It took over an hour to walk to the Congressional Cemetery, where they would inter Papa. Gray stood next to me as we gathered around the coffin.
I stared at Papa through the glass window, too heartsore to cry again. My body hummed with grief, so deep and so piercing, it felt like it would never end.
Papa had been embalmed, as was the growing custom, and he looked as if he were simply asleep. He was handsome in his uniform, and despite the pain of his death, I knew he would have been proud to know he had sacrificed his life for a cause he believed in with all his heart.
And he was with my mother again. I could almost imagine the reunion they’d enjoyed at the gates of heaven. I would miss him dearly, but he’d never been the same without her, and knowing they were together again was consolation in my grief.
I tried to listen to the minister, to take comfort in his words and in God’s promises for eternal life. I wanted to be fully present in this moment, but when they lowered Papa into the ground, I had to turn away. I wanted to think of him as he’d always been—alive, passionate, and selfless as he gave his life to serve his fellow man. I didn’t want to think of him in his grave.
Gray was waiting for me, ready to carry my grief. I pressed my face into his shoulder, and he led me away.
Finally, after the funeral was done and I had accepted the condolences of hundreds of people and tried to eat supper with the Lincolns at the White House, Gray saw me home.
Joseph was the only one awake when we arrived back at the house. After we entered, he excused himself and left us alone. Gray was crouched near the hearth, stoking the fire, when I entered the parlor after removing my hat and gloves. My feet and back ached from all the standing and walking we had done that day.
I watched him. When he finally stood, wiping his hands, he turned and offered me a tender smile. “Tired?”
Every bit of love and affection I had for him rushed to the surface, and I crossed the parlor, wrapping my arms around him in a tight embrace.
“Thank you,” I said, surprised that I had any tears left within me. “Thank you for everything. I truly don’t know what I would have done without you.”
He returned my hug, holding me close. When he pulled back and looked down at me, I saw a longing in his face that matched my own. Yet he looked away and put a little space between us. He moved some of the logs with the fire poker and said, “Ifthere is anything you need, Maggie—anything at all—please let me know.”
Disappointment washed over me. Why wouldn’t he draw me close? Comfort me in a way that only he could?
“I have made an inquiry into your father’s financial situation,” he continued, “and I’m pleased that he’s left you secure. With your nursing income, I believe you will be able to stay in this house and keep your servants for as long as you’d like. But if there is anything else you need, I will see to it.”
It was a great relief, and I was thankful that Papa had had the foresight to leave me with a means of survival.
Gray stared into the flames. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your other path, the one you lost in 2001. I can’t imagine how much more grief this adds to your bruised heart.”
“It was good to have a funeral for him, to get a chance to say good-bye and have closure. I didn’t get that in 2001.”
He nodded. “I’ve also been thinking about the decision you need to make in January, and how your loss must affect your plans. Without your father here—” His voice quieted to a hush. “Is there reason enough for you to stay?”
I lifted my head to look at him and saw the pain in his features. Did he think I would forfeit this path because I’d lost Papa? Though part of my purpose here was gone, I still loved 1861 with all of my heart. And I loved Gray.
I could see he was trying to be strong for me, but he wasn’t able to hide the depth of his own grief.
“I love you, Maggie,” he said quietly, gently, and when he met my gaze, I saw that longing in his eyes again. “But I won’t pressure you to choose me. I won’t pressure you to do anything. Even if you didn’t have such an enormous decision to make, the loss of your father would be enough for me to give you time and space. But while you are healing and weighing all your options, please know that I will be here for you, no matter what you choose.”
I reentered his embrace, and he laid his cheek on top of my head. I could feel his heart pounding. I closed my eyes, wanting to please him and make him happy, to give him everything his heart desired. He was the kindest soul I’d ever known, and I did not deserve him.
When I looked up at him again, his gaze went to my lips. Slowly, he placed his hands on either side of my face, and I closed my eyes—but his kiss touched my forehead. His lips remained there for a long time, as if he was trying hard to force himself to stop there.
He’d said he loved me, and his actions proved it more than his words. He’d been my rock this past week—so why did he not kiss me? Was he holding back because he’d promised he would give me time and space? He knew I had a big decision to make, but he didn’t realize it involved another man. What would he think if he knew Zechariah had kissed me?
I had made no promise to either man, but it suddenly felt as if I was being unfaithful to both. I was trying to listen to my heart, but it was filled with grief again, growing more confused every day.
The weight of my decision hung precariously in the balance, threatening to topple one way or the other, hurting the two men I cared about more than any other.
When Gray pulled away and left me that evening, I knew it was for the best.
29
OCTOBER 27, 1941
HONOLULU, HAWAII
