Work Text:
December 3, 1949
Daniel’s fingers fumble the silk tie. How many times in his life has he done this? A hundred? A thousand? But when he leans forward to inspect the knot at his throat in the mirror, it’s crooked. He sighs. He tells himself he’s been in California too long as he loosens the tie. He’s out of practice, that’s all.
(But he knows better. It’s the memory of getting ready for another wedding in this very bathroom that’s tripping him up. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Thomas, teasing his brother as they’d slicked their curls into submission. It feels like a lifetime ago now.)
“Let me do it.”
Daniel has to flatten himself against the sink to make room in the cramped bathroom for his very pregnant wife. “Peggy,” he says, ducking around her bulging belly to kiss her cheek, “you should be resting.”
It doesn’t escape his notice that she’s wearing a festive tea-length emerald green dress, though she’d sworn up and down when the package from Howard’s seamstress arrived that she had no use for holiday maternity frocks, as she intended to have this baby well before Christmas, thank you very much.
Peggy tugs on the wide end of her husband’s necktie. “Daniel Sousa,” she says, threat implicit as she executes a perfect four-in-hand, “if you think you’re leaving me in this house alone – ”
“I won’t leave until Mãe and Isabel get back,” Daniel promises, reaching for his wife’s left hand and lifting it to his mouth. For weeks now, she’s had to wear her wedding band on a chain around her neck. But before he can kiss her swollen ring finger, Peggy wrenches her hand away.
“ – with your mother and sister while you attend this wedding, it’ll be up to you to explain to our child why Daddy sleeps on the couch,” she finishes, hands on her hips.
Daniel has to tell himself she wouldn’t really banish him to the living room for the rest of their marriage. “Peggy,” he says lightly, “you’re supposed to be taking it easy, remember? Doctor’s orders.”
She clucks her tongue. “It’s a wedding. How much standing could there be?”
“Clearly you’ve never been to Catholic mass,” Daniel mutters, though he knows he’s fighting a losing battle.
“Well, then, that settles it,” says Peggy, “if I do go into labor, I’ll be in a room full of women who know what to do.” They’re standing so close he can feel it when the baby kicks. She grimaces. “Tell your child to stop dancing on my bladder.”
Daniel can’t help himself. “Can I?” he asks. Peggy rolls her eyes, but she nods. His hands slide over her belly. “Why is she always my child when she’s kicking you?”
Peggy winces as a little foot catches her in the ribcage. “Because,” she grits, “I’m pretty sure he saves his somersaults for you. Now get out so I can use the loo before we go.”
And she shoves Daniel out into the hallway.
“Mãe’s going to skin me alive,” he mutters, but he goes out to start the car.
Of course, the drive to St. Elizabeth’s takes longer than he remembers, and there’s no parking anywhere near the church. Daniel circles the block three times before he accepts he’s not going to find anything closer. He pulls up to the curb, the glow of the street lamp reflecting off the sheet of solid ice on the sidewalk. “Unless you’d rather I dropped you at the door,” he says nervously.
Peggy snorts. “I won’t know a soul inside, Daniel. I’d rather walk in together if it’s all the same to you.”
But she does a poor job hiding her worry as he shuffles through the snow to open the car door for her. Daniel grips his crutch tighter, knuckles turning white as he limps along after her, hand hovering at the small of her back.
“Dan -iel,” Peggy complains.
He doesn’t mean to snap at her. “I’m allowed to worry, you know,” he says angrily. “You’re my wife, and you’re pregnant.” Immediately, a lump wells in Daniel’s throat. If Thomas were here, he thinks, he’d take a swing at you for raising your voice at your wife. He swallows. “I’m sorry, Peg,” he murmurs. “It’s just – ”
“You miss your brother,” she supplies, catching his hand and placing it over her navel. He closes his eyes. “I can understand that a little.”
Daniel breathes in. “Peggy – ”
“Why do you think I insisted on coming tonight, my love?” she murmurs, cupping his cheeks in her hands. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
By the time they get to the church, Father Silvia is halfway through the opening prayer. Daniel helps Peggy slide into the very last row, steadfastly ignoring the glares they get as latecomers. He gingerly lowers himself into the seat next to her, not entirely sure what to do with his crutch. If he rests it against the end of the pew, it might get knocked over. No, best hang onto it, just in case.
The place is packed – Daniel doesn’t remember Thomas and Eva’s wedding being quite so well-attended. Then again, there had been a war going on. Now the pews are filled with young families. It occurs to Daniel that he and Peggy will have a baby with them when they come up for Richard’s wedding in the spring. He wraps an arm around his wife and looks for Eva at the front of the church.
His brother’s widow is seated next to her husband-to-be, ivory veil obscuring her pretty features. Daniel feels his chest tighten.
“All rise.”
Daniel struggles to his feet.
Up, down. Stand. Sit. Kneel. Next to him, Peggy fidgets as Eva and Joseph exchange vows.
“Stop it,” she admonishes, jabbing Daniel with her elbow in the middle of the nuptial blessing.
Daniel waits until everyone has started to sing. “What’d I do?” he whispers back. At the altar, Father Silvia breaks the Eucharistic bread.
“Not you, the baby. He won’t stop kicking – oh, for heaven’s sake, not again,” Peggy hisses as the assembly kneels. Before she can scoot off the pew, however, Daniel throws his arm out to stop her.
“Just stay seated,” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, willing his prosthetic knee to bend. “It’s fine.”
“You know,” Peggy says fondly once he’s hauled himself back onto the pew, “you could follow your own advice.”
Daniel smiles sheepishly. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, kissing her cheek before going up to take communion.
He loses track of her after the ceremony – Peggy’s out of her seat before Father Silvia can say, “Thanks be to God,” urgently whispering, “Daniel, where’s the – ”
“Down the hall, third door on the right,” he supplies, allowing her to squeeze by him. There’s no dashing anywhere in her current condition, but even Peggy’s waddle is surprisingly fast. Daniel watches her slip out, then focuses his attention on the recessional. Eva, beaming, clutches her new husband’s arm as they process out of the church. Joe’s grinning, too, at least until he sees Daniel. Thomas’ friend flushes guiltily.
Daniel figures he better head toward the powder room to wait for Peggy, but he’s waylaid almost immediately, people who haven’t seen him since before the war.
“How’ve you been?”
“California, eh? Must be nice this time of year.”
“We were so sorry to hear about your brother ... ”
“ ... we’re happy for Eva, of course ... ”
“Your mother mentioned you’d married.”
“Is she here, your wife?”
Their eyes flicker to his crutch, but they don’t ask about his leg. “Yes,” Daniel confirms, “Peggy’s here. Actually, I probably should find – ”
“Daniel!”
A few weeks before Thomas’ ship sank off the coast of Okinawa, Eva had taken the train down to Atlantic City to visit Daniel in the hospital. He hadn’t known she was coming, and at first he’d felt self-conscious, lying there with his leg in traction, stump on display for her to see. But she’d put his mind at ease, catching him up on everything that had gone on in Fall River since he left and promising to return, just as soon as she was able.
Then Thomas had died.
Eva never made it back to Atlantic City. Instead of returning to Fall River, Daniel had moved to New York to take the SSR job. They’d exchanged a few letters in the fall of ’45, but the postcard he’d sent her from Los Angeles had gone unanswered. Even though it had been his job to take care of his brother’s widow, he hadn’t written her again. Of course, Daniel thinks as he allows himself to be drawn in for a hug, things would’ve been very different had he come back healthy and whole.
(And in a way, losing his leg had freed him. Freed them both. Because if he hadn’t, Daniel’s sure he’d still be in Fall River, working in the shipyards, probably married to Eva.)
“But what are you doing here?” Eva demands, holding him at arm’s length, their shared history filling the space between them. “I thought you were still in California!”
The last thing Daniel wants to talk about is the dissolution of the SSR. He forces a smile. “Just moved back, actually.”
“Fall River?” she asks eagerly.
“No, New York.” He clears his throat to head off any more questions. “Mãe and Isabel send their best.”
Eva’s face falls. “It was never my intention to cause your family pain.”
“Eva,” Daniel murmurs, “he wouldn’t have wanted you to mourn forever.”
Finally, Eva nods. “Thank you for saying that, Daniel.” She drops his hands. “Now,” she says brightly, “what’s this I hear about you marrying a British girl?”
Over Eva’s shoulder, he sees Peggy shuffling toward them. Daniel holds out his hand. “Eva,” he says, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”