I don't own Father Brown or the characters.
Chapter Two
Tom slipped back inside and took his bag upstairs. He dropped it on the floor and took a long look around the room. Not much had changed. His blue chair was still there. Well, not his blue chair, but the blue chair that had been in the room he used four years ago. He sat himself down in it. The room smelled the same. Looked the same, and felt the same.
With Emma having someone in her life he decided that one night here would have to suffice. Any reunion he thought he might have with Emma was out of the question. He would have to live with her embrace from earlier. He could live with it after all, he had dreamed of that moment for four years.
He never thought their reunion would see butterflies and rainbows, but what happened downstairs was fairly close. He never once thought she would welcome him back into her her home, not to mention her arms. He had stomped all over her heart, and betrayed her trust by leaving when she needed him most.
A knock on his door drew him from his thoughts.
"Tom? I brought your towels,"
He opened the door and let her in, "Thank you,"
"You're welcome," she disappeared into the bathroom and emerged a moment later.
"I'm happy for you," he said.
She knew exactly what he meant. She shrugged, "Thank you, Tom. Patrick is a good man."
"Is it serious?"
Emma blanched.
"I'm sorry, that was totally inappropriate." he said.
"Yes,"
"Yes, it's serious?"
"Yes, that was inappropriate." she gave him a fierce look.
"Emma," he held his hands up, "You do not have to explain anything to me. I don't deserve any kind of explanation."
She stopped and giggled, "Sorry."
"Don't apologize to me, Emma. I should be the one on my knees begging for forgiveness."
"I suspect you've spent plenty of time torturing yourself over everything," she told him.
She stepped forward and touched his temple where he was starting to turn gray. His once jet black hair was fading into white and he looked so handsome. Tired, but still...handsome.
"Let it go, Tom. I'm happy. You did what you had to do and I've never held that against you,"
"I never deserved you," he whispered.
He wanted to kiss her. It took all his will power to convince himself he shouldn't. Even after four years. Even with her Patrick downstairs. Even with everything he'd done...
"Nonsense. You're a great man Tom Sullivan. You always have been." she waved him off.
He looked intently into her soft face. She hadn't changed. Not one bit. Time had been kind to Emma.
"I should let you go," he said.
He wasn't only talking about letting her get back downstairs, she knew.
She gave him a knowing smile and turned away. Without a word she swayed out of his room and down the stairs. He let out a breath and fell backwards onto the bed. Why was it all so complicated? He was not the same man he was four years ago when he tore out of Kembleford. He'd learned a lot. He was more of a man now.
Experiences made a man.
He closed his eyes. His body was tense from the stress if the investigation. He thought about taking a shower, but sleep soon overcame him. He woke to the sound of Emma knocking on his door. It was open, but she didn't come inside. It was dark, and the moon was shining bright through his window.
"Tom?"
"Come in," he said as he sat up, "I guess I fell asleep,"
"You looked dead tired so I'm not surprised. I made you some dinner if you want to come downstairs."
He stood and raked a careless hand through his hair. It brought back memories to Emma. Suddenly it was four years ago and she was thinking about him constantly. Stealing glances and wondering if he felt the same way about her. She pushed the memories down as they walked downstairs.
"You didn't have to make me dinner," he told her.
She turned to him and rolled her eyes, "Don't be daft,"
"I can't help but notice you're not wearing your ring,"
She held up her hand and said, "No. I lost it a long time ago. And by 'lost' I mean I flung it in the pond,"
"Oh. What brought that on? If I may ask..."
She exhaled,"Well, after I recovered from the gunshot I decided I was a lot stronger than what I thought I was. So strong I didn't need to hold to anything that weighed me down. I don't know why I kept it for so long, really," she shrugged.
She walked ahead of him into the kitchen and he stared at her and wondered if memories of him weighed her down. He sat down at the table and she brought him his food and took the seat opposite of him.
"Just us?" he asked.
She nodded, "I thought we could use the chance to catch up, and maybe you could tell me about that night?"
Tom swallowed a bite of food and washed it down with a sip of tea.
"What happened that night, Tom? Please,"
He shrugged as if it was the simplest of explanations, "I killed her,"