Field of Poppies

March-May 1909

Polly said that Amelia wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be joining the family for dinner. The only one who seemed hung up on this fact was Tommy. The others were happy to go about eating and chatting about their day. As John had predicted, Ada seemed to forget what she was crying about that morning. She was all too excited to tell everyone that she had been the best at double-dutch in the schoolyard. Even better than that no-good-pigtailed-bratty-stuck-up-snob Ingrid.

Tommy wasn't too interested in the mundane details of his family's life. His mind was elsewhere, so he finished dinner quickly and headed upstairs.

When Amelia arrived, Polly had to rearrange the Shelbys to make room. Tommy had to camp out on the couch a bit longer than he would've liked because none of his siblings could agree to any proposed arrangement. John and Ada didn't want to bunk together. Arthur argued he was the oldest and should have his own room. And none of them wanted to be placed with Finn. Finally, Polly put her foot down. Tommy and John would share a room and that was that.

But when Tommy passed what once was his room, the door was open and it was empty. He frowned and continued down the cramped hall. The bathroom door was closed and he could hear retching from inside. He lightly knocked on the door. "Mel? Alright?"

The young woman cleared her throat and stood up from her spot kneeling at the toilet. She rinsed her mouth out in the washbasin and opened the door. "I'm okay."

"Sounded like you were getting sick."

"It's normal with the baby." She assured him; a bit embarrassed that he'd heard her.

"Oh." He nodded and could remember times when his mother was ill with his siblings. But he hadn't thought much of it. She had always put on a brave face for her kids. "Pol said you weren't feeling well."

"Long day, I guess." She moved past him and went back to the bedroom.

Tommy followed even if she didn't really invite him to. He leaned up against the doorframe. "Anything you want to talk about or I could fuck off 'n leave you be."

She laughed softly and waved him into the room. "Close the door, would you?"

He obliged, going to sit on a chest across from the bed, by the nearly empty desk. Even if it was his room, he didn't want to invade her privacy.

Amelia sat down on the bed and leaned down to remove her stockings. She felt so sluggish and weary but couldn't tell if it really was just because of her busy day or because her mind was a factory of worries. She tossed the stockings toward the hamper and began to unpin her hair.

"What's on your mind? You look-concerned."

"Do you think that not having your father around really...well, I guess that's a stupid fucking question. I just..." She groaned when she couldn't find the words to voice her distress. She realized she wouldn't get anywhere if she was asking rhetorical questions in some roundabout way. "Do you think that my child will hate me because they won't know their father? Honestly, be honest."

Tommy was surprised. He expected she would go to Polly with such a problem. True, they were longtime friends but what did he know about children and parenthood? "I don't think your child would hate you for anything? You'll be a great mother, Mel, you know that."

Amelia tipped her head up to the ceiling. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she didn't want them to fall. "I want you to be honest with me, Tom, not to say nice things. We both know nothing in this fucking world is nice."