They're all Paramount's, not mine.
Sure, just lemme know where.
Notes: Prompted by Anna Amuse, off of the word 'carriage' and it turned out coherent enough to post. Winona Kirk, holding her eight-month-old son at a diplomatic function of some sort, gets to share a moment of motherhood with Amanda, long before that's significant.
The ceremonies were over, and the reception was in full swing. Winona stayed on the sidelines; she would have probably gone into the fray, just to be near George, but with Jimmy in her arms it was nearly impossible. At times like this, she wished she'd brought a carriage, or even a stroller.
It was a beautiful night, though. Warm, even a little humid, with the smell of the gardens close at hand and filling the air with a sweet scent that made her nostalgic for the wildflowers she used to collect as a child.
She knew George would be over just as soon as he managed to disengage himself from the people who all wanted a piece of him right now. In the meantime, she could wait.
"It's a beautiful night," a woman's voice said, and Winona turned her head to find the speaker. She was a slim, pretty woman; dark hair, blue eyes.
"Yes, it is," Winona replied, with a smile, looking back out into the darkness. "Are you here with someone?"
"I am," the woman said, then took a deep breath of the night air. "How old?" she asked, a question that mothers nearly always asked that way. People without children tended to ask, "How old is your son?" But mothers always seemed to only ask, "How old?" and other mothers recognized it.
"Eight months." Winona smiled proudly. Jimmy had been quiet all evening, wide-eyed and awed by everything. Likewise, though, he was at the age where he was perfectly content observing it all from his mother's arms.
The woman nodded, and her expression when Winona looked back at her was warm and genuine. "What's his name?"
"James." There was a brief pause, then Winona had to chuckle. "A very heavy James right now."
The woman's smile turned sympathetic, and Winona was even more certain then that she was a mother. "May I?"
It was up in the air whether or not Jimmy would be willing to nestle into someone else's arms for a few minutes to give hers a break, but Winona nodded and offered the baby over. And he went willingly enough, though he stared at the woman's face intently, maybe a little warily.
"Hello there, James," the woman said, holding him as if it were second nature. After a few moments of pondering on the situation carefully, Jimmy offered a smile back. With babies, it was all or nothing -- he went from curiosity to a wide grin, then right back to curiosity, all in a moment.
Winona appreciated the break, and let her arms rest at her side for a moment, watching the interchange. There was a brief look of something... almost like sorrow, on the woman's face for the briefest of moments. "My name's Winona," she offered.
The woman looked up from where she was making faces at Jimmy, obviously not caring that she looked silly. Definitely a Mom. "A pleasure. I'm Amanda."
"How old?" Winona asked.
"Too old to hold like this," Amanda replied, cradling James a little closer as he carefully started picking at the simple necklace she was wearing. And Winona understood that look; Sam was now the same way. "He's three now. I can pick him up, but it doesn't seem he's nearly so willing as he was at this age."
Winona had no reply to that; she just nodded. There was no doubting she sympathized.
There was a call towards Amanda from inside, and she looked over at Winona apologetically. "Time to go back to the socializing. But thank you."
Winona carefully took Jimmy back, chuckling, "I should be thanking you. My arms needed a little rest."
"No... no, it was my pleasure." Amanda smiled again, this time at Jimmy, and was rewarded with a smile back. And then, with one more look to Winona, a look shared between mothers, she went back inside.
Winona watched her go, then turned back to look back out at the night, holding her son.
Maybe she didn't need a carriage afterall.