Chapter Text
November 1943
The first sign was when Electra choked on her tea.
Everyone knew about her sweet tooth. Pastries, cakes, and a morning cup of sweet tea. She hated many things about the war, but sugar rationing was near the top of the list.
So it was a surprise when she rushed over to the sink and spat out her cup of tea.
“Darling?” Major Ramsey glanced up from his newspaper, alarmed for his wife and their dwindling tea ration.
“Sorry, I must have made a mistake,” Electra said. She poured the rest out in the sink. “I think I put salt in by mistake.”
Ramsey raised an eyebrow. Their breakfast tray had a pot of black coffee for him, a kettle of tea for her, and the sugar jar. Salt was tucked away in the cabinet, unseen until dinner.
“I’ll pour your another,” he said, making sure to take a whiff of the sugar jar before adding a large spoonful to her cup.
“Thank you, love.” Electra took another sip; this time she didn’t gag, but he noticed the grimace she was trying to hide. The teacup remained full and untouched by the time she left for the War Office- Electra now worked for military intelligence under a different handler, ever since they married – and Ramsey forced himself to take a sip to see what the fuss was about. It was practically sugar water, he thought, just the way his wife liked it. He, however, had to wash out the taste with strong, thick coffee.
The oddness continued. She came home from the butcher’s empty-handed, her face pale and white. “I know we wanted sausages, but something in there just didn’t smell right.”
That night in bed, when they reached for each other, things quickly went awry. Ramsey loved to run his lips over her face, the strong jawline, the sensitive junction where the neck met the shoulder. Normally his ministrations led to shivers of delight, but this time there was a noise that almost sounded like retching. It was a little hard not to take it personally.
“Darling, did you change your shaving soap?” she asked, trying to sound neutral. Ramsey pulled back, confused.
“No.” He’d always been a creature of habit, and Electra told him many times how much she loved the smell of his aftershave, especially when she was kissing him.
“Are you sure?”
“I did not.” Now he was concerned. “Electra, this is one of many instances when you’re smelling things that aren’t there.”
“I’m not imagining it!”
“I am not saying you are. But there has to be an explanation.” He paused thoughtfully. “I will ring the doctor. Perhaps you are coming down with something.”
Electra never liked to be fussed over. “Gabriel, that isn’t necessary.”
“It would set me at ease.”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Electra turned off the light and shuffled under the covers. He noticed that she was laying on her back, even though she normally preferred her side. She liked to spoon against him. “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the evening you were looking forward to.”
“Is something at work bothering you?” He knew she couldn’t discuss her cases with him, not any more than he could with her. It was one of the landmines in their marriage that they learned to steer around. They tried to make up for the secrets by discovering everything they could about each other, almost like casing a suspect or a house. The way she seemed incapable of closing a cabinet and left hair pins scattered around the house. Her favorite fruit was peaches, freshly picked from the branch, something he discovered on their first visit to Cumberland; the sight of her smiling as juice dribbled down her chin still took his breath away. He knew she curled her fingers in her sleep, that she furrowed her eyebrows during a nightmare.
Electra hesitated. “Nothing unusual. I just feel kind of awful today. It’s like I haven’t slept in ages. Maybe that’s all.”
“I did keep you up last night.”
Even in the dark, he could detect her blush.
“There’s another thing,” she added shyly. “My- my chest- my bosom is sore.”
“Sore?” Now it was Ramsey who turned red. He had been rather passionate the previous night. “Darling, if I hurt you-”
“No, I don’t think that was it.” Electra sighed. “Maybe it is work. I wish I could ask for a break, but we’re so close- never mind. Sleep will help.”
“I still think you should see a doctor,” Ramsey insisted. He made up his mind the next morning, when he woke up to an empty bed and the sound of retching in the bathroom. He rushed in to find Electra hunched over the sink, rinsing her mouth and looking haggard.
“I’m calling Dr. Simmons.”
“Gabriel, I told you it isn’t necessary,” she argued, but the queasy look on her face said otherwise.
“I am telephoning him right now. Bed, now.” He took on the clipped bossiness of an officer, and Electra decided to obey. She finished washing up and crawled back into bed.
Dr. Simmons arrived, hastily (and rather sloppily, Ramsey observed) dressed. The major had practically shaken him out of bed. Ramsey paced the hall outside the bedroom while the doctor carried out his examination. He thought about having Betts send up a tray of tea, but considering how Electra reacted the last time, it didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Chin up,” Betts said as she passed through. “I have a feeling this isn’t as bad you think it is.”
“Is there anything in the kitchen that might have been compromised?” he couldn’t help but ask her. “A cut of meat, perhaps, that began to turn?”
Betts looked offended. “I may not be perfect, but I should say I run a clean kitchen!” With that she marched back downstairs, leaving Ramsey awkwardly standing alone.
The doctor emerged from the bedroom with a stupid grin on his face. “Major, I believe-"
“What is her condition?” Ramsey rudely interrupted. “Is it treatable?”
Dr. Simmons chuckled. “I believe a congratulations is in order. I’ve taken a urine sample to confirm it, but I have good reason to believe that Mrs. Ramsey is expecting.”
Expecting. It took a few seconds for the major to decode what that meant. “You mean-“
“Expecting a child. Of course, we won’t know for sure until the test, but based on her symptoms, she is suffering from morning sickness and an acute sense of smell. It should go away after the first trimester, but you’ll have to watch what she eats. Certain smells and foods can set her off.”
Ramsey still took a long time to process it.
“Is my wife alright?” he finally asked after a protracted silence.
“Fit as a fiddle, even if she may not feel like it.”
Ramsey nodded. His emotions were a storm, and he kept his face carefully neutral. “Thank you, Dr. Simmons,” he said, retreating into protocol. “Ask Mrs. Betts for tea, if you like.
“I’ll send the test results over when they’re ready. Shouldn’t be more than a day or two.” Simmons had attended Ramsey for years. He knew the man’s habits, and he knew how formality was his refuge when emotions ran high.
Ramsey immediately went into to see his wife. Electra was sitting on the bed in her dressing gown, looking very small and quiet. He didn’t know how to approach her. Children were one of those abstractions meant for after the war.
After the war, we’ll travel around the world. We’ll go back to Lisbon. Egypt. Italy. Paris. We’ll make love in the Ritz and walk along the River Seine. I’ll teach you French, all the useful phrases as well as the inappropriate ones.
After the war, we’ll have so much more time on our hands. We can go dancing at night. We’ll drive up to the seashore and go swimming as often as you like. We’ll go horseback riding. We'll visit my family in Cumberland, and I'll show you how my childhood haunts.
After the war, we can plant flowers instead of vegetables in the Victory Garden. And we’ll watch them grow. Our children with the flowers.
“Are you well?” he asked. She winced at how formal his tone was.
“I know we planned to wait,” she said nervously, “and we both took precautions, but clearly, they didn’t work. Not to mention there’s a war on, so we’re both busy. It’s not ideal, I can understand why you’d be upset-”
Gabriel closed the distance between them with a step and covered her mouth with his. His large warm hands ran up and down her back. Electra slid off the bed, and they were both on their knees on the floor. One of his hands tangled in her mess of black curls. When they came up for air, Gabriel buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. They swayed like slow dancers for a while.
It took Electra a moment to realize her shoulder was wet. Her husband was crying.
“Are- are you alright?” she asked gently. He lifted his head and wiped his nose.
“Never better,” he managed. His eyes that she so loved were the color of a sky just greeted by the sun. “And you? Are you happy?”
In truth, Electra’s feelings were murky. It was terribly ironic; she was the one who was good as flouting the rules and making it up as she went, but the surprise rocked her. She sometimes daydreamed about boys with blonde hair and green eyes roughhousing like Colm and Toby used to, but those were for someday. She thrived on her work, the excitement of spying and contributing to the war effort. Even after Hitler was defeated, she wanted a career.
More than that, she had no idea how to raise a baby. Her parents were robbed of the chance. Uncle Mick and Nacy gave her a wonderful childhood, despite a tragic past and limited budget, but Electra doubted she had an ounce of their patience or wisdom. It was one thing to expose Nazi spy rings; it took was quite another to be responsible for a human being. For life.
“Darling?” Gabriel’s smile disappeared, but he kept his face carefully neutral.
“I’m scared,” she admitted, knowing she could trust him. “I don’t know what it all means.”
“Do you not want…”
“I’m keeping it,” she hastily added. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I have all these things inside me. It’s like- like soup, all mixed in together.” Not her best simile, but accurate to how she felt. It would take time, she supposed, for her emotions to settle and separate.
Gabriel nodded. “I see.”
Electra kept going. “I’ve always wanted children. But I also want to work. I want to keep contributing. And there’s a war on, and I don’t want to bring a baby into a world where bombs are falling from the sky. And besides…” Her breath hitched. “I don’t know if I’d be a good mother.”
His face relaxed into the tenderest expression she’d ever seen. “You’d be the best mother.” He brushed a stray curl from her face. “You’re kind, brave, smart. You don’t ever give up on anyone, no matter how hopeless it seems. There’s no one else I’d want to be mother to my children.”
Electra nearly swooned, but the knot in her stomach remained.
“And work? How would I manage with a baby?”
“We could always hire a nanny.”
“No Gabriel.” She hadn’t meant to sound so firm, but a protective jolt surged through her. “If I’m having this baby, I’m raising it myself.”
“We will be raising it,” he corrected, bristling. Electra knew he’d grown up with nannies and turned out perfectly fine. And maybe someone to mind the child for a few hours while she was at work wouldn’t be awful (although she suspected Mick and Nacy would babysit for free).
She gently cupped his face. “There’s nothing wrong with getting a nanny, but I want to be the one that puts them to sleep and changes their diapers. I want to hear their first words. Slip pennies under their pillows when they lose a tooth.”
The images suddenly became so real that they felt like a vision. She blinked and realized her eyes were moist. Gabriel brushed a tear away with his thumb before kissing her on the mouth, slow and gentle.
“You’re not alone, Electra,” he said when he pulled back. “I’m not-” He swallowed. “I won’t lie and say I don’t have reservations. I do. But I promise that whatever happens, whatever our lives or the world looks like, I will be there for you and our child.” A mischievous glint entered his eyes. “As Uncle Mick would say, I’m in if you’re in.”
It was more than she could ever ask for. Electra kissed him again, and for the first time, she felt a flicker of joy cutting through the mess of her feelings. It didn’t erase the fear or doubt but coexisted right alongside them. Like Hope in Pandora’s Jar, she thought.