Page 94 of The Number of Love
Instead of a clock, she became aware of a different type of face. One pinched, shadowed, and pale. Dot’s hands were clenched too. And still shaking. “Morning.”
Margot shoved her hair out of her face, wincing at the snarls in it. It felt strange, like it wasn’t at the right angles. She tried to force it flat with her fingers. “Morning. What time is it? Are they there yet? Do you know?”
“They made it to the airfield an hour ago.” Dot swallowed andmoved her hands just a bit, enough to reveal the rosary beads clutched within them. “I’m handing in my resignation today.”
“What?” Margot swung her legs, tangled in a blanket, off the couch. “Dot, no.”
“I can’t do it anymore, Margot. I had to stop twice on the way here—I couldn’t breathe, my vision was spotty. ... I can’t be here now. I need to go home. It’s time to go home.”
“Dot.” She scooted forward, toward the chair where her friend sat. “You’re shaken. Last night was horrible. But the fear will pass. Just stick it out—”
“I don’t want to stick it out!” Dot sprang to her feet, chest heaving. Breath rasping. “And I don’thaveto. Red and I are going to get married. Soon. I don’t have to work here anymore. I don’t have to go out every day and—”
“You can’t just resign your position and marry him!” Margot tried to stand, too, though the blanket sent her back to the cushions. She pulled it off, tossed it to the end of the couch, and tried again. “Yesterday you were wondering if he even meant to propose and saying how quickly it had all happened—andresigning? You’ve worked hard to learn the job, and you’re good at it.”
Dot backed up a step. “I’m not like you, Margot. I don’twantto work. I just want to get married, have a family. Maybe that makes me stupid in your mind, but—”
“I have never thought that of you. Never.” She held out a hand, wondering why it seemed to repulse her friend like the wrong side of a magnet and send her another step toward the door. “I know you want to get married. I’m not saying you shouldn’t—”
“Just that I shouldn’t give up my position? Is that it? Will I be less in your eyes if I decide to stay at home and take care of my husband?” With a shaky laugh, she slashed a hand through the air, her rosary beads whipping around her wrist. “Will I be wasting my life, is that what you think? Because heaven knows you seem to think you’ll be wastingyoursif you dare to let my brother be a part of it.”
Maybe it was the sleep still clouding her mind, but that did notseem like the next logical step in the argument. “Why are we talking about Drake?”
Dot stared at her. Glared at her. “Honestly? You ask that? Don’t you know how he feels about you, or are you too wrapped up in your own little world of numbers to even care?”
Margot gripped the edge of the admiral’s desk. “Of course I know how he feels.”
“It means nothing to you, then? Because it doesn’t fit into the plans you had mapped out for your life?” Dot shook her head. “Go back to sleep, Margot. Get up and solve your puzzles, write out your numbers. I’m going to go home and plan my wedding. Don’t feel obligated to drop in, it would only bore you.”
Margot opened her mouth, but she didn’t know which thing to rebut first. The spoken accusations, or the unspoken one? Dot had obviously never entertained the notion that Margotdidlove Drake. That was apparently unfathomable. Oblivion or scoffing, those seemed to be the options her best friend had considered for her.
Dot had her hand on the doorknob, and enough panicked energy probably fired her veins to carry her out and home without a moment’s thought.
And Margot didn’t know what to say. None of the answers she could give would mean a thing to her friend just now.
But maybe a question would. “Dot.”
She paused with the door open, glaring over her shoulder. Furious. Hurting. Scared.
Drake had been right. Having courage didn’t mean the fear wasn’t always there, ready to pounce. She swallowed. “Will you want to marry him any less tomorrow? Must you make a decision today?”
The door slammed behind her.
Margot sighed and sank back onto the couch. Wrong question, apparently. She buried her fingers in her already-mussed hair and knotted them there. Why was she so miserable at this? She hadn’t had such troubles with Claudette when they were girls. She got on fine with Willa and her sisters. She’d thought she and Dot had established a solid friendship too. The kind that could stand a fewtests and trials. The kind that would be there through the storms. The kind that tried to understand, not to judge.
“It means nothing to you.”She drew a breath in, let it out.Heknew. Drake knew it meant something. He’d understood last night that the tangle of feelings inside her couldn’t be put into regular language. He’d known what she meant. ThatEighteenwasI love you.
Why couldn’t Dot understand it too? Had Margot been such a bad friend, shown so little of herself? She thought she’d been honest. Showed her who she really was and been accepted. Maybe she’d been wrong.
Eighteen.
Memory? A fresh command? She rose and moved to DID’s window, where she could look out across the parade grounds. Folding her arms across her middle, clasping her opposite elbows, she tried. Shetried.
God...
Her chest hurt. And her hair felt wrong. And the windowpane, when she rested her forehead against it, was so very cold.
Father...
