A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews last chapter! I hope everybody's holidays went well and that 2021 is treating you better than 2020 thus far!
New Normal
Chapter Twenty Three
"I can help," insisted Mary as Tom took the pails of paint from her hands.
"Those are heavy."
"Not very. I'm perfectly capable of carrying them." She crossed her arms over her chest. As much as she loved Tom, he still could exasperate her with his attempts at gallantry.
They were standing in the middle of George's new room. The building process had ended just a few days ago; all that needed to be done was adding furniture and painting the walls. George had asked if he could help do it, to which Mary and Tom readily agreed.
Put out and irritable, Mary glowered at Tom's back as he bent over, setting the paint cans down. "Let me guess: you aren't going to let me climb on the stepladder to paint the walls, either."
He turned around slowly and she could see the answer written all over his face. "I don't want you getting hurt," Tom replies tersely.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Tom! I'll be fine! It's not dangerous and the doctor says we're all perfectly healthy!"
"Well, that's what they told Sybil, too."
Mary sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain as calm as possible as conflicting sadness and anger swirled around inside her. "I understand why you are worried. Truly, I do. But this isn't the same thing." When he said nothing, simply carrying on with preparing things for the painting process, she only grew more frustrated. "Are you going to say anything."
"No."
"And why not?"
"Because I don't want to argue with you."
"No, you don't want to argue. You just want to tell me what I can and cannot do."
Those were the words that finally made his head snap up and for him to look at her. "That's not what I'm doing!"
"Isn't it?" demanded Mary. "You've forbidden me from using the stepladder. Do I need your permission to do the laundry or sit on the sofa?"
"Oh, don't be like that, Mary! That isn't it at all! I just want to to be safe!"
"And you don't think I know how to keep myself safe?" demanded Mary. "Do you really think I'd let any harm come to the babies or myself?"
"Don't put words in my mouth! That isn't what I was saying!"
It was just now that Mary realized how close they were standing. A powerful surge of desire shot through her, much to her surprise. This didn't seem like the time... but God, she wanted him.
With little warning even from herself, Mary leaned forward and kissed him, needing to quell and stoke her desire at the same time. She was fairly certain she had taken him by surprise for it took Tom a moment before he finally responded with equal passion. Her hands began tangling in his hair as his slid down her body. Mary hadn't even realized they were moving back up until she felt her spine come into contact with the door.
Instinct began taking over instead of logic. Mary began trying to wrap a leg around Tom's waist when he broke their kiss. "No," he gasped out, trying to gain his breath. His hand moved to her calf, sliding her leg down. "We can't, love, not here in George's room..."
"I need you," she choked out, half begging him. Under normal circumstances, she never would have admitted a thing but Mary felt like she had been driven mad in the span of only a few minutes. She knew it was mainly her hormones, but there was always a part of her that wanted Tom.
Tom nodded, leaning forward to kiss her again before pulling away and saying, "We'll go upstairs. To our room. I'll send the kids outside to play."
"Outside?"
"I think it might be best," said Tom, voice lower. "Who knows how much noise we'll make?"
It was excruciating to part from him after that tantalizing promise but Mary reminded herself it wouldn't be long as she heard him knocking on Sybbie's bedroom door and saying something about going outdoors to "enjoy the lovely sunshine".
Mary felt content, sprawled across her bed, heartbeat having slowed some time ago. Her eyes were closed, even as Tom pressed kisses against her collarbone and his fingers twitched against the side of her breast. There was no urgency, none of that furious intensity they'd had so short a time ago. She liked being able to lay here and bask in this with him.
"You know we still haven't finished our argument yet," she said without opening her eyes.
Tom's kisses stopped. Mary wished he hadn't but she couldn't really blame him. She felt his warm breath as he sighed. "I know."
Mary cracked her eyes open as Tom moved himself over to lay on her pillows. They were on the opposite sides of the bed that they usually slept on. It felt strange but Mary was hardly going to insist they switch... and she didn't have much motivation to do so in the first place. "I understand that you're worried about me and I'm not upset with you for it. But I want to be help and useful for as long as I can be."
"I know that. And I'm sorry." Tom reached out, moving a stray piece of hair out of the way. "I just find myself thinking about everything that could go wrong. I mean, at first it was easier... but now..." He glanced down at her stomach, which was now quite noticeable. She was officially no longer able to fit into any of her old clothes.
"Are you calling me fat?" Mary arched an eyebrow, teasing him.
Tom laughed. "No. I'm only saying it's not possible for me to forget anymore." He reached out to touch it. It was his favorite thing to do, not that he could feel them.
Mary nodded, shifting closer to him. "I wouldn't do anything to put them into harm's way. I love them, too."
"I know." Tom kissed her forehead. "You're a good mother."
Mary swallowed. "I really want to help," she said, needing to impress the importance of this on him. "It's— Well, I just know I'm going to miss George terribly once he goes into his new room." She blinked. "He's always been down the hall from me and I know it's silly, but he's going to feel so far away..."
"It isn't silly. It's a big step." Tom kissed her temple now. "I didn't want to make you feel like you couldn't be involved."
Mary nodded. "I just know I can't really help with moving many things in there and I want to do something nice for him." She let her head rest on his chest.
"Of course you do." She felt his lips at the top of her head now. It was as if he couldn't stop. She couldn't resist smiling. "I didn't want you to feel like you couldn't. I was just— Well, I'm a little worried about the step ladder—"
Mary rolled her eyes. "I never had any intentions of getting on it, you know. I was just so riled up." She moved her head to kiss his chest. "In more ways than one."
She heard his breath hitch. Mary smiled and did it again. "You know," he said, hand moving down her back, "if this is what happens when we fight, I think we should have them more often."
"Good thing I enjoy a good argument," quipped Mary. Her hand slid to his hip. "Besides... Why do you think I told you that you'd never have to sleep on that damnable couch again?"
Tom let out a loud laugh before pulling her up to kiss her. Mary reciprocated, hand on his cheek. She pulled away to gaze into his eyes, admiring that lovely shade of blue. "In all seriousness, I do hate it when we fight. I don't like it when you and I aren't on the same page."
"I hate it, too. It doesn't feel right." They exchanged adoring smiles before Tom said, "I'm glad we're not fighting anymore. We can start making up."
Mary opened her mouth to laugh, only for a moan slipped out instead as Tom's fingers stroked her.
Mary supposed it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that Isobel was among the first of the family to come around. She called Mary on George's birthday asking to speak to him and inquiring after her pregnancy. "Cora said something about you having problems with morning sickness. I wondered if I could be any help."
Mary was somewhat pleased this interaction was taking place over the phone, for her flabbergasted expression likely would have been something to behold. It was strange, the thought of others talking about and discussing her life when they hadn't spoken to her properly in weeks. "I did, but we're past that stage now. Already into the second trimester."
"How exciting!" Isobel sounded genuinely pleased. "If— if you need any help at all or have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me."
"That's very kind of you."
"I mean it, Mary. I won't deny that I was shocked but truthfully when I look back on that conversation, all I can think is how disappointed Matthew would be in me for not being more understanding." Mary swallowed, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. "I am afraid I was rather short with you and it wasn't what you deserved, not at such a happy time. I understand if you don't want to forgive me just yet—"
"But I do." Her eyes were slowly filling with tears. It was hard, not having family to talk to about all this and update them on the developments in their life. There was Granny and Bertie, of course, who were marvelous, but she wanted to share this joy with everyone. "I don't blame you for being shocked at all. I'm sure it was the last thing you were expecting to learn about."
"You're being far kinder than I think I've earned, but I'll accept it gladly." Isobel sounded relieved. "Please extend my congratulations to Tom."
"I will."
"I admire you both," said Isobel, causing Mary's lips to curve upward. "I know it must be much different, doing this with a friend instead of a partner. Is it working out alright?"
Mary hesitated before saying, "Things have changed on that front recently."
"Have they?"
Mary braced herself for a negative reaction. Considering how well Isobel had taken the news initially, she wasn't exactly readying herself for joyous jubilation. "We're together now."
"Oh! How wonderful!" Mary's ears were trying to detect any insincerity but Isobel genuinely sounded thrilled. "I'm so pleased!"
"Granny didn't tell you?"
"Your grandmother's been guarding your secrets fiercely. Your parents have asked her about all of you and she keeps telling them to direct their questions to you."
Mary managed a laugh. Classic Granny... She felt a surge of gratitude towards her grandmother.
"I know it might be hard for you to believe it but once I started getting over the shock of it all, I couldn't help but think it was a shame you two weren't together. It— Well, I don't think any of us in the family ever considered you two together, what with Matthew and Sybil, but— well, it makes so much sense, really. You're very well suited and you've always got on so well."
Mary wasn't so sure about always. She remembered those early days of when he was dating Sybil and how she couldn't possibly understand what her sister saw in him. She supposed the joke was on her. "We certainly think so," said Mary, a little dazed but gladdened.
Mary passed the phone onto George and told Tom about her conversation as the children darted into George's new room to describe it to Isobel. "I'm a little surprised," he said, blinking. "You know, out of the whole family, her reaction was the one I understood the most."
Mary frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
Tom looked as if he wished he hadn't spoke. Nevertheless, he quietly said, "I... I know you miss them. And I miss them too, really. I wish things weren't like this. But... I'm angry with them, too."
Mary's eyes widened. It wasn't like Tom to harbor such resentment towards the family— at least not anymore. He was their peace keeper in many ways, careful not to offend. He didn't take sides in arguments, not even when Mary railed her case against Edith. "You never said."
"Because I know it makes you sad to dwell on all that," said Tom, reaching for her hand. "Which upsets me even more, and I didn't want to burden you."
"Your feelings aren't a burden."
"Maybe not," agreed Tom. "But given all the stress you've already had with them and with me, not to mention the fact we're in a pandemic..." he trailed off. "It's a lot for you to deal with and I didn't want you worrying about one more thing when I'm sure I'll get over it."
"It has been a lot," admitted Mary. There was an immense strain, balancing all these things... but she hated that Tom felt guilty. "But I would much rather you talk to me than bottle things in. Things are different now between us... and I don't wanting us taking steps back instead of moving forward."
Tom nodded. "I know that. I'll try to be better. I just— I didn't want to be negative and angry all the time."
Mary shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I'm angry, too. I think I miss them more, but sometimes when I think of the way they spoke to you, I feel absolutely furious." Despite how harsh her words felt to say, it relieved her to finally say them. "So I empathize."
Tom sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It's just— We didn't do anything wrong and yet they acted like we did. I understand their surprise, but—" He stopped abruptly, as if he couldn't continue on that train of thought. "And it reminds me of how it was with Sybil, at the beginning. Your father was so against us having a baby... and now it seems like there's more people against us now. And I feel like an outsider again."
It hurt Mary's heart to hear him talk like that. She wanted to jump in and try to soothe his thoughts but he wasn't done yet.
"But I understood it with Isobel more. She's— She was Matthew's mother. And you were his wife and I was his friend... And I just s understood why she was shocked. But for everyone else, it just..."
Mary didn't make any excuses for their shock. Instead, she reached out and took his hand. "You're far from an outsider. I don't blame you for feeling that way, but you'll always be a member of our family. And not just because of the children, but because you're my family." A part of her worried about saying that, knowing it was still early days with them. She had no idea what the future held: suppose later on they realized they were incompatible in some way? But even with these worries, Mary was confident that Tom would always be a part of her life, regardless of what that role was, and even if this relationship didn't work out.
Thankfully, her words did the trick. Tom smiled, the tension visibly easing from him. He pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth, which earned an "Ew!" from Sybbie, who had only just entered the room. Mary knew she didn't mean it, though. The children had taken well to the fact their parents were together and finally a "normal" couple— it was their word, for Mary was perfectly willing to admit nothing with her and Tom was normal.
However, Isobel wasn't the only member of the family seeking contacting them that day. Mama texted Mary to ask if she could arrange a Zoom call for them and the children and Edith texted Tom with well wishes for George's birthday and to inform them his gift would be arriving that day or the next. Mary simply sent Mama an invitation through Zoom and set the laptop up for the children with no word and Tom sent Edith a terse response on George's behalf. They were in agreement; until apologies were made, there was no truce. The children were blameless so they wouldn't keep them from their family, but Tom and Mary wouldn't engage with them for anything else.
During the Zoom call, Mary sat on a chair in the kitchen, watching Tom make George's birthday cake and speaking lowly here and there about this and that. There was something calming about it, infinitely more calming than concentrating on whatever her parents were saying in the other room.
Maybe it was why Mary abruptly rose from the chair after Tom popped the cake in the over. The mitts were warm as she took his hands in hers and kissed him slowly. She drew away enough to meet his eye, saying as quietly as possible, "I love you." His mouth opened. She worried he might feel guilty about not being able to say it back, so she interrupted by saying, "You don't have to say anything. I just needed to tell you that right now."
Mary barely had a chance to see the smile on his face before he leaned in again.
The day was not without more tension. After eating his cake, George finally had a chance to open up his presents. Tom and Mary had purchased him some things, of course, but Sybbie had a gift of her own for him. She usually liked to make her own presents, like a special drawing, but Mary knew it was considerably more elaborate than usual because she had asked Mary to borrow some wrapping paper.
However, nothing prepared Mary for what George would unwrap.
The Sonnets of William Shakespeare dropped to the floor the same time Mary's stomach did. George stared at it open mouthed before crawling over to Sybbie. "Thank you, thank you!" He hugged her, so tightly that Sybbie began insisting she couldn't breathe.
Mary was in shock, unable to fathom the fact her niece had wrapped up one of Sybil's beloved poetry books and bequeathed it to George. "Sybbie, why did you give him that?" She said once she finally regained her voice.
"Because it's his favorite," Sybbie stated, as if it were perfectly obvious.
"Look, Mummy!" George ran up to her, holding the book in his hands and flipping through the thin pages until he came across the one he was looking for. "See? Aunt Sybil had pretty handwriting." He jabbed at the margins of the page, where Sybil's faint scrawl was etched in pencil detailing the contents of Sonnet 53.
"Yes," said Mary, uncomfortable. She didn't dare look over at Tom. "She did."
"And look!" George flipped to the back of the book, to excitedly show that Sybil had drawn a picture of a frog on one of the blank pages at the end.
"You didn't have to give him that," Mary said lowly to Sybbie as George ran to fetch another present. "That belonged to your mother."
"I know. But I have a lot of her books. And Daddy said they're all mine. It's George's favorite and wanted to give it to him."
Mary was torn between adoring Sybbie for her kindness, marveling at how she truly embodied the best of her mother, while also being horrified that she was giving one of Sybil's books away. She turned to Tom now, helpless in knowing what to do and concerned about his reaction, but Tom simply sat there with a faraway look in his eyes as George proceeded to tear open his other present.
It was to be George's first night in his new room, so Mary and Tom went to tuck him in and say goodnight. When Mary glanced at his bookshelf, she saw Sybil's book sitting there already, nestled between the Harry Potter series and his collection of Greek mythology.
"Does it bother you?" Mary asked later, wetting her toothbrush as Tom dressed for bed. She stepped backward to look at him through the door. "That Sybbie gave George the book?"
Tom stilled. "No," he decided a couple seconds later, letting his button down fall to the floor before replacing it with some old tee shirt with lettering that had begun cracking and wearing off. "He seemed thrilled. Those books should be enjoyed by someone who'll appreciate them. And even though he never knew her, she was his aunt. He should have something of hers."
Mary couldn't tell how sincere he was being. It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as well as her. "Darling, if it really does bother you, I'll make him give it back," Mary promised.
Tom shook his head, his lips quirking you when she called him darling. "I mean it. It should be with someone who'll appreciate it," he said, crawling into their bed, "and I don't know how much Sybbie enjoys Shakespeare."
"I don't know how much George appreciates it," remarked Mary, remembering his interest had been more in Sybil's notes and doodling than the Bard's words. Perhaps he would when he was older.
"He might," Tom said as Mary finally began brushing her teeth. "But Sybbie— Well, I knew how much Sybil liked his plays. I never cared for them much myself, but— I took Sybbie to see Love's Labors Lost and she didn't care for it at all."
Mary laughed before spitting out the toothpaste. "You should have taken her to see Twelfth Night. That was Sybil's favorite," said Mary when she entered the bedroom, climbing in next to Tom.
"Nobody was doing it, then," Tom defended himself, but smiled nonetheless. "I don't know how big a difference it would have made. As soon as it started she was asking me why they were all 'talking funny'."
Mary laughed, thinking of a flustered Tone dealing with a four year old Sybbie at the theater, trying to quiet her down as she asked all her questions. She laid her head on his chest, gazing up at him through her eyelashes. He really was wonderful...
Tom turned the lamp out before wrapping his arms around her. She felt his lips at her forehead before he settled next to her. Her eyes were already closed, his embrace and the soft mattress beneath her far too comfortable for her to keep them open after the long day like this one.
"Maybe we can go together someday," mumbled Mary.
"What?"
"To see Shakespeare," she elaborated, albeit quite sleepily.
"Mm... maybe you should take them. You'd have more fun than I would."
"But what if I wanted you there?"
"Then I'd be there."
Mary smiled before inching even closer to her. It was just then that it occurred to her that the usual lingering ghost of Matthew had hardly haunted her at all that day. There had been moments, of course, like when she woke up and saw the date or when George blew out his candles that she was reminded that her husband had been taken all too soon, but not the way it normally did. She knew she had Tom to thank for that.
Mary wondered what Matthew would think, of her and Tom. She'd never entertained this thought with any of her previous boyfriends, not even Henry, but somehow it seemed important to consider with Tom. She thought of what Isobel had said, about him wanting her to be happy. Oddly enough, Mary felt he might approve. Tom had been his best friend; he probably would have said something about how she could have found no better man... or at least, that's what she liked to think, anyway.
And she had. She had said it, of course, but Mary wasn't certain if Tom even knew how much she loved him. She wasn't good at putting these big emotions into words. She hoped he understood, though, on some level, how much he meant to her.
Mary was almost asleep when she heard the soft knock against the door. She jumped, turning towards Tom, who was also sitting upright. He too seemed bewildered by the noise but called out, "Come in," nonetheless.
The door creaked open. George was standing in the doorway, stuffed dinosaur i his arms. "What's the matter?" Mary asked, a little groggy and disoriented.
"Nothing," said George, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I just... I'm scared to be in my room."
"But why? You were so excited earlier."
George shrugged. "It's dark and scary." There was a pause. "Can I stay in here with you tonight?"
Mary hesitated, glancing at Tom. George had only ever slept in her room a few times, and only during the period of time shortly after Tom and Sybbie had moved to America.
But Tom wasted no time reply. "Course you can." She heard George's fest pad across the floor before he climbed onto Mary's side of the bed. Thanks to the size, she didn't have to squeeze to make room for him. He used her pillow and curled up, facing her with his dinosaur tucked under his arm. Mary gave him a warm smile and a kiss on the forehead, closing her eyes as Tom muttered out a "Goodnight" intended. She was pleased when Tom's hand moved back to her stomach, just as it had been a few minutes prior.
However, sleep didn't come easily. Mary rolled onto her back when George's breathing evened out, a sigh escaping her. "Still awake?" mumbled Tom.
"Yeah."
He shifted beside her, adjusting himself. His mouth was somewhere by her neck, her hair separating his mouth from her skin. "I'll get him a nightlight tomorrow. It helped Sybbie. When we were in America."
"Was it terribly hard on her?"
Tom nodded. "I think it took a couple weeks before she would stay in her room. She missed her home."
Home. Maybe it was just her hormones again, but Mary wanted to burst into tears. Even then, she had hated losing them both. The house had felt so empty without them. Mary wished she could be certain of the future and what it held, and where her and Tom were going... but Mary knew there were no answers.
So all she could say was, "I'm so happy that you're here." Not just in Downton, not just in the house, but in her bed and in her life. She was too tired to articulate it properly, and even if she hadn't, she suspected her problem of putting big feelings into words would have made her fumble it.
"I am, too." His lips were at her temple. "So happy."
Two weeks later, Papa tried to ring her. She missed the first call, switching a load of laundry from the washed to the dryer, but saw the second one after she went to join Tom on the sofa, pleased to have some time alone with him. George and Sybbie were uninterested in the movie they were watching and were instead playing in George's room.
Mary frowned at her phone, wondering what it was about. Oh, well. She could call him back later, when she was more equipped to deal with him. Right now, she wanted to have a nice, carefree evening with her boyfriend. She sat her phone down and tried to pay attention to the film Tom had just started.
However, her phone screen lit up only a minute or so later with a text.
PAPA: Mary Call me please ASAP as possible. Its urgent
"I need to call Papa," Mary said, not even looking up from her phone. "Something's happened."
Tom paused the movie as Mary's trembling fingers tried to call back. She pressed the phone to her ear, envisioning some horrible scenario. Oh, God, what was it?
She waited in suspense, Tom's hand resting on her knee. Her anxiety mouthed until she heard Papa's voice on the other end. "Mary?"
"What's wrong? What's happened?" Her hand clenched her phone.
Papa let out a sigh. "It's your mother. She's sick. It... it might be..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to say it. "She went to lunch with Sarah O'Brien week ago. They were both feeling fine but turns out Sarah's nephew has the coronavirus and exposed her... and now your mother has the most horrendous cough."
Mary took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself as best as she could presently. Half of her wanted to rage, demanding to know how her mother could be so thoughtless as to risk her own safety and Papa's while the other half of her was too terrified and concerned to worry about all that. "Has she been tested yet?" She was pleased at how level her voice was.
"Yes. I took her this afternoon. We won't know for a few more days or so."
Her eyes were rapidly filling with tears. "Thank you for letting me know."
"She's your mother. You deserve to know what's going on." He was quiet. "She wanted me to tell you. She's taking a nap right now. She's so tired..."
Mary reached up with one hand to wipe away the tears. "I'm sure she is."
"And how are you? Well, I hope?"
There it was, Papa extending the olive branch. It wasn't an apology but Mary wasn't about to demand one at present. That could be done later. "I am. Everything is as it should be."
"And Tom?"
"He's doing well, too." Mary reached for the hand on her knee, squeezing it. "If you need anything from us, please let us know. We can drop groceries off at the door or something for you."
"Thank you. I'm not sure we deserve your kindness after some of the things we said."
"Don't worry. We can quarrel later," said Mary, earning a weak laugh from her father. "Right now, all that matters is making sure you and Mama are alright. We'll help however we can."
"Thank you, my girl." Papa sounded close to tears. "I'll let you know if we need it. And we'll keep you informed."
Mary smiled, even though it was forced and for the benefit of someone who couldn't even see her. They exchanged farewells before she hung up and let her mask fall.
"What is it, then? Cora?" Tom asked. Mary turned to him and saw an expression of fear written across his features.
Mary nodded. "She may have the virus." Saying it aloud felt wrong but what else could she say? Even now, making it seem like a mere possibility sounded optimistic.
"Oh God." She didn't dare look at him. "Mary, I'm so sorry."
Mary didn't know what to say. It felt like her tongue was made of lead. She wished she had some sort of reply: either thanking him for his consideration or snapping for phrasing it as if Mama had one foot in the grave. But no words came to her, and she sat there and let Tom wrap his arm around her.
She had no idea what to do or what to say. There was that nebulous period of time after Papa's episode with his ulcer where his fate seemed uncertain but Mary knew this matter wouldn't come with an answer in an hour or two. She simply had to wait, which wasn't something she was good at.
There was very little talk after that, with her and Tom coming to an agreement not to burden the children with this until things were confirmed. She dismissed herself for bed, with Tom promising to follow her up in a while. The brush of his lips against the crown of her head detracted from the pervasive numbness but soon it came back with a vengeance once she was under the sheets all by herself.
It seemed silly, Mary mused as she faced Tom's side of the bed, but she already missed him. He was only downstairs but staring at the place he occupied made it feel as if he were a million miles away. She wanted him with her right now.
Thankfully Tom was true to his word. He was upstairs in short order. She sat upright in the bed as he began changing out of his clothes. "Hey," he said, voice breaking the still silence of the room. "How are you feeling?"
She opened her mouth to reassure him that she was alright, but no noise came out. It wasn't a lie; now that he was here, she felt much better than she had a few moments ago. She tried again, someone embarrassed when she realized that she was close to tears.
Tom abandoned his task of removing his trousers and sat on the edge of the bed. Hand seeking out hers, he squeezed tight. "You don't have to put on an act for me. You can let go. You don't have to carry it all alone." His opposite hand reached out, tucking back a strand of her dark hair. "I'm right here."
It was hard to allow herself to fall apart but once Mary did, Tom was there. Surrounded by his arms, face buried in his chest, tears and snot leaking down her face, Mary felt safe. His soft grounded her to reality, even when it felt like she was about to break down into nothingness. "I've got you." One hand rubbing between her shoulder blades. "It's okay. I've got you."
It wasn't okay. He had no way of being sure of that. None of them did. She knew he knew it, as he knew how cruel and fleeting life could be. Hearing him say it still came as a relief. It was promise he would be there by her side, not wavering for a second.
It wasn't until her sobs died in the back of her throat and her face was buried in the crook of his arm that she realized a startling truth. He loves me. She knew it without him needing to say a single word. It was palpable, something she could feel as solidly as the hand curved around her hip.
It was real.
Edith called Mary the following day to inform her about Mama, surprised when Mary was informed of the facts. "I wasn't sure if anyone had told you. It didn't seem right, leaving your in the dark... and I knew Mama and Papa weren't really speaking to you, so I thought somebody ought to."
"I appreciate that," said Mary honestly. "Really, I do." Mama herself had called Mary early in the morning, in a hoarse, raspy voice, to ask forgiveness from her eldest daughter. She expressed a desire to meet her newest grandchildren and be in their lives. Learning about Mary's relationship with Tom had (oddly enough, considering their earlier blustering about them not being a couple) been met with some disapproval, but Mama had simply said I am happy if you are happy.
There was a slight pause. "I want to apologize. For how I acted last time. I was rude."
"You were," agreed Mary, "but I forgive you."
"I owe Tom an apology as well. I know I upset him."
Mary said nothing at first. It didn't seem right, to confirm that to Edith, and she certainly wasn't about to accept an apology on Tom's behalf. Finally, after an awkward gap, Mary said, "He would appreciate it."
There was another long pause. Mary was ready to end the call when Edith let out a sigh. "It's just— I cant stop thinking that this isn't what Sybil would have wanted." Mary saw red. How was she to know what Sybil would want for Mary or Tom? At any rate, she wasn't going to let their babies be spoken of so dismissively. Her anger was only abated when Edith continued, "Us fighting like this, after all this time."
Mary let out a breath of relief and calmed herself before replying. "No. She wouldn't." Sybil was so kind and caring, always able to see the best in her and Edith. Sometimes it felt like she was seeing goodness that wasn't really there, considering how nasty they often were, especially to one another.
"Why do you think we're like this?" asked Edith, sounding so despaired.
Mary swallowed. "I don't know. Maybe we just have conflicting personalities. We probably wouldn't associate with one another if we weren't related."
"I don't want us to be like this anymore," Edith admitted. "Do you think that we could start being nicer to each other? I don't think we'll ever be the best of friends but I don't want us to fight like this."
"I don't want it to be like this, either," agreed Mary. It was time to bury the hatchet. "So let's try to be nicer and love each other like sisters should. One day it will only be the two of us who remembered her."
"And Tom," added Edith.
Mary smiled. "And Tom."
Relief came two days later when Mama called Mary with the results. "It's only a bad cold that's turned into bronchitis," Mary said, bursting into the office to tell Tom the good news without even knocking. "Which isn't great, but it's much better than the alternative."
"It most certainly is," said Tom, already smiling and lowering her onto his lap. It was a bit more of an awkward fit than before, now that Mary's pregnancy had advanced, but it worked well enough. She certainly enjoyed the nearer proximity to him, desire coiling in her stomach already. With the happy news, perhaps they could celebrate...
But an offhanded glance at the desk made Mary realize Tom's laptop screen was on, a page full of paragraphs written in a font so small she could barely read. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I thought you'd want to know," Mary said, suddenly very aware that she had intruded during her boyfriend's work day.
Tom shook his head. "No. I'm glad you told me. It's been weighing on my mind. I'll probably work better now that I don't have to worry anymore."
"I only hope her and Papa will start taking things more seriously," said Mary, holding him tighter. "I don't think they were before but I think they might now, after a brush like this."
Tom nodded. "We can only hope so."
Mary let her eyes fall shut. "Thank you," she mumbled into his hair, which she had trimmed herself a week ago when it became too shaggy, "for letting me lean on you."
"I'll always be there for you." She was very aware of his hand, which had settled on her thigh. Her breath hitched. "Whenever you need me."
Her eyes closed. "What if I needed you right now?"
"Right now?"
Mary nodded emphatically. "My hormones—"
"Say no more." Tom's lips were already on her neck as he closed his laptop, shoving it aside.
"I'm sorry," Mary said as she positioned herself on the desk, a little embarrassed at how little it took to get her like this. "I know I've been awfully needy lately—"
"Does it look like I'm complaining?" Tom interrupted, hand already shaking underneath her shirt and undoing her bra. Mary shook her head as he discarded it somewhere behind her. She met his eyes as he said, with a surprising amount of solemnity, "Believe me, I want this just as much— and as often— as you."
And if there were still any doubt in her mind, Tom made sure to obliterate them.
