Winter
2011
They run into each other in the hallway outside Molly’s door. “All in bed?” he asks quietly.
“Almost.”
She nods at Molly’s door. “I just have to tuck Molly in. Claudia
should still be awake if you want to say good night.”
“Good idea.” He kisses her temple and moves down the hall.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
She lets a smile inch across her face, before pushing the corners of lips down and opening the door. Molly sits in the middle of her room, surrounded, again, by dolls. She tugs nightgowns over their heads and tucks them into makeshift beds. Where the tiara once sat, a conical shaped hat with long ribbons sits. An elastic band around her chin keeps her princess hat in place as she hurries to finish changing her dolls.
“Alright, Mugwump, what did I say about bed?” She puts her hands on her hips and hopes she looks stern. Her lips twitch as she studies Molly’s outfit of footed pajamas and princess hat.
“Princess Mugwump,” Molly corrects as smiles at her mother. “I had to finish putting them to bed.” She holds up a doll that is half-dressed. “They’re tired.”
“Oh,” she nods. “Well, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Their mommy needs to go to sleep now.” She crouches down in front of her daughter and removes the hat. She taps Molly’s nose and says, “Bedtime, sweetie.”
“Tell me a story.”
“Not tonight. It’s too late tonight.” She guides Molly to her bed and tucks the blankets tightly around her. Kissing her cheek, she says, “You go to sleep now. Sweet dreams.”
The door opens and Harm ducks under its frame, carrying Claudia on his shoulders. She resists the urge to sigh, knowing it will do no good. “Claud wants to sleep in here tonight. That okay, Mols?”
Molly nods and edges to the far side of her bed. Claudia giggles as he drops her onto the now vacant side of the bed. “Tell us a story, Daddy,” Molly demands.
He drops down next Mac on the bed. His chin resting against her shoulder, he begins, “Once upon a time, there were two beautiful princesses…”
Early Fall 2004
Fall crept in and coated the leaves with a fine film of dust, making them a dull, flat green. Grey clouds pushed against the blue, crowding the sky until only thing bands of sunlight filtered through their bulk. As the wind ushered summer out, the heat began to dissipate. Only traces of its warmth lingered in the afternoons.
They were meeting for lunch to discuss a case. He claimed he needed her opinion. The case was easy; an anesthesiologist was accused of stealing drugs from Bethesda. Because he was prosecuting, he really didn’t need any help. It was an excuse, an attempt to find a way back to where they had been before. Before Paraguay, before their rash decisions and thoughtless comments had pushed them so far apart they could barely see each other. Their lunches, though more frequent than they had been, were often awkward and filled with more pauses than words.
“I got the results of the amnio this morning,” she said as he stepped into her office. Boxes and files sat on her chairs and desk. Telling the Admiral, and their friends, had been easier than she had thought it would be. If they were shocked, then years of training kept them from showing it. If there were whispers, she found she could ignore them. But she was still moving to the judiciary. They were short judges and the more structured schedule would be easier for her.
“You had an amnio?” he asked, pushing a box away from the door. “What on earth is in that thing?”
“Books.” She glanced at the box. “I told you that I was going to, remember?”
“Vaguely.” He lowered an eyebrow as he tried to recall the conversation. “I was on the Patrick Henry, right?”
“Give the man a cookie.” She signed the last of the reports she was reviewing and looked up at him.
“Is everything all right? Aren’t they risky?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. Better than fine.” She capped her pen and stood up. “And yes, there’s a risk, but it’s small.” Gathering her cover and purse, she walked around the desk but didn’t move to the door. “Harm, can I ask you something?”
His hand rested on the doorknob. “What?”
“Do you care if we have a boy or a girl?”
He frowned and leaned against the doorframe. “I haven’t thought about it much. I mean, in terms of preferences.” He paused. “I have Mattie, so it would be nice, I think, to have a son.”
“Oh.” She turned her cover in her hands, running her fingers over its crease. “What about a little girl?” she asked quietly. “Would you be disappointed?” The space between her shoulder blades tightened and she eased onto the edge of her desk to take the weight off her feet.
“No,” he said. “Why would you-” His cover slipped from his fingers. He bent down quickly to retrieve it, eyeing her stomach on the way up. “Are we-”
She nodded and glanced into the bullpen. “Shut the door.”
“We’re
having a girl?” he managed to push the words out.
“I hope you don’t mind knowing. The doctor told me and I had
to tell someone.”
He stepped forward, then stopped, reconsidering his actions. “We’re having a girl,” he stated, this time a little louder and more assertively.
She gestured at him, the flat of her hands pushing down to the floor. “Ssh, keep your voice down,” she ordered softly. “Yes, we’re having a girl.”
He enveloped her in a hug and rested his head on top of hers. She hesitated before wrapping her arms around his waist and sighing. “So you really don’t mind?” she asked, her voice low and muffled against his sleeve.
He reminded himself not to be annoyed by the question. They had been tentative with each other for too long for either one to make assumptions. “Why would I mind? Besides,” he joked, “we don’t get much choice in the matter.”
She pulled back, resting her hands on the curve of her stomach, and looked away. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “It matters to some people.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yes,” she said. “I already told you that.”
“Then isn’t that enough?” He laid his hands on her biceps and waited until she looked at him. “Do you mind?”
“No,” she said. She smiled, a real smile, one that hadn’t made an appearance in a while around him. “I’m thrilled. Scared out of my mind, but thrilled.”
He moved a stack of folders from a chair and guided her into it. Cleaning off the other chair, he pushed it closer to hers before sitting down. “Why are you scared?” He rested his elbows on his knees and said, “I’ll tell you why I am, if you give me your reasons.”
She stared at her hands. Bargaining for time, before giving voice to a fear she would rather remained quiet, she said, “You go first.”
“All right,” he agreed. “I’m now sure I know how to be a father,” he said quietly.
Her gaze shot to his. “What? Why? You’re already a good dad to Mattie. You’re great with AJ and Jimmy. What gave you that idea?”
He
smiled. “I didn’t say it was rational.”
Reaching out, she touched his cheek lightly, brushing her thumb against
his cheekbone. “You’ll be a great dad,” she said softly.
“You had good role models.”
“Some of the best,” he agreed, the words barely above a whisper. “Now let’s hear your concerns.”
He suspected that they were similar to his. That she was worried about how she would handle a child when her own childhood had been so dismal. But she turned her face away and drew a deep breath. Her shoulders shuddered as she exhaled slowly. “They go beyond irrational,” she said.
“Mac,” he put a finger under her chin and turned her face to his, “what’s got you so worried?”
She waved a hand and let out a small, nervous laugh. “I reserve the right to say I told you so at the end of this when you tell me I’m crazy.” Biting her lip, she paused. “I’ve been thinking about this since my doctor called. Little girls here,” she gestured to the bullpen, “don’t have a very good history. First little Sarah and then Loren’s little girl. I don’t want anything to happen to her.” She looked at him. “Please tell me I’m being stupid and hormonal.”
He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his face. He hadn’t expected his. How could he allay her fears when there were no guarantees that he was right? Telling her he would be a good mom would have been easy. Assuring her he wanted a daughter was cake walk. But this was different. Only medical science could give her the assurances she wanted and, even then, there were still small chances that things could go wrong. He almost regretted asking, because he couldn’t say what she needed to hear. “The doctor said everything was fine.”
“Yes, but.”
“No,” he interrupted. “No buts. We’ll stop at yes. She’s going to be okay. She’s going to be happy and healthy and loved.”
She nodded slowly. “I have to talk to Harriet.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
Scooting forward in her chair, she placed a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for not telling me I’m crazy.”
“Same goes.” He stood and tugged her to her feet. Her stomach bumped against his waist as she struggled to find her balance.
“Shifting center of gravity,” she laughed a little. Her hands gripped his forearms and his cupped her elbows while she tried to find her feet.
“I’ll
keep that in mind.” He loosened his hold, but didn’t let go.
“Ready for lunch?”
She nodded. “Do you need your file?”
“Nah,” he said, “we can discuss it some other time.” He stepped back and released his hold on her arms.
“Harm,” her fingers caught the cuff of his jacket, “I know I haven’t said it, but I’m glad you’re her father.”
He blinked, then smiled. “That makes us even, because I’m glad she has you for a mom.”