“You needn’t have done that,” he said, though he smiled and untied the brown string.
“It’s very thoughtful of you,” Mrs. Lincoln said, her drawl a little more marked tonight, no doubt from being surrounded by her Kentucky family.
When the paper fell away, revealing a gilt-framed photo of Papa, Mr. Lincoln inhaled a deep breath and lifted his chest. “Edward.”
“He had his likeness taken the day he was commissioned as a colonel,” I said. “It was the proudest day of his life. He died doing what he loved, for the country and president he loved.”
Mr. Lincoln’s eyes misted over as he smiled from the picture to me. “I hope you haven’t given me the only copy.”
“I have another,” I reassured him. “Now we both have one.”
“I’ll treasure this, as I did his friendship.”
I accepted Mr. Lincoln’s handshake again, and then Mrs. Lincoln said, “Please enjoy yourself this evening, Margaret, and try to forget the weight of your grief, if even for a moment.”
“Thank you.” I turned from them and faced the room. Many people were strangers, but there were a few I knew well—and one I knew best of all.
Gray stood alone near the hearth, staring into the fire, a punch glass in his gloved hand.
My heart began to sing at the sight of him. Two weeks was too long.
How would I go a lifetime?
I approached Gray slowly, feeling the rustle of my gown against the rug, wondering why my legs felt like lead. Until now, I hadn’t realized how much I dreaded this encounter. My greatest fear was that he wouldn’t look at me the way he had before—or worse, that he would turn from me. I had lived through Pearl Harbor, yet the thought of facing Gray and seeing his loveless eyes put terror in my heart.
I stopped a few feet from him, causing him to look up, and the moment our gazes locked, I knew all I needed to know.
Gray loved me.
It was written all over his face, in the depth of his sad brown eyes, and in the way he looked at me, as if seeing water in a dry land. He would always love me.
“Maggie.”
“Merry Christmas, Gray.”
“Merry Christmas.”
I clasped my hands, not knowing what else to do with them. “I hoped you’d be here. I’ve missed you.”
He set his punch on the mantel and came to me, taking my hands into his, as old friends would do with a room full of curious onlookers.
“I’ve missed you too.” He looked at me in that way I had come to love, as if no one else were in the East Room with us. As if President Abraham Lincoln were not thirty feet away. Slowly, he lowered my hands. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot—praying for you, wondering how things went in...” He let the sentence trail away, and I knew he meant Pearl Harbor.
The depth of concern in his gaze almost made me choke up. He really did care how I was faring in 1941. He was the only person, outside of Mama and Daddy, who could understand.
Gray and I had been through so many difficulties. Now, more than ever, I wanted to experience the good times with him too. Surely, there had to be good times on the horizon.
“It’s been—” I paused, trying to contain my emotions. They were so close to the surface that I was afraid I might weep. “Horrifying,” I finished. “It’s been horrifying.”
“I’m so sorry, Maggie.”
I tried to smile, though the effort was wobbly at best. “Things are getting a little better. It has been two weeks...”
He broke our eye contact and looked toward the fire. “I’ve been aware of every minute.”
I wanted desperately to tell him how much I missed him, but there was no privacy here, and it would be unseemly to say something so intimate in front of all these people.
Mrs. Lincoln soon announced that dinner was ready, and we were paired off to enter the State Dining Room. I was coupled with one of Mrs. Lincoln’s gregarious Kentucky nephews, while Gray was paired with a beautiful and charming niece. We were placed at opposite ends of the table, on the same side, so I couldn’t even catch his eye throughout the meal.
