30. Chapter Thirty #2
Roger smiled, shaking his future father-in-law’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“I suppose I should start calling you Roger if my daughter does so.”
Roger chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind it at all.”
Mr. Nicholson smiled. “I have been praying for my daughters since birth, and you are the exact type of man that I prayed for.”
Roger swallowed hard. “I promise I will take good care of her.”
“I know you will.”
Roger ran his fingers through his hair, fighting back a grin.
Mr. Nicholson had agreed, but he lacked one more agreement.
Margaret had made it clear she loved him, but he hurt her tremendously.
Margaret had avoided him all day and said nothing to him at the dinner table—not even a congratulations.
Roger didn’t mean what he said; his mother had always warned him to control his hot-headed temper.
He loved Margaret more than anything; however, he wasn’t good enough for her.
But he could try.
He’d dedicate his entire life to being the man she deserved, starting with becoming a man of God.
“Well, have you asked her?” Mr. Nicholson asked, his hand on his hip.
Roger shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “No sir.”
Mr. Nicholson grinned and smacked Roger’s back. “Well, get on with it. Last time I saw her, she was going for a walk. If you catch her in time, you can be engaged before the end of the night.”
Roger grinned. “Thank you, sir. I’ll get right to it.”
He exited the study and sprinted through the hallway and down the staircase.
Roger didn’t know how the Nicholson family viewed running in the house, but he didn’t care.
He was eager to see Margaret. His heart was like a chorus of longing, singing her name with fervent desire.
As he ran out the door, a rush of eagerness thrummed through his veins.
Margaret sat beneath a sweetgum tree with her knees pinned against her chest and her face buried between them.
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as reality hit her.
Roger was leaving for Boston, and he didn’t love her.
Being in the meadow had calmed her each time before, but not this time.
No matter how many wildflowers she saw or how green the grass was, the pain still remained.
The sun was setting above her, but it brought her no joy—each indicator of time proved time was growing closer to his departure.
He was leaving her. Roger was going away for good, and she’d never see him again.
Margaret had prayed he’d find happiness, but was she so selfish for wanting his happiness to be with her? He deserved to be happy with his newfound freedom and faith. Roger was on the right path, and now he would take it. Margaret was just the wrong one.
“Margaret.”
The voice was soothing, one she loved more than any other. It warmed her heart for a moment, but she remembered that it was the voice of the one who had caused great pain. Roger had broken her heart, and all she felt was great sorrow now.
Margaret peered up, seeing Roger standing before her. A soft smile tugged at his corners, but she looked away and hugged her knees tighter. “What do you want?”
“I thought I’d take a walk. Fancy seeing you here.”
Margaret wiped her tears. “It was my spot first.”
She felt a light tap on her shoulder and looked up to see Roger extending his hand. She wanted to push it away, but she ached for his touch. Unable to resist, Margaret placed her hand in his, and he lifted her to her feet.
“I have something for you,” Roger said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to her.
“What is this?”
“Open it, and you’ll see.”
Roger shoved both hands into his pockets, silently observing while she unfolded the paper. As Margaret studied the handwritten words on the sheet, she quickly realized they weren’t just words—it was a poem, a poem with her name written at the top.
Sweet Margaret so divine, in moonlight’s tender glow,
A whispering breeze, my love starts to grow.
Her gaze, a gentle touch, upon my weary heart,
A dance of stars, a symphony to start.
In every word she speaks, a melody unfolds,
A sonnet of love, as timeless tales are told.
Her laughter, like a gentle stream,
In the realm of dreams, where realities gleam.
Her eyes, like galaxies, holding secrets untold,
A universe within, where enchantments unfold.
With every step she takes, a ballet of grace,
In the dance of life, she finds her rightful place.
Sweet Margaret, an echo in the chambers of my soul,
A curtain of emotions, a beautiful, timeless scroll.
In the moment of time, our destinies entwine,
Sweet Margaret so divine, forever, you are mine.
A tiny tear rolled down Margaret’s cheek.
She wiped it, but more came. The poem warmed her heart as she read it over and over again.
He loves me. Margaret looked upward into the deep brown eyes of Roger McKinley.
He loved her, and it wasn’t a fantasy. His lips curled into a smile, a smile that made Margaret’s heartbeat speed.
“You wrote this?” she croaked, her chest tightening.
Roger nodded. “All I had to do was try. Asking the Lord to take control of my life and to help me has transformed me into a new person. I’m no longer the Roger before or after the war. I am a new version of myself.”
Roger reached out and stroked Margaret’s tears with his thumb. “I’m sorry, Margaret. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He leaned in closer. “If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. You don’t deserve to be treated that way by anyone.”
She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say. Margaret had loathed him five weeks ago, then loved him, then loathed him again, but she couldn’t be fickle anymore.
Roger then knelt on one knee, making Margaret gasp. She dropped the poem and covered her mouth. Roger took her hands in his and grinned.
“Margaret Nicholson, will you marry me?”
Margaret wiped a tear falling, then another. “I-I thought you didn’t love me.”
Roger kissed her hand, then looked deep into her eyes. “I could never stop loving you. I was a fool to push you away.” Roger’s voice cracked. “I don’t deserve you after all I’ve done, but I couldn’t leave without—”
Margaret dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the warmth of his embrace.
She held him tightly, clinging to the moment and hoping it was real.
Roger lifted her chin, meeting her lips with his own.
Margaret’s knees melted as she deepened the kiss.
She closed her eyes, thanking God for this moment.
She had waited what seemed like an eternity to be with Roger, but every moment of that wait had been worth it.
Roger pulled away, breathlessly. “So, is that a yes?”
Margaret nodded, her lips parting into a smile. “Yes, yes, it is. Oh, Roger McKinley, I love you so much.”
Roger kissed her temple then her cheek. “I love you, too.”
Margaret’s eyes clouded with tears, and Roger wiped them with his thumb. “I will never be perfect. I will always have my faults, especially the days I remember what happened to me and Ian, but I will try my very best to be the best husband I can be.”
Margaret shook her head, clinging to his sweater vest. “I don’t want perfect.
I want you. Only you.” Roger kissed her lips again, and Margaret melted against him, as every time beforehand.
“I want to marry you,” Margaret whispered against his lips.
“I want to marry your faults, your anxiousness, your kindness . . .” Margaret giggled. “Your temper.”
Roger chuckled. “My temper isn’t that bad.”
Margaret raised a brow.
“I’ll try my best to control it,” he whispered against her ear, tickling her with his breath. Roger met her gaze. “Now, I plan to leave for Boston before the end of next week. While I am there, I will find us a place, and when I do, I’ll send for you. We can have a big wedding, and—”
Margaret placed a finger to his mouth, stopping him. “I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to be separated ever again. I want to start this adventure with you.”
“But . . .” Roger started. “The wedding. It will take several months to create the guest list and plan the cere—”
“I don’t want a big wedding,” Margaret stated. “I don’t care about lace, ribbons, and roses. I just want to be married. If it is just you, me, and my family, I will be more than content.”
Roger’s forehead creased. “So should we elope?”
Margaret nodded slowly.
Roger stood, bringing Margaret up with him. He held her hands in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs. “Well then, I will stop at the courthouse tomorrow for the license, and we can get married there or wherever you like.”
Margaret giggled. “I don’t want to get married there.”
“Then where?”
Margaret lifted her chin and brushed her nose against his. “I know just the place.”