“Tomorrow,” I told him, lowering my hands. “Meet me here in the morning. I’ll tell you then what I will choose.”
“I’ll be here,” he said, his gaze falling to my lips.
My mouth tingled with the desire to be kissed by him, and I held my breath.
But he lifted his eyes to mine and gave me a sad—yet hopeful—smile. Then he took my right hand into his, gently pulling off my satin glove one finger at a time. The soft fabric slid over my wrist, like the wing of a butterfly, until my hand was free. The cold touched my burning skin as snowflakes landed and melted upon it.
Slowly, he lifted my hand to his lips. He cradled it in both of his, as if it was the most precious possession he’d ever held, and softly laid his warm lips upon my skin. He kissed the top of my hand several times, and then turned my hand over and laid a kiss upon my tender palm.
Closing my eyes, I savored the sensations dancing up my arm, making my heart pound so hard that I was certain he could hear it in the stillness.
Snowflakes landed on my cheeks and clung to my eyelashes. When I opened my eyes, Gray was watching me with a yearning I knew too well.
He set my palm against his cheek. “May I walk you to your door?”
I nodded, unable to use my voice.
Just as slowly, and with great care, Gray put my glove back on my hand, tugging it over my fingertips, up my wrist, and to my elbow, running his hand along the bare skin of my upper arm. A delicious shiver ran along my spine, making me want so much more than his kisses upon my hand. I found myself leaning into him, just as breathless as before, but he did not kiss me again. Instead, he tenderly wrapped my arm around his elbow, drawing me close to his side.
A few minutes later, when he dropped me off at my front door, I wished I could reassure him, tell him that the only reason I needed one more day was to be sure of Anna—and to tell Zechariah I wasn’t in love with him.
I didn’t know how I would possibly tell Zechariah, knowing how much he had come to love me and how devastated he would be to lose me. But I couldn’t let my guilt sway my decision. I was meant to stay with Gray. I knew it like I knew I was a healer. It was an innate knowledge, something that was hard to articulate but that made me feel whole. Complete.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said as I stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his cheek, my lips lingering.
His arms came around my waist, tightening, as if it took all of his willpower not to keep me there, to kiss me like I longed to be kissed.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, returning his embrace. He held me so close I could feel his heart thudding against my chest. “I love you,” I whispered near his ear.
“I love you too, Maggie.”
We held each other for a long time, and I could sense that he was trying to find the courage to let go—just as I was.
Finally, we eased away.
“Good night,” I said as I turned the knob and opened my front door.
“Good night.” He put his hand over mine to still me. “No matter what you choose, I will love you for the rest of my life.”
Tears threatened again, but I forced myself not to cry. “Merry Christmas, Gray.”
“Merry Christmas, Maggie.”
He left my porch, and I watched him for a few minutes as he walked away, the snow continuing to fall all around him, turning Lafayette Square into a winter wonderland. Right before he took a left down Pennsylvania Avenue, he stopped and turned. I smiled—though he couldn’t see it from so far away in the dark—and I hoped he was smiling, too.
As soon as he disappeared, the tears began to cascade down my cheeks.
“Miss Margaret?” Joseph asked from the foyer. “Do you need help?”
I didn’t try to hide my tears as I entered the house. “There’s nothing you can do,” I told him. “But thank you for offering.”
I bypassed a confused and worried Joseph and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. There, I knelt by the window to look out at the quickly transforming landscape and prayed with everything I had within me.
I wanted to choose Gray, but I still had a lot of good-byes to say before I was free to give him my whole heart.
33
DECEMBER 25, 1941
