Regret
Snow swirled around Alan as he stared at Thomas's grave, at the freshly turned mixture of snow, dirt and crimson clay. All of Thomas's former workers, Edith, and the old man called Finlay along with the preacher had gone. All had gone and his gaze fell to the wayside, to Lucille's grave. The ache in his chest had at first manifested in a sense of breathless sadness, helplessness, but now it turned to anger. "Why ? Why did you do it, you bitch ?! He just wanted you to be happy. You don't deserve happiness ! I hope your rotting in Hell b-because he didn't deserve this ! He didn't deserve it, he didn't. Why you, Thomas ? W-why did it have to be you...why not me ?"
In his mind the snow turned to pouring rain, pain lanced through his jaw and strong arms caught him. A warm, silky British voice in his ear, "Pray forgive me for intruding my good man, but would you wish a bit of help ?"
Alan kept his gaze fixed on his fellow American, a tan-skinned drunkard else wise known as Emery. "Give it all that you like drunk as he is he's not likely to listen to sense."
The Englishman called, "What're you doing, mate ?"
Emery spat, "I'm not your mate, you faggot, shut up 'n go away."
A soft whisper that had him chuckling, "I say, what terrible manners he has, absolutely horrid." Normal volume again, "Not very nice at'll to call someone that you know, 'specially when you don't know 'em one wit. I have a few friends who would love to introduce themselves if you'd like. They're a lovely bunch of blokes really, they just don't like curses being thrown about free-like. What if a child had heard you ? He'd go crying to mum about this new word he heard 'n get the beans knocked out of him like you're doing this poor thing here. Think, man, think or you're no better than a bloody dog !" The man'd barely stopped talking before Emery turned and booked it back into the bar/pub.
"I'm Alan, nice to meet you and thank you."
"Thomas, glad to be of service."
Edith asked, "A-Alan ? Are you alright ?" pulling him from the memory.
He'd fallen to his hands and knees, her gloved hand was warm as he leaned into it, "No. Why, Edith ?"
"She was jealous, she killed him because of me. Oh, Alan, it's all my fault."
Once again it was them alone in all the world but for their shared secrets. She joined him in the snow and they wept.