Through It All

Baggage

Eventually the day came to meet Marty and although Irene wasn't sure why she had felt guilt, nervousness, and anxiety leading up to it. When she arrived at the restaurant, she was seated with Clint and Paul seated only a table away. After only a few minutes, Marty strolled in, "Hi there!"
"Hello," Irene said feeling a knot in her stomach.
"How are ya?"
"I'm good and you?"
"I'm wonderful. I have good news?"
"What might that be?"
"I'm moving here!"
"What?" Irene nearly shrieked, but restrained herself.
"Yessum, I was offered a job as a translator for the politicians and such."
Irene's jaw nearly dropped, "Well then. I suppose I ought to tell you something. I'm the daughter of the President."
"Jack Kennedy's kid? Isn't she really young?"
"I'm his oldest daughter. I'm his daughter, but not actually Jackie's. Irene Fitzgerald Kennedy-O'Hara at your service."
"That's one hell of a name," Marty commented.
"I'm sorry. I should've told you when I met you."
"It's alright, but Irene?"
"Yes?"
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about ya since I met ya."
Irene sighed and then replied quietly, "Me either. You see, I lost my husband-"
"I know. I read about him... Tom O'Hara?"
Irene smiled at the mention of his name, "That's him and I have four kids. I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing here. I can't-" she cut off beginning to stand as Marty grabbed her hand.
"Irene, we've all got a wee bit of baggage."
"Marty, I don't have a wee bit of baggage. I have a whole damn truckload."
Marty reached into his pocket, "Alright, looky here," he held up a picture, "This is my daughter Bridget. Her mother died during childbirth. I've been raising her on my own for two years."
Irene smiled, "She's beautiful. Probably just like her mother was."
"She is," Marty agreed, "Now, may we order?"
"We sure can," Irene said sitting back in her seat.