Reconnections (story) lyrics

I STOOD OUTSIDE THE Hamiltons’ house nervously, Frances Eleanor by my side. I had gotten her from Patsy the same night the battle had been resolved, and now I was taking her to come live with me and Alexander.
Frances Eleanor looked much differently than I thought she would. She had light brown hair that was long and flowy, but black eyes, angry with the world and confused by everything. Even if she was only six, she looked so much older, almost thirteen, and it scared me how grownup she seemed. I supposed it was because of the death of Martha and having to deal with so many things in my absence. It pained me to think that this was the reason behind her looks.
It was a few weeks after the Battle of Combahee River. I had sent Alexander a reply to his most recent letter and told him that we were coming to live with him and Elizabeth and Philip. He had agreed happily, even encouraging us. I had been overjoyed at the news, smiling all day after I had heard. It felt like I was walking on a cloud, and for once I felt like I was living a dream.
Frances Eleanor, though, was not as excited. She only stood in front of the door with her arms crossed stubbornly, held tightly to her chest. She wore a scowl on her pretty face, her eyes half-lidded as if bored. She probably was.
I remembered telling her about Philip. I had told her that it would be like having a younger brother, and since he was only a few months old she’d be able to care for him just like her mother had when she gave birth to her. She’d only turned away from me, and I could tell there were tears in her eyes from the way her nose sniffled when she inhaled. Maybe she was thinking about how I wasn’t there for her. Maybe she was thinking about how Martha was dead. Maybe she was thinking about both. Whatever had crossed her mind, I felt awful. I tried to comfort her, but she had only pushed me away and ran upstairs to her room.
“Hey,” I told her now, bumping my shoulder into hers with a little smile, “what’s the matter? Aren’t you excited?”
She shook her head.
I smiled wider, trying again. “What don’t you like about it? I already told you that Alexander is a friend of mine from the war and that he’d be very nice towards us. And besides, Shrewsberry will be arriving with the rest of our things shortly, and you’ll have another person to play with.”
Still, Frances Eleanor scowled, her arms never uncrossing themselves. She remained quiet. Then: “I don’t like the baby.”
I suppressed a laugh. “The baby? You mean Philip?”
She wasn’t laughing; she stared in front of her, biting her lip. It was beginning to curl angrily, though I wasn’t sure why. “Yeah, I guess,” she said. Her voice sounded annoyed, exasperated.
I sighed, running my hand over my face. Alexander, if he ever even talked about his son, made parenting sound so easy, almost like if you cracked a joke and gave your child attention then they would love you forever. So what was I doing wrong with Frances Eleanor?
Slowly, I composed myself, trying to seem happy for her. “Hey, he’ll be fine. Remember what I told you?”
Frances Eleanor didn’t answer my question. She just remained silent, expression not wavering. Tension clung to the air like a fog, making me extremely uncomfortable. Finally, she spoke up.
“How’d you get that scar?”
I choked on my own spit. Out of all the times she had to ask this question, she had to ask now, right when I was going to see my lover for the first time in a year. I didn’t feel like answering, and so I played it dumb. “What scar?”
Finally, Frances Eleanor laughed, but it was more mocking and mean than anything. “You can’t play stupid with me, Laurens.”
Laurens. She didn’t even see me as a father-figure. I felt sad, bit my lip, trying to make sure I wouldn’t cry.
“Well, I had a girlfriend while I was in Geneva, and a man murdered her right in front of me. But I had witnesses, and then they came out and dragged him back to the authorities.”
“I don’t see anywhere in those sentences where you get that scar,” Frances Eleanor stated.
I sighed angrily. “I am not finished, Frances Eleanor. Anyways, he was able to escape the men, and then he attacked me. That’s how I got the scar.”
I thought my daughter would at least give me some sympathy about Mary; instead she rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” was all she said before finally knocking on the Hamiltons’ door.
Slowly, a woman opened the door. She had almost black eyes just like Frances Eleanor’s and chestnut brown hair done up in a modest, messy bun. She looked kind just by the smile she gave us, and her outfit—a pretty, baby blue gown with puffy sleeves, a square neckline, and a navy blue empire waist—showed how humble she could be.
“Hello,” she said. Her voice was nice and soft, matching her looks. “What do you need?”
I bent down low, taking the woman’s hand and pressing a kiss to her skin. When I came back up, Frances Eleanor was making gagging sounds just like I had when I was her age.
“Miss, my name is John Laurens, and this is my daughter, Frances Eleanor. I believe this is the Hamilton residence, am I correct?”
The woman nodded, her smile wide and kind, almost candid. “John Laurens, I’ve heard many things about you!”
I grinned. “I do hope they’re all good things.”
She laughed. “Yes, yes, they are. My husband is a good friend of yours, and he tells our son stories of you every night. He calls them Laurie stories, and that’s the only word he can speak.” The woman laughed again before composing herself. “And yes, this is the Hamilton residence.”
“So I believe it is safe to assume that you are the famed Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton?”
“Yes, yes, but please, do call me Eliza. Elizabeth makes me sound old, and having a child already makes me feel old.” She bent down so that her face was level with Frances Eleanor’s. “I haven’t heard much about you from my husband’s stories, though.”
“Laurens doesn’t talk about me much,” was Frances Eleanor’s hesitant reply. She hid every part of her face besides her eyes behind her folded arms.
Elizabeth looked slightly uncomfortable at my daughter using my surname. Thankfully, she didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Frances Eleanor. You look just like your father: very handsome.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
Frances Eleanor didn’t respond in the way I thought. She only uttered, “I like her,” before just waltzing into the house like she owned the place.
Elizabeth laughed before turning to me. “Rocky relationship?” she asked under her breath so that my daughter—who was looking at the grandfather in the hallway with eyes wide in awe—wouldn’t hear.
I nodded slowly, my lips pursed together.
She gave me a tiny smile. It was sympathetic, and it matched her eyes, so soft. “If you ever want any advice on how to change that, you can always come to me.”
I nodded again, and this time I gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you very much. I’m sure I’ll do that.”
Even if my voice was soft, I felt almost annoyed by her. Something about her, how she was so sweet, made me feel on edge. Maybe it was because she was Alexander’s wife, the person who took my only lover away from me. But I knew I shouldn’t ponder it any longer, for a voice came from inside the house.
“Eliza? Who’s at the door?”
The voice, it was so familiar. So clear, so beautiful. It sounded almost like a song that only the most talented singer could ever sing, and only the Angels could nail. My legs turned to mush just to hear it in the air, and I bit my lip anxiously, my foot tapping against the floor repeatedly. It could only be—
Alexander appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He looked pretty much the same from the last time I saw him, only a few more creases were in his forehead and I could swear he had gained more freckles. His wavy russet hair had grown a little more straight, but his violet eyes—so beautiful, so enchanting—still had the same effect on me; it still felt like I was drowning.
Immediately, his eyes widened at the sight of me. His mouth went ajar, and I watched as his hands twitched at his sides. I could tell he was just like me—resisting the urge to kiss him.
Knowing well that we couldn’t do that, the two of us just stood there, staring at each other, taking the sight of each other in. Finally, he made the first move. He ran to me, arm outstretched, and I almost was caught off-guard when I was embraced in the warmest hug.
I melted into his touch. It felt so good, having him around me. This was what I had been waiting for for over a year. This was what I was willing to die for. And I loved it. I loved it so much.
Slowly, my arms wrapped around his back, returning the embrace. “Alex…” I mumbled into his shoulder, a smile spreading over my lips.
He pulled away, but not fully, so that his hands rested on my shoulders and his face was level with mine. “It’s been too long, John. You don’t know how many times I’ve despaired of ever seeing your face again over the past year.”
I only laughed, punching him the arm playfully. “C’mon, you had Elizabeth.” Wiggling my eyebrows suggestively, smirking like a teenager all over again, I added, “Surely you couldn’t be bored.”
Alexander chuckled before he took his hands from my shoulders and walked away from me and toward Frances Eleanor. Her attention had turned away from the grandfather clock to our reunion, but now that my lover was walking over to her, she became nervous just like she had with Elizabeth.
He squatted down so that his face was level with hers, smiling warmly. “So you must be Frances Eleanor? It’s nice to finally meet you, and I was most sorry to hear about your mother.”
It made my heart melt just to see it. Alexander acted so warmly around my daughter, treating her so kindly, smiling and speaking softly to her. It made me think that this would be my life with Alexander if our feelings weren't illegal. If we were allowed to marry and have our own child and raise it as our own. The mere idea of it sounded like a far away fantasy, something too good to be true, but I had a sense that it would come to be one day long after my death; everything that needed to be done would come to existence, even if it was long overdue.
Frances Eleanor only nodded. “Mother loved me,” she said weakly. I could tell tears were beginning to fall from her eyes. “Laurens doesn’t.”
Alexander shook his head. “No, he does, Frances Eleanor. He loves you with all of his heart. Why else would he have you?”
Alexander knew that what he was saying was lies; I never wanted her. It was a one-night stand, a mistake. It was supposed to act as a cure for my feelings; instead it only made them stronger and left me with a child and wife I had never asked for in the first place.
My daughter only shrugged, sniffing and wiping her nose with her sleeve. “’Dunno,” she answered. At least that was something.
My lover nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. “He loves you, Frances Eleanor, and you best never forget that.” He then stood up and turned to me. “Frances Eleanor gets the first guest room, you get the second one.” He gave me a smile, clapping his hands as his gaze dipped to something by my feet. He asked, “Now, are those all of your bags?”
I nodded before shaking my head. “Yes and no,” I said.
Frances Eleanor rolled her eyes. “God, you can’t even answer a simple question, can you?”
I ignored her and continued to answer. “Shrewsberry will be here in a week’s time with the rest of our things. And I suppose it’ll be all right if he sleeps in Frances Eleanor’s room.”
Alexander nodded, but Frances Eleanor stomped her foot, face going red with anger. “Laurens, why?”
“Because, sweet girl, it’ll be good since he can keep an eye on you and comfort you if you have a bad nightmare. He’d do that with me when I was younger.”
Frances Eleanor huffed, annoyed. “That means he’s older, too, if he did that when you were young.”
I shook my head. “No, he’s my age.”
“So that means that you were a baby when you were younger and he was much more mature.”
I ignored her once again. Turning to Alexander, I stated simply, “Please, just bring the bags upstairs.”
Alexander nodded. “Most certainly,” and with that I walked up with him to my room. I grinned, knowing what exactly might happen.
When we got to the room, Alexander set the bags down before turning around and closing the door, locking it. He then turned back to me, a grin splitting his face. He grabbed me by the sides of my head and pulled me into a kiss.
It was sweet and soft, but I loved it nonetheless. This was what I had been waiting for for so long. This is what I needed to feel. This was all I needed.
When he pulled away, he was smiling widely. His eyes looked so happy, and he pressed his forehead to mine. “Oh, God, John, I love you so much. You… Lord… I missed you so much.”
I smiled too. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and I wanted more than anything to stay like that for the rest of my life. It felt so good to be back with him, to be his even with Elizabeth and Philip still living with us.
“I love you so much more, Alex. You’re so beautiful, so talented—I could never do what you do.”
He only grinned. “Well, I was hoping that you’d help me at my law office, but if you don’t want to you don’t have to.”
I shook my head, the smile never leaving my face. How could it when I was in the presence of such beauty? “No, no, I’ll join you. Besides, we’ll get to have more time together.”
“And, speaking of that, I need to leave you. After all, putting bags in rooms doesn’t take this long, now does it?”
I shook my head in defeat. “No, it doesn’t.” I pecked his lips quickly before adding, “Love you.”
“Love you too.” And with that he walked out of the room.