Waverly/Wilson Family Drama wip
The porch door creaked open for the third time in twenty minutes, and Ellen didnât bother turning to see who it was.
She sat in one of the weathered teak chairs that lined the edge of the deck of the Aspen Lodge, a mug cooling between her palms. Beyond the railing, the Maryland woods stretched in every directionâdogwoods, pines and maples turning steadily with the season, their leaves already deep in amber, red and gold. The late afternoon sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out toward her.
Camp David was quiet the way few places ever were. No motorcades. No press pool. Just the layered stillness of forest and wind and a long drive that led nowhere the public could reach.
It shouldâve been peaceful.
Theyâd only just arrived a few hours agoâher parents, her brother, Larryâs entire family. All of them stepping onto the grounds like it was a reunion, like it wasnât also a reckoning. The house had good bonesâwood-paneled halls, stone fireplaces, oversized leather armchairsâbut none of it could muffle the tension simmering beneath polite conversation.
It was one thing to have come out, to face the world with the truth of who she was. But thisâthis was a family still trying to catch up. Still trying to fit pieces together that didnât quite match anymore. And here they all were, playing house in the woods, pretending everything could still be the same.
Ellen stared out into the woods, feeling the weight of every branch and leaf. What had she been thinking? Inviting them all here, together, in the wake of everything? Maybe she had hoped the controlled setting would ease the tension, that the serene surroundings of Camp David could somehow soften the raw edges of what they were all facing. Maybe, in some corner of her mind, she thought that a weekend away would give them the time they needed to processâtime to let the truth sink in, even if it wasnât the truth they expected. Or wanted.
Larry had been anxious, and sheâd understood why. They both knew they couldnât avoid the fallout any longer. Their coming out had upended so many assumptions, shattered illusions of who they were in their familiesâ eyes, the countryâs eyes.
If they were going to survive the court of public opinionâif she was going to survive the attacks from Congress, from her own partyâthey needed this. She needed her family to understand, to be on her side. Without that, everything else was just noise. Because if she couldnât get them to stand with her, how could she ask a whole country to?
So, they were committed to honesty. No lies. Theyâd promised themselves that. No more. Even if it meant facing the discomfort, the awkwardness, the questions and the silences that stretched too long.
That was all she could offer themâthe chance to see who she really was, even if they couldnât immediately accept it.
The porch behind her gave a small groan of weightâsomeone stepping out. Again. Still, Ellen didnât turn.
âItâs getting cold,â came a voice behind her.
She exhaled, a thin stream of steam rising with her breath. âIâm aware.â
The mug was more prop than warmth now, but she kept it in her hands. She hadnât asked for company. But she also hadnât told anyone to leave her alone.
âI thought you might want something stronger than coffee,â the voice added.
This time, she glanced over her shoulder.
Janet stood behind her with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, two short glasses in the other. She raised an eyebrow like it was a question but didnât wait for an answer before taking a seat next to Ellen.
âI figured if weâre all going to pretend this is a normal weekend, we might as well drink like it is,â she said, setting the glasses down on the table between them.
Ellen gave the smallest nod, grateful without showing much of it. Janet poured them each a finger of bourbon and handed one over.
They sat in silence for a moment, the kind that didnât need to be filled.
âI always wondered,â Janet said eventually. âAbout you and Larry.â
Ellen didnât look at her, but her jaw tightened slightly.
âI didnât know, not really. But⌠I mean. Come on,â Janet continued, her tone light but not flippant. âYou were Ellen Waverly. Youâreâwhat did my mom used to say? âToo impressive by half.ââ
âAnd Larry,â Janet went on, âLarry is⌠Larry. Brilliant, kind, terrible dresser. He blushes when someone says âundergarments.â I love him, fiercely. But I always had this sense about him. This sense that the two of you were more like⌠college roommates that got along well enough to make it work.â
Ellen huffed a quiet laugh, her fingers drumming against the tumbler. âYouâre not wrong,â she said, eyes still on the glass. âWe were roommates. Best friends, really. Oddly good together, just not like that.â
Janet shifted in the chair beside her, crossing one ankle over as she took a slow sip, then rested the glass on her thigh.
âDid he ever have anyone?â she asked, her gaze fixed somewhere out past the trees. âLike that?â
Ellen swirled her own drink, the amber liquid catching a glint of the low sun. âYou should probably ask Larry that.â
âI would,â Janet said, âbut have you seen him today? His eyebrows are practically grafted to his scalp. He looks like heâs waiting to be audited.â
That pulled a soft snort from Ellen. She tilted her head slightly, the faintest trace of amusement flickering across her face.
âI just want him to know he can talk to me,â Janet said. âItâs not like I need names and dates. Just⌠context.â
Ellen nodded. âHeâs never really wanted to find the one. But heâs never been short on company.â
Janet took another sip, then let the glass settle again. âYeah. That tracks. Heâs always been the kind of person who could build a whole life out of the parts he liked⌠and quietly ignore the rest.â
Ellen gave a quiet hum of agreement and took a sip from her own glass, the bourbon warming her throat. âThatâs definitely one way to describe him,â she said, the corner of her mouth lifting.
âWhat about you? Did you ever have anyone?â Janet asked, her voice casual but with a hint of gentle curiosity, as if she was asking about a favorite book, not a cornerstone of someoneâs life.
Ellenâs eyes dropped to her glass. The corners of her mouth twitched involuntarilyâa smile she had no intention of letting out. Of course there had been someone. There had always been someone, someone who mattered more than anyone else. The only woman who ever made her feel like everything fit, everything made sense. And for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to talk about Pam. To say her name, to spill every good thing, to let it pour out like she'd been waiting years to tell someone.
But not yet. She cleared her throat and smoothed the expression from her face. That part of the story was coming. Just not tonight.
She took a slow sip of her drink, then set it down with deliberate calm. âWe should probably head inside,â she said.
Janet eyed her for a beat, then pushed herself out of her chair with a quiet grunt, taking her tumbler with her. âYeah, I did leave Craig with your mom when I came out here.â
Ellen raised an eyebrow. âOh, he didnât deserve that. I thought you actually liked him?â
âI do,â Janet said, offering her hand to help Ellen up. âAfter you, Madam President.â
Ellen took it with a soft laugh, rolling her eyes. âLetâs go save your husband.â
She brushed her hand down the front of her jacket, gave the woods one last look, then turned toward the door. The porch creaked again behind them as they stepped insideâback to the noise, back to questions, back to family.