Chapter Seven
She held his hand as he guided her through the bustling Indiana Airport. He’d
apparently been here before. She had too, of course, in her younger years with
her family on vacations. However, Jed had it down to a science. He smoothly wound them through the crush to the ticket desk. Over
the phone, he’d traded his first-class ticket for two in coach. That, Abbey
knew, was a sacrifice, because first-class was sweet. Coach may not be the pits,
but it sure as hell wasn’t first-class.
He requested their tickets and got their boarding passes for gate 4. As
he tugged her in the appropriate direction, his hand still securely encompassing hers, she couldn’t help but think that
this was not how she imagined her wedding day going.
They’d driven to Terre Haute City Hall, and found the Justice of the Peace, who it just so happened was a friend
of the Bartlet’s. The ways in which they’d gotten off lucky there
were numerous. Seeing Abbey’s face and knowing Jed’s nature, he only
asked once if they were certain that this was what they wanted. They had hesitated,
but conceded to the fact that it was what both of them wanted. He wanted to keep
her safe and she wanted to be safe. To say it was a marriage of convenience was
inadequate. To say it was a marriage of survival was more on target.
They arrived at the gate just in time. The stewardesses waved them in
with a quick flash of their passes and they charged down the throughway at high speed.
The urgency of their run was admittedly exhilarating. When they made it,
she threw her arms around him and gave him a grateful hug. They’d made
it! They were going to London.
Realizing they had caught the attention of the entire cabin, she blushed, but Jed explained it away easily enough. “We just got married.” Suddenly,
all awkwardness evaporated as people applauded what was surely young love in action.
They were right. In a way it was love.
There was no other explanation. This had been an act of love.
It was shocking to even think that he might have done this because he loved her.
Yes, the notion was absurd. They’d already addressed the fact that
he hardly knew her well enough to die for her much less marry her. And yet not
two full days later, she was his wife with all the privileges retained therein. She
was Mrs. Josiah Edward Bartlet. It had not been her dream wedding and this was
not her dream honeymoon and yet she still found some joy in it. She had done
what every girl wanted to do. She had found a kind, decent man to care for her
and she had married him. Now they were going to London to start a life. That is, if he still wanted her when they got there.
It occurred suddenly to her that this might not be permanent. He might have married her solely for the sake of her safety and might want an annulment once they arrived
in London. He was, after all, supposed to join the Priesthood. What if he changed his mind about staying with her and decided to go back to Manchester and Notre Dame
and his brother? Then, she’d be all alone in a strange new country on a
different continent with no money and nowhere to be. Oh, God, what if she’d
been wrong? Had she made the wrong decision?
As she pondered this, she drifted into sleep in her small seat with her arms held protectively around her middle. The cabin pressure was hell on her cracked ribs.
The pain became so intense that she cried in her sleep. Jed wiped away
the profuse tears and lifted up the divider between their seats to take her gently into his arms which were undoubtedly more
comfortable that the economically cushioned seat. Her tears tapered off as she
found her place his kind embrace.
Unbeknownst to his dozing new wife, he had fears that were twin to hers. Would
she want him once she was totally free of Daniel’s grasp? Would he be a
burden to her, a hindrance? He could never do that; he never wanted to be that
to her. But what if he was? What
if he was all that stood in her way? She
could do anything now. However, he decided that no matter what happened in London,
for this short time, Abigail Barrington had been Abigail Bartlet and he would always know that even if no one else ever did.
He held her closer and kissed her hair. He knew he’d never be worthy
of someone like her. He felt the pull of watching eyes on him and looked up to
see an elderly couple watching from across the aisle. They smiled in that reminiscent
way. He could see their fifty years together by the love that shined like opposite
halves of the smiling moon. Age hadn’t touched them because their love
had never deserted them. He could only pray that in fifty years, he’d be
able to say that. Although, he certainly couldn’t say that now.
The plane ride between Indianapolis and London would be around twelve hours.
She slept the majority of the way, grumbling a little but for the most part staying silent. She didn’t say much when she was awake, preferring to look out the window over the endless ocean
beneath them through the fog that permeated the sky. She sighed like clockwork,
never sparing him a look. She was mourning her home.
He patted her hand to catch her attention. “You know, you can go
back someday. You aren’t gonna be stuck with me forever.”
She smiled with no small amount of guilt. “I don’t feel stuck
with you. I’m happy to be here. You’re
a lovely man. I’m just so angry that I had to leave my life because
he wouldn‘t let me go. My parents wouldn‘t even help me. They‘re as blind as their own prejudice.”
“Maybe they saw, but they just didn’t understand.”
“They understood everything; they chose to be ignorant.” She
shrugged self consciously. “But they’re my parents and parents are
only human, right?”
“True, but that doesn’t -- that doesn’t excuse them. Please don’t make excuses for unforgivable
behavior.”
“Like Dan’s?”
“Exactly like Dan’s.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
She settled into his shoulder, and made idle conversation as he fidgeted uncomfortably on the plane’s final approach. She smiled. He hated flying…and
yet he had -- for her, he had.
The plane touched down, violently jostling the groggy passengers. He clinched
his teeth until they came to a complete stop. He let out an unconscious breath
and thanked her for her helping hand. They exited the plane arm in arm. It was one part defense mechanism, two parts consolation.
They took a cab to a hotel. It wasn’t the Hilton or any place as
highly rated. It was what he could afford and just so. His scholarship had yet to kick in and they needed somewhere to stay.
His savings, which he’d brought to Indiana on a whim, took quite the beating from the trip.
She sat on the edge of the twin-sized bed and looked around the tiny, dark room.
It wasn’t paradise, or a suite, or a dream. It was, however, far
away from Daniel Rawston. And that would have to do. For this exhausted duration,
it would have to do.
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