Martha's tenth birthday fell during the annual gypsy festival that happened each year on the very edge of Birmingham, in a large, open field. Peggy deemed Martha and Ada old enough to attend that year, and the family wanted to make it a special celebration for Martha's birthday.

Peggy had made both girls new dresses adorned with bits of lace and ribbon from other sewing jobs. The two ran through the Shelby house, screaming with delight as they twirled around and watched the dress layers fly up around them. John worried one of them was going to fall down the stairs and sat halfway up the first flight, ready to block bodies if need be. He was soon entranced by the white whirl that was Martha, her blonde hair flying around her head. She looked down at him and smiled, her eyes piercing through the hair whipping across her forehead.

John had started to realize that he liked Martha far, far more than just a friend. He always knew what he felt for her was different than how he felt about Ada or the rest of his family, but he was getting older, and he'd come to the notion that maybe he liked Martha. Fancied her.

Late the next morning, Martha's birthday, the Shelbys headed out to the gypsy camp, in a borrowed wagon from Uncle Charlie. Tommy held the reins, with Arthur and Peggy next to him. John and the girls sat in the back, potato sacks protecting the white dresses from the dirt of the wagon. John put his hand in his pocket for the tenth time so far, checking to make sure Martha's gift was secure.

John, Martha, and Ada spent most of the afternoon wandering the camp in wonderment, eating strange foods and watching the gypsy children run around barefoot and playing games that seemed to be from a very different world. John leaned against the side of a wagon, chomping on candy, while he watched Martha and Ada from a distance. They were playing with some of the girls from the camp, and he found himself daydreaming again.

"What about the one in white?" John overheard a boy near him say, in Romani.

"Which one?" His friend replied.

"The blonde. She's pretty. We should go over and talk to her." The first boy said.

John began fuming. He knew the two boys had seen him with the girls earlier, and he realized they probably didn't know that he could speak Romani. He felt pure jealousy coursing through him and once again, he knew that when it came to Martha, he was in way deeper than he had thought. He stalked over to the girls quickly, cutting off the two boys who had been talking about Martha.

"Let's go find Mum, she did ask us to check in with her at some point." John said gruffly, grabbing both their hands and pulling them towards the last place he'd seen his mum.

"Is something wrong, Johnny?" Martha asked, and he loosened his grip a bit on both their hands, trying to calm down.

"Nothing, I just didn't like the way those two boys were looking at you both. Come on, nothing to worry about, let's have fun." John replied, and attempted to smile back at her.

The girls nodded and followed his lead, both knowing he probably was lying. But it was John, who had always looked out for them, and they both figured he had his reasons.

That evening, shortly after supper, Martha and John sat under a large tree, separated a little bit from the rest of the family. John wanted to give her the birthday gift in his pocket, and he felt overcome with shyness, which usually wasn't a problem for him. He had laid down a small blanket under the tree, so Martha wouldn't have to sit on the dirt, and they both sat next to each other for awhile, enjoying the setting sun and peaceful air.

"Happy Birthday, Mar." John said quietly, pulling the small package out of his pocket and handing it to her.

Her eyes lit up and he smiled at her reaction, waiting nervously as she opened it.

"Johnny, I love it!" She exclaimed, pulling out the bracelet he had made her with a piece of leather string and some beads he'd come across in an old trunk of his mother's.

"Its nothing fancy, but I thought you might like it." John replied humbly.

"I love it, really. Can you tie it on for me?" Martha said, holding out her wrist.

John tied the leather string around her small wrist, his fingers slightly trembling. It pleased him to see his handiwork on her arm and it pleased him immensely that she liked it. Once he was done, Martha threw her arms around his neck, and he hugged her back, tightly. Whatever happened in this life, he knew that if Martha was beside him, everything would be alright.

A few weeks later, John came down with a fever and was laid up in bed for nearly a week. Peggy spent day and night at his side, sending Tommy for whatever she needed. Ada and Martha had been banned from the room, in fear that they would get it as well.

After supper on the second night, Martha sat outside the doorway, listening to John mumble to himself in a daze. Peggy had fallen asleep in the chair next to the window, and Martha crept in. She stood close to the bed and looked down worriedly at John's face. He was pale and sweaty, his arm flung out from the blanket, and his eyes moving rapidly underneath the lids.

"Johnny?" She whispered, not wanting to wake Peggy and be scolded.

He said something she didn't understand and rolled towards her, his arm partially off the bed. She took his hand in hers, something she had taken for granted for six years, and was hit with the sudden fear that he wouldn't make it through the illness.

"Johnny, please get better. You can't leave me here without you. We're supposed to get married, everyone says it. I love you, Johnny. Stay, please stay." Martha pleaded with him quietly, her tears dripping down her face.

John squeezed her hand and said her name, before falling back into a quiet sleep. Martha stood there for what seemed like forever, watching his face relax. She heard a sound behind her and whipped her head towards the door, finding Tommy standing there.

"You're not supposed to be in here, little one." He said, holding out his hand to her.

She looked down at Johnny one more time, squeezed his hand, and let go, tucking his arm gently back under the blanket. Tommy took her hand and slowly closed the door, before leading her downstairs.

"He's gonna be alright, Martha. He's a strong one, and I know he won't leave you and Ada here to fend for yourselves." Tommy said, trying to lighten the situation a bit.

Martha burst into tears again and Tommy took her into his arms, sitting on a kitchen chair. He rocked her slowly back and forth as she cried and buried her head into his chest.

"I don't want him to die!" She wailed, and cried even harder.

"He's not going to die, love, I can promise you. He's quite sick, yes, but he's not going to die. Listen to me, Martha, he will never leave you. I swear it." Tommy said sternly, lifting Martha's head up so he could look in her eyes.

She finally nodded and Tommy held her until she fell asleep. Get better soon, Johnny Boy, he thought, Martha needs you, we all do.