𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 ℂ𝕒𝕟'𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝔸𝕨𝕒𝕪 •𝕁𝔽𝕂•

1968 - ᴇᴘɪʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

President Kennedy had a smooth second term after that incident. No more assassination attempts. He did suffer from his back ailments but the term passed by smoother than anticipated.

As for Jack and I, we emerged stronger than ever. Our son, Roger Fitzgerald Kennedy was born in 1966 and he was the light of our lives, so were Caroline, John and Doris.

We pulled up outside our new Georgetown home in our blue Cadillac. Jack was sitting at the driver's side, his sleeves rolled up and his left arm dangling out of the window. I was in the passenger's side, securely holding my one and a half year old baby boy, Roger. The back of the car seemed stuffed. There was Caroline, John and Doris all stuffed back there with our Welsh Terrier, Charlie and our German shepherd, Clipper.

"That was a nice weekend at your grandparents',  wasn't it?" I arranged the rearview mirror so that I could look at my kids in them. They all nodded excitedly and once the car had come to a halt, they pushed open their sides of the doors and ran out, the elder ones running while Doris was on a piggyback with John.

"No running, children!" I screamed but they didn't listen.

"They'll be fine," Jack hummed, turning off the engine. He then leaned forward, sliding his arm over my car seat, his lips close to me. I turned my face in his direction and our lips met briefly and my cheeks turned hot. Jack parted his lips in a hungry way and I let my tongue slide into his mouth, twirling it around with his tongue when suddenly, Roger began to cry.

"Well -" Jack sighed and pulled back, groaning to himself and I started cooing to him, trying to get him to calm down.

"So, now what, vacation's over," I said, throwing open the car door and stepping out of it, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun. I was wearing a floral printed loose dress that was doing nothing to hide my six month old baby bump. As Roger started playing with hair, I walked over to the other side of our car and Jack slid his arm around  the low of my waist, holding me and we walked back inside.

"I guess I'm gonna start working on that book I wanted to write. I'm out of ideas though. What about you ?" He raised an eyebrow and I smiled, placing my free hand with which I wasn't holding Roger to my bump, rubbing it gently, "well apart from giving birth to your child?" He smiled and placed his finger on the fabric of my dress, trailing his index finger on my bump in a teasing manner. "I suppose I'm going to start my own art gallery. You know?"

He smiled and nodded at me, throwing out his hands towards his son who cackled and jumped into his arms.

So, that was that. John Fitzgerald Kennedy wrote a book on PT - 109. Eventually, he became a writer. I gave birth to our fifth child, Rosemary Piper Kennedy, by the end of 1968. I never really started my own art gallery though. I was content being a house wife, waiting for my husband by the door every night, our kids running around all over with our dogs.

My life was finally complete. Ours was a happy family.

***

Thank you for reading my book. ❤️

The End.