19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
The following days since Margaret learned how to drive had been normal, as though the moment with Roger never happened.
She received telephone calls from Eugene, worked casually with Roger, and, of course, got a letter from an admirer.
A thirty-five-year-old gentleman had written to Margaret, requesting to correspond while he was attending business in France .
The letter was nothing but respectful, but there weren’t any sparks.
No matter how many wonderful things the man could say about himself, Margaret didn’t feel attracted to him.
He was an ordinary businessman, nothing extraordinary.
Thursday evening, she had been surprised when Marjorie entered their bedroom squealing.
Graydon Marshall had called over the telephone, asking Marjorie to join him at the club again.
Not only that, he’d arranged for Roger to go, provided that Margaret was going too.
She needed to stay away and keep their relationship strictly business, but it was beyond that now.
Roger had been on her mind so much that she could no longer focus on her duty to the family—only on her heart that somehow beat for Roger now.
When they arrived at the club, Margaret first noticed she never looked down at her lap, just like days before. Those times had been during daylight, and while riding in the dark, her focus had been elsewhere, leaving her fears behind just as it had when Roger taught her to drive.
Sidney opened the door for Margaret and Marjorie.
Margaret followed her sister out, then straightened her coat as she stepped onto the ground.
When she looked up, she immediately locked eyes with Roger, standing alongside Graydon.
He stood in front of the entrance, the lights from the sign shining down upon him.
Margaret’s heart skipped a beat as if he had called her name, but he had in a way.
Just as each time she was near him, her soul screamed for him.
Marjorie linked arms with Graydon while Margaret’s knees wobbled beneath her.
She had nervous jitters around Roger again, just as she did on her first day of work.
Except this time, it was not just fright; it was because she was out of control.
She was going beyond the boundaries she had set for herself, just like when they sat so close in the automobile.
These feelings weren’t caused by desperation—Roger wasn’t even an eligible match.
She was utterly helpless, her nerves nearly causing her to stumble as she walked towards him.
“I’m surprised you aren’t exhausted,” Roger said.
“Me? Why would I be exhausted?”
Roger scratched the back of his neck. “Well, you know. You had planned at least twenty appointments and had to redo the paperwork—”
“Let’s not speak of work tonight,” Margaret interrupted. “I want to live right now. No work. No rules. Let’s just have fun, all right?”
A large grin stretched across Roger’s face.
Margaret was certain she’d faint on the floor from how breathless she became.
The music was lively and the dance floor was crowded with dancers.
Margaret’s heart quickened with every twist and turn.
The women wore the knee-length dresses Marjorie longed to wear.
They were coated in dazzle and glamour, almost making Margaret feel prudish for her choice of fashion—a gold sequin dress that stopped at her lower calves.
Marjorie took hold of Graydon’s hand, and they went onto the dance floor, letting the music’s magic take course.
Margaret looked over at Roger, whose foot was lightly tapping on the floor.
He had said he wasn’t much of a dancer the week before, but the music was moving him, just as it was her.
Chills sprouted along her arms, and her pulse quickened with each changing chord.
She longed to share every enchanting moment of the music with Roger, to be held in his arms, and to lose herself in the magic of his touch.
However, it would be more dangerous than she could imagine.
“The music is just lovely,” Margaret commented. “It’s magical how it can capture you at every moment, making you move without even thinking.”
Roger’s foot stopped tapping. “I guess you could say that.”
Margaret wanted to resume the laughter and jokes that they had endured hours ago, but she attempted to hold them back, only focusing on the dancers and music.
Margaret couldn’t dwell on her supposed attraction.
She couldn’t let it take control of her, but the protective walls were crashing, especially when the song ended, and a female singer took the stage, singing “I’m Falling in Love With Someone” by John McCormack.
This moment with Roger was considerably different from how Margaret acted with Eugene.
She tried to dismiss Roger from her mind, yet in her heart, he flowed in naturally.
“Would you care to dance?” Roger asked.
Margaret’s eyebrows raised. Was she imagining this?
Did Roger McKinley ask her to dance? Surely she was mistaken.
But Roger was holding out his hand, and Margaret was certain she wasn’t blind—not anymore at least. She surrendered, placing her hand in his.
His hands practically covered her own with his broad fingers and palm.
Roger led her onto the dance floor, weaving through the couples.
Margaret almost lost her breath as Roger wrapped his arm around her waist then took her free hand.
Steadying herself—and praying he wouldn’t notice her nervousness—Margaret placed her hand on his shoulder.
Then Roger took the lead, making Margaret’s world spin round and round as she experienced the magical moment taking place.
She enjoyed dancing, but she never had this much. So, this is what a fairytale feels like. It was never this way with Eugene. Dancing with him had been an act of gentlemanly courtesy, a relief to Margaret instead of avoiding embarrassment from the competing suitors. This—this was different.
“I never thought you to be a dancer,” Margaret said.
Roger chuckled. “I never have been.”
“Then why now?”
“Because,” Roger started. “I’m beginning to feel again.”
Margaret’s eyebrows rose. “Feel?”
Roger sighed. “Before the war, I was going to school to get my master’s degree.
I had one semester left when I enlisted.
I wanted to be an English professor. I spent hours writing poetry, and before the war, I had written at least eight anthologies.
But . . .” Roger looked down at their feet as his voice faded.
“I can’t feel anymore. My life is dark, and I am numb to everything. ”
Margaret shook her head, and Roger’s dreary eyes met hers. “I don’t believe that one bit, Roger. In the past two weeks, I have seen you change and grow.”
Roger flushed. “I believe I have, but I can’t be too sure. I’m frightened I will never heal, as your father said to me last week. He said we will always relive the horrors.”
“He is right,” Margaret said. “But we all can ask the Lord for help.”
Roger’s eyebrows raised. “You believe that?”
Margaret believed in God’s power for healing, and He was transforming her life for the better. She had thought all was lost when she arrived in Richmond, yet now she believed it was just the beginning, starting with her healing. “I do. I believe that with all my heart.”
“I’ve lost all faith and hope, but I pray that I can be like you, Margaret. You’re very strong from what I see. You should give yourself more credit.”
Warmth flowed through Margaret. She never saw herself as strong. But perhaps she could be.
Spending over an hour in Roger’s arms felt unreal. After working through their differences, he had become gentler and livelier. Roger was no longer grumpy and cold. It was as though a beam of light was exploding out of him.
It wasn’t long until Margaret realized Marjorie and Graydon had left with Sidney, leaving her stranded with Roger.
However, she didn’t have an issue with it.
Despite Roger disrupting her plans to secure her fortune, she couldn’t help but want to stay in the moment forever.
She’d have two more weeks until her birthday, but she had those weeks to live, too. Then she’d have a decision to make.
But was it right to lead Roger on like this? Perhaps he saw her merely as a friend; however, could she be so sure? A connection between them existed, stronger than the one she had shared with Eugene the night of the ball. With Roger, she felt as though her freedom had been returned to her.
When Roger drove Margaret home, a still quietness settled between them, one Margaret had grown to love. Being with Roger felt peaceful, with nothing standing in their way.
“What are you thinking about?” Roger asked, his hands on the steering wheel. His lips curved into a crooked grin.
“Nothing much.”
Roger chuckled. “You? Margaret Nicholson’s mind is blank? I must say, I do not believe it.”
“A woman never shares her private thoughts.”
“I haven’t known you never to voice your opinion.”
Margaret crossed her arms over her chest. “Perhaps I have changed.”
“Haven’t we all?”
A minute later, they pulled through Maplebrook Manor’s iron gate and down the maple alleyway.
Margaret’s heart dropped, realizing their night had ended, but a small voice reminded her this couldn’t go on.
But how could she just pretend these moments with Roger and the feelings she had never happened?
How could she simply push them away and marry another man?
The automobile stopped, and Roger opened Margaret’s door. His hand went behind her back, steadying her. His touch sent shivers down her spine, good shivers. She wished his hand would stay there, but it pulled away, and Margaret was standing in front of him.
Roger put his hands into his pockets. “Well, I guess this is goodnight,” he said with a solemn tone.