What Is A Legacy?

Chapter Twenty-Six

 Shortly after his statement was taken, Thomas was finally discharged from the hospital with strict orders to rest. At that, he'd nearly groaned. He'd gotten enough rest to last him two months. James Madison came by in carriage to take him home, and Thomas was grateful for it. His friend's work always kept him busy, leaving him with little time to come and visit.

"I see you're doing well," the man commented as Thomas was helped into the carriage. His arm had been loosely slinged, as the wound had been healing well and nearly scabbed over.

Thomas made himself comfortable. "I feel good," he replied. "Really good."

"Hopefully Washington allows you to return to your work soon." Madison slid into the seat in front of him. The carriage rolled forwards, and away from the hospital, a sight that Thomas was grateful for. "I think Congress is eager for you to write again, and I know you certainly are."

"Ah, you and I both know that I won't be allowed to work for at least another month," Thomas told him. "Washington specifically told me to not even pick up a pen while I'm at home."

"That's understandable," James said. "You have to focus on getting your strength back." He gestured to Thomas' arm. "You probably wouldn't even be able to pick up a pen with that hand."

 "How dare you." Thomas laughed. "And for your information, I started physical therapy a week ago. I don't think I'm that weak."

"And I'll be sure to check that you're keeping up with those." He raised an eyebrow.

Thomas groaned. "Please tell me Washington didn't put you up to that."

"His exact words were 'Make sure Jefferson is consistent with his recovery, or I'll see to it that he'll be on leave longer.' I'm pretty sure he wasn't joking."

He rolled his eyes. "Ever since I came back from France, it's like he's chained me to his wrist and won't let me go." At that, James chuckled.

"I don't think he'll keep you chained down for too long, my friend. He's a busy man as well."

"And that's all well and good, but I don't think I need my hand to be held." Nothing in his voice was malicious or hateful, but rather light annoyance. Nothing could quench his joy of going home, and he wished the carriage would take him there quicker.

But sitting with a friend wasn't so bad. It gave him and James time to truly catch up with one another, and it felt familiar. Familiar was something that was rare now, and he welcomed any moment where he could feel like his old self.

And when he pulled up his estate, he was shocked to see Eliza and Alexander standing by his front steps, with a fidgeting Philip being restrained by Eliza.

"Ah, I see you have visitors." James masked his surprise at the sight of Thomas' political rival as he opened the carriage door to let Thomas out.

Thomas clasped his friend's arm in his hand. "Thank you for driving me here. I'll write tomorrow, as there will probably be nothing else for me to do." His friend chuckled at that, and bid him farewell as he stepped down from the carriage.

"Mr. Thomas!" he heard Philip squeal.

Once Thomas' feet hit the gravel, the boy succeeded at escaping his mother's grasp, much to Eliza's horror. "Philip Alexander!" she cried, but Thomas didn't care. He had dropped to one knee just in time for Philip to crash into his chest, arms wrapping around his neck. His shoulder groaned in response to the impact, but Thomas ignored it, relishing in the contact with Philip. After eight months of not seeing him, a little pain wasn't going to ruin this moment.

"Hey, Philip," he said, using his good arm to hug the boy close to him.

"Hi, Mr. Thomas," Philip replied, and pulled away a little to look at him. "You were gone for a long time!" His gaze fell on Thomas' sling, and his brow creased in confusion. "What happened?"