you disliked the other.”
“How dreadful of you to break our confidences in this manner,” Margaret said, laughing.
“I’m a shocking man.” He was mixing his shaving cream in a cup with a brush now. She had not known men required so many shiny and specific instruments for their toilet. Theo was wonderfully meticulous. She particularly enjoyed watching the long, smooth slide of his muscles under the skin of his back. Perhaps she should have returned to bed.
She sighed and responded to his question. “Your mother disliked me because she thought I sought to take her son from her and then because she thought I broke his heart. Now the war takes you from us both, and your heart has mended. With the war as a common enemy, she and I will find a way. I don’t know how to have a mother; she doesn’t know how to have a daughter. We’ll muddle through together.”
“I may return very soon.”
“Do you think it will be so?”
He shrugged. “The papers argue a long war is impossible. That the Union’s resources are so superior to those of the states in rebellion we will crush them and return to normalcy before winter.” His tone was measured but dry, as if he were reciting from the newspaper by rote.
“I’ve read so, but I take it you doubt this view.”
“That’s not how the civil wars in Europe have played out.” He washed his face and patted himself dry with a towel. “Walk out with me,” he said, his voice thick with meaning. Margaret nodded, dazed. Having a husband was very confusing.
• • •
Theo had to remind himself to slow down on the stairs several times so as not to rush his wife. Marriage would require many adjustments.
As they crossed the lobby, the clerk at the desk smiled and nodded at them. “Good morning, Mr. Ward, Mrs. Ward.”
His gripped Margaret’s arm tighter. She was
his
. He wasn’t sure what all that damn fool business about not believing in love was, but as Margaret slept in his arms last night, he had decided he wanted to put an end to that charade. Life with her would never be restful, but he’d had enough rest in his life. She was meant for him and he for her.
As much as she might want to deny it, she came alive when he touched her. She might bury her feelings, but her body whispered a different tale. While he was looking forward to his departure in some ways, months of nights without Margaret was a cold, dark possibility. Having finally started to live his life, he wanted to quaff deeply everything he had merely sipped before. But living away from her — however long it was necessary to do so — was an unfortunate condition of having a war motivate one to change.
Several blocks later, he exerted a warm pressure on her arm and she turned and looked up at him, puzzled. They had reached his office. Theo lifted her gloved hand to his mouth and kissed each of her knuckles before turning her hand over and pressing his mouth to her palm. He inhaled. Lavender and lemon verbena. That ever-present Margaret combination of floral and citrus, sweet and tart.
He would spend the morning counting the hours until they were together again. Finally, he released her hand and looked deeply into her gold-brown eyes. “I hope you have a pleasant morning, Mrs. Ward.”
She appeared amused and, he hoped, perhaps as overwhelmed by him as he was by her. “You also, Mr. Ward,” she replied.
“Until luncheon.” He released her hand with regret and opened the door.
Inside his clerks, Marcus and Anson, were already hard at work — or at least they’d managed to turn from the spectacle he had been making of himself over Margaret and back to their copying in time to avoid his eyes. He crossed to his desk, set down his valise, and tried to put his wife from his head. The more quickly he could wrap up his business, the more time he could spend with her before he departed.
Josiah came into the main office from his own private enclave and leaned against the door. The old man watched
“How dreadful of you to break our confidences in this manner,” Margaret said, laughing.
“I’m a shocking man.” He was mixing his shaving cream in a cup with a brush now. She had not known men required so many shiny and specific instruments for their toilet. Theo was wonderfully meticulous. She particularly enjoyed watching the long, smooth slide of his muscles under the skin of his back. Perhaps she should have returned to bed.
She sighed and responded to his question. “Your mother disliked me because she thought I sought to take her son from her and then because she thought I broke his heart. Now the war takes you from us both, and your heart has mended. With the war as a common enemy, she and I will find a way. I don’t know how to have a mother; she doesn’t know how to have a daughter. We’ll muddle through together.”
“I may return very soon.”
“Do you think it will be so?”
He shrugged. “The papers argue a long war is impossible. That the Union’s resources are so superior to those of the states in rebellion we will crush them and return to normalcy before winter.” His tone was measured but dry, as if he were reciting from the newspaper by rote.
“I’ve read so, but I take it you doubt this view.”
“That’s not how the civil wars in Europe have played out.” He washed his face and patted himself dry with a towel. “Walk out with me,” he said, his voice thick with meaning. Margaret nodded, dazed. Having a husband was very confusing.
• • •
Theo had to remind himself to slow down on the stairs several times so as not to rush his wife. Marriage would require many adjustments.
As they crossed the lobby, the clerk at the desk smiled and nodded at them. “Good morning, Mr. Ward, Mrs. Ward.”
His gripped Margaret’s arm tighter. She was
his
. He wasn’t sure what all that damn fool business about not believing in love was, but as Margaret slept in his arms last night, he had decided he wanted to put an end to that charade. Life with her would never be restful, but he’d had enough rest in his life. She was meant for him and he for her.
As much as she might want to deny it, she came alive when he touched her. She might bury her feelings, but her body whispered a different tale. While he was looking forward to his departure in some ways, months of nights without Margaret was a cold, dark possibility. Having finally started to live his life, he wanted to quaff deeply everything he had merely sipped before. But living away from her — however long it was necessary to do so — was an unfortunate condition of having a war motivate one to change.
Several blocks later, he exerted a warm pressure on her arm and she turned and looked up at him, puzzled. They had reached his office. Theo lifted her gloved hand to his mouth and kissed each of her knuckles before turning her hand over and pressing his mouth to her palm. He inhaled. Lavender and lemon verbena. That ever-present Margaret combination of floral and citrus, sweet and tart.
He would spend the morning counting the hours until they were together again. Finally, he released her hand and looked deeply into her gold-brown eyes. “I hope you have a pleasant morning, Mrs. Ward.”
She appeared amused and, he hoped, perhaps as overwhelmed by him as he was by her. “You also, Mr. Ward,” she replied.
“Until luncheon.” He released her hand with regret and opened the door.
Inside his clerks, Marcus and Anson, were already hard at work — or at least they’d managed to turn from the spectacle he had been making of himself over Margaret and back to their copying in time to avoid his eyes. He crossed to his desk, set down his valise, and tried to put his wife from his head. The more quickly he could wrap up his business, the more time he could spend with her before he departed.
Josiah came into the main office from his own private enclave and leaned against the door. The old man watched
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