five - tommy's orders

"Wake up." His voice is soft. Lovely. Velvety. Home.

He nuzzles his head in my neck, kissing me softly as his fingers trace above my side. From my thigh, to my hip, up my rib, to my arms and shoulders. His fingers are long, leaving a line down my side.

I roll onto my back to find his eyes meet mine. I swear my heart skipped a beat. My eyes fall on his and I push myself to sit up. "Tommy?"

He puts his hand on my cheek and I put my hand on top of his. "Tommy!" I laugh before embracing my husband. He's warm and as he hold one another, I roll my eyes shut inhaling his scent. Home.

"Tommy-" I pull back and grab his face in my hands. "You're alive?!" I study his face, not a bruise in sight. He's naked, laying in bed with me. No bullet holes, not a single one. "You're here."

He puts his hand on my heart, "No I'm not here. I'm here." He nods towards my heart. "I'm here." Before his finger moves up to my brain. "And here."

"Will you come back to me?"

He doesn't answer, instead, he pulls the blanket off of his body and and stands. "Go to sleep, love."

"What?" I reach for his hand but fail tremendously. "No, please, come back."

He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. "I didn't go anywhere."

The morning

Waking up in a gasp, I let out a sob before I am able to feel the tear in my heart. A blood curdling scream escapes past my lips and I swear it shakes the world.

My heart, the way it aches for my husband damages my soul. I look to my left and his pillow and fall back on it. I sob uncontrollably into it, smelling him as my legs and body curls up to his side of the bed. I am unable to wrap myself around such a small pillow, but I feel his warmth.

The last night we had spent together was one that was monumental. Almost like the universe gave us one last hoorah before the inevitable.

My eyes fall on his pillow as my long nails dance over his side of the bed. I roll onto my stomach, the pillow under me. I pull his nightstand cabinet open and see his pack of smokes. He's got a notebook in there too, it's small, black, leathery. A pen sits on top.

I haven't seen it before and pick it up before shutting the cabinet. In the cabinet under it, I find a gun and immediately shut it closed.

I push myself to sit up and wipe away my tears. I still am in hysterics, my breath very shaken from the realness behind the dream and what I had to wake up to.

My fingers inch over the notebook, my eyes surfacing the black leather. I haven't seen this thing ever. I had no idea Tommy journaled.

My heart is in my stomach when I notice the pen he uses. I had got him a bunch of personalized stationary, I didn't know what else to get a man who had everything. I look at his signature and break into a huge grin.

T. Shelby

I pull the journal, opening it up to see that he's written down the date on each page.

I don't know why, but I stop on a random page. Marked about two weeks ago. It reads, in the finest and neatest cursive writing:

She sleeps. I lay awake. Her breath is short, and sometimes I wonder if I should wake her up. I'm afraid that she'll lose her breath in sleep. And knowing her innocence, I know my wife will be taken up to heaven in such a painless way. Her hair is silk, her lips a pout as she breathes ever so softly. Don't take yourself away from her. Don't allow yourself. But somehow, I know I'll feel my heart leave my body, she'll be my safe keeper. And soon, she'll understand everything. I want to tell her everything. I want to give her the chance to read me like a book. But it's too early, and things need to happen before that happens. Harms way is only a moment away, and there are too many snakes in the grass to allow my woman to get bitten by them. I need to keep her safe. In the dark. No matter how many roses and daisies I shower her in, I know how dangerous things can get. I need to sort it out. Sort it out. Sort it out. Fucking sort it out, Tommy.

I flip to the next page in a panic but fall short. Nothing. I flip to the next, and the next, and the next to again, see nothing but blank lines. I end up at the end of the journal and still don't find anything.

In a rage, I let out a shout before flipping back to the other pages. I do find things, but they're all stills of me.

Sketches and drawings of me sleeping.

My everything, he writes under one of the images.

Isn't she lovely? Another one is signed.

Breathtaking.

All mine and she snores. Occasionally.

That one makes me smile softly. This is so unlike him, and yet, so rich. Looking at the images, and the detail behind each one makes me shake my head in dismay. Tommy! Jesus. I put my hand on my mouth and shake my head, trying to wrap my head around all of this. I had no idea about this journal, let alone the entry he had written. Jesus Christ. Flipping back to the sheet he had written so much on, I move my fingers over his penmanship and let out a shaky breath.

I need to keep her safe. In the dark.

"Oh Tommy," I put my fingers up to my lips and blink away a tear. "What were you hiding?"

A knock sounds at the door and I turn my gaze that way before hearing Mary's voice. "Mrs. Shelby, ah, the other maids heard you in distress. Is everything alright?"

"Yes," I croak before clearing my throat. "I'm sorry, yes, please come in."

She pops open the door and allows herself the time to look around the room quite nervously. "Mrs. Shelby," She sets her eyes on me before smiling. "Good morning, dear."

"Good morning," I put the journal down and look out the window. It's a new day. I slept all of yesterday and through the night.

"You look well rested. Eyes are a bit puffy but-" She makes her way through the room and pulls apart the curtains before sniffing around, she narrows her eyes at me. "Might I suggest a bath?"

"Excuse me?" I gasp, astonished by her rude words. I mean, I get it, I don't smell the best but Christ! I'm a grieving woman! Plus, it's unlike Mary to be so... forward.

"I'm sorry," She shakes her head in a laugh. "I guess you weren't informed. Mr. Shelby also put me in his plans after death."

"Oh?" I am amazed, and make myself sound sarcastic, but I'm astonished more than anything.

"He instructed me to be frank, asked if I be as honest as possible. Said it'll keep you in-"

I scoff.

"He mentioned that you didn't have family outside of marrying into his." Shes quick. "And I know you are much more innocent than the Shelby family. Assumed you might not be as close-Anyway. I've taken a strong liking to you Mrs. Shelby. You've given me good pay, a fair work schedule. You've personally paid me when I fell ill and wasn't able to come into work."

I stare at this woman who I've known as the sweetest most honest housekeeper and break into a smile. Sure I've done good by her, but my goodness, the woman has done far more good for me than I could ever do. Taking care of the house, maintaining its wellness. Taking care of Tommy, taking care of myself. Sorting guests out, going to the shops for us. I mean - she's done it all for us.

"You just don't give up on friends. And that's how I view you, Mrs. Shelby, as my friend."

"Mary!" I look up and begin fanning myself. "Argh, it's so early in the morning, I'm going to cry for the second bloody time!"

"There is nothin' wrong with crying dear." She tells me before gasping. "Did you see the box your husband left for you?"

Huh? Oh yes! The box Marcus said he needed to get from his car. "No, I didn't get the chance."

"Let me get it for you, and I'll bring you some breakfast. Then I'll run you a bath," She nods.

"Oh you don't have to Mary."

"No!" She walks away, already at the door. "Tommy's orders."