“I sure will.” He smiled from me to Gray. “It’s nice of you folks to take me into your home. Your wife is heaven sent, sir.”
My cheeks warmed again at Virgil’s assumption. I looked up at Gray, waiting for him to correct the young man, but he simply smiled at me.
“Mr. Cooper helped me bring you home,” I told Virgil, reveling in his mistake for just a moment. “This is my father’s house. He’ll be home later to meet you. But Mr. Cooper is just about to leave.”
“I’m sorry, miss. I just assumed.”
“It’s alright,” Gray said, putting his hand on Virgil’s foot to still his apology. “I could only be so lucky.”
The heat in my cheeks increased, and when I glanced up at Gray again, he winked at me.
I couldn’t hide my smile.
Rumors and fear had spread through Washington like wildfire, and at any moment we expected the Confederate army to march through our weak defenses. The defeat at Bull Run had made two things alarmingly clear to everyone: the war would not end anytime soon, and we were not as strong as we had thought.
Clara came to visit me early in the day. She had taken a couple of injured soldiers into her home, but there were countless wounded men lying in the streets all throughout Washington. The City Infirmary could not meet all their needs. We went out for the afternoon with medical supplies and did what we could, though it was a daunting task, and we were not prepared for the challenge.
After several hours, I came home to change for supper, hoping Papa had not returned to the house yet, knowing he would not approve of my activities. I didn’t know if he would come before Gray, so I waited eagerly for both men.
In the end, Papa walked up to the house first. It was past eight, and his shoulders were stooped like never before.
I met him at the door and took his hat and coat. Though I had a hundred questions, I wanted to let him share in his own time. He had probably spent most of the day talking and was clearly exhausted.
“I’ve delayed supper for you,” I said.
He put his hand on my cheek and offered a sad smile. “It wasn’t necessary. I had a bit of supper at the White House. You should eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
We walked into the front parlor, and I moved a pillow aside on the sofa so he could sit. He let out a weary sigh as he sat back and pressed a hand to his head.
“Do you have a headache?”
He nodded. “It’s been plaguing me all day.”
“I will ask Saphira to make you a cup of willow bark tea for the pain.” I turned to do just that, wishing I had some Tylenol or Excedrin for him, but he stopped me.
“Please stay, Margaret. I have something I’d like to ask you.”
I nodded and sat beside him on the sofa, my pulse thrumming. “Yes?”
He leaned forward, his blue eyes intense. “If it’s true that you live in 1941 and 2001, then it occurred to me that you know how this war will end. Please.” He gripped my hands in his. “Tell me.”
The air left my lungs as I stared at him, slowly shaking my head. “I wish I could, but it’s impossible.”
“Why?” He frowned, almost angry. “We were beaten yesterday, in a shameful and embarrassing loss. I must know if we will win this war.”
“It is not for me to say. No one else in 1861 knows the outcome of this war, and if they did, it could alter the future. Like I told you, if I knowingly change history, I will forfeit the path I change. If I tell you, then I might not wake up here tomorrow. It’s as simple as that.”
“But you know, don’t you?”
“Of course I know.”
He stared at me. “When we left yesterday for Centreville, you knew the outcome, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“And that’s why you looked so defeated.”
