Chapter 22
Small Heath
#6 Watery Lane
Saturday Jan. 17, 1920
Evening time
Tommy POV
Tommy sat in his bed, the picture of Aoife sitting on his side table facing him so he could look at her while he fell asleep and see her when he woke. He was running the letter Aoife had written to him between his fingers, getting ready to open it and see what she had to say.
When he'd come back to the den after running an errand this afternoon Lizzie had handed it to him. He could tell she'd been curious about the feminine handwriting but she hadn't said anything. She'd given him his messages and asked if he needed anything, before she'd returned to sit at her desk. He was sure that she had noted the fact that he'd pocketed the letter instead of opening it. He hoped Lizzie truly understood that nothing personal was going to be happening between them.
Tommy slipped a letter opener over the top of the envelope and removed the folded papers from inside before placing the envelope gently on the table. Sitting back against his headboard he lit the cigarette in his mouth before he relaxed and unfolded the papers to see her neat pretty feminine scrawl filling the page.
Have you ever noticed how difficult it is to decide how to begin a letter? One word before a name, what's difficult about that? Typically, one would find the use of the word Dear perfectly acceptable. I tried it. I did. I began writing to you by saying Dear Tommy...yet when I read it, it just didn't seem to fit right.
In case it's escaped your notice, I'm not really a letter writer. The only time I wrote letters consistently was to Alfie during the war. I guarantee their contents were much different from yours. I believe I simply started his with his name. No Dear what so ever just Alfie, before I filled the page with as much nonsense as I could in order to raise his spirits.
Now that you've been made aware at how utterly untrained I am in the correct traditions of writing, I'll start my letter.
Dec. 30, 1919
Tommy,
Dear Tommy,
Dearest Tommy,
See what I mean? It just doesn't have the right ring to it, does it.
I'd like to regale you with tales of all the things that have happened since we parted. It would make writing this letter easier, however, nothing has happened. The skies have remained a clear winter gray and the winds have been gentle and kindly. Sailing has been smooth and your family has settled in quite well.
Finn has been a nonstop fountain of questions about everything from the workings of the ship to the different and varied crew positions. Thankfully my siblings have taken to him and give him all the answers he desires. The crew have also taken him under their wing and are more than happy to show him what they do.
Michael has been a big help to Ada with the children and the two of them seem to manage keeping the little ones occupied and out of any trouble. We've come up with a schedule for their learning and Joseph has agreed to be their teacher for the duration of their stay. He may not be an actual teacher in the basic sense but I assure he's more than capable of ensuring the children's educations do not suffer while they're aboard. And yes before you ask, it's the same Joseph that accompanied me to our first meeting.
I know we'll speak in a few days and some of what I've written will probably be obsolete as we'll discuss it during our scheduled Monday check ins. But once you receive this letter perhaps you won't care about repeating topics.
The stars have begun to twinkle outside and your family has taken to making a habit of sitting on deck to watch them as they come to life. I'm going to join them shortly and I may or may not dream of you tonight.
Please know that regardless you're in and over my heart. A fact that you made sure I'd remember, when you gave me my Christmas gift. Seems your name along with various other bits of information about you is displayed prominently around my neck for all to see.
Being a man, I imagine this knowledge gives you some sense of peace. That you've left your mark, staked your claim, declared your ownership...I'm certain there must be more ways to say the same thing but I think these are sufficient to what must be going through that clever mind of yours.
I do wear them all the time, even when I sleep. The only time they are removed is when I bathe, at least until I find a way to make them waterproof. Then they will not leave my body again.
Can you picture it Tommy? Me, standing before you in nothing but your discs which hang over my heart? Or perhaps you'd imagine me in your discs and a set of my under things? I'm looking forward to showcasing the electric blue set that I have, for you.
I hope you sleep well and that your dreams are pleasant...I think the answer to the beginning of my letters to you has just come to me...
Remember -Me, eventually Naked, in Your Tags, maybe we can both have sweet dreams.
Ever Yours,
Aoife
Tommy couldn't help but close his eyes and conjure up the exact picture she'd begun to create for him. The firelight bouncing off the copper of her hair. A smirk on her lips or maybe she was biting her bottom lip again. Doing it on purpose because she knew it drove him mad. Her eyes sparkling with happiness and that little bit of something darker, desire for him.
He reached over and stubbed his cigarette out in his empty glass. Folding the papers he placed them on top of the envelope they came in. He'd read the second one tomorrow. Happy for the moment that she'd written him several times and then mailed them all together when she was able. For now he'd do as she suggested and think of her bare in his tags while he tried to fall asleep.
#6 Watery Lane
Sunday Jan. 18, 1920
Dawn
Tommy POV
He could hear the giggles of children passing in the street outside, more than likely on their way to Sunday church. He opened his eyes and was greeted with Aoife's smiling face as she tried to keep cool in the jungle atmosphere of her picture. Seeing her brought back the fantasy he'd indulged in before bed. She had been right in her letter, he'd had sweet dreams. He wouldn't have even minded if he hadn't dreamed of Aoife last night because he hadn't heard any shovels or picks and that was sweet in itself.
Reaching over to the table he picked up the folded papers of her letters and placed the one he'd read last night behind the rest. He laid back down against his pillow and began to read her second letter.
Jan. 2, 1920
My Tommy,
We've left the sight of land behind and are well on our way across the Atlantic, or as you Britain's say, we are on our way across the pond. I've always wondered why the English call it a pond?
Anyhow, we're continuing to be blessed with good weather and I'm knocking on wood right now to make sure I don't jinx us. I've gotten back to my schedule which I must admit I was absolutely horrible at sticking to when we were docked in London.
I run the deck ten times before heading below to spar with a couple members of the crew. Depending on how well I do at my sparring matches I'll either shower or head to the galley for a spot of breakfast. I'm happy to say I did well, so I treated myself to one of Aine's fresh baked scones. She makes the most delicious cranberry pear scones. Thankfully she managed to pick up fresh ingredients for them when we were in England.
The kids have been doing very well with both adjusting to air travel and engaging in the their studies. Finn has shown a particular interest in learning about every position on ship and has asked me if it would be possible for him to have a more in depth look at all the major positions. I've assigned him a schedule after he finishes his studies. He'll spend 4-5 days following around one person and getting a better idea of that positions duties. It's keeping him quite busy, but he hasn't complained and he's always ready to share what he's learned at supper.
Oh! Ada helped me cook for the crew last night and that was interesting. She was beside herself when I stationed her in front of thirty pounds of potatoes and told her to peel them. She was certain there was no way she'd be able to peel them all, not only in a timely manner but without skinning her fingers raw. I eventually took pity on her and moved her to chopping up the veg. She did show her kitchen skills to perfection when she made the biscuits though, the crew were very satisfied with them.
Sadly I must end this letter, short as it is. It's my turn to man the night shift, so I won't be sleeping tonight and I must try to keep my mind focused on the task at hand. I regrettably end this letter on a serious note. Perhaps in the next I'll put pen to paper and describe one of my dreams of you, in great detail.
Ever Yours,
Aoife
He had to admit her opening did make him feel like his gut was twisting with pleasure, her Tommy indeed. With her last letter speaking about his claim on her, she was showing her own claim on him. He could feel the smile gracing his face and allowed it.
Tommy considered reading her next letter but by the amount of noise coming from outside and the sounds of his own family moving about he knew he needed to get up and start his day. He carefully stuffed the letters back into the envelope. Rising from bed he placed it on the top shelf of his wardrobe, pushing it towards the back and placing his shaving kit in front of it.
He dressed quickly and headed down to the kitchen for his breakfast before he'd sequester himself in his office. He had plans that needed alteration after his meeting with Inspector Taylor. The next time he spoke safely with Aoife he'd have to see just how much he'd be able to alter his original plan by.
Small Heath
#6 Watery Lane
Monday Jan. 19, 1920
Evening
Polly POV
They'd all been sat in the sitting room waiting for the bell to ring. Unfortunately it never did. They all knew that there were times when it would be impossible for the Adelisa to get a line out and not to be worried by it. They'd all been looking forward to hearing the voices of their missing family members though. It was a bit of a letdown to know the next chance they'd get was a week away.
The boys had taken to bringing a couple of bottles of their own liquor home since the Garrison was still under construction. She figured they would all call it a night once their current bottle was finished.
Looking around the room she found herself pondering the changes that had occurred within the last months time. Arthur wasn't nearly as drunk as he normally was, whether that was because he could no longer go to the Garrison for a drink or because he was working on getting the Garrison up and running again was anyone's guess. It had certainly seemed to improve his mood, he didn't seem nearly as prone to his depressions.
John was sitting on the couch with his wife Esme beside him. His arm wrapped around her shoulder as she cuddled cozily into his side. They both seemed to be happy and content in their new marriage, as surprising and unwanted as it had been for them both. So far Esme had mostly remained an outsider. She didn't really speak much and truthfully they'd all been busy with taking care of business. So Polly supposed she would have to make an effort to get to know the girl soon. She had to admit she'd been helpful when it came to making the meals and keeping the house up.
Tommy was constantly out and about gathering information and formulating his plans. She would need to confront him soon about what his plans entailed. He hadn't seen fit to share anything with any of them yet. He had seemed to warm up, if she used Ada's description of him. He was no longer emitting that severe coldness. His presence in a room still commanded attention and respect but it no longer felt as though the temperature dropped ten to twenty degrees upon his entrance. She had Aoife to thank for that.
She'd seen Lizzie studying an envelope that had arrived in the post this past Saturday. As she'd walked past her desk she'd discreetly studied the handwriting and had been happy to note it wasn't another unwanted letter from Grace. The post mark had said Virginia of the Colonies, she'd known then that Aoife had written to Tommy. With the lost connections and the times like tonight when ringing on the bell was impossible those letters would help keep Tommy grounded, continue to give him that feeling of connection with Aoife.
Perhaps the next time she spoke with Michael she could ask him if he might have time to write to her as well. She didn't want to seem too pushy or needy, she was constantly worried that she'd push him away.
Tommy POV
After cleaning up Tommy reached behind his shaving kit and pulled out the envelope he'd placed there the previous day. He headed towards his bed and got as comfortable as possible before lighting his last cigarette of the night and flipping to Aoife's next letter.
January 5, 1920
My Tommy,
It's Monday so I know that I will hopefully be hearing your voice this evening. Right now it is only mid-morning and I had some free time to myself so I decided to write you. We've heard from relay dispatches about a low pressure system. It looks like we'll be entering it within the next twenty four hours. This could potentially slow down our crossing a bit depending on how much strength it decides to throw at us.
In case this has you worrying, don't. The worst it will cause is a delay in our schedule and perhaps some cases of motion sickness. All in all, it will be the best possible inclement weather to introduce your family, to dealing with rough weather on an airship.
On a different note, Ada has asked me to teach her some self defense moves. She seems to think that you would take some issue with this. I'm telling you now that I agreed to teach her. I see no harm in teaching a woman how to protect herself should she need to. If you find you have issue with this, well, too bad. We can argue about it when I return. Arguing might even be fun, after all, we'll get to make up afterwards.
I've got her running laps and doing some yoga poses to start. In case you're thinking what the fuck is that, they're stretches designed to help with strength and flexibility. If you already knew what I was talking about well then Bravo. I don't think I should ever under estimate what knowledge you keep locked away in that head of yours.
I can't even begin to tell you the helpfulness in everyday life that practicing yoga can bring. Wait a moment you've already been privy to some of its benefits. I do recall your lovely office chair, my flexibility helped wonders that last time we sat in it.
I hope you don't mind my teasing. I find that my mind occupies itself with both memories and fantasies. I try to maintain a sensible disposition during waking hours. I have absolutely no control over my dreams of you though.
If I'm not mistaken I did make mention in my previous letter that I'd share one with you. Hm. Which one? Memory or dream...
I can't tell you how often I've found myself waking sweaty and in tangled sheets. Thoughts of you flitting through my head as I slowly surface into wakefulness. I must admit your office is a favorite setting of mine. I'm guessing it's because of the fond memories I have in that room.
The most recent dream, I remember in broken flashes, sometimes an image and sometimes a feeling. Some things, memories that my dreams want me to relive.
Your lips, soft and smooth pressing down lightly on my skin. The touch of your fingertips, roughened with calluses coasting along my flesh just the whisper of a feeling.
The solid smoothness of your chest against mine as my own lips drag across your collar bone and shoulder, reaching for the line of your neck. I can feel the palm of your hand, your strength, your heat. Pressing firmly into my skin as you drag it down my side before smoothing it over my waist and pulling my body in tighter to yours. As if we could possible get any closer.
Hm. Have I told you that I enjoy touching you. Exploring the vast expanse of your skin. Counting the freckles I discover. Finding my own constellations written across your body, silently guiding me. The way you taste on my tongue. The intriguing mix of flavors that I found, just there on your neck, where your pulse beats it's rhythm. A bit of salt, a bit of sweet, a bit of spice and all sin.
You make me want to moan in pleasure when I feel each of your fingertips gripping tightly into my hips. A dominance. Leaving their marks on my skin for me to glance over days after, a silent claim. How you make me shiver when your teeth graze my shoulder and you bite down ever so gently. And the way you make me hum when I feel your hand in my hair. Gasp when you tug on it just so, cause you want my lips to part for you.
I enjoy feeling your stubble skim across the various planes of my body. Your tongue, warm and wet as it flicks out every so often for a taste of your own. Me stretching towards you, against you, back arching like bow being pulled taut, I can't get close enough.
I have a fascination with your shoulders and neck, the curve where they meet. Where I can kiss, and taste, and smell you. That scent, that fucking indefinable scent that makes me want to climb into your lap and purr. The sloping solid lines of the muscles in your body shifting, leaving me in anticipation for what you'll do next.
My fingers enjoy tracing your lines, makes my breath catch to feel the ridges of your spine as your hips press into mine.
Hm. So, so many things that I want to do to you and with you when there is more time.
Ever Yours,
Aoife
Tommy's breathing was ragged and his breath sighed out as he muttered, fuckin hell, into the emptiness of his room, his tongue licking out across his dry lips. Setting what was left of his forgotten cigarette in the glass on his stand. He took a deep breath and let it out before he went back and read it again.