#may charelton

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 73: Left In Silence

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

Ring! Ring!

Another phone call means more potential trouble. If that’s Michael again I’m going to ask Polly to start visiting his dreams!

“Verena?” Ada’s voice asks. 

Why would she be calling again? We just talked last month. Lord, is someone else dead?

“Hello, Ada. Is everything oké?” I ask uneasily.

“You should be here,” she begs, her voice raising. “I told Thomas I didn’t want any more of his business. Guess what? He just had me chat up Mosley’s bitch of a mistress! If they commented on coat prices one more time I swear I was so close to hurling my glass at them!” She lets out a scoff. “I actually preferred Nelson. So blunt and to the point.”

It takes a second for me to catch the name. “Ada, I- Wait. This was a meeting with Jack Nelson? Why would Thomas send you?”

There’s a long-term silence. Did I say something wrong? Is there something I don’t know?

“Because, well… Ruby is sick with consumption.”

The image of the smiling girl lying in a hospital bed sends me stricken with sudden familiar sadness. How did this happen? She looked perfectly healthy when I met her. 

“Dear Christ. Do they know the prognosis?”

“Nothing so far. But until she’s cured Thomas has some plan to fix things. Don’t ask.” Ada adds before I can speak. “I don’t know either.”

No, no. This is not the time for one of his plans. “He needs to be with Lizzie. She must be devastated.”

“She is.” Ada takes a breath. “Temporarily, I’m in charge. Things could use a woman’s touch. And I know a certain American who would be a prime candidate.”

I can’t help allowing a smirk to creep onto my face. “Oh, lovely. I’m sure Gina will agree.”

“Do not mention that bitch again,” Ada bites and tries asking again. “Verena, please. I know you and Tommy are on rocky grounds but-”

“No,” I answer firmly. “No. I really am sorry about Ruby. If I were Thomas I would be worried too. But I can’t risk another loss. Every time I come back, somebody dies. I’m trying to build a life for myself here. Call it selfish, but I will not abandon that all for Thomas.”

“So who’s the lucky one? The Polish man?” Ada asks expectantly. 

“He, um… He didn’t like hearing about my work history,” I utter darkly. “I don’t know if you lot get treated differently but when he heard about my connection to the Peaky Blinders he immediately wanted nothing to do with it… or me. So instead I’m helping Uncle Colon’s bookkeeping for my vader’s whiskey shipments throughout the Great Lakes.”

“You can’t replace work with love!” Ada implores. “Do you know who you sound like?”

Yes, and unlike him I am not going to drown myself in bought love and liquor. I help out with my familie’s kids, and if that’s all I’m supposed to receive in this world then I need to accept it. I still pray for those who hurt me, because somehow I know it was all supposed to happen. No, I do not think I am being punished for being a part of that gang. If anything, those years gave me more wisdom and religious proof than I ever had before. And now if I could choose I would go back and do it all again, even if Liam still couldn’t be saved. Somewhere in those years God hid a path for me, so here I am waiting for the next milestone.

“I appreciate the concern, Ada. But right now you need to help Lizzie. Let me handle my own worries instead of thinking you have to step in. Please tell them my prayers are with Ruby.”

We end our conversation and I’m left thinking about Lizzie. No, we never got along, but that familie has already seen so much unhappiness. What might be the reason that her daughter must be struck with such a terrible disease?

“Verena! Phone for you!” Charlotte calls down the hall. "Someone called Ada!"

“Um, kinda busy!” I yell back, my hands covered in flour.

“She says it’s important!” My nicht whines. What an adolescent.

“Fine!” I yell and storm towards the scowling teen, dusting my hands off before taking the phone. “Hello?”

“Ruby is dead.”

Another switch is flicked on. My anger melts into shock and I stand there gaping at the wall.

“Oh my God. Ada…" I hold a hand over my mouth to keep from breathing too loud. "How is Lizzie?”

“Not doing so well. I think Ruby’s passing broke part of her. Thomas was already breaking away.”

I swallow. “And Charlie?”

“He’s still stunned,” Ada whispers, although she sounds unsure. “From the outside he looks like the one that’s stayed kept together.”

“Thank you for keeping me informed. Is there any other news?”

“Well… There is some good news,” the Shelby zuster admits. “Finn finally took a wife. Her name is Mary.”

Finn, a married man. Hopefully he took my advice and found a suitable wife. If I ever have the guts to venture overseas again I might try to visit.

“It’s about time. I’m glad he’s doing well, and… Please send my condolences to Lizzie and the others. Gecondoleerd.”

By now I might not even recognize them. Each call seems to alter how I remember Ada’s voice. There’s no telling how much things have changed over there. I deeply wish I could go there; to offer proper sympathies instead of hiding here, so I could tell Thomas and Lizzie how sorry I am to hear Ruby is gone. But I have to put my foot down, even if I don’t always agree to it.

General POV

Damn him. Damn Tommy Shelby. 

The gangster curses himself over and over, his fingers digging into the desk’s wood as he leans over. As if fate hasn’t been cruel enough. Now his precious girl has been taken. 

“C’mon, Tommy,” Arthur tries to uplift him. “You need to move forward, eh?”

“Ruby’s gone,” the Peaky Blinder groans. “Lizzie is leaving, Charlie basically hates me, Michael is still planning to kill me, and you’re telling me to move forward? Forward to where, Arthur?! A prison? A madhouse? A grave?” 

He sinks into his chair and runs his hand over his head. The place where the wicked thing is growing inside him. Ironic. After all he’s fought through, all the threats, firefights, and duels, it’s fucking cancer that ends him. His own body, turned against him.

“A grave will be here for me soon enough,” Thomas murmurs to himself and looks up to Arthur. “All I can hope is that God has enough patience to hold an audience with my soul… and to grant me one last request.”

He reaches into the desk drawer for some paper and pulls out his glasses. Would it be worth the risk? Probably not. It probably won’t even be opened. Why would she? 

“What are you going to do, Tom?” Arthur asks from across the room as he reaches for a bottle.

Thomas takes a shaky breath and stares at the blank page. “What I should have done four years ago, Arthur. I need to write a letter. To a good friend.”

Verena’s POV

“How’s the West’s business been?” Uncle Colon asks. 

“Quickly processed, although I’m afraid transactions have changed to a slower amount. People still want to drink but they’re starting to run out of money.”

We continue along the docks and the wind starts to pick up. For the next week I’m home in Brooklyn, taking in inner-city business and discussing matters with vader and Uncle Colon while Nicolaas holds down the fort in Grand Rapids.

“Well, we can’t change that overnight,” Uncle Colon thinks out loud. “For now let’s continue with the fact that the world continues to spin on, eh?”

We round a corner towards the shop and- And come across a face I never thought I’d see in America.

“Ah, good day, Verena,” a familiar gangster greets, tipping his hat.

“Hello, Mr. Solomons,” I greet, bewildered. “What brings you to this side of the pond?”

“I’m meeting your previous boss up north. I am here now ‘cause I’ve just acquired half of Boston and would like to inspect my new empire, and thought of paying your uncle a visit.” He nods at Uncle Colon, who goes on ahead into our pub. “Oh, and I’m showing my new wife around as well.”

My face lights up. “Congratulations!”

The Jewish man gets a twinkle in his eye and looks down. “I see no ring on your finger. No lucky man’s won you over yet?” He waves it away. “Don’t bother. We both know who you’re thinking of.”

My face twists into an awkward frown and I look down. The envelope is still crammed in my dresser. Now in addition to dreading phone calls I have to keep alert for postage too.

“I received a letter from him last week. I haven’t opened it yet. I’m afraid it might stir up memories I’d rather keep buried.”

Mr. Solomons takes his time playing with his cane before he offers a response. “Well, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for an old Jewish gangster who wants to see his friend find forgiveness.” He pats my shoulder. “Do it for dear old Alfie, eh? Even if you don’t like what it says, you can still toss it, right?”

“Um, I mean- Well, I could- Uh-” 

I stutter to come up with an answer as he slips inside after Uncle Colon. He keeps a sly smile on his face, leaving my mind scrambled. Are he and Thomas in kahoots against me? Did Ada tell Thomas I won’t accept a call and to send a letter instead? I mean, I can’t keep the letter stored away forever. Even if I don’t dispose of it, one of my broers will find it and read it for me. 

I take a deep breath and start marching back home. Alright, that’s it. No more hiding. Alfie’s right. Even if I don’t like what I read I can always burn the letter and Thomas will never know. 

Back in my room I pull open the drawer and stare down at the crumpled envelope. My heart stings at the sight of Thomas’ familiar handwriting more than I’d care to admit. I slowly pick it up and slip out the letter. Here we go…

Verena-

I know if I call you then you will immediately hang up. I don’t even know if you will actually read this letter or immediately burn it. All I can pray for is that you read it before destroying it. 

I need to talk to you. At first I wanted to write out a full apology but words aren't enough. I understand if you wish to never see me again. Anyone I touch gets hurt. I never wanted to hurt you. But that does not mean I can forget you. I want to make amends. Please call me so I can hear from you one last time.

-Thomas

What are the chances? Thomas nearly read my mind. And yet… I don’t feel the burning rage I expected. His words don’t sound condescending or overly perceptive. They sound… sad. Thomas, you can fire me. But don’t deceive me by writing like you still care. He should just let me go, just as I am letting him go. Trying to let him go.

In the corner of the room the telephone waits, tempting me. No. No… No? Lord, I really am pathetic! One short letter sends me running back again! But, I mean, he did reach out to discuss forgiveness, like Alfie said. If this is the last time we communicate at least it will resolve any last concerns.

Time seems to slow as I reach for the receiver. Only a few dials and I’ll be talking to the man I swore to never crawl back to. But this isn’t crawling back. This is one final goodbye.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Please pick up-!

“Hello?” A gruff voice crackles over the line.

Thomas. My heart beats faster. He sounds older. I can tell he’s trying to hide the fact that his world is changing. He’s masking his voice and he doesn’t even know it’s me yet. Keep it together, Steenstra.

“Thomas, I got your letter. What’s wrong?”

A few seconds go by.

“Christ. It’s you,” he whispers, letting his facade slip for a moment before resuming his bland tone. “You assume something’s wrong?”

No beating around the bush this time! “You won’t talk to me unless there is something wrong. Everyone keeps telling me how your life’s gone to Hell in a handbasket. Now spill.”

It hurts me to sound this cruel and heartless, especially since he’s just lost his dochter. But I can’t slip up again. He was urgent enough to write to me so this call is all I’m allowing.

“Right,” he rambles, remembering what I’m calling about. “Um- It’s good to hear you-”

“Thomas Shelby.”

“Right. It’s- Um… I know it’s been a while since you were here-”

“Four years,” I recall bluntly. Get to the point, Thomas!

“Yes, well… I’d like to see you again.”

Is he serious? He has the audacity to tug me around like this? If he believes I’m going to literally crawl back to him after all this time he really has gone mad! He asked me for a phone call and that’s all I’m giving him!

“I’m busy over here-”

“It’s not work. I- Please, I’ll explain later.”

My grip on the phone tightens. “I’m not skipping over the pond again for you to yell at me and then push me away. If I recall right, it was you who fired me.”

His voice is starting to break. “Verena, please. I- I…”

“Get to the point. These calls aren’t cheap.” Not a complete lie but I’m getting tired of this!

“I’ll send for you.”

I roll my eyes and bark directly at the receiver. “If you need me so much, why don’t you come here yourself? Too busy with your empire? Or did you let Michael ruin that too?”

“Verena-” Thomas pleas.

“No, I’m serious. You’re the one who runs the show, the one to blame for how your life is. I will not be pulled into it anymore, nor will anyone else in my familie.”

Suddenly there’s a commotion on the other end. It sounds like Thomas is struggling. But with what? Or who?

“Verena, please, I am begging you!” He gasps. “Please forgive me!”

I’ve never heard him so desperate. One would think he’s at Death’s door. Or maybe he’s still mourning Ruby. Either way, this is a side of Thomas that is rarely let out. Ada was right. He does sound like a stranger to himself.

“Are you alright?” I ask in disbelief, my anger mixing with worry.

I hear him gasp for breath again. “I need to see you-!”

Thud.

“Thomas?” My voice grows louder. “Thomas? Thomas!”

Click.

The line goes dead, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. That was not normal. Thomas might be an oddball but he never abruptly ends conversations like that, at least not with me. Something is definitely wrong. Between my visions of Polly and now this… Pathetic or not, old habits are tempting me to not let go. I might have to put my fears aside.

I redial the phone and wait a few seconds. Lord, I hope she hears me out.

“Hello?”

“Lizzie. It’s Verena. I heard about your dochter.” I pause to think over my words carefully, surprised she hasn’t hung up already. “I am so, so sorry. Words cannot amount to the right way to express sympathies for the loss of a child. I’ve been praying for Ruby. For all of you.”

“At least you’ve turned to proper ways of hope,” Lizzie snaps, her voice cracking. “All Tommy did was wander around looking for fucking Gypsy curses.”

He really has turned desperate. But there’s something he’s not telling me, and I’m not waiting around for an answer.

“Lizzie, I’m thinking of catching the next boat to England. I need to know that you are fine with me coming over. I know you don’t like me being around but-”

“You can come,” she scoffs. “I don’t fucking care anymore. I left him.”

My jaw drops. “You…?”

“I want a normal life. Not the one he’s given me. If I have to attend another fucking social gathering I’m going to throw up.” She takes an uneven breath. “He’s not the same man anymore. He’s not been well. Doesn’t sleep. I’ve had to wake him up from spasms. All he claims is that after this deal with Boston everything will be over. Fucking lies.” She lets out a muffled scream. “He won’t fucking stop! This life- It took my Ruby! I’m done with it. All this madness- This fucking Gypsy stuff! You can keep it.”

Clang!

She slams the phone down and I’m left with more silence. Now Lizzie has fallen too. In spite of how proud she was to have won Thomas, she lost part of her life. All the glamour and sex was all for a loveless marriage that took her dochter. Never did I think she would have the nerve to leave all that she fought for, but death can make us reevaluate things.

Should I tell anyone about the call from Thomas? Lord, I dare not even think of mentioning it to moeder or vader. I could tell Uncle Colon, but he'll probably side with my parents and want to hide me away from any more affiliation with Thomas. If this is a mission I will choose, I will have to do it alone. Should I even gamble to risk it?

I step over to my bedroom window and peer out at the open night sky. Is Thomas looking up at these stars right now too? Instead of kindling the anger from the past all I can think of is how isolated he must feel. 

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[setbw4u]

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[jdelarroz]

Changing Comic Culture One Step At A Time

I’m a fan of the classic pulps, having studied what made our American culture so great in the first half of the 20th century, which then declined as the entertainment industry became weaponized as a political tool. Normal people, consequently, exited culture, which led to its slow spiral which started in the 60s, but reached its apex in poor quality in the 90s-2000s, where the culture collapsed and never recovered.

Books went from selling millions to selling thousands. People stopped seeing movies. People stopped reading comics and they became a niche market. You know the drill if you’ve read along.

Both the content and the business models have been failures from the mainstream industry, and it’s why I’ve spent time on my last several projects doing something different.

My work on Dynamite Thor was a study of a golden age character, redoing a hero as an actual hero, adding humor to comics, making comics fun again. It highlighted that 1950s Americana which we lost as a culture.  It may have seemed an esoteric concept to pursue, but it was a great work and test as a writer to learn to revitalize.

Another area where I’ve found needing revitalization is short comics. I started and continue to release them on my Patreon as I get them done after reading wonderful works by Steve Ditko in a Masters of Suspense compilation. I reviewed the book here:

Back when comics were a thriving industry, Marvel, Charelton Comics, EC, and others had magazines every month dedicated to shorts. They’d make punchy, witty, concepts and really exercise the mind creatively by doing different things — Jack Kirby even made romance comics into something super popular.

All of these had short concepts, packing a ton of story into 5 or 10 pages. Each story had something wildly different than the next. They made for incredibly refreshing reads.

This is what inspired me to do shorts on my patreon, which I’ve been coming out with and producing monthly in conjunction with my regular comics.

With the quarantine, I figure it’s best to get those out to a bigger and wider audience, so I compiled what I have to date into Spectacular Comics #1. This book has a little of everything — cute wholesome stories, horror, samurai, I wanted to use my comic storytelling to try something different each time, and with short comics it gives me more luxury to follow the creative instinct.

It’s already at #3 on Amazon and has three 5-star reviews. This is a great comic to bring back classic-style culture and you’ll really enjoy it. The print edition is “processing” right now so I’m just waiting on it to go live, but you can get Spectacular Comics and make comics great again on kindle for only $3.99.

Read today, and see why short comics are so fun!

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[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 67: A Chosen Target

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

In the next few days I ease my mind by getting some things squared away. Abel and Franz’s contracts are cleared so now it’s a matter of shipping out their textile products. I also wish to inform Thomas about Zipporah’s case but each meeting is called short before I can. So I decide to drive to Arrow House after this luncheon.

Right now Polly and Ada made me take a mandatory break and join them for an early bite to eat. It seems a bit out of place now that most people don’t have much loose change to spend. I’m taking this as an occasion to distribute some of my own good fortune to the bar we’re meeting in. Something else I notice is Ada’s growing belly.

“So Verena, how was Germany?” Polly asks as she sips her tea.

I twirl a spoon in my hand. “The country was a nice change of scenery. I met friends. Some old, some new.”

This gets Ada’s attention. “Oh?”

“Zipporah, a girl I met back home a few years ago, has to move just because her family’s Jewish. I’m going to ask Thomas if there’s something we can do to send aid. Not just to her but to other traveling Jews.”

This information leads the two Shelby women to exchange worried glances. For good reason, too. Their Romani ties won’t go unnoticed by those bastards either.

“That sounds like a perfect idea,” Polly compliments and takes a bite of her meal.

“Did you meet anyone else?” Ada questions, changing the topic.

“One comes to mind. A sailor. His name is Nathaniel Winston. He claims to have met my uncle before.”

There it is. The wheels are spinning in her head again, just like Thomas. Only instead of business ploys she thinks of more personal matters.

“So… This Nathaniel Winston… Is he single?”

Clamp.

I set the spoon down and grab my coat, placing my end of the bill on the table. No. I am not discussing this again. Meanwhile poor Polly looks confused at my sudden movement.

“I knew it,” I mutter, not bothering to face Ada as I throw on my coat. “I knew you’d ask.”

She scoffs. “I’m just saying-”

“God, Ada!” I blurt, throwing my arms up. “Must every man I meet be a love interest?”

Her eyes flash. “You are too stubborn to move on!”

“We have more important things to worry about!” I bark, earning some odd looks from the people seated around us.

Polly keeps calm and folds her hands together. “You still love Tommy.”

Something in me bursts. “Yes! I still love that handsome bastard and for whatever God-damn reason I cannot move on! So let’s drop it, shall we?”

I grip my purse and storm to the door. First moeder, then Uncle Colon, now this? Is there anywhere I can go without being judged?

“Verena,” Polly calls softly.

I cringe with guilt and contained rage, turning to face the older woman. “I’m sorry, Polly. I’ll see you later. Komm, Dílis.”

The canine jumps up and trots behind me. I’m sure Ada’s watching with disapproval. No, I cannot replace human companionship with a pet. But for now that’s all I have!

Keep walking. Keep walking. Get in the car. Start driving. I put my Bentley in drive and all but floor it out of Birmingham, heading straight to Arrow House. Maybe there my personal life won’t be poked and prodded.

By the time I get to Arrow House it’s mid afternoon. Today’s weather has stayed clear and still, adding assistance to my traveling. I park off to the side and march up the front steps, straight to the door. After a few moments of knocking the door opens and Frances lets me inside.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced but I have some matters to discuss with Mr. Shelby.”

“He is in his study,” the housekeeper informs me after giving Dílis a doubtful look . “Please wait here.”

She leaves me in the parlor and in no less than a minute later Charlie scampers down the stairs. He notices us and his jaw drops.

“You got a dog?” Charlie marvels and holds his hand out for the pup to sniff.

“His name is Dílis. Go on, you can pet him.”

The Shelby boy doesn’t hesitate and starts giggling when Dílis starts licking his face. 

“Peng.” The dog flops down and understands to play dead, causing Charlie to clap appraisingly. “Braver hund.”

Ruff! His high-pitched puppy bark echoes throughout the house.

“Ruhig, Dílis.” He stops barking but still whines anxiously. This past week’s lessons have been adding up.

“Verena?”

Thomas’ voice draws me to the hallway where he’s waiting. “Dílis, platz. Zit. ” The dog stops and plops down on the floor. “Can you watch him, Charlie? I need to speak to your dad.”

Charlie nods eagerly and I follow Thomas into the library. He doesn’t seem fazed by leaving his son with Dílis. In fact he seems to still be calm and collected as he’s been all week. I’d almost say he looks tired. As I take a seat across from him I keep expecting Lizzie to slink out. I imagine she still wonders why I’m useful. I'd say it’s because I offer overseas connections and a peace of mind. But all because I simply try to hold Thomas’ hand I’m a deceitful witch to her.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Thomas asks as he sits at his desk. "Was it just to please Charlie with your new canine associate?”

“Not entirely,” I remark. “I’ve been meaning to request resources to distribute to immigrants.”

Thomas shows surprise. “Immigrants?”

“Ask any stationed officer or transport official. Any cab driver or port sailor,” I reply sternly. “There are more and more immigrants leaving Europe to avoid the Nazis. One of my friends is leaving for Boston just because her family is Jewish. I am requesting to send supplies to these travelers.”

Just like Polly and Ada, his face grows dark at the mention of the monstrous group. Instead of answering he reaches into his desk and pulls out a clean sheet of paper.

“Which setup locations are you suggesting?” He asks, pen at the ready.

“Oh! Um, I thought of London, obviously, and maybe some other ports heading out of Europe. Maybe some on the East Coast for incoming travelers.”

Thomas jots down some notes and slips the paper next to the phone. “It will be done. I’ll make the call later.”

Under his breath I hear him mutter something like “Mosley can go to Hell” but I don’t press further. Thomas still looks tired. No wonder he’s postponing the call. He probably needs to rest. Maybe… Oh, what the Hell. Why not?

“Would you like me to watch Charlie for the afternoon?”

Thomas, half hunched over on his desk, looks up with worn eyes. “You’d do that?”

I push aside my grudge for him and smile. “Of course. It’ll be just like old times. And you look exhausted.”

The man sighs and calls for his son. Charlie’s footsteps get closer and both him and Dílis walk in. The boy has an uneasy grimace as if he’s about to be scolded.

“Hey, Charlie. You’re going to spend the day with Veena, alright?”

Thomas’ son looks between me and his vader. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, Charlie,” Thomas assures. “You’re not in trouble.”

“Your dad needs to take a nap,” I explain and rub Thomas’ shoulder.

“Daddy’s tired?”

“Yes. So you have to deal with- me!”

I kneel down and start tickling the boy’s sides, causing him to stiffen and let out spasms of giggling. Dílis gets agitated too and starts barking.

“Ah! St-Stop!” Charlie titters and I raise him up.

“There’s that smile.” I poke his cheek. “Whaddya say to a walk in the woods?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never gone past the stream.”

“Then let’s go exploring!” I encourage and start leading him out.

“Not too far,” Thomas warns. “It's still dangerous to let you two go without protection.”

“Fine. We’ll be careful. We’ve got Dílis. Just make sure to at least try to sleep,” I implore and usher Charlie into the hallway.

Dílis runs ahead and Charlie hurries upstairs to grab a jacket. I set down my purse and request an outdoors jacket of my own. Ten minutes later we’re bundled up and marching through the thick grass in the pasture. Dílis wanders in front but keeps close by. Charlie picks out a sturdy walking stick and keeps walking on and off the stone walls.

“This is it,” he points out when we get to a frozen stream. I dunno what’s past it.”

“It’s still on the property so we can keep going. How about we check out those trees?” I point to where the stream leads to a thicket of ash trees in the distance.

“Okay.”

We jump over the short wall and walk alongside the water. Dílis disappointedly tries lapping the ice and has to keep walking. Charlie helps distract him by finding a small stick for them to play fetch with. When we reach the thicket we all take a seat on some boulders next to the stream.

“This is pretty,” Charlie observes, looking out at the clearing behind us.

“Yes it is,” I agree. “God has provided a beautiful early winter. I’m sure this place is lovely in the spring.”

“Veena… Is daddy okay?”

That catches me off guard. What kind of question is that? Has Thomas really been so distant as to allow his son to be concerned for him? Charlie is still so young to be thinking this way.

I put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Your vader loves you very much, Charlie. He’s just been really busy.”

He looks down and runs his fingers over the coarse rock. “Are you going to leave again?”

He is growing up. And I can’t let him see how sad it makes me. “Someday.” Time to change things up. “Have you ever seen a tulip?”

Charlie perks up with interest. “No. What’s that?”

“It’s a flower. A popular flower in the Netherlands. Next spring I’ll bring some bulbs for you to plant.”

“My classmate David is Dutch,” Charlie reports. “I told him I’m part Irish.”

“And a Gypsy, don’t forget.” I point a finger at him. “I see you’ve begun to observe more. Just like your vader.”

Charlie smiles proudly but something makes him hesitate again. “When will you leave?”

I frown. “Why all this talk of me leaving, Charlie?”

He looks down again. “Daddy’s happier when you’re here.”

Happier. There have been few times in the past years when I have seen Thomas look anything remotely close to happy. How can Charlie figure out how me being around makes him happy? I know that in the past I felt glad to be wanted by Thomas but now there is no reason for him to want me around.

“Your vader is a busy man. He needs help to get things done and that’s when I come to visit.”

Charlie nods but still doesn’t fully agree. He must live a very cold domestic life if my small visits offer highlighted excitement. I guess Lizzie can’t do everything.

Arf! 

“Dílis, what is it?”

The canine’s ears perk up and he stands alert, facing the edge of the thick tree line.

Grrr. His high-pitched yip turns into a low snarl. Something’s here. Maybe a deer or- Someone. Two men. Two men step out and quietly approach. Both are wearing brown jackets and caps. They’re trespassing. I’m unarmed! Do they know I’ve spotted them yet? They’re not carrying visible guns but I’m not waiting around to find out.

I grab Charlie and sink behind the boulder. “Gib Laut!”

Rr-raw-raw-ruh! Dílis follows orders and speaks a fierce, gruff bark. Maybe that will caution them to keep away.

“What’s wrong with Dílis?” Charlie asks, trying to squirm away.

“Charlie. Listen to me very carefully.” I hold his face still so he can pay attention. “You need to go behind the trees and run home. Find your vader. Tell him to come here. Run. Run as fast as you can and don’t stop until you find him. Can you do that?”

Charlie spots something behind me and his eyes widen. “Who is that?”

“Charlie, go! Run- Ah!”

Someone grips my hair and yanks me onto my back. Charlie jumps away and all I can see are the treetops above me. My pulse jumps and adrenaline rushes through as one of the men tightly grabs my arm and pulls out a hunting knife.

“Maybe Shelby will finally come to his senses when we scruff up another one of their employees- A woman. Get the message across that Thomas Shelby’s time in the world is running low.”

I hear the other one let out a small groan. “This feels wrong.”

The clutch on my arm tightens. “She’s still with the Peaky Blinders.”

“Dílis!” I gasp. “Fass! Attack!”

The canine lets out a deep growl and I feel the man behind me jump back, pulling me with him. The other one lets out a cry and sounds to be running away.

“Mangy mutt!”

“Get this fucking beast off me!” 

I tug away and crawl to a nearby tree, trying to get a grip on the situation. One man is running scared but the other one with the knife is still trying to escape Dílis’ attack.

“Leave her alone!”

My stomach drops. Charlie is still here. He runs over and pitches a rock at brute’s head. It doesn’t do much except make him drop the knife.

“Ch-Charlie- Run!” I order. “Dílis! Lauf!”

The dog jumps back and takes off after Charlie towards the house. Go! Go! He needs to protect Charlie. Now if I can just grab the knife-!

“Damn mutt ripped a hole in my leg!” The man roars and punches me square in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. “Time to finish the job.”

“Let go of me, you bastard!” I wheeze.

“Wo-hoa!” The man taunts, smiling like a madman. “Listen to that accent! She’s American!”

Ah!

He sticks the blade in my side and my scream rings out through the forest, sending birds flying. Warm blood spills down me and soaks my brown coat. In a fit of adrenaline I use my remaining strength to punch the bloke right in the crotch, sending him doubling over. 

Rr-raw-raw-ruh!

The man gasps and tries crawling away from the sound of Dílis’ bark. “It’s back!”

From the frozen ground I look up and see Charlie run over, and behind him is Thomas running at a full sprint. He sees the man on the ground and pulls out his gun.

“Charlie!” I heave and pull him out of the way. “Duck your head. Close your eyes-!”

Bam!

The bullet flies straight into the man's head, forming a perfect hole in his forehead. Charlie recognizes the loud noise and clings tighter.

“Don’t look. Keep your head tucked in. It’s alright.” With a blurring vision I see Dílis hovering over me and sense him prodding my face with his nose. “Braver hund. Good dog, Dílis.”

“Charles!” Thomas’ voice gets closer and I feel his wide frame kneel down next to us. “Verena- Are you hurt?”

“Take Charlie-” I wince and gently push Charlie away so he doesn’t get blood on him. “There’s another one…”

Thomas immediately sees the red and inspects the source. “You’re cut.”

“‘S fine… He went that way…” I try to point but my hand is starting to shake. So tired…

“Verena! Stay with me!” Thomas orders and begins grabbing me up to carry me.

It’s not a fatal wound but it’s not a light scratch either. Hm. How could one stab make someone so tired? My mind weaves in and out of consciousness, flashing images of being taken to a bed and getting stitched up by a blank face in a mask. So tired…

“You’re awake!” Charlie’s voice cheers.

I am? Why hadn’t I been before? My eyes open slowly and I take in my surroundings. We’re back at Arrow House in a spare bedroom. There’s a fire burning. Dílis is perched next to one side of the bed while Charlie is on the other. There’s light seeping in from the drapes. How much time has passed?

“You slept all day. Daddy brought you here and had a doctor fix you last night.”

Fix me. I reach down and pull back the dense cotton covers, revealing a large amount of gauze wrapped around me. So it was not a hallucination.

“You were very fearless yesterday, Charlie,” I praise and reach for his hand. “But please promise me that next time you will run when I tell you.”

His brown eyes drop and he looks disappointed. “I was just trying to be brave.”

I stroke a piece of hair away from his face.  “I know, I know. You’re just like your vader. But being brave doesn’t mean you need to fight. Courage stems in many forms.” I pat his cheek. “Don’t grow up too fast, Charlie.”

Arf! Dílis puts his two front paws on the bed and licks my face.

“Yes, yes! You were very brave too, Dílis. Braver hund.”

A noise catches my attention and I look over at the door. Thomas is here. From the look on his face I can tell he’s weary of seeing this scene again. Someone being injured and lying helpless in a bed. He quietly walks in and puts a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Is the party in here, eh?”

I offer his son one last grateful smile. “Just saying goodnight.”

The young Shelby’s face tenses for a second. “Goed- Goedenacht, Verena.”

My eyes light up at his use of Dutch. “Goedenacht, Charlie.”

Thomas lifts him off the bed and sends him off. When Charlie is gone he kneels down and faces me with soft eyes.

“I can’t thank you enough-”

“Stop, Thomas. I did what anyone would do. It’s your son who should be praised. He stood up for me. He has your spirit.”

“You still saved him,” Thomas implies.

“He saved me.” I give a small chuckle. “Of all the times to leave my gun in my purse.” Thomas doesn’t laugh along so I look him up and down. “How are you feeling?”

His eyebrows rise and he cracks a small grin. “Me? You just got stabbed. You’re lucky your lung wasn’t punctured.”

I show him an exaggerated look of my own. “When you walked in here you look like you'd just seen a ghost.” 

Ghost is a different word to him. It makes him hesitate. I don’t want him overthinking again so I ask the big question.

“Who the Hell were they?”

“Billy Boys. They disobeyed our truce. They’re both dead now, and I’m going to have a word with Jimmy fucking McCavern.” Thomas’ darkened face looks up. “I am so sorry.”

People can probably count on their hand how many times Thomas Shelby has apologized. I told him once before that he owes me a multitude of apologies. This one, however, is not engraved with his fault. Anyone can attack me at any time. 

“I should have known to expect this,” I admit softly.

He runs a hand over his forehead. “Yeah but you don’t deserve this, love.”

“There’s nothing you can do to change it. I agreed to a contract to be a Shelby employee, and in doing so I chose to paint a target on my forehead. What’s important is that Charlie is alright.”

Thomas sighs again and glances at an old Bible placed on the side table. “Does the Lord almighty have an answer for this?”

“God is not afraid of your questions,” I murmur, my eyes growing heavy again. “If you would like to know something you need only ask Him yourself.”

Thomas stands up and I feel his calloused hand on mine. “You’re tired. Get lots of rest, love.” Dílis jumps up and curls up near my feet. Before I drift off I hear Thomas say one final praise. “Braver hund.”

General POV

How could he have let this happen? How did this happen? This truce is getting worse by the week. The sooner McCavern and Mosley are dead the better. If they think they are free to rough up his men, his employees, of all people Verena, they are damn wrong.

Verena’s dog lets out a small whine before Thomas leaves the room. He takes one last glance at her, cursing himself for ever offering her a contract. Colon was right. He did make Verena think she owed him and now she’s addicted to this lifestyle, same as he is. He really is a bastard for making her his employee, and now it's turned her into a target. As it pains him to think of her leaving, the idea of Verena's dismissal begins to form in his head.

Seeing red drip from her clothes is a sight Thomas wants to forget entirely. The light threatened to leave her eyes last night. He shutters at the thought as he closes the door.

The tired gangster treads down the hall to Charlie’s room, where he finds his son hunched over on the bed.

“‘Ello, Charlie. Ready to sleep, eh? You’ve had a long day.”

“God helped us.”

Thomas’ thoughts freeze. “What did you say?”

“God helped us stop the bad guys yesterday,” the child babbles and crawls into the sheets.

The comment makes Thomas chuckle. “Verena’s told you about God, eh?”

“Yeah. Like how Uncle Arthur talks of Him. Verena’s told me about how mummy and Uncle John are with Him now too.”

Right there Thomas sees his son growing up. Maybe he never did have a suitable mother after Grace died, but he’s been taught in faith to remember her. It makes Thomas wonder. Is it possible to teach faith? Or are we born with an inner sense to it? Either way, there are spirits that guided them in these recent hours.

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Masterlist

Summary: (Begins at season 1) A young American woman accidently gets lost and left behind during her family trip in England. Now she's left alone in the sketchy town of Birmingham. What will happen when she meets a family rumored to be full of notorious and dangerous gangsters? Warnings: swearing, inappropriate language, guns, suggested sexual content, spoilers

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[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 70: Loss

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

Sleep avoids me all night. Each time I try to close my eyes I keep hearing jumbled words warning me of upcoming conflicts. ‘Losing one of your own siblings.’ God, did she have to say that? Not only am I petrified of losing anyone but it happens to be that my broer is involved with today’s fight. ‘Take a look at the future.’ Some future, Michael. Everything and everyone that drew me to become a part of this is threatening to be cast out. Seeing Thomas’ panicking eyes still haunts me.

By 5 a.m. I roll out of bed and follow Dílis to the kitchen. From the window I see that the rain is gone and has left the streets thick with mud. 

Arf! The pup lets out a yip and waits next to his food bowl.

“Coming, coming,” I fuss and go for his kibble. “You’re not the only one who’s impatient.”

Impatient, indeed. For the next several hours I continue to keep calling Polly, Ada, anyone who might tell me what’s going on. Eventually the operator gets tired of me and directs the call straight to Thomas.

“Hello?”

“Thomas. You need to tell me what’s going on now,” I speak in a low tone. “Normally I wouldn’t be so restless but this involves Liam.”

“You’re right,” Thomas admits and takes a breath. “Today at 2 we’re meeting up at Charlie’s yard to discuss the plan. You can be there if you wish but nothing further after that. Liam will be there too.”

“That’s all I need to know,” I answer gratefully. “Tot ziens.”

Only a few more hours.

I round up Dílis and slip into the car at 1:30. I don’t care if I’m early. By the time I get to the yard I see Arthur, Johnny Doggs, and Uncle Charlie watching someone aim at a target. Liam stands nearby, holding a rifle and wearing his own flat cap.

“Komm, Dílis.” We both walk through the muddy grass over to him. “What is the plan?”

Liam doesn’t seem surprised to see me here. “Mosley’s speaking at a rally tonight. The plan is to let your boss’ friend Barley shoot the bastard.” He points to the man in front. “That’s him there. He’s a great shot.”

A shooting. At a rally. “The Billy Boys will be there, then. Will we have enough men?”

Liam smirks and jerks his head to someone behind me. “That’s why we’ve called in some support.”

Dílis starts barking and I’m shocked to see a familiar bearded face. “Mr. Solomons?”

“Fresh from the grave,” the Jewish gangster announces and spreads his arms. He frowns, looking me up and down. “You’re still following Tommy Shelby around? I'd thought a smart girl like you would have left by now.”

Liam and I exchange looks before I answer. “I am now. Sometimes I feel tethered to this lifestyle. Addicted to it, you might say.”

Mr. Solomons strokes his beard. “Curious. There are many addictions surrounding this lifestyle. Snow, alcohol, violence. And amidst all this… You are addicted to Tommy Shelby.”

Liam takes the time to clear his throat and inch away from the conversation. There’s no other way to phrase it, actually. This is an addiction. 

“Maybe,” I confess. “But I can overcome my addiction if it means avoiding Mosley’s crowd.”

The gangster nods in understanding just as Thomas’ car pulls up and the man himself steps out to watch Barley. On a bright side, Thomas doesn’t appear to have let Michael’s words get to him. His eyes are confident and he walks with a notable pep in his step when he sees Barley’s accomplished shots.

“All right then, boys! Let’s head out!” He waves everyone over and looks at me. “Verena, you go back to Ada’s. You can listen on the radio.”

All the men file into their cars. Liam starts to follow them and my heart quickens.

“Liam? You’re going with them?”

He looks as if I just asked which way was left or right. “‘Course I am, zus.”

Liam starts to climb into the car and I grab his sleeve. “No- Wait. Liam, no. Please…”

“Verena, it’s a speech. All I have to do is stand guard and pretend like I’m on their side.”

My head shakes violently and I keep a firm grip on him. “You were never supposed to be a part of this.”

His eyes narrow and he starts getting agitated. “I can’t just watch this happen and do nothing! Maybe you can make change through fancy words but my way is through action.”

“Liam…” I plead, my voice starting to fail. “Please.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tonight, zus,” Liam grins, patting me on the shoulder just as the door shuts and the line of cars begins driving away, leaving me in the mud.

No. It’s all wrong. So terribly wrong.

Ruff! Dílis looks between the cars and me, trying to decide what's the matter.

“More waiting, I guess,” I sigh and trudge back to my car. “Only this time there is far more at stake.”

I get in the driver’s seat and lean my head against the steering wheel. Lord, with all I can ask I pray that you keep Liam safe. He was never meant to be here. I was never meant to be here. And now because of my constant surrender to my addiction he decided to join me. Now he has chosen to put himself in danger. 

Throughout the drive to Ada’s I want to believe in Thomas and think that tonight will go as planned. Maybe I would if Liam wasn’t involved. But all I can think of now is if things might go wrong.

“There you are!” Ada greets from the door when I pull up. “The broadcast is about to start. I prepared in advance and got rubbish bins for us to throw up in when Mosley starts speaking.”

Dílis wanders into the parlor and as I follow him I pass by a mirror in the hallway. I’m so pale. It’s the same look Thomas wore when he came to visit me after the stabbing. It’s paired with a feeling of deep fear, one that might never be erased until I see Liam again.

“Verena? Verena, you’re shaking,” Ada worries and helps me sit down. “Here, have some tea.”

Some static cheering comes from the radio and the announcer’s voice booms: “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Oswald Mosley.”

More applause is picked up from the crowd. I control my rage by twirling the tea spoon in my fingers. Kill him. Kill him.

Mosley clears his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen of Birmingham…”

The beginning of the speech is more repeating of what he claimed at Lizzie’s birthday party. Karl keeps watching the radio with distrust, looking back at his moeder’s skeptical frown.

“Our enemies deal in bricks and stones and bottles. We deal in reasoned principle argument and fact.”

Their ‘enemies’ are the very people that support the economy. My economy. The capitalist economy. This fairytale he’s promising will not be a solution. It will be a discriminatory blow to the working class, to Jews, to anyone who opposes them. And if fascism spreads it will lead to the downfall of vader’s business. Uncle Colon’s trade ring. Thomas’ shipping company. 

Mosley goes on to talk more about Churchill and the threats to democracy. “Not all attending tonight will be convinced of our cause.”

“Guilty as charged,” I utter darkly, gripping the spoon as we wait for the shot. 

“Perish Judah! Perish Judah!” The crowd chants as the speech goes on.

Come on, Thomas. Kill him. Do it. Do it… My body tenses and my eyes almost burn a hole through the radio by how intense I’m watching it, still waiting for the shot.

No gunshot. Where’s the gunshot? Why is the bastard still talking?!

“The barriers of class will be abolished, and a greater Britain will be born of the National Socialists and fascist creed.”

More cheering fades in, followed by distant shouts. Suddenly the noise is cut off and the broadcast ends. Wait- Does that mean-? Did Barley-? What the Hell happened?

“Did… Did we win?” I ask openly, looking over at Ada.

The Shelby zuster shakes her head blankly. “I don’t know.”

So we wait. Wait in thick, gruesome silence for a phone call. For any news. Karl soon gets antsy and goes off to his room. I look out the window nearly twenty times before I finally see a car pull up. Through the pouring rain I see Thomas walk up to the house. His face is hidden by his cap so it’s unclear what form of report he has for us.

I jump up and nearly trip on the rug trying to rush to the door. Thomas steps in, shaking the rain off and hesitating to lift his head. When I see his eyes they look so lost and empty that he almost looks like someone else.

“Thomas-? Jesus, you look terrible.” He looks at me as if I’m a vase about to crack. “Something went wrong.”

Thomas swallows and leans against the cabinet, staring at himself through the mirror, refusing to deny my statement. “I had him. I could have done it. Could have shot him.”

I take a shaky breath and step closer. “You could have. But we both know that would only make things worse. You would be dead too.”

“I bloody know that!” He tries to shout but it comes out as a self-loathing cry. “And now Aberama... He’s dead. Gone. They knew…”

Dead. The word echoes through my mind and my previous feeling of sorrow returns.

“Where’s Liam?”

“It doesn't make sense,” Thomas keeps rambling. “No fucking sense…”

“Thomas,” I demand louder, starting to feel desperate. “Where is my broer?”

The gangster stops muttering to himself and turns to me with vulnerable eyes. A look that I am cursed to know all too well.

“Your brother… Liam, he… He tried to stop McCavern’s men from getting to Arthur. They stabbed him.” My stomach tightens. “He… He didn’t make it.”

My face freezes and my knees weaken, sending me collapsing against the cabinet. “Jesus Christ…”

“We snuck his body to Charlie’s yard, so he can have a proper service.” Thomas tries to reach for me. “Verena-”

“Don’t touch me!” I weep and swat him away, angry tears already streaming down my cheeks. “Just- Just leave me! Go!”

Dílis starts to whine and nudge my shaking hand.

“Verena-” Thomas begs.

“Get the fuck away from me!” My shriek rings throughout the house and all I can do is back away, stumbling against the door. “Stay the fuck away, Thomas!”

“Verena, wait!” Ada pleads and steps between us. “You are in no condition to drive. I’ll take you back. This way, Dílis.” Thomas tries to speak but she cuts him off. “Zip it, Tommy!”

In an empty and spiraling burst of emotions I am guided by Ada to my car. The only thing anchoring me to reality is her arm around my shoulder. I don’t even notice when we start driving. In the blink of an eye all that was once beautiful and hopeful now looks like the descending steps to endless torture.

Liam was stabbed. Stabbed. Liam is dead. My broer is dead. My innocent broer is dead. Of all the pain I have been devoted, all the pain I have persevered, this is by far the one that injures the most. This is not a pain I’ve allowed to myself. It is a pain that I cannot cure through changing myself. It is a pain of deep mourning, guilt, and regret. Is this how Thomas felt when John was killed?

‘I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tonight, zus.’ That is what he promised me, just as Thomas promised that he would be safe. No, I know Thomas could not keep Liam from wanting to face danger. But he could have tried harder.

“Verena?” Ada’s voice reaches my cloudy thoughts. “We’re here.”

She helps me out of the car and walks Dílis and I inside. I look down and see Liam’s flannel jacket lying on the chair, left without an owner. Just the memory of Thomas’ words sends chills down my spine. His body? That doesn’t even sound right.

“It’s all my fault,” I gulp and stagger to the kitchen. “I brought this cursed gang onto my familie. If I hadn’t kept coming back, Liam wouldn't have gotten involved. If I hadn’t gone in too deep… Liam would still be alive.”

“Verena.” Ada corners me against the counter and squeezes my hand. “Liam chose to do this. It’s not your fault-”

“Yes it is.”

She tries to argue but gives up. “Usually the one being blamed is Thomas-”

“Do not mention that bastard’s name!” I seethe, clenching my fists. “I warned him not to let Liam get too involved but he never listens. He took my heart and now my broer is lost too. I’m just so sick of- HIM!”

I grip a stray knife and fling it across the room at Thomas’ portrait on the wall. I grab another and sprint through the parlor, proceeding to stab his damn blank face over and over and over. Every time the blade cuts through the canvas is another stab to my heart. Why did I let myself get too deep? Everyone told me it was dangerous and now my foolishness took my broer from me!

I take one final jab at the portrait, leaving an open gash across the subject’s face. Damn you, Thomas, and your stain on my life.

Ada sees I’ve stopped. “Go ahead. He’s got too many bloody portraits of himself anyway.” I hear her step closer. “I’ll stay here with you tonight. You can’t be alone right now.”

My eyes close and the knife slips from my grasp, cluttering to the floor. I stand there shaking, my feet glued to the ground. It’s like someone sucked out all the air from my lungs and my body has gone numb.

How did I let it come to this? How did I go wrong?

All night I pray for a dream. A dream I can wake up from and realize that Liam really isn’t gone. But each time I open my eyes and search the house he is never here. Never returned. Dílis can sense I’m troubled and keeps trailing at my heels. Eventually I don’t even bother trying to sleep. I just keep pacing the hall, back and forth, waiting for the nightmare I’m living to end. How am I going to tell moeder?

The weather also notices my grieving state and clouds the sky, not allowing any form of sunshine or cleansing rain. Only a despair-ridden overcast.

“You still love him,” Ada comments from behind when I begin staring at the ruined picture.

“Prove it,” I spit, pondering whether or not to hurl the art piece into the fire.

Ada sighs in defeat, standing up from the sofa. “Fine, you win. I guess I’ll go back and fetch Tommy some gin so he can drink himself away.”

“He likes whiskey. Irish,” I grumble.

She hums. “Then I’ll go get some tobacco-”

“We both know he only uses cigarettes.”

“Fine,” the Shelby zuster huffs. “Are you up for some jazz records?”

I stiffly shake my head. “There aren’t any. Playing jazz risks Thomas throwing the turntable across the room. He doesn’t like unnecessary noise-” Wait a damn second. I turn to look at her. “Was that a test?”

Ada toasts me with her morning tea. “Bingo. In a few short minutes you’ve narrowed down Tommy’s choices of whiskey, cigarettes, and music. A woman who’s not in love with him wouldn’t know him that well.”

Well, yes. I could have pointed those out long ago. Why bring it up now? Ada already knew back then that I was a prime candidate for him. Or is she doing this to ease my loathing for him?

Instead of directly calling moeder I dial Conor and inform him of what happened. He catches on to my lingering guilt and tries to tell me it’s not my fault. I still don’t believe it. After a few short responses we arrange for him and my other broers to pick me up. As the oldest, he takes the responsibility of telling moeder and vader about Liam. 

“We’ll be there as quick as possible, zus,” Conor promises. “Stay with someone until we get there.”

“I could have stopped him,” I croak. “Gecondoleerd. I am so sorry…”

“Gecondoleerd, Verena,” Conor says soothingly. “You know how Liam was. None of us could stop him from running into a fight. He stood for what we believe in, against the fascists.”

“I- I’ll see you soon,” I try to sound stable. “Tot ziens.”

I hang up the receiver and rejoin Dílis and Ada in the parlor. The hond jumps up and walks over to look up at me expectantly.

“Some of my familie is coming to transport the body,” I announce. “The funeral’s scheduled in Brooklyn next week.”

“You’re going to leave without telling him?”

The idea of facing Thomas again threatens to send me raging again. “His deeds, his sins, took my broer away from me. I don’t need to tell him anything.”

Her dark eyes sadden. “There’s something else you should know. Earlier I got a call from Tom- you-know-who. There were four deaths last night, counting your brother. Liam, Aberama, Barley…”

Ada trails off and licks her lips, looking depressed as well. I rack my brain for anyone who could be missing for her to be like this. 

“And the fourth?” I urge, dreading the news of the victim’s identity. Ada looks back at me and something in her eyes gives me the answer. “No. Not her. Jesus, tell me it wasn’t her!” 

I crumble onto the chair next to her and bury my face in the fabric. She was going to be married! She was finally going to be happy! And after all this time I’ve been too busy distancing myself from Thomas that I selfishly forgot about her.

“No. Not Polly… No!” I cry, letting more tears seep into the chair.

“I know, Verena. We’re all taking a hit,” Ada whispers, her own voice hardened with emotion. “You should know that, once a Gypsy member passes, we do not mention their name.”

“I -I’m sorry,” I gulp. “Gecondoleerd, Ada. I… I can’t believe she’s gone. She was the one who took me in. Lord, I wanted her to meet my moeder so badly. She would have loved her.”

Dílis sets his head on my leg and I reach out to feel his soft fur. Now I know it will not only be me who mourns. As deep as my hatred goes I cannot refuse my condolences to Thomas. Polly was the one who kept him together. She encouraged rationality. She kept tradition and respect alive for us even when her own son threatened it.

“I’m afraid I have to go,” Ada sighs when she checks the clock. “Thomas will want to speak to us and talk more about last night.”

My body stiffens again and Dílis lets out a low growl. “Please understand that I cannot be near him. I fear I might kill him if I see him again. He is not the cause of Liam’s death but it is still a form of perfidy all the same. Please give my sympathies to Michael and the others. You will mourn your familie and I shall mourn mine.” 

I especially need to be there for Liam’s wife, Evelyn. She’s going to be devastated. She’s going to hate me, just as Linda loathes Thomas. I’ll get blamed for her husband’s death, and I will accept that blame. 

After all these years I was still naïve to think that things would get better. Uncle Colon was right. I’ve given too much to this job, this familie, and now it’s taken a toll on my own.

How did I go wrong? 

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 63: A Poor Predicament

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

*Warning: mention of menstrual blood

Watery Lane is still as comfortable as before. I sleep decently, considering that I just saw my past love after five years. Today brings more clouds and a nippy wind that taunts winter’s approach. 

Ow. Today also brings another familiar ache inside of me. The time of the month. I slink out of the cozy covers and make my way to the kitchen’s warm fire. The house itself seems to be still empty.

Does anyone else know I’m back? I knew not to expect an enormous welcome nor did I want one. But it would be nice to know where everyone is now. I was hoping Bonnie might be around for a visit-

Thud.

There’s the front door. Who’s-? Uh-oh. Not him.

No. No. Oh no. That spotted red isn’t the fabric of my skirt- 

“Blood? What the Hell happened?”

Of course Thomas is the one to pop in! And of course it has to be when my cycle begins.

“Verena, what happened?!” Thomas exclaims and lurches forward to inspect my skirt.

“Thomas, calm down! It’s not an injury-”

“Then how the Hell is there blood all over you?!”

“Thomas!” I step back and hold up a hand to calm him. “It’s my menstruation. I can’t help it. I didn’t catch it in time so it stained the fabric. Do not blame me for my anatomy.”

An ‘a-ha’ look takes over Thomas as he processes my words. He glances down at the blood and back at me.

“Your menstruation…” He repeats slowly. “You’re not on birth control?”

“Why would I be? In America, women need permission from their husbands to have it. And I do not approve of tampering with God’s gift He has given me.” I change to a softer tone. “I’m not injured.”

Believe me, I have felt greater pain than this.

Thomas’ panic is easing off but now he’s looking at me in a new light. Like I’m a prized horse. Or a fragile vase that’s easily broken. So being a virgin off of birth control makes me weak now? So help me I’m about to slap his arrogant face-!

“Do you know what Finn’s been thinking?” Thomas changes the subject, toying with a cigarette. “I talked with him today, like you asked. He was thinking of marriage. Do you know who he once thought of marrying?” He tilts his head at me. “You.”

So he picks up on this now? All this time with all the talk of marriage and pregnancies, he now realizes that I am a worthy bachelorette and will be sought out?

“Yes, we discussed it before on occasion,” I respond evenly. “We think it best to stay friends because it feels natural.” I move over to the sink so I can look away when I ask: “Are you jealous?”

A pause. “How can I be?”

“Because your own broer had the guts to do what you can’t.” Shot fired. “Finn didn’t used to be like the rest of you. He could be compassionate without trying to be tough. I’d say don’t ruin his chance for a good life but that ship has sailed.”

Another long pause. “He… says he wants to marry this new girl. Says she likes the life we’ve got.”

Perfect. Another woman chatting about, ousting me just because my last name is not Shelby. 

I take a breath and face Thomas with rebellious determination. “Then that is where God will take him. As you’ve said before, he’s a grown man now. Speaking of grown men, has Michael arrived yet? I assumed he’d be here by now.”

Thomas takes another drag of his cigarette, letting smoke to hover over his face. “You’re right. He took a boat through Belfast. He’s arriving today, and that’s why I’m here.” He points to me. “To tell you that I want you to be at the Garrison for a family meeting.”

Yes, a meeting. I should have expected this. I can’t just skip off to Germany. Lord, everyone’s going to be so on edge. And it means I have to spend more time in the proximity of Thomas. Unfortunately he seems to pick up on my hesitation.

“You’re still employed by Shelby Company Limited, and as your boss I’m ordering you to be there.”

There is no room to argue.

“Fine.” I purse my lips and my eyes narrow. “Is Michael the one to blame for our predicament, then?”

Thomas gives a short grunt. “Yes. Thanks to him, right now we’re losing money. And his attempt at arranging my death won’t go unnoticed either.” He gives me a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry, we will handle him.”

In a fleeting moment of courage I can’t stop myself from speaking. “Having much causes conflict. Maybe this is a hidden message telling you that Shelby Company Limited has grown enough.” I walk past Thomas and give him a quick pat on the shoulder. “My advice? Let God be enough. Not that you still listen to me anyway.”

But even that won’t be good enough for you, will it Thomas? As I leave him to stew on that I head to my room and begin to gather my coat and purse. I also quickly change into a fresh skirt. Damn this menstrual timing. Maybe once this meeting is over then I can take a boat to Amsterdam and begin my way to Oldenburg. Lord knows how Abel’s doing with this. In all the rush of things I still haven’t called him-

“You’re still trying to get me to believe I’m worth something, eh?” Thomas speaks up from down the hall.

I finish buttoning my fox coat and step forward. “It is never too late to walk in faith, Thomas. Faith grows strongest during times of trial. And I can tell that we are going to need all the faith we can muster for this upcoming trial.”

Still being the gentleman he is, Thomas opens the front door and we both head out into the crisp November air. I graciously let the cold wind numb the conflicting emotions clawing at me. Another gleaming Bentley awaits, and when we start driving down the dusty roads Thomas clears his throat.

“Um, happy belated birthday. 27, eh?”

“Yes.”

What else can I say? ‘Yes, Thomas. I’m growing even more older and still haven’t settled.’ ‘Yes, Thomas. I’m practically igniting the rule book of society by staying single.’ No. He does not need any elaboration. He can keep guessing for all I care.

Not much has changed over the years. Same dusty roads, same wanderers looking distantly lost. Right now my mind wants to feel just the same but I cannot let it. We approach the Garrison and I make a silent objective to avoid reattaching myself to this place. There is no use clinging onto old memories and wishing that things have not changed.

“Here we are.”

Thomas parks the Bentley and gets out, starting to round the car. I open my door and step out before he can reach me.

“I am capable, Mr. Shelby.”

Each decline to abide by his first name is another discrete shot. Ones that Thomas tries to ignore but I know better. 

“Steenstra!” A familiar voice shouts from behind.

I turn around and my bland face brightens at the sight of the eldest Shelby broer, who’s wearing a very spiffy suit and bowtie.

“Hello, Arthur!” I reply as he grips my shoulder in greeting.

“Tommy!” He gently punches his broer’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell us she’d be coming!”

“She didn’t either,” Thomas mutters, walking on towards the Garrison. 

“Unfortunately I have not brought any whiskey,” I inform Arthur, both of us ignoring Thomas’ distant behavior.

“Ah, no problem. We’ve got more than enough. Besides, Polly’s going to be happy to see you.”

The pub’s doors open and I follow behind as the two broers confidently stride in. I turn the corner and am greeted by who else? Polly. 

“Verena, dear!” Her face lights up and she rushes over for a hug. “Ada didn’t tell me you were coming!”

“Well, it was quite last-minute. Obviously due to recent events I had to come back.”

A look of understanding crosses over Polly’s eyes and I see her glance shift to Thomas. She knows without elaboration that I am not here for pleasure. I trust she will do well not to prod at my personal barriers as Ada has tried.

“You armed?” Polly asks the broers, holding up a smoking cigarette.

“Yeah.”

“Please consider putting your guns behind the bar in case feelings start to run high.”

“Behind the bar, eh?” Arthur exclaims with wild eyes and dramatically pulls out his pistol. He empties the bullets onto the floor and plops the gun onto a table. “I prefer it there.”

Polly looks at Thomas and he grudgingly complies as well. Thomas starts to say something but cuts himself off over the rustling of my clothes. Everyone looks at me as I pull out two Smith and Wesson pistols from under my skirts, setting them down as well. Despite my welcoming appearance, this American came well prepared.

“Anyway… Had a dream about a black cat last night, Pol,” Thomas declares. “It means there’s a traitor close by, you taught me that.”

Polly takes this news modestly. “A black cat can mean lots of things. It can mean you’re hurting yourself. You're seeing things, Thomas?”

“Yes. Yes I am. Very clearly,” he answers and lights a cigarette. “Coming from every fucking direction.”

Arthur and I exchange glances. A traitor. We’re all thinking it but no one is bold enough to say. And it seems God has sent him this way. Through the window I see a car stop outside and Michael steps out, along with a tall blonde girl in a floral dress with shifty eyes.

“He’s here,” I mutter.

Polly gets an uncertain look. “Should Verena be here, Thomas?”

Thomas doesn’t hesitate. “She’s the foreign representative. Michael’s done his work in America and she needs to hear it. Besides, he has another American for us to interrogate.” He holds up a calming hand to me. “Not directed at you, love.”

No. He’s right. As much as I want to keep stone cold Thomas is right. This new woman is a stranger and we have all learned how unpredictable strangers can be, myself included. Not that I don’t want to offer friendship to whoever she is but I’m not as open as I used to be. Thomas doesn’t need to worry about offending our original encounter.

“I know,” I claim and give him a nod. “I’m on your side.”

The door opens and the couple walks in. Michael tries to keep a laid-back face but his partner looks otherwise. She scans us up and down and when her dark eyes focus on me her gaze all but latches onto me. I don’t let my own eyes soften and take the time to inspect her as well. Business must have been good to them in Detroit before the crash.

“Thomas, I’d like to introduce you to my wife.” 

Michael gestures to the woman, who’s now eying Thomas like he’s a piece of meat. Wife. Oh, I’m sure she loves Michael…’s money. She reminds me of the girls I’d see walking through Williamsburg back home. 

Thomas ignores his request. “Sit down, Michael.”

Michael keeps talking. “I betrayed you, but only in my heart. There was a time in America when there was a lot of money in that bank. I wondered if I could… leave, go to California.”

Oh, you klootzak. He thinks he can just walk away with our money? Granted I haven’t been around either but I know for a fact that I’d never be able to escape the Peaky Blinders if I tried.

“Invest in Hollywood. But Gina stopped me. She said-”

“I told you to sit down, Michael,” Thomas orders, waiting until his neef complies. “Now tell me what happened, on that ship, in Belfast Harbor.”

Belfast. Familiar territory. If Michael won’t spill his guts I’ll make sure Uncle Colon will make him.

Michael looks between Polly and Gina. “On the journey back from New York we needed a witness. He was from Belfast.”

Thomas’ face doesn’t change. “What happened when the ship docked?”

“This person had friends who ran a whiskey distillery in County Tyrone. They wanted a way of getting their stuff into America. So I invited them onboard.”

At the mention of whiskey Thomas’ eyes find mine and I shake my head. No, this is not my uncle’s work. Thank God he must believe me because Thomas looks away.

“When they came in I realized they were Scottish from Glasgow. They didn’t make whiskey. I asked Gina to leave and then they started talking about you, Tom. They said Tommy Shelby was a spent force. That politics had gotten to ‘im. Now was a time to move in, and if I wanted to move in with them. Then men from the IRA came aboard.”

With every word that comes out of Michael’s mouth, we all continue to stare at him as he explains, similar to how a young child might when telling why he did something bad. Laced with fear. For the entire time he keeps an apologetic, almost innocent look of trying to convince us that this is not entirely his fault. 

Thomas waits for a moment. “And the men from Glasgow?”

“The IRA commander said they were called Billy Boys.”

“Fucking Billy Boys,” Arthur grunts. “They run every coal mine on every shipyard east of Glasgow. Protestant razor gang. They also dabble in politics.”

Enemies of Uncle Colon, no doubt. That’s probably why I’ve never heard of these men.

“But you did no deal, Michael,” Polly states. Is she trying to answer for him?

“We were too busy being excited to give you the good news.” Michael smiles and Gina takes the moment to lean in closer to him. “The reason we got married is because Gina is pregnant. You’re going to be a grandmother.”

Another man who couldn’t keep it in his pants. At least they had the decency to wed. Although I’m not too optimistic about these two being considerable parents. But if God has blessed them then I should not judge too harshly. All that’s left is for Thomas to declare his thought on the matter as we all look to him.

“Okay, Michael. I believe you. Welcome home, congratulations. Just remember. Your unborn child has witnessed what you said, and they-”

“Thomas,” Polly warns with wide eyes.

“And it will be born accordingly,” Thomas finishes.

Michael’s eyes flash and he jumps from his seat. “The fuck-?!”

“Where the fuck you going, eh?” Arthur growls and blocks him from Thomas. “You are free to fucking leave, Michael.”

Michael wants to strike so badly. His eyes burn with murderous desire. You wretched bloke. After everything we’ve all gone through I’d hope he would know to treasure the value of family. 

“Fucking bastard!” He hisses.

Thomas doesn’t flinch. “You’re not really free, Michael. You lost this company a lot of money. I told you to sell, but you held on. Now I want you to pay me back what you owe me.”

Ah, sweet karma. It’s such a passive insult but it’s an insult nonetheless. I hope to never be on this family’s list of enemies. If only Gina’s scheming face wasn’t slinking closer.

“Michael, honey. Look at your cousin. He’s in trouble. He needs you.” She gives Thomas a final glance before pulling Michael away. “Come on, baby. Let’s go.”

I can’t help myself. “Good to see you’re keeping up the stereotype that Americans like to party.”

Gina stops in her tracks and looks down at me. “Oh, Michael’s told me all about you.”

My lips press into a line. “Then you do not truly know me.”

Michael scoffs and points at me. “What about her, eh? Steenstra was there too! Slacking off in Grand Rapids while I-!”

Thomas abruptly steps forward and Michael stops yelling. “Verena was still working, Michael. In other places. Grand Rapids, Chicago, Georgia. She was with her family. She understands family, right?”

In the corner of my eyes I see him looking at me. I don’t look away from Michael when I give my cold answer.

“Yes.”

“That is why she owes us nothing,” Arthur clarifies, stroking his gun on the table.

I shake my head with pity. “You have no idea what you just walked into, Michael. You of all people know not to fuck with Thomas Shelby.”

Gina leads Michael out, each looking very cross. Polly escorts them and Arthur shuts the door before I can utter even more harsh words. I can tell Michael’s news has left a mark on Thomas. He keeps staring ahead with the same blank expression. The look that says he’s thinking too deep.

“Ignore them, Thomas. You are not a spent force.” I give him a sturdy pat on the shoulder. “You are a strong and stubborn force that’s going to outlast them all.”

Thomas stays quiet. Arthur, on the other hand, keeps chuckling and looking at where the others just walked out.

“Fucking cheek of her, eh?”

Thomas snaps out of his trance and picks up his gun. “Verena, please make a call for me. I’d like to speak with your uncle.”

I don’t hesitate. “It will be done.”

“Thank you, love.” He looks up with eyes that dare to show me how much fear he has riding on these recent events. “I know I can trust you.”

If only I could say the same.

@meadows5

[sl-newsie]

Just finished watching all of Peaky Blinders. It took less than a year. It's been quite a journey, and it's bittersweet to think that there's no more until the movie comes out.

And now to begin the popular custom of rewatching old shows rather than testing out new ones! 🚬

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 65: A Changing World

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

“Welcome to Amsterdam!” Nathaniel hollers over the blustering, chilly wind.

It really does look like where my familie would come from. The tall and narrow brick buildings are more charming than the architecture in Brooklyn. I say a quick goodbye to Nathaniel and march down the ramp onto the cobblestone road. By now it’s late afternoon and dreary shadows are littering the ground. Up ahead, dozens of people scurry throughout the port. As I make my way through the crowd I pick up Dutch terms here and there. 

“Goedenavond!”

“Neemt u mij niet kwalijk!”

But I’m still not fluent. I suppose that’s one flaw about America. I really do feel out of place. I just hope the train station has an interpreter.

Wheeeee!

Where there’s a train whistle, there’s a train. I hurry up the steep road and start to notice how people here rely on walking for travel. A fraction of motorcars are being used compared to Birmingham and everyone seems fine by it. We’ll all have to get used to it. Cars cost money. Walking doesn’t.

I spot a sign with plaatsbewijs printed on top and tickets printed below. So somebody must speak English here.

“Hallo!” The lady at the desk greets as I step up. She sounds like Oma. “What can I get for you?”

“A ticket for Oldenburg, alsjeblieft.”

 I hand her the pounds and she seems taken aback to see the money. Most people will probably react the same. The world’s a different place now since the crash. The lady exchanges the pounds for guilders and hands me a stub.

“There you are, joung mevrouw. Have a safe trip!”

I secure the ticket inside my purse and clutch it closely. The abundance in cash and my fur coat will do no good to keep myself anonymous. This is my first time alone in this country and I do not plan on being mugged by misfortuned bystanders. There are other ways I can help dispense money. 

The design of this train looks similar to the one from this morning, only the interior is much more grey and mournful. How appropriate. I take a seat by the windows and look out distantly at the growing darkness as daylight slips away.

“You are from someplace else, ja?” A man’s voice asks as the train lurches forward.

He’s choosing to sit across from me, as is another man who appears to be his friend. Both men look to be a few years younger than me. Almost Michael’s age. They’re both wearing brown jackets and trousers to bundle up from the cold. The tallest is wearing a wool hat.

“Yes. But how did you know?” As if my accent doesn’t already give it away.

The two men share prankful smiles. “You may not think so, but we can spot foreigners quite easily.”

The tallest raises a hand to show no harm. “Don’t fret, you have done nothing wrong. We just like to mess with people!”

Something about their gentle and hospitable nature tells me I can relax. The night approaches further and in the next hour we three carry out a friendly conversation. Both men are intrigued to meet an American, especially one who traveled from England. The tallest one is Johan and his colleague is Niek, both from North Holland and onward to see Niek’s tante and oom in Zwolle. I choose not to disclose the entirety of why I’m here so I keep it simple by saying I’m visiting familie as well.

“In Germany?” Johan ponders. “Even with the Nazis?”

“My broer and his wife keep to themselves. We do not agree with the Nazis. I first hoped to find out if they might consider leaving but after the market crash I’m not sure if they will be stable enough.”

Niek rubs his forehead and sighs. “We all will be asking that question. Is anyone stable now?”

Johan shrugs. “We should have enough-”

“I’m not talking about money,” he interrupts. “Are we stable as a society? Will this be the trigger for some people? The tipping point? I for one am looking to see if people’s mentality is stable.”

Niek’s words ring through my head and we fall into a deep silence. It reminds me of how unstable Thomas seemed when I left him. I know for a fact he’s going to keep himself busy to avoid the stress. I have little faith that Lizzie will help with it. Curse my empathisch nature but it still tugs at my heart to think of him alone in that soulless house.

“Veel geluk, Verena!” 

Johan’s parting words shake me from my thoughts. The train’s stopped. This must be where they get off.

“Tot ziens!” I wave before they walk out of the train car.

Only a short while until we enter Germany, and soon after that Oldenburg. When the train starts up again I allow the rhythmic clicking of the tracks to lull me to sleep…

“All out for Oldenburg!” The conductor announces.

Jesus! I stumble out of my seat and shake away the lingering fatigue. That was fast. Either that or I’m much more tired than I thought. I quickly grab my luggage and file out with the other passengers onto the platform. 

So far Germany looks similar to Amsterdam’s quaint streets, but there is a glaring difference. The bright-colored swastika flags lining the walkways. Lord help us. As I walk to the outskirts of the city the flags become fewer. So the Nazi influence must be targeted at the inner-city government but the countryside is less affected. So far. Right now I breathe in the brisk air and take in the frozen fields spanning into the horizon. It’s almost as if nature is noticing the shifts in the world too-

Beep! Beep!

“Verena!”

No! How did he-?

I whip my head around and gasp. “Broer!” 

It is Abel! Driving a pickup truck. 

“Verena! It’s been too long!” He cheers and jumps out to pull me into a hug. “Hop in! I’ll get your trunk.”

I take a second to look at his face. He’s kept his youthful appearance but has begun to grow a beard for the upcoming winter. It's been so long since our last visit.

In ten minutes we’re driving back and engaging in a tour of the area. This place is definitely somewhere Abel would live. Isolated, rustic, reflective. The few pictures of his home he’s shown in the past hardly does it justice. The sturdy-looking house is built along the forest edge; its lighted windows casting ghostly shadows across the lawn.

“Here we are!” Abel announces and helps me carry my things to the door. 

I walk in and observe the new atmosphere. Well, I shouldn’t say ‘new.’ This place holds a familiar comforting aspect that reminds me of home. A stocked kitchen, wooden staircase, cozy den. And to add to this-

“My, what a surprise!” A friendly voice calls out from the kitchen.

It’s Anna. Abel’s wife. She, like Abel, is bundled up against the cold. Her blonde hair has added some grey strands since I last saw her. Still, her warm personality has not changed a bit.

“Hello, Anna! And- Oh!” I gasp when a stampede of their four kids ambushes me. “Hello, everyone!”

“It’s taunte Verena!” Little Ruth cheers, hugging my legs.

“Children, children!” Anna reprimands and shoos them off. “Give your taunte some space!”

“Come on, everyone!” Another voice beckons and I see Anna’s broer wave at me from the stairs.  “Hello, Verena!”

“Hello, Franz. Still pulling the needle and thread?”

He lets out a grunt when the kids pile onto him. “Every day. Still scurrying to and fro for the Englishman?”

The reminder of Thomas short circuits my thoughts. Yes, this is technically a mission to connect the company with national businesses. However, I am specifically here for my familie. But is that how I appear now? Just a foreign representative that caters to Thomas’ crazy whims?

Thankfully Anna notices my hesitation and claps her hands. “Children! It is far past your bedtime. You can talk with taunte Verena tomorrow. Upstairs, now!”

Ankia and Nolan break past everyone to make it up first, trailed by Ruth and Elsa. We wait in silence and listen to the rampaging noise upstairs until it sounds that the kids have settled down. Franz takes my trunk and points me over to a door off to the side.

“This is our spare room. You can sleep here.”

“Liam told us you were heading this way,” Abel says as Anna hands me a warm mug of tea. “I’m assuming you are here for more than just a familie visit?”

He’s right. The unspoken thoughts linger and the air grows tense again. Anna exchanges looks with her husband and takes a hint. After she discreetly escorts Franz away, Abel and I take a seat at the table. 

“Something’s got you troubled, zus.”

“We just got plunged into a depression,” I state obviously.

Abel shakes his head. “I know. But whatever you’re facing is more than that.”

I chuckle lightly and sip the tea. “You can read people so well.”

“So can you. Everyone but yourself.”

“Oh I can very well read myself. Whether or not I decide to accept it is another matter.”

Abel snickers and leans back in his chair with a look that says he’s deep in thought. “You sound different.”

My brow furrows at his vague comment. “Good different?”

“Wise. Proper. Like an English monarch. Or a poet.”

I huff and raise an eyebrow. “Would you rather I belt out harsh nonsense like we do back home? Brooklyn streets filled with everyone screaming?” I smile lightly and let out a deep breath. “In my new ways of speaking I’ve begun to detangle my biggest flaw.”

Able cocks his head to the side. “You’re too trusting?”

Spot on. There’s no doubt he proves his dependable character for our family.

“Correct,” I praise and raise my cup for a mock toast. “I think almost every person I meet can be a good person. It was foolish of me to ever endure the idea of human perfectionism.”

“That is the way of the world,” Abel admits.

“Yes,” I mutter, running my thumb on the scratches littering the wooden table. “Now my broken self is hastily repaired.”

Abel doesn’t need to press on. He was one of the only people who first guessed why I was so upset when I left Birmingham four years ago. After less than a week he guessed I was enduring heartbreak and helped keep it secret from moeder and vader. Now that I am here he’s already guessed that I’m working with Thomas again.

“Don’t cut yourself short, zus. Sometimes we need your wild spirit to tow us along.”

“If you are referring to this depression then I’m afraid I do not have much good news for you.”

Abel grunts and stands up to pour some whiskey. “Oh, I know. Vader telephoned me yesterday and told me about the conditions at home.”

I’m almost too afraid to ask. “And the conditions here?”

He downs the shot. “Hell. We’re thankful to be on the edge of the country in order to avoid those raging bastards in the capital. People don't pay much attention yet but they're staining our government. The only reason we’re still here is because of Anna’s parents, but we’re convincing them to consider moving west.”

I hum in consideration. “Any idea where?”

“In my opinion, the further the better. I’d even consider England since you’re always admiring it.”

Now for question two. “How is business here?”

Abel sighs and gestures to where his familie just left. “Franz works the best he can. The Müller’s family shop is still up and running. People still need clothes, although with this new depression we’re starting to notice people sewing their own clothes to save money. Did you know that you can make dresses out of feed sacks?”

“How inventive,” I remark with light humor and reach for my purse. “I came here with an offer. If you need any support then Shelby Company limited is willing to partner with you.”

Abel locks eyes with me and processes this carefully. “Is that what Shelby sent you here for?”

I shake my head stiffly. “I came here on my own accord to ask you. And to give you this.” I hand him some of the bills Thomas paid me. “It’s part of my latest payment. The rest is going to vader.”

Abel holds the money as if I just gave him a delicate vase. No doubt he’s already thinking of using the money to help them move. After a few moments of staring at the bills he looks up at me with a soft expression.

“Shelby treats you alright?”

“Financially, yes.”

His gaze doesn’t falter. “And in other terms?”

My eyes narrow and I keep it brief. “No.”

Abel shakes his head sadly and sits back down. “Shame. I thought you could make friends with anybody.”

“I can. He doesn’t deserve it.”

"Then why do you sound so unsure?" Abel questions softly.

"God’s will becomes my will. If I submit my needs to the will of God then my needs will be fulfilled."

"Yes. But what if He is trying to fulfill your needs by steering you where you keep avoiding?" Abel stands and pushes his chair in. "I’ll leave it at that. You are tired from traveling. Get some rest and we can resume this tomorrow. How long are you planning on staying?”

I swallow and try to hide my sheepish look. “Would you mind if I stay a few days? I told Thomas I would be gone for two weeks.”

My broer claps me on the back. “You’re always welcome, zus.”

At least hospitality isn’t dead in this world yet.

For the next few days I get caught up with Abel and his familie. Him and Franz go into the shop every day to sew and sometimes make house calls for hemming. I help them draw up and look over our new contracts, guaranteeing them stability to move out of Germany. Anna upkeeps chores around the house with the help of the children. From what I witness, Anika and Nolan are the most social and interact more when we go into the market. Ruth and Elsa keep more to themselves and play more games. 

Throughout this visit I have to push away the regret of avoiding courtship. Seeing Abel so happy like all of my other broers seems to pinch at me and keep me thinking that I’m missing something. Or someone. But our familie security comes first.

Today is my last day. Tomorrow I will repack and begin the journey back to England. Instead of moping indoors I decide to take another walk into town. But something stands out about today. Next to the large fountain there are two people standing next to a crate. One is a short man with dark hair and the other is a woman with hair braids like mine. I step closer and peer down into the crate.

Arf!

Something furry jumps up and licks my hand. Huh? I do a double-take and realize it’s- a puppy? A puppy! A brown and black-patterned pup with curious eyes. But why is he alone in a crate?

“Are you getting acquainted with this little one?” The man asks when he sees me.

“He’s the last of his litter,” his partner says.

“He is darling!” I gush and kneel closer. “What breed is he?”

“A German Shepherd,” the man explains. “Purebred, and I must say this is one of the most energetic litters we’ve ever had.” 

“Are you in the market for one?” The woman inquires. “These dogs are incredibly loyal.

A new idea sticks in my head. He’s alone too. And of all times for me to come here I find him.

“Loyal, you say…” I look down again at the energetic dog and my hesitation starts to break down.

“Ja, ja. Very deadly should you upset them or their master.”

I nod and look back up at them. “How much?”

“200 pounds,” the man answers delicately.

Jesus! That’s steep, especially since I’m on a tight budget. But then again everyone’s taking a hit right now.

“I promise you these dogs are worth their price,” the woman adds. “They can be easily trained.”

If I’m going to remain a bachelorette in Birmingham maybe a trained canine companion isn’t a bad idea. Besides, who else is going to have enough money to pay for him?

“Does he understand English?” I ponder, reaching down to stroke his soft fur.

“A smidgen. But they’re bred for commands in German. Do you speak?”

How different can it be from Dutch? The dog lets out another eager yip and convinces me to learn more of another language. Apparently I don’t have enough on my plate as it is.

“No. But I can try.”

Ten minutes later the dog and I are both walking back to Abel’s, with a plain brown collar and lead keeping him from chasing every squirrel we encounter. I only have a few commands those two sellers gave me and so far it seems to work. We stop in front of another cottage and the dog sees another squirrel.

“Halt! Stop!” I order and pull on the lead. The pup freezes and looks up at me with pleading eyes. “I know you want to rip that rodent to pieces but you can’t.”

“Verena?” Someone gasps from behind.

Who else here would know me-? Oh!

“Zipporah! Is that you?” I gawk.

It is her! The Jewish girl I met back home! This must be her house! She looks almost exactly the same as two years ago. Same curly dark hair, same kind eyes, same wide smile!

Zipporah sets down the basket she’s carrying and rushes over to give me an embrace that stands out warm against the bitter wind. The second she does the pup starts to growl.

“Platz. Down. She is a friend,” I tell him while Zipporah scratches his ears.

“Goodness! I haven’t seen you since we visited America! I’m surprised Abel didn’t tell us you were here!”

“You know my broer-?” I start to ask but cut myself off when I notice more of her family placing suitcases in a nearby wagon. “Wait- Why are you all packing?”

The timid woman looks at her family and then back to me with troubled eyes. “Momma and papa say we must leave. There have been neighborhoods across Germany who do not take kindly to Jews. We are not waiting around to be evicted.”

Raging images of the swastikas from earlier flash angrily through my head and my fists clench. Not only does her sweet family have to be dealt the depression but also this horrendous persecution! So help me as soon as I get back I'm bringing this matter straight to Thomas! We have more than enough money that can go to helping these poor people.

“That is outright awful!” I curse and reach for her hand. “Surely there’s something we can do? Anything to help?”

“I’m afraid not. We are traveling to Boston to live with my Uncle Elijah. Once we’re settled I can come by to visit your family.” Suddenly her glum expression is replaced by hopeful eyes. “There is more good news! I’m to be married once we arrive.”

There’s that word again. Marriage. It’s affecting everyone around me. I really am happy for her but hearing of how this matrimony is being planned doesn’t sit well. Maybe it’s a warning telling me that sooner or later moeder and vader might think of partaking in the same thing for me. 

“Congratulations on your blessing.” I think for a second and word myself carefully so as to not cause offense. “I just don’t see why you’re so open to an arranged marriage, Zipporah.”

Her gleeful face does not change. “Momma and papa insist. Besides, it will be fun to meet someone! We’re both not getting any younger, you know.”

I gawk at her. “You’re barely twenty five! Do you want to be stuck with a stranger for the rest of your life?”

“And be a mother?” Zipporah whispers with joy. “Yes. Don’t you?”

I open my mouth to answer but my heart’s too confused. Obviously my answer is yes but there is so much to add to it. Do I dare tell her about Thomas? We’ve never spoken about my job nor my affiliation with the Peaky Blinders. 

“Life has… God’s path for me hasn’t been straight and even,” I answer slowly and begin to trail off. “I’m not sure if…”

Zipporah reads my eyes perfectly and doesn’t press further. “It’s all His plan. We can’t predict it even if we try. I’m sure He will send you someone wonderful.” She kneels down to stroke the puppy again. “Just like this little cutie! Where did you find him?”

“A seller in the marketplace,” I explain. “I wasn’t planning on buying a puppy but I couldn’t just leave him.”

“What are you going to name him?”

Good question. “They said he is very loyal…”

The pup takes a seat next to my boots and looks up at me expectantly, as if he knows we’re talking about him. 

Zipporah lets out a laugh and pats his head. “He certainly is. Then a name of loyalty he must have.”

@meadows5

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 55: Resolved Debt

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

For the rest of the day I keep myself busy by cleaning out the entire house. Every time I look over at my suitcase in the corner my stomach ties into a knot. Maybe Alfie’s right. I shouldn't be here. All that’s happened since I got here has gone from complicated to worse. And- 

Okay, where is Thomas? I take another glance out the window. Mr. Solomons has returned with his gang but Thomas is missing. He wouldn’t forget to accompany his friend back to his car. Did something come up?

I leave Charlie asleep on the sofa and stick my head out the door to call across the street.

“Where’s Thomas? I thought he was with you.”

Alfie looks up and sees me shouting. He motions for his men to wait and walks over to the front steps, leaning his cane on the railing.

“The man left for some errands. Mentioned something about the foundation or whatever.”

“Just him? No one else went with him?”

He scoffs. “How the fuck would I know?”

That doesn’t sound like Thomas. All these weeks he’s stressed about security and keeping in pairs. He would have told Alfie where he was going.

“Alone…” A light flicks on in my head and panic sprints through me. Polly! “That’s means-! I need to find him!”

I lurch forward to start running but Alfie reaches out and grabs my arm. No no no! This must be what Polly set up! Changretta will want to get Thomas alone so he can kill him-!

“Whoa, whoa.” Alfie tugs me back. “Whatever this mess is, you are not in it.”

I try to pull away. “Polly did this! She-!”

“Not. Your. Business. You want something to do? Go tend to his boy.”

“I-”

“Verena.” The Jewish gangster gives me a certain look. “We both know that a father without his son is the worst thing we can let happen to him. He needs someone like you to look after Charlie.”

“I have been!” I cry out with a cross between rage and despair. “And he never tells me anything! I am not going to wait for a note saying he’s been shot!”

“Steenstra, coming from a man who knows how Tommy thinks, let me say this. He has strange ways of showing affection.” Alfie, seeing that I’ve calmed down a fraction, pats my shoulder. “I’ll leave it at that.”

Yes, because that cleared up so many questions! I watch the man stride back to his car and see him give a final wave as the vehicle starts driving away. So I’m subjected to what all other Shelby women struggle through. Staying safe indoors while I wait for Thomas to tell me what’s going on. 

Thud! The sound of the back door sends me sprinting down the hall. No more of this-! 

“Polly?”

The Romanian woman walks past my shocked face and starts to light a cigarette.

“What a surprise,” I droll darkly. “Are you here to apologize to Charlie for killing off his dad?”

She flicks some ash into the sink. “Tommy isn’t dead.”

Not dead? Not…? Okay, then what did happen? She can’t hide it from me! Polly’s worried just as I am!

I clench my fists and march straight up to her. “Somebody better start telling me what the fuck is going on right now-!”

“We’re holding a family meeting,” Polly explains all too calmly. “I’ll explain everything then. Right now, keep your head clear. You don’t need to pick up Tommy’s hot-headedness.”

“My head clear? My head clear?” I hiss. “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been trying to keep a clear head throughout these past weeks?”

Polly just shakes her head and walks off to see Charlie. My shoulders slump and I lean against the wall. Not Polly too. Is Ada the only other one who understands this insanity? Can somebody tell me anything?

Knock knock.

I cannot handle any more of this. That better be a bloody angel because, dear God, I need some good news-!

“Hello.”

Thomas. It’s Thomas. Alive. Holding a parcel.

“Thank Christ. You son of a bitch!” 

My anger fazes into frustrated relief and my knees buckle. Thomas uses his free hand to grab me just before I can crumple to the ground. He stands me up and I bury my face into his warm coat. At the same time I weakly pound a fist against his shoulder, still raging about his return.

“Y-You could’ve- I thought you were going to die!” I gasp. “What happened, Thomas? What the fuck is going on?” I look back at the parcel. “And what is this? More guns?”

Thomas clears his throat and helps me stand straighter. “Verena, about the argument from before. I understand that you’re only looking out for your family. None of this is your fault. I know you’re not working for Changretta.”

“Thomas… That’s really sweet, and I accept your apology, but just moments ago I was about to pull my hair out worrying about if you had been killed!” 

“Here, here. Let’s get inside.” Thomas ushers me back into the warm house and shuts the door. “I know, none of this has been fair for you. And the Hudson-”

“Don’t mention the car, Thomas. I needed to stop keeping quiet and thought that it would help-”

“Oh it does, love.” Thomas licks his lips. “It’s a gorgeous car. But I still owe you a big apology for this whole mess. So to make it up, Charlie and I picked out this a few days ago. Thought you’d like it.”

He passes me the box. Why does he look… scared? Excited? It’s hard to tell. And why is the box light? I remove the top and peer inside. It’s- It’s… A beautiful white coat! An elegant, warm coat that feels almost too soft to the touch. He picked this out for me?

My jaw drops and I immediately start shaking my head. “Thomas, I cannot accept this. It’s too much.”

Thomas sees the joy in my eyes and refuses to take the parcel back. “‘Course not. You need something to keep you warm here. Please.” He puts a hand over mine and gently pushes the box further against me. “Please take it.”

“It’s genuine fox fur!” I gush. “This must have cost a fortune! If I wear this half of England will come running expecting me to be some prime duchess or somebody important.”

“You are important. To us.”

He didn’t say ‘to me.’ Is this an apology for the argument or saying sorry for pushing me onto the ‘women to pay no mind’ list?

“Thanks again for watching Charlie.”

He’s had his hands full with this vendetta business that he’s had no time for his own son. A steep understatement. So was I wrong? Thomas really does care? He just… has strange ways of showing affection.

I grudgingly accept the gift and smile warmly. “You never need to thank me for watching him.”

Thomas closes his eyes and rubs his temple. “There’s so much I need to thank you for, love.”

Then why do I still feel pushed away?

“Thomas.” I hold up the coat. “You don’t need to apologize with this. Just promise me you will keep me informed. Promise me.”

He leans against the wall I’ve backed him into and sighs. “I can’t.” His piercing blue eyes look down at me with something I can’t quite decipher. “You know why.”

I bite my lip and take a deep breath. “Yes. I know why. But it doesn’t hurt to ask again.”

I love you, Thomas! And it makes me saddened with worry and sick with anger that I will never be good enough for you.

Thomas starts to reach over but holds back. “I know you still believe I’m worth saving. But- But all I’ve given you are more problems. You don’t-”

“Tommy.”

Polly cuts him off and motions for him to follow her to the parlor. Did she do that on purpose? How am I supposed to pry anything out of Thomas without being interrupted?

Thomas sits in an armchair, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, and stares at Charlie playing with his blocks. He doesn’t notice right away when Polly offers him a drink.

“What do you think you’re going to tell Arthur?” she asks.

Thomas doesn’t blink. “I’m going to tell them the truth.”

“Did she like the coat?” Charlie asks shyly from the floor.

Thomas doesn’t answer right away so I speak for him. “I love it, Charlie. It’s beautiful. Did you help pick it out?”

He grins proudly. “Yeah! It was the softest one.”

In the corner of my eye I see Thomas look over at me. He’s still holding something back. But what?

Polly moves over to look out the window. “They’re here.”

I will have to wait for another time. Again. I was so close to telling him.

Another family meeting. Another awkward silence while everyone waits for Thomas to speak. This time I choose to wait with Charlie in the hall while everyone else gathers around the table.

After a minute Arthur speaks up. “Heard there was a shooting today.”

Thomas nods. “Yeah. I killed three men today. Now our enemies will have to wait.”

Arthur and I exchange the same look of surprise, while Lizzie and Ada don’t look the least bit shaken. That’s what was waiting for Thomas today. But he lived.

Charlie tugs at my skirt and points to his dad. “Was daddy in trouble?”

“No, no,” I whisper and kneel down next to him. “Your vader just met up with some bad men.”

“Suppose they took you by surprise?” Arthur asks gruffly.

“No. I knew they were coming.”

Hold the phone. He knew?

Polly speaks up. “A few months ago I received a letter from Luca Changretta, offering to spare my son if I gave up Tommy. And I gave Tommy up.”

“Which is the plan that Polly and I agreed on,” Thomas explains. “I knew Luca would want to pull the trigger himself so I used this as a setup to bring him in.”

He locks eyes with me and sees my growing irritation. All this time? He knew all this time what he was getting himself into and he told me nothing! 

“I didn’t get Luca, but I got three. All right?” He walks over and leans down to pick Charlie up. “Come here, you.”

Johnny Doggs holds up a glass. “I thought you’d gone soft. I drink to you, Tom.”

“So you got three?” Uncle Charlie asks.

Thomas nods. “I got three.”

“Well, I drink to you, Tom.”

Charlie looks back and forth in confusion. “Dad, you got three what?”

Thomas laughs and pokes his chest. “I got three shillings for a two-shilling horse.” I guess that’s one way to put it. “Now, my boy, you come with us, eh?”

Charlie giggles and gives me a wave goodbye. Arthur lets out a laugh and ruffles the boy’s hair.

“Been playing with Aunt Verena, eh Charlie?”

Suddenly Thomas’ gaze hardens. “No, Arthur.”

“Why not? She’s basically a sister.”

Yes. Why not? I should think that I deserve aunt status at this point. And why is Polly looking at Thomas like that? Almost like she knows something…

The Romanian woman catches me looking and busies herself by grabbing her coat. “I’m picking up Michael from the hospital tomorrow. Then I'm dropping him off to Mr. Gold on the outskirts.”

I stifle a laugh. “Michael? In the woods? He’s going to hate it.”

Polly rolls her eyes. “He’s going to deal with it.”

Once she walks out, Thomas sticks his head back in, with Charlie still clinging to his neck.

“We’re going out for a drink. When I bring Charlie back for his nap, will you watch him ‘til I get back tonight?”

I put my hands on my hips and give him a cheeky glare. “I suppose Charlie can spend more time with his non-aunt.” My teasing fades. “You’re not staying?”

Thomas notices my disappointment and tilts my chin up. “I've got some paperwork but I’ll be back. I promise.”

Thomas does fulfill his promise… eventually. He brings Charlie back just as it starts to turn dark, tucking the yawning child into bed. But he walks back out again, no doubt off to overwork himself. Thomas seemed eager to come back but does not return until the early hours of the morning. I don’t know what kept him but when I hear the door open I put down the dishes I’m washing and head straight for him.

“You’re back late. Charlie’s- Thomas? What is it?”

His face. All hints of conquering and happiness from earlier are gone. Replaced by a sad stare. He looks as if someone just slapped him.

Thomas’ mouth opens and closes while he tries to think of what to say. He pinches the bridge of his nose and removes his hat.

“Did Polly tell you?”

Tell me what? In case he hasn’t noticed yet, I’ve been kept in the dark with many important bulletins as of late. 

“I take that as a no.” Thomas lets out a deep breath. “Lizzie, she’s… pregnant.”

Tug! My body goes still and I grip the dish towel even harder. The blood drains from my face. My heartbeat screams in my ears. I lean against the wall, keeping my shocked, distraught face hidden away. All this time…

“Th-That’s wonderful, Thomas,” I manage to say through my shreiking thoughts. “Another baby is another blessing.”

I feel Thomas put his warm hand on my tense shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Alright? Alright?! Is he fucking joking?!

“Yes, just tired.” I pull away and fling the towel onto the counter, changing to a colder persona. “Is there anything else, Mr. Shelby?”

My heartless tone hits Thomas square in the chest. A sorrowful look freezes over his face. Good.

“No.”

“Congratulations again. I’m sure Charlie will be happy to have a sibling.”

I rush back to my room and fight the urge to slam the door right off its hinges. It’s happening all over again. They have a baby, he marries her, I’m pushed away again. Sticks and stones, best wishes to them both. At least Grace brought a sense of peace to Thomas. Lizzie only seems to bring out the rough side of him.

Lizzie Stark? Lizzie fucking Stark. Back to his old ways. He will kiss any woman but me. Always another woman. Just when he starts to open up, he uses someone else. Is my love invisible to him? There he goes again, back to Lizzie while I’m taunted for being single. 

Thud! That was the front door.

Yes. Go, Thomas. That’s one fucking context clue you pick up on! I want to be alone.

I’m just another whore to you, Thomas Shelby. You’ve said it yourself. We’re all whores, we just sell different parts of ourselves. I’ve sold you my time. Each year I saved my time for you and your family, your Shelby Company Limited. And for what? 

Ring! Ring!

If that’s Lizzie Stark I’m going to rip the phone clear from the wall! I roughly pick up the receiver. On the other end I hear the distinct chatter of two people.

“Verena?”

No. No. No. I do not need a talk full of pity.

“Please, Finn… Not now. You too, Ada.”

I hear Ada sigh. “He told you?”

I choke back a sob and wipe the pooling tears from my eyes. “Yes. God smiles on us again.”

“Verena-”

“PLEASE!” I shriek and cover my mouth to keep myself from breathing too fast. “Just- Just leave me be.”

I hang up before they can argue. That does it. I’m not playing this game anymore. As soon as this bloody fight is over I’m packing my bags for home! Company employee or not, I will not stick around to work in these harassing conditions. Despite my lingering love for that klootzak, it’s not enough to win me over to stay anymore. No more moral obligation. My debt is finally paid.

Maybe I will be too cold, Thomas. Too empty and numb. But I’ve followed you around too long, hoping you might love me back. If this is what it takes to earn love, it’s a cost I’m not willing to pay.

And yet even if I’m leaving for good, my heart will never be free from you.

@meadows5

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 69: Restructured

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

The next day I begin drafting a resignation letter. Contract or no contract, I am not going to work for a fascist. I can find other ways to earn money. I will not stand by while Mosley treats people with such disrespect and dismantles the capitalist system my vader abides by. Thank God Thomas knows to leave me alone and has kept away from Watery Lane these past few days.

Liam is most displeased as well. He telephoned Abel and warned him, then phoned Conor in America. My frustrated broer left for the office an hour ago, leaving me some much-needed quiet.

Grr. Dílis growls when footsteps approach the door. Rr-raw-raw-ruh!

The canine jumps up and bounds over to the door, snapping at Thomas as he tries to get in.

“Bloody Hell!” He roars, surprised by the attack.

Should I let my dog misbehave or use my own bark to scare Thomas away? Both can suffice.

“Dílis! Halt! Komm.” The dog trots back to me and stops by where I’m sitting. “Zit. Bleib.” He lays down on the rug and watches me. “Braver hund.”

“That beast nearly had me!” Thomas snaps, staring between Dílis and me.

I give him a pointed stare. “Next time, knock.”

Thomas groans and pinches his forehead. “Linda is gone. Ben Founder is dead.”

Ben is- He’s gone? Oh, poor Ada. She must be so distraught. First Freddie and now him. But I don’t understand. What does Thomas want me to do? I made my side of the matter quite clear last night. I am not going to let anymore of this seep into my familie’s lives.

Thomas looks up when he’s done waiting for a response. “Are you going to stop talking to me again?”

His exasperated tone makes me slam my book shut. “I never signed up to work for a fascist. Or a racist. Or in a business involving opium. Your actions are going against everything I believe in! What my family believes in!” I stand up and point right at him. “I will also mention that I will be informing Uncle Colon of your new friend. He will not like it one bit.”

Thomas sets down his cap and strides over to corner me in my chair. “I’m not making an alliance with that bastard. I’m spying on him, Verena. I don’t believe in any of those things. Sometimes you need to earn the trust of your enemies so when they turn their backs on you, you'll get the chance to drive a knife in.” His icy blue eyes shift in all directions, as if to convince me through a staring contest. He finally blinks and picks up his hat. “Hop to it. There’s a family meeting in one hour.”

“Wait,” I call before he gets too far, stopping him in his tracks but still facing away. “If this is the route the company is taking then I am not going to be a part of it. I’m going to make a life for myself back home. In Michigan.”

Thomas still refuses to look at me. “Alright. So you’re finally leaving the Peaky Blinders.”

No more holding back. “I want a married life, Thomas. I haven’t had one. And all the women I know say they wouldn’t give it up for anything.” Except Lizzie. “I want a family life. I want a child. And I’m tired of looking in all the wrong places.”

Places like Birmingham. It’s dreary, industrial neighborhoods of slums offer no promise of what a normal life is supposed to be. Instead of fresh air and sunshine it gives ash-filled skies and chilling rain. Somehow I grew a soft spot for this place; maybe because of how it reminds me of home.

Another soft spot that refuses to leave is my conflicting emotions for Thomas. He tries so hard to find the best solution when he comes out on top, even if it means facing danger by associating with Nazis. After all I’ve tried to tell him he still isn’t satisfied until he’s checked off every box. Right now he pulls on a straight face but it makes me wonder if he’s going to spiral down again just like last time.

I change to a calmer tone. “I’ve told you before that faith grows strongest during times of trial. Fear is the biggest enemy to faith. No matter what happens once I’m gone, don’t feel afraid.”

Thomas’ figure tenses and he whips around to stare at me. “How the bloody Hell am I supposed to have faith now?”

“I cannot decide for you. Believe God’s truth. Look past the circumstances and see what you’re already blessed with, Thomas. You have two beautiful children. If you cannot find faith for yourself, have faith for them.”

He stays quiet, gaping at me as I walk to the closet and grab my coat. Meeting you has changed me forever. My life will never be the same. It’s too late to ignore it. I love you. You’ve taught me to not always play by the rules of someone else's game. But now I need to trust my instincts and forget. I'm setting my own rules now.

“One more family meeting,” I decide as I slip it on and adjust a hat over my two braids. “I shall use the occasion to say my goodbyes.”

I hear Thomas grunt. “Michael and Gina are coming too.”

“Good. One American being replaced by another.”

We get to the door but Thomas holds it before I can walk through. “No one can ever replace you, Verena.”

We drive to the Garrison in silence. When we walk in I see we’re the last to arrive. The gang’s all here. Arthur, Polly, Finn, Michael, and Gina all wait at a table. Aberama sits at the counter while Jerimiah. Uncle Charlie, Johnny Doggs, and Curly step aside to let Thomas pass. The one who isn’t here is Ada. I don’t blame her in the slightest.

“Zit, Dílis,” I order. The hond obeys and takes a spot next to Polly.

While Thomas heads to the table I slip into the back room and pick up the telephone. After a few rings I hear Ada pick up.

“Verena?”

Lord, she sounds exhausted. “It’s me, Ada. How’s the baby?”

There’s the sound of her breath shaking. “I-I’m fine.”

“Ada. I am so sorry. I just heard.”

“I- I didn’t fully love him. But I liked him. Now he’s gone…” Ada trails off and sighs. “Get out of our lives, Verena. Get out while you still can. Before we fuck up your life too.”

Too late.

“Funny you should say that. I… I’m considering resignation.”

There’s a pause over the phone. “I’ll miss you. Maybe I’ll come visit once things calm down.”

If only she were here in person. “You are always welcome, Ada. I’m afraid I have to go now. 'Family meeting,' you know.”

“Good luck.”

Click.

Ada hangs up without a formal goodbye. I don’t know how she’s putting up with this. At least she has Karl and a child on the way to keep her busy.

“…He and Polly are to be married in three weeks with my blessing. From now on he will be welcome at our meetings.”

Thomas must be talking about Mr. Gold. I hang up the phone and rejoin the group, taking the liberty to pour a small whiskey. Most everyone keeps watching Thomas but in the corner of my eye I see Gina watching me. 

“First item of business: bereavement. Colonel Ben Younger, who might have become a member of this family, was taken from us by dark forces. We’ve made some investigations. We think we know who planted the bomb. In the meantime, our thoughts are with Ada. Hopefully her new baby will sit here in the future, but under happier circumstances.”

I clutch my glass tighter and lock eyes with Polly. We’re both thinking the same thing.  Jesus, Thomas. Another heir to your line of gangsters. You see how Finn’s become. Why must you pull Ada’s children into this as well?

“Let’s drink to happier circumstances,” Polly mutters as she pours another whiskey.

“To Ada!” Arthur cheers.

“To Ada!” We all chorus and sip our drinks.

Thomas coughs and continues on. “Item number two. An announcement regarding Michael.”

The man clears his throat to interrupt him. Here we go. “Before you go on, Tommy, there’s something I’d like to say. About finances. According to your estimations, the delivery and shipment of opium will bring in around 2 million pounds per year. Therefore, I think this company should be restructured.”

Of course he’d suggest that. Restructured. What a nice way of rewording.

“Michael,” Polly speaks up. “I think this can wait ‘til outside the family meeting.”

Even his own moeder  doesn’t agree.

Thomas keeps his eyes focused on Michael. “Restructured in what way?”

Gina answers for him. “Because of the money involved, shipment will be the primary source of income to the company. It’s simple mathematics.”

Michael stands up and goes to stand protectively behind her. “With the help of my wife, I will organize expansion into America, into narcotics. I have good contacts in Detroit, Boston, New York, who I’ve already spoken to. The narcotics business will ring in twenty million dollars per annum. Enough for you all to enjoy an easing of the burden you all now feel.”

Everyone’s looking at him the same way I feel. They had this planned from the beginning. Waiting for when we were put down so they could step in with their restructuring. Pitching an idea that, frankly, suggests retirement. It sounds that Michael does agree with those who say Thomas Shelby is an old force.

Michael looks around the room. “Tommy, you can do the good work you always wanted to do. Mum, you can get married and live in that big house. Arthur, you can be the man Linda wants you to be.”

Arthur isn’t bought. “Fuck Linda.”

Michael keeps going and walks over to us. “Finn, you’ve proven yourself. You’re part of the new generation. You could come to New York with me.”

Finn shifts his glance to me and I slowly shake my head. Michael catches on and decides to focus on me.

“You too, Verena. Don’t you miss your own family? Tired of having to come back here?”

He is not going to string me into this. Everyone here knows of my loyalty to this company and I am not going to let an arrogant wannabe narcotics salesman influence me.

My stare stays cold and still. “No. I decide for myself.”

While we stay in silence, Gina, with her eyes still locked on Thomas, lazily hands Michael a black folder. He takes it and throws it on the table in front of them.

“Here is my proposal. A full restructuring of the company. I will be managing director… You can be non-executive chairman. But under an assumed name to protect your reputation. You will be registered as Mr. Jones. You will each receive a share of the profits. None of you will have to engage in the associated activities.” 

My jaw drops. That slimy git! First he insults us by bringing up restructuring. Now he pulls out an entire plan that erases the Shelby name altogether!

He picks up the file again and holds it out to Thomas. “Take a look at the future, Tommy.”

Thomas eyes the folder and takes it. “It’s cold in here, Michael.”

He turns away and throws the folder straight into the fireplace, causing it to go up in flames. Johnny starts laughing and I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God!

Michael starts objecting. “The Americans want to deal with me-!”

“Tell him the truth,” Gina interrupts cockily. “Go on. He can take it.”

Michael goes silent and looks to the floor. Oh, so now he’s hesitant to speak?

“Tell me the truth, Michael,” Thomas taunts him.

He slowly looks up. “The Americans don’t want to deal with an old-fashioned backstreet razor gang. Those days are done.”

Thud!

Suddenly Liam and a few more men barge in and start ranting about an escaped man. Arthur and the others rush out to help, leaving Michael, Gina, Polly, and me. Alright, where did this mess about Americans refusing business come from? The people I talk to are happy for a partnership! The depression is causing everyone to sink and no one is going to care who runs the show as long as they get their money.

“I’m doing this for you, Tommy,” Michael quips as Thomas leans against the fireplace. “It’s time. And you know it. Mum’s leaving, John’s dead, Arthur needs help, Verena just got stabbed, Ada’s man was killed in your own backyard because you fucked up-”

Thomas pulls a glass from a table and throws it into the fire. Raging, he spins around and faces the knife Michael’s holding. Oh God. Gina freezes in her chair and I jump up to grab my gun.

Rr-raw-raw-ruh! Dílis lets out a fierce growl and bares his teeth at Michael.

“Go on, Tom,” he jibes. “Cut me. Like the good old days. Or, see this for what it really is.”

Thomas smacks his lips and squints at him. “I gave you an opportunity, Michael. You betrayed me. Don’t be here when I get back.” He points at Gina. “You. You tell your family-”

“Let me guess,” she drones, staring at the ceiling. “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.”

“Damn straight,” I bark, still holding my pistol.

Gina scoffs. “Shut the fuck up. You have no right to say anything-”

Thump!

Thomas pounds a fist on the table. “Verena is far more of a member of this family than you will ever be.”

Gina tilts her head at him. “If you love her so much why don’t you knock her up too?”

Thomas stiffens and balls his hands into fists, glaring at her like he’s about to strangle her. That was too far. For both of us. Even if Thomas does somehow love me he would never do something that sinful to me. Gina has rendered him furiously speechless.

I step closer and speak for both of us. “Shut the Hell up before I do something regretful.”

Gina raises an eyebrow. “Like what? Like selling your whole soul to this company? Losing one of your own siblings to this-?”

“Like putting a bullet through your fucking head,” I snarl, feeling my own blood boil. “Dílis. Fass!”

The canine bounds forward and snaps at her and Michael. Polly’s startled but doesn’t tell me to stop him. Dílis tears a shred of Gina’s skirt and backs Michael into a chair.

“Ah! Get off me, bloody Hellhound!” He shrieks and snivels.

“Halt.”

The dog stops attacking but still growls at the shaken man. He trots back to me as I readjust my coat and begin walking out.

“Thank you, Dílis. Braver hund. Braver hund.”

“Verena!” Thomas calls after me when he walks through the door. “Are you alright-?”

“Not the first time I’ve dealt with a bully,” I assure him with a nod. “No hard feelings.”

He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Go back to the house. You’ll be safe there. We’ll fill you in later.”

In the distance I see Liam’s blonde hair stand out in the group of men leading away from the Garrison. “Will Liam be safe?”

Thomas nods. “You both will be safe. I’m not letting him get involved in anything he doesn’t want to.”

That does not mean Liam won’t jump at the chance for it. I know my broer. If there’s any danger around he will be drawn to it. But I cannot control his decisions, same as how he has stayed silent about mine.

Tonight brings pouring rain. Even the sky is unsettled now. I wait until dark and phone Polly to ask if she’s available for dinner.

“I’m afraid I can’t, Verena. My head’s too full to think. I’m going to take a warm bath and try to forget today’s rivalry.”

She’s being pulled from both sides. Both as a moeder and as a member of this company. Anyone can see that Michael is trying to cut us out and she can only allow so much leeway.

“Polly-” 

“I’m through with it. I am not going to watch them kill each other.” The phone shuffles around and she says: “You’re still ignoring my palm reading. Ada told me you’re leaving.”

I groan and hang my head. “I’m sorry, Polly. But I’m not going to let that choose for me. You heard what Mosley is planning on. How can you stand by and watch that happen?”

“Because I trust Tommy. You do too.”

“Not as deep as you may think,” I stress. “How do we know if whatever idea he has is going to work-?” I spot Dílis watching me next to the parlor table, wagging his tail and threatening to knock off a hand mirror. “Um- I gotta go, Polly! See you later!”

Click.

I hurry across the room just as the dog’s tail sends the mirror crashing to the ground, shattering it over the carpet

“Dílis- no! Nein!” I groan and collapse onto the sofa. Dílis lets out a whine and jumps up next to me, oblivious to the mess. “Perfect. A broken mirror. It will mean bad luck, I’m sure of it.”

“Forget about it.” Dílis and I look up to see Thomas step in from the back door. “I hope you don’t mind some company for dinner.”

“Not at all,” I answer and look back at the floor. “Don’t you believe that mirrors can trap souls? I’ve been told that some people cover their mirrors at night because they act as passageways for spirits. Or could you not fight your ego and not look at yourself for that long?”

Thomas strides over with a cloth and begins clearing away the shards. “I never took you for a woman to believe in those kinds of spirits.”

I smirk. “Says the Gypsy man who uses superstition instead of religion. I haven’t seen a spirit but that doesn't mean they don’t exist.”

We both clean up the mess and end up eating leftover stew. Dílis seats himself under the table and the house goes quiet. The only noise is the splattering of rain on the windows. Thomas and I are thinking the same thing. We don’t want to talk. He needs a quiet meal with someone around who he knows isn’t going to deceive him. 

“I’m assuming there’s a plan?” I ask out of the blue.

Thomas finishes his food and scratches Dílis’ ears. “Yes. The final preparations are being made. Tomorrow we will win, if our prayers are answered.”

He talks of praying now. Did he add that to sound hopeful or as a last resort?

“Would you sell your privilege of prayer?” I ponder. “Do you only pray when you need to extract something from God?”

The tired gangster leans over the table. “Well… As you said, I’m a Gypsy man who uses superstition instead of religion. You keep trying to save me but I’ve already seen things that tell me I’m cursed to keep going. My privilege of prayer is not something I use often, but no. I would not sell it. Between you and Polly I’ve noticed that something of a grand magnitude like that should be kept.” He pushes his chair in and grabs his hat.

I watch him walk slowly to the door. “You did learn something after all. Maybe my time here has not been a complete waste.”

Thomas turns around one last time. “You can’t save me. But you can save yourself from this place. I’ll miss you when you’re gone, love.”

‘I’ll miss you.’ He finally admits it. If only he wouldn’t have dug himself so deep into politics.

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 66: Prove To Me

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

“Give our best to your parents,” Anna says and gives me a final hug before I board the train. “Your neefs are going to miss you.”

It’s time to leave. As much as I would love to stay longer there is lots more calling me back west. Thomas and I meet with Uncle Colon in three days. The Müller contracts need to, nay, will be approved by Thomas. I also need to see what he already knows about the Nazi movement. If it’s spreading this fast here then surely it’s going to become more than just a rumor in Britain.  

“Please stay safe,” Franz bids as he hands me my luggage. “Trouble’s brewing everywhere nowadays.”

We all exchange uneasy glances, partially due to the swastika flag hanging overhead, and Abel steps forward for his own hug.

“You’re going to visit Uncle Colon?”

“Yes. I pray that he will have some answers to Mr. Shelby’s problems. As well as my own.”

My soft-eyed broer nods and offers a hopeful smile. “Our prayers are with you. Tot ziens.”

“Tot ziens, Abel. I guess the next time I might see you all is for Christmas.” I give a small tug on the lead and test out my hond’s new name. “Komm, Dílis.”

The German Shepherd climbs the steps onto the train car and we find a cabin. Dílis hops up on the seat next to me and lays his head on my lap. After a few minutes the train rocks forward and begins chugging away. So here I go. Instead of finding a man in my travels I acquire a German Shepherd. How fitting. Out the window I see Abel and the others on the platform waving at me. 

Arf! The canine whines as he looks out at more Jewish immigrants waiting for their trains.

“You said it,” I murmur, my heart clenching at the sight.

Somehow the trip back seems to fly much faster. Before I board the boat in Amsterdam I make a quick call to arrange for a car to get me once I reach England. The secretary is a different one than last time but she too remembers not to mess with me.

I recognize Nathaniel on another ship once my boat docks in Port of Hull. He steps off and joins me once Dílis and I depart our own barge.

“I see you found a friend," he observes with a smile.

“This is Dílis. Gib Pfötchen.”

The dog’s ears perk up. He remembers what I taught him on the way over and proves it by raising a paw for Nathaniel to shake.

“Well, hello!” Nathaniel returns the gesture. “So did you find what you were looking for?” He wonders as we walk towards the dock entrance.

“I got what I came for. My broer and his family are now partners with Mr. Shelby.”

Nathaniel runs a hand through his thin beard. “That’s very kind of you to do that. But it sounds more like a professional goal rather than the personal one I pegged you for.”

Am I really that pathetic? “However my life is to proceed, God will lead me there. Right now I need to work towards earning money for my familie.” I change the tide of the topic. “What about you?”

The sailor tilts his head in thought. “My family’s doing their part. I guess my job is to keep transporting people. Between the depression and the conditions in Germany, more and more people are moving these days.”

“I agree. In fact you might see my broer and his familie pass by too.”

“I’ll keep a weathered eye out,” Nathaniel promises as a black Bentley cruises towards us. “Just remember your family always has a friend at Port of Hull.”

“I am most grateful,” I thank him as I slide in and Dílis jumps up next to me. “Tot ziens, Nathaniel.”

The car drives off and I’m presented with the familiar English countryside. A freezing countryside. It’s no warmer here than Germany. Throughout the whole day I’m driven across the country, watching the many towns and villages blink by. When we drive past places more affected with poverty there’s no denying the strange looks being given to my pristine transport. I’m sure there will come a point when this depression will turn almost any honest man into a desperate one.

“Here we are, Ms. Steenstra,” the driver says as he pulls up to where I assume is the Port of Liverpool. “Mr. Shelby instructed me to bring you here and tell you that he will be waiting for you.”

Of course he will. “Thank you, sir. Komm, Dílis.”

The pup jumps out of the car and we begin to make our way to the docks. After a few minutes of walking I spot the man I’m searching for. Compared to the rest of the sailors and pedestrians here Thomas’ tailored suit sticks out like a sore thumb; though then again my fur coat isn’t too ordinary either. 

He locks eyes with me and stands up from the bench he’s sitting on. I can’t tell- Is he perturbed? Upset? Anxious? The one thing that is clear is his confusion towards the dog perched by my side.

“What is that?” Thomas asks bluntly.

I gesture to the panting canine, who’s already trying to smell him. “This is Dílis, my new companion.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow. “Dílis?”

“It’s Celtic for ‘loyal.’”

This gets a shadow of a smirk on Thomas’ face. “An Irish name for a German dog?”

I shrug. “I’m American. It’s sort of our thing.”

The gangster takes another skeptical look at him. “He’s just a pup.”

“He’ll grow,” I assure sternly. “Dílis, gib pfötchen.”

Dílis stands up and repeats the trick from earlier. What’s different now is that he’s still smelling Thomas, as if trying to uncover what kind of a person he's just met. Meanwhile Thomas is very accepting of this greeting and gives the dog a gloved handshake.

“Hello hello, Dílis.”

I smile proudly. “You have your horses, I have my hond.”

“Indeed. He likes you.”

Dílis licks his glove. “He likes you, too.”

“Yeah. But you’re his master. The one giving the orders. He’s a fighter. He would tear a bloke to pieces for you.” Thomas and I begin walking to the ship bound for Ireland. “I should tell you there’s a new cause for celebration. I’ve arranged for Aberama and Polly to be married. But don’t tell her. She doesn’t know.”

Of course not. Why change anything now? A fleeting thought of relief sparks through me and I close my eyes. “That’s good. We need some good in the world right now. A wedding sounds like a perfect way to share it.”

Another wedding. More talk of love. Another ceremony for me to be cast out of because I can never truly be one of them. Deep breath. Remember who you are here for.

“I have the Müller contracts to submit to you. We can talk about that later. We have lots to discuss from my trip.” A pinch of guilt tugs at my stomach. “Also…”

“No. Don’t tell me,” Thomas grunts and we stop next to the ticket booth. “You want your pay, yeah? ‘Cause that’s all I am to you now. Another paycheck.”

I keep my tone cool. “You should be used to that by now. I wish that wasn’t true. If you had gone through what I have, can you blame me?”

He doesn’t answer. He stays silent and plunges a hand into his pocket, pulling out his glasses. He fishes out his cheque book and after a few waves of a pen hands me the slip. 

“Here. Take the bloody money.”

Another thousand pounds. “My familie appreciates it,” I acknowledge gratefully and stow it in my purse. “What did you expect?”

He finishes buying our tickets and scoffs. “‘Hello, Thomas.’ ‘Good to see you.’”

“What’s the good of small talk when you’ll just ignore me again? The contract says I am still an employee so I am here on behalf of my familie to earn some extra wages.”

If he thinks I’m here out of the goodness of my heart he’s dead wrong. It kills me to do this to him but he can’t play the innocent card with me. I’m not the same naïve, helpless meisje who wound up in your kitchen all those years ago. In fact, you could say that you helped shape me into who I am now, Thomas Shelby. Now instead of sporadically handing out kindness, I reserve it and look out for my familie first. Much like yourself.

Four hours later we’re both standing at the edge of the barge, staring out at the approaching country. It doesn’t look to have changed much since the last time I visited. Dílis is already enjoying the fresh air.

“How might I address your uncle?” Thomas mutters after lighting a cigarette.

I pull my coat tighter around me. “His name is Edmund Colon. Mr. Colon will suffice.”

“And this Mr. Colon… He ain’t gonna fuck with my head, is he?”

“Absolutely not. If he dislikes you he will not hesitate to tell you.”

Thomas takes a puff and shows no definite reaction to this answer. “Good to know.”

“Relax. If I’m around he won’t do anything drastic.”

He hums and keeps looking outward. “Have you been in touch with Linda?”

Now it’s my turn to scoff. “You know me better. You know I don’t stay in touch with her or Lizzie.” 

He smirks. “I thought you said you tend to avoid jealousy. ‘Causes viciousness,’ as you’ve said.”

“‘S not just that,” I admit. “They don’t want me to talk, so I won’t.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead he takes another puff of smoke and straightens his cap. “I’m afraid there’s more news. While you were constructing business in Germany, we had a visit from a mister Brilliant Chang. We’re now helping to transport opium.”

Drugs? He’s shipping drugs now? How can he agree to that after the mess that drug gave to his body? Well, he most certainly isn’t going to convince me to sell it.

“I see” is all I answer with.

Thomas grunts. “I must say it was unfortunate that you were not here to negotiate. Chang brought a whore who put a gun to Finn’s head.”

His tone sounds as one does when talking about the weather. First Finn gets himself shot and now this? It’s like Polly said when I first started. They forget he’s still so young. Even Finn is forgetting how stupid he can be.

“It was Finn who allowed such a woman to get so close,” I reply softly, reaching down to scratch Dílis’ ears.

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Thomas sighs. “There’s more.” 

My head whips up at him. “More?”

“Yes. We’ve been in contact with a gang called the Billy Boys.” Thomas licks his lips and continues. “They’re the ones who killed Bonnie Gold. Billy Boys fucking tied him to a cross and shot him.”

Bang! The memory of a gunshot rings through my head and the image of Bonnie’s corpse takes form. My body goes stiff and my cold hands grip the railing.

“Jesus Christ… " I murmur with dread. "Have they no morals? Is this all just to get to you? Thomas…”

His icy blue eyes creep over to mine, analyzing me. “You think I don’t feel guilt?”

“I’m saying… When will enough be enough for you?” I gasp. “Your company, your empire, has grown most impressively despite the losses in America. History shows that every civilization eventually experiences its downfall. You need to know when enough is enough!” 

Thomas’ jaw tightens and he takes a step back, pointing a finger at me. “I had you bring me here to discuss matters with your uncle so that I might handle them. Not to hear about how everything I do is wrong.”

My face stays straight and my stare hardens. “I never said that. And believe me, Edmund Colon will say these exact same words when he hears of what you’re going through.” 

The ship docks and I immediately lead Dílis off. Lord, I am already losing patience. Just pay attention and get Thomas to the meeting. Settle things out and then I can get back to work.

Thomas hails a cab and when I ask for Uncle Colon’s address the driver gives me a double-take. Even here it’s not a normal request to be driven to a gangster’s home. But he agrees and in no less than twenty minutes we’re riding through misty green meadows and over frozen streams. Thomas and I stay quiet the whole time and the only noise comes from Dílis’ small whines. Soon the car approaches Uncle Colon’s road and the sight of the cozy stone home makes me relax by a fraction. With its trimmed fence and many bushes. Even the guards don’t bother me. The handful of men standing watch outside recognize me and give friendly waves as I step out of the car.

Thomas, however, is not eased at all about their company. He keeps fingering his cap and running his hand over his jacket where his gun is most likely concealed. I snap him out of it by taking his hand and leading him and Dílis around to the barn. We step inside out of the mist and I hear metal clanking in the distance. I poke my head around a corner and spot Uncle Colon hunched over a beaten up Ford truck. His rolled up sleeves allow for a view of the Celtic cross tattooed to his wrist, just like my necklace. His worn work clothes are a steep difference compared to Thomas' overdressed appearance.

Arf!

At the sound of Dílis’ noise my uncle looks over his shoulder and gets a wide grin.

“Ah, Verena! How’s the cutting?” Uncle Colon greets as he wrings his hands on a grease towel.

“As good as it can when the world’s this dark,” I smile and we both hug. “Good to see you, Uncle Colon!”

Dílis doesn’t hesitate to begin smelling his shoes. “Who is this handsome beast?”

“This is Dílis,” I introduce.

Uncle Colon gets a wise gleam in his eye. “Ah, wise choice. He does look very loyal.” He gets the towel down and reaches for a glass of water. “Have you heard any word from Alfie?”

My smile fades. “I’m afraid Mr. Solomons has been dead for some time now, Uncle Colon.”

The older man’s eyes soften. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It appears our estranged relationship will go on unmended.” His eyes travel past me and his gaze sharpens. “I see you brought someone. This is your boss, then?”

I step aside and gesture to my colleague. “This is Thomas-”

“Thomas Shelby, of Shelby Company Limited,” Uncle Colon asserts, staring him square on. “Anyone who’s anyone here knows about you.”

Thomas stays quiet the whole time, not showing too much gruffness but not exactly appearing overly friendly either. He never moves his eyes away from my uncle.

“He’s the one who’s requested an audience with you,” I remind him.

Uncle Colon nods, staring at Thomas, and goes to pull a tarp over his project. “Alright, then. This banjaxed car can wait a moment or two. Go on in, Verena. Help yourself to a drink.”

Don’t mind if I do. I nudge Dílis forward and walk back out into the damp pasture towards the house’s warm glow. My end of today’s job is done. It’s up to Thomas now to strike an understanding with my own familie.

General POV

The rugged Irishman leads Thomas into another room in the barn. This one appears less dirty and more for business purposes. How can Thomas tell? Because of the waiting cases of empty whiskey bottles. Somewhere in here is Edmund Colon’s own small distillery. Thomas should respect it as if it were his own.

So this is the man who’s always stood behind Verena. The connection to the White Hand. At a glance Thomas thinks he could pass for any other Irishman. A few inches taller than he is, calculating hazel eyes, and a worn face with a faint beard matching the salt and pepper hair tucked under his flat cap. No dapper suit or accessories. His clothing consists of simple muck boots, work trousers, suspenders, undershirt and coat. One could say he appears as a wise friend.

This Mr. Colon is part of Verena’s family, there’s no doubt about it. She shares his bluntness and sense of tradition. If only Thomas wasn’t equally blunt when he paid her. His words are coming back to haunt him. Now he’s whoring away his shame to her while she earns the paycheck.

“Four years ago you got a taste of American cars,” Colon gloats as he pours them each a drink. “Did you enjoy our gift?”

“Yes. The Hudson still works splendidly. It’s one of my brother’s favorites.” They each take a seat on some barrels and Thomas looks up again. “Mr. Solomons is alive and well, Mr. Colon. Verena doesn’t know.”

Colon takes a deep breath and swirls the whiskey in his cup. “Sometimes a dead man is a free man in this world. Give him my regards, if you wouldn’t mind.” He gets a distant look and states: “I love my country, Mr. Shelby. Ireland is a true beauty. But you English always look at us the wrong way.” His hazel eyes flash up to inspect Thomas. “You Peaky Blinders certainly have made a name for yourselves.”

“If you know who we are-” The Brummie gangster starts to explain.

“Mr. Shelby, I don’t care if you’re Gypsy, Catholic, or Jewish. The only reason you’re still breathing is because my informants keep me updated on one of your employees.” Colon points in the direction he just sent Verena and then points to himself. “My niece. Right out there. She trusts you. That got me thinking. You are not members of the Crown, nor am I a member of the IRA. We are simply two men trying to do business for the good of our families. So let us have it remain that way.”

Thomas replays his words and it clicks that now he’s getting somewhere. Just like Verena, any of Colon’s decisions are going to be based on family. 

“My cousin informed me of some men passing through Belfast,” Thomas expresses, taking a drink of the familiar whiskey. “Those one’s called Billy Boys.”

Colon lightly pounds the wall. “Them damn Billy Boys. Thinking they can walk through my streets all high and grand. What trouble did they give you, eh?”

“They’re trying to snuff us out.”

The Irishman lets out a laugh and raises his glass. “Join the club. How’s about we make a deal? I keep away any more mishaps from affecting your trade routes through Belfast, and you kill Jimmy McCavern.”

This man works fast. Thomas can already tell he’s read his character but the question is why is Colon already so accepting? Is it because of Verena’s trust in him?

“That isn’t a fair trade, Mr. Colon. We both want him dead.”

“Aye. But it gives you better motivation. You deal with him and it will prove to me if I should help you. Prove to me that the Shelbys are all they're made out to be.” Colon polishes off the rest of his liquor. “Oh, a fair warning. We do not control the Titanic folk, Mr. Shelby. We keep to ourselves. If they cause trouble it will not be the White Hand’s problem.”

“Very well.”

Thomas takes that as his que of dismissal and stands up, dusting off his jacket. He nearly reaches the end of the room when Mr. Colon speaks again.

“One final thought, Mr. Shelby.” Thomas hears his boots creak closer and closer until Colon puts a firm hand on his shoulder. “You know, when I married my dear Eleanor I thought the guns and fights would leave us alone. But you can’t have both, Thomas Shelby. One or the other, they cannot coexist. From what I’ve been told you found this out the hard way. Your first wife-”

Thomas flinches. “Do not bring my late wife into this.”

“The Hell I will,” Colon growls. “You’re a chaser. This is the life you made for yourself, Shelby. Do not drag my niece into it too. No bullet will be carved with her name.”

The Brummie swallows. “Verena chose to-”

“Malarkey! First you make her think she owes you. Then she falls in love with you.” Colon holds up his wrist with the tattoo. “I am a religious man, Mr. Shelby. But if you break her heart… Another dead man is no skin off my nose. Have I made myself clear?”

His other hand reaches for a pistol under his jacket, never breaking eye contact, and Thomas knows exactly what he’s thinking. It’s the same process he goes through when scum politicians and aristocrats turn their noses up at his own family. He never wanted to cause Verena pain. It just… fell out of place. But there is no denying now that he will do what it takes to support her family. 

Thomas holds out a hand and the two men shake. “Very.”

Verena’s POV

It’s sad to see how the house has gotten so cluttered. Instead of a mobster’s home it looks like a hunting cabin. I remember when I was younger it was always spotless, with fresh flowers placed around during springtime. Aunt Eleanor’s touch has since been fading away. Part of this reminds me of Vinegar Hill back home. More Celtic crosses, a faded Bible placed on the mantel, and some of vader’s gifted delft pottery. 

Dílis has taken the liberty to lay in front of the warm fireplace. I set down my glass and look up at the ticking grandfather clock. It’s been an hour. How long are they going to talk? Is Thomas really so stubborn to ignore what offer Uncle Colon might have? If he knows anything about the men who killed Bonnie then he should not hesitate. 

I think back to Michael’s words. This is by far the time to not hesitate. Now is the time for action, to show that Thomas is no spent force. Franz was right. Trouble is brewing and I am not going to let myself be caught in it.

Creak.

The back door swings open and Uncle Colon steps in, stomping the mud off his boots. 

“I left your boss outside to wait.” He points to where he just came from. “Verena. That man. He is just as I’ve been told. Stubborn, scheming, arrogant. Yet you still give yourself to him.”

My jaw drops. “I do not-”

“I’m not talking about virginity. I’m talking about time. For over ten years you’ve served this man. And for what?” He taps the side of his head. “That’s the question you need to answer, Verena.”

If I didn’t know better I’d say his lecture is tinged with pity. Lord knows I’m one of the oddballs in my familie as far as courtship goes but I think I’ve done enough mental bashing to myself by now. Of all people I’d hoped Uncle Colon might understand my position.

“I know.”

My uncle takes my hand as if to say he means no harm. “You’re a wise lass. I know you will do as God guides you. But make sure you remember to value your time, Verena. As your Aunt Eleanor would say, time’s as precious as endless fortunes of gold.”

I respond with a bittersweet smile. “Yes. I understand.”

“Good. ‘S been good to see you, lass.” He smiles down at my dog, who’s now up and alert. “You take care of her now, Dílis. Eh?” 

He leans in for a hug goodbye and I lead Dílis back to the door. Thomas is already waiting in the car. 

“Visit your crazy uncle more often, eh? Slán.”

His Irish phrase brings a smile to my face and I wave goodbye before climbing into the car next to Thomas and Dílis.

“Tot ziens, Uncle Colon. Thanks a million.”

The driver revs the engine and begins driving down the muddy road. As the cottage gets further and further behind us Thomas makes no move to speak. Did Uncle Colon have news for him? Did they accomplish anything?

“What did you think of my uncle?” I outright ask in a laid-back tone. “He’s nice, isn’t he?”

“That’s one way to put it.” Thomas pauses, still staring ahead. “You’ve said family is everything to you… Never thought it was this deep.”

“What do you think I first thought when I first saw how your familie runs itself?”

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 62: Don't Count On my Sympathy

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Surely Ada is exaggerating Thomas’ reaction to my coldness. If he’s survived this long on the love of whores and Lizzie then there is no reason for him to act so hurt. 

I’m really doing this. Driving to the home of the man who broke my life. Arrow House is straight ahead, pale against the dim gray morning light. Even after all these years they still kept my Bentley in good shape. Another reminder of Thomas’ financial perks.

In no more than ten seconds after I park there’s a familiar sound of scampering footsteps.

“Hello, Charlie!” I smile as the young Shelby runs up the hill.

“Venna!” His face lights up and he tackles my legs for a hug. “You’re back!”

“Yes I am, dierbaar jongen. My my, you have grown so much!”

He giggles when I try to ruffle his hair and continues running to the house. “I’ve got violin practice now.”

“Oh! I won’t keep you, then. Go on!”

In one hand I grip the briefcase Ada sent with me. The very reason why I’m forced to be here. With my other hand I feel the comforting cross around my neck again. Lord, please give me patience-

What’s that?

Something white in an empty muddy field catches my eye. It’s very faint. Is that a person…? It’s a cross. Off in the distance, a giant wooden cross stands a single cross with familiar clothes. Thomas’ clothes. And the man himself is standing across from it. What is that? Is it supposed to be a mockery of faith? How dare-!?

Bang! Bang! Bang! Thomas lifts up a gun and blasts the clothes to shreds, causing sparks to scatter. What the Hell?! I drop the briefcase and break into a sprint. What the Hell is happening?! I nearly stumble and trip down the hill and by the time I reach the fence my dress is splattered in mud. Is he trying to kill himself-?!

Ka-boom!

A giant explosion rips a crater open in the field, sending dirt and rock flying everywhere. A blast of fire clouds over Thomas and I give a loud shriek. My stomach drops. He really was trying to die…

And he still lives. The cloud of ash lifts and Thomas walks back across the field, covered in mud. I nearly scream again. How can he look so- so… calm?! How far has his mind spiraled since I’ve been gone?

“What the Hell was that?!” I yell at the top of my lungs, my eyes nearly bulging out.

Across the dirty field, Thomas spots me as he walks closer and immediately panics.

“Verena? Fuck! Why are you-?”

“I come here to get your signature and this is what you’re doing?!" I screech and stand my ground. "What the Hell happened?!”

Thomas walks through the gate and looks me up and down with wild eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know! Just please-” He desperately grips my shoulders. “Please stay off this place. Now… What do you need signed? Wait, wait. I’ve got a call to respond to.”

He takes off towards the house, leaving me speechless and confused as to what to think of this. Did he rig that cross to explode? Was it a trap? A warning? I swear if there’s another bloody vendetta I’m going to punch him clean in the face! Reluctantly, I follow Thomas’ muddy footprints and retrieve the briefcase before going inside.

Grrrr.

A brown mutt walks out from the dining room, alerted to my presence. I calmly let him smell my hand. He doesn’t look too harmless. Since when did Thomas get a dog-?

“That’s Cyril,” Charlie beams from another doorway.

“He’s very charming,” I smile as the mutt wanders to the small boy. “You must be done with your lesson. Aunt Ada also told me you speak Rokka, Charlie?”

He nods. “Bits and pieces. Do you still speak Dutch?”

“Yes, I’m learning. You should be very proud of yourself for holding onto your heritage.”

Another set of footsteps echo down the stairs and I look up to see a little girl with dark hair. When she sees me she freezes and watches me as if I just threatened to shoot Cyril. She's Lizzie’s daughter, for sure. She has her eyes. And her look of judgement.

“And you must be Ruby!” I kneel down and offer a friendly wave.

“Hello,” Ruby says shyly. “What’s your name?”

“This is Veena,” Charlie introduces me. “She’s fun.”

Someone else steps down and now Lizzie herself joins us, wearing a very fancy fur stole. A vast contrast to my filthy dress and simple hair braids. She puts a protective hand on Ruby and looks down at me with the same lowly expression from four years ago. I should have been more prepared to feel her smug victory over me.

“Hello, Ms. Steenstra.”

I show no sign of friendly acknowledgement. “Mrs. Shelby.” 

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Why are you here?”

“Straight to the point, I see,” I quip and hold up the briefcase. “I’m here because Mr. Shelby has some papers to sign, ASAP.”

“What about me?” Charlie whines.

“And I’m here for you too, Charlie,” I assure him with a wink, then turn back to Lizzie with another cold glare. “I am not staying in England for long. Mr. Shelby is currently in the middle of a call but as soon as he is finished I will swiftly accomplish my ordeal with him.”

Lizzie, not amused by my agenda to conduct my visit as quickly as possible, leads Ruby back upstairs. At least Grace eventually let me interact with Charlie. I probably won’t ever be able to talk to Ruby again.

Charlie interrupts my thoughts by skipping over to wait by his vader’s office door. “I’m going to show him what I learned today!”

He proudly holds up the violin he’s holding and I almost chuckle to think of Thomas subjecting his kids to musical practice. Intriguing. Would Thomas ever learn to play music himself?

I lean my head to the door, hearing the phone being set down. Good. Time to get things over with.

Knock knock.

“Come!” Thomas’ voice booms through the door.

I enter slowly, deeply trying to forget about the last time I was in this room, and spot Thomas leaning against his desk. He looks like the walking dead. Lasting remains of mud still stain his white shirt. However, Charlie ignores his vader's troubled state and goes to stand at the center of the room.

“He has something to show you,” I tell Thomas. “Then you-”

“I know, I’ll sign.”

Charlie grips his violin and smiles. “I learned something today!”

Thomas, as usual, holds a whiskey. “So did I. And what have you learned, my boy?”

Charlie brings the bow to the instrument. A screech of strings pinches my ears and I do my best to not cringe. The young boy carries out the thankfully quick Hellish melody and Thomas sits blankly across from him. Perhaps the terrors conspiring inside Thomas’ head are horrendous enough to drown out any outside noise.

“Good start, Charlie,” I praise after Thomas fails to speak. “Why don’t you go get yourself ready for supper, eh?”

He nods eagerly and scampers off. I set down my briefcase and wave a hand in front of Thomas’ eerily quiet face.

“Here are the papers.”

Thomas blinks at me and seems to remember where he is. He slowly stands up and goes to grab a pen from his desk. Time to fire the next shot.

“I am also here for my next payment.”

A quick flash of anger colors Thomas’ eyes but it’s replaced by another blank stare. “‘S that why you came back?”

“For the sake of my familie, yes.”

“Are you sure?”

My eyes narrow and my jaw tightens. If he thinks he can guilt-talk me out of this he is dead wrong. I came for my familie and nothing else.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I respond firmly and reroute the subject. “I also heard about what happened to Finn. Please tell me you’re going to talk to him. He’s not the same man from two years ago. He’s becoming just like you. Drinking, chatting up girls, going in guns a-blazing. It’s-!”

“I will,” Thomas says evenly as he signs the documents. “Arthur and I are going to sit him down tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” The shadow of a smirk crosses my mouth. “How did your chat with Mr. Dixon go?”

Thomas takes another drink. “Your country has some of the oddest people. Half the time he wanted to talk about guns and mixing moonshine instead of actual business. I left him to some associates in London. Did your dad really make him come with you?”

“When you’re a single woman traveling alone it’s considered proper to be escorted, according to my parents. Now that I am here I plan to do things my way.”

I hold out my hand expectantly. Thomas hands me the papers and I store them away in the briefcase. Next he passes me a handsome stack of bills. There. Done and done. Now I can tell Ada I talked to him, sort of, and don’t have to see him again-

“Another thing,” Thomas calls once I’m halfway across the room. “Have you been in contact with Michael?”

Despite the raging voice telling me to flee from him, I turn around to face Thomas once more with a lazy head shake. “No. I’ve stuck to the west side of Michigan and practically avoided him, honestly. He’s grown just as arrogant.”

“Yet you still agree to work for us,” Thomas points out as he lights another cigarette.

Stay calm, Steentstra. “Now that the depression is underway, what choice do I have? Anything I earn goes to my familie.”

“Hm. Well, do not trust Michael. That call just told me he was making deals to kill me.”

“Sweet Jesus-!” I gasp and stop myself short.

Nothing could prepare me for this! I’m supposed to distance myself from Thomas, not panic over another death threat! Calm the Hell down, Verena!

“Now don’t get your skirt in a bunch, love,” Thomas implores. “‘S for me to handle, eh? Did you ever notice any strange transactions from Ireland?”

I shake my head. “My uncle would have told me. If you doubt it then you can talk with him yourself.”

“Alright. I might.” Thomas gets a look that says he’s lost in thought again and waves me off. “Now go play with Charlie before he starts whining again. He missed you.”

I slip over to the door and offer one last remark, a sort-of peace offering. “Ruby’s a darling, too.”

“That she is,” Thomas murmurs and looks at me again. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

No no no! Get out, get out. Lizzie’s going to have my head just for him suggesting that! I’m supposed to get paid and leave-!

“I do not think I will be welcomed by all-”

“Lizzie and Ruby have been staying in the Midland Hotel,” Thomas explains and takes another puff on his cigarette. “‘S just me, Charlie, and Frances.”

So their marriage isn’t so peachy after all. Lizzie finally realized what she dug herself into. Say no. Say no! Thomas knows I want no part of his life anymore. Even though it is nice to see Charlie again…

“One hour.” I hold up a finger. “One hour, and then I’m gone.”

Before Thomas can react I slip through the door and back down the familiar hallway. A few maids give me quiet greetings but for the most part the house is empty. So this is the life you wanted, Thomas? It’s awfully lonely.

“Hello again, Charlie!” I announce when I spot the boy sitting at the long dining table.

His face scrunches with hopeful confusion. “Are you staying for supper?”

“For tonight, yes.”

I take a seat next to him and take a moment to observe the young Shelby. He’s definitely grown up. Instead of a boyish carefree smile Charlie has traded it for a rigid frown. Oh, Thomas. You’re turning your son into yourself. 

A deep whistling sound draws my attention to the window. Outside a strong wind blows fiercely across the pastures. Dark clouds churn overhead, drowning out the little sunlight that’s left of the day. The dark skeletons of the leafless trees sway and stand as ghostly figures left to the imagination.

“It looks really spooky outside,” I observe mysteriously, playing at Charlie’s remaining curiosity.

He shrugs. “That’s appropriate for this time of year.”

I try again. “Do you know about the Samhain celebration, Charlie?”

His eyes widen. “What’s that?”

Bingo!

“It’s a Celtic tradition celebrating the autumn harvest. It was last week on October 31, between the fall equinox and the winter solstice. I went to Belfast last year for the Samhain festival and it was incredible!”

In the corner of my eye I see Thomas appear. He silently makes his way to the end of the table and takes a seat. He's changed into clean clothes. As if on cue, a couple servants appear with trays of food. My first instinct is to stand up and help but then I remind myself I’m not in America anymore. Things are still done differently here.

“So you still celebrate Samhain even though you’re American?” Charlie asks after a few bites of pork.

“Yes. Samhain can be a very spiritual time for me. It’s believed to be a period when spirits can cross over and interact with the living.”

Thomas stops eating for a second. Does speaking with the dead intrigue him? Maybe reconciling with spirits is one way to deal with yourself. And I need to deal with myself before I start feeling sorry for him again.

“Thank you for having me,” I start off and stand up from the table. “But I’m afraid that I need to be going.”

“Really?” Charlie grumbles but doesn’t dare to complain more in front of his vader.

Thomas keeps quiet but watches me leave with noticeable emotionless eyes. One hour, Thomas. That’s all I will allow to make up for nearly four years of absence. After what I’ve seen today it’s not only my life that’s changed. Thomas, Lizzie, Charlie. They’re different. Even Ruby seems different than a normal girl. Not that I would expect any Shelby to be normal.

As I begin the drive back to Birmingham I can’t help but wonder if the Shelbys were right. Do I really have such an influence? That my presence helps in more ways than one? How have things become so gloomy in the past years? Well, now there is a depression to add to this and it will confuse my thoughts even harder.

@meadows5

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 68: Brewing Trouble

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

I lay in bed for nearly a week. Hired nurses stop in every so often to help bathe me despite my protest. No doubt there’s going to be an ugly scar. When I’m finally able to be mobile again I thank Thomas and drive back down to see Ada, who’s been calling nonstop to apologize for how we left things. I park my car just in time to see Finn walking out the door. At first he waves and shows a friendly smile when Dílis wanders up to him but loses his confidence when I approach.

“Finn. Thomas told me everything. "I give a quick head shake. " I am so disappointed.”

He recollects what I’m referring to and his eyes widen. “Verena-”

“You have become just like the rest. Cocaine, whiskey, whores. Have you forgotten all I taught you? Did every ounce of common sense drip out of your thick head?”

He swallows nervously. “I was only-”

“There are no excuses,” I state firmly. “I prepped you to be a decent, knowledgeable man who could have found a respectable lady. Now the only girls who will chase you will be after your Shelby benefits.”

Finn tries one more time. “Verena. Please.”

I shake my head with pity. “It truly does hurt me to see you turn into this. You are your own person but I hold the deed to the house on Watery Lane.” My eyes narrow. “That is still my house. I will not have you screwing girls in my house. Do I make myself clear?”

He nods shakily and swallows again. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sure you are. You are better than this, Finn. My lessons won’t do you any good now. Komm, Dílis.” 

I stride past the saddened Shelby and up to the house. Dílis wanders inside but stays close, smelling everything in sight. 

“Ada?” I call out.

Grrr. Dílis stands facing the parlor, where a tall man in a crisp suit walks out.

“Ah! You must be Verena. Ada told me to tell you that she had a meeting that’s running late but she’ll be here later.” 

My face sparks in an a-ha moment. “So then you must be Mr. Younger, Ada’s boyfriend.”

“Ben, please.” He holds out a hand and we shake. “Glad to meet you.”

“You as well!”  Dílis growls again and I pull on his collar. “Ruhig.” He stops and takes a seat on the rug. “Sorry about that. He’s been on edge since my incident.”

Ben waves it off. “Not to worry. I’m sorry to hear about your attack. From the looks of things I say your dog is very devoted to you.”

I smile and scratch the canine’s ears. “Yes, Dílis is a very dear friend.” A discarded chess board on the tea table catches my eye. “I see Karl captured you in a game of chess.”

Ben chuckles. “You could say that. He’s brilliant. Right now he went to get lunch. I just wish he’d talk to me.”

My face falls. “What did he do?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ben admits lightly. “He just prefers to remember his own father because he was white.”

My body stiffens. The thought of color hadn’t even occurred to me when I first saw him. First Finn loses his head, now Karl needs a telling off? Do I need to act as a punisher for all Shelby boys?

“He said that? Hold on,” I request tightly and begin marching down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Verena, it’s really not-” Ben tries to assure me.

“That was disrespectful of him. I am not afraid of a teenager.”

I push open the door and see the boy seated at the table. He looks over with a mouthful of his sandwich, almost surprised to see me like this.

“Karl. Did you really say those things to Mr. Younger?” He doesn't answer, which is all the proof I need. “Apologize.”

Karl swallows his food and crosses his arms. “Make me.”

Very well. I stomp over and grab a hold of his shirt. Smack! Moeder always says a smack on the head is a good wake-up call.

“Bloody Hell-!” Karl yells.

“Do not speak like that. Go to your room or you will feel some serious pain. Now!”

The boy jumps away and scrambles out of the room. There’s a commotion of him climbing the stairs and I hear his bedroom door shut. Poor Ada. She must be having trouble raising a teenager by herself.

“I didn’t take you for an advocate for discipline,” Ben speaks up when I walk back to the parlor.

“My parents are kind to my broers and I. But they did not hesitate to inflict corporal punishment when we misbehaved.” I take a seat next to Dílis. “I am so sorry about that, Ben. I would’ve thought that he would have known better.”

Over the next half hour we get to talking about odds and ends topics. Ben has many questions about America, specifically about our different foods. It amazes him how one country has so many different choices. After a while we hear the door open and Ada pokes her head in.

“Good. You’re here,” she cheers when she sees me. “And you met Ben?”

“Yes, and I’m afraid I have to get going,” Ben apologizes and reaches for his coat, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll see you next time.”

We both wait for him to leave and Ada sits down across from me, rubbing her head.

“You haven’t told Ben about the baby yet?” I ask after a few seconds.

She sighs. “Not yet. How are you doing?”

I point to my wound. “Healing as fast as I can.”

“By the way, thank you so much for being nice.”

My face scrunches in confusion. “Um. Thank you?”

Ada whips her head up and I swear she looks like she’s about to explode. “Gina is the most snippity American I have ever met. And you saw how appalled I was back in Boston! She tops all of them! Do you know what she told Polly?” She rolls her eyes. “Said she wants to take Michael and the baby back to Long Island. Polly too.”

That actually sounds like an improvement. Michael keeps out of Thomas’ hair and we never have to see them again. But I would miss Polly. This chick has guts if she thinks we’ll let them slip away again.

“Speaking of,” Ada continues. “Thomas has arranged for a ballet performance tomorrow night, for Lizzie’s birthday. I can’t make it.” She gestures to me. “You’re invited too, of course. Everyone will be there.”

I give her a strange look. “That sounds more like a warning.”

She glares at me with perturbed eyes and smacks her lips. “It is. ‘Everyone’ includes all of Tommy’s business associates.”

My face mirrors her dull enthusiasm. “Ah.”

So this birthday celebration is more of an enterprise gala. Poor Lizzie.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Ada was right. This party is crawling with stiffs in suits. Snobby, rich people who I have no intention of socializing with, and I’m sure they have no desire to socialize with me. Instead of buying a new dress I decided to dust off one of Ada’s old ones. Nothing as fancy as these folks but why should I waste money on a dress when it can be used for better purposes?

I catch sight of the crowded hallway and instantly reach for a champagne flute. Michael and Gina are here too. Um, why? If this is Polly’s idea of managing the high tension then she has the wrong idea. So far the only perks about this are the fancy spread, seeing the pretty ballerina costumes, and chatting with the maids. They’re not too thrilled either.

“Ruhig, Dílis,” I mutter and pull him closer. “It’s going to be a long night.”

There’s Thomas. He’s putting up with this high society act too. His eyes find mine and he weaves through the pristine suits and gowns to reach me.

“Glad to see you made it.” He eyes my glass. “And you already found a drink.”

I need no excuse for that. “Hello, Thomas. I hope you don’t mind that I’m a tad late.”

“No problem. We’re glad you could make it. There’s someone who’s been looking for you.”

Thomas points to someone behind me and I spin around to search. Is that-?

“Liam?” I gasp.

Liam is wearing a suit? It’s not even Sunday! 

“There she is,” he acknowledges and hugs me while I’m still speechless. “My sweet young zuster, whom I have been informed was stabbed a few days ago.”

Oh no. Here we go. The older brother rant about keeping me safe. As if being trapped in this party of snippety socialites isn’t punishment enough.

“Liam, not now-” I groan.

“No!” He points a warning finger at me and grabs Thomas’ jacket when he tries to walk away. “I am not going to allow anything else to happen to my zuster! My job is to protect you!”

“Oh, and you did such a good job doing that!” I sneer dramatically. “Where were you, then? I’ve been here, there, and everywhere, and you’ve never bothered to even say hallo! The only reason I knew you were around is because Thomas told me!”

Liam flashes an angry glare at Thomas. “I told you not to tell her!”

He stays cold and stern. “She deserves to know.”

“You stay out of this!” I warn, directing my narrowed eyes at him. “Don’t think I haven't spotted your own men tailing me too! Now, instead of bickering about past events like children, I am going to have fun tonight. Because this is a party.”

I start walking away and Liam starts to protest. “Zus-”

“Come on, Liam! Show off your American spirit!” I gasp dramatically and forcefully hand him a full glass.

He looks back and forth between me and the drink. “I-”

“Go. Now!” I point.

Both men glance at each other and shuffle back into the crowd, leaving me with Dílis. So Liam thinks that because I got stabbed that he has to play full bodyguard now? No. I don’t think so. We were taught to look out for each other but also how to handle our own. 

I allow Dílis to lead me outside to where some tables have been set. I’ve been here less than an hour and fresh air is already tempting. The canine lies down next to me and perks his head up.

Arf!

In the direction he’s looking I see a familiar-looking man with a mustache. That’s- That’s Mr. Gold. Bonnie’s father. My, he’s cleaned up. He’s trimmed his long hair and is wearing a clean tux instead of a trenchcoat. Polly will be so happy to see him! I really should talk to him.

“Mr. Gold,” I speak up and walk Dílis over. The man looks up and offers a smile when he recognizes me. “Mr. Gold, I am so sorry for your loss. Bonnie was a wonderful man. He was taken too soon. I know there is nothing I can do or say to bring him back. I can only offer words of sympathy.”

The man takes in my message and holds both hands out to grab mine. Dílis lets out a whine but doesn’t sense danger. Mr. Gold keeps his smile and watches me with a bittersweet gaze.

“Your visit is plenty, Ms. Steenstra.”

Now it’s my turn to smile. “My appearance will pale in comparison to the one coming later.”

There’s a noticeable spark in his eyes. “Ms. Gray?”

“Bingo.” I lean in and whisper: “I heard there is to be a wedding in the near future.”

Mr. Gold chuckles and eyes the doorway to the house. “I plan to propose tonight. I pray to God she says yes.” He pauses and looks back at me. “You and Bonnie would have been good for each other. But you knew you couldn’t love him like you do Tommy. Thank you for sparing his heart.”

A lesson I was taught very well. “Unlike Mr. Shelby I know not to ignite false hope. Enjoy the evening’s performance, Mr. Gold.”

“You as well, Verena.”

We both head inside and are thrown into the loud chattering. He walks off to find a seat and I look over to see Lizzie leaning against the wall with a deep scowl on her face. It can’t be because of anything I did because I just got here. Is she upset that Thomas invited me? No matter. I should be nice and wish her a happy birthday before I leave. It will prove that I am not allowing her to scare me away.

“Komm, Dílis.” 

We inch around the schmoozing guests. Lizzie, blending in well with her shimmering grey gown, notices us and stiffens. Does she think I’m going to sick my dog on her?

“Hello, Lizzie. Before you stab me with a cocktail stick I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

The dark-haired Shelby wife stares for a while, then takes a big sip of her drink. “Get me the fuck out of here.”

She’s asking me for help? “Pardon?”

Lizzie downs the rest of her champagne and nearly shatters the glass when she slams it on the table. “Conjure up some excuse and get me out of this fucking place.”

Grr. Dílis tenses up at her tone and glares up at her.

I shake my head. “I don’t understand-”

“My dear husband invited a man I used to know without telling me. That’s him there.”

She points to a man who appears to be flirting with one of the dancers. He looks just like any other vaunting bloke here. Mustache, suit, and a less-than-subtle sense of thinking he is worth more than everyone here. It doesn’t take much to guess how Lizzie was affiliated with him.

“That’s all he fucking does,” she drones about Thomas. “Has everyone listen to what I’m doing but I never hear a word from him.”

And she used to see this as something to gloat about? She was the one who always loathed me for wanting to be involved.

“Now you know how it feels to be left in the dark. I wish I could say it goes away, but then again I’m still here aren’t I?”

More silent seconds of staring. “I still don’t understand why.”

I look down and start leading Dílis away. “Neither do I. Perhaps we’re both at a loss.”

Behind me I feel Lizzie still watching me. “Your new dog will show more affection than he ever will.”

So we are at an impasse. Lizzie can no longer taunt me for losing. She got what she wanted and now she’s miserable. Maybe Thomas is not the caring man I pinned him for. Or he is still unhappy with himself. Whatever doubts he has should be no concern of mine.

“Hello, there.”

Fate must have a sense of humor. It’s Lizzie’s old flame.

“My name is Mosley. And you are?”

I offer no smile but still partake in a formal courtesy. “Ms. Steenstra, sir.”

Mr. Mosley tilts his head in response to my accent, looking down at me. “Another American. In a secondhand dress. What brings you to this gathering?”

Keep your temper down. “I am Mr. Shelby’s head of foreign affairs.”

My blood starts to boil as Mosley’s mouth curls into a smirk and I start to feel disgusted. “For the company or your own country? Do you represent what types of American goods spawn from there?”

He’s not talking about inadequate goods. He means flesh goods. That’s crossing a line. “Gib Laut.”

Ruff! Ra-raw-ra! Dílis lets out a low snarl, keeping Mosley at bay with a look of shock.

I pat the skirt of my dress. “I’ve got a gun. I am not afraid to use that gun.” I nod at Dílis. “I have a dog. I am not afraid to sick him on you. Especially if you keep looking at me like that. Step aside.”

I follow Dílis as he trots past Mosley with a snarl and before we’re out of earshot I distinctly hear:  “…Uncultured… rustic.” Yes, do think that, Mosley. The more you think of me as a lunatic American then the farther away you will stay. I do not need an aristocratic critique of me. As Nathaniel told me I’ve already made a sturdy name for myself, no money required.

In the background I see that Liam has finally gotten into the swing of the party. Here and there are a few familiar faces but for the most part I’m still being looked through by these affluent people. However there are two pairs of eyes that are watching me from behind that corner.

“Hello, Charlie!” I peek my head around and see the two kids crouched next to a table.

Charlie gasps. “Veena!”

I kneel down and wave. “Hello, Ruby. Remember me?”

"Yes." The young girl, looking to have grown some trust for me, keeps looking at Dílis. “You brought a dog!”

"Ruby, this is Dílis." The canine leans forward and licks the girl’s nose. “Are you both ready for Christmas?”

Both children nod eagerly. “Yeah!”

I notice they’re each in their nightclothes and give them a sneaky side glance. “Are you two hiding back here for a reason?”

Ruby’s face falls, thinking they’re in trouble. “Daddy says we’re not allowed to see the ladies dance. I wanted to see them dance.”

Oh, poor girl. I can understand why Thomas would keep them away from these people, but why crush a girl’s dreams of seeing a ballerina? These two should be allowed some holiday fun too. If the maids can watch then they should be able to as well.

I inch closer and whisper: “Then how about I sneak you backstage, eh?”

Charlie’s brow scrunches. “Backstage? It’s just our house!”

“Then let’s pretend it’s backstage,” I tease and grab their hands, leading around a tall curtain.

We find a hidden spot behind a tall vase and wait for the show to start. The lights dim and a hush falls over the gathered audience out front. Beautiful golden lights have been arranged for a colorful yet dramatic setting. Graceful dancers take to the stage in their pure white costumes, waltzing and carrying out grand jeté en tournant to elegant violin music. In quick glances I scan the crowd for the Shelbys. Arthur’s already fallen asleep. Where did Polly go..? Ah. Good timing, Mr. Gold.

The performance carries on and I halfway notice Arthur getting up. Thomas rises and follows to where he just left. The ballet ends with the bittersweet dancer crumbling to the ground. Red silk gets pulled from her dress, showing a deeply creative display of the end of hope. The crowd applauds and I peek over to see Ruby’s overjoyed face as she claps too.

Bang!

What the Hell-? That was a gunshot. That’s not part of the show. Are we under attack? Is someone dead? Lord, not another death.

I gently tug on the kids’ sleeves and start getting up. “Charlie, Ruby, let’s get you to bed now.”

Charlie is tired of ballet but Ruby wants to keep watching. “Aw. Please-?”

“I let you watch the dancers. Now it’s time for bed, oké?”

The children shuffle down the empty hall while Dílis chases them. I take one last look and see Lizzie running for the front door. Whatever new misfortune has fallen, someone needs to keep Charlie and Ruby out of it. I follow them upstairs and see them dive under their bedspreads.

“Bleib,” I order and the dog lies down between the kids’ beds. “I’ll leave Dílis with you two and be back later to check on you. Right now you two need to sleep. Oké?”

Ruby frowns. “What’s that mean?”

“It means ‘okay,’” Charlie guesses. “Right?”

“Right, Charlie. Now go to sleep. Goedenacht.”

I shut the door and sprint back down the steps, trying not to trip on my dress. The guests are still seated. In a split second I see Thomas disappear into the dining room. I follow him and watch as Arthur carries someone to the table. Blood drips from a bullet hole in her arm. It’s… Linda? They clear the table and lay her down, but she jolts up and tries attacking Arthur.

“What’s going on?” I blurt, not sure of how to help.

Polly sees me watching. “She tried to shoot Arthur. So I shot her.”

“Help me hold her down!” Lizzie urges.

We both rush over and each take an arm, attempting to keep Linda still. But like everyone else in this family she’s stubborn. 

“Linda, I would have taken your bullet! I deserve the bullet!” Arthur groans, holding his head.

Polly pulls out a coat and begins wrapping her legs. Linda jerks upright and tries to hold away the pain.

“An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!”

Thomas leans over her and grips her face. “Linda! Look at me. You’ve got a kid. If you die, he’ll come to us to raise.”

Arthur kneels down to assure his wife as Thomas begins addressing the wound. I do my best to keep a firm grip on Linda’s arm.

“Mr. Shelby. Your guests…” Mosley’s voice comes from the hall. Can’t he take a fucking hint?

“Family only!” Thomas orders. “Arthur, get him out.”

Mosley persists. “Mr. Shelby-”

Arthur gets up and points a gun straight at Mosley’s head. “Get out!”

“Liam!” I shout, knowing he is not far. My broer grimly marches in and sees me holding Linda. “Get him out!”

Liam spots Mosley and, without a word, passively pushes the bloke out of the room. The nerve of that klootzak! 

“Lizzie, get some morphine iodine,” Thomas says as Polly hands him a cloth napkin. “Linda, you’re going to have to bite on this. It’s really gonna hurt.”

He pours whiskey on the wound and Linda shrieks at the top of her lungs. I put all of my weight on her to keep her from moving while Arthur holds her head. Once the bullet is removed Arthur starts muttering, still blaming himself. Thomas stands up and pats his broer on the shoulder.

“Arthur, go get yourself some opium. Verena, we need more whiskey.”

“On it.”

I sprint out and race to the kitchen, dodging maids and servants around every corner. When I get there I demand whiskey from the kitchen workers. They scramble down a set of stairs and in less than two minutes I’m racing back with three bottles in my arms. When I return I see they’ve got Linda drugged with her head resting on a pillow. Arthur’s hugging her head as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

“She’s going to be fine,” Thomas promises.

Arthur lets out a muffled sob. “You should have let her do it, Pol!”

Thomas grips his arm and pulls him away, forcing Arthur to face him. “Arthur! Listen to me! You got things to do. You got a kid. We need you. You hear me?”

“Aberama wants you as best man,” Polly adds from behind us.

Arthur tries to laugh and Thomas hugs him closer. “You hear that?”

Polly huffs and takes one of the bottles I’m holding to pour herself a drink. “I save his life, he hugs him.”

I attempt a bewildered smile. “You’re engaged?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh stop it, Verena. You knew all along just like Ada.”

“I’m so happy for you, Polly!”

By now Lizzie’s returned with the morphine and Arthur offers to dress the wound. With that we leave the troubled husband to attend to Linda, filing back into the hall. Surely there’s going to be a family meeting about this-

“Verena,” Liam’s voice calls from where the guests are. “You better come hear this.”

My face darkens at his serious tone and I join him, looking over to see Mosley standing in front of the audience of aristocrats, servants, and dancers.

“What’s happening now?” I whisper dreadfully.

“...I have some news. Good news, I think. I’m sure our host will forgive me if I use this platform to give you an early announcement of a long overdue event. I want to tell you good folk first that with the dawn of a new decade I will be setting up a new political movement here. In the very heart of England. And Mr. Shelby will be with me shoulder to shoulder. It will offer a new conception of politics in which the character of the British, our true character, will be reborn.”

The guests cheer and applaud but all Liam and I can do is stare blankly at his hintingly threatening words. How deep of a socialist is this man? Is he talking about-?

“Many of you lost fortunes in the recent stock market crash. The men of money, the capitalists in New York, the Jews. The efforts of laboring men have equipped our competitors against us.”

Zipporah’s kind face flashes past, then Uncle Colon, then all of the employees in vader’s shop. He’s talking about them. Mosley is slandering and discrediting the very people I work with and love. 

I turn away and seek out Thomas, Lizzie, and Polly standing apart from the crowd. “Thomas. What is he leading to?” He merely looks at me with a sad, empty face, offering no answer. “Polly-?” I panic.

Mosley speaks again. “This party, this new movement, this revolution will be called the British Union of Fascists.”

My stomach drops and the noise of praises and applauding echoes in my ears. They’re cheering for this madman? Hearing him threaten the very world we live in and Thomas is doing nothing?

“Do you hear him?” I plead, my face still frozen in shock. “How can you listen to that? He is mocking the very foundation of my country’s system. My vader’s business. He speaks of facism!”

Lizzie, having kept quiet, comments: “What the fuck are you doing dealing with a man like that, Tommy?”

“I second that. I want to know why the Hell I’m still working for a man who’s associating with a fascist!”

Thomas keeps a grim face and reaches for a cigarette. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

Polly isn’t convinced. “Again.”

No. No. This is too far, even for me. It’s not just about me anymore. This ‘plan’ or whatever Thomas is cooking up is going to hurt many more people. Many more people. It’s not just a matter of the heart now. It’s about conquering morality. How can he even allow himself to sink this far?

“I am not staying around to discuss anything with that man,” I declare darkly and start walking back. “He is a complete klootzak.”

“Where are you going?” Polly asks when Thomas doesn’t answer.

“To see the children before I go. It's Christmastime, after all."

Now he speaks. “Verena-”

“Do not start, Thomas. That man is just like those who are driving people like Zipporah out of Germany. If he comes near me again I will punch his lights out.”

Before I make it to the hallway I hear Lizzie behind me. “I’ll talk to him.”

I swallow part of my growing anger. “Please do. If he keeps this up I will end my employment and return with my uncle so he can talk some fucking sense into him.”

If Thomas was uncomfortable around Uncle Colon when he’s having a good day then he is in for a real treat when I tell him about Mosley. Of all people I expected Thomas Shelby to work with, he is the furthest I could have guessed. 

“Verena!” Liam jogs up and points to where Mosley just walked off. “Did you hear-?”

“Loud and clear. Come on.” 

I show him up the stairs and quietly peek into the bedroom. Both kids are sound asleep, along with my hond.

“Komm, Dílis.”

The canine’s head perks up and he trots over to me. We all make our way to the exit and bundle up before heading into the chilly night. The glow of the decorative lights cast ghostly shadows as we pile into my car.

“You got a dog?” Liam asks when he looks at Dílis in the backseat.

“Yes. And from what I’m told he will offer the companionship I need,” I mutter as I begin driving down the gravel road.

Liam pauses for a minute. “How was Abel?”

My heart clenches again. “Troubled. And that man who just spoke is going to lead to far more trouble for everyone.”

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 61: I Bet It Stings

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

I don’t like this. Do not. Like. This. Being escorted by my broers, sure. Being escorted by the Peaky Blinders, oké. But having to travel with a stranger?

“How long is the drive to London?” Mr. Dixon asks in his Southern drawl as we exit the barge. 

And I thought I stuck out here. A Georgian distillery man in a cream suit catches even more attention. Vader certainly has a fair share of business associates.

“Please be patient, Mr. Dixon. A car is on its way to meet us.” I walk up to the ticket office and signal to the man inside. “Hello. I am Verena Steenstra, foreign representative for Thomas Shelby and Shelby Company Limited. Is there any transport scheduled for us?”

His eyes light up at the mention of the company. “Of course! Right this way.”

We’re led down the dock and into a parking lot, where a shiny Fiat 501 is waiting.

“Woo-wee! This Mr. Shelby sure does know how to spend his money,” Dixon comments as he inspects the car. “What a beauty.”

“Mrs. Thorne sent the car, Ms. Steentra,” the driver informs me as he places our bags in the trunk. “She said to tell you that Mr. Shelby is currently doing business in London.”

A perfect warning. It’s also a perfect way to escape my escort. Thanks, Ada.

The panic of the market crash is already spreading. I see it on everyone’s faces as we’re driven through London’s crowded streets. The Houses of Parliament stand proudly ahead. The Fiat parks near the front and I head straight to the nearest phone booth.

“Ada? I just arrived in London. Any news?”

I hear her grunt. “Business as fucking usual. God, I hate him so much right now! I hope you didn’t come back just for him.”

“You know that’s not true,” I mutter sourly. “Sometimes I hate him, sometimes I love him. There are even times when I want to shoot him. Are you alright?”

Ada sighs. “Do not say a word. I’m pregnant.” She’s-?! “Don’t say a word! It’s bad enough hearing Linda and Lizzie complain about their husbands. I don’t need someone breathing down my own neck.”

So Thomas did marry her. Is that what it takes? Get knocked up and Thomas Shelby marries you. I swear sometimes I want to slap him straight across his hoogdravend face-

The face I spot across the courtyard. Thomas. Wearing a sharp navy suit and his signature hat. Quite the hoity-toity job for a man who breeds horses.

“We’ll talk more when I get to Birmingham," I mutter before hanging up.

I lead Dixon towards the gangster, trying to keep my breathing steady. You are not here for him. You are here to earn money. You are here to help your family.

“Well, well, well. Thomas Shelby, MP,” I mock brashly.

Thomas, who still has his back turned, freezes. He whips around and his look of shocked recognition is priceless.

“Verena,” he breathes out. “You’re here…”

Yes, I still exist. Yes, I did pick out a dazzling blue dress to show off my best features. No, I do not regret showing up unannounced to him.

“And I brought business with me,” I finish for him and gesture to my escort. “Thomas, this is Mr. Dixon, from Georgia. He owns a distillery operation in Tennessee.”

Thomas looks between us. Then down at my hand. One might say he’s examining for my own wedding band.

“Great. Why is he here?” Thomas asks bluntly.

I wave a finger at him. “Be nice. He’s here because he lost stocks, the same as you, and wants to do a sale. And…”

“And to escort this lovely lady,” Dixon states and boldly places a hand on my waist. “Her daddy asked me to. A true beaute if I ever did see one. How fetching, indeed. Too bad you’re a Yankee.”

Thomas stares the man down with an icy glare. “Hilarious. May we please proceed, Mr. Dixon?”

“Before you both start, please tell me why you have summoned Liam?” I demand lightly. “Before I left he mentioned receiving a letter from you. Obviously you two stayed in touch.”

Thomas stays quiet for a second, measuring his words. “Your brother is a hard worker. He secretly offered his services for the time you are here so he can keep you safe.”

Keep me safe? That practically means keeping an eye on me! Why on Earth would Liam desire to work with the Peaky Blinders? The job is cut-throat, brutal, adrenaline-inducing- Who am I kidding? He’s a prime candidate for it. I know it’s his decision but I do not want my broer being caught up with Thomas more than he has to!

“Very well. I will leave you men to talk.” I back away crossly and start walking back to the car.

Mr. Dixon gets a confused look. “Ms. Steenstra, I’m supposed-”

“You were supposed to escort me from New York to England on orders of my vader. You have fulfilled that obligation, therefore your services to me are no longer required.”

I am going to Birmingham where the real action is. Not all these suits meeting in dark rooms. I am going to bring my information to Arthur, the head chairman, and continue on my merry way-

“That is all?”

The hidden upset in Thomas’ voice leaves me feeling both cocky and… shameful. It pains me to treat him like this but I am not lowering my defenses again.

“I did not come here for you, Mr. Shelby,” I reply, still facing away. “I am here because this new depression has twisted my hand and I am here to earn money.” He has no response to that. “Now you know what it feels like to face the other end of disappointment.”

I bet it stings.

“Is this about Lizzie?” Thomas asks when I start walking again.

“You brought it up, not me. Good evening.”

“Oi! Verena-!” He’s trying to follow me.

I pivot and hold up a hand to stop him. “Stay away, Thomas. I’d rather not repeat the same routine. You need help, I support your ridiculous idea, you botch it up and push me aside, and I walk away.” I slide into the car and give him one last look of warning. “Let’s skip to the last part, shall we? I’m going to see Ada and get some real business done.”

Thud!

I shut the door in his confused face and watch as he gets smaller and smaller behind me. Remember, Thomas, you made me into this.

The instant the Fiat drops me off at Ada’s house she comes running from the front door to give me a hug.

“You’re back!” The Shelby zuster cheers. “Did you see Tommy yet?”

Her subtle curiosity makes me give her an annoyed smirk. “Left a Southern gentleman to talk with him. Now that people in America hear my family’s partnered with you lot they all want in on the action.”

She tilts her head. “Maybe the Southern man fancies you.”

“He’s here for business, same as I.” That closes the topic. “What about you? I guess you missed sex after all.”

Ada smiles and pats her stomach as we make our way inside. “Polly predicts it’s a girl. Says I should name her Elizabeth.”

“And who’s the lucky father?” I grunt as I heave my trunk into the parlor.

“His name is Ben Younger. A black man.”

“Another blessing from God,” I declare warmly and ignore her last comment. “You should be very happy. He sounds like a very charming man if he has won over Ada Thorne’s heart. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Ada smiles gratefully, then turns to a different subject. “I don’t know what plans you have yet. I’m meeting Tommy in a few days to discuss some things with a comrade.”

He’s still dancing with socialism? Wonderful. Something else we can disagree on.

“Speaking of, Tommy wanted to know why you’re giving him the silent treatment.”

Is that what he thinks I’m doing? If anything, the treatment I’m giving him is his own. And I will be anything but silent about it.

“I am not.”

Ada rolls her eyes and pours some fresh tea. “Come off it, Verena. You haven’t been too chatty with him since you last left.”

“Thomas used to appreciate me for listening. Now he won’t even say thank-you. So he’s going to get his own words spat into his face.”

“Yes, well, Tommy’s a stubborn twat.” She gives me a pointed glance. “Yet you still wear his necklace.”

Drat. She noticed. I finger the silver pendant around my neck, unable to think of a reasonable rebuttal. I can’t help it. I tried to dispose of the thoughtful gift that reminds me of him. Either it’s nostalgia or pathetic pity on myself, but I cannot bring myself to throw Thomas’ cross away.

“Can you please just say something so he’ll stop nagging me about when you’ll start talking again?”

Something about how she says that sounds practiced. Anticipated. Not like something Ada would normally go along with.

I pick up the teacup and inhale the sweet scent. “He told you to ask me, didn’t he?”

“Yes! He called me before you got here! And I’m tired of being a bloody messenger!” Ada outbursts. “So tomorrow you are going to Arrow House and talking to him properly!”

My jaw drops. “I don’t-!”

“Shut it.” Ada picks up a briefcase and sets it on the table. “Here. These are documents from some contacts in Boston. Go have him sign them and talk to him before he nags my ear off. No more squabbling. This is an order on behalf of the company. End of discussion.”

Sneaky Ada. How does she expect Thomas and I to chat and make up? And for me to risk opening up again? He’s like a drug. The longer I know I can’t have him, the more I want him. The devil of Birmingham.

I could leave straight to Germany now. Leave before I get in too deep again. Thomas might not like it. But my precious time should be used for making money and avoiding more heartbreak. Then again, Polly wouldn’t approve if I go without seeing her. I could give in and let them hate me… No. No matter how hard I try to convince myself, I cannot let him go. 

The only thing I can do is my job.

@meadows5

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 71: Hate Is A Strong Word

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

*Warning: mention of depression and eating disorder

General POV

Thomas is actually scared. With every second he drives closer to Verena the more he dreads seeing her. There is no way, no way in Hell he’ll be forgiven now. Not only did he hurt her, he was careless to let Liam talk him into letting him come along. And now Polly can never reprimand him for being so neglectful to detail. Now Verena isn’t holding back as she used to. Thomas fears to see murder planted in her eyes.

He drives through Watery Lane and pulls up to the house. An unfamiliar Ford is parked outside as well, leading Thomas to believe that Verena has company. Hostile company? He will have to wait and see.

Thomas stands there for a minute, letting the freezing rain numb his already-lifeless face. After he checks his pistol and opens the door-

Rr-raw-raw-ruh! The black and brown canine scampers down the hall and bares his teeth, refusing to let Thomas walk another foot. Even the dog hates him now.

“Down, down! Get back here, dee-lish!” A deep American voice commands.

“It’s Dílis, dummy!” Another voice bullies.

“Whatever. What the Hell does she say to make him stop?”

“Komm, Dílis!”

The dog, still growling, turns and trots back to where the voices are. 

“Oh, sure," the other voice mocks. "The one who married the German vrouw knows German.”

Thomas takes this as a sign to enter and cautiously walks in to find four men seated in the kitchen. One look at them tells him they’re related to Verena. The dark-haired one is the shortest, leaving the other three with light hair similar to hers. They’re all wearing similar thick winter clothes. One with suspenders, two with fur hats, and another with a knitted scarf. 

Now they see Thomas. The dark-haired man is the first to stand, staring Thomas down as if he’d just threatened to shoot them. The two tallest blonde men exchange glances while the shortest blonde examines Thomas carefully, like one does with an explosive.

“Shelby?” The dark-haired one speaks. Thomas nods. “Alright. Let’s get this over with. I’m Conor, the oldest. This is Eoin, Nicolaas, and Abel. We’re Verena’s broers.”

Conor points to each brother, with none of them offering a greeting, and gestures for Thomas to join them. He reluctantly complies and takes a seat on a stool, seeing Dílis watching him from under the table.

“You’re shorter than we expected,” one blonde comments in a more lighthearted way.

Conor rolls his eyes. “Eoin.”

“What? Look at him!” He jokes dramatically and points.

Thomas goes straight to the point. “Is Verena here?”

The room goes quiet again. A testy situation if Thomas ever saw one. Nicolaas and Eoin mumble something to each other, while Abel, presumably the quietest of the bunch, keeps watching him. Conor mulls something over and is the one to answer.

“No. But we need to talk to you anyway.”

“She’s our zuster,” Nicolaas asserts and steps forward, wringing his fists together. “You hurt her, we kill you. Are we square?”

The gangster nods without showing too much alarm. “Death threats seem to be this family’s motto.”

Eoin chuckles and waves him off. “We’re not killers. Only when Verena’s involved.” His laid-back face hardens. “She’s our zuster. She’s naïve and overly nice. Too nice for the likes of you.”

“And thanks to you, we’re down by one,” Conor points out in a low voice. “Liam was our concrete. The one who held us together.”

“His widow Evelyn is distraught,” Abel adds softly.

Thomas looks individually at each brother, seeing how they are each affected by grief. He never wanted anyone to feel this way. He knows the recognizable sting of grief and how it changes a man. How it changes a family. 

“My own family suffered a loss,” Thomas confesses, forgetting all about keeping a sturdy appearance. “I am so sorry for Liam’s death. It’s all my fault.”

The brothers all nod respectfully but he has a feeling they’re expecting more.

“Thank you for your condolences, Shelby,” Nicolaas confirms. “But the person you need to say that to is Verena.”

“Losing Liam broke her real bad,” Abel explains. “She isn’t the same.”

Eoin clears his throat. “You hurt her. So unless you go talk to her before we all leave for America there’s going to be some pain involved.”

“I dunno if she’ll see me,” Thomas stresses, looking at them with an almost desperate gaze.

“That’s up to her.” Conor locks eyes with the others and when they seem to agree on something he points down the hall. “She’s in her room.”

The gangster frowns. “You said she wasn’t here.”

Conor raises a hand. “That was before you offered an apology.”

Thomas anticipates more comments but there are none. The four Steenstra brothers wait in silence for him to take the journey. With each step he takes the creak of the floorboards sound supersonic, further alerting the American woman to his presence. What will she say? Will she even listen to an apology? Thomas doesn’t even deserve an audience with her. But he cannot let her go without confessing.

Thomas reaches for the doorknob and enters slowly, scanning the small room for- Oh God. It’s worse than he thought.

Verena’s POV

I cannot empty myself further. No more fasting or purging can make me calm. No more bathing or scrubbing can make me feel cleansed. No more praying or begging can make me feel alive. It’s been almost a week and time seems to be slowed down. Every day I’m haunted by thoughts of how this could have been prevented. Thoughts of how much I’ve altered to welcome this lifestyle. Sooner or later I’ll have to give in to my broer’s words and move on. How did I go wrong-?

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Those aren’t their clumsy footsteps. It’s someone else. Lucky guess who it is.

Creak.

I stay seated on the stool facing the desk, refusing to look around at the doorway. In mere seconds his familiar scent clouds my nostrils and my heart soars at the same time my blood starts to boil.

“Get out,” I growl, allowing no room for argument. “Eruit.”

“Verena-” Thomas’ deep voice starts to ask.

“Eruit!” I order in a raised tone. “Get out.”

He doesn’t budge. “You’re not well. Please-”

I push the stool away and whip around to give him a dead stare. Not well? No fucking kidding! “Get the fuck out, Thomas Shelby! Go away!”

His saddened crystal blue eyes don’t flinch, having expected my attack. He just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching me with the same look I gave him when Grace and John died.

“You’re really going to send an old friend out into the cold before he can speak?”

My raging eyes widen and I stiffly reach for my gun. “Yes! I can’t have you in my fucking life up any more! Eruit!”

Thomas remains a statue, letting me yell bloody murder at him. “You don’t hate me. You couldn’t shoot me.”

That’s the last straw.

“I love you, you bastard!” I cry, my hand shaking with anger. “I still love you after all you’ve done. And I hate myself for still loving you! And if you don’t get out of this fucking house right now I’m going to be mourning you too! Get! Out!”

Something flashes in Thomas’ eyes and he finally comes to life. “You had a taste of what this job brings. What kind of men I deal with. Bloody Hell, you were stabbed for God’s sake!” His jaw tightens and he shows a flicker of worry. “You just lost your brother because of me. I can’t let you be killed too.”

My mouth curls into a sneer. “I decide my actions, Shelby.”

“You’re fired.”

He says so in a blank, careless volume. As if I’m just like any other disposable employee who hasn’t wasted years of her life only to lose her broer.

“To think I still care for you,” I hiss, shaking my head. “No. I’m not fired.”

Slap!

The high-pitch sound of flesh hitting flesh is music to my ears. Thomas remains still while my pink handprint on his face slowly dissipates. 

“Consider that my resignation. You made me into this, Thomas Shelby! You roped me into your world and now I can’t leave!” With every shout I keep getting closer, backing him out into the hall. “And now your choices have taken Liam and Polly!” 

My accusation hangs in the air. We’re both at a standstill, fuming with unspoken claims. I’m so close to breaking! Tearing down the remaining walls and telling him off for everything he blames himself for. Yes, he can be an unsavable, arrogant bastard! 

Thomas waits a few more seconds and swallows. “Where will you go?”

“I’m going back home with my broers. For good.” Shut the door shut the door-!

“You’ve said that before,” the gangster murmurs. “Chances are we’ll see each other again.”

I hold his sad gaze for one final time. “Go to Hell.”

In the last second just before I close the door he gently pleads: “Don’t let yourself hate.”

God, I want to so badly. As I stand there gaping at him my heart feels like it’s going to split in two. It would be so easy to give in and hate him, just like everyone else. But that’s just what anyone would expect. Right now I need to carry out mourning Liam. Right now I need to be alone.

“It took you this long to see that I love you, that I sacrificed nearly everything to help you be happy. It was one thing to victimize my heart in this job. But now this job has taken my broer.” I shake my head scoldingly as I finish closing the door. “No. I am finished with you. Tot ziens, Shelby.”

Shelby. The name feels like a curse. A swear. A damnation to anyone who hears it. I hope you’re happy now, Thomas. I’d hope you would have no regrets but you always will. You already have so many regrets. Mine is that I wish I’d never come to Birmingham. I should never have come back.

I thought my moments of fawning over Thomas Shelby were spent. But it seems that I still have tears to shed after all these years. It’s as if my life has been defined by it. Who I want to be, who I am, why I am. I try to hide the desperate face, the shallow eyes. Lord, help me. My best is all I can give. Misery bestows itself to me as I can only string my hope back together. This journey has showed that challenges in life can be forgiving… and torturous. The more I try, the more I fail. Me, myself, and I, are cursed to be alone.

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5