Chapter 10: Saturday 23rd December
Harvey wakes early, and gets organised. He books a car from his club, packs a suitcase, makes a few calls, and pops into a giant toystore.
It's early afternoon, and he's as ready as he will ever be. He picks up the car and starts the long drive to Cortland. Snow is forecast, the roads are icy and unsurprisingly the traffic is snarled up.
He stops when he's about half an hour away from his destination to call Donna and tell her he's on his way. He had wanted to be close enough that she won't tell him not to come. But he knows she won't be impressed if he turns up without warning, and though he has an address for her parents, he isn't totally certain it's up to date.
At first she doesn't pick up, and he's just about to give up and message her, when she answers.
"Hey. It's me. Listen, Donna…".
"Harvey," she interrupts. "Can whatever this is wait? I just got into a fight with my parents, and I've gone out without my purse and now it's started to snow." She gives a muffled sob.
"Shit, Don, I'm so sorry. OK. l'm coming to get you. Is there somewhere warm you can go? Or back to your parents?"
"It'll take you hours to get here. I don't want to go back, but I don't have any money, so…"
"I'm around a half hour away. Find a diner or someplace where you can pay at the end. Message me an address. It's gonna be ok Donna, I promise."
Harvey hangs up, gets back in the car and starts driving, as fast as he safely can, given the worsening conditions on the roads as the snow falls heavier. It tears him apart go hear Donna so sad, and he feels the weight of responsibility. He knew she was nervous about telling her parents. He knew how Jim would likely take it. He should have offered to go with her. He'd thought he was doing well with this whole situation, but actually Donna was right last night: he's every bit as useless at it all as he had first feared.
After ten minutes, Harvey hears his phone chirp, and stops to program in the address that Donna has given him into his cellphone.
Not long after, he's parked up a block away, and is literally running through the snow in what he hopes is the right direction until he spots the sign for Pat's Cafe, a cute old-timey little diner, it's lights gleaming invitingly in the twilight.
It's warm and cosy inside, and packed with groups of Christmas shoppers, bags stuffed around their feet, a happy buzz in the air. It takes him a while to spot Donna, alone in a little two-person booth hunched over a coffee.
He dashes over to her, slides into the seat opposite, takes her hands in his and kisses them.
"Donna, sweetheart, what happened?"
She looks up at him, her eyes puffy, and he can see she has been crying.
"You told your parents?
She nods.
"Tell me what happened?" he probes gently, stroking his thumb along the back of her hand reassuringly.
She tells him the whole story, her voice wobbling at times.
Donna gets off the train and spots her dad on the platform. She has felt so alone lately. It feels good to get a hug, to be with someone who loves her unconditionally. She is feeling knocked around by life, and the prospect of being looked after by her mom and dad for a few days is very appealing. No demands on her, just regression to her childhood: her parents bringing her her favorite food; time on the sofa watching familiar feel-good movies, wearing comfortable clothes; eating her own bodyweight in chocolate. Exactly what she needs.
She just hopes they take the news about her pregnancy well, and her dad doesn't get too hung up on the baby being Harvey's.
On the drive home they chat about her journey, what she's got her mom for Christmas, and her older sister Sarah's plans for the holidays, in California with her latest man. She isn't worried that her dad will work out her secret: her bump is small enough not to be obvious at first glance. She's not sure how long she'll have before her mom rumbles her though. Not much gets past the Paulsen women. She's going to have to tell them soon after she arrives.
They park up and the house is bedecked with the familiar holiday decorations from Donna's childhood, giving her a warm, homey feeling. She wonders if this time next year she'll be showing these same decorations to the baby. And whether Harvey will be with them. She's not counting on anything after their heated words the previous night, but she still has some degree of faith he'll come through eventually.
She grabs her handbag and slings it across her middle, so at least there is no chance her mom can notice anything before she gets in through the front door. She can see her at the window, waving enthusiastically.
As soon as she's inside, she sets down her bag, and her mom envelops her in a huge hug.
"Donna. It's so good to see you. Let me have a look at you."
Her mom releases her front the hug, and steps back, taking in her daughter from top to bottom. Her eyes linger around her middle.
"Darling! Do you have something to tell us?"
"I guess so. I'm having a baby. Surprise!" She smiles sheepishly, trying to feel every inch the self-assured adult woman that she is rather than some kid who has got herself into trouble.
Her parents' faces are blank with astonishment. Her mom recovers first.
"Honey, that's just wonderful. What a surprise. We'd all but given up on grandchildren, given that you're going to be…"
"I'm going to stop you right there, mom," Donna smiles, trying to keep the mood light."
"Oh, you know me sweetie. Always putting my foot in it. Is there a father on the scene?"
Donna steels herself for what's coming next. "Yes mom, there is. He's going to be involved."
"So you're not together?" Her mom's brows are knitted with concern.
"No mom, we're doing this as friends."
Her dad's still not said a word. He's standing, stiffly, looking white and strained. Finally, when he speaks, his voice is clipped and angry.
"It's him, isn't it?"
"I don't know what you mean dad?" Donna replies, though she absolutely does. Her heart sinks. He we go, she thinks.
"Harvey Specter," her dad spits out. "He has the temerity to make out that I don't have my own daughter's best interests at heart. Then what does he do? Knocks her up and runs away."
"Dad!"
"Tell me I'm wrong Donna."
"I'm not telling you anything while you're being like this, dad." Tears fill her eyes. "What should count is that this is my baby, your very first grandchild. And I'm happy. Can't you just be happy too?"
"So you're telling me it's not his?" her dad sneers. "He's had you dangling on a string for years. He's ruined your life. You gave up everything for him. And now this."
"Jim, please!" her mom tries to intervene.
"No, Clara, I'm going to say my piece. We've watched while she has wasted all her talents, given up on all her dreams. Just to be a secretary for some guy who uses her to get what he wants and doesn't show her any respect."
"Dad, it's not…" Donna tries to interject.
"What will people think of you Donna? Where's your self respect?"
She stands there, shocked to her core. "If anyone doesn't respect me, dad, clearly it's you," says Donna icily. "I think it's better if we give each other some space."
She turns away, opens the door and walks out, striding off as fast as she can before they can see her tears flow or follow her.
She is a few blocks away and planning to make her way back to the station, to head back to New York, before she realises she left her bag behind and has no money. Just then, her phone rings, and she pulls it out of her coat pocket, expecting it to be her mom. It's Harvey. After how they left things, she might have ignored him, let him stew. But right now he seems the lesser of two evils, she needs someone and he's there, and so she picks up.
Harvey's heart is broken for her. There are no traces of Donna's usually buoyant, sassy self in the woman sat slumped in front of him, picking anxiously at the label on her water bottle.
He swallows down his rage at Jim. He resists the urge to storm out, hunt him down and have it out with him, as he did once before. He has been talking to Dr Agard about what it means to put Donna first. Even he can see that going after Jim, all guns blazing, isn't that.
He starts by dealing with his shame at the part he has played. "I'm so sorry Don. And I'm so sorry if there's any truth in what he said at all about - about how I've treated you. I know I'm not what you deserve. But you're the most important person in my life, you know that, right?"
Donna doesn't respond, tears now sliding down her face.
"What do you want to do now?"
Donna shakes her head. "I don't know," she whispers.
"OK. I'm going to see if I can get you a room at my hotel for tonight. We can talk, you can rest, and we can let everyone calm down. Then tomorrow we will go see them together, and we'll find a way to make it right with your dad."
She nods dumbly, just glad that Harvey is taking charge.
He disappears for ten minutes, settles the bill, and calls his hotel, then a couple of others suggested by the waitress.
"Everywhere is pretty booked up, but my room is a suite, so we can make it work. Let's pick up whatever you need, then we can check in. And you should message your mom. She must be worried sick."
They pick up some toiletries, underwear and some cosy pyjamas, and once they're installed in the suite, Harvey runs her a bath and orders room service.
Donna feels a lot better after the warm, scented bath and some good food. Home Alone is on TV. Harvey brings Donna a blanket, flops down next to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. She snuggles into his chest, and he presses a kiss into the top of her head.
As the film finishes, Harvey turns to Donna. "What I said last night. We need to talk about it."
She knows she should be pleased that he wants to talk, knows they need to. But she's not really in the mood for more drama, so she tries to brush it off. "It's fine Harvey," she says a little tightly.
"No, it's not fine. I don't get a free pass for being awful to you just because your dad was worse today.
"The contraception. I'm sorry I threw that in your face. I won't again. I literally couldn't care less about it. I'm just used to grabbing whatever I can to defend myself when I'm being attacked."
"I didn't mean to attack you Harvey. I'm not your enemy. We need to be on the same side."
"I know you aren't." He sighs. "I think it's pretty clear that I'm my own enemy. Saying stupid shit like that is one of the reasons I worry I'll never be any good for you. And it was stupid because I didn't even mean it."
"You really don't care about what I did?"
"I don't, truly. Right from that night we found out, I knew I wouldn't undo this even if I could. Your dad may not be happy about this, but we are, right? And that's what counts."
"Are you happy Harvey? Because I worry that you've… you've had your head in the sand. That's not an attack," she adds hurriedly.
"Yeah. I am. I told you on our vacation that I would want this, a family. And I would never have had the guts to pursue it. I'm kinda glad fate took over." He pauses. "I, uh, told Mike last night. I hope that's ok?"
She nods and smiles. If he is telling people, that feels like a giant step forward.
"He made me realize that I may not have seemed very engaged with the baby. It may not have been obvious, Don. But I have been thinking about it. A lot.
"The biggest thing I've done is start seeing someone." He looks away, embarrassed. "A therapist."
"OK." Donna gives him space to elaborate.
"I want to do the best I can. For you and the baby."
Her heart floods with sympathy for him. "I think that's a good idea Harvey. I know that can't be easy."
He swallows and nods. "I've also been thinking about where we might live, how we will manage it when the baby is born, whatever happens...with us. I've got some ideas that I want to talk about."
She nods, speechless. She had no idea.
"And I'm getting the finances in order so you and the baby won't ever have to worry about that. I'm setting up a trust fund. Transferring some assets."
She's struggling to hold it together. "Harvey. I.. I didn't know. I don't know what to say."
"I fucked up this weekend. I should have been here for you. And there are probably so many other things I haven't done, or I've done wrong, that I don't even know about. But don't think I'm not interested, that this isn't my priority."
"You just need to talk to me, Harvey," says Donna, her voice choked.
"I'm sorry, I know. I guess I'm just used to you knowing everything, which is stupid. With stuff like this, obviously you can't."
Donna can't hold it in any more, and her body is racked with big sobs, the ugly kind, she thinks with horror, as Harvey pulls her into a fierce hug and she buries her face into his shoulder.
"If I'm getting it wrong again, you're gonna have to tell me what you need ok?" he murmurs into her hair, as she shudders in his arms.
After she calms down, she goes and splashes cool water on her face, and returns, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry Harvey. Tough day. Hormones, probably," she smiles weakly. She has had to get used to displaying vulnerability lately. It doesn't come easily.
"I also need to tell you what I need, not expect you just to work it out, like some kind of test. And I think what I need is just more of you. Your time. I'm worrying about so much stuff. Every little twinge or niggle and I'm straight to Google. Sometimes I just need a hug. Or someone to talk it all through with. And there are so many practical things to sort out. I just - need some time with you when we aren't at work, when we can focus on this."
"OK. How about we pick a night each week, and we have dinner. Spend some time together. And if you need me between times, tell me, OK?"
"OK."
It's getting late and they're both exhausted. They agree that the bed is big enough for just friends to share, but when it comes down to it, Harvey shuffles over to Donna's side and holds her close. As she drifts off, she luxuriates in his warmth, his familiar smell, the steady beat of his heart, lulling her to sleep. She can't let herself get too used to this, she thinks sadly.
Harvey lies there for a while, hand resting lightly on the gentle swell of Donna's stomach, going over what lies ahead tomorrow. He's going to have a hard time keeping his cool with Jim after what he said to Donna today. He hopes he can do it, for her, for the baby. For their family.