Power and Lies

Twenty-One

"There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment."
-Sarah Dessen 

"Marry me, Freya." He said suddenly and she stared up into his eyes. "Be that girl again, with the fire. Marry me."

His fingers traced around her naked ring finger as he said it and she took in a deep breath. "I can't Tommy." She whispered so lowly she was not sure he could hear her. And maybe she did not want him to. Maybe she wanted to be the girl who leapt into his arms and squealed a delighted yes. They could pick out a venue and a dress and they would be the talk of the town. But she could not be that person. Not yet.

"Why? Have you got plans for the rest of your life?" She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles, hoping he could understand her hesitance. His eyes closed and he swallowed, his head slowly nodding.

"Listen to me," He said, his eyes closed. "We are all monsters here."

"That is not why, Tommy."

"Then what is it?" He was hurt. She could tell underneath the layer of indifference he tried his best to portray that there was pain. She hated that she had caused it.

"We've still got to deal with Grace, and the police. And the gangs in London-"

"I will hand you London on a fucking silver tray if you want it." Her heart lurched. She pushed her lips against his once more, relishing in the fire between them.

"I know you would."

"I love you," He whispered. She would never grow tired of hearing it. Even when she was old and hard of hearing, she would hear him say that. Even if it was whispers in the wind, she would hear it still.

She lay with him for hours as he drew himself in and out of delirium. He often mumbled out things as he dreamt, and she tried to ignore the moments where it was not her name uttered. She prayed Polly had taken care of Grace like she said she would. She was not sure if she could manage the task. Not in a way that would keep from hurting Tommy as well. The piece of him that loved Grace was still there, and it had to be him who severed the chord between them. She could not marry him with a heavy heart. And her heart was drowning under the stones that stacked on it. Finally, she dragged herself out of his bruised embrace and made her way home.

---

Freya busied herself behind the counter at the Garrison, careful to pour each drink correctly as not to spill. Grace had made it seem so effortless, but she had tilted over so many glasses and shattered them she was surprised the pub had any left. Arthur had, of course, mumbled a few words of encouragement her way, and every once in a while John would nod in affirmation. She wished they could talk once more, but he seemed content to push her further and further away. She knew he was lonely, and he was quenching his thirst for comfort with the city prostitutes, and it worried her. It was as though the minute Tommy was no longer within eyesight the family pulled away from one another and fell apart. He was the adhesive. She was lucky to have his love.

Polly was perched upon her chair staring out at the patrons, her signature smoke between her fingers. Her eyes surveyed each person with an air of caution. The whole family was on edge with Tommy being in the hospital. They had sent men to guard him day and night, and now they were all left to watch over the Garrison and operations. It was stressful to say the least. Freya herself had blistered hands from all the labor she had been doing. When she returned to her home at night she would collapse in exhaustion, sometimes unable to even remove her clothing. The machine must not fail, she knew this. But damn if it did not take its toll.