been the safe place when she was ready – curling up and needing him more than life itself. She had held it in as long as possible until that day. And as the fears and questions mingled with grief, all she'd needed was to be wrapped in her husband's arms, to let herself experience the emotions she'd been running from. In a safe place.
Elizabeth didn't know how long she stood in Henry's arms. But after a while, Emma's sobs turned into a soft whimper.
And Charlotte's sweet voice asked, "You should probably drink some water." Elizabeth looked over to find Emma looking quizzically at Charlotte. And she clarified, "I think most of your hydration is all over my shirt."
A small smile then a laugh came to Emma's lips, and she wiped her nose with the handkerchief that Charlotte gave her. "Got any vodka?"
"Nope." Charlotte said.
Then Elizabeth watched as Emma kissed Charlotte quickly, and then stood up and walked towards Elizabeth.
"Mom." She said quietly, and Elizabeth felt what she'd wanted since she'd heard the news about Lea. Emma laid her head on her chest, and Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her daughter.
Elizabeth kissed the top of her head, and then whispered, "Em, I'm so sorry."
Emma pulled back and looked up at Elizabeth. "Me too." She whispered.
"Coffee?" Charlotte's voice pulled their attention to where she stood by the coffee table.
"Anything that didn't come from a gas station sounds good." Henry said, walking over and giving Charlotte a hug. "It's good to see you."
"You too." Charlotte said, a genuine smile on her face.
After they got their refreshments, Henry and Elizabeth sat down on the couch, and Charlotte sat back in the chair and Emma, as usual, was perched on the arm of the chair. Never one to actually sit down.
"How was the drive?" Charlotte asked.
Emma, mouth full of shortbread, said, "Long."
Henry agreed. "I can't believe you used to drive the six hours every other weekend."
"I know." Emma said, swallowing. "But it eventually didn't seem like long."
Elizabeth had never wanted Emma to go back and forth so much. But Emma had insisted. She would try and schedule her classes to be done Friday morning, and she'd drive there in the evening, and drive back Sunday night. Had for about a year. Sometimes, especially around the busy times in the semester, Henry and Elizabeth would pay for Emma to fly. And, at that moment, Elizabeth was glad that she'd never set her foot down and told Emma not to go. Those memories were important now.
"And…" Emma said loudly, "Dad wouldn't let me drive."
Henry reached for Elizabeth's hand as they settled into conversation. "I'll blame the Secret Service."
Emma rolled her eyes, smile tickling the corners of her mouth. "Fine. You do that."
Charlotte then asked, "Did you leave right after the funeral?"
Henry nodded.
And Emma gestured to her clothing, "I mean, I know you can't tell cause I wear black all the time – but this is a dress – and you know I don't wear those much."
"Oh, hell I do." Charlotte said, tickling Emma's side, causing Emma to jump just a bit with laughter. "They said living with a girl would mean we could share clothes." And Charlotte fake-frowned at Emma, "But, I'm sorry, how many black suits and leather jackets do you need?"
Elizabeth laid her head on Henry's shoulder while she listened to the girl's banter. The argument with Charlotte still unsettled Elizabeth – how bold and self-righteous the girl had been – but, as she watched Emma and Charlotte talking over each other, laughing a bit, and just picking at each other, she knew that Emma was happy. At that moment, Elizabeth just pushed the whole argument from her mind. She'd see what Henry thought later on that evening.
"… you're kidding, right?"
Charlotte's voice pulled Elizabeth from her mind, and she listened into the conversation.
"What?" Emma said, joking, holding a misshapen ceramic in her hand, "You don't like my masterpiece from that pottery class you made me take?"
Charlotte pulled the piece from Emma's hand, holding it up for Henry and Elizabeth to see. "What do you two think this is?"
Elizabeth looked it over, "Well… It's not a vase. There's no place to put flowers in." A dirty mud colored piece…
"And it's not like a bust of anyone, right?" Henry asked.
Elizabeth saw the look that the girls exchanged, and then they both laughed.
And Charlotte said, "Would you two believe that this Emma's take on a coffee cup?"
"Hey!" Emma said, ripping the 'cup' out of her girlfriend's hands, "It's an artistic rendering of it. Like… the IDEA…"
Everyone laughed.
Then a phone started to ring. Elizabeth reached for her pocket, but didn't recognize the sound.
Emma pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She quickly looked at the caller, and then stood up, carefully handing the lump of clay to Charlotte and said, "Don't break the masterpiece." To which, Charlotte laughed.
And Emma excused herself to go into the kitchen, where she turned her back to the others and quietly answered her phone.
"For once, it wasn't your phone that interrupted the conversation." Henry said, and Elizabeth lightly punched his shoulder. And he pretended she'd hurt him. "Ow… I mean…"
She agreed, "I know. It's a weird thing."
Emma walked into the living room again.
And Charlotte didn't need Emma to say anything. Charlotte just read her mind, "You have to go?"
Emma nodded.
And Elizabeth's mind started turning. "What?"
Emma just shrugged, "Apparently we have a big memo that needs to go out that they need me there to help with."
"Do they know what's going on?" Elizabeth asked, sitting up on the edge of her seat. "I'm sure they can find someone else to write the memo?" It didn't make sense. Emma worked as a program analyst for the State Department's Office of Directives Management.
"Thanks, Mom." Emma said sarcastically. She leaned down to kiss Charlotte, then stood up as she pulled her coat on, "I'm glad you think I'm so dispensable that someone…"
Elizabeth stood up, her mind refusing to stop. "It's not that, and you know that." It wasn't a department that really had emergencies. They wrote memos and policies for the day to day life at the State Department. In fact, throughout Elizabeth's entire career, there had never been an emergency that involved the Directives Management.
Maturity kicking in, Emma just walked over and said, "I'm fine, Mom. You of all people should understand."
It wasn't that she didn't understand. And Emma knew that. And while Emma gave her a hug, Elizabeth said, "I'm sure that Dennis would be understanding. I can give him a…"
"No." Emma said strongly, pulling away. "You will NOT call my boss." Emma looked into her eyes with a quick changed face. Gone was the funny, jovial girl. Here was the no-nonsense face. "It's taken me so long to get people to forget that I'm the President's daughter. That I'm just there to do work. So. Do. Not. Call."
Elizabeth felt like she'd been taken to task by her daughter. When, in reality, Emma was right. A call to the office from the President would be both unprecedented and, more importantly, very invasive.
So Elizabeth tried one last tactic, "Do you think you're up to going into work?"
Emma rolled her eyes, brushed past Elizabeth towards the door. "Please just stop talking." Emma leaned down and picked up the duffel bag that Henry had brought in. And just before Emma walked out the door, she turned around and looked straight at Elizabeth. "I gotta go."
"Emma." Elizabeth called, "Can we talk about this?"
Ignoring Elizabeth's question, Emma called out, "Char, I'll be home late. Love you."
And the door shut.
Leaving Elizabeth standing there, speechless.
