It started to rain just as the reception ended. The wind picked up and they found themselves all in a massive downpour.
"Sign of good luck," people said.
The tents collapsed, the chairs were folded, soaking table cloths pulled away. Tommy and May ran off hand and hand, laughing up the walkway until Tommy took her in his arms and carried her over the threshold.
"Being carried into my own house, how romantic," she said.
"Don't be snide Mrs. Shelby."
"Mrs. Shelby, I like the sound of that, Mr. Shelby."
Tommy hung up his hat and lowered her to her feet. They were both soaking wet, but they didn't care. There was a fire in May's eyes and Tommy could feel it in his own heart as they made their way up the stairs and shut out the world around them.
Later that night, Tommy poured two glasses of the finest red wine he could find in May's wine cellar, a vintage red in the far reaches of the cellar from some ancient time.
He thought about that special bottle of wine, cobweb covered and Grace standing on a bar stool. It was only for a moment and he shook the unwanted memory away. Today was a new beginning. He was in love, he was happy, and he was a new man. He lifted both glasses carefully in his hand, full to the brim and was about to head back up the stairs when someone knocked on the door. Tommy stopped in his tracks, and set the glasses back down. His eyes traveled to the clock on the wall. One minute past midnight, one minute past witching hour. He waited for another knock, but there was only silence. He was about to grab the glasses again and return to May when the knocking began again, louder this time and with a shorter frequency, like a woodpecker drilling into a tree. Tommy left the glasses on the table and cautiously approached the door. He unlocked it partially, not removing the chain as he cracked it open. Who he saw on the other side stunned him to his core.
There in the pouring rain, head bare and wearing the dowdiest of clothing was none other than Grace.
"I'm in trouble Tommy," she whispered, looking him directly in the eyes.
Tommy unlatched the chain and opened the door.
"Grace… why are you here?"
Had she lost the baby? He looked her up and down then realized there was no point. She hadn't been showing at the races and not much time had passed since then.
"I'm in trouble," she repeated, stepping over the threshold.
"You can't be here. Grace, I'm married," he said as she stepped further into the hall. He knew it was a delayed response, that he shouldn't have let her in first.
"I have nowhere else to go," she answered, acting as if she hadn't heard him speak. Tommy closed the door.
"Where's your husband?
"He's dead ,Tommy." Her voice broke completely and she began to weep. Tommy stared at her.
"What do you mean he's dead?" For some reason, he was having trouble wrapping his brain around the death of the American banker.
"They killed him."
"Who?
"They killed him and I have nowhere else to go." Her shoulders shook, she bowed her head, and she put her head in her hands.
"Grace, who killed your husband?"
And why?
"It's all because of me. He didn't do a thing, but they were after me." He couldn't get a straight answer out of her and he realized she had just contradicted herself. Did she know or did she not know who had killed her husband? He walked over to a cabinet and poured her a glass of strong bourbon. She shook her head, but he pushed it into her hands, steered her to one of the divans, and made her sit and drink. When she looked as if she'd collected herself, he began to say,
"Grace, you can't…."
She looked up at him helplessly with her piercing blue eyes and he stopped speaking for a moment.
"I'm married, Grace," he said as gently as he could. "You can't stay here."
Fire flashed in Grace's eyes and she stiffened in the chair, her eyes accusatory.
"You're going to abandon me in my condition.."
"No, no," Tommy said, trying to placate her. "Nothing like that, all I'm saying is…"
"I'm in danger Tommy," she said, cutting him off. Someone is after me and I don't know who it is."
Tommy did not like the sound of that at all. Grace had a past with the government. She was a spy. God only knew who she'd crossed and what secrets she had exposed to warrant someone going after her American husband and scaring her to death.
"Grace."
"Please Tommy!" She clasped her hands together, her voice rising in what sounded like panic. "Think of the baby! Think of our baby!"
"Thomas?"
Tommy whipped his head around to see May standing on the staircase in her robe, white faced, eyes wide as if she had seen a ghost. Her hands were white as they gripped the railing. Grace rose to her feet, her mouth opened partially, but no sound came out. Tommy looked from her to May, then back to Grace, trying to think of a response. The three of them stood there, silent, as if they were waiting for something.
Thunder boomed, seemingly directly over their heads. Tommy raised his eyes up to the ceiling as the wind began to howl.
There's the storm.