Dawn

by Vicki James, 2000

Disclaimer: The West Wing and its characters are the property of Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is intended.

Please do not post or distribute this story without the author's permission.

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It was night time still, but the absolute darkness had yielded to a glow in the sky, a harbinger of the coming sunrise.

A gentle breeze teased the sheer white curtains that hung in a cascade over the slightly opened window. The only sounds to be heard were the predawn chirping of the birds and the noise of a lone vehicle traversing the crunching gravel of the country lane. The cacophony of the city, of ceaseless traffic, occasional sirens and restless humanity was far away from the hidden Connecticut inn.

As the wind pushed the curtains aside to allow the coming light to permeate the room, dark shapes resolved into shadowy yet distinguishable images.

The bricked mantle of the fireplace, its embers long cooled, jutted out from the wall. A massive oak armoire loomed beyond it. A settee nestled beneath the lone window and two arrowback chairs awaited occupants needing a rest from their feet. The tall posts of the large bed stood silent sentry in the dim light.

On an old-fashioned clothes rack a simple white silk dress had been carefully hung. The sight of it prompted a series of images to play on memory's screen, the picture ever changing as though being viewed in a moviehouse of a century before.

They met at the door to the modest reception hall and moved hand in hand to the officiant waiting for them at the front of the room. After the words had been spoken which would bind them together on a new level they turned to be greeted by the smiling faces of their family members and a few close friends and colleagues. Those assembled were dressed in elegant simplicity for the late afternoon affair.

Following well wishes over champagne and a floral embossed cake, they drove into the evening to the country retreat which would offer a weekend's respite from the hectic goings-on of everyday life. The ride passed with an engagement of the verbal discourse that had incited the attraction between them. There were also moments of companionable silence, soft smiles and chaste touches as they were struck with the awe of what their relationship had evolved to and what the future promised for them.

Now, as the first rays of sunlight slipped through the window coverings, Donna turned into the arms of the man who stirred beside her in the bed.

Her husband.

Josh.

Warm and contented with each other, they greeted the dawn of a new day.

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