A/N: I literally have so many other things I should be doing other than writing fiction, but...it's so fun and refreshing after writing only academic papers. My essay can wait a little longer while I write this chapter, and maybe I'll even feel better writing it after flexing the imagination for a while.
I've enjoyed reading the feedback you all have left on this story-it's truly a joy to know someone is enjoying the words on this screen. Hope you all are having a great week, and as always, thanks for reading.
June 16, 2022
"Love is a binding force, by which another is joined to me and cherished by myself."
Almost thirty-two years ago, Henry spoke those words in front of a minister and a few witnesses. Elizabeth had been holding his hands so tightly, and when he spoke those words from none other than Thomas Aquinas, she couldn't help but feeling as though she had melted. Previously courageous, ready to brave this new adventure of marriage together—she always had a knack for being able to tackle any situation head on—she had to use Henry's hands to support her suddenly gelatinous legs underneath her.
When her parents had died, she wanted so badly for someone to hold her. She had to hold Will, console him, make the plans to move in with their aunt, clean the house, pack the house, listen to Will's crying while he slept beside her in the bed those next few months...and wanted to be held in return. She had to stomach all of it alone, and not only stomach it, but stand tall and be the one Will could lean on for the rest of his life.
But when she met this Marine, he slowly found holes in that hard exterior. "You make me feel like a boiled egg," She had once told him. It was the anniversary of her parents' death, and the first time they were together on that day in their three years of marriage.
When he gave her that confused look, she went on to explain, "I have this…this shell. And you just crack it and slowly peel away at it. And Henry," She had paused because her voice cracked, "I'm soft inside."
She laughs at the memory now, knowing that she has kept regenerating a shell for him to pick away at like some kind of hobby throughout their three decades of marriage. Sometimes, even, when he gets through the shell and there's nothing else to take off, he pokes at that soft underbelly, the most vulnerable pieces of her, and gets her to spill her feelings. She stopped resisting this process about six years into the marriage and just lets nature take its course. Henry will always peel back the layers of her shell, and that's what has made their marriage one that is built upon such trust of each other.
Although yesterday and even the days leading up to it were chaotic, she feels a sense of calmness again as they lay on one beach blanket together. It may be sunny and hot, and their bodies may be slightly overheated even though the umbrella provides a good amount of shade, but she couldn't help curling into a ball and letting him hold her today. The breeze is cool enough that they aren't miserable being glued to each other, so she has laid here like this for hours.
The absolute sickness of the whole situation has worn off a little. Although she hadn't put much thought into the idea of pregnancy prior to this vacation, she had that niggling thought in the back of her mind for the last few weeks. It bothered her, but between being busy herself and Henry having a lot on his plate, she didn't want to say anything. It was silly, anyway—Jason had just gotten through calling them "old" before they left on this trip. It was a worry for a woman much younger than herself, so she thought.
Those vows that Henry spoke all those years ago to her repeatedly were true. She did join him, and he joined her, and the sanctity and pleasure of marriage is that you have someone to share your anxieties with. You no longer have to bear it all on your own. You sometimes have to give into your metaphorical gelatinous legs and lean on your spouse, and they are there. Sometimes you have to both lean on each other at the same time. And that's what they're doing now. Even though he's holding her like the baby that she feels she is right now, neither one of them are feeling "big" like their normal, day-to-day braveness would lead people to believe. No, instead, both of them are very small right now, borderline fragile. And sometimes even the big and brave need to be held.
June 16, 2022 | Elizabeth
It was now the hottest point of the day, and Elizabeth began feeling uncomfortable and a bit stifled. She wriggles in his arms and looks over at him, "Henry?"
"Hmm?"
"Let's go eat some lunch." She says.
They make their way inside the house after rinsing the sand off of their bodies. Once inside, they strip from their swimwear and into loose clothing, nursing their slight sunburns they've obtained, and Henry starts putting together some turkey sandwiches for them to share.
Although cooking has never been a strong suit of hers, and she's always been thankful Henry knew how to cook—otherwise she didn't know how the kids would have stayed nourished—she and Henry have always worked well together in the kitchen. She knows it always feels like a well-oiled machine. They almost never bump into each other, and they inherently know what the other will be doing. She gets the chips, the side dishes, whatever she needs to do to help Henry while he works over the stove or oven. She gets the drinks and the dishes out so that he can put the food on plates, and their system almost never fails.
Almost.
"Babe," Elizabeth had grumbled, leaning her side on the counter and catching her breath, "I know I've stepped on your foot twice now. And I know you're getting frustrated." She said, crossing her arms over the curve of her stomach, resting them there like a nice little armrest. "Do you want me in the kitchen or no?"
"No." Henry answered swiftly, and it immediately lit her up. The smirk that he wore on that devilish face also infuriated her.
She felt her face turn a shade of red before she huffed and rolled her eyes, "Fine," She said, "Make Easter dinner on your own. Your family will call me Queen Elizabeth whether I made the whole meal or whether I sat on my ass the entire time. I'm too tired anyway." She said before piping up again and adding, "It's 1999, the last year of the twentieth century. Men can go ahead and make the dinners all on their own! New feminist wave!" She griped all the way into the living room, pursing her lips together whenever she hears him chuckle. She knew how childish she sounded, but she was so tired and her feet and back hurt so bad.
When she sat down on the couch, she couldn't help but wriggle around and try to find a position that was comfortable enough for her to lay in. The contractions had started this morning, but they weren't close enough together for her to worry about yet. She knew if she called her doctor that they would just make her come in and be evaluated, and frankly, she wanted the comfort of her own home over the discomfort of a hospital bed. Her legs and feet were splayed out in front of her, but they didn't even look like her own limbs—her toes were much too puffy to be her own. She finally got into a position that didn't make her back ache as badly before when she felt a release of sorts, and then realized what had happened. "Henry," She called out, sitting up again and looking back into the kitchen over the top of the couch.
"Are you okay?"
He sounded frantic, so he must've heard the panic in her own voice. "I—I think it's time to go to the hospital." She admitted, slowly moving to stand up. She felt an immense amount of pressure in her lower back, "I need to go pee first." She said, "But can you grab my bag from upstairs? If I even attempted to walk up those things, I would only make it to step two." She babbled, trying to take her mind off the pain and sudden anxiety she felt.
He was already rushing back down with her bag before she had made it to the bathroom yet. "I think we need to just get going, honey." He said, the concern overtly apparent in his tone.
"I think you're right."
A body foreign to your normal one, though, makes you a little rusty in your normal routine—even the kitchen routine.
"What time will Dr. Gorrell be here?" Henry asks, taking a bite of his sandwich.
Elizabeth looks down at the time on her phone and sighs a little, "She said on the phone that she would be here at 1:30, barring the flight lands on time and everything."
In normal circumstances, if a doctor had to visit the president while on vacation, Marine One would be sent to pick them up from Walter Reed and would then send them back whenever they were finished. However, Elizabeth knew if Marine One picked up Dr. Gorrell from Walter Reed, the rush of gossip and concern would fill every news cycle from here until the next election. To spare her press secretary, she decided to just buy Dr. Gorrell a plane ticket and let her fly in like any other person would do.
After the hour had passed, Dr. Gorrell was let in the front door once she passed the checks from Secret Service. "Hello, Madam President," She greets, "Hello Dr. McCord."
They both say their hellos before heading into the living room, answering all of Dr. Gorrell's questions about her symptoms. When Elizabeth asked Dr. Gorrell to come, she had warned her that they took a pregnancy test already and it was positive, but Dr. Gorrell reminded her that those can be inaccurate.
As Elizabeth watched Dr. Gorrell write down all of her symptoms on her computer, she couldn't help but feel her spy instinct kick in. She knew by the look on Dr. Gorrell's face that everything was leading to a positive, not-inaccurate test, and that this was really happening.
Dr. Gorrell had pricked Elizabeth and drew her blood not long after she arrived, and many minutes of conversation had passed when the little portable machine she had brought with her finally beeped. "Well," She says, shifting her gaze back to Henry and Elizabeth, "It's all true. And if I had to guess, you're about three months into this thing."
"Three months?" Henry blurts, then looks over at Elizabeth,
She looks back at him and shrugs, "I mean, I've been feeling bad for a while. I thought it was just the stress and the time in my life. Body changes." She admits, moving her gaze back to Dr. Gorrell. "I'm going to try to keep this a secret for as long as I can." She explains.
She and Henry had talked about it after lunch. If it was all true, and they were really going to have a baby this late in the game, they needed to keep it quiet until it could no longer be done. She needed to have time to get everything in order for Vice President Morejon to take over in the last bit of time, and then take over for the first month or two after the baby is born. They decided to leave it at that, for now, because plans change and thinking that far ahead would be fruitless other than to produce more anxiety.
Dr. Gorrell tells them that they will continue to receive the most confidential care, and to reduce the possibility of it being found out, she would fill everything out under a pseudonym and only make house calls unless it was a dire emergency. After somewhat uneasily congratulating them, she was back out of the door and making her way to the airport once more.
June 16, 2022 | Henry
"Three months?" That took him by such surprise that he couldn't help but cry those two words out. He looked over at Elizabeth, hoping she would dispute this and that they would actually have more time to figure it all out. Surely, she couldn't have been so far along yet. He hadn't noticed anything different until recently, and he always prided himself in knowing her body second-best, behind Elizabeth herself.
When she looks back at him, though, he knows three months is probably accurate.
"I mean, I've been feeling bad for a while. I thought it was just the stress and the time in my life. Body changes." She admits, "I'm going to try to keep this a secret for as long as I can."
When the two women began talking about future care, Henry zoned out a little. Normally, he was very involved in all of the appointments, but this one—he couldn't wrap his head around it. A new dad again at fifty-four? He suddenly got a visual of what his future would look like: arguing with teachers that he, indeed, is the father, and not the grandfather of this child.
And then the worry sank in. Elizabeth. She's fifty-two—she's not far behind him in age. She already has the most immense amount of stress on her because of her job, but now? What will this do to her? Will this pregnancy harm her physically, too? The last time they went through this, Elizabeth was thirty, turning thirty-one not long before Jase was born. He knows enough to know that there are complications with a pregnancy this late in life, and he would be fooling himself if he believed otherwise.
When the door shut behind Dr. Gorrell, it was like he had snapped out of his fog. "We're really having a baby." He says, still in disbelief. Now that it was confirmed and truly happening, it somehow felt less real. It was crazy, right?
"We really are." She whispers, running her hands through her hair.
They stay quiet for a few moments, and then she breaks that silence while sitting on the couch again. "Henry," She calls out quietly, her voice barely even audible, but frantic and filled with anxiety. "I want to be happy. I do." She admits, "But…I—"
"I feel the same way, babe." He says, walking over to sit down on the couch with her. He slides himself behind her, straddling his legs around her and letting her lean back into his chest. He wraps his arms around her body and cranes his neck down to see her face.
How he loved that face so much throughout all these years, and how he loves every tiny wrinkle that is now appearing at faster rates. He loves the gray that pokes out at her roots whenever she's about to have a hair appointment. He has loved every piece of her, and he is taking in how serious her face is now. With every other pregnancy, he's gotten to enjoy the excitement and the nervousness that she wore, but this one is different.
"I'd be lying if I said I'm not worried about you, first and foremost." He begins, "Not about the presidency or any of that. But about you."
"What do you mean?"
"Babe," He says, "We're not spring chickens."
"They've made a lot of medical advances, it's safer these days." She reminds him.
He nods in defeat, "I know, I know, but the danger is still there. I never worried about you carrying children and birthing them before."
"Even when I was crying out in pain and begging for an oxygen mask when I was giving birth to Stevie?" She asks, raising her brows and the corners of her lips to almost form a smile.
"Even then," He says, laughing and shaking his head. "I knew you were strong. I knew you were so healthy and that death would be a fool to mess with you. But after three times of doing that and many years later, you're still strong and healthy—don't get me wrong—but that element of added risk is still prevalent. It scares me."
She takes his hands and squeezes them, letting herself relax again into his chest. The weight pushing down on his ribs had the opposite effect of what would be normal. He somehow felt like he could breathe again when she pushed that weight into him. "We'll just have to trust our doctors." She says, then looks back at him again, "You aren't asking me to consider—"
Henry remembered the conversation he'd had with Elizabeth not long after they were married about abortion. It was still a hush-hush topic back then, but someone in the company that Elizabeth knew had just had one and they were discussing how people have treated the woman differently ever since.
"You would think she had committed murder right in front of everyone's faces, Henry. I feel so bad for her." She said as she was putting her pajamas on that night.
He had wondered what her thoughts on the topic were. That was a conversation that just simply hadn't come up in their time of knowing each other. He was curious, and felt like it was an appropriate time to ask, "Would you ever have an abortion if you were in her position?"
She stopped what she was doing and thought for a moment. He loved when she did that—he always knew he could count on her thinking things through. "Well," She starts, "If I was unmarried and in a competitive career like we are in the CIA, and I didn't want to take on the job of being a single mom while doing all the other stuff, then yeah. I would." She explained. "Isabelle is in that boat. She doesn't have a support system outside of me and Julia, and I guess George counts too, but she would have had no one. She would have had to take time from work and she's in a position now where she can go deep—so yeah, I really think I would."
He nodded and soaked all the information in. If he could always rely on her to think things through, he owed it to her to always process the facts.
She sat down on the bed and looked over at him, "I considered an abortion once." She announced, and it threw him.
"What?" He asked, incredibly confused. He hopefully knew her well enough to know she didn't have kids now, and he's pretty sure she would've let him in on that piece of her past if so.
"In high school," She said, laughing and shaking her head, "It was a hard time, Henry. I was dating some real piece of work about a year after my parents' wreck. He really only went out with me because he felt I was easy in an innocent kind of way, and I really was." She said, visibly looking as though she was going to ball up into a cocoon.
"I was vulnerable, and he definitely took every advantage of that. I had a pregnancy scare, but it was a false alarm. And I considered it back then, so why wouldn't I consider it now if I were Isabelle?" She asked. "But back then, I was, I think, even more stubborn. And I really just decided that even if I was pregnant, it wouldn't be the worst thing that had ever happened to me. That maybe, somehow, this was a weird destiny-type of thing and that guy was meant to be and…blah blah blah…" She laughed at her own babbling. "I'm too stubborn and I like a good challenge every once in a while, but if the circumstance called for it…" She trailed off and shrugged her shoulders to finish her point.
"No." He says quickly. "I know you've never considered that an option for yourself unless the circumstance really called for it. I know you, and I know you're stubborn, and you see every challenge as an obstacle you need to leap over. I'm just asking you to be careful." He warns, brushing his fingers through her hair. "I don't want to lose you."
June 16, 2022 | Elizabeth
"I don't want to lose you." He told her before complete silence.
She had been resting in his arms pretty easily up until that point in their conversation. She'd considered the risks already to her physical health, but she still had her mind made up. Maybe he was right and it was stubbornness, and she did need to be extra careful, so she took every word he spoke into careful consideration.
After a stretch of quiet, she turns over on her stomach so that their bodies faced each other, pressing into one another for steadiness, and laid her head down on his chest again. The sound of his heart beating grounded her once more.
"So…three months, huh?"
She snorts and sits up a little, looking at his face. "Yeah, three months." She says, shaking her head in disbelief. "I really thought I was just getting a lot of germs. Turns out it was your fault."
"My fault?" He gasps.
"Ohhh, buddy, your fault!" She teases, "You're like…like…the biggest germ of them all." She says, egging him on. "My body just apparently can't resist what you have to offer, I guess."
He squeezes her a little and kisses her on the lips. She loves forehead kisses, cheek kisses, neck kisses, and everything else in between, but the connection she feels whenever their lips touch is sometimes too overwhelming. It makes everything in her body flash whenever they've not shared this connection in a while. And with the chaos and absolute mess they've found themselves in over the past thirty hours, she needed that connection. It's silly to say she missed being kissed when Henry has offered his lips everywhere else on her body from her collarbone up, but this made her feel at home once more.
When she opens her eyes to find him an inch away from her face, opening his eyes, too, she feels a burning in the pit of her stomach.
He must sense it, or feel it, or something, because he whispers, "How about we go upstairs?"
"How about we stay right here on this couch?" She replies, kissing him again and rolling herself between the cushions and his body so that he could roll on top of her.
He laughs when they make the awkward shift, "I know I've done this for three different pregnancies, but the first time after finding out is always the most…" He pauses to search for the word.
"Embarrassing?" She throws out, "Awkward?" When he nods, she giggles underneath him and agrees, "It is weird knowing there's someone here, even though they're completely unconscious for the event." She admits. "It's always weird, too, whenever you first feel them kick in there." She says, losing herself to the memories temporarily.
She smiles when she thinks about the first time she felt Stevie move. She was nineteen weeks along, and it startled her so badly that she stood up from her desk and made sure there wasn't something that had run across her stomach and fooled her senses. Sometimes it felt like an intrusion, and sometimes it felt like a simple little joy. But Henry was right, it was awkward and embarrassing the first time they have sex after knowing there's another someone between them. It's natural, but human nature is sometimes unexplainably weird.
"Let's get this first time out of the way so we can have other times this week." She whispers hotly, pressing herself up against his hips. "We can't waste the whole vacation outside in the sun, right?"