The hum of a woman playing piano filled the room. Fall air carried them into the outside world, foreign to her. Notes hung in the air, a gentle melody. No one else was home. Silence- apart from the delicate sound of the piano- and her subtle breaths. The brown haired woman glanced at the sheet music, a focused glare on her expression.
The horse's hooves stopped thudding slowly as they approached the living space. A huge grin covered Alexanders face, but so did regret. Unfortunately, he'd been thrown from the Continental army- sent home by Commander George Washington. Last time he'd seen Eliza, she was very fragile and scared looking. Tying the horses leash to a tree, the man hopped off, striding to his door.
Upon opening the door, sweet piano music filled his ears. Alexander's face was filled with joy, he gave a grin. "Betsey," he murmured. "I'm home!" She raced across the floor, sliding to his hands. The two embraced, sobbing from feelings of jubilant happiness.
Eliza looked Hamilton up-and-down. He had become much more muscled and taller since last he'd seen her. "Alexander-" she choked out a few words. "I-I'm pregnant." His gaze lit up, a gentle gleam in his eyes. The ginger paid no mind to his wife's sobbing. In fact, he himself was ecstatic to have offspring.
"Shh, honey," he brushed her chin. "I too haw a surprise." Her expression lit up, no longer somber and upset. Her eyes said it all. He led her by her hand, carefully yet with mild force, outdoors. By their heads were several falling leaves: cardinal-red, lemon yellow, citrus orange, muddy brown, all a jumble of benevolence. Eliza had always loved the fall, now her dearest was returned to her. She was pregnant, pleased, and in her favourite time.
The two sat in their lawn, watching leaves fall to the floor. The leaves gave way to a gateway of charming beauty. Alexander's rough, calloused hand reached over and rest on his wife's belly. The slight bump was a clear sign she was expectant. A squirrel family skittered along by their feet, acorns in their cheeks.
But the best part of the whole experience was what came last. Hands cupped Eliza's body, she was violently ripped into her lover's arms. He kissed her cheek. "My dearest, Betsey," he said. "Why must you cry? Crying is so mot your style. Be happy, you'll be a mother." This brought a smile to her face and the gentle hands of his lover cupped his face.
