What Is A Legacy?

Chapter Eight

"If this is about what happened at the meeting-" he began, closing the door to avoid the cold breeze. Eliza shrugged her coat off, shaking her head. Her long hair spilled down her back, out of her traditional ponytail. It looked nice.

"You don't need to apologize," Eliza said, surprising him. Thomas knew she wasn't the type of person to just waltz into his house and demand an apology, but he did expect a talking-to for smacking the living daylights out of her husband. But he didn't get as much as a disapproving look from her.

Thomas wasn't going to question it. He shrugged. "I wasn't going to apologize. With all due respect, Alexander deserved it."

And then she surprised him again by agreeing with him. "I know. He knows it too, even though he won't admit it. I wanted to come and apologize on his behalf. He won't do it himself, but he is sorry."

Thomas scoffed. "No, Mrs. Hamilton, he's not." And he sighed. "And don't feel like you're the one who has to apologize. He doesn't deserve that nor should you assume the responsibility."

Eliza shrugged. "I know, but I just felt like you needed to at least hear it. And I am truly sorry. You didn't deserve what Alexander said at that meeting."

"I agree. I didn't deserve to get my skeletons ripped out of my closet, but someone was going to find out eventually, especially if Hamilton knew." Thomas ran his hand through his hair, feeling his frustrations rise again.

Eliza frowned. "Now, that's not fair, Thomas," she said, stepping a little closer. "Don't feel like every detail of your life has to come to light."

Jefferson shrugged. "Maybe not. But I don't understand," he said, "is why Alexander was so determined to expose me like that? What drove him to be so destructive, so malicious? It's not like the death of my family was a secret, but it's certainly not a part of my life the public needs to be reminded of."

Eliza's gaze hardened. "If I knew, I would tell you. I don't understand it either. He's been in a bad mood with everyone ever since the meeting, with the exception of Philip. I've known my husband for a long time, but even I don't understand why he does the things he does. Or why he lets his anger run so unchecked."

Something struck him, something that twisted his stomach. "He doesn't hurt you, does he?" Thomas' eyes narrowed, hoping that it wasn't the case. He might have to give Hamilton another black eye.

"Heavens, no!" Eliza looked surprised, even a little offended. "I know who I married, he's not the type of person to get physical with his family. With other people sure, but definitely not us."

Thomas nodded. "Good. I didn't think that was the case, but I had to make sure."

Eliza steeled herself, then took a breath. "I know you've heard this before, but I did want to say I'm sorry about what happened to your family-"

Although her condolences didn't hurt like all the others had, he didn't want to hear it. He didn't think he could bear to. "You're very kind, Mrs. Hamilton, and I don't mean to be rude, but I don't need to hear how sorry you or anyone else is." He shook his head. "If I had a quarter for every time someone told me how sorry they were, I'd be richer than Washington."

Eliza nodded. "Of course. I don't mean to pull on old wounds."

Thomas nodded his thanks. "If only your husband was the same way." He probably should have dropped the topic-there was no sense in keeping it circulating. But he couldn't just let it go, his anger wouldn't let him.

Eliza tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I know Alexander has a temper and I know it runs unchecked. I know he speaks before he thinks, and if I could change that I would. But I love him for who he is, flaws and all."

Thomas smiled a little at her devotion. "And that is what makes you a good wife. Martha would have liked you." His voice nearly caught at the clear mention of his wife's name, and cleared his throat.

Eliza smiled slightly. "I wish I had gotten to meet her."

"You two would have gotten along. She was fiercely headstrong, but also one of the kindest, most compassionate people I have ever known. And she was a great mother."

"I'm sure she was," Eliza said. "And I'm confident you were a great father."

Thomas cleared his throat. "Thank you. I miss them," he said quietly, after a moment. He felt his eyes sting, vision growing blurry as tears sparked in his eyes, but he kept talking. "Eliza, I can't remember what they look like. I can't remember what they sound like, I can't remember anything. It's only little things, but it hurts more than it should." He lifted his hand to his face, trying to keep from crying. He was surprised at himself, telling all of his woes to Eliza as easily as he had. But he'd kept that horrible thought boarded up within himself for years, and it felt good to finally say it out loud. It pulled painfully on the freshly opened wound in his heart, twisting it sharply, but there was also a strange sense of relief that came with it. He didn't have to carry that horrible thought alone anymore.

"Oh, Thomas." Eliza wrapped her arms around him. There was nothing she could say to help him, nothing she could do to take away the pain. And she knew that and didn't try to say anything. She just stood with him, letting him cry. Thomas had returned the gesture, holding onto her like a lifeline.

He was also surprised at how easily he opened up to Eliza. There was something about her that just made it easy, talking about his family.

"Thank you," he finally said, his voice cracking a little. "For this. It means a lot. And I'm sorry if I-"

"Thomas Jefferson, you have nothing to be sorry about," Eliza told him, stepping away from him. She rested a hand on his arm again. "Sometimes a hug is all you need."

Thomas smiled. "I see you tell Philip that, too."

She returned the smile. "I'm guessing he's told you that."

He nodded. "Remember the party that was held at your house, the one where we celebrated Alexander and Washington's return from a trip?" 

Eliza chuckled. "How can I forget? A cabinet member fell in my mother's punch bowl. I was more angry at him breaking it than the fact he ruined his suit."

Thomas snorted. "Yes, that one. Philip and I escaped the party-or I did, and Philip followed me. He saw I was upset about something, and I told him about my family. Not in detail, mind you, but enough so that Philip knew what happened. He hugged me and told me that you say hugs help."

The mother smiled fondly. "I'm glad Philip was there for you, even though he shouldn't have told his father. Or anyone, for that matter. I'll talk to him tonight."

"No, don't. There's no point, now that everyone's found out."

"Still. I'll talk to him about why he can't go around spreading those things."

"I see I can't stop you, but go easy on him. He's young," Thomas told her.

Eliza smiled. "If you insist." It was quiet for a moment, until she spoke again. "Well, it's getting late. I'd better get home before it gets dark."

The sun was hanging low in the sky, casting a pallet of orange and pink and purple across the horizon. He didn't want her to get caught outside alone when it was pitch black, so he nodded.

"Of course. And thank you. For stopping by. It means a lot."

She nodded, smiling gently. "Have a good night, Thomas. And get some ice for that hand." Her eyes sparkled, and he laughed. "Noted."

And then with a wave and a smile, she left the house.