Archive of Our Own

1978

Snow is piling up in huge drifts on the side of the road and against the houses on Bradford Court. Elizabeth flounders through the highest mound of it near the fence between her house and Richard's, falling once before she finally staggers up to the porch and lets herself in.

The relief from the wind and the cold is instant. "Richard?" She shivers and pulls her scarf away from her neck. Richard's house is warm and shut tight against the rising wind and the sharp snowflakes. Elizabeth glances out the window at the weather she just escaped from.

Mary Anne runs in from the living room and beams up at Elizabeth. "Hi!" she says brightly.

"Hello." Elizabeth scoops Mary Anne into her arms and kisses her warm cheek. "Where's your daddy?"

Mary Anne points towards the living room and Elizabeth carries her through, still shivering slightly. "Richard?"

He looks up from his desk in surprise. "Elizabeth."

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" she asks with a smile, setting Mary Anne down. The little girl runs to the window and presses her nose against the glass, peering out at the thickly-falling snow.

Richard shakes his head tiredly and stretches. "Coffee?"

"No, thanks. I won't stay long." Elizabeth glances to the window uneasily. "This storm is going to be bad, isn't it?"

"So they say," Richard answers, looking at the snow just as anxiously. "I'm glad I didn't have to work today."

"Patrick managed to get to the office before they sent everyone home again," Elizabeth says. "Are you going to be all right here, on your own?"

"I think we'll be fine," Richard answers, smiling at her. "We'll settle in and read for a while." He glances at Mary Anne. "Don't draw on the window," he calls.

Mary Anne stops tracing in the fog against the window, but keeps her nose pressed against it, still peering out at the falling snow.

"When do you think it will stop?" Elizabeth asks. "We got a lot yesterday, but it's been snowing since lunch time and it's all just pilling up..."

"It's supposed to last some time yet," Richard answers. "Everything okay over there?"

"Uh-huh." Elizabeth shifts the curtain aside to check on her house. It's barely visible through the snow. She can see the kitchen light on. "I should go back. Charlie's longing to get out and go sledding. I wouldn't put it past him to try and sneak out while I'm gone."

"Call if you need anything," Richard says.

Elizabeth looks doubtful. "The electricity will probably go out, won't it?"

"Maybe," Richard answers, "but the phone lines will probably be okay. Most of them are underground."

"Oh. Okay." Elizabeth smiles at him and tightens her scarf around her neck again. "Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and make sure you and Mary Anne were all right. I'm going a little stir-crazy, I guess."

"It's only going to get worse," Richard says with a smile.

"Bye, Mary Anne," Elizabeth calls.

Mary Anne waves, still distracted by the snow. "Bye-bye."

Elizabeth turns and heads for the door, but a newly-framed photograph on Richard's desk catches her eye.

"Oh!" she says with delight. "You had it framed!"

Richard chuckles. "Yes."

Elizabeth picks the photograph up to examine it. It's one she took herself, a few weeks ago. Richard had called her in a panic because Mary Anne's baby-sitter needed to leave and he was running late. Elizabeth had slipped next door to watch Mary Anne for half an hour, and had snapped the photograph using Richard's camera as Mary Anne had run to greet him at the door.

"I don't have many pictures of the two of us together," Richard muses after a moment, looking down at the photograph. "There's nobody to take them."

"I'll invest in a telescopic lens and snap a few through the windows," Elizabeth jokes, putting the photo back on his desk.

Richard laughs and walks her to the door. "Thank you for stopping by," he says. "Are you sure you'll be all right over there?"

"Oh, yeah," Elizabeth says, her voice sounding muffled as she pulls her scarf up over her face. "Charlie and Sam will probably kill each other and Kristy will drive me insane, but we'll be all right." She glances doubtfully out into the storm. "I'd better get back. Patrick's down in the basement trying to find batteries and snow shovels. I should go and help."

"Remember, call if you need anything," Richard says.

She nods at him and opens the door, bracing herself against the wind before she starts trudging back to her own house.

"I'm bored," Charlie whines, looking up at Elizabeth in the dim candlelight.

"That makes two of us, kiddo," Patrick sighs, ruffling Charlie's hair.

Charlie shrugs away from him, his temper too short to tolerate it. "When will the TV come back on?"

"Not for a while," Elizabeth says, listening to the wind push up against the house. She feels cold and stiff and exhausted.

It's nearing eleven o'clock at night. The snow, as far as she can tell, has not stopped falling, and the house seems to be growing colder. In an effort to stay warm, Elizabeth has made up the fold-out sofa by the fire, and everyone is heaped on top of it.

Kristy is sleeping soundly, and Sam is dozing against his will. Now and then he stirs himself and sits up, too excited and agitated to truly want to sleep.

Patrick sighs and stretches out on his back. "This thing's uncomfortable," he mutters, shifting around on the bed.

Elizabeth silently agrees, but she doesn't want to give Charlie more ammunition towards his miserable mood. She curls up opposite Patrick, their children between them.

Another gust of wind roars up against the house. The window panes rattle in their frames and the candlelight and the fire flicker as a waft of air manages to find its way into the house. One of the shutters at the back of the house bangs violently.

"Dad," Charlie whispers after a moment. "Tomorrow, can we –-?"

"Go to sleep, Charlie."

Elizabeth watches Charlie pout up at the ceiling.

Charlie's mood hasn't improved by morning, and Patrick's mood has rapidly deteriorated to match.

"There's nothing to eat," Charlie complains. "I want toast."

"You can't have toast," Patrick says impatiently. "The electricity's out." He glances towards Elizabeth. "Give him some cereal or something."

She glares at him, feeling tired and achy after a sleepless night beside three squirming children on the fold-out. Not wanting to argue and add to the tension everyone is already feeling, she pours out a bowl of Froot Loops and sets them in front of Charlie.

He pokes at them with his spoon and sighs, deciding it's not worth putting up a fight when he's been handed a bowl of colourful sugar and milk.

The snow is still falling, though the wind has died down. The sky is almost as white as the ground -- high and uniformly colorless.

Patrick downs the rest of his coffee and puts his mug in the sink. "I'm going out to see if that shutter fell off. I'd better bring in more firewood, too."

"Can I come?" Sam asks excitedly, wandering into the kitchen with bright eyes and tousled hair.

"No," Patrick answers.

"Wait until it stops snowing, honey," Elizabeth says, running her hand over the top of Sam's head. "Come and have some breakfast with me."

Sam matches Charlie's pout with one of his own. "It'll never stop snowing," he says dramatically.

Elizabeth pours him a bowl of Froot Loops as well. "Here you go, Toucan Sam," she says. Sam cracks a smile, and Charlie giggles.

Elizabeth leaves them and follows Patrick to the back door. "Hey," she says, grabbing his arm, "can you try and act a little less like one of the kids, and a little more like someone who knows it isn't the end of the world?"

"Oh, give me a break," he snaps. "You're not exactly loving this situation, either."

"It'll pass a hell of a lot quicker if you grow up a little bit," Elizabeth answers, her discomfort rising and turning into anger. "The boys are offering enough complaints already. Can't you at least pretend to be cheerful?"

Patrick shrugs away from her and pulls his jacket on. "I hate snow," he mutters. He disappears out onto the back porch, grumbling to himself. The wind blows the door closed again.

"We spent the night sleeping in the armchair in front of the fire," Richard says, looking tired as he sets a cup of coffee down in front of Elizabeth. "I think Mary Anne was comfortable, but I certainly wasn't."

Elizabeth grins and takes a large gulp of coffee, praying the caffeine starts its work immediately. "At least she was quiet, right?"

"She was very well-behaved," Richard agrees. He glances through to the living room. Mary Anne is sprawled on the floor, colouring with a box of crayons. "I'm not sure how long it will last, given the amount of snow outside, and the lack of electricity. There was definite disappointment regarding the lack of Sesame Street this morning."

"At my house, too," Elizabeth agrees. "Kristy was very vocal about it."

Richard chuckles and pulls his own cup of coffee towards him. "Is that why you were in such a hurry to get over here this morning?"

Elizabeth smiles and shrugs uncomfortably as she remembers her argument with Patrick. "I guess so," she says.

Spring takes its time arriving in Bradford Court. Even Charlie, who had once declared sledding his favourite thing ever, is sick of the snow.

He complains endlessly about wet shoes and cold mornings.

"Maybe if you didn't go stomping through snow banks with Ricky, your feet would stay dry," Elizabeth says, setting his shoes in front of the fire.

Charlie shrugs his small shoulders. "I just want summer to come," he sighs.

Elizabeth glances outside at the rain, which is slowly melting the last of April's snow. "Me too," she answers. "Watch Kristy, okay?"

"Hm," Charlie answers, flopping down onto the couch. Kristy immediately scrambles off the floor and onto the couch to sit beside him.

"Game time!" she declares. "Ball, ball!" she throws her arms up into the arm and beams at Charlie.

Elizabeth leaves Charlie and Kristy on the couch, her son's protests fading away as she heads upstairs. She knocks quietly on the door of Patrick's study.

"I'm going to pick Sam up," she calls through the door. "Charlie and Kristy are downstairs, can you watch them?"

When she receives no answer, she opens the door to find Patrick reading the newspaper behind his desk.

"What are you doing?" she asks, immediately annoyed. "I thought you were working up here."

"I am working," Patrick answers, matching the annoyed tone in Elizabeth's voice perfectly. "I won't make a very good sports writer if I don't keep up with sporting events, will I?"

"How is reading a week-old newspaper going to help you at all?" Elizabeth asks icily. "Watch Charlie and Kristy, will you? Sam's at Maxine's and it's still raining. I have to go and get him."

Patrick rolls his eyes and throws the paper down, and Elizabeth hates the way he manages to make her so furious after she's asked for something so simple.

"Are you okay?" Maxine lets Elizabeth in.

"Fine," Elizabeth answers, still sounding irritated. "Patrick..." She trails off and shakes her head.

"Oh," Maxine answers, sounding unconcerned. "One of those days, huh?"

"Mm," Elizabeth answers noncommittally, not really wanting to go into any intimate detail. "Did Sam behave himself?"

"Of course he did," Maxine answers warmly. "They're just washing their hands. They've been painting models." She points to the table, which is spread with newspaper. Three small model airplanes sit with their paint drying.

"I'm running out of things for them to do," Elizabeth says. "Thank goodness the weather is starting to brighten up."

"I'll say," Maxine agrees.

When Sam comes downstairs, he grins as his mother. "Did you see my jet?" he asks, pointing to the airplane. "It's a fighter jet."

"No it isn't," Ricky says.

Sam ignores him and reaches for the model.

"Why don't we leave it here until tomorrow?" Elizabeth asks. "It'll be dry, then."

Sam's face falls. "But I want to show Dad."

Elizabeth sighs and carefully picks up the model within a safe sheet of newspaper. The paint still glistens. "Here, then," she says. "But your dad will be really unimpressed if you get any of that paint on the inside of the car. Right?"

"Right," Sam says, holding the model carefully. He looks up at Maxine and says, in a very careful and practised way, "Thanks for having me over, Mrs. Jones."

"You're welcome, honey," Maxine answers.

"Thanks," Elizabeth agrees tiredly.

Maxine smiles at her. "Don't worry, Liz," she says. "It'll be fine." She nods, and Elizabeth knows she's talking about Patrick.

She wonders if she gives off the vibe of this argument being one of many, and that's why Maxine feels such a need to reassure her.

June passes smoothly into July with blue skies.

Maxine lights a new cigarette and blows smoke into the air. "Have you seen Grease yet?"

"No," Elizabeth murmurs. She watches Charlie pitch a baseball to Ricky.

"Strike three!" Charlie screams triumphantly. Ricky tosses the bat into the dirt, but doesn't argue.

"You should go and see it," Maxine says slyly, looking at Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye. "John Travolta in very, very tight jeans."

Elizabeth snorts and then laughs. "It's on my to-do list."

"How are things with Patrick?" Maxine asks, muttering around her cigarette as she watches the boys running around the backyard.

"Fine," Elizabeth answers. She smiles, and Maxine winks at her.

"Told you," she says. "Told you it'd be fine."

Patrick's meal slowly dries out in the oven as Elizabeth sits her kids down to dinner.

"What did you guys do today?" she asks, reaching over to cut Sam's meatloaf into manageable chunks.

"I can do it!" Sam protests. He takes his fork and stabs heartily at his food.

"Ricky and I are gonna play basketball with his dad tomorrow," Charlie says. "They got a hoop put up in their driveway. Can we get one?"

"We'll have to ask your dad about that," Elizabeth says, wincing as she watches Kristy tip a spoonful of peas all over herself.

"Will he be home soon?" Charlie asks hopefully, craning around to look at the clock. "What time is it?"

"You tell me," Elizabeth says, watching Charlie crinkle his nose in concentration.

"Ten minutes after six," he says after a moment.

"Excellent work."

Charlie beams at her. "So he'll be home soon?"

Elizabeth's heart sinks. "I don't know, sweetie. He's working hard."

Charlie sighs and kicks his heels against the legs of his chair. "He's always working," he says heavily.

Patrick doesn't come home until the kids are in bed. Elizabeth sits and waits for him until she starts to worry something terrible has happened.

When he finally comes through the door, her relief overrides her anger.

"Where were you?" she breathes, greeting him at the door. "I was getting worried."

He smells like beer and cigarette smoke. "I went out with the guys and lost track of time." He pecks her cheek and shrugs out of his jacket. "Anything to eat?"

"That's it?" Elizabeth asks incredulously. She follows him, folding his jacket down over her arm. "Patrick, this has to stop," she says, sounding worried and desperate. "The kids barely see you at all anymore."

"I'm earning the money for all that food you just ate," Patrick answers hotly.

"That's all you're doing!" Elizabeth cries. "You're supposed to be doing more! You're supposed to be watching cartoons with them and putting up hoops in the driveway for them..." Her voice breaks, and then to her horror and embarrassment, she finds herself leaning against the wall, sobbing.

Patrick's anger immediately disappears. "Shit, Liz," he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay."

"No it isn't," she mumbles, leaning against him. "Don't dismiss it, Patrick. I don't know what to do anymore."

Patrick hugs her tightly and kisses her cheek and the side of her neck. "It's just work," he says softly. "It's getting busy, that's all. I'm writing bigger articles. I'm writing more columns."

"I don't care," Elizabeth says miserably. She knots his shirt around her fingers as she clutches him. "Please just come home on time."

He kisses the top of her head. "Okay," he says softly. "It'll be all right, Liz."

"It's embarrassing," Elizabeth says quietly, "How much we fight."

Richard watches her silently, not saying anything.

It's been weeks since they've seen each other. Their schedules conflict a lot of the time, with Richard at work during the week. Elizabeth often feels too guilty to visit on the weekend, knowing he's spending longed-for time with his daughter.

But when she does visit him, she unloads everything.

"Sometimes I wonder how much the kids know," she continues softly. "Charlie's bound to start noticing things aren't right." She inhales deeply, staring down at her coffee. "I don't know what to do," she admits helplessly. "Patrick has always been so easygoing..." She frowns down at the table. "The trouble is, he doesn't know when to stop being easygoing and when to become responsible." She rubs her eyes tiredly, and then smiles at Richard, shrugging her shoulders. "It'll be okay," she says bravely, hoping he'll agree with her.

He just smiles back at her, and suddenly she's hit with relief, and the realization that she tells him everything because he doesn't tell her lies in return.

 1979

Elizabeth and Richard sit on the back porch and watch Kristy, Mary Anne and Claudia chat back and forth on a picnic blanket on the grass. The air is warm and the sky is clear. Summer feels as though it has already arrived.

The girls are surrounded by a pile of Barbie dolls. After a moment's discussion, Claudia and Mary Anne start dressing and undressing the dolls happily.

Kristy wages a fierce, plastic-fisted boxing match between Ken and G.I. Joe.

"Dainty, isn't she?" Elizabeth murmurs.

Richard chuckles. "Thank you for watching Mary Anne yesterday," he says after a moment. "I don't know what I'm going to do next week."

"I told you I'd watch her," Elizabeth says. "It's not a problem."

Richard scratches his jaw. "I feel too guilty, leaving her with you all the time," he says. "You have three other children to look after."

"It's not like she's any trouble," Elizabeth says, motioning towards Mary Anne, who is sitting primly and quietly on the edge of the blanket, dancing two Barbie dolls on her knee.

Richard shakes his head and sighs. "I'll find someone else," he says. He rubs his hands over his face, lifting his glasses with the backs of his fingers to cover his eyes. "I can't believe I slipped up like that," he says worriedly.

Elizabeth interrupts him before he can get started on his well-worn rant regarding his unsuitable parenting skills. "It wasn't your fault," she says. "She seemed like a responsible sitter. It's hard, trying to find someone to look after your kids. It's easier now, anyway, with the girls in nursery school some of the time. And they start kindergarten in a few months."

"If I wasn't so sure she'd hate it, I'd put her in day care," Richard says, watching Mary Anne and Claudia giggling as they strip the clothes off another Barbie. "But she's usually so relieved to come home, I don't have the heart to send her to another room full of strange children."

"She doesn't seem to be coping that badly," Elizabeth says reassuringly. "She and Kristy and Claudia have become a lot closer over the past couple of years. And Mary Anne is shy, but she's certainly social. She gets along with the other kids."

Richard smiles. "I know." He sighs and shakes his head. "I still need a sitter for her."

"I'll watch her," Elizabeth says gently.

Richard shoots her a small smile. "Thank you," he says, though Elizabeth's certain he'll be looking for another sitter by tomorrow.

They sit in silence for a while, watching the girls play. Several times, Kristy attempts to talk Claudia and Mary Anne into something else, but they're too absorbed in the fashion show the dolls are now putting on.

Kristy gives up and heads to the fence, where she starts to kick an old soccer ball at the palings, running back and forth to catch it on the rebound.

Patrick remembers their anniversary, and Elizabeth's heart swells. He leaves in the morning with kisses and promises to be home early. She watches him go, feeling anxious, not sure if he can live up to his word.

With her kids at school or kindergarten, Elizabeth spends the day tidying the house and doing laundry. She alternates between cheer and worry. She's not sure what her emotions will turn to if Patrick is late.

When she picks Kristy and Mary Anne up from kindergarten, Kristy sets to asking questions she has obviously been thinking about all day.

"What's an anniversary?" she asks.

Elizabeth glances at her daughter in the rear-vision mirror. "It means a certain amount of time has passed, and you can celebrate something," she says. "Like a birthday."

"Oh," Kristy says. "Is it yours and Dad's birthday?"

"No," Elizabeth says patiently, "it's our wedding anniversary. We got married ten years ago today."

"Oh," Kristy says again. "Is there going to be a cake?"

Elizabeth smiles and turns the corner into Bradford Court. "I suppose we could make one."

Elizabeth drops Mary Anne home first and checks that the baby-sitter is there to look after her. Richard's bad luck with hiring baby-sitters doesn't yet appear to be over.

"I can take her for a while," Elizabeth offers. "We're going to make a cake."

"Fine," is the answer, and the college student flips another page of her fashion magazine.

Mary Anne looks relieved. She slips her hand into Elizabeth's and they head next door together.

"What sort of cake should we make?" Elizabeth asks the girls. They've both pulled stools up to the kitchen counter and are eagerly eyeing the large Desserts recipe book.

"Chocolate," Mary Anne says.

"No," Kristy says, "Vanilla. Wedding cakes are white, I know so."

"Oh," Mary Anne says.

"It doesn't have to be a wedding cake," Elizabeth says. "We could make a chocolate cake and then put vanilla frosting on it."

"Okay," Kristy sighs, making it clear she's giving into a plan she doesn't really approve of.

Elizabeth starts mixing the cake, keeping one eye on the clock. Charlie and Sam come home and dump their backpacks inside the front door before they race to the Jones' house to play basketball.

Elizabeth lets the girls lick the chocolate mixture from the beaters as she smooths the top of the cake and puts it in the oven.

"Did you wear a dress to your wedding, Mom?" Kristy asks, her mouth smeared with chocolate.

"You've seen photos," Elizabeth says, pointing towards the living room, where she and Patrick smile down from the mantel. "Yes, I wore a dress."

"You were pregnant with Charlie," Kristy says knowledgeably.

"Yes," Elizabeth answers, wiping spilled sugar and flour off the countertop.

Kristy turns to Mary Anne. "Did your mom wear a dress?"

Mary Anne frowns. "I don't know," she says. She turns to Elizabeth. "Did she?"

"Yes, she did," Elizabeth says. She gives Mary Anne a smile, suddenly terribly sad that Mary Anne hasn't seen the wedding photos of her mother and father.

Mary Anne smiles back, and doesn't appear to want to ask any further questions.

Patrick smells like chocolate cake and vanilla frosting instead of beer and cigarettes. Elizabeth keeps her arms tight around him, her heart still racing and her skin warm and smooth with slight sweat. Patrick stirs and rolls off her with a sigh, kicking the sheets out so they're not tangled around his legs. He keeps one arm stretched out beneath Elizabeth's shoulders, and she rolls and presses kisses along his bicep and up the curve of his collarbone until she reaches the warmth of his throat.

"Anyone would think you're still twenty one," Patrick murmurs.

Elizabeth laughs softly and kisses his cheek. "I am at heart."

"Me too," he breathes, wrapping his arm around her waist as she settles her cheek against his shoulder.

"Happy anniversary," she whispers, running her eyes over the lines of his profile.

His thumb strokes down the dip of her waist. "Happy anniversary," he says, close to sleep. "Love you, Liz."

"What are you reading to Mary Anne?" Elizabeth asks, taking the cup of coffee Richard hands her.

He looks at her in surprise.

She grins. "I saw you through the window in Kristy's room."

"You know, people have gotten into trouble for spying through windows," Richard says with a smile.

"I don't care," Elizabeth laughs. "I like looking over and seeing Mary Anne crawl into bed at the same time as Kristy. It's a part of the nightly routine I go through. Though you make me feel guilty for not reading to my own daughter."

Richard chuckles and shakes his head, looking amused. "It's Anne of Green Gables," he says after a moment. "It was Alma's."

"Oh," Elizabeth says with a smile. "Does Mary Anne like it?"

"Yes."

Elizabeth sips her coffee, but puts it down again rather quickly. Her stomach feels queasy.

"Are you all right?" Richard asks, watching her closely.

"Fine," Elizabeth says, rubbing her temples. "Just a bit..." She pulls a face.

Richard looks worried. "You should go to the doctor," he says. "It might be something serious."

Elizabeth gives him a calm smile. "I'll be all right," she promises him. "Don't worry."

Summer vacation has stretched on long enough that Patrick can notice the absence of his loud, grass-stained children as soon as he walks in the door. Usually Charlie and Sam greet him in the yard and beg him for a game of baseball, with Kristy rushing to fetch the bats and ball.

He tosses his jacket across one of the kitchen chairs. "It's quiet," he says, leaning over to kiss Elizabeth hello. "Are the kids at Maxine's?"

"No, they're with Mom," Elizabeth says. She smiles at him, but she's feeling nervous. "They'll be back tomorrow morning."

Patrick looks at her in surprise. "Tomorrow? Why?"

She takes a breath, feeling incredibly nervous. She knows this isn't going to go well. "I have to tell you something," she says, and she watches the expression on his face change from one of pleased surprise to one of wariness and suspicion.

"What?" he asks. He pauses for a brief moment. "Is Charlie in trouble at school?"

"No," Elizabeth says, answering defensively. She straightens her back a little and swallows, wishing Patrick would sit down.

He stands opposite her, looking tense and agitated.

She sighs and runs her hand through her hair. "I think I'm pregnant," she says. She waits anxiously for him to say something, silently praying he'll be happy about it.

Smile and kiss me, she thinks desperately. Please.

Elizabeth feels stressed and tearful and worn. She sits in an armchair by the empty fireplace, watching Patrick pace back and forth in front of her.

Both of them are tired, and when she looks at the clock, she's shocked to see how much time has passed.

"I can't believe you did this," Patrick says again, shaking his head.

"If you tell me it's all my fault again, you're sleeping in the car," Elizabeth snaps. "You did your part as well, you know."

She hates him. She hates him because for most of the day she has held a happy little secret in close to her chest, and now all she can feel is stress and anxiety. She doesn't want to feel upset about another baby.

"This isn't the end of the world," she says softly.

Patrick shoots her a look of frustration. "Everything has just been set back five years!" he says. "Kristy will be nearly six when this kid's born. Everything we've been working towards..." He shakes his head and paces to the window. "It's impossible, now."

"It's not impossible!" Elizabeth says angrily. "So we have to spend another couple of years with night-time feedings and diapers. That doesn't mean our lives are over."

Patrick sinks into the armchair by the window and puts his head in his hands. "I never even said I wanted children, you know," he says after a moment.

Elizabeth feels an ugly jolt in her stomach. She folds her arms around herself protectively. "We never had time to talk about it," she says stiffly. "I didn't exactly want to fall pregnant in college, did I? But don't you dare sit there and act like Charlie ruined our lives." She raises her chin and glares at him, but he doesn't look back at her.

Elizabeth sits on the steps of the front porch in the pink light of early morning, her bare toes dabbing at the dewy grass. She's still in the t-shirt and shorts she usually wears to bed, though she's not had a wink of sleep all night.

She looks up as she hears Richard's front door open. He spots her as he reaches for the newspaper, which has landed in the middle of his lawn.

"You're up early," he calls, smiling at her.

She glances back towards her house before she gets to her feet and crosses to the fence. "Got time for coffee before you go to work?" she asks.

His smile falters and he looks her up and down. "Are you all right?"

She rounds the fence and he leads her to the house, looking worried and uncomfortable.

As soon as she's inside, her resolve crumples entirely and she starts to cry.

Richard looks panicked. "Is there something wrong with the kids?" he asks, dropping the newspaper and taking her arm. He guides her gently to an armchair.

"No," she hiccups, wiping her eyes. "Patrick and I have had an argument." She realises how petty and stupid she sounds, but she's had no sleep and all she wants to do is keep away from Patrick and his dark looks and blame. She wants to catch hold of the happy little glow again.

Richard looks uncomfortable, but Elizabeth clutches his hands. "I'm pregnant," she says, "and he doesn't want another baby."

Elizabeth knows, even as she falls apart in front of him, that Richard probably isn't going to cope well with this. She realizes it's probably not fair of her to unload everything upon him, but for the first time she feels as though there is no one else. Her friendships with Maxine and Rioko feel stale and distant. She realises she has never confided anything to either of them.

Nobody has managed to replace Alma, and it's been years and Elizabeth wonders why she's spent them so lonely.

She looks at Richard helplessly. "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't know who else to talk to."

"I know," he answers gently. "It's okay. It's -- it'll be okay."

"Mom!" Kristy leaps into the middle of the bed, and Elizabeth cries out as the mattress lurches beneath her and she's jolted awake.

"Kristy!" she gasps, sitting up and blinking against the light flooding in from the landing. "What's wrong?"

"Santa's been! Quick!" She tugs at her hand and Elizabeth groans and eases her way out of bed, her back aching. Behind her, Patrick coughs and curses under his breath.

"Hurry, Dad, hurry!" Kristy yells at him. "Come and see!"

Elizabeth staggers to the bathroom as Kristy pelts her way back down the stairs. Elizabeth hears her giving shrill instructions to her brothers not to open anything yet.

"We're going to have to keep this Santa charade up for years, now," Patrick says, sounding annoyed. He sits up and rubs his eyes. It's still dark out. "Charlie's too old, Sam's extremely suspicious, and Kristy's already asking questions. It could have been over, this year."

Elizabeth ignores him.

By the time they make their way downstairs, Kristy has ordered her brothers away from the tree to the far end of the room. She stands between them and the presents, her arms folded sternly. She beams as her parents sink down onto the couch.

"Charlie, open the big one first," Kristy instructs.

"I'm going to open this one," Charlie answers grumpily, ignoring his younger sister. He looks sleepy and tousle-haired. Elizabeth suspects he was awoken in much the same manner she was.

The presents are unwrapped quickly with cries of joy.

"Can I go and see what Mary Anne and Claudia got?" Kristy asks, clutching her gifts to her chest.

"Absolutely not," Elizabeth answers, pointing to the clock. "You can wait for a decent hour, I think." She stretches and rubs her back. "What should we have for breakfast?"

"Pancakes!" Charlie says immediately, looking up from a nest of wrapping paper.

"Pancakes?" Elizabeth asks, wondering why on earth she asked the breakfast question aloud. "You're going to be full of Christmas ham later. You won't have room for it if you eat pancakes for breakfast."

"Yes I will!" Charlie promises.

"Me too!" Sam echoes, trying in vain to open something wrapped in plastic.

"I'll have room," Kristy promises. "Please? It's Christmas!"

"You're only allowed to use that excuse once today, and that was yours done, okay?" Elizabeth says, tousling Kristy's hair as she gets to her feet.

Patrick follows her to the kitchen and quietly takes the car keys from the hook by the refrigerator.

"I'll be back in an hour," he says.

She looks at him in alarm. "What?"

"I have to go and get something." He winks at her. "Another present."

Her anger fades a little. "Oh," she says. "What is it?" She glances at the clock. "Isn't it too early to go and fetch another present?"

He kisses her cheek. "Back in a bit."

"Don't be long," she pleads with him. "You won't be long, will you?"

He waves over his shoulder and closes the door quietly behind him.

Elizabeth watches him go, before Sam reminds her about the pancakes. She stands by the stove with an aching back and makes breakfast for her kids. They giggle and bicker about their presents excitedly.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asks, licking syrup from his fork. "Is he working?"

"No," Elizabeth answers, glancing through the window to the empty driveway. "He'll be back soon."

"Is Nannie coming for dinner?" Kristy asks through a mouthful of pancake.

"No, she's at Aunt Colleen's today," Elizabeth reminds her. "It's just us."

Kristy pouts.

Elizabeth is halfway through clearing the breakfast dishes when Patrick returns. Sam gives a shriek of delight and bursts out of the front door into the frosty yard with no shoes on.
Kristy soon spots what sparked Sam's excitement, and Charlie isn't far behind.

"A puppy!" Kristy squeals, following her brothers out into the yard.

Patrick gently hands a squirming puppy over to Sam.

Elizabeth goes to the door. "A puppy?" she asks incredulously. She looks at Patrick. "When exactly did we have this discussion?"

"Oh, lighten up," he says breezily. "Look how happy they are."

"Inside!" Elizabeth calls, realizing her children are standing in the yard in bare feet.

"Let me hold him, Sam!" Kristy pleads, following Sam back inside. They all disappear back into the living room.

"How big is that thing going to get?" Elizabeth asks in a panic. "Why couldn't you get them a terrier or something?"

"Because this one was free," Patrick says, shrugging and opening the fridge. "Bill's dog had pups a few weeks ago, and I asked for one."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Elizabeth asks furiously. "Did you buy dog food? Did you check the fence for loose palings? Did you think about who has to train it and care for it?"

"The food is in the car," Patrick interrupts coolly. "And it's the kids' dog. They'll train it."

"Like hell they will!" Elizabeth snaps. "It'll be me! It's always me! Cooking pancakes for breakfast, on top of Christmas dinner, and wrapping damn presents at midnight and –-"

"Take your hormones outside!" Patrick snaps back at her. "It's Christmas. Lighten up, will you?"

For a moment Elizabeth wants to punch him. She clenches her fists by her side and turns back to the sink to finish washing up.

Patrick heads for the living room, and Elizabeth can hear her children chorus their thanks.

"This is the best present ever," Charlie says in awe. "Thanks, Dad."

1980

"We're going to have to move the stuff out of your office, soon," Elizabeth says to Patrick one morning. "The baby's going to need a bedroom."

"Kristy could always share," Patrick says pointedly. "The boys do."

"Will you grow up, please?" Elizabeth asks furiously. "I can't believe you're suggesting our daughter make the sacrifice for you."

Patrick turns back to his newspaper. Elizabeth glares at him, unnoticed.

Elizabeth goes into labour on a white morning in early March. She leaves a message with Patrick's office to have him meet her at the hospital, and asks Mimi to keep an eye out for her children when they come home from school.

"Patrick will come and get them," she says breathlessly. "Just make sure they stay in the yard. Ricky and Randy Jones will probably come over, but they'll behave themselves. They're supposed to walk the dog, but they can just play in the back yard. Get them to throw a ball for him..."

"We will be fine," Mimi assures her gently. "I will watch them."

"Patrick will come and get them," Elizabeth says again, and she doesn't miss the way it sounds hopeful, rather than reassuring.

Elizabeth sits up in her hospital bed, David Michael warm and quiet in her arms. She traces the small details of his face with light fingers, listening to the small shifts in his breathing and the little grunts and sighs he offers whenever she disturbs him. She carefully coaxes her little finger into his tiny fist and smiles as she feels the strength and closeness of him.

She looks up as she senses someone in the doorway, and can't help but feel apprehensive and angry as she sees Patrick slowly making his way towards her. He's holding a large bunch of red roses and for a moment she thinks about telling him off for spending so much money on something so frivolous.

"Sorry," he whispers, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

"Where were you?" she asks desperately. "I left you two messages this morning, and the staff here kept calling you..." Her voice cracks and she looks down at David Michael again, refusing to cry.

"Nowhere important." He looks guilty. He kisses her again. "So sorry," he whispers.

Her anger melts away as she watches her son sleeping. "It's okay," she answers quietly. It's not, really, but deep down she still has too much happiness to feel any true anger towards Patrick.

"Is he okay? Are you okay?" Patrick sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at David Michael.

"We're fine." Elizabeth suddenly feels teary. "I wanted you here..."

He leans over and kisses her and he looks so wretched she cries for him, rather than herself.

"I'm really sorry, sweetheart," he whispers. He looks down at David Michael and gently strokes his son's cheek with his thumb. "So we've got another boy, huh?"

She smiles and wipes at her eyes, still cradling David Michael carefully. "Kristy will be disappointed."

Patrick laughs and shakes his head. "She'll deal with it."

Elizabeth looks down at her son. "David Michael," she says. She looks up at Patrick to see his reaction, but there doesn't appear to be one. He never expressed much interest in what to name their fourth child. It had grown a fear inside her that seems like an ache, now. She desperately wants to prove to herself, and to David Michael, that Patrick is pleased.

"Take him," Elizabeth says softly, passing David Michael over into his father's arms. She watches the way Patrick cradles him carefully and she reaches for tissues as her emotions spill over and cause her to start crying again. Relief overwhelms her as Patrick smiles.

"You forget how small they are," he says after a moment. "Charlie was this tiny, once."

Elizabeth leans back into her pillows tiredly. "I wanted you here," she says.

He looks up at her and leans over to kiss her again. "I'm sorry, Liz. Really. I know I can't make it up to you." He looks at her despairingly. "Everything worked out okay though, right?"

She wants to tell him how scared she is. Between all the events of the day, the distance between herself and Patrick seems wider than ever. She's not sure how those silences and spaces have managed to grow so large.

She says nothing. Instead, she reaches for his hand, and he takes it carefully and gives her a small, meek smile, still apologetic.

David Michael is an easy baby. He gives his first smile to his father, and when he starts gurgling and laughing, his siblings chatter words at him endlessly, hoping to be the first to prompt David Michael's first words.

Still, Patrick's temper seems to flare more and more often. "Does he ever stop crying?" he asks one night, his hands over his eyes.

Elizabeth drags herself from bed again and goes to soothe their son. She wishes Patrick would stop complaining. She wishes he'd take the time to look down at David Michael's face as he sleeps. She wishes he'd take the time to hold him and bathe him and feed him and play games with him.

She's sure things would be better with just a little effort, but she's too exhausted to put everything in motion by herself. She shuts the door to David Michael's tiny bedroom and sits there with him, feeling tired and alone.

"Where's Dad?" Charlie asks through a mouthful of spaghetti.

"At work," Elizabeth replies automatically, holding a spoonful of mashed potato towards David Michael. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Charlie."

Kristy slurps a strand of sauce-coated pasta into her mouth. "Can you help with my homework, Mom?" she asks. "I have to write a story."

"What about?" Charlie asks.

"Anything I want," Kristy answers proudly. "Want to help?"

"No," Charlie snickers. "I have math to do."

Kristy scowls at him. "So do I!"

"Please stop fighting about who has the most grown-up homework," Elizabeth says tiredly, refilling Sam's glass as he holds it towards her. She glances at the clock.

Patrick is late again.

Elizabeth spends a sleepless night in an empty bed, her anger turning to worry as Patrick's lateness turns into complete absence.

"Here," she says, thrusting Kristy's school lunch towards her. "Janine's waiting outside; hurry up."

"I can't find my other shoe," Kristy says, pointing to her feet.

"It's under the couch."

Kristy disappears and Elizabeth glances around the kitchen, checking for any homework or lunches left behind. She has a headache.

"Got it," Kristy says cheerfully, shoving her lunch into her bag. "Bye, Mom."

"See you later," Elizabeth answers, kissing the top of Kristy's head. "Be good."

Kristy runs towards Claudia and Mary Anne, who are both standing several feet away from Janine, as though trying to pretend they are walking separately.

Elizabeth immediately crosses to the phone and picks up the receiver. Worry is a heavy knot in her stomach.

Patrick's desk phone rings and rings, and is finally answered by his boss, Bill.

"It's Elizabeth Thomas," she says. "I know it's early, but is Patrick there?"

"Is he coming back to fetch his things?" Bill asks. "They're in a box in my office."

Elizabeth pauses, confused. "What?" she asks. "Patrick didn't come home last night. I thought..." She trails off. She doesn't know what she thought. She doesn't know where he is. She doesn't know why he didn't come home.

The knot in her stomach unravels into butterflies. Her first thought is that Patrick has been in some sort of horrific accident. Then she realizes she would surely have learned of this by now, and he's missing because he simply chose not to return home.

The truth hits her hard in the chest and she leans against the wall, her hand over her mouth as she tries to control her panic. He's not coming home.

Bill starts breathing heavily as he realizes he's somehow involved in a significant, awful moment. His words start running together as he hastens to explain. "He quit," he says breathlessly. "He put his notice in and said he was heading west and yesterday was his last day. I figured you were all moving out there together; he never told me you weren't going..." He trails off and Elizabeth can hear him panting as he realizes what's happened. "I'm sorry," he blurts. "I didn't know he was leaving like that."

"No," Elizabeth says softly. "Of course you didn't."

She hadn't known, either.

Elizabeth sits at her kitchen table with the box of Patrick's office things in front of her. Bill had handed them to her with stammered apologies. Everyone in the office had given her furtive glances, and whispers had followed her.

Bill is the head of the local newspaper, and Elizabeth knows gossip is sure to spread.

She picks up the photo of Charlie, Sam and Kristy. It was taken a few days after Kristy's birth. The boys have wide smiles on their faces. Kristy is crying.

She drops the photo back into the box, on top of newspaper clippings and an old baseball trophy Patrick had kept on his desk.

She looks around the kitchen and she realizes that one of the things she's most upset about is that he never paused to give her a proper kiss goodbye. She can't even remember if he stopped to kiss her cheek on his way out. She can't remember what he said to his children, or what he said to her, as he walked through the door knowing he wasn't coming back.

She feels sick.

Part of her wants to tell her children before the gossip spreads so far they hear it from someone else. But another part of her –- the stronger part, the part that wants to hold them close and protect them from everything hurtful –- demands that she wait, just in case Patrick comes home.

When Sam asks where his father is, Elizabeth tells them all he's away on business. It isn't the first time they've heard something like this. Patrick would often miss weekends at home while he covered various sporting events around the state.

Elizabeth spots Charlie watching her closely, and she defends herself and hides her fear by snapping at him and telling him to eat his vegetables.

"Dad doesn't make us eat vegetables," Sam mutters, poking at his pumpkin.

Elizabeth stares down at her plate, the sick feeling in her stomach still swirling around. Somehow, even when he's not there, Patrick manages to make her look like the enemy.

Elizabeth sits gently on the edge of Charlie's bed. Opposite, in the bed beneath the window, Sam breathes peacefully, one arm thrown back over his head.

After a moment, Elizabeth reaches over and combs Charlie's hair gently back from his forehead.

He looks like Patrick. He has the same frown, and the same nose, and the same blue eyes. She watches him sleeping and her heart breaks as she realizes that if Patrick doesn't come home, their ten-year-old son will be taking on the responsibilities his father so often fobbed off.

She feels, suddenly, that she has failed her children. That she has contributed to the loss of things like after-school baseball games and easy afternoons because they'll have to come home and be safe and look after one another. She wishes she had done things differently, though she's not sure whether or not that would have helped.

She hopes Patrick is miserable, wherever he is.

"Let me take David Michael for the day," Maxine says soothingly. "It'll give you a chance to think."

"Okay," Elizabeth says listlessly. She's sitting at the table again, Patrick's office things in front of her. She gives a slight shudder. "Do you know," she says, sounding slightly ashamed, "that I'd forgive him for everything if he came home now?" She looks up at Maxine with watering eyes. "I hate him. I hate him, but I want him to come home."

"I know," Maxine says soothingly. "It'll be all right, Liz. It'll be just fine." She picks David Michael up and smiles at him. "I'll bring him back later, all right? Don't worry about a thing."

Elizabeth lifts her head. "Maxine?"

Maxine looks back at her with a kindly smile. "What is it?"

"How did you find out?" Elizabeth whispers. "Who knows?"

Maxine's smile falters. "A lot of people know," she admits, laying a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "You know what it's like. Gossip spreads fast in a small town."

Elizabeth folds her arms on the table and rests her forehead down, blinking back tears. Maxine pats her shoulder again and leaves, David Michael babbling cheerily in her arms.

Elizabeth curls on the couch, swamped in jeans and one of Patrick's shirts. He nose is stuffed and her eyes are tired and red.

She's dozing when there's a knock on the door. She jumps, and her heart starts racing. For a moment she thinks it's Patrick, and then she realizes what a stupid thought that is. She sits on the edge of the couch, breathing heavily, too nervous and ashamed to answer the door.

Maxine's words ring in her ears. Gossip spreads fast in a small town.

Elizabeth has no intention of entertaining pseudo-sympathetic gossipers.

There's another knock, and then a voice calls out. "Edie, it's me."

Her heart slows to its normal rate, and relief and gratitude overtake the worry and shame. She throws the door open and lets Richard in.

"Oh, dear," he says, taking in her dishevelled state. He's still in the suit he wears to work, and Elizabeth suspects he's made a special effort to end his day so early, just to see her.

"He didn't even say goodbye," she croaks, and she starts to cry again. "What am I going to do?" She sobs into his shoulder, and he somehow manages to avoid the stiff discomfort he so often displays when she gets too close to him.

He steers her gently towards the couch and sits beside her.

She huddles over, sobbing into her hands. "Everyone knows," she moans. "Everyone knows because it was so obvious we were in such trouble and we were so unhappy."

"Nobody thinks that," Richard says gently.

"They're all going to wonder what I did to drive him away," she sobs.

"Nobody will think that at all," Richard says, and he sounds surprisingly stern. He takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Edie," he says, "when Alma died, you were the only one who never said it would be all right. Everyone else came to me and said it'd be all right; that things would work out and get better." He sighs, and watches her with a small smile. "I always loved you for not saying it," he says.

She wipes her eyes and looks at him, not sure how to respond. Richard never speaks of Alma, and he never speaks with such truthful abandon.

She knows that there is no better person for her to turn to.

"I fell asleep hugging his pillow," she whispers suddenly, looking up at him.

"I know," Richard says sorrowfully, and she knows he knows, because there were times when his bed was suddenly empty too, and the smell of shampoo and warm skin on the bedding was the only real thing to cling to.

She looks up at him. "So maybe it won't be okay," she croaks. "What happens next, though?"

"You said it wouldn't be easy," Richard says gently, "but we would get through it. Do you remember that?"

"Vaguely," she admits huskily. She gives him a small smile. "Was I right?"

"Of course you were," Richard answers. He smiles back at her. "If anyone can do this, you can. I'm sure of it."

Elizabeth gathers her children in the living room. She knows they're suspicious and worried.

She tries to explain things as gently as she can. She doesn't want to heap blame against Patrick, in case he calls. She wants him to call and talk to them, and she wants them all to get along. But it's difficult to explain everything without sounding resentful. Patrick has left nothing for Elizabeth to list in his favor.

She looks around at her children worriedly as she finishes explaining that he will not be coming back home.

Charlie stares at the floor with a slight frown on his face.

Kristy looks pale and upset. "Did I do something wrong?" she asks in a small voice.

"Oh, of course not," Elizabeth says, reaching for her. "Nobody did anything wrong. This is just something your dad decided to do." She hugs Kristy tightly. "We'll be okay," she says confidently. "I'm going to get a job, and we'll all be okay."

Sam leaps up, and his face is blotchy and red. "This is your fault!" he shouts at Elizabeth. "You were always yelling at him!" He turns and flees upstairs, and Elizabeth watches him go, too surprised and frightened and ashamed to try and placate him.

Charlie drags his toe across the carpet. "It isn't your fault, Mom," he mutters. The tips of his ears have gone red, and Elizabeth knows he's trying very hard not to cry.

Elizabeth kisses the top of Kristy's head and reaches for Charlie, brushing his shoulder with her fingertips. David Michael is asleep in the crook of her other arm, too tired to wake, even with Sam's outburst.

"We'll be okay," she promises. "This is going to be really hard, and I need all of you to be on your best behavior. But I promise you, we'll be okay."

Charlie gives her a watery smile, but turns and trudges upstairs after Sam.

Kristy gives a soft sniffle into Elizabeth's side. "I'll be good," she says. "I promise."

"I know, sweetie." Elizabeth kisses her again and glances at the clock. "Come and help me put David Michael to bed. It's past his bedtime."

Kristy follows her obediently.

Charlie and Sam are talking in low voices, but Elizabeth decides to give them time. She passes their bedroom quietly.

Kristy helps tuck the blankets around David Michael. She peers down at him. "Will David Michael remember Dad?" she asks.

"I'm not sure," Elizabeth answers, knowing very well the answer is a resounding No.

Kristy rubs her eyes.

"Go to bed," Elizabeth whispers. "I'll be with you in a few minutes, okay?"

Kristy trudges to her bedroom.

Elizabeth checks on the boys. Charlie has slid into bed. He rolls over miserably and Elizabeth leans over him and kisses him goodnight –- something he has been against for several years now.

"No school tomorrow, okay?" she says.

He nods tiredly.

Elizabeth crosses the room to Sam's bed. He looks up at her tearfully.

"I didn't mean to yell," he says.

"I know," she answers gently. She kisses him and pulls the sheets up to his thin shoulders. "It'll be okay," she whispers. "It'll be hard, but we'll be all right."

Sam hugs his pillow.

"Night, Toucan Sam," she whispers, stroking his hair away from his forehead.

He mumbles goodnight and she kisses him again and turns out the light.

Kristy is sitting up in bed, waiting for her. "I really didn't do it, did I, Mom?" she asks timidly. "Sometimes I can be too loud and Dad used to get mad..."

"It isn't your fault, I promise," Elizabeth says desperately, sitting beside her daughter. She hugs her tightly. "No school tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Kristy croaks. She rubs her eyes, trying desperately not to cry.

Elizabeth catches sight of Mary Anne crawling into bed in the room opposite. Richard sinks into the chair beside her bed and Mary Anne eagerly hands him a book before she tugs the blankets up to her chin.

Elizabeth kisses the top of Kristy's head. "I'll just have to fill in for Dad sometimes," she says after a moment. "I guess you and I had better start teaming up against Charlie and Sam in baseball, huh?"

Kristy looks up at her with wide, bright eyes. "Really?" she breathes. "Girls against boys?"

Elizabeth kisses her forehead. "You bet."

Kristy wriggles down into her bed, looking excited. "Okay."

Elizabeth smiles and tucks the sheets around her. "Goodnight, Kristy."

Elizabeth sits in the middle of her bed, too drained to cry. She looks at the wedding photo on her dresser. She realizes how young she and Patrick are in that photograph, and how far they still had to go before they really found out who they were. She thinks about how far they traveled together before they started growing apart, and how wide the distance between them grew.

She stretches out on the bed and closes her eyes, breathing deeply. She's not sure if she'll ever get it confirmed, but she's certain Patrick has headed to California, and it hurts her when she realizes he's gone as far as he possibly can to get away from her. She wonders why he didn't ask her to go with him, but maybe there are too many reasons and she shouldn't start delving into them. It would be so easy to fall apart and break under the weight of self-doubt.

She can remember silly New Year's resolutions, when he promised to take her, and she can't help but feel such hatred for him as she realises he abandoned her and their children for an entirely selfish desire.

One day I'll take you to California. Beaches, cocktails and sun.

And she had laughed. One day when we're millionaires, right?