My gown spread out as I took a seat. He sat beside me, crushing my skirt against his leg. He sat forward on the bench so he could turn toward me as he spoke.
“How is Mr. Earp?”
“He is recovering better than I could have hoped. I expect he will be able to return to his regiment within the next two weeks.”
“That’s truly amazing.” He seemed pensive. “I have thought a lot about that day, Maggie.”
My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I was able to see himclearly. “I’ve thought a lot about it, too,” I admitted. That day and all the others I’d spent with him.
“I have so many questions for you,” he said. “So much I am trying to understand.”
In all my uncertainty of Gray, I’d forgotten he would be suspicious of me, too. I’d done things he couldn’t begin to understand.
“How did you know what to do for Mr. Earp?” he asked.
“I wish I could answer you, but you wouldn’t understand even if I did.”
“Try me. I might surprise you.” His face was so serious, so intense, that for a moment, I believed he just might.
I shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
He leaned back, his shoulder pressing against mine. “So we both have secrets, is that it?”
“I think we both suspected that from the beginning.”
“What I don’t understand is how your father could be so surprised by your skills. You’re twenty years old and have lived under his roof your entire life. When could you have possibly learned such medical expertise without his knowledge?” He spoke almost as if he was talking to himself, working out a great puzzle in his mind. “And then there was the strange conversation with Mr. Earp.”
I looked at him, and he turned to meet my gaze. We were so close—so very close.
“When he said his name,” Gray continued quietly, “the strangest look came over your face.” He touched the curve of my cheek with his gloved hand—for only a heartbeat, but the sensation lingered. “You were surprised to hear his name, and a bit in awe, as if he was someone really important. Yet he’s just a boy from Illinois with a little brother named Wyatt—a name you also knew and said with reverence in your voice. But he didn’t know who you were.”
He had once told me he was perceptive, but until now, I had no idea how perceptive.
“Add to all of that,” he continued, watching me, “your melancholy as we waited for news of the battle—a battle we lost with such embarrassment and shame—as if you knew the outcome even before it started.”
I lifted my chin, almost in defiance, realizing I wasn’t doing as good a job of hiding my thoughts and emotions as I had hoped. I would have to do better. “Well? Have you figured me out?”
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re living a double life. Perhaps your father is in on it? He appeared surprised at your medical abilities, but maybe he was acting. Is he truly a Republican Senator from Oregon? Maybe he’s a spy with Southern sympathies who moved to Oregon to run as a Republican and insert himself in the White House. Perhaps you both knew something about the Battle of Bull Run because you had fed information to the South beforehand.”
I stiffened. “You questioned my loyalties one other time. I can forgive you for such an error, but I’m not so forgiving when someone accuses my father of being disloyal to his nation and president.”
Yet the words pricked at my conscience. Wasn’t I questioning Gray’s loyalties? Perhaps not out loud, but wasn’t that almost the same thing? It colored my thoughts and attitude toward him.
“You’re right.” He sat up straighter. “I am sorry, once again. But it’s driving me mad not knowing the truth about you.”
“I could say the same about you.”
He looked at me. Gone was the teasing gleam he often had. “I haven’t lied to you, Maggie.”
“Neither have I lied to you.”
We were both quiet for a moment, and though it was still hot, I didn’t want to leave the bench or his side.
He looked down at my gloved hands lying clasped in my lapand slowly reached for one. I allowed him to take it and watched as he gently turned it over. “Your hands are so small but so capable and strong. How is it possible at such a young age?”
My stomach filled with butterflies as I found myself leaning into him, my breathing shallow.
Slowly, he lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to its back. Though I was wearing a glove, I could feel the lines of his lips and the added heat against the fabric, and I held my breath.
