Rating/Pairing: PG, Leo/Ainsley
Disclaimer: The West Wing is not mine, nor ever will be mine.
Spoilers: Limited spoilers for Bartlet for America and general season two. Also refers to Of Cookies and Children's Choirs from my Stolen Moments series
Summary: Ainsley goes home for Christmas
Archive:On my site, The Band Gazebo Anywhere else, ask first
Feedback: Yes please!
Author's Notes: Dated December 22nd: This is a response to the challenge on the West Wing Women List, which called for one of the women to go home for the holidays and have a tradition or custom make them think of a colleague who wasn't with them. It's also part of the Eye of the Storm series, which is a follow up to Stolen Moments - you know, the thing I said I'd never write? Now, this is a story with a backstory, in that it's set up to be around 10th in the series, but I haven't written the previous installments, nor have I seen any of season three, including Bartlet for America which this story is set after. Confused? Oh, you will be. Huge thanks must go to bluejeans (blessed be bluejeans is my new mantra) who gave this the once over having seen BFA and told me that I had a small problem, a medium problem and a honking great problem (well, that's what I've called it). Between us, we worked out the first two; the third, we danced around...Michael Flatley ain't got nothing on us, I'm telling you. So if it looks like I'm wiggling in places, it's because I am. I reserve the right to re-edit and post this in the summer once the prequels are written, and Lord knows where I'm going to go after this...probably AU, for obvious reasons. But I think it's not that disastrous as regards continuity….if you disagree, send feedback - I'd be delighted to hear it!

I barely get the front door closed behind me before the sound of running footsteps echoes down the hall, and three small rambunctious individuals hurl themselves at my legs. It's lucky I was expecting it, because once upon a time, I would have been literally knocked over and be picking myself up off the floor right about now. This is a regular occurrence when I visit my sister. See, my niece and my two nephews aren't usually quite this bad, but when you take into account the fact that it's Christmas Eve afternoon, and their excitement is reaching fever pitch, well, you have to expect these things.

Not that I'm complaining mind you. After the day and night that I had yesterday, being engulfed by waves of unconditional love and simple joy is enough to bring a lump to my throat, and I have to swallow hard to keep it back. I've lived with craziness for most of the last year, so much so that I'd forgotten what normal family life feels like.

I'm not actually at my sister's house this Christmas, both of us having come home to Raleigh for the holidays. I wasn't going to come but Daddy pulled rank, insisting that we were going to have a family Christmas since we didn't have one last year. The second he pulled that one out, I knew that I was going to have to give in. Last year, Daddy went to Charleston, to Natasha's house, but I didn't. It's not that I don't love my father you see, or even that I have a problem with my sister. And her kids are great. It's her husband that I can't stand.

David's an attorney for one of the biggest law firms in Charleston, of which I can never remember the name. He's ten years older than Natasha, which Daddy wasn't too crazy about at first, but us Hayes women are notoriously stubborn. That's not why I don't like him though. Age difference, for obvious reasons, isn't something that I can find fault with. What I can find fault with though, is the fact that he's a slimy creep, who on more than one occasion has put the moves on me, his own sister-in-law. I've mentioned to Nat once or twice that he can get a little over-familiar, but she tells me that I’m imagining things or that he's just being friendly.

I love my sister, but you can never underestimate the power of denial.

I've also been getting some hassle from David over my choice of job. Not that anyone in the family was too happy with me getting a job in a Democratic White House. But Daddy told me that he was proud of me, achieving my dream, and he told me to go for it, and give everyone hell. Nat makes fun of me, wanting to know if I've burned my Republican membership card and have started dating Democrats yet. But David's teasing, which is what he purports it to be, has a distinct edge to it, and I should know, having heard similar comments from Republicans and Democrats alike. I didn't want to deal with that last Christmas, so I decided to stay in D.C. and have dinner with friends of mine there. Daddy wasn't happy about it, but he didn't say anything at the time. This year, as I say, he put his foot down. Nat and I were talking about it, and she thinks that he might have someone to introduce to us, which is fine by me. There have been women in and out of his life since Momma died, not that we met many of them, especially not when we were younger. But there's never been anyone serious. And what with me in D.C. and Nat in Charleston, I hate the thought of him in this big old house alone.

So that's what brings me here today. I got an early flight out of Washington this morning, and got a taxi back to the house, and when I unbury myself from the pile of kids surrounding me, I get a hug from Daddy, and discover that David's made himself useful and gone out to the taxi to get my bags. Then it's Nat's turn for hugs, and the two of them usher me into the living room, wanting to know if I had a good flight, what's been going on with me, how things are in Washington. In between, the kids want to tell me again what Santa's going to bring them, and all about school and sports and friends and I do my best to listen to the two of them as well.

Just in case we're not clear on matters here, I love my niece and nephews. And they tell me all the time that I'm their favourite aunt, which is nice to hear. They also plagued me during their summer vacation to let them come and stay with me in D.C, which I've blocked them on so far, and I know that I'll have to do the same for the next week. Scott is the eldest of the three at nine, and he's a miniature version of his Dad, except for without the sliminess. Jason and Alexandra, Alex for short, are twins and they're seven, with the blonde hair and big eyes that mark them as Hayeses. All three are, like every other child in the United States, caught up in the grip of Harry Potter fever, so on instructions from Nat, I've brought several nicely wrapped Harry Potter goodies, which may or may not survive the Christmas season.

It's during the course of this conversation that Nat makes some kind of comment about how she can't understand why I left it so late to come home. After all she tells me, they came over on Friday night, the moment the kids got out of school. She doesn't see why I couldn't have come the same day and we could have got an early start on a family Christmas. I affect some kind of smile and remind her that things are a little busy for me, for all of us, at work right now, and that it's not that easy to take time off.

Which is part of the reason, but only part.

The fact of the matter is, I didn't want to come home for Christmas at all this year. I wanted to stay in Washington. I wanted to stay in Washington with Leo. When people started talking about plans for Christmas, I even daydreamed about what we'd do with the day together. Even allowing for the fact that he'd have to spend some of the day with Mallory and the First Family, I was sure that we'd be able to do something together for Christmas. And then Daddy told me that he wanted me to come home. And Leo got called to testify yesterday.

That ended up in a little bit of a disagreement for us. Because when I heard that, I wanted to stay in Washington to be with him. I wanted to support him when he was going through that, even if I couldn't do it publicly. I wanted to be there for him. Of course, I know that he has Mallory and the entire White House Senior Staff, but they don't know him like I know him. They don't love him like I love him. Leo didn't exactly see it like that. Once he heard when he was testifying, he was of the opinion that I should absolutely go home for Christmas, and the sooner the better. He wanted me to be gone during his testimony, didn't want me to be caught up in it, didn't want me to worry about him, didn't want me to have to deal with him during it. Like I was going to worry less because I couldn't see him? Like I was going to be able to relax in Raleigh, surrounded by my Republican family, watching on television as my secret Democratic lover was torn apart by a Congressional hearing?

We finally ended up compromising. I'd stay for the hearing on the 23rd, spend that night with him, but would fly back to Raleigh early on Christmas Eve.

I had it all planned out…a nice simple night in, home cooked dinner (killing two birds with one stone; I knew he wouldn't eat much all day, and preparing the meal would keep me busy, keep my nerves at bay during the day), cuddling up on the couch afterwards in front of It's A Wonderful Life, exchanging presents from under the Christmas tree.

I should know by now that Leo and I can never plan anything.

I knew, I knew when I heard that he was going to be called to testify that our nice Christmas together was a rapidly vanishing dream. And when I sat in my apartment yesterday and looked at his testimony, heard what was being said, I knew he was going to need my help. I knew he was going to need me. Which is why I made a run to his neighbourhood, to our regular meeting place, and bought myself some cakes, because I knew we were going to be in need of some comfort food. Our regular waitress was there, and she took one look at me and was moving over to the cake stands, takeout boxes and knife in hand, and she gave me a sympathetic smile as I handed her the money.

I've had my suspicions for a while that she knows who I am, who we both are, but they were confirmed tonight with that little smile. And I remember thinking on my way back home that it was a good job that she seemed to like us, because if news of Leo and me got out, it'd be just another thing for the hearing committee to hit him with.

I couldn't stand it if they used me to hurt him. After all, they'd done a thorough enough job on him; I could see that from his face as he left the chamber. And when his driver dropped him off at my apartment, when he came in, I've never seen him look so defeated, so lost. Last Christmas, with Josh, when I talked to him in his office, he looked tired. When he came to me and told me about the President's MS, told me what Babish had said, that was worse. And when he told me about Mrs Landingham, when we cried in each other's arms, I thought that was as bad as it got.

That was, until last night.

Leo is not a man given to big displays of emotion. He bottles things up, doesn't speak about his feelings, only every now and then letting something slip that shows the inner workings of his heart. However, he can say more with one look than most men can say with a hour of oratory, and his face when he let himself in to my hall last night was worth ten Toby Ziegler masterpieces. I don't even consciously remember going to him; all I remember is one moment being across the room from him, the next being wrapped in his arms as if I was the only thing keeping him upright. I felt him shaking, and thought it was just from cold, or tiredness, or frustration, but then I felt wetness on my shoulder, and I knew that he was crying. I'd only seen him cry once before, when he told me about Mrs Landingham, but that was nothing compared to this. There was no sound from him, no sobs came from his throat, but he was very quietly going to pieces in my arms, and all I could do was manoeuvre him to the couch, where I held him tightly to me, all the while whispering to him that it was going to be ok, that it was ok, that I was there and that he could cry, that he could let himself go in my arms.

And when he calmed himself down, he told me everything that he'd remembered during the hearing. Things I'd never known about him, and I could see the fear there, the worry that it would change my opinion of him.

As if it ever could.

My home-cooked meal was more or less forgotten, but the cake wasn't, and we did spend the night curled up on my couch, sometimes talking and sometimes not. It's A Wonderful Life is going to have to wait until next Christmas however, but that's ok. We did also manage to open our Christmas gifts to each other, which had been living under my tree for the past week. I gave him a pair of gold cufflinks, engraved with the date on them, something that he can wear, but that no-one else will find out of the ordinary, thereby preserving the secrecy of our relationship. And we must have been thinking along the same lines because he gave me a beautiful bracelet, gold oval links with bars through them, and emeralds set inside the bars. I brought it with me; in fact I'm wearing it now. I just hope that Nat doesn't notice it, because I'm not sure how I'd explain it away.

I'm also hoping that she doesn't ask too many questions about my love life, because I hate lying to her. Aside from the fact that I'm really bad at it, she can read me like a book. I want to tell her that I'm seeing someone, but I know that I can't. If it's imperative that we keep it a secret in D.C, it's even more important when it comes to my family. Leo did actually wonder if I was going to come clean about our relationship over the vacation. Sure I was, I told him. Because for Christmas, I thought I'd give my father a heart attack. He looked chastened at that. Good point was all he said to me, and I could tell he regretted bringing it up, just as I regretted speaking so sharply. The fact that we have to keep our relationship a secret from everyone is a thorn in both our sides, but what else can we do? The Republicans who are investigating the Bartlet Administration are out for blood, and to discover that the White House Chief of Staff is involved - and I insist on using that word, because I refuse to consider the kind of terminology which they would apply - with a woman who is young enough to be his daughter, and who works in the White House would make their jobs that much easier. To say nothing of how it would play out in the Press. He'd be crucified more than he already is being, and I'd be cast as some sort of bimbo who slept with the boss to get a better office. Although I suppose I could refute that last part pretty easily.

But it's not easy. Natasha and I are about as close as sisters get, we've never had secrets from each other. We never fought like some sisters, just the opposite. We shared everything. I suppose what with growing up without a mother, we knew that we had to stick together. Not to take anything away from Gramma, she did her best. But there was a world of difference between our generations, and sometimes a girl needs her sister. Even when we were in college, we'd come home and spend hours at night gossiping, catching each other up on what had been going on. This in addition to letters and phone calls. She teases me about falling for a Democrat sometimes, what she'd do if I did that, and I want to tell her that not only am I seeing a Democrat, not only am I dating a Democrat, but that I'm in love with him. And I can't imagine my life without him.

I also can't imagine ever bringing him home to my family, which hurts me more than I can ever put into words, and more than I can ever let him know. He's been through more than enough hurt this year without me adding that to the mix. I just wish that I'd been able to stay in Washington. I wanted to, wanted to call off the whole trip this morning, and told him so. Cold, flu, ear infection…there were any number of reasons I could have used and I thought of them all. But Leo was absolutely immovable. He had long since made plans with Mallory for Christmas Day, and the Senior Staff were having their own little get-together on Christmas Eve, which he told me this morning he'd probably go along to. He probably wants to thank Josh for everything he did yesterday morning. "I'll be fine," he told me. "Go."

So I went, but I’m not happy about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be home, I'm happy to see my family. But I'm still worried about him. Yesterday was so hard for him…and I know he won't, I know he won't, but I'm so afraid that he's going to start drinking again. I've told him to call me on my cell-phone if he wants me, if he needs to talk, and he smiled and kissed me and told me that he would, and I told him that I'd ring him tonight. He just nodded at that, told me that he'd be waiting. They were the last words he said to me as I kissed him goodbye and he left my apartment. My taxi came minutes later, and if the driver wondered why I sobbed the whole way to the airport, he didn't say anything.

I want to be with Leo.

But I put on a brave face in front of my family and I listen to their stories and tell them some of mine, and I don't say a thing when David starts in on a rant about the President and his staff covering up his MS and how they should all be thrown in jail. It's hard, but I hold my tongue. I also give Alex a lesson on how to make Christmas cookies using Gramma's super secret recipe. It's one of my favourite Christmas traditions, recalling memories of a warm kitchen with Gramma, checking the progress of the cookies every five minutes and eating them, still warm, with ice-cold milk. I did this with Alex the last time that I was home, and I made the cookies last year myself, and gave them to various people around the White House. I get a lump in my throat when I think of Mrs Landingham and how her face lit up when she filled her cookie jar with them. I saw her in the mess later on in the New Year, and she told me that everyone raved about those cookies, and wanted to know where they could get some. She made me promise to make her some more this Christmas so that she could fill her cookie jar with them again. I'd give anything to be able to do that for her. And then we all sat down at the dining room table and dug into Nat's Hayes family dinner - read, food, food and plenty of it - so we all have that, and then we go to Midnight Mass.

Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve is a Hayes family tradition. We've lived in the same house, in the same town my entire life, and every Christmas Eve I've spent at home, we've gone to Midnight Mass in the same church. They hold Mass, and then the local choir sings Christmas songs. One of my earliest memories there is of Momma's last Christmas with us; in fact, it's one of the few memories that I do have of my mother. She was pretty sick then, she had to come to the church with us in a wheelchair, and there were lots of things that she couldn't do with us that Christmas that she normally would. But I remember looking at her as we were listening to the Christmas music after the Mass, and she had her eyes closed and she was smiling, and she looked so happy, and so peaceful, like there was nowhere else in the world that she'd rather be. I remember being so happy that she looked like that, because she looked better than I'd seen her look in so long, and I thought it meant that she was getting better. Three months later we were in the same church for her funeral.

Ever since then at Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, I always think of my mother. But this year, she's got some competition for my memories, because I can't help but think of last Christmas Eve. I went to Midnight Mass at the church near to my apartment, and I thought that I'd be going alone. As it turned out, I didn't.

I went with Leo.

Not that I'd planned to invite him along. But I'd gone to his office to give him a package of Christmas cookies, to thank him for being so nice to me when I started work at the White House. I didn't think he'd be there, but he'd just finished talking to Josh and Donna, and he was so worried about him, and he just looked so lonely, and before I knew what I was saying, I invited him along with me. I don't know who was more surprised when he said yes, but he followed me in his car and we walked to the church together. I remember how the path was icy, and I nearly skidded on one of the patches. He didn't even ask, just reached out and took my arm to steady me, and we walked like that the rest of the way. And it was unexpectedly nice, and I felt warm, even though it was so cold outside. Sitting side by side during Mass, I felt much the same way, but it was after the service was over that things got interesting.

There was a children's choir there, singing from Handel's Messiah. It's one of my favourite pieces of music and I was lost in it when he reached over and laid his hand over mine. A quick look told me that he was as lost in the music as I was, and more to see his reaction than anything else, I took my hand out from under his, and joined our hands properly, letting our linked fingers rest on the seat between us. And he looked surprised at first, then he smiled.

He didn't let my hand go the whole way back to his apartment, then he kissed me on the cheek and left.

That was probably the start of things, if we'd only known it then. And we had some ups and downs and some false starts, and it took a while before we became a proper couple. But it was worth the wait. I've never been happier, and I don't know what I'd do without him in my life.

And tonight, while I'm listening to the Christmas songs, I really wish that he was with me.

I refuse to get maudlin. I will not be sad on Christmas. Even when I was a teenager, I was never one of those annoying girls who mooned over their boyfriends and missed them when they weren't around, and I refuse to start such ridiculous behaviour at this stage of my life. I guess I'm lucky that Alex, who insisted on sitting beside me, slips her hand into mine, and gives me a broad grin that showcases her two missing front teeth. She's practically hopping up and down with excitement, and faced with that sight, how can I do anything else but smile back?

Following the songs, we go back home, and sit around the fire, eating more cookies and drinking eggnog. The kids sing Christmas songs, and Daddy finishes reading A Christmas Carol. David's been reading it to the kids every night since Thanksgiving, but it's Daddy's job to finish it off like he does every Christmas Eve. Then he reads A Visit from Saint Nicholas and we all get to open one present each. The boys love the Harry Potter computer gizmos that I got them, and Alex is just as happy with the set of dolls (or actions figures as Scott insists on calling them) that I got her. I open the present that she gave me, to find a lovely silk scarf, and wrapped up with it another cardboard package. When I open that, I see that it's a cardboard frame that she's made at school, and there's a picture of the two of us inside it. I give her a hug and promise her that it's going to take pride of place on my mantelpiece once I get back to D.C.

Then we tuck the three of them in and the adults retire to the living room, talking and swapping news until it's almost midnight and I'm the first to make my excuses. It's not that I'm unused to long hours, but I've been travelling for most of the day and I'm exhausted. It's when I'm unpacking my bag that I find it, a small, brightly wrapped package that I definitely didn't put in there. I smile to myself as the realisation that there's only one person who had access to this bag besides me, and flipping open the tiny card stuck to it confirms my thoughts. A Christmas surprise it reads, in familiar handwriting, and it's signed simply, love, Me.

I repeat to myself once more that I refuse to get maudlin. I will not cry at Christmas. Not even when I open the box and find a pair of emerald earrings, to go with the bracelet that he already gave me.

OK. Maybe there's a sniffle or two.

His cellphone is ringing in my ear before I even realise that I've found mine, and it takes a couple of rings for him to pick up. "Hey," is his response, and I can picture him smiling down the phone at me as he speaks. His voice is that low, husky tone that sends shivers down my spine, and I hug my pillow closer to me.

"You shouldn't have done this," I tell him, and I hear him chuckle. For a moment, I can almost believe that yesterday was a horrible dream, that none of it ever happened, and that everything is normal. His next words do nothing to disabuse me of the notion.

"I wanted to surprise you. You like them?"

I stare at the earrings, turning the box so that the stones catch the light. "They're beautiful Leo. But they're too much."

"Nah. They're not enough." He pauses for a second. "How's the family?"

"We're up to twenty Bartlet cracks, and I've got days to go," I tell him, a note of wry humour in my voice, and I hear him chuckle.

"Your brother-in-law hasn't hit on you yet?" he asks.

"Again, it's early in the vacation," I tell him. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home." I hear a sigh from the other end of the phone, quickly cut off, and any notions of normality fly out the window.

"Did you go to CJ's?" I ask him, hoping that the answer is yes. I can't stand the thought of him sitting in his apartment on his own on Christmas Eve, the thoughts of what might be going through his mind causing a cold hand to squeeze my insides.

"Nah." There's an odd pause that has me frowning before he continues. "I had dinner with Jordan."

It takes me a second to process who he means, and when I realise, I laugh awkwardly. "Don't you ever stop working?" I know Jordan Kendall by reputation, and if that didn't assure me that she was the best that money can buy, the knowledge of her hourly rate certainly would. It surprises me that she held a business meeting on Christmas Eve, but being as she was meeting with Leo McGarry, workaholic extraordinaire, I guess it really shouldn't. "It's Christmas Eve Leo," I continue to admonish him. "You know…holidays?"

"Yeah…well…."

He's being strangely quiet, almost evasive, and I feel a chill of fear begin to work its way up my spine. "Leo…did she say something to you? Something about the hearing?"

"No…nothing like that."

"Are you sure?" I couldn't hide the worry from my voice if I wanted to, and I don't want to. I'm mentally calculating the chances of getting a flight back to D.C. sometime in the next few hours, and if that fails, wondering how long it would take me to drive back.

"Ainsley, honestly, there's nothing." His voice is his Chief of Staff voice, and that tells me that he's lying to me. He's never remotely come close to using that tone of voice with me since we became involved, only when we had that massive row. But I know from that tone of voice that he's not going to tell me anything. Maybe if we were face to face I'd have some chance, but not over a phone line. So when he changes the subject, I'm not thrilled, but I let him. "What have you been up to?"

"Family dinner. Midnight Mass. The usual." Did that sound snippy? That could have sounded snippy.

"Kids like their presents?" He was there for the frantic phone calls, the lists of toys that I went through, not to mention the actual aftermath of the shopping trips.

"Loved them," I told him. "They're in bed now, all tucked up and waiting for Santa." The mention of bed triggers something in my body, because I can't stop a yawn from escaping, and that makes him laugh softly, almost sadly.

"Sounds like someone else should be there too."

"I was on my way. But then I found your surprise and had to call you…" My voice trails off. "I miss you." My voice gets very soft when I say that, and I'm surprised to feel tears in my eyes. I didn't think I'd miss him this much…want to be with him this much.

"I know." His voice is just as soft, and more shivers go up and down my spine. "Me too."

"I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah." I don't say anything else for a few seconds, but he doesn't hang up the phone. I finally speak. "Leo? I-"

"I know." His voice, still in that low tone, cuts me off. "Me too."

And I smile and hang up the phone and go to bed, doing my best to ignore the worry and the fear for him in my stomach, and failing utterly. Worst of all is the feeling that he's keeping something back from me, something that Jordan said to him at dinner tonight, something that he doesn't want me to worry about.

I really should tell him that that makes me worry more.

You would think that working in the White House, sharing a bed with Leo McGarry and being woken up at all hours of the night would mean that I have no problem waking up in the morning. Not so. Of course, I must point out that there's a world of difference between an alarm clocking ringing in your ear, and a lively seven-year-old jumping up and down on your bed yelling "Santa's here, Santa's here, wake up, it's Christmas!"

I stumble down the stairs to encounter a mass of wrapping paper where once there was a living room carpet, and the morning passes with me helping Nat to cook the dinner and helping the kids to put their toys together. And when the meal is finished, and we're all sitting around, I excuse myself to attend to one of my personal holiday traditions.

The streets are quiet as I drive, although I see a number of kids out and about on shining new bicycles, skateboards and scooters and smile at the sight, remembering Christmases past when I was one of those kids. When I reach my destination, I park the car and walk the path I know so well, to visit two of the women I love so well. They're buried side by side, and every time I'm home I make time to come and see them, and talk to them, tell them about what I've been doing this past year. Gramma got me into that habit when I came home from school in tears, because some girls in my school had been teasing me about not having a mother. She told me that I did have a mother, just that she wasn't here with me, but that that didn't mean that she didn't love me. And she took me to the florist, where we got a bouquet of flowers, and she brought me here and left me alone and told me that I could tell Momma anything I wanted, and that she'd be able to hear me.

When Gramma died, I did the same thing with her.

I start off with the small stuff, the same things that I told Daddy and Nat. But my thoughts soon turn to Leo, and I find myself telling Mom and Gramma all about him. "I guess you already know about it," I begin, and I find myself directing my comments first to Gramma. "And I know that you're probably not too happy about some of the things that I've been doing. But I wish you could meet him. You'd like him you know…he's smart and he's funny, and he takes real good care of me. And he makes me happy Gramma…he makes me feel safe. I haven't told Daddy yet, or Nat. I don't know how they'll take it. Or maybe I do…that's the problem. Because I know that they're not going to be happy about it. And I'm so scared that they're going to ask me to choose between them and him. And I don't know who I'd choose…because I don't want to lose either of them." I let out a deep breath, that being the first time that I've put that particular fear into words. "So if you can put in a good word with whoever's in charge of these things…"

A light rain begins to fall, so I cut my visit short and drive back home, where I find that we've got visitors, old friends of the family who have come around to catch up with me. I find myself dodging more questions on my work in the White House, and get asked the question that every single female my age dreads getting asked, the one about marriage and children. It was bad enough when I wasn't seeing anyone, but I've just discovered that it's worse to be seeing someone and not being able to answer the question honestly. We have supper with the visitors, and by the time they leave, the kids are falling asleep on the floor, and David is more than a little tipsy. I keep well away from him when we bring the kids upstairs and tuck them in.

When we're all back downstairs, Nat and I debating over whether to watch one of the movies on television or choose a video from the collection in the cabinet, Daddy asks us if he can talk to us. Nat gives me a significant look, and I return it, remembering our earlier suspicions about why Daddy called a Hayes family Christmas. He stands at the fireplace, his hand rubbing the mantel, and I've never seen him look quite so nervous. He stutters and starts and stops, and finally he blurts it out. "I've been seeing someone. For most of the last year."

David is sitting in the corner, not paying any attention, and Nat and I grin broadly at Daddy. "That's great Daddy," I tell him, but he doesn't look any more secure.

"I'd very much like for you to meet her," he continues. "To that end, I've booked a table at Caruso's for tomorrow evening." That tells me all I need to know about how serious things are between my father and this woman. Caruso's is one of the best restaurants in town, and the one that we usually go to for special occasions. We went there when Nat and David got engaged, again when we went out to celebrate the news of her first pregnancy. "I hope that I can count on the two of you to be there."

Maybe it's just me, but I've got the feeling that there's something that I'm missing here. While I try to work out what it is, Nat asks the obvious question. "So, who is this lady? Is it someone we know?"

Daddy pauses, clears his throat. "Yes. Actually, I believe you might be acquainted with her, yes. Her name is Clara Lawrence."

The name does sound familiar, and it takes a second for me to place it. And then I do and I realise why Daddy was so nervous. We've grown up around here our whole lives; a lot of families have. So even though we're technically a suburb of Raleigh, in a lot of ways, this place is like a village, with everyone knowing everyone else. Clara Lawrence has lived here for years, and if memory serves me right, she's an English teacher at the local high school. The local high school of which she is a past pupil. A past pupil from Nat's class.

Nat's gasp of mingled shock and horror assures me that she's made the same connection that I have, and Daddy swallows again, thereby reassuring us that we've made the right link.

"Clara Lawrence?" asks Nat, in a tone that I know means trouble. "Clara Lawrence who went to high school with me? Clara Lawrence who is young enough to be your daughter?"

Daddy flinches at both the tone and volume of her voice, but he stands his ground. "Yes. That Clara Lawrence."

His quiet response only serves to pour fuel on the fire of Nat's anger, and she loses her temper. I can't process more than half of what she's saying, but basically I think she's saying that it's disgusting, that the age difference is too great, that he should know better, that she doesn't understand what he's thinking and so on and so forth.

She's walking around restlessly, throwing her hands up to heaven, and I'm left sitting here, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. All this time, I've been worried about what Daddy would say if he knew that I was involved with a man old enough to be my father, and here he is in the exact same situation. "I guess these things run in the family," I think to myself, and I have to bite my tongue before it slips out accidentally.

The slamming of the door brings me back to myself, and I look around to see that Nat's gone, and David is standing there, looking from me to Daddy to the door, and for the first time in my life, I feel quite sorry for him. "I'm just…I should…" he stammers, and I nod.

"Go," I tell him, turning my attention to Daddy, who's sunk down into the chair by the fire, his head in his hands. When he looks up at me, there's a look of fear on his face. "Are you going to say the same thing to me?" I open my mouth, but he continues to speak. "I didn't mean it to happen you know. I was at Ned and Diana's house-" he names two of his closest friends. "-And they were having a party, for their wedding anniversary. And Clara was there, and we got to talking. And I didn't know how old she was. All I knew was that she was intelligent and funny, and someone I liked talking to. And before I knew it, I was asking her out to dinner. I never expected…. I never expected this." He sighs, and I find myself once again fighting back hysteria. Because let's face it, this is familiar territory for me.

"Do you love her?"

His head flies up at the question, and he has to blink a couple of times before he answers. "I think I might," he tells me slowly. "I think I could."

"And she makes you happy?"

He nods. "Not since Mom," he tells me, and I know what he's trying to say with those three words.

And I look at him, and it's my turn to nod. "OK then." I realise how much of that reaction is pure Leo, but there's no compulsion to laugh this time. "OK." He's still looking at me with terror on his face, but there's hope trying to break through.

"You mean…you're ok with this?"

I nod, going over to him and hugging him. He hugs me back tightly, and we're both smiling when I pull away. "Nat'll come around," I tell him.

"I hope so." He seems a little shocked that I'm taking this so well. "Are you sure-"

I nod, and that seems to reassure him. I consider briefly telling him about Leo and me, but something stops me, telling me that that might just be a bridge too far. Instead, I suggest watching a movie, and he goes to get the popcorn and that's how we spend the rest of Christmas night.

When I get to my room at long past midnight, I change quickly before reaching for my phone to call Leo. He answers on the first ring, which tells me that he's alone and that he was waiting for me. "Hey," he says. "Merry Christmas."

"And to you," I reply. "How was Mallory's?"

"It was nice…just the two of us. She's a good cook."

"Not as good as me, I bet," I tell him.

He laughs. I love his laugh. His laugh was one of the first things that attracted me to him, even before last Christmas. And I curl up on my bed now, hugging my pillow to me, and listen to him complain good-naturedly about his daughter's over-feeding him, turkey with a side order of concern, worry and questioning. I can almost picture the smile on his face when he's talking, but I can hear something in his voice, the same something that was there last night, the same something that he's not telling me about. But again, I don't call him on it. Instead, I let him ask me about my day, and I tell him all about Daddy and the news he had for us, and I can tell that he's just as surprised as I am about this, and we share a laugh over it, a real laugh this time, and we talk until I feel sleep begin to creep up on me. And I tell him that I love him before I hang up the phone with a smile on my face.

My last thought before I fall asleep is of how things have changed so much from last Christmas to this. It hasn't been an easy year what with me trying to fit in at the White House, Mrs Landingham, the MS announcements, the hearings…I could go on and on. And I know that there's more trouble awaiting us in D.C. when I go back there, and something tells me that it's going to make this past year seem like a walk in the park But while one might think that I'd be glad to see the back of the year 2001, there's something very important about it, something that makes it worth remembering.

It's the year that I fell in love with Leo.

And that makes everything else worth it.

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