"I just need five days."
The days dragged by like cold winter nights. Each morning, William woke up from a frenzied dream and hid his face in the pillow
He counted down to one, busying himself around Mrs Kitchen's house, doing more cleaning than usual. All was quiet at Station House number four – as if the whole police force were holding their breath while they waited to see the outcome of the most dramatic case in years. This meant William was allowed to stay within the crime-free boundaries of his building.
"What time do you think I should meet her?" He asked Mrs Kitchen on the fifth night at dinner.
"If I were her, I'd want to know you've been waiting all day." She said, scooping the last forkful of mashed potato into her mouth.
"Won't that seem desperate?" William stood up and took the plates to the sink, running his hand across his brow.
"Not at all. I know the young lady to be headstrong and determined, but even the most defensive of women like to know someone cares. Be there as soon as day breaks. I'll make you a picnic." She stood up, smiled and patted his hand.
"Thank you, Mrs Kitchen. I suppose I should be having an early night, then."
"Goodnight, dear."
"Goodnight." He smiled and left her, returning once more to his room. As soon as he was away from the kind hearted woman he let the fear show on his face, finally giving way to the nagging thought that had haunted him since Julia's release.
What if she doesn't choose me?
William went to bed without taking his clothes off. He lay still for half an hour, staring at nothing and hoping something good would reach him.
In his head, hundreds of thoughts tumbled by. Memories of what had happened. What had lead up to this impossible moment? In her empty house, Julia was waiting for the sun to rise so she could give him her answer. But would it be a good answer? Was she spending an ecstatic, sleepless night before finally being with him? Or was she stressed, nervous about the reaction he'd give when she turned him down tomorrow?
He rolled over and watched a fly knocking into the ceiling. "It's no use," William whispered. "There's no way out over here." The fly refused to leave its inescapable corner, so William turned and faced the wall.
After another half an hour with his eyes closed, William reached out with his hand and pressed it against the cold wall. He shivered. Would it rain tomorrow? Would they have to go somewhere else? He severely hoped not: the park was a special place to him. It reminded him of when he still had a chance.
This last thought was enough to drive him out of bed. He wasn't getting any sleep that night.
He slipped on his shoes, jacket and hat and tiptoed down the stairs to the front door.
The night was cold. William stepped out quickly, closing the door as quietly as he could so as not to disturb Mrs Kitchen.
He'd planned to walk around the built up areas more, hoping to find some warmth in the sheltered streets, but ended up heading straight to the park. It was like he was pulled there from all of the memories and emotions from the past. From their past
The grass was damp and softened his footsteps, allowing William to wander across the field as silently as a snowflake brushing against glass. He stopped by a tree, looking out through the darkness. Maybe he'd get some sleep here. Sure, he'd look like he was homeless, but he'd look no better after a sleepless night at home.
He sat down against the tree, taking his hat off to lean his head against the bark. Through the leaves and branches, he could just about make out wispy clouds and a few stars in the night sky.
It must be after midnight, he decided.
He sat there for a while, just watching the sky float past. At some point he fell asleep, because some time later he jumped and looked around. His neck was stiff and he felt uncomfortable, but something had moved not far from him to wake him up.
He shakily pulled himself to his feet, trying to peer through the darkness to find the source of the noise. Thinking it was a squirrel or rabbit, he scanned the grass around his feet and the tree trunk.
"Have you lost something?" Her laughter made him jump, staggering backwards towards the tree.
"Julia?" He whispered back, hardly able to keep the laughter out of his voice. What had Mrs Kitchen put in his dinner? Had she organised something?
"What are you doing out at this time of night?" She whispered back, stepping closer to him so they could see each other. William saw the ripples of blonde falling down her shoulders first, trying to pick out her features. It couldn't really be her.
"Waiting for you. I didn't want to be late." He kept squinting, trying to see her face. "Can you come closer? I can't see you."
She laughed again. Nervous? Happy? "I'm right here. Hold out your hand." He held them both out, not wanting to miss his chance. Sure enough, his right hand found hers and he gently guided her closer. "Better?"
"Yes, thank you." He stared and stared as his eyes started to notice her eyes, nose and lips. "So why are you here so early?"
"I couldn't sleep." William's stomach dropped to the floor. There was no escaping this now. He would have his answer, and that would be that. Nothing he could do. Nothing he could do could change this admirable woman's mind.
"William, I want to thank you properly. For saving me, for everything. And I'm grateful – I truly am."
"Julia-" He began without knowing how to finish. Not that she'd let him, of course.
"Don't. Please, let me finish. This is important." She paused and took a deep breath. "I know I've ruined everything." He started to shake his head and she stopped.
"Where's your hat?"
"On the floor." He mumbled without thinking. Too many fears were flying together in his mind to even register the tinkling laughter that followed his answer.
"William, look at me. I know I've messed up and ruined everything and I don't deserve to ask anything of you, but tell me one thing. If things were different – If I wasn't so ruined and imperfect and incomplete – could we start again?"
He felt the blood rush to his face as the fear dropped out of him. He answered softly, his voice warm with relief. "You couldn't be more perfect." She looked away, refusing. "You really couldn't. And we don't have to start again."
"What do you mean?" She stepped closer, long skirt swishing quietly.
"We don't have to prove anything to each other. We've already done that."
"So you're still willing to have me? After everything? The scandal with Darcy and Buffalo and the baby– "
"I'm determined." They stared at each other for a moment, letting this sink in. And he reached up to stroke her cheek, trembling with happiness.
"Is this it?" She whispered, breath fluttering against his face. "Are we safe, at last?"
A huge grin stretched across his face. "We're safe. It's just us."
He had a moment to see the whites of her teeth flash before she kissed him, ecstatic and gleeful. He held her close, finally comfortable holding her in his arms. They touched foreheads.
"No one else?" She checked, making him laugh.
"Unless you're planning on marrying someone else–" She cut him off with another laugh, louder and fuller than the others. No longer the childish giggle he'd heard when she stunned him in their restricted days, this was the laugh of a woman in her element.
"I only plan on marrying one more man in my entire life."
"And who would that be?" He asked, but he knew the answer.