Fateful Lightning: A New History of the Civil War & Reconstruction by Allen Guelzo (self help books to read TXT) 📕

open as if to respond. He was fit and strong, still sparred in the gym, but as he looked at Tom, he thought better of a comeback remark or any further physical posturing. He reflexively stepped back slightly and summoned up a broad innocent smile. He nodded slightly and returned to his table. Tom watched him as he sat down, leant over the table and said something to his group who laughed and looked over to Tom and Nia.

Nia’s pressure on Tom’s arm grew as she tugged him to sit down. She kissed him until the storm in his eyes calmed.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Sorry, I wasn’t quick enough to stop him insulting you,” Tom responded.

“No. Thank you for not beating the shit out of him,” Nia smiled and grasped his hand tightly. “I know what you can do, Tom Price.”

In Goldenboy’s corner the laughter continued. The landlord went by and collected some dirty glasses and empty bottles.

“You were lucky there, boyo,” he said in passing.

“Lucky where?” Goldenboy asked.

“Nia’s fella,” the landlord replied. “Would have taken you apart, mate. He’d have left you a quivering lump of jelly on the floor.”

“Yeah?” Goldenboy said aggressively.

“Yeah,” the landlord replied softly. “You may play a hard man on screen but that man over there is the real deal. He’s put men in the ground.” He caught Goldenboy’s eye and leant down to pick up a glass and whispered in the actor’s ear, “But, I think you knew that, didn’t you, boyo?”

***

The hotel room was so dark that Tom struggled to adjust to the darkness. He had woken with Nia spooning him and his leg on fire. He had rolled onto his back to stretch his leg and Nia had snoozily repositioned herself, her head on his chest. He felt her breath on his chest hair. He reached his right hand up to her hair and gently, lovingly began to run his fingers through her thick locks. Tom relaxed deeply enjoying the warmth of the bed and the feel of Nia’s naked body stretched along his. He felt uneasy, however. He had meant to tell Nia everything about London, Gagnon, the Russians and MI5 but the opportunity hadn’t really emerged and now he felt the moment had passed, that it would feel more contrived, even dishonest, if he was to tell her now. Tom decided he would wait for some time in the future to bring Nia into the picture. Tom expected he would stay awake until morning but, feeling somewhat relieved of a burden, drifted back off to sleep.

Nia woke as the room lightened. She slipped out of bed quietly and went to the bathroom. There, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She had wanted to ask Tom about what Jane had told her about the fight in London but had got carried away with the emotion of the evening. She smiled at her reflection in the bathroom’s mirror with a quick memory of the previous evening. She had been more nervous about working with Goldenboy than she had admitted to Tom, to Jane, to herself. It had been liberating when she realised that she felt nothing for him, that the only emotion he stirred in her was one of regret for ever marrying him. She felt a tiny bit superior as she felt only pity for Goldenboy’s continued emotional detachment, his shallowness, his self-absorption. It had been further liberating when Tom had not beaten the shit out of Goldenboy. Nia smiled, it had been enough that Tom had been willing to do so. She knew, after witnessing him in action, what he was capable of. But, more importantly, she felt, that he had been clearly in control. What a paradox he is, Nia thought, such a kind and gentle man but one who is capable of, how did he describe it, massive and controlled violence.

Nia returned to bed with a slight shiver and gently got back under the covers. She snuggled up to Tom spooning him again from behind. She shut her eyes and considered herself to be entirely content for the first time in, how many years, then realised it was for the first time ever. She had a man whom she loved and who loved her back totally, her career was, incredibly, on the upswing, and she felt emotionally and physically healthy. She was feeling freed from the demons of her past; love had redeemed her. She hugged Tom hard to her body, as if she was trying to meld the two of them as one, he stirred, and Nia relaxed and they both slipped into a warm and comforting early morning slumber.

They spent the day at the inn and took a long, chilly walk in the Black Mountains. Most of the cast and crew packed and left for the BBC Wales Cardiff studios while Nia and Tom were out hiking. After Nia had warmed up in front of the inn’s fireplace, Tom drove Nia to her hotel in Cardiff. The hotel, arranged by the film company, was of a trendy, eclectic boutique style. It smelt warm and chintzy with a hint of spice. Nia learnt via text that she would have an early morning call. Tom, tired of hotels, suggested he’d head back up to Rachel’s. Before Tom hit the road, they shared dinner at a decent Indian restaurant. Nia had found the unpretentious, somewhat authentic restaurant off the beaten tourist pathways. As they entered, they both inhaled deeply finding the redolent, rich odours of spices and cooking evocative of other times and other places. Nia, to a favourite Indian restaurant in her London neighbourhood, Tom to Afghanistan. After dinner, Tom made sure that Nia was safely ensconced in her hotel room before he headed out.

Tom drove through Cardiff’s quiet streets and thought of Nia all the way through to the outskirts of Cwmbran. He had synched his iPhone with the Land