Chapter Text
My father wasn't around (my father wasn't around)
I swear that I'll be around for you
I'll do whatever it takes (I'll make a million mistakes)
I'll make the world safe and sound for you
~ Dear Theodosia, Lin-Manuel Miranda
xxx
You have a daughter.
As Harold Hill rushed up the stairs, the joyous words of Mrs. Paroo and Mrs. Moore the midwife were ringing in his ears, drowning out any other possible thought.
He had a daughter, the same precious little child that he’d felt wiggling around in Marian’s belly for months, the same child who’d kicked his hand, who knocked the wind out of her mother all too frequently as she grew - she was his daughter and she was here and somehow, absurdly, she’d been living in the world and breathing air for several minutes now and he hadn’t met her yet.
And Marian, the love of his life, his reason for breathing, had made it through this arduous trial and yet he still wasn’t back at her side. Her labor hadn’t been terribly long and Mrs. Moore had assured Harold that she’d done very well and it had all been routine without the slightest of complications, but he had still been frightened, especially as he’d been forbidden to stay by his wife’s side, instead left to wander aimlessly and pace and pray and think about nothing else.
(Next time they had a child, he was going to be with her to hold her hand and wipe her forehead, convention be damned - well, if she wanted him there, at least, and if the women were at all willing to allow it. But it had been unbearable, hearing his beloved wail in such terrible pain and not being allowed to run to her side!)
From the parlor to the bedroom seemed like the shortest distance in the world and yet the longest, and Harold took the stairs two at a time in order to close that distance as swiftly as humanly possible. He was proud, normally, of his grace and dexterity, but when he finally opened the bedroom door, he nearly tripped over his own feet.
There she was, propped up with a pile of pillows. Marian, beautiful, perfect, healthy, happy Marian, looking more disheveled and exhausted than he’d ever seen her but absolutely glowing with incandescent joy, and in her arms, the softest, sweetest little bundle with an unruly tuft of chestnut hair.
Harold might have skinned his knees like a child with how quickly he knelt down beside the bed.
“My girls,” he whispered, voice all hoarse and tremulous, as he leaned over and covered his wife’s face in kisses and then turned to the infant cradled against her breast, cupped the little head in his hand and marveled at the unfathomable softness of a newborn’s hair. He certainly had never been a man who cried easily, but he could feel his eyes brimming with tears as he beheld his daughter - their daughter - for the very first time. It was almost too much to bear.
“Hello, little darling Charlotte.” He glanced up into Marian’s eyes, his lips twitching with mirth that seemed to naturally overflow from such an excess of happiness. “She is still Charlotte, right? You haven’t decided another name might suit her better now that you’ve gotten to meet her, confer with her a little?”
The musical, effusive laugh that Marian let out might have been the loveliest sound Harold had ever heard, especially considering that the last time he’d heard his wife's voice, she’d been keening with pain that he’d been powerless to relieve. “I think she’s our Charlotte, don’t you?”
“Oh, unmistakably.”
Then there was another sound, the almost inaudible, kittenish little squeak of the newborn as she scrunched up her tiny face and moved her head, and the music professor felt a pang of love so sharp that it might have knocked him to the floor if he weren’t already kneeling down.
Gingerly, he reached a single finger toward Charlotte’s hand, and broke into a brilliant grin when she grasped it, all of her fingers around one of his. She was a tiny, soft, sleepy little being, but her grip was sure and strong, and it fascinated and charmed him.
“Nice meeting you, too!” He bounced his finger up and down so he could “shake hands” with his daughter, and beamed up at Marian, using his other hand to brush the golden locks from her pale cheek.
“She’s so perfect, Marian,” he murmured. “I love you both more than I ever imagined I could love anyone. I’m the happiest man in the world, I mean that.”
He released Charlotte’s hand long enough to shower his wife's cheeks with gentle kisses while she sighed with bliss, and as soon as he pulled back, Marian patted the bed next to her. “Why don’t you come up and join us? Would you like to hold her?”
He wanted both of those things more than anything in the world, but Harold glanced uncertainly toward the doorway, as if one matron or the other might rain down judgment upon him if he made the wrong move. “Is that allowed? I mean, me sitting up there? I wouldn’t want to jostle you too much.”
She laughed, lightly. “Of course it’s allowed. Come, sit by me... I’ve missed you terribly, all this time.”
After he’d kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, he very gingerly slid into place next to Marian, wincing at the slightest motion of the mattress beneath his weight. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he hurried to ask.
“Oh, no, not at all," she was quick to assure him. "You can come a little closer, even. It doesn’t hurt nearly so much as it did, anymore. In fact, it was shocking how quickly the worst of it was all over. And I can breathe properly again, all of a sudden! It’s a very strange feeling.”
When he was seated snugly by her side, Harold held out his arms rather awkwardly as his wife entrusted him, for the very first time, with the child she’d carried all by herself all these long months.
“You know, I’ve never actually held an infant before, or even been very close to one,” he confessed. “No siblings, of course, and no other family to speak of, so I’ve never had a reason to.”
“Just hold your arms like that - always support her head, that’s the most important - see, doesn’t she look perfectly comfortable?”
“Yeah,” Harold whispered, hushed and reverent, gently stroking Charlotte’s hair with his thumb. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything softer in his life, and when he bowed his head to kiss the top of her head, he found that her hair also radiated a sweet, lovely fragrance he hadn’t been expecting. “She’s so very small - yet she’s so big, too, I can scarcely believe that you carried her inside of you!”
“Neither can I,” she answered with a laugh, roses blooming upon her pale cheeks.
“You’re incredible, darling.” Still holding the baby carefully, Harold managed to lean over to plant another kiss on his dear little librarian’s adorable cheek. “I could never do what you did today, or the past nine months. Ah, even if I could, of course,” he added hastily when she regarded him with an amused smile.
“It was all worth it for her.” Marian gazed down at little Charlotte with eyes brimming with maternal love, and Harold felt his heart near to bursting with emotion. It was plainly apparent that Marian was meant to be a mother, and she deserved this more than anyone. He had helped to make another one of her dearest dreams come true, one that he’d much more recently discovered was also his own, and the beauty of it all brought a lump to his throat.
“I always pictured her with blonde hair, if we had a girl,” he murmured as he ran his fingers over the tiny, impossibly-soft chestnut curls. “I sort of - never fully realized that she could look like both of us. She’s got my hair and - your face? Oh, she must have your face, because she’s perfect and beautiful.”
The librarian cast her eyes down, modest but smiling. “Still flattering me, Professor, even in childbed? All babies are beautiful, I think.”
Straightforward and honest, without a hint of guile, Harold replied: “It’s not flattery. She’s the most beautiful, because you are.”
It was rare that he could fully convince Marian of her own perfection, but when she looked up at him again with shining eyes, it seemed that she’d allowed herself to understand the absolute truth in his words.
All at once his heart had somehow expanded - Marian was his entire world, had his entire heart, and now Charlotte was the same, and there was no contradiction between these facts. It was astonishing, the way love grew and grew when one allowed it.
"I can't believe she's real. I mean, ah - of course she's always been real, but to see her, to touch her... she's really here."
Marian laughed softly, leaning against him, "I've carried her all these months, and I still know just what you mean."
The most thrilling part of building a life with Marian had been the wonder of building something real for the first time in his life. A real band, a real home, a real marriage... and now, bundled up in his arms was their most wondrous creation of them all.
“You know, I was thinking - ”
“Mm?”
“As soon as I first looked at her, I felt the way I felt that night when I realized I could never leave you - except different, of course. But similar. When I saw her in your arms, I knew right then, right in that moment, that I would do anything for her. I’d - I’d pull down the moon and give it to her wrapped up with a bow. And before she was born, I already felt that way, but seeing her here, now, it’s almost overwhelming how much I love her. I don’t understand how any man could look at his child and not feel that way.” He wasn’t going to give his father the dignity of a mention on such a joyous and sacred occasion, but he knew his thoughts must have been plain.
Marian gazed up at him, hazel eyes glistening with tears. “See, Harold, I told you that there was nothing to worry about. I told you that you’d know how to be a father.”
Something about that statement made his heart thunder in his chest. He remembered the way she’d looked up at him on that fateful July night, trusting and confident and serene, eyes shining with hope and new love, knowing he could achieve what he’d thought to be impossible. She’d been right then - she’d been right every single time.
Now he was responsible for this precious baby girl they’d made together, for teaching her, guiding her, protecting her, for being the greatest father she could possibly have, and it was an extraordinary responsibility indeed. But he felt a remarkable sense of peace about the prospect. Just as the depth of his love for Marian had made it natural and easy to be a good husband, his deep love for Charlotte, and any other children they would have, would show him the way to being a good father.
Anyway, he had Marian at his side, and with her, he could never fail to be good.
"Maybe parents ought make vows to their children, just like husbands and wives make to each other. Makes sense, doesn't it?" he mused as he stroked Charlotte's dimpled cheek, barely realizing that he was talking aloud. "I promise I’ll do everything I can possibly do to keep you safe and happy, little one. I may not know much about being a father, but for you, I promise I'll learn. I’d do anything in the world for you. And I’ll always be there for you, and I'll always love you with all my heart."
Marian leaned her head against his shoulder with a sweet, blissful sigh. “Oh, Harold, you're just so good, and I love you so very much." She reached over, allowing the baby to grasp her finger. "And I vow all the same things to you, little Charlotte. I'll love you and protect you and teach you everything I know, and I'll never, ever let any harm come to you. I'll teach you to play the piano, just as my mother taught me - oh, unless you don't like it, of course." She giggled, sweet and light and musical, and Harold couldn't refrain from kissing his wife's head, as well.
And then Marian surprised him by lifting her head and capturing his lips with her own in the most sweetly ardent kiss, nearly chaste but not quite. He'd avoided kissing her lips today, having unconsciously decided that surely only kisses to her cheeks and forehead were appropriate under the circumstances, and now she had been the one to initiate an honest-to-goodness kiss. He couldn't quite explain why it surprised him so, but something within his heart settled and warmed at this reminder that, despite their new role as parents, they would still remain husband and wife, too, just as in love as ever. And, though he knew it would be several months before they could even think of rediscovering the passionate side of their marriage, that kiss carried with it a sweet, unspoken promise that one day, as difficult as it was to imagine at this moment, everything between them would be exactly as it had been before.
When they parted, he looked down to see that Charlotte’s eyes were shut tightly, her little rosebud lips moving as she slept, and every little thing she did felt like a miracle beyond belief.
“She’s fast asleep,” Harold murmured.
The librarian nodded as she stroked Charlotte's dark hair. “She tired right out after I fed her. Mama assured me that newborns sleep well, at the very beginning.”
“Good, because you must need to get some sleep, too? Marian, you must be exhausted. I am, and I didn’t even do any of the work!”
As if on cue, Marian yawned, eyelids visibly heavy. “It’s hard to imagine taking my eyes off her, but - ”
“But you need to get your rest. Darling, I can’t imagine what it was like for you today, no man could, and it drove me crazy knowing that there was nothing I could have done to help you. But I promise to do everything I can to help you and take care of you now.”
"You're right, of course." She let her head fall back against the pillow, gazing at him with deep, warm affection as her mussed blonde curls fanned out around her head. "I had better sleep while she sleeps!"
So, with the help of Mrs. Paroo and Mrs. Moore, sweet little Charlotte was nestled away in her bassinet while Harold fluffed and arranged the pillows around his wife until she had the most comfortable place to sleep.
He was doubtless expected to leave after she was settled, but as he stood uncertainly by the bed, Marian reached out to tug on his sleeve, something so sweetly vulnerable in her eyes. “Stay with me, won't you? At least until I fall asleep. I could hardly bear being separated from you for so long while I was in labor...”
It was no hardship at all for Harold to grant that request, as he couldn't bear the thought of leaving her side, either. He knew his exhaustion couldn't possibly compare to hers, but he'd passed the night before with scarcely a few hours of sleep, and he'd been in a constant state of stress and tension and anxiety until the very moment the midwife had announced the birth and Marian's good health. Now, with his beloved safely in his arms, their soft bed beneath him, and their daughter slumbering a few feet away, he could finally, finally allow himself to relax.
Not fifteen minutes later, the ladies found them that way - the new mother and her exhausted, fully-clothed husband, fast asleep in each other’s arms.
Mrs. Moore frowned in disapproval at the sight, but Mrs. Paroo only smiled fondly and held up her hand. “Let them sleep... they both need it. All three of them do, in fact. If she wants her husband at her side, what's the harm? The baby will wake them before long, anyway. Let them sleep now, while they can!”
Gazing fondly upon the sweet domestic scene that had once been no more than her own dearest dream - her daughter, a very happily married new mother, her son-in-law, a fiercely devoted and loving husband and father who brought out the very best in Marian, and her first grandchild, healthy and strong and beautiful - Mrs Paroo drew the curtains and left the room quietly, unable to keep the smile from her face.