New York, Summer, 1921 . Your new neighbor across the lake is the mysterious bachelor , Dutch. His reputation for excess and extravagant parties precede him in the prohibition era. But after an invitation to one of his soirees, you discover your...
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"You're going to kill him? Don't be absurd," you said to Tom with a little laugh. His eyes were as dark as pitch, like something you've never seen in him. It was unsettling. You ran your fingers lovingly across his furrowed brow, hoping to sooth whatever beast was raging inside. You've had enough of monsters to last a lifetime. You didn't need your one true love to become one of them.
Tom pressed his face against your palm and sighed.
"It's all my fault. I took too long and now look what's happened," His hand stroked your thigh affectionately, but his hold on you was possessive and covetous. He finally reclaimed what was his and wasn't going to let it go. Something about it made you uneasy- the distance in his eyes, the turn his tone took. For the first time, you noticed how much he's changed.
You sat up and pulled the sheet to cover your breasts. You felt an innate need to protect yourself, even from someone you thought would never bring you harm. It was second nature at this point. Richard taught you a lot.
Tom noticed and gave a disappointed frown.
"Why did you take so long?" you asked, "Where did you go?"
Tom tugged on the sheet, playfully, pawing at it like some pet. You held firmly and looked him right in the eyes, waiting for his answer. Always waiting, it seemed.
He was hesitant to say but you've had enough of his guile. You would not allow his ambiguity to go on. He claimed he came back for you, to win you back, to start anew. How could he ever expect you to give yourself over to him with so much duplicity?
"Everywhere," was all he said.
You pushed him away and climbed out of bed with annoyance. His coy response was infuriating to you. So vague. You used to divulge your deepest wants and wishes with each other. Now he treated you like some fragile doll too sheltered to understand the big, bad world. Little did he know, you've been living in your own big, bad world for seven years.
You grabbed your robe and furiously tied it at the waist.
"Well, you got what you wanted," you said with a huff, " you can leave now."
"Darling, don't-" Tom said reaching for his trousers.
"Don't darling me," you snapped, "Who the hell do you think you are? You show up after seven years with a fortune and a different name and all your stupid secrets! And for what? To win me back?"
"Yes, Violet. To finally be together with you."
"But you could have been with me long ago! Why did you not come back then?"
"I don't expect you to understand. You've never had to lift a finger your whole life. You think you would have been happy living on scraps, residing in some hovel with only our love to keep us warm."
"Yes! I would have!" you screamed.
Tom shook his head, unconvinced.
"No, you wouldn't have, Violet. Be truthful with yourself. The moment things got hard, you would have run back home. You deserved better than an apple picker. I had to make something of myself before I could come back to you. It took longer than it should, I admit."
"And now look at you," you said bitterly.
"And now look at you!" he said waving at your grand bedroom, "You're certainly living comfortably."
"At a price." you said.
Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Right, sorry," he said, coming towards you to grab your hand.
"Darling, come away with me. We can go anywhere. We can finally be together and you can leave this nightmare behind you." His eyes pleaded with you. If only it were that simple.
Your conversation was interrupted by a gale of laughter outside. You walked over to the window to peer through the curtains. Harrison and Maribel were back. She was draped all over him, head thrown back in a fit of hilarity.
"I have to tell Harrison," you said quietly, "I can't sneak around like this. He's my dearest friend."
Tom rushed to you in a panic. His hands grabbed you in a state of urgency.
"No, Violet, you can't tell him anything!"
You looked at him startled. His eyes were wide with with alarm. His hand gripped your arms with emphasis. You tried to wiggle your way out of it, but his strength was too great.
"Why?" you asked.
"You can't tell Harrison. It would put him in danger," he shouted and his breath blew the hair away from your face.
"Danger?" you asked with a dash of mockery.
"Yes, Violet, danger. There are powerful people who would love nothing more than to take me down and hurt the ones I love. You have to promise to not say anything about me. To anyone!" His face was ripe with rebut. There was no jest in his command.
"What? But why?" you asked. His fingers were uncomfortably digging into your flesh. His eyes were full of paranoia and fear. It frightened you.
"Violet, promise me! " he said shaking you.
"What have you done, Tom? Why would someone want to hurt you or us. What is going on?"
"If they found me out, Violet, it will all be over."
"Who? You're scaring me! Stop with your childish riddles and tell me what's going on!"
He looked at you, breathing heavily. You could see the disorder behind those eyes, tearing at the truth and the lies that rested there. A seed of fear started to grow in the pit of your stomach. He looked like a stranger to you. Your Tom was no where to be found in that face.
"I did it all for you..." he said softly. His voice was strained with emotion.
"You have to believe me, my love. Everything I've done, all that I've gained, it was so I could be with you. You're all that I have in this world, Violet. You're all I ever wanted. You can't let them take that from me...from us."
"Tom...," you placed a calming hand on his arm, "I don't understand."
He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around your waist. You searched his face, hoping for some sort of answer. You knew you should protest, but you couldn't help the love that you harbored for him. After all these years, to have him touch you like he did today, to have him long for you as he did now. Your brain was an unfledged instrument fighting against the tide. Your heart would always come out on top.
"Tom is dead, darling, at least they think so. It's P.B. Parker now."
