The private waiting room was filled with a select few who were awaiting news on the President's surgery. His wife, his daughters, his best friend, and his mother. His staff was in and out, but they also had to help the Vice President in this time of upheaval.

Emily Bartlet looked at her daughter-in-law, who was curled up on the couch, a pillow drawn to her chest. She was just staring into space. She won't break down in front of me, Emily thought, she won't give me the satisfaction of seeing her weak. I am the one who made her this way with me. Had I welcomed her into the family with open arms she would have walked right into them. I have watched her with Josiah and the girls for so many years now. There is such love and warmth in her but I saw her as a rival, the woman who destroyed my dreams of the priesthood for Josiah. The woman who became more important in his heart than me.

I watched her become the kind of wife and mother I wish I'd been able to be. Abigail has never hidden her emotions, well, except for weakness, at least she has never shown me that. I know there is a hidden vulnerability to her, but I also know that only those really close to her have seen that. I am not close to her. We are so different, she and I. Abigail has never been shy about telling Josiah she loves him, even if it is in front of others, how he must relish that in his wife. God knows he never heard it from John or me. Their affection and intimacy has embarrassed me at times. But to be perfectly honest, some of that was envy at the closeness they share.

Even after ten years of marriage I would see them at the beach house in Maine, after the girls were tucked in, dancing in the moonlight to music only they could hear. Even now, after all these years, they still flirt with each other and get caught in embraces. My tongue has been sharp with them about this at times. One of the first real arguments I ever had with Abigail was sexual in nature.

John and I were visiting them in London for Elizabeth's christening. It had been a long day and I laid down in the bedroom to try to get rid of my migraine. My stomach became upset and I went over to Josiah and Abigail's bathroom to find something to settle it. I opened the medicine cabinet and there was the round package with the prescription for Abigail Bartlet. I may never have used them but I knew what they were. The Pill. My CATHOLIC daughter-in-law was on the Pill. I confronted her when she came to check on me. I still remember that argument as if it were yesterday.

"You are supposed to a good Catholic wife. You just sat in church having your daughter christened. Why are you on the Pill?"

"Emily, I love my faith but there are some things in the Church that Jed and I disagree with. Contraception is one of them. Elizabeth is only three months old. I'll be starting medical school when we move back to the States, I can't get pregnant again now."

"There are other methods," I said, embarrassed.

"Oh yes," Abbey said sarcastically. "The Rhythm method, Catholic birth control. They have a name for people who use that method."

"Really?"

"Yes. They are called parents." Oh, she has a smart mouth that one. "Emily, Jed and I want to have more children. Just not now."

"Well," I sniffed, "you could abstain." Abigail burst into laughter.

"Why don't you discuss that with your son and let me know what he has to say about that?"

"What I have to say about what?" Josiah asked entering the room.

"Your mother is angry we’re using birth control. She thinks we should abstain from sex."

"Holy mother of God," Jed groaned, rolling his eyes. "Don't you dare give her any ideas, Mother. She didn't throw them out, did she?"

"No pumpkin, they’re safe."

"Josiah," I crossed over my chest, disapproval clear on my face "You know it is against the Church."

"Oh, sorry to interrupt, Mother," Josiah said. “But I think I hear Elizabeth crying. I'll go get her." he hurried away and I heard Abigail mutter, "Coward," under her breath.

Evidently I was ignored and they continued their use. The way those two are, had they not, I might have had at least a dozen grandchildren.

When I look at my three granddaughters, I realize how lucky they are to have Abigail as a mother. I wish I could open my arms to my children the way Abigail does. I know they are all grown now but I so regret the way I was with them as children.

Josiah was such an earnest little boy. He was absolutely adorable, with his tousled fair hair and big blue eyes. My heart aches at how much he tried to please John and I. But, most of the time he couldn't please one of us without displeasing the other. He tried so hard, and yet we never told him it was enough. We never told him just how proud we were of him and how much we loved him. He had to wait until he was in college and had met Abigail before hearing those words. It still amazes me how easy it is for the two of them to say those three words that elude me,"I love you." How simple, and yet so hard.

I am not a stupid woman. I know one of my biggest problems with Abigail is jealousy. I had to struggle so hard to fit in to the Bartlet family. Truth be told I may have fallen in love with the idea of marrying into this old New England family as much, if not more, than I did falling in love with John Bartlet. I was the Boston Irish girl marrying into a family that came over on the Mayflower. I know John's family was against our marriage. But, for once in his life, he showed some spirit and defied them. Sometimes I think that is the only reason he married me. To defy his father. Old Josiah liked to run his family with an iron fist and marrying me had been John's one act of defiance.

John and I were not close like Josiah and Abigail, we got married for all the wrong reasons. But, I did try so hard to be the perfect Bartlet wife, to be the perfect headmaster's wife. The Academy always came first with John, before me and before his children. Josiah's intellect comes from John, but, he is not the cool emotionally detached man his father was. In fact, Josiah gets his charm, his talent in spinning a good yarn, his ability to electrify a crowd, and his vitality and passion for life from my side of the family. Those boisterous Irish relatives I tried to keep my children steered clear of. Josiah loved visiting my parents and his uncles but we didn't do it often. I tried to convince Josiah to take his passion for helping people and become a priest. But, Abigail entered the picture, and it became apparent that although he was a devoted Catholic, the priesthood was not for him. Politics was in his blood, even a stint as an economics professor could not dilute that.

Funny, Abigail never had trouble fitting in. I don't think that woman has ever felt inferior to anyone. She is just as comfortable in scrubs saving peoples lives as she is in glittering ballgowns hostessing state dinners, or in jeans mucking out the stalls at home, playing farmer Jed's wife as she calls it. I think this comes from being comfortable in your own skin. Abigail is, Josiah is, I am not.

Abigail was able to bring John out of his shell and make him laugh, which was something very few people could do. Even Josiah was uncomfortable around his father, Abigail never was. It was me that caused her discomfort.

And Old Josiah. That crotchety old man who terrified me loved Abigail. She actually had the nerve to refer to him as OJ. They teased each other mercilessly. I remember overhearing Old Josiah talking to his grandson, "You got yourself one hell of a spitfire there Jed. Hell, if I were forty years younger, I'd give you a run for your money and steal Abbey right out from under your nose".

"I believe you would Granddad," Josiah had laughed. The three of them could argue politics for hours, for while Josiah and Abigail were earnest Democrats, Old Josiah was a staunch Republican. They all seemed to enjoy the sparring and the intellectual challenge it imposed. In the end, his grandson was the only Democrat Old Josiah ever voted for. Even then it was done grudgingly, but I know how thrilled he was to have his grandson Governor of the state he loved so much. He didn't live to see him become President. When Abigail spoke at the funeral I realized she really had a genuine affection for the old man, she wasn't just trying to fit in.

I know Abigail has had some difficult moments, very difficult moments. But I am jealous at the ease she had in becoming a Bartlet. She didn't even try. Maybe that was my problem, maybe I tried too hard.

And so here we are, falling into a familiar pattern, sitting on opposite sides of the room when we should be comforting each other.

I am not a completely cold woman. I wanted to reach out to her once but I felt so guilty I couldn't. I know Josiah has never forgiven me for not comforting Abigail when they lost Peter. She needed a mother's comfort and I was not there for her.

They were visiting John and I with the girls. Abigail was around five months pregnant. She hadn't been feeling well so she went upstairs to our bedroom to lay down. I heard her scream out Josiah's name and then I saw him come running down the stairs, pale as a ghost, shouting for us to call an ambulance, that Abigail was losing the baby. While John called, I went back upstairs with Josiah. There was so much blood and Abigail was in so much pain. She was scared and pleading with Josiah not to let her lose the baby. Josiah was trying to comfort her and keep her calm but I could see how frightened he was.

Later, at the hospital, Josiah came out of Abigail's room, exhausted and in tears, to tell us that she had miscarried and that it had been a boy. He told me they had given her a sedative but that I could go in and sit with her while he talked to the girls. I never went in, I couldn't. I know Abigail thought I was angry with her for losing my grandson, that wasn't it at all. It was my guilt that kept me away.

When Josiah and Abigail told me they were pregnant again I was thrilled. For the first time in all Abigail's pregnancies I had prayed she would have a boy. It was the first time I had not just prayed for a healthy grandchild, I had asked God for a boy. Now I felt that God was punishing me for that. I left the hospital and went to confession. I returned to the hospital ready to ask Abigail for her forgiveness, but Josiah met me in the hall.

"How is Abigail?" I asked.

"The sedative took over. She’s asleep. Where have you been, Mother?" He asked coldly.

"I..well..I," I stammered.

"Never mind. I don't care. I know you and Abbey are not close but she needed you today. Couldn't you have just sat with her and held her hand? My God Mother, we just lost our son. I've always known you were a cold woman but I never realized you could be cruel." Until I die, I will never forget those words or the icy disdain in my son's blue eyes.

I look at Abigail now. She looks utterly wiped out. She is trying so hard to be strong for everyone. The dark smudges under her eyes attest to the fact that she has not slept in days. The truth of the matter is, she has become a shadow of her former vibrant self. I fear what will happen to her if Josiah doesn't pull through.

He has to pull through. I am sure that Abigail told Josiah she loved him before the surgery. I didn't, I wish I had. At least she won't have that hanging over her head the way I will if something happens. I should have told him I love him. He is my son, my baby. I never thought he could be taken from me this way. God, I thought, I believed in you with all my heart. How could you let my son be torn apart by bullets? You already took Eleanor. You can't be so cruel as to make me outlive another one of my children. I am so sorry. If you let Josiah live, I will tell him that I love him, I promise.

****

We are all quiet. So quiet. All lost in our private thoughts, private memories of Jed, Abbey thought, I can't afford to dwell on the past. If I do I will lose this tenuous control I have over myself. I try to stay focused on the future, planning Jed's rehabilitation because if I think of the alternatives, it will make me crazy. There is some commotion outside the door and then my mother and my sister Jane come in. My mother is back. Oh God, I feel myself tearing up, I am going to lose it. Oh please don't let me lose it in front of my daughters, in front of Emily. Oh Mama help me, I think, and then I am on my feet racing into her arms.

"Mama," I cry as I feel her arms encircle me. Suddenly I am ten years old again, begging my mother to make everything Ok. "I'm so glad you came back."

"Sssh...ssh baby," Mom is stroking my hair and it feels so good to just let it out. I have been wound up so tight trying to be the strong one. It is a relief to let go and let myself be comforted. "He'll be OK, sweetheart."

"You don't know that," I say angrily. "He could die or he could end up on life support. He has a living will. It will be up to me to tell them to pull the plug. I don't think I can handle this, Mama," my hands cover my eyes as I fight a losing battle with my fears and my tears.

"Abigail, don't think the worse."

"I could have lived with him in a wheelchair. At least he'd be alive. He is so damned stubborn. Why did he have to take this chance?"

"Because there is a chance for him to be whole again."

"And the rest of us be damned," I sniffed bitterly

"No, Abbey. Good Lord, that man loves you more than he loves his own life."

"Well, doesn't he know that is how I feel? I just want him alive and arguing with me or spouting off some stupid trivia, just being a jackass about something. None of this was supposed to happen, Mama. Just over 48 hours ago I kissed my husband good-bye and went to bed because I wasn't feeling well. When I was awakened a couple hours later with the news that he had been shot, my whole world was turned upside down. Here we are just over two days later and Jed is still fighting for his life. This is some damned NIGHTMARE!" I begin to cry again taking comfort from the only person, other than Jed, who can make me feel safe.

"Mom," Ellie says softly, and I turn to see the tear stained faces of my daughters. Oh God, I forgot they were here. These three magnificent girls Jed and I created. I see that they are scared now. They know they may lose their father.

"I'm sorry babies. I didn't mean to let go like that. I wish I could save him for you," I opened my arms and the three girls rushed in, wrapping me in a circle of arms.

"We're going to help you Mom" Zoey said. "Please let us help you."

"We're going to get through this. TOGETHER," Elizabeth said firmly.

I look over my daughters' shoulders and see my mother-in-law in the corner, rosary in hand. She looks so alone, while I am surrounded by love. I gently shrug out of my daughters' arms and take a step toward Emily. I open my arms, biting my bottom lip, as I await her reaction. Will she reject my overture? She looks at me for a long moment then gets to her feet. Slowly, very slowly, she makes her way to me and stops in front of me.

"I know how much you love him Abigail," she says simply. "I've always known. You are a wonderful wife and mother." And with those words she allowed herself to be comforted in my embrace for the first time since I met her.

***

This is so unfair, Elizabeth was thinking, my dad has never hurt anyone in his life. I can't believe somebody shot him. The fact that anyone would want to hurt my father is just beyond my capacity for belief. I just can't believe that he may be gone from my life. I am not ready to lose my father. It is not his time. It can't be. He has been such an overwhelming presence in my life that to have him gone,especially in this violent way, will be a void I could never fill.

This is a man who lived for his family. I think back on my first trip to Storyland. A trip I was to take many times as my sisters came along. I had been bursting with excitement to go for weeks. I must have been around 7 because Ellie was a baby.

I remember how big Daddy seemed leading me up the narrow staircase of the three bears house. How he sat on papa bear's bed, Mommy sat on Mama bear's bed with baby Ellie in her frontpack, and I sat on baby bear's bed, and Daddy recited the whole story of the Three Bears from memory. I liked it best when he did the voices. I liked the way Mommy would roll her eyes when he did a high pitched falsetto Mama bear. It made me giggle every time.

But, what I really remember, is the main reason I wanted to go to Storyland in the first place. The pumpkin coach ride to Cinderella's castle and meeting my heroine. I dutifully, and with enjoyment, visited Red Riding Hoods grandmothers house, fed the Three Little Pigs and the Billy Goats Gruff, and rode on Alice's teacups, but I was brimming with excitement when I saw the castle on the hill. But, as we got in line for the coach ride up, Ellie began to fuss. Mommy said she was hungry and she would have to find somewhere to feed her. Daddy must have seen how disappointed I was to have to wait while Ellie nursed so he told Mommy he would take me up himself and she could meet us up there. I remember bouncing from foot to foot, unable to stand still. Daddy's big hand held mine so I wouldn't race up ahead. Finally the pumpkin coach came. Daddy squeezed himself in and I sat on his lap peering out the window for the first glimpse of the castle.

When we got out and Cinderella was waiting there to greet us, I was suddenly stricken with shyness. While other kids moved forward to shake her hand and have their pictures taken, I held back. Daddy would have none of that. I remember how he took my hand and urged me forward.

"Hello Miss Cinderella," he said,"this is Elizabeth Bartlet. Elizabeth, this is Cinderella." I felt so grown up and important. Cinderella shook my hand and Daddy took my picture. My father has always had the ability to make me feel like the most important person in the world.

This is a man who took me deep sea fishing, and built sandcastles with me the summers we spent at the beach in Maine. The man who kneeled beside me while I said my prayers at night before bed. This is the man who taught me how to swim and how to drive. This is the man I entrusted to take care of my daughter when I could not.

Oh please God don't take my father away.

*****

Oh Daddy, please don't leave me, Ellie was thinking. I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I am I wasn't around more during the campaign. I just hate all that. All those people only wanting to shake my hand because I am Jed Bartlet's daughter. It's not like I did anything to accomplish that. I was simply born a Bartlet.

Even though I sometimes feel like the odd one out I know all I have to do is call and he would come running. That was never more apparent to me then when I got my first period. Mom was at the hospital on an emergency and Liz was sleeping at a friend's house. Daddy was downstairs cooking supper for us. I could hear his baritone voice singing with Zoey while he cooked. I went into the bathroom and saw the tell tale signs. I was mortified. Mom had explained it all to me a while back, both she and Liz were 13 when they started, so I wasn't shocked. But, I needed supplies. I certainly couldn't ask Daddy to get them. I waited in that bathroom for half an hour wondering if I would just wait here all night until Mom got home.

Daddy became impatient after calling me down to dinner three or four times and he came knocking on the bathroom door.

"Ellie, are you alright? You've been in there an awfully long time," he said.

"I'm OK, Dad," I responded. Oh God, I thought, this is not happening to me. Please let me crawl under the carpet and die.

"Well, are you coming down to dinner?"

"I...I can't," I stammered, about to burst into tears.

"Eleanor Bartlet, tell me what is wrong this instant," he said in that authoritative voice that brooked no nonsense. I opened the door a crack and peered out at him with tears in my eyes.

"I...I started my period." I was too embarrassed to look up at him. I couldn't believe I actually said it.

"Ellie," he said more gently now. "This is your first time, isn't it?"

"Yes," I whispered miserably

"Oh honey. “ He lifted my chin to look in my eyes. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. This is a natural part of life. When..."

"Daddy," I said, interrupting him, knowing he was ready to go on some rambling explanation of the female reproductive cycle. "Mom explained it all to me when I turned 10."

"Oh, well then. What is the problem?"

"I don't have any...I need the stuff."

"Oh...OH," he said, turning red. "Let me see what I can find." I watched him go into his and Mom's bathroom and saw him pull her boxes of tampons out then toss them back under the sink. He found what I needed in Elizabeth's room and handed me the box.

"Do you need any aspirin?" He cleared his throat, now clearly embarrassed. "Do you have a headache, or cramps?"

"No," I said, equally embarrassed. "I'm fine. I'll be down to dinner in a minute."

After dinner Daddy dropped Zoey off to be baby-sat by Mrs. Landingham and he took me out for an ice cream sundae. Mom had celebrated Liz becoming a woman in the same way, Daddy was keeping up the tradition. We didn't talk about it like I'm sure Mom and Liz had. We talked about school and about field hockey tryouts but it made me feel special just the same.

Later, not long after I went to bed, Mom came into my room and crawled into bed next to me. She began to stroke my hair.

"Daddy told me you started your period tonight," she said. "I'm really sorry I wasn't here, sweetie. Do you have any questions? Do you need anything?"

"No I'm OK, Mama. Daddy took care of me."

That's the way it has always been. Daddy has always taken care of me. This is the man who read me stories at bedtime, who cheered too loudly at my field hockey games, who helped me study for my SAT's. Even when I don't see him I know he is only a phone call away. What if I can't make that phone call again? What if he is gone?

Please God don't take my father away.

****

God, there was so much blood, Zoey was thinking. When the service pushed Daddy into the limo I knew something was terribly wrong right away. Daddy just fell against the seat like a limp rag. His eyes were open but there was blood coming out of his mouth. He was choking on it. He said my name and I told him I was OK. Then he said Mom's name twice and said he was cold before losing consciousness. I am not just the President's daughter, I am a doctor's daughter. My Daddy was cold. It meant he was dying. Ron was trying to stop the bleeding and I just started crying out "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" CJ was holding me tightly trying to comfort me and hold me back at the same time. She was crying too, I know she thought the same thing I did, that my Dad was dead.

He can't die, my Dad cannot die. He has always been there for me. I've always been his baby. My Dad makes me feel safe and protected. I am so scared I may lose that.

I have so many memories of my Dad. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to flashes of lightning and booming thunder. My heart would begin to pound as the terror filled me. I would grab my teddy bear, Mr. Fuzzy, and run down the hall to Mommy and Daddy's room. I would crawl up into their big bed. Mommy was usually sleeping curled up against Daddy using his chest as a pillow or Daddy would be laying wrapped around Mom from behind. In any case they always had to break apart to make room for me. There were sleepy murmurs as they asked who it was and what was wrong, and I would snuggle into the warmth of their bodies feeling my terror dissipate.

"It's OK Zoey," Daddy would whisper as he stroked my back. "You're safe sweetheart. Go to sleep."

Then, there were the summers when he would take us all camping in the National Parks. He isn't exaggerating when he says he has been to them all. Liz, Ellie, and I would share a tent as did Mom and Dad. We would all sit around the campfire late into the night, Mom would tell us scary ghost stories and then Dad would start in with the history of whatever park we were in. Sometimes it was interesting, most of the time it was boring and I would fall asleep. But it was so comforting just to hear his deep voice drone into the night. Then he would pick me up and tuck me into my sleeping bag. Some nights, after all three of us were tucked in, I would peer out and see Mom and Dad still sitting facing the fire. Mom would sit between Dad's legs, his arms were wrapped around her, his chin resting on the top of her head as they stared into the fire. A feeling of safety and contentment would fill me at the evidence of their togetherness. I am scared of losing this. I am scared that if I lose my father I will lose my mother too. It is hard to think of one without the other. They are both incredibly strong people but they both depend on each other so much.

My father is the man who held the reins while I learned how to ride my first pony. He is the man who carted me around to horse shows all over New England and held me in his arms in the ambulance when I fell at a show and broke my arm. He played tea party with me and fished with me in the pond at our farm. I need my Dad.

Please, God, don't take my father away.

~~~~~~~~~

The room has filled even more. Jed's brother Jon and his wife Sally are here. I feel sort of superfluous. I thought about staying back at the White House with Dad and Annie but something made me come here with Mom instead. It's not that Abbey and I are particularly close. We aren't alienated either, we are sisters. We will always be sisters, but we have very different, very busy lives. But, Abbey and Jed have always been there for me. It is important for me to be here for them.

Abbey was two years older than me and Mom used to say we were as different as night and day. As a little girl, Abbey was forever bringing home stray and injured animals to nurse back to health. I used to help her feed them and care for them. I remember one night she got up every two hours to feed an abandoned kitten with an eyedropper, she was only 9 years old. It is very appropriate she ended up on a farm. I thought she would become a vet, Dad used to say "Beth, this one is going to be a nurse," and Mom would say, "No Michael, that one is going to be a doctor." Guess Mom won that one.

I still remember Abbey's bedroom at our big old house in Salem, Massachusetts where we grew up. The house had belonged to one of the old whaling captains from the previous century and was huge. Dad was a doctor, a very important doctor in Boston, and we didn't want for anything. Abbey was a "girly" girl and her room reflected that. The wallpaper was pink roses, the curtains and her bedspread, white eyelet lace. And she had a large canopy bed. There were posters of Paul McCartney and Robert Redford on the walls. There was a shelf with her riding trophies and ribbons, and a bookshelf crammed with books. She has always been a brain. She and her friends were always giggling in that room, fussing over new hairstyles and make-up, and mooning over movie stars and the Beatles. To be fair, she did try to include me. She used to tell me, "Come on Janey, you'd be really pretty if you just let me curl your hair." But I wasn't interested.

I remember sitting on the edge of her bed watching her primp for her dates. Then, all these years later, I was at the White House for a state dinner and I watched her prepare in the same exact way. Only this time it was for one man, Jed Bartlet.

I remember that first weekend she brought him home with her to introduce to the family. There was a sparkle in her eye I had never seen before. I didn't need her to tell me he was 'the one'. It was written all over her face and it was in the way he looked at her.

A year later Abbey came to me with barely concealed excitement to tell me how Jed had gotten down on one knee and proposed to her at the Bartlet farm and how she had lost her virginity that afternoon. Her face was just glowing as she told me, "I'm so glad I waited Janey. It meant so much that it was Jed. I knew it would hurt but he was so sweet. He kept telling me how much he loved me and I knew it was true. He wasn't just saying it to get me into bed."

I was Abbey's maid of honor. I tried to convince her to let it be Millie, her best friend from college but Abbey was adamant. I was her sister, so I was maid of honor. Millie was a bridesmaid. God, how I hated that rose colored gown. Unlike Abbey, I HATE dresses. Abbey is the clotheshorse in our family, she always has been. Being First Lady has just given her an excuse to have famous designers at her beck and call. She is one of the few feminists I know who have not lost their femininity. She may be some big wig doctor but she also likes to look good, really good.

I can't help but compare Jed's reception into our family and my own partner Pat's welcome. It was almost non-existent. Abbey was the first person in the family I came out of the closet to. I was visiting the farm and Abbey had just put Ellie down for a nap, Jed was out walking the fields with his grandfather. Abbey handed me a cup of tea and sat down with a tired sigh, having a three year old and being a resident was exhausting for her.

"Abbey," I said, "I am going to be introducing you to the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"Oh Janey, that's wonderful. I didn't even know you were dating anyone seriously. Why haven't you ever spoken of him? What's his name? Did he get down on one knee? Where is your ring?"

"Stop...stop," I laughed.

"I can't help it. I'm excited."

"You may not be after you hear this. The person I am in love with, well, HER name is Pat. She is a woman." Abbey smiled faded replaced with a look of shock.

"A woman," she said softly. She just stared at me as if not able to comprehend this. "You're a...a...a"

"Lesbian," I grin. "You can say it Abbey."

"I...I don't know what to say, Jane. I'm shocked."

"Oh come on Abbey, you can't be too shocked. Didn't you ever wonder why I didn't drool like you over Paul Newman and Robert Redford or dream about marrying Paul McCartney like you and your friends? That I didn't care about my clothes or make up or perfume?"

"I guess I just thought you were eccentric."

"Abbey."

"Oh all right. I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind I may have wondered why. I just never expected...This" Abbey couldn’t help the revulsion in her tone.

"Is it that repulsive to you?"

"Janey, you have to give me some time to get used to the idea. I guess having drooled, as you so eloquently put it, over men since I was a teenager I have a hard time picturing an attraction to a woman. You really don't get turned on by men at all?" I saw her mind wander and I knew she was thinking about Jed. What I didn't know was that she was thinking about everything about him that turned her on. His hands, which could be so gentle, or have barely restrained strength, the way the blond hairs grew on his tanned forearms, the feeling of the muscles bunching and straining on his back and shoulders when he made love to her, the way the sandy hair on his chest tapered off on his belly to become a straight line disappearing into...

"Earth to Abbey," I say, and she comes out of her reverie.

"Sorry," she blushed.

"No, I can honestly say men do not turn me on but I can see what they do for you." We both laughed. "What I need to know is will you be able to accept me this way? Accept Pat?"

"Jane, you are my sister, I love you. I want you to be happy. If this Pat makes you happy, I’ll do everything I can to make her feel welcome. I’m not saying it won’t be awkward, but I promise to try."

"What about Jed?"

"You leave Jed to me."

I'll never know what was said in the conversation between Abbey and Jed. All I know is that the two of them provided a united front with me when I told Mom and Dad about Pat. From my parents I at first got anger, tears, and a complete lack of understanding but Abbey and Jed backed me up all the way. Pat and I were always welcome in their home.

I know that despite his stance on gay rights, Jed is not really comfortable with the gay lifestyle. But, he explained to me, that when he takes himself out of the equation and only thinks about individuals being able to love who they are in love with it makes it an issue worth fighting for. I think Pat and I helped to open both their minds a little wider.

Both Jed and Abbey were so helpful and loving when Pat was dying of breast cancer. When she went into the hospital for the final time, Abbey was on bed rest due to her difficult pregnancy with Zoey. Pat's family had disowned her and my parents were at a medical convention in Europe. I was sitting all alone outside Pat's room when I saw Jed coming down the hall, his coat draped over his arm.

"Hey Janey," he said, kissing my cheek. "How is Pat?"

"Hi Jed," I said, barely holding back the tears. "She slipped into a coma. It won't be long now." Jed sat and took my hand in his.

"I can't imagine what you are going through," he said. "I can't imagine how hard it must be to say good-bye to someone you love with all your heart." I knew he was thinking about Abbey when I saw the tears in his eyes. "She was a good person Janey, and she’ll be going to a place where she won't be in any more pain."

"Do you believe that, Jed? I’ve heard so many people say we will go to Hell for being gay. Do you honestly believe she will go to Heaven?"

"Yes, I do. I really believe that if Jesus were walking around today he would be fighting against gay discrimination, discrimination of any kind. We are all God's children Jane." I will always remember how my brother-in-law stayed with me that whole day and was standing beside me, holding my hand, when Pat took her final breath on this earth. How he helped me make all the arrangements and spoke at her funeral. I will never forget the emotions that ran through me when he and Abbey asked me to be Zoey's godmother and told me the new baby's name was Zoey Patricia. My nieces are the closest thing I will ever have for children, and Jed and Abbey can never know how much this meant to me.

I realize most gay people don't feel Jed Bartlet has done enough for them, I am one of them and so is Jed Bartlet. I know in his heart he wants to do more, but politics gets in the way. When he has been in office for a while and has more clout, I know he will push for a more sweeping agenda. For now we are taking baby steps, baby steps that may never be completed now.

I look at Abbey, who is sitting with her head on our mother's shoulder, Zoey's head is on her lap, and she is stroking her daughter's hair. I feel such a surge of anger at a God who would allow a good man like Jed to be shot in cold blood. A God who took Pat away from me and now threatened to do the same to my sister. This country needs him God, I pray, Abbey needs him, please don't take him away from her. Don't take him away from those girls. Don't you do it. I am lost in my own thoughts when I see Abbey rise. I see her face pale as she stumbles and is caught by Mom.

"I'm OK," Abbey says, leaning against her. "I just need some water." I follow her and Mom to the bathroom to see Abbey splashing cold water on her face and wrists while Mom rubs her back up and down.

"Honey, you are making yourself sick," Mom says. "When was the last time you ate or slept? It's no wonder you're lightheaded."

"I'm not making myself sick Mama," Abbey says, drying her face and leaning against the cool wall. "It's the baby," she looks at us for reaction.

"The baby," Mom and I say at the same time.

"I'm pregnant," Abbey says with a sad smile. "Almost three months."

"Does Jed know?" I ask.

"I told him before the surgery. I thought it might change his mind, It only made him more determined. Determined to do the same things with this baby that he did with the girls. I have no idea what the future is going to bring."

"Well Abigail. You need to start taking better care of yourself," Mom said. "You need to start thinking about that baby."

"I know Mama. But I won't be able to take it easy until I know what is going on with Jed. I don't know what kind of a mother I will be to this child if I lose Jed.'

"Abigail Anne," Mom scolded her sternly, "no more negative thoughts. We will pull Jed through this with positive thoughts."

At that moment CJ stepped out from one of the stalls.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I couldn't help but overhear you. You’re pregnant?"

"Yes CJ. But, please, keep it to yourself for now."

"But there are thousands of people outside holding a candlelight vigil. They would be happy for some good news."

"They will get good news when we tell them Jed came through the surgery with flying colors," Abbey reaches out to touch CJ's arm. "CJ, I'm not trying to be difficult. I had a first trimester miscarriage between Elizabeth and Ellie. Zoey was born a month and a half early and you know after Zoey we lost a little boy in my fifth month. Now, with my age, there is a very good chance I will not carry this child to term."

"I understand," CJ said sadly. "Just for the record I think both the President and his baby are going to make it, just a feeling in my heart."

"Thank you, CJ. I pray you are right," We all start to walk out of the bathroom but Abbey stops and grabs my arm.

"I don't want to go back out there," Abbey confides in me.

"Why not? Those are all the people who love you and Jed out there."

"I know, but when it was just me, Leo, and the girls it seemed less serious. Now with you guys, Emily, Jon and Sally, I know just what kind of a vigil this is. It makes the fact that Jed could die more real."

"Let us help you. Come on," I take her hand and lead her back into the waiting room. Abbey leads me to a window and we look outside to see thousands of people standing with candles in vigil for their fallen President.

"They love him Abbey," I say and she presses her forehead to the glass. I see the tears trickling down her cheeks and I squeeze her hand tightly, glad to be able to support her as she has supported me.

"Mrs. Bartlet," the surgeon says, entering the room. Everyone moves in close to Abbey forming a protective circle and I feel Abbey's grip on me tighten.

"How..." Abbey clears her throat. "How is my husband?"

"The President came through the surgery fine. He is in the recovery room now. His prognosis is good." Abbey closed her eyes taking a deep shuddering breath, there is an excited buzz in the room.

"What about the paralysis?" Abbey asked.

"We won't know anything about that until the President wakes up."

"Thank you doctor," Abbey placed a hand on his forearm. "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done."

"Let's just hope we have some good news when the President wakes up."

"He's alive," Abbey smiled, "that's all the good news I need."

******** The private waiting room was filled with a select few who were awaiting news on the President's surgery. His wife, his daughters, his best friend, and his mother. His staff was in and out, but they also had to help the Vice President in this time of upheaval.

Emily Bartlet looked at her daughter-in-law, who was curled up on the couch, a pillow drawn to her chest. She was just staring into space. She won't break down in front of me, Emily thought, she won't give me the satisfaction of seeing her weak. I am the one who made her this way with me. Had I welcomed her into the family with open arms she would have walked right into them. I have watched her with Josiah and the girls for so many years now. There is such love and warmth in her but I saw her as a rival, the woman who destroyed my dreams of the priesthood for Josiah. The woman who became more important in his heart than me.

I watched her become the kind of wife and mother I wish I'd been able to be. Abigail has never hidden her emotions, well, except for weakness; at least she has never shown me that. I know there is a hidden vulnerability to her, but I also know that only those really close to her have seen that. I am not close to her. We are so different, she and I. Abigail has never been shy about telling Josiah she loves him, even if it is in front of others, how he must relish that in his wife. God knows he never heard it from John or me. Their affection and intimacy has embarrassed me at times. But to be perfectly honest, some of that was envy at the closeness they share.

Even after ten years of marriage I would see them at the beach house in Maine, after the girls were tucked in, dancing in the moonlight to music only they could hear. Even now, after all these years, they still flirt with each other and get caught in embraces. My tongue has been sharp with them about this at times. One of the first real arguments I ever had with Abigail was sexual in nature.

John and I were visiting them in London for Elizabeth's christening. It had been a long day and I lay down on the couch to try to get rid of my migraine. My stomach became upset and, since Josiah and Abigail shared a bathroom with two other apartments on their floor---something I found utterly abhorrent--- I went over to their bedroom where they kept their toiletries and medicine to find something to settle it. There was a round plastic box lying on the bureau and my curiosity won out. I opened it up, my heart catching in my throat. I may never have used one before but I’d seen pictures in my gynecologist’s office. I knew what it was. A DIAPHRAGM. Just looking at it and knowing how and why it was used caused my face to burn red with embarrassment and anger. A diaphragm, my CATHOLIC daughter-in-law was using a diaphragm. I confronted her when she came to check on me. I still remember that argument as if it were yesterday.

"You are supposed to a good Catholic wife. You just sat in church having your daughter christened. Why are you using a diaphragm?"

“Because I can’t go on the Pill. I’m nursing Elizabeth.”

“That ISN’T what I meant and you know it.”

“What were doing snooping through my things?”

“I hardly had to SNOOP. You left it laying right out for the entire WORLD to see.”

“Emily, the entire WORLD does NOT make its way through my PRIVATE bedroom.”

“Does Josiah know you’re using that…that THING.”

Abbey had to suppress a chuckle thinking of the times that Jed himself had inserted it into her. What kind of marriage did Emily have to think that her husband wouldn’t know an intimate detail like that? “Um…what do you think? Of course he knows I’m using it. Do you think I’d make a decision like that on my own? He’s my husband. We discuss things like what kind of birth control is best for us at the moment.” Then, just to get her goat, Abbey continued on. “We tried condoms, but Jed doesn’t really like them, he missed the sensation of----“

“ABIGAIL, REALLY!” I knew my face had to be about purple by now. “I hardly think it’s appropriate to be discussing matters of a…well…a sexual nature about my SON.”

“Well, forgive me Emily, but you are the one who butted into your son’s sex life by asking me about my diaphragm since I am the one that he has sex with.”

“I can’t believe my son would condone going against the church like this.”

"Emily, we love our faith, but there are some things in the Church that Jed and I disagree with. Contraception is one of them. Elizabeth is only three months old. I'll be starting medical school when we move back to the States, I can't get pregnant again now."

"There are other methods," I said, embarrassed.

"Oh yes," Abbey said sarcastically. "The Rhythm method, Catholic birth control. They have a name for people who use that method."

"Really?"

"Yes. They’re called parents."

Oh, she has a smart mouth that one.

"Emily, Jed and I want to have more children, we really do. Just not now. I’m still recovering from my pregnancy with Elizabeth and her birth."

"Well," I sniffed, "you could abstain." Abigail burst into laughter.

"Why don't you discuss that with your son and let me know what he has to say about that?"

"What I have to say about what?" Josiah asked entering the room.

"Your mother found my diaphragm. She’s angry we’re using birth control. She thinks we should abstain from sex."

"Holy mother of God," Jed groaned, rolling his eyes. "Don't you dare give her any ideas, Mother. She didn't throw it out, did she?"

"No pumpkin, it’s safe."

"Josiah," I crossed over my chest, disapproval clear on my face "You know it is against the Church."

"Oh, sorry to interrupt, Mother," Josiah said. “But I think I hear Elizabeth crying. I'll go get her." he hurried away and I heard Abigail mutter, "Coward," under her breath.

Evidently I was ignored and they continued their use. The way those two are, had they not, I might have had at least a dozen grandchildren.

When I look at my three granddaughters, I realize how lucky they are to have Abigail as a mother. I wish I could open my arms to my children the way Abigail does. I know they are all grown now but I so regret the way I was with them as children.

Josiah was such an earnest little boy. He was absolutely adorable, with his tousled fair hair and big blue eyes. My heart aches at how much he tried to please John and I. But, most of the time he couldn't please one of us without displeasing the other. He tried so hard, and yet we never told him it was enough. We never told him just how proud we were of him and how much we loved him. He had to wait until he was in college and had met Abigail before hearing those words. It still amazes me how easy it is for the two of them to say those three words that elude me,"I love you." How simple, and yet so hard.

I am not a stupid woman. I know one of my biggest problems with Abigail is jealousy. I had to struggle so hard to fit in to the Bartlet family. Truth be told I may have fallen in love with the idea of marrying into this old New England family as much, if not more, than I did falling in love with John Bartlet. I was the Boston Irish girl marrying into a family that came over on the Mayflower. I know John's family was against our marriage. But, for once in his life, he showed some spirit and defied them. Sometimes I think that is the only reason he married me. To defy his father. Old Josiah liked to run his family with an iron fist and marrying me had been John's one act of defiance.

John and I were not close like Josiah and Abigail; we got married for all the wrong reasons. But, I did try so hard to be the perfect Bartlet wife, to be the perfect headmaster's wife. The Academy always came first with John, before me and before his children. Josiah's intellect comes from John, but he is not the cool emotionally detached man his father was. In fact, Josiah gets his charm, his talent in spinning a good yarn, his ability to electrify a crowd, and his vitality and passion for life from my side of the family. Those boisterous Irish relatives I tried to keep my children steered clear of. Josiah loved visiting my parents and his uncles but we didn't do it often. I tried to convince Josiah to take his passion for helping people and become a priest. But, Abigail entered the picture, and it became apparent that although he was a devoted Catholic, the priesthood was not for him. Politics was in his blood, even a stint as an economics professor could not dilute that.

Funny, Abigail never had trouble fitting in. I don't think that woman has ever felt inferior to anyone. She is just as comfortable in scrubs saving peoples lives as she is in glittering ballgowns hostessing state dinners, or in jeans mucking out the stalls at home, playing farmer Jed's wife as she calls it. I think this comes from being comfortable in your own skin. Abigail is, Josiah is, I am not.

Abigail was able to bring John out of his shell and make him laugh, which was something very few people could do. Even Josiah was uncomfortable around his father, Abigail never was. It was me that caused her discomfort.

And Old Josiah. That crotchety old man who terrified me loved Abigail. She actually had the nerve to refer to him as OJ. They teased each other mercilessly. I remember overhearing Old Josiah talking to his grandson, "You got yourself one hell of a spitfire there Jed. Hell, if I were forty years younger, I'd give you a run for your money and steal Abbey right out from under your nose".

"I believe you would Granddad," Josiah had laughed. The three of them could argue politics for hours, for while Josiah and Abigail were earnest Democrats, Old Josiah was a staunch Republican. They all seemed to enjoy the sparring and the intellectual challenge it imposed. In the end, his grandson was the only Democrat Old Josiah ever voted for. Even then it was done grudgingly, but I know how thrilled he was to have his grandson Governor of the state he loved so much. He didn't live to see him become President. When Abigail spoke at the funeral I realized she really had a genuine affection for the old man, she wasn't just trying to fit in.

I know Abigail has had some difficult moments, very difficult moments. But I am jealous at the ease she had in becoming a Bartlet. She didn't even try. Maybe that was my problem, maybe I tried too hard.

And so here we are, falling into a familiar pattern, sitting on opposite sides of the room when we should be comforting each other.

I am not a completely cold woman. I wanted to reach out to her once but I felt so guilty I couldn't. I know Josiah has never forgiven me for not comforting Abigail when they lost Peter. She needed a mother's comfort and I was not there for her.

They were visiting John and I with the girls. Abigail was around five months pregnant. She hadn't been feeling well so she went upstairs to our bedroom to lay down. I heard her scream out Josiah's name and then I saw him come running down the stairs, pale as a ghost, shouting for us to call an ambulance, that Abigail was losing the baby. While John called, I went back upstairs with Josiah. There was so much blood and Abigail was in so much pain. She was scared and pleading with Josiah not to let her lose the baby. Josiah was trying to comfort her and keep her calm but I could see how frightened he was.

Later, at the hospital, Josiah came out of Abigail's room, exhausted and in tears, to tell us that she had miscarried and that it had been a boy. He told me they had given her a sedative but that I could go in and sit with her while he talked to the girls. I never went in, I couldn't. I know Abigail thought I was angry with her for losing my grandson but that wasn't it at all. It was my guilt that kept me away.

When Josiah and Abigail told me they were pregnant again I was thrilled. For the first time in all Abigail's pregnancies I had prayed she would have a boy. It was the first time I had not just prayed for a healthy grandchild, I had asked God for a boy. Now I felt that God was punishing me for that. I left the hospital and went to confession. I returned to the hospital ready to ask Abigail for her forgiveness, but Josiah met me in the hall.

"How is Abigail?" I asked.

"The sedative took over. She’s asleep. Where have you been, Mother?" He asked coldly.

"I..well..I," I stammered.

"Never mind. I don't care. I know you and Abbey are not close but she needed you today. Couldn't you have just sat with her and held her hand? My God Mother, we just lost our son. I've always known you were a cold woman but I never realized you could be cruel." Until I die, I will never forget those words or the icy disdain in my son's blue eyes.

I look at Abigail now. She looks utterly wiped out. She is trying so hard to be strong for everyone. The dark smudges under her eyes attest to the fact that she has not slept in days. The truth of the matter is, she has become a shadow of her former vibrant self. I fear what will happen to her if Josiah doesn't pull through.

He has to pull through. I am sure that Abigail told Josiah she loved him before the surgery. I didn't, I wish I had. At least she won't have that hanging over her head the way I will if something happens. I should have told him I love him. He is my son, my baby. I never thought he could be taken from me this way. God, I thought, I believed in you with all my heart. How could you let my son be torn apart by bullets? You already took Eleanor. You can't be so cruel as to make me outlive another one of my children. I am so sorry. If you let Josiah live, I will tell him that I love him, I promise.

****

We are all quiet. So quiet. All lost in our private thoughts, private memories of Jed, Abbey thought, I can't afford to dwell on the past. If I do I will lose this tenuous control I have over myself. I try to stay focused on the future, planning Jed's rehabilitation because if I think of the alternatives, it will make me crazy. There is some commotion outside the door and then my mother and my sister Jane come in. My mother is back. Oh God, I feel myself tearing up, I am going to lose it. Oh please don't let me lose it in front of my daughters, in front of Emily. Oh Mama help me, I think, and then I am on my feet racing into her arms.

"Mama," I cry as I feel her arms encircle me. Suddenly I am ten years old again, begging my mother to make everything Ok. "I'm so glad you came back."

"Sssh...ssh baby," Mom is stroking my hair and it feels so good to just let it out. I have been wound up so tight trying to be the strong one. It is a relief to let go and let myself be comforted. "He'll be OK, sweetheart."

"You don't know that," I say angrily. "He could die or he could end up on life support. He has a living will. It will be up to me to tell them to pull the plug. I don't think I can handle this, Mama," my hands cover my eyes as I fight a losing battle with my fears and my tears.

"Abigail, don't think the worse."

"I could have lived with him in a wheelchair. At least he'd be alive. He is so damned stubborn. Why did he have to take this chance?"

"Because there is a chance for him to be whole again."

"And the rest of us be damned," I sniffed bitterly.

"No, Abbey. Good Lord, that man loves you more than he loves his own life."

"Well, doesn't he know that is how I feel? I just want him alive and arguing with me or spouting off some stupid trivia, just being a jackass about something. None of this was supposed to happen, Mama. Just over 48 hours ago I kissed my husband good-bye and went to bed because I wasn't feeling well. When I was awakened a couple hours later with the news that he had been shot, my whole world was turned upside down. Here we are just over two days later and Jed is still fighting for his life. This is some damned NIGHTMARE!" I begin to cry again taking comfort from the only person, other than Jed, who can make me feel safe.

"Mom," Ellie says softly, and I turn to see the tear stained faces of my daughters. Oh God, I forgot they were here. These three magnificent girls Jed and I created. I see that they are scared now. They know they may lose their father.

"I'm sorry, girls. I didn't mean to let go like that. I wish I could save him for you," I opened my arms and the three girls rushed in, wrapping me in a circle of arms.

"We're going to help you Mom" Zoey said. "Please let us help you."

"We're going to get through this. TOGETHER," Elizabeth said firmly.

I look over my daughters' shoulders and see my mother-in-law in the corner, rosary in hand. She looks so alone, while I am surrounded by love. I gently shrug out of my daughters' arms and take a step toward Emily. I open my arms, biting my bottom lip, as I await her reaction. Will she reject my overture? She looks at me for a long moment then gets to her feet. Slowly, very slowly, she makes her way to me and stops in front of me.

"I know how much you love him Abigail," she says simply. "I've always known. You are a wonderful wife and mother." And with those words she allowed herself to be comforted in my embrace for the first time since I met her.

***

This is so unfair, Elizabeth was thinking, my dad has never hurt anyone in his life. I can't believe somebody shot him. The fact that anyone would want to hurt my father is just beyond my capacity for belief. I just can't believe that he may be gone from my life. I am not ready to lose my father. It is not his time. It can't be. He has been such an overwhelming presence in my life that to have him gone, especially in this violent way, will be a void I could never fill.

This is a man who lived for his family. I think back on my first trip to Storyland. A trip I was to take many times as my sisters came along. I had been bursting with excitement to go for weeks. I must have been around 5 because Ellie was a baby.

I remember how big Daddy seemed leading me up the narrow staircase of the Three Bears house. He sat on papa bear's bed, Mommy sat on Mama bear's bed with baby Ellie in her frontpack, and I sat on baby bear's bed, and Daddy recited the whole story of the Three Bears from memory. I liked it best when he did the voices. I liked the way Mommy would roll her eyes when he did a high pitched falsetto Mama bear. It made me giggle every time.

But, what I really remember, is the main reason I wanted to go to Storyland in the first place. The pumpkin coach ride to Cinderella's castle and meeting my heroine. I dutifully, and with enjoyment, visited Red Riding Hoods grandmothers house, fed the Three Little Pigs and the Billy Goats Gruff, and rode on Alice's teacups, but I was brimming with excitement when I saw Cinderell’s castle on the hill. But, as we got in line for the coach ride up, Ellie began to fuss. Mommy said she was hungry and she would have to find somewhere to feed her. Mommy was feeding Ellie from her breast, which is what she called her booby so it wasn’t like she could just feed her in front of everyone on the trip up to the castle. Daddy must have seen how disappointed I was to have to wait while Ellie nursed so he told Mommy he would take me up himself and she could meet us up there. I remember bouncing from foot to foot, unable to stand still. Daddy's big hand held mine so I wouldn't race up ahead. Finally the pumpkin coach came. Daddy squeezed himself in and I sat on his lap peering out the window for the first glimpse of the castle.

When we got out of the coach Cinderella was waiting there to greet us but I was suddenly stricken with shyness. While other kids moved forward to shake her hand and have their pictures taken, I held back. Daddy would have none of that. I remember how he took my hand and urged me forward.

"Hello Miss Cinderella," he said,"this is Elizabeth Bartlet. Elizabeth, this is Cinderella." I felt so grown up and important. Cinderella shook my hand and Daddy took my picture. My father has always had the ability to make me feel like the most important person in the world.

This is a man who took me deep sea fishing, and built sandcastles with me the summers we spent at the beach in Maine. The man who kneeled beside me while I said my prayers at night before bed. This is the man who taught me how to swim and how to drive. This is the man I entrusted to take care of my daughter when I could not.

Oh please God don't take my father away.

*****

Oh Daddy, please don't leave me, Ellie was thinking. I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I am I wasn't around more during the campaign. I just hate all that. All those people only wanting to shake my hand because I am Jed Bartlet's daughter. It's not like I did anything to accomplish that. I was simply born a Bartlet.

Even though I sometimes feel like the odd one out I know all I have to do is call and he would come running. That was never more apparent to me then when I got my first period. Mom was at the hospital on an emergency and Liz was sleeping at a friend's house. Daddy was downstairs cooking supper for us. I could hear his baritone voice singing with Zoey while he cooked. I went into the bathroom and saw the tell tale signs in my panties. I was mortified. Mom had explained it all to me a while back, both she and Liz were 13 when they started, so I wasn't shocked. But, I needed supplies. I certainly couldn't ask Daddy to get them. I waited in that bathroom for half an hour wondering if I would just wait here all night until Mom got home.

Daddy became impatient after calling me down to dinner three or four times and he came knocking on the bathroom door.

"Ellie, are you alright? You've been in there an awfully long time," he said.

"I'm OK, Dad," I responded. Oh God, I thought, this is not happening to me. Please let me crawl under the carpet and die.

"Well, are you coming down to dinner?"

"I...I can't," I stammered, about to burst into tears.

"Eleanor Bartlet, tell me what is wrong this instant," he said in that authoritative voice that brooked no nonsense. I opened the door a crack and peered out at him with tears in my eyes.

"I...I started my period." I was too embarrassed to look up at him. I couldn't believe I actually said it and to my FATHER of all people.

"Ellie," his voice was gentle now and that only made me want to cry even more. "This is your first time, isn't it?"

"Yes," I whispered miserably.

"Oh honey. “ He lifted my chin to look in my eyes. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. This is a natural part of life. Your mother has a period, Elizabeth has a period, when..."

"Daddy," I said, interrupting him, knowing he was ready to go on some rambling explanation of the female reproductive cycle. "Mom explained it all to me when I was eight and Elizabeth got her period."

"Oh, well then. Is there a problem?"

"I don't have any...I need the stuff."

"The stuff?” He looked confused. “Oh…OH, the STUFF" he said, turning red. "Let me see what I can find." I watched him go into his and Mom's bathroom and saw him pull her boxes of tampons out then toss them back under the sink. He found what I needed in Elizabeth's room and handed me the box of pads.

“Do you…ah…know how to use them?”

“Mom showed me a while ago, but I think it’s pretty self explanatory.” Could my face have gotten any hotter.

"Do you need any aspirin?" He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed and out of his element. "Do you have a headache, or cramps?"

"No," I said, equally embarrassed. "I'm fine. I'll be down to dinner in a minute."

After dinner Daddy dropped Zoey off to be baby-sat by Mrs. Landingham and he took me out for an ice cream sundae. Mom had celebrated Liz becoming a woman in the same way. Daddy was keeping up the tradition. We didn't talk about it like I'm sure Mom and Liz had. We talked about school and about field hockey tryouts but it made me feel special just the same.

Later, not long after I went to bed, Mom came into my room and crawled into bed next to me. She began to stroke my hair.

"Daddy told me you started your period tonight," she said. "I'm really sorry I wasn't here, sweetie. Do you have any questions? Do you need anything?"

"No I'm OK, Mama. Daddy took care of me."

That's the way it has always been. Daddy has always taken care of me. This is the man who read me stories at bedtime, who cheered too loudly at my soccer and field hockey games, who helped me study for my SAT's. Even when I don't see him I know he is only a phone call away. What if I can't make that phone call again? What if he is gone?

Please God don't take my father away.

****

God, there was so much blood, Zoey was thinking. When the service pushed Daddy into the limo I knew something was terribly wrong right away. Daddy just fell against the seat like a limp rag. His eyes were open but there was blood coming out of his mouth. He was choking on it. He said my name and I told him I was OK. Then he said Mom's name twice and said he was cold before losing consciousness. I am not just the President's daughter, I am a doctor's daughter. My Daddy was cold. It meant he was dying. Ron was trying to stop the bleeding and I just started crying out "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" CJ was holding me tightly trying to comfort me and hold me back at the same time. She was crying too, I know she thought the same thing I did, that my Dad was dead.

He can't die, my Dad cannot die. He has always been there for me. I've always been his baby. My Dad makes me feel safe and protected. I am so scared I may lose that.

I have so many memories of my Dad. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to flashes of lightning and booming thunder. My heart would begin to pound as the terror filled me. I would grab my teddy bear, Mr. Fuzzy, and run down the hall to Mommy and Daddy's room. I would crawl up into their big bed. Mommy was usually sleeping curled up against Daddy using his chest as a pillow or Daddy would be laying wrapped around Mom from behind. In any case they always had to break apart to make room for me. There were sleepy murmurs as they asked who it was and what was wrong, and I would snuggle into the warmth of their bodies feeling my terror dissipate.

"It's OK Zoey," Daddy would whisper as he stroked my back. "You're safe sweetheart. Go to sleep."

Then, there were the summers when he would take us all camping in the National Parks. He isn't exaggerating when he says he has been to them all. Liz, Ellie, and I would share a tent as did Mom and Dad. We would all sit around the campfire late into the night, Mom would tell us scary ghost stories and then Dad would start in with the history of whatever park we were in. Sometimes it was interesting, most of the time it was boring and I would fall asleep. But it was so comforting just to hear his deep voice drone into the night. Then he would pick me up and tuck me into my sleeping bag. Some nights, after all three of us were tucked in, I would peer out and see Mom and Dad still sitting facing the fire. Mom would sit between Dad's legs, his arms were wrapped around her, his chin resting on the top of her head as they stared into the fire. A feeling of safety and contentment would fill me at the evidence of their togetherness. I am scared of losing this. I am scared that if I lose my father I will lose my mother too. It is hard to think of one without the other. They are both incredibly strong people but they both depend on each other so much.

My father is the man who held the reins while I learned how to ride my first pony. He is the man who carted me around to horse shows all over New England and held me in his arms in the ambulance when I fell at a show and broke my arm. He played tea party with me and fished with me in the pond at our farm. I need my Dad.

Please, God, don't take my father away.

~~~~~~~~~

The room has filled even more. Jed's brother Jon and his wife Sally are here. I feel sort of superfluous. I thought about staying back at the White House with Dad and Annie but something made me come here with Mom instead. It's not that Abbey and I are particularly close. We aren't alienated either, we are sisters. We will always be sisters, but we have very different, very busy lives. But, Abbey and Jed have always been there for me. It is important for me to be here for them.

Abbey was two years older than me and Mom used to say we were as different as night and day. As a little girl, Abbey was forever bringing home stray and injured animals to nurse back to health. I used to help her feed them and care for them. I remember one night she got up every two hours to feed an abandoned kitten with an eyedropper, she was only 9 years old. It is very appropriate she ended up on a farm. I thought she would become a vet, Dad used to say "Beth, this one is going to be a nurse," and Mom would say, "No Michael, that one is going to be a doctor." Guess Mom won that one.

I still remember Abbey's bedroom at our big old house in Salem, Massachusetts where we grew up. The house had belonged to one of the old whaling captains from the previous century and was huge. Dad was a doctor, a very important doctor in Boston, and we didn't want for anything. Abbey was a "girly" girl and her room reflected that. The wallpaper was pink roses, the curtains and her bedspread, white eyelet lace. And she had a large canopy bed. There were posters of Paul McCartney and Robert Redford on the walls. There was a shelf with her riding trophies and ribbons, and a bookshelf crammed with books. She has always been a brain. She and her friends were always giggling in that room, fussing over new hairstyles and make-up, and mooning over movie stars and the Beatles. To be fair, she did try to include me. She used to tell me, "Come on Janey, you'd be really pretty if you just let me curl your hair." But I wasn't interested.

I remember sitting on the edge of her bed watching her primp for her dates. Then, all these years later, I was at the White House for a state dinner and I watched her prepare in the same exact way. Only this time it was for one man, Jed Bartlet.

I remember that first weekend she brought him home with her to introduce to the family. There was a sparkle in her eye I had never seen before. I didn't need her to tell me he was 'the one'. It was written all over her face and it was in the way he looked at her.

A year later Abbey came to me with barely concealed excitement to tell me how Jed had gotten down on one knee and proposed to her at the Bartlet farm and how she had lost her virginity that afternoon. Her face was just glowing as she told me, "I'm so glad I waited Janey. It meant so much that it was Jed. I knew it would hurt but he was so sweet. He kept telling me how much he loved me and I knew it was true. He wasn't just saying it to get me into bed."

I was Abbey's maid of honor. I tried to convince her to let it be Millie, her best friend from college but Abbey was adamant. I was her sister, so I was maid of honor. Millie was a bridesmaid. God, how I hated that rose colored gown. Unlike Abbey, I HATE dresses. Abbey is the clotheshorse in our family, she always has been. Being First Lady has just given her an excuse to have famous designers at her beck and call. She is one of the few feminists I know who have not lost their femininity. She may be some big wig doctor but she also likes to look good, really good.

I can't help but compare Jed's reception into our family and my own partner Pat's welcome. It was almost non-existent. Abbey was the first person in the family I came out of the closet to. I was visiting their duplex in Cambridge and Abbey had just put Elizabeth down for a nap, Jed was teaching a class at MIT. Abbey handed me a cup of tea and sat down with a tired sigh, having a three year old and being in medical school was exhausting for her.

"Abbey," I said, "I am going to be introducing you to the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"Oh Janey, that's wonderful. I didn't even know you were dating anyone seriously. Why haven't you ever spoken of him? What's his name? Did he get down on one knee? Where is your ring?"

"Stop...stop," I laughed.

"I can't help it. I'm excited."

"You may not be after you hear this. The person I am in love with, well, HER name is Pat. She’s a woman and we’ve already been together for about five years. We met in college, at the Chicago Institute of Art."

Abbey’s smile faded replaced with a look of shock. “But, that’s about as long as Jed and I have been together. And you never said a thing. Here I was going on and on about the love of my life and losing my virginity and you never even mentioned that you were dating anyone.”

“Well, the love of your life was a socially acceptable MAN. How do you think you would have reacted if I’d come to you to tell you I’d just had my first lover too, and she was a woman? That there had been no pain for me as there was for you because there was no penis involved.”

"A woman," Abbey said softly. She just stared at me as if not able to comprehend this and she couldn’t, not really. The word lover brought to her mind the masculine, not the feminine, strong hairy chests, not soft pale breasts. "You're a...a...a"

"Lesbian," I grinned, but I knew my face was turning red. I hated the thought of my sister turning from me in disgust. "You can say it Abbey."

"I...I don't know what to say, Jane. I'm shocked. I don’t know why this is more shocking to me than Colin and Gerard our neighbors back in London who were gay and became good friends of mine and Jed’s. Maybe it’s because they were men and I understood an attraction to men.

"Oh come on Abbey, you can't be too shocked. Didn't you ever wonder why I didn't drool like you over Paul Newman and Robert Redford or dream about marrying Paul McCartney like you and your friends? That I didn't care about my clothes or make up or perfume?"

"I guess I just thought you were eccentric. You’re an artist for goddsake, you’re supposed to be eccentric."

"Abbey..."

"Oh, all right. I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind I may have wondered why. I just never expected...This" Abbey couldn’t help the revulsion in her tone.

"Is it that repulsive to you?"

"YOU don’t repulse me, Janey, it’s just the idea of a sexual attraction to a woman, of being lovers with a woman… you have to give me some time to get used to the idea. I guess having drooled, as you so eloquently put it, over men since I was a teenager I have a hard time picturing an attraction to a woman. You really don't get turned on by men at all?" I saw her mind wander and I knew she was thinking about Jed. What I didn't know was that she was thinking about everything about him that turned her on everything that was masculine. His hands, which could be so gentle, or have barely restrained strength, the way the blond hairs grew on the muscles his tanned forearms, the satiny hardness of his penis and that exquisite way she felt when he slid deep inside her, the feeling of his muscles bunching and straining in his back and shoulders as he thrust inside her making love to her…making her burn for him. The way the sandy hair on his chest tapered off on his belly to become a straight line disappearing into...

"Earth to Abbey," I say, and she comes out of her reverie.

"Sorry, I guess I was just thinking…”Now it was Abbey’s turn to blush. “I mean, I don’t get it. A man can do everything a woman can do sexually but…well…MORE.”

"I don’t understand it myself, I’m just not turned on by men, but I can see from your face what they do for you or at least what ONE man does for you." We both laughed. "What I need to know is will you be able to accept me this way? Accept Pat?"

"Jane, you’re my sister, I love you. I want you to be happy. If this Pat person makes you happy, I’ll do everything I can to make her feel welcome. I’m not saying it won’t be awkward, but I promise to try."

"What about Jed?"

"You leave Jed to me."

I'll never know what was said in the conversation between Abbey and Jed. All I know is that the two of them provided a united front with me when I told Mom and Dad about Pat. From my parents I at first got shock, then anger and tears and a complete lack of understanding but Abbey and Jed backed me up all the way. Pat and I were always welcome in their home and because of that it didn’t take my parents that long to come around.

I know that despite his stance on gay rights, Jed is not really comfortable with the gay lifestyle. But he explained to me that when he takes himself out of the equation and only thinks about individuals being able to love who they are in love with it makes it an issue worth fighting for. I think Pat and I helped to open both their minds a little wider.

Both Jed and Abbey were so helpful and loving when Pat was dying of breast cancer. When she went into the hospital for the final time, Abbey was on bed rest due to her difficult pregnancy with Zoey. Pat's family had disowned her and my parents were at a medical convention in Europe. I was sitting all alone outside Pat's room when I saw Jed coming down the hall, his coat draped over his arm.

"Hey Janey," he said, kissing my cheek. "How is Pat?"

"Hi Jed," I said, barely holding back the tears. "She slipped into a coma. It won't be long now." Jed sat and took my hand in his.

"I can't imagine what you’re going through," he said. "I can't imagine how hard it must be to say good-bye to someone you love with all your heart." I knew he was thinking about Abbey when I saw the tears in his eyes. "She was a good person Janey, and she’ll be going to a place where she won't be in any more pain."

"Do you believe that, Jed? I’ve heard so many people say we’ll go to Hell for being gay. Do you honestly believe she’ll go to Heaven?"

"Yes, I do. I really believe that if Jesus were walking around today he would be fighting against gay discrimination, discrimination of any kind. We are all God's children Jane." I will always remember how my brother-in-law stayed with me that whole day and was standing beside me, holding my hand, when Pat took her final breath on this earth. How he helped me make all the arrangements and spoke at her funeral. I will never forget the emotions that ran through me when he and Abbey asked me to be Zoey's godmother and told me the new baby's name was Zoey Patricia. My nieces are the closest thing I will ever have for children, and Jed and Abbey can never know how much this meant to me.

I realize most gay people don't feel Jed Bartlet has done enough for them, I am one of them and so is Jed Bartlet. I know in his heart he wants to do more, but politics gets in the way. When he has been in office for a while and has more clout, I know he will push for a more sweeping agenda. For now we are taking baby steps, baby steps that may never be completed now.

I look at Abbey, who is sitting with her head on our mother's shoulder, Zoey's head is on her lap, and she is stroking her daughter's hair. I feel such a surge of anger at a God who would allow a good man like Jed to be shot in cold blood. A God who took Pat away from me and now threatened to do the same to my sister. This country needs him God, I pray, Abbey needs him, please don't take him away from her. Don't take him away from those girls. Don't you do it. I am lost in my own thoughts when I see Abbey rise. I see her face pale as she stumbles and is caught by Mom.

"I'm OK, just a little nauseous," Abbey says, leaning against her. "I need some water." I follow her and Mom to the bathroom to see Abbey splashing cold water on her face and wrists while Mom rubs her back up and down.

"Honey, you’re making yourself sick," Mom says. "When was the last time you ate or slept? It's no wonder you're lightheaded."

"I'm not making myself sick Mama," Abbey says, drying her face and leaning against the cool wall. "It's the baby," she looks at us for reaction.

"The baby," Mom and I say at the same time.

"I'm pregnant," Abbey says with a sad smile. "About eight weeks."

"Does Jed know?" I ask.

"I told him before the surgery. I thought it might change his mind, It only made him more determined. Determined to do the same things with this baby that he did with the girls. I have no idea what the future is going to bring."

"Well, Abigail. You need to start taking better care of yourself," Mom said. "You need to start thinking about that baby growing inside you."

"I know, Mama. But I won't be able to take it easy until I know what is going on with Jed. I don't know what kind of a mother I will be to this child if I lose Jed.'

"Abigail Anne," Mom scolded her sternly, "no more negative thoughts. We will pull Jed through this with positive thoughts."

At that moment CJ stepped out from one of the stalls.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I couldn't help but overhear you. You’re pregnant?"

"Yes CJ. But, please, keep it to yourself for now."

"But there are thousands of people outside holding a candlelight vigil. They would be happy for some good news."

"They will get good news when we tell them Jed came through the surgery with flying colors," Abbey reaches out to touch CJ's arm. "CJ, I'm not trying to be difficult. I had a first trimester miscarriage between Elizabeth and Ellie. Zoey was born a month and a half early and you know after Zoey we lost a little boy in my fifth month. Now, with my age, there is a very good chance I may not carry this child to term."

"I understand," CJ said sadly. "Just for the record I think both the President and his baby are going to make it, just a feeling in my heart."

"Thank you, CJ. I pray you are right," We all start to walk out of the bathroom but Abbey stops and grabs my arm.

"I don't want to go back out there," Abbey confides in me.

"Why not? Those are all the people who love you and Jed out there."

"I know, but when it was just me, Leo, and the girls it seemed less serious. Now with you guys, Emily, Jon and Sally, I know just what kind of a vigil this is. It makes the fact that Jed could die more real."

"Let us help you. Come on," I take her hand and lead her back into the waiting room. Abbey leads me to a window and we look outside to see thousands of people standing with candles in vigil for their fallen President.

"They love him Abbey," I say and she presses her forehead to the glass. I see the tears trickling down her cheeks and I squeeze her hand tightly, glad to be able to support her as she has supported me.

"Mrs. Bartlet," the surgeon says, entering the room. Everyone moves in close to Abbey forming a protective circle and I feel Abbey's grip on me tighten.

"How..." Abbey clears her throat. "How is my husband?"

"The President came through the surgery fine. He is in the recovery room now. His prognosis is good." Abbey closed her eyes taking a deep shuddering breath, there is an excited buzz in the room.

"What about the paralysis?" Abbey asked.

"We won't know anything about that until the President wakes up."

"Thank you doctor," Abbey placed a hand on his forearm. "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done."

"Let's just hope we have some good news when the President wakes up."

"He's alive," Abbey smiled, "that's all the good news I need."

TBC...