“Is this correct?” he asked, a bit breathless.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Just follow me.”
I wasn’t used to leading, but it was obvious Zechariah had no experience on the dance floor. He was stiff, unnatural, and awkward, but he was doing it for me. I didn’t care if it wasn’t smooth. I just cared that he knew I appreciated his efforts.
He was so focused on our feet that he didn’t say a word to me, and after a few minutes, before the song was even done, I said, “Would you like to take me outside to get some fresh air?”
“Yes.” His relief was so palpable, I began to giggle.
“What?” he asked as he pulled out of our embrace.
“I’ve never heard someone sound so relieved in my life.”
One of his rare smiles came out to play. “It was a bit painful, wasn’t it?”
“It was marvelous.”
“It was awful.”
“You have a lot of room for improvement.”
“That’s a nice way of saying it was awful.” He put his hand under my elbow and led me out to the promenade deck.
This time we weren’t the only people on deck, so he walked me to the stern, which faced the ocean and was tucked out of sight from the ballroom. Thankfully, there was a refreshing breeze on this side of the ship. I briefly closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Do you think we’re headed toward war?” Zechariah asked, surprising me again.
Would I think so if I didn’t have foreknowledge? Most people suspected that we would soon be in Europe’s war, so I nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
He looked toward the ocean, his gaze hard to read in the darkness. “Neither would I. That’s why we’ve seen a stronger military presence in Panama and California, and why so many of us are being sent to Pearl Harbor.”
“Are you afraid of war?”
He turned to face me. His back was toward the deck, giving us even more privacy. “I have never been afraid of it before.”
“But you are now?”
“I’m afraid of what it might mean.” He moved closer to me and took my hand in his, reminding me of the gentleness he had for his patients. His hands were those of a healer, sensitive yet confident. I could smell his shaving soap and cologne. It was subtle but enticing. “After my mother died,” he continued, looking at our hands, “I promised myself I would never care about someone so much again. I was afraid for her safety, and I prayed for her constantly, but God didn’t hear me. My worst fears were realized, and I lost her. It almost destroyed me—and I knew that the only way to survive in this world was never to love again.”
I looked up at him, hearing the pain in his voice, and could see how it ravaged his features. He came across to the world as a hard, unfeeling man, when the opposite was true. His heart was unbelievably tender, and that was why he guarded it so faithfully.
“You have unraveled my resolve, Maggie. I find myself thinking about you all the time, hoping to get a glimpse of you or to work alongside you just to be near you. I’ve found myself begging God to protect you—yet, I’m afraid He won’t hear me again.”
He moved even closer, taking me into his arms, and I felt him trembling—or was it me?
“I’ve faced the threat of war before,” he said, his voice low, “but I’ve never faced it with someone I love beside me.”
“You love me?”
In answer to my question, Zechariah kissed me.
It wasn’t anything like the kiss Seth had given me. Seth’s had seemed planned and practiced. Zechariah’s was unexpected and fervent, as if he was afraid I would slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold me tight enough. He pressed me to his body, heighteningall my senses. His lips were gentle, yet his kiss was intense, and I could feel his heart pounding through the fabric of his uniform.
I responded to his kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling the need to anchor myself to him, to this moment, to this path. I’d lost so much recently that it felt good to find something new.
When he finally pulled back, his chest heaved, and his breath was ragged. I was struggling to find my own breath, and I was surprised when he pulled away completely, putting space between us.
He turned his back to me.
