Tommy Shelby ~ Between the Walls and the Whiskey

Untitled Part 12

chapter warning: period typical non violent racism

"Winston Fucking Churchill?"
              
Cecilia said the name again quietly not wanting to wake her mother or daughter.
              
She'd read the letter now four times, still unable to believe it. He had personally asked Thomas to aid him in some sort of secret operation not mentioned in the letter, or if it had been mentioned she couldn't make heads or tails of it. Actually, her head was still swimming from the revelation that Ada in her ignorance to the business, but wisdom as a woman had noticed a change in her brother, and she had been right.
              
A gangster Thomas Shelby was is and always will be, but a gangster working for the government is another thing entirely. 

She was surprised to say the least, and couldn't imagine him becoming an honest working man. But from what she could tell, it looked like he wouldn't have to. In fact his position in the underground made him a perfect candidate for the work Mr. Churchill had in mind. This is why he'd come. But why couldn't he have just told her, she wondered. Of course the answer was clear. He would never just tell her anything, that was him, that was Tommy's way.
              
He had to see how she really felt before he gave her the letter. And something she'd said had given him enough hope that he took the chance, and tossed the packet to her.

She'd never been any good at lying to him, even over silly things.

He knew she loved him still.
              
Her hand shook as she folded the letter and sat in the dim kitchen.
              
It seemed ridiculous, but she really could work with this. It didn't mean a completely different life from the one they'd lived before, but it did mean that he was important to the right people. Important enough that men breaking into the house and threatening her child might not happen again. She could demand more security, if they wanted Tommy they could have him, but she would have peace of mind and her family.
              
Tears pooled and spilled as she thought of him traveling all this way to see her again.
              
It could not be ignored that Thomas had taken the time away from his work and a hit to his ever delicate pride to cross an ocean. For what? She wondered. Win her back, prove to her that he was worthy of their child and her love? All of these, she decided with a smile as she brushed the tears from her cheeks.
      
Cecilia sat for a while wondering what she should do next. She wanted to run to him now, but it was near midnight and that was foolish, no matter how much her legs threatened to carry her through the dark Chicago streets. But how would she find him, or even Ada? They both found her so easily. For a moment she envied their talent for tracking people, but then she noticed something small written on the back of the folded letter.
              
Two words. The Drake, "The drake hotel" She said her eyes lighting up.
              
She got up from the table and went to the cupboard above the sink. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey she'd taken from the Garrison, what seemed like a lifetime ago, and poured herself a little.
sitting and drinking, she smiled as she realized that as much as she loved him, Tommy had always loved her in return. Things would be different now.

*

The lobby was breath taking. The palms and windows, gold and fine fabric. The bustle of men pushing ornate luggage carts to luxurious rooms that probably cost more than her entire apartment building, swirled around her.

For a moment Cecilia second guessed her appearance, her simple dress and hat were pretty and her favorite but hardly at the level of the other women here. But that meant little to him or her and so she pushed the thought aside.

Her head high, and her purse clutched tight to her breast in an attempt to steady her racing heart, she made her way through the crowd.

She had no idea what room he was in, or where to begin, but he would show up eventually. She knew he would.