Though I would have one more week to say my final good-byes in 1941, and I would make a call from the island to Mamaand Daddy to let them know what I had decided, this felt like a final good-bye to Zechariah. I had said what I needed to say, and I was at peace.
As I walked away from him, I knew, without a doubt in my mind or heart, that I had made the right decision, and I couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow and tell Gray.
I just hoped and prayed he would be in Lafayette Square as he’d promised.
34
DECEMBER 26, 1861
WASHINGTON, DC
My heart started pounding the moment I opened my eyes to the bright sunshine pouring into my bedroom. Snow lined the tree branches just outside my window, set against the brilliant backdrop of a bright blue sky.
The room was chilly as I tossed aside my quilt and put my feet onto the rug next to my bed. I ran to the window to see if Gray was waiting. Through the wavy panes of glass, I searched the square but could not see anyone.
Deep disappointment weighed down my heart. Where was he?
“Miss Margaret?”
I hadn’t heard the door open behind me, but Saphira was standing there, a question in her gaze.
“I haven’t laid your fire yet.” She bustled into the room with a bundle of kindling in her hands. “You’ll catch your death in that nightgown without a fire in the hearth. You should get back in bed.”
“Can you help me dress?” I didn’t care how cold it was in my room. I needed to find Gray.
“Yes, of course.” She laid the kindling by the hearth. “Just let me get this fire star—”
“It’s not necessary.” I went to my wardrobe and pulled it open. “I want to get dressed as quickly as possible.”
She frowned but joined me at the wardrobe, wiping her hands on her apron. I wanted to hurry her, to tell her I didn’t need all the accoutrements today, but it was cold, and I would want them—especially if I had to wait outside for Gray. I would wait all day, if necessary.
My pulse thrummed as Saphira helped me into my petticoats and gown. I glanced out the window again, but from where I stood, I could not see much of the square. What if Gray didn’t come? What if he’d accepted Pinkerton’s offer and chosen not to wait for me?
“How would you like me to style your hair?” Saphira asked when she had finished helping me dress.
“Let’s leave it in the braid,” I said, as I tossed the braid over my shoulder. It was still secure, though several tendrils had escaped, but that didn’t matter to me.
“Leave it?” she asked, holding up the horsehair brush.
“For now.” I grabbed a shawl from the end of my bed. “I’m going out. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“You’re going out—with your hair down?” Her dark eyes were filled with shock and uncertainty.
“I’ll tuck it up into my bonnet,” I said as I walked out of my room. “Thank you.”
My mouth felt dry, and my palms were sweating as I lifted the hem of my gown and rushed down the stairs and to the front door. It was still early, but I could not wait inside. I wanted to see Gray the moment he entered the square—if he came.
Opening the door, I paused as I stepped over the threshold.
Gray sat on the steps of our front porch.
He stood and turned to face me. Our gazes caught, and I could see all the love, all the devotion—and all the fear—in his brown eyes.
“Gray.” I said his name almost like a prayer as I rushed across the porch and down the steps into his arms.
He wrapped me in his embrace, holding me tight, pressing me against him. My cheek rested against his, and all I could do was revel in his nearness, inhaling the scent of bergamot and soap. He’d come. Gray had come, and I was now free to tell him that I had chosen him. Forever.
“I can’t be too sure,” he said on a happy chuckle, “but I think this is good news.”
