A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviewe!

New Normal

Chapter Four

June 10, 2014

Preparations were underway for Papa's fifty-fifth birthday party. Thomas and Phyllis, Mama's new assistant, had spent the past month booking caterers and sending out invitations. It was supposed to be a surprise but some idiotic guests had ruined it by texting Papa asking what time they were meant to show up. Nevertheless, he was still excited and Rose was planning a special surprise.

Initially, Mary had been hesitant. Rose was incredibly spontaneous and wasn't always the best judge of things. Still, the young girl was incredibly persuasive. "They've been ever so kind to me," she practically gushed when she burst into Mary's office. "I cannot thank them enough for letting me stay Downton while I've been at uni. I want to thank them in some way." When Mary continued to exchange dubious looks with Thomas, Rose huffed and said, "I promise it's nothing wild. It's perfectly respectable."

Mary let out a sigh, hoping she wouldn't regret this decision. "Alright. But if things go horribly wrong, I'm holding you responsible," she said, narrowing her eyes.

Now that the party was finally approaching, Mary found that she was getting overwhelmed. There would be no tours at the house that day to give Papa a relaxing day at home with Mama, Isis, and the puppies, whereas the whole family was arriving for dinner that night. A number of other guests were set to arrive as well, including an old family friend and ex-boyfriend of Mary's: Evelyn Napier.

She glanced down at her most recent texts from him again.

EVELYN: do you mind if i bring a friend along?

She thought of the last time he had asked such a question. Mama and Papa had been away for something with Sybil, Edith had gone to a friend's, and Mary, wanting to rebel for once in her life, had decided to throw a party. She had invited her then boyfriend, Evelyn, who had asked if he could bring along Kemal Pamuk, the foreign exchange student he had befriended.

She should have said no.

MARY: Of course! The more, the merrier! Looking forward to seeing you! :)

Mary tried to soothe her nerves, even as she kept misspelling words in her email to the livestock people. A red line was under the word "calfs", causing her to sigh wearily.

Maybe it wasn't a friend. Maybe it was a girlfriend... but after scouring his Facebook and Instagram, it was concluded Evelyn was very much single and there was no girlfriend lurking in the distance.

Thomas sat a cup of black coffee on her desk. "You look like shit," he told her flatly.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks." Still, she accepted it. The bitter taste took her anxiety ridden thoughts for a while.

"Is it still this Evelyn thing?" asked Thomas. When Mary didn't answer, he let out a sigh. "Look, do why don't you just text him and ask him not to bring the friend?"

"And how would we explain it without revealing what I did?" countered Mary, fixing him with a cold glare. "I'll be fine."

Thomas said nothing... He didn't know the whole story. Only four people knew what had happened: herself, Kemal, Anna, and Matthew. Edith thought she knew, but she was wrong, as Edith normally was. Thomas knew only the brief details of what Mary had told him and from what he had heard from a mutual friend who had attended Mary's school.

She still felt ashamed, especially when she thought of the gossip, the whispered rumors that only exacerbated the whole affair. Evelyn had never believed a word of it, thinking it was vicious gossip from their petty classmates, not even believing Edith's contribution to the proceedings, but Mary knew the truth. They had maintained a friendship, even after they mutually broke it off.

"Look, it doesn't matter. I'll get over it."

Thomas didn't give her a pitying look, but she knew he was feeling sorry for her, which was just as bad. Mary angrily typed away, trying her best to take her mind off of things.

June 11, 2014

She woke up in a sweat, the grey light streaming in through her parted windows. She sat up, groaning, knowing sleep would be impossible. Her nightmares were fragmented, splices of her worst moments and envisionings. She rubbed her eyes before standing, walking down the stairs.

There only a few images Mary could remember when she reached the bottom of the steps— Kemal looming over her childhood bed, shirtless, swaying in place, somehow looking even more beautiful under the influence of the drugs. Sybil screaming her head hurt in her hospital bed, face screwed up in pain. Matthew driving down the busy road, unaware he was mere minutes away from death... These were the things that tortured her in sleep and when she was awake.

"You're up early," said Tom when he found her in the kitchen, scrambling some eggs. "You're up before the babies."

"Did I wake you?" asked Mary. It was 5:14— she was usually the last one out of bed, scarfing down her breakfast before running out the door with George and Sybbie to drop them off with their grandparents.

Tom shook his head. "I normally wake up around this time. I just don't leave bed until later." He smiled at her before letting it fade. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Mary paused her task to stare at him. "How did you know?"

"I have enough them myself. I recognize the signs," said Tom. He looked at her with concern. "Usually about Sybil."

Mary nodded. That day had been particularly traumatic, for many reasons... it was no wonder they were both still haunted by it. "We probably need therapy."

Tom let out a laugh. "Yeah. You're probably right." He leaned against the stainless steel refrigerator, posing almost like a model in his tee shirt and loose basketball shorts. "What're yours about?"

Mary thought about saying Matthew, but it wasn't the complete truth. "All sorts of things," she admitted, focusing her attention back to the eggs. Then, she added, "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Fair enough."

She made him a plate of eggs and left him to make the toast before going to check on the babies. George was awake, squirming in his crib, whereas Sybbie was still in a peaceful slumber. Mary kissed her son's head, silently thanking him for not screeching and waking his cousin. He sat in his high chair, happily playing with animal crackers as Tom and Mary talked and ate.

"I got a strange text from Edith yesterday," said Tom halfway through breakfast.

Mary was relatively nonplussed. "Oh?" She asked, feigning interest. Truthfully, knowing her sister, she was probably inventing a situation to create intrigue. She possessed as much mystery as a bucket.

"She asked me if Sybbie was worth it, even though I had to raise her on my own. Like... if I could do things differently, would I choose have her?"

Mary bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. The question was bizarre, certainly, and not funny at all, but... "Did she think that you were actually trying for Sybbie?" It wasn't exactly a secret that her niece was unplanned.

Tom shook his head. "I don't know. It was strange."

Mary frowned, realizing this was truly bothering him. "What did you tell her?" she asked.

"I told her I wasn't raising Sybbie on my own. That I had you... and that as painful as it was, I'd never choose a life without her in it."

Mary was disarmed by the easiness that he revealed the part about her. "Oh," she said, touched. Still, she hid her smile by forcing a bite full of eggs in her mouth. She didn't look up again until she wonder aloud, "Did she ever tell you why she asked?"

Tom shook his head. "I have no idea."

Mary stared down at her plate. "Maybe it was for column," she said, thinking of the magazine she worked for. "She could be doing an article about single parents." She then frowned. "I wonder why she never asked me."

"She probably figured you'd give the same answer I did," replied Tom, and Mary had to agree. She probably would have... that is, if she had even bothered to reply at all. Unless it was something important, Mary usually didn't respond to anything Edith sent her. "Or maybe she figured as a fellow journalist that I'd give a more eloquently worded answer that would produce a good quote." Mary didn't take offense; she was no good at writing. "I'm afraid I didn't do that. I answered like a brother, not a journalist."

Mary's fork clinked against her plate. "Is that what you think of her as? A sister?"

Tom smiled, the first real smile of the day. Mary tried to suppress her annoyance over the fact it was for Edith. "I suppose I do. I don't have any sisters of my own, so I don't really have anything else to compare it to. But I guess I do. She's my family and I want the best for her."

"And what about me? Am I sister, too?"

Tom hesitated. "I don't know. I haven't given it much thought, to be honest." Mary tried not to be offended... which was only possible when he said, "It's different with us. You're pretty much my best friend and in some ways, you're like a partner. Not romantically, of course," he said hastily, "but you're helping me raise my child, and vice versa. We live together too... so I think that makes us closer."

Mary couldn't hide her smile at that. "As long as I'm your favorite," she said, rising to her feet with her empty plate in hand. Before she reached for his, she added, "After Sybil, of course."

"I don't believe in having favorites," insisted Tom, but Mary knew if he did, it would be her.

June 13, 2014

She had been correct; Evelyn's friend was another man. "He's my boss," disclosed Evelyn when she greeted him in the drawing room with a hug. The friend was busy talking with Mama. "But we do hang out with each other outside of work." He gave Mary an apologetic look. "We're in the area to look at these big houses and see how efficiently they are running in the twenty first century. When he found out I was coming to Downton, he practically invited himself... but I wanted to ask first." Evelyn looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry if we've created an inconvenience."

"Not at all," said Mary. She gave him a smile. "Actually, I wouldn't mind letting you two looking things over... during work hours, of course," she added with a smile. "We're opening up a petting zoo soon and your advice would be most appreciated."

"I'll see what I can do," assured Evelyn eagerly. "We've a busy schedule in Yorkshire, but given his enthusiasm to visit Downton, I'm sure we'll be able to make time."

"What is his name, anyway?" asked Mary, realizing the mystery man's name hadn't been spoken once. She glanced at him over by Mama, noting his shorter height and floppy brown hair that curled at the ends. He was attractive, though...

"Charles Blake," answered Evelyn.

After dinner, Rose's surprise was revealed to be her new boyfriend's band. Jack Ross crooned into a microphone, causing nearly every lady present to swoon at his angelic voice. He was more than willing cover Beatles songs for Papa's benefit and sing more contemporary songs for everyone else's. There were original songs as well, all of which were easy to get stuck in one's head. Mary reminded herself to add their latest album to her Spotify library as her and Evelyn swayed across the dance floor.

"I'm so glad to see you looking so well," Evelyn murmured, voice almost hard to hear over the music. "I've been thinking about you... wondering how you've been holding up."

There was no double meaning, no lecherous undertones... simply genuine concern. It was one of the things Mary liked most about Evelyn: his sincerity. Even though she was well aware there were still feelings lingering beneath the surface on his end, he had always respected her decisions.

"It's been hard," she confessed, meeting his eyes. "But Tom's helped me a lot."

Evelyn smiled. "I'm glad to hear it." It took a moment for he added, "I'm happy to see how well you look. Lovely, as ever."

That was another thing she liked about Evelyn; she always managed to receive an ego boost whenever she was in his company. "Thank you," she said demurely, though she was hardly surprised he thought such a thing. "I'm pleased to know the stress of planning this party hasn't taken its toll on me."

Evelyn chuckled. "I don't think anything could. Was it your idea, the band?"

It wasn't only Evelyn who observed Rose's brilliance. "I have to admit this isn't what I was expecting," confessed Thomas as he humored her with a dance to Love Me Do. "But I think your father is enjoying it."

Mary glanced over to him and Mama, who were staring into one another's eyes adoringly. They looked so disgustingly in love... it would have been nauseating to her if it were any other couple. "I think so, too," said Mary, turning back to Thomas. She twirled around. "I'll say Jack will definitely meet Papa's approval. I'm sure he'll be invited to a Sunday dinner sometime soon."

When the song finished up, Thomas went to seek out Jimmy, who had spent the evening in and out of his girlfriend's arms. Mary was looking for Tom, who had seemed to disappear, only to bump into Edith— literally.

"Watch it!" her sister snapped, spilling her drink onto the floor. She glared at Mary. "Thanks a lot!"

Mary couldn't help it. She smirked. "Oh, don't make such a scene. It's only water." When Edith scowled at her, Mary was able to see how pale and drawn her sister looked. She thought of Tom's concerns... Maybe things weren't going so well for her. She wondered where Michael was... usually he was at these sort of gatherings. Seemingly unable to express her concern in a genuine, caring manner, Mary bluntly said, "You look like hell."

"Oh, fuck off, Mary."

Mary supposed she deserved that. It wasn't exactly complimentary. "Are you okay?" She tried again. She followed her sister over to the bar as she collected napkins, wiping off her green dress. "I mean it. You look sick."

Edith looked at her through narrowed eyes. "I'm fine."

"Where's Michael?"

"Business trip in Germany," Edith said tightly, grabbing another fistful of napkins. Judging by her tone, she sounded angry. Mary wondered if there had been a fight...

"Is everything alright between you two?"

Edith rolled her eyes. "Why are you bothering to ask?" She demanded. "You don't care, so stop pretending— the only reason you want to know is so you can rub it in my face if things have gone south. Don't deny it," she said, frustration evident in her voice.

Mary blinked, unused to this side of Edith. Her sister wasn't spineless in their confrontations, but she was never this aggressive. "As a matter of fact, I am genuinely concerned about you. So is Tom," she told her, hoping she believed her. "But since you don't want to talk to me about it, I won't bother." Mary turned away, aware Edith was still lingering there. With a sigh, Mary reached for a flute of champagne before offering it to her sister. "Here. Drink up. It might make you feel better."

Edith cast her a disgusted look. "I better not. I'm trying to cut back." She stalked away, her napkins in hand.

Well. She had tried. Mary took a drink of what was now her champagne. She resolved herself to find Tom and report back... but maybe without mentioning how she had inadvertently insulted her sister's appearance.

She was approaching Evelyn and his friend— Charles, if she remembered correctly— on the sidelines. "—just like every other spoiled brat I've come across," she heard the new man say.

"You don't even know her," Evelyn countered. "If you get to know her, you'll see how lovely and clever she is."

"Clever? Did you hear what she was talking about at dinner?" Charles scoffed. "Going on and on about how the house had been in the family for centuries— as if it's her God given right to manage the place! She's just like all those other idiots at the places that are going under!"

There was only one person he could be talking about: her. Mary's hand tightened on the stem of her champagne glass she stood in front of them, unbeknownst to the men, who were facing one another. "Look, she's proud of her family history and it's a beautiful house. What's the crime in that?" Evelyn asked, defending her. He really was a dear... She reminded herself to send him a gift when Christmas rolled around.

"The problem is that she's expecting us to take time out of our work week in order to do a favor for her! And I'm sorry, but I won't do it!"

Well... at least she wasn't about to ruin a professional relationship. Mary pretended to trip, sending the contents of her glass onto Charles Blake. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Mary apologized with little to no emotion— at least no real emotion. "I've been so terribly clumsy!"

"Are you okay?" asked Evelyn, taking two steps forward to wrap an arm around her and ensure she was steady on her feet as Charles Blake glowered at her, unconvinced by her display.

"Oh, I'm fine— Mr. Blake, there's napkins over by the bar if you need them," said Mary, gesturing over where she had just been. She gave him a fake smile before saying, "Excuse me." She smirked to herself as she walked away.

"Where have you been?" asked Tom once she finally joined him. He was seated next to Granny, rising to his feet once he spotted her.

"Causing trouble," she told him, smiling. She didn't regret it— well, she regretted angering Edith, but knocking Mr. Blake down a peg filled her with nothing but satisfaction. "Care for a dance?"

"Lead the way." He held his hand out for her to take.

This was a different type of dance from the kind they had engaged in at the club. They were much closer to one another, for starters, actually touching. Her hand rested on his shoulder. He was dressed up this evening, for once— but then again, that was only because Mary had threatened him. Left to his own devices, Tom would have appeared in a tee shirt and jeans, no matter what the occasion. Papa had blown a gasket when he appeared at her and Matthew's rehearsal dinner in that outfit exactly.

"Why're you smiling like that?" asked Tom, tilting his head to the side.

Mary shook her head. "Just thinking." He really was part of her family now... her and George wouldn't have come this far without him. It made her infinitely grateful to know Sybil had chosen him to be in her life... because now he was a part of Mary's.

Mary was about to tell him her own fears about Edith when the strains of a familiar song began playing. She froze, mouth open.

"Mary? Mary, what's wrong?" Tom stopped moving as well, looking at her with concern.

Mary was briefly transported to a simpler time when she had been just a girl on a date with a boy, eating candy floss at the fair and gripping his hand on the Ferris wheel. She remembered letting her arms wrap around his neck as they swayed back and forth in a field as the song blasted from a speaker. "This song's from my favorite movie," revealed Matthew, lips twitching.

"Your favorite movie is The Lion King?" Mary remembered asking dubiously, determined not to be too charmed by him. It was the Elton John version playing, but it was obvious what he was referring, too.

"My father took me to the theaters to see it. I don't know where Mother was... but he passed away a short time afterwards," Matthew told her. "It's one of the last memories I have of him."

Mary had immediately felt like a bitch for teasing him about it, but thankfully Matthew hadn't seen it that way. Their next date had been spent at her shared flat with Anna, curled up on the couch under the same blanket, watching that very same movie. Mary had even made popcorn— she had burned it in the microwave and the flat had smelled for a week, but Matthew insisted it was the thought that counted. They had sang Can You Feel the Love Tonight? to one another, pleasantly surprised by one another's vocal abilities. It was their first dance at their wedding...

It was their song, simply put.

Tom didn't know the full story, but he knew the last part well enough. He had been the best man, after all. "Shit," he said quietly. Then, "Do you want to go?"

She didn't want to ruin things. It was Papa's birthday— but at the moment, Mary felt nothing but pain. All she could manage was a nod, ducking her head down, and Tom lead her through the crowd.

June 22, 2014

Mary stood outside the office, dressed in a sleek purple dress, cursing. Her phone battery was running low— Thank God there was a charger in her car. She could recharge it as she drove into York.

Tom was going to some event for work, reporting on a political fundraiser. He was allowed to bring a guest— "I know it's not your sort of thing, but—" He shrugged. "I thought you might want to come."

He was right. It wasn't her sort of thing; Mary wasn't invested in politics. She paid attention to what was going on, sure, but it wasn't her passion like it was Tom's. Nevertheless, she had agreed to go—

Now if only Mr. Blake would show up.

Evelyn had texted her three days ago, informing her that Blake had managed to clear time for her in his very busy schedule for Monday. "But why?" asked Mary, jaw dropping. "I spilled champagne all over him."

"Well, it was an accident," Evelyn said. Mary was glad they were talking to one another on the phone— if they were standing in front of one another, he would have seen her guilty expression... though he clearly believed her champagne incident was a mishap. "He won't hold that against you."

Evelyn informed Mary then about Blake's interest in the new petting zoo. "Won't you be coming?" asked Mary, hopeful he would be there as well.

"I'm afraid not," Evelyn said, sounding genuinely upset. "My aunt and uncle have invited me over for dinner that night. They found out I was in the area and I couldn't really say no. Hopefully we'll be able to meet up again, though?"

So Mary was stuck waiting as dusk approached, frantically glancing at the time. Finally, Blake's Civic approached. He stepped out after turning off the engine and his headlight. "Goodness," he said, looking her up and down, as he stepped out of the vehicle. "I'm rather shabbily dressed. I didn't know farm animals demanded such respect."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I actually have something going on this evening. So we'll have to make this snappy."

Blake raised his eyebrows. "Should I drive us there, then?" He offered. "It is accessible through the road, right?"

"Since the idea is to transport schoolchildren there for field trips, yes, it is," said Mary. "And perhaps it would be best."

Mary was surprised by how cleanly the interior of his car was. It still retained that new car smell, even though it was at least ten years old. Blake started up the car, which began playing Dance Dance by Fall Out Boy. "You can change the music if you want," offered Blake, offering her his phone, attached to the AUX cord.

"No, this song is fine," said Mary. This song reminded her of Sybil and that one year where she had insisted on wearing thick eyeliner and delighted in horrifying Mama and Papa by dying her hair black. It made her nostalgic for what she realized now was a much simpler time... even though it had come with its own trials and tribulations.

Mary directed him to the barn, where several piglets, chickens, a calf, some lambs, three ponies, and a donkey now resided. "What will you do with them once they grow up?" asked Blake, inspecting the calf before holding out a hand, which was promptly licked.

Mary shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I was thinking of maybe adding the adult animals to some sort of historical thing— to give perspective on how the farmers did things. Maybe we could have someone show them how to milk the cow?" She shrugged. "If we have enough milk, we could use it for the café up at the house."

Blake raised his eyebrows. "You've put a great deal of thought into this."

"It wasn't just my family who lived here," Mary said, trying not to inject bitterness into her tone, knowing he thought she fixated on her family's prestige alone. "There were tenant farmers and servants and all sorts of others— and I think it is important we tell all their stories."

He took a step back, giving her a strange look. If Mary had to guess, it was one of grudging respect. "Where are these piglets?" he asked.

"Outside." She gestured to the door at the back of the barn. "Do you have an interest in pigs, then?"

"Some. There used to be some at my neighbor's farm," Blake said casually. "I always liked going to see them as a child." He lead the way to the back of the barn. Mary's pace slowed. He was actually being... pleasant. What had happened to the rude man from the party?

The placid mood didn't last long. "What do you mean they're almost dead?" demanded Mary, nearly hysterical as she stared down at the piglets, two of which were laying in the dirt, breathing shallowly.

"They knocked their water over!" Blake had crawled into the pen, inspecting them. "They're dehydrated!"

"Should I call the vet?" asked Mary, frantic.

"There's no time!" Blake was climbing out of the pen, working the buttons on his jacket. "He won't make it in time, and it will be costly to call him out this late. No," he said, casting his jacket to the side, "I can manage it, but only if we act now. Where's the nearest source of water?"

"In the barn!" Mary lead him to it.

When he began filling up a pail, Mary picked one up herself, readying herself to place hers under the spout once he was finished. "What are you doing?" Blake asked.

"Helping you." When he gave her an incredulous look, she said, "They're my pigs!"

The expression was wiped off his face. He nodded before questioning, "What about your thing? The political event?"

"He can do without me. He'll understand once I explain it to him." She sat the pail down, reaching into her purse.

"Hello?" Tom picked up on the second dial.

"Tom? It's me."

"I know. What's up? Are you almost here?"

"Not even close. Listen, I'm sorry, but I can't make it," she said quickly. "I'm so sorry, but something happened with the pigs. They're almost on the brink of death—"

"Oh my God!"

"I won't be able to make it," she reiterated. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could—"

"It's fine. Go save your pigs. I'll manage the evening by myself."

"You're a darling," said Mary, breathing a sigh of relief. She was filling up her own bucket now. "I have to go. Thank you so much for understanding."

"It's no problem. Good luck!"

She hung up before running to help Mr. Blake.

After what felt like eons, her and Mr. Blake sat on a bale of hay, covered in mud and bits of straw. Her shoes were ruined, dress practically unsalvageable. She knew she looked a fright, but thankfully Blake did as well, so she was in good company.

"Is it over?" She panted, out of breath.

He shook his head. "Not yet. I want to give them some more water later. Make sure they'll be okay." He met her eye. "I can drive you back to your car."

Mary shook her head. "Like I said, they're my pigs. I need to make sure they're alright."

He tilted his head to the side. "I misjudged you. I'm sorry for that." She was taken by surprise. "I've been visiting plenty of estates run by members of the old family and they're almost all convinced they know better and completely unreceptive to my advice, despite it being in their best interests. I thought you were like that. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

It was an honest apology. Mary's lips twitched. "If you had met me before I knew my husband, you probably would have been right," Mary told him, thinking of the girl she had once been. "But I must admit, I misjudged you, too."

"Really? Who did you think I was?"

"An arrogant prick."

Thankfully, he didn't take offense. Blake let out a loud laugh that seemed to echo throughout the barn. "You aren't the first person to think that," he assured her. "And I'm not entirely certain that isn't an accurate description at times." He paused. "I'm sorry I ruined your night, though."

Mary shook her head. "It's fine. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it. I was just going for Tom's sake."

"So he wasn't upset you didn't make it?"

Mary shook her head. "I feel sorry I left him in the lurch, but he understand how important this is to me."

He smiled. "You're lucky to find someone that understanding to spend your life with." Mary was confused by his phrasing before Blake said, "He sounds like a very good husband."

Mary burst into laughter now. Poor Mr. Blake looked confused before Mary explained, "Tom's not my husband."

"Oh." Blake seemed to comprehend things. "I thought the name wasn't right. Evelyn's mentioned your husband to me a few times... I thought it was something else."

"His name was Matthew." She stared down at her waterlogged shoes. Before he could ask, she said, "He's dead now. There was a car crash... it's been about a year now." It was a lot of information and a lot of painful memories to sift through all in one go, but Mary wanted to get it out of the way at once instead of slowly rehashing it all.

He sucked in a deep breath of air. "I'm so sorry. God, I feel like an arse now."

Mary shook her head. "It's not your fault. You weren't to know. Most people don't."

"Still," muttered Blake. "I don't even know what to say. I can't imagine how awful that must have been for you."

"You aren't alone in that," she assured him. "Not many people do. In fact, the only person who really understands is Tom."

Blake was quiet. "Who exactly is Tom to you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I keep forgetting..." she trailed off. "He's my brother-in-law. My sister passed away a year before Matthew did."

He nodded. "I think Evelyn said something about that, now that I think about it. I'm so sorry. I know I keep saying it but I do mean it."

Mary smiled at him. It didn't meet her eyes, but it didn't need to. "Thank you," she told him, before letting in fade away.

They were lulled into a silence. Blake leaned over suddenly. Mary wondered what he was doing until he suddenly flung mud at her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked, gasping and letting a few giggles escape her, astonished.

"You're smiling now," Mr. Blake said, almost proudly.

Figuring she had nothing to lose, Mary scooped up a handful of mud, smearing it across his face. Her fingertips grazed his lips, and when he spat it out, trying to wipe it away and only succeeded wiping it further onto his face, Mary only laughed harder.

July 23, 2015

It was past two in the morning before Mary and Charles (as he requested she call him) walked back to his car. "I feel awful about dirtying up your car," lamented Mary, before giggling when she realized how bad it sounded. Goodness, she was tired. She wasn't normally this giggly.

Charles heard the accidental double entendre as well but thankfully didn't comment on it. "Don't worry," he said easily, smirking to himself. "I'll be getting it dirty myself."

He drove them back to her car by the office, an unfamiliar song playing but one Mary liked a great deal. She was going to ask for the name when he pulled up beside her car. "Thank you," she said to him genuinely. "You saved my bacon. Literally."

They both laughed at that. "I hope you won't be eating them soon. I took great care to ensure the children could pet them." He smiled. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"But it was. I owe you a drink— or a dinner. Or possibly even both."

"I'd like that," said Charles, beaming at her. "I'll give you my number, if you like?"

Mary stared down at her phone, clicking the home button, only to stare at blank screen. "Shit. My phone's dead," she told him.

"Okay. Give me yours, then, and I'll text you."

After Mary finished giving him her number, they exchanged farewells. She trudged over to her car, sad that the seat would be muddied, but it couldn't be helped. She stared up the car, plugging her phone into the charger, and turned on the radio. She would need it to stay awake on the ride back to the village.

The lights were on downstairs when Mary got home. She frowned as she parked the car in the garage next to Tom's. What was he doing up at this time? He had work tomorrow... and oh, God, so did she.

Tom was already waiting for her in the kitchen when she stepped into the house. "Oh, thank God," he breathed, crossing the room to... hug her? Mary stood still as Tom pulled her close in his arms. She cringed to think of the mud that was going to end up on his light grey tee shirt. "I was so worried about you—"

"There was no need," Mary assured him, though she was touched he was so worried.

"You didn't answer your phone—"

"It died," she explained. She reached into her purse, where she had deposited it. "I haven't even turned it back on yet. See?" She clicked the buttons to prove it to him.

Tom didn't look any more at ease. "Well, you scared me. I thought something had happened to you. Please don't do that again." There were twin smudges of brown on his shirt. As she noticed this, he seemed to finally take note of her appearance. "What happened to you? Were you wrestling in the mud with that Blake fellow?"

"I told you, the pigs were going to die. They were dehydrated, so Charles and I had to give them some water." Mary kicked her shoes off, stared down at them, then picked them up and threw them in the bin.

"Charles?"

"Mr. Blake," she clarified quickly, deciding to do the same to her stockings. She was certain she had worn a hole in the soles... and sure enough, she was correct. It was with only slight embarrassment that she shimmied out of them in Tom's presence before they joined the shoes.

Tom frowned. "The dickhead who insulted you?" He said, repeating her exact phrase that she had referred to him as following the party.

"Yes... but he's actually quite decent. And he apologized for his behavior, which is something." It hit Mary how exhausted she felt. "I'd love to tell you everything right now, but I need to take a shower and go to bed. Can we talk in the morning, please? I need as much sleep as I can to function tomorrow." She felt terribly rude, dismissing him like this, but every second standing here explaining things was one second not spent in her bed.

Tom's eyes widened. "Of course!" He stepped aside. "But do you think it's a good idea to go in tomorrow?"

"I'll be fine," Mary said, not certain she would but unwilling to admit otherwise. "I want to hear all about your night, too, so be ready to tell me everything tomorrow," she told him before staggering up the stairs. She gripped the railing, her legs aching in protest. She couldn't believe she had done everything tonight in heels—

The warm shower was a blessing. Mary nearly fell asleep in the shower, it felt so wonderful. She only bothered to dry herself off before crawling under the covers of her bed, not even bothering with pajamas. She turned her phone on, plugging it into the charger.

Upon turning back on, Mary's phone revealed she had missed five calls from Tom, had several unread messages from him, mostly asking her where she was and if she was alright... and one text from an unknown number that read:

Hey, this is Charles.

In spite of everything, Mary smiled before her eyes fell shut.