Chapter Twenty-Four:

We Learn


Sweeney slid the cream down the man's neck. The customer was ancient, to say the least. With years and years creasing his skin. His eyes were closed. Sweeney was convinced the old man was asleep. Until he yawned.

"Have you heard of deathbed repentance, Mr. Todd?" the man asked.

"I have."

Silence fell over them again.

"I think I'm dying."

"You do, sir?"

The man nodded. "I attended a ball once at a judge's house."

Sweeney tilted his head.

"We were all in masks. Except for one young lady." He drew in a breath. "The judge . . ." He closed his eyes again. "He took advantage of her."

The story was all-too familiar. A judge. A beautiful woman. Dancing and rape. Sweeney stepped away, gripping his razor so his knuckles turned bright white.

"And what did you do, sir?"

"I laughed."

A beat.

"We all laughed."

So all of them stood there and laughed.

"We thought she was mad." The man reopened his eyes. "My granddaughter . . . Her husband . . . He-he did the same thing to her." He looked up at Sweeney. "Thank you, Mr. Todd. I feel lighter now after getting that off my chest."

Sweeney slit his throat.

Mrs. Thomas ordered strict bed rest for the next week or so. Little Lucy hardly left her heap of blankets. A few times a day for a few minutes, Johanna laid her baby on her chest. Her little pink lips parted and a milk-white hand wiggled from the blanket.

Anthony was by her side every moment he could. There were a few painful moments from recovering from the birth. He helped her through. And Mr. Todd. He came by. Uninvited or not. Anthony grinned around him, chattering a mile a minute as he gave updates on Little Lucy.

"Mrs. Thomas says she's doing swimmingly for a baby born when she was," Anthony told him, letting him in, "Come and see."

Johanna watched him enter, but looked down as they made eye contact. She only spoke to him when necessary. That was fine for both of them.

"How have you been, Mr. Todd?" Anthony asked. He paused to remind himself to be polite.

She should apologize. She should ask for the whole story. But Johanna found herself unable to talk at all to him. Mr. Todd was likely furious with her. She screamed at him. She called him a murderer. Murderer or not, it wasn't the most polite thing she's done. But she couldn't talk to him. No. She just couldn't.

"She's been good then?" Mr. Todd said, "Both of you?"

Johanna nodded. "Both of us."

He faced Anthony. "Get her a drink."

Anthony turned to her. He gave a small smile. Johanna nodded. Dread pooled at the bottom of her stomach, knowing exactly why Mr. Todd sent him out of the room. Once Anthony left, she turned away. There was a pause as Johanna consitored her words.

"What happened?" Johanna asked.

"I didn't know she was alive," Mr. Todd began, with a sigh in his voice, "When Mrs. Lovett told me she swallowed poison, I believed her to be dead." He looked up at Johanna.

As anyone would , Johanna wanted to add, to give him some comfort. But she would not give him the satisfaction. She would remain silent and aloof as he tried to explain himself.

"I found you, as you know," Mr. Todd continued, after he didn't receive a reaction, "I'd sworn I'd take vengeance on the world. I wanted the satisfaction. The night I killed Turpin, there was a beggar who came in, demanding Mrs. Lovett was the devil's wife."

Johanna's jaw dropped.

The beggar woman that night. She wore gray and a hood and rags. Johanna didn't get a good look at her, but her voice, that shrill wavery voice matched the beggar who wandered near Turpin's manor. The one she had watched out her window for so long.

"I heard Turpin coming, so I killed her. It was an easy solution. I was used to it."

That was the same time she and Anthony left.

"I didn't realize until later who it was. I heard Mrs. Lovett scream and I went down to help her. Turpin, who wasn't quite dead, had grabbed her skirts. That triggered her cry. It was then I realized who the beggar was."

Her chest shook with breath.

"She had yellow hair. Like you. Mrs. Lovett told me it was her." Mr. Todd's hand balled into a fist. Johanna imagined his hand clutching a razor and shuddered. "I almost killed her, but she stopped me. She asked me where you where and I discovered you were gone. I wanted to die. I only lived to find you."

Johanna didn't know what to say. She took in the words. She considered them. Her chest caved in and hitched.

"You didn't know it was her?"

"I didn't."

He'd killed. He'd taken fathers away from children. Husbands from wives. Coworkers and bosses. Friends. Neighbors. Did he deserve this? Johanna couldn't forgive him for that. Yet knowing he hadn't been aware Lucy Barker was alive made her feel better. He didn't mean to kill her. Mr. Todd loved his wife.

It was almost heartwarming.

"Okay." Was all she said.

There was a hesitation.

She should forgive him. That was her part. But she couldn't.

"Here you go, Johanna," Anthony said, bursting in. He handed her a glass with water droplets on the sides. She took it, wincing at the icy temperature.

"Thank you."

"Is she up yet?"

Johanna glanced over at the bassinet and bit her lip before looking at Mr. Todd. "Maybe give it some more time."

Once Mrs. Thomas announced she was off bedrest, ("Doesn't mean you shouldn't rest still, not at all, Mrs. Hope"), Mr. Todd made his move. It was always playing a game of chess with him. He was always winning. Cat and house. Predator and prey.

"I have your room prepared. Anthony and I will move the bassinet later tonight. You can move back in tomorrow," Mr. Todd said.

"Move back?" Anthony cried out, speaking her thoughts.

Johanna already accepted her fate. She reached out and grabbed the bottom of his coat. Anthony looked down at her with a furrowed brow. She nodded. Anthony knelt down, taking her forearm. He would've held her hand, if it weren't for Little Lucy in the crook of her arm.

"I would help," Johanna said, "But I'm a little . . . occupied at the moment."

Mr. Todd gestured to a small trunk. "This can go back, right?"

"Right. Thank you."

He swung the trunk, effortlessly over his shoulder. With another look, he exited the room. Once he was gone, Anthony turned back to her.

"You're letting him?" he questioned.

"Anthony, think about it. You're a sailor. You've been off duty for a few weeks now. You have to get back to work. What am I supposed to do with a newborn - a premature newborn - while you're gone? I wish it wasn't like this, but I don't see another way out."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her stomach churned, dropping near the end. Mr. Todd, a murderer. She still hadn't forgiven him. The guilt ate her alive every day. Like dogs clawing and eating her alive. Reminding her every moment of how heartless she'd been.

There would be plenty of time with Mr. Todd later.

"But this time, Anthony," Johanna continued, in a lower pitch, "We won't be separated. You'll live with us. My room has plenty of space for you, too. I'll need you. And I need you now."

Anthony's expression stayed the same. He was hesitant. But nodded.

"All right. As long as I'm not separated from you again."

They shared a kiss.

"No, Anthony, not ever again."