19. Chapter Nineteen #3
Mama lifted her chin. “Speak to them before you make a decision. You have two choices—follow your heart or submit to your grandmama’s plan.”
Margaret nodded. “I will.”
Mama cupped Margaret’s face and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Margaret. Always remember that.”
“I love you, too, Mama.”
She had thought it best to keep the will a secret from her sisters.
Margaret had many chances to do so but avoided it.
She had always told her sisters everything.
She counted having a job as a relief, an easy escape to avoid them.
Margaret didn’t understand why she couldn’t just tell them.
They had a right to know. Perhaps she was frightened by their reaction .
. . or perhaps she didn’t want to admit the secret to herself.
Roger’s heart had been fluttering ever since he kissed the lips of Margaret Nicholson—or perhaps the kiss Margaret had given him. He never planned to confess his feelings out of the blue. He couldn’t hold them in any longer, even though it could ruin everything for them. Or so he thought.
Margaret wanted him. She proved that as she laid a kiss upon his lips and accepted each and every one he gave.
Holding her in his arms melted the ice from his bones.
For once, Roger could fully feel. His world was coming back.
Margaret was the inspiration he needed to obtain his voice.
Each time he looked at her, a melody of words swarmed through him—ones that were too powerful to write in time.
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.
Roger ran his fingers through his hair and smiled.
He imagined Margaret’s sweet face, her eyes glowing when she smiled, her soft touch against his skin.
Oh, how Margaret was driving him mad. The only way Roger could truly express his feelings was through poetry.
He thought again how he might describe her.
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.
Roger reached beneath his seat and retrieved his notepad. He slowed his speed, and with the light from the moon, he wrote the words that kept flowing through him.
In the tapestry of time, our destinies entwine, sweet Margaret so divine, forever, you are mine.
Roger sighed deeply in relief. He was himself again.
He was Roger McKinley. He set down the notepad and sped along the road, whistling a cheerful tune.
He chuckled as the song “The Sunshine of Your Smile” came to his mind, making him think about Margaret.
Oh, how he adored John McCormack, and hearing the woman at the club singing his songs, Roger couldn’t help but ask Margaret to dance then.
“Give me your smile, the love-light in your eyes, Life could not hold a fairer Paradise,” he sang. His voice was raspy and soft, but it was the first time he had sang in years.
Then he stopped as he saw headlights ahead. As he approached, he noticed the automobile wasn’t moving. Roger had experience with motorcar repair, especially having a friend who was a mechanic and racer. Perhaps he could be of some use.
Pulling over, he noticed no driver was nearby. The person couldn’t have gone too far unless someone picked them up. Being a good Samaritan, Roger stepped out and walked towards the abandoned vehicle.
“Hello?”
No answer came. Roger continued to investigate. He opened the vehicle door and found no sign of life. It was clean, as though it had just bought off a lot. Roger stepped back and closed the door. He shook his head and continued to sing the rest of the tune.
“Give me the right to love you all the while, my world for ever, the sunshine of your smile.”
Suddenly, a force slammed against Roger’s head, jolting him violently into the side of the vehicle.
His head was spinning and a pulse was present, pounding hard against his skull.
It took a moment for Roger to stand. His vision blurred.
Yet, through the haze of confusion, he managed to focus just in time to see the shadowy figure of his attacker poised to strike once more.
Reacting on pure instinct, Roger ducked, narrowly avoiding the crowbar swinging towards him.
With a swift move, he wrestled the weapon from the attacker’s grasp, hurling it into the nearby field.
The assailant lunged forward, but Roger was ready.
He countered the force, grappling with the assailant, his adrenaline surging.
Fists flew as he landed blow after blow, each punch fueled by fury and desperation.
The man grunted and fell backward. Roger seized him by the collar, pinning him against the motorcar.
“Who are you? Who sent you?” he demanded.
But another blow struck the back of Roger's head, sending him spiraling into darkness. The world faded away as consciousness slipped from his grasp.