Dramatic Moments part three

He held her until her sobs diminished, then dried her eyes with his clean white handkerchief. "You said Yes, my love, so why the tears?"

The sobs threatened to return, but she took a deep breath, and made a decision to tell him of her doubts, her fears. "I believe you, sir, I do, but….." He interrupted. "No sirs, please, you know my name."

She nodded. "Tommy." Softly.

He smiled. "So what is the 'but'?"

She looked down, afraid to meet his eyes. "I think someday you would regret it, this declaration and the idea of our being married. I love you…Tommy….I do, have done for a long time. And I've gotten used to loving you without having anything come of it. I can live with it. But like you said, it's new to you, so you haven't really thought it through, what it would mean for you to have a working-class wife."

"Barbara, who on earth would care? I certainly don't. One of the things I love about you is how different you are from the women you call 'my lot'. You don't have expectations to live up to. You are just you, and I liked that about you from the start."

"Really?" she said, relaxing at this turn in the conversation. "That's not the way I remember it."
He smiled. "Yeah, we did hate one another when we first worked together. You scared the hell out of me. I told….a friend…that you were a minefield."

"Helen," she said. "You told Helen.' He nodded. "You can say her name, you know. I know about her – I was there." He looked apologetic. "Well, if I was a minefield, you were a mountain of ice. I could fall any time – all the way down," she said. "I thought you'd get me sacked, that that was the point of our being thrown together.'

"I think the point was to get rid of both of us, that Yorkshire and you would be too much for me. That I'd quit and you could be sacked. They thought we could never work together, that we'd drive one another mad. But they were wrong, weren't they?"

"Yeah, I guess they were. We surprised everyone, from the troops to the higher-ups. No one understood how we could stand one another, let alone get on so well." She sniffed, trying not to cry again. "So think of how they'd react to the idea of us being….well, more than friends."

"Barbara, you've told me that there's already been speculation about us. And you said you didn't care, and I certainly don't. So the problem is that you don't think I really mean it when I say I love you?"

"No, I believe you mean it. Today. I'm just not sure it would last. What I'm most afraid of is that you'd find me embarrassing. I couldn't stand that." She turned away, trying not to start crying again.

"Barbara, I can't conceive of such a thing. But here's a thought. Maybe we need some time for you to get used to the idea; why don't I woo you for a while, go out to dinner…" Before she could say a word, he said, "to places of your choosing." She smiled.
"We'll go to any big Broadway musical that's playing. And I'll take you to the opera…nice, romantic Italian ones. Boheme, Butterfly, Traviata. We'll let everyone at the Met see us as a couple. Let them get used to it. And let me prove it to you." He inhaled. "What do you think?"

Oh God, she thought, and felt the tears rising again. This could happen, it might work.

As though he had read her mind, he frowned. "For God's sake, my love, get angry, yell at me, tell me it's all my fault, that I'm an idiot.. I'll wait till you come round, but give up the tears. Please. And the doubts."

And that seemed to be all she needed. She took one last ragged breath, grabbed his handkerchief and dried her tear-stained face, blew her nose and laughed. Laughed! And fell into his open arms.

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