Page 62 of In This Moment


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He was baiting me, though whether he knew it, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t blame him for wanting to know. But I could not tell him. “I’m sorry, Papa. I truly am. I wish I could tell you.”

For a long time, he just looked at me. Then he leaned back on the sofa and ran his hands over his face. “How is our patient?”

“He is doing well.” I wanted to tell him that it was Virgil Earp lying in our spare room upstairs, but it would mean nothing to him. “If there are no infections, I believe he will make a full recovery.”

“That’s very good.” He smiled, though his focus seemed far away.

I wanted to tell him my intentions, though I knew he would not be happy. “Everyone is saying the war is here to stay, which means we will need to improve our hospitals and medical capabilities.”

“It is here to stay, isn’t it?” he asked, searching my face again.

“I will not tell you anything you do not already know.”

“How does it work?”

“What?”

“The time-crossing. Do you go on this way indefinitely?”

I could not meet his gaze as I shook my head. “I must choose which path I want to keep on my twenty-first birthday and give up the other two forever.”

“Your twenty-first birth—what does that mean?”

“On my twenty-first birthday, I will stay awake past midnight in the life I choose to keep, and my conscious mind will remain there. My physical bodies will die in whichever paths I choose to leave.”

He looked incredulous as he sat up straighter. “You’ll choose this one, of course.”

How could I tell him that I wasn’t certain? “I have three lives and dozens of people pulling me in different directions. I do not yet know what I will choose.”

The pain in his eyes cut me deeply. “Are you telling me that you mightdiein January? How can that be?”

“I’m so sorry, Papa.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

I shook my head, feeling guilt press down upon my grief. “I don’t believe so. I knew it would be hard.”

The confusion and hurt on his face tore at my heart. I wanted to change the subject.

“I want to be helpful,” I told him. “Miss Barton plans to speak to President Lincoln as soon as possible about starting more hospitals, and I would like to volunteer and be ofassistance to her. I have a lot of medical knowledge, and I believe it could be put to good use.”

Papa shook his head. “It isn’t seemly, Margaret. You are my daughter—not a doctor or nurse.”

“Perhaps not here, but I am in my other paths. And I want to be something similar here, Papa. I have not pressured you about this before, but I want to be useful. I cannot sit back and watch people suffer when I could do something about it.”

He looked defeated in every possible way, but there was fire and determination in his gaze. “I cannot abide the idea of you doing such menial work with men you do not know. You are a lady. This war is already changing everything we hold dear. I cannot let it change my hopes and dreams for you as well. One day you will preside over a fine home with an honorable husband at your side. If I allow you to do this, it could put all of that in jeopardy.”

“Please do not ask me to sit back and watch while I could be doing something useful.” I didn’t want to beg, but I could not let this go.

“I will not hear of it, Margaret. You’ve already told me the most devastating news I’ve ever received, and you want to ask more of me? It’s too much. I cannot bear any more.” He stood without looking at me and started to leave the room but then paused near the door and lifted his chin. “I have news of my own. I’ve been contemplating it for some time, but after yesterday, I became resolved. I am returning to military service. I’ve asked President Lincoln to petition the Senate to commission me as early as next week, and I plan to start soon after.”

I stood, my heart pounding. “What?”

He turned, his eyes shadowed with pain. “You may be a healer, but I am a military man. I cannot ask others to do what I would not do myself. I will fight for my country.”

He left the parlor and walked up the stairs, his head held high.

I sank onto the sofa again, pain and confusion piercing my soul. Tears burned my eyes, and I let them fall unchecked.