Page 36 of The Number of Love
There was something else. Some other cause. Therehadto be. She didn’t know what, but she couldn’t shake the idea that somewhere in her mind lay the answer. That it wasn’t random at all, it was purposeful. Someone was to blame.
She stared, and she listened. She waited for God to speak, one way or another, through the numbers in her head. Beautiful proofs for aYes,pursue this. Unsolvable equations for aNo, this will get you nowhere.
He always spoke. Always. And she listened, because God was smarter than she was—the only being about whom she could say that with certainty. She didn’t always understand His ways, but she’d learned to trust them. Learned that when harmonious figures sang through her mind, she ought to act.
But there was nothing.Nothing. No yes or no. No stay or go.
God had gone silent.
She curled her fingers into her palm. Drew in a breath. Picked up her pencil. She didn’t need those numbers to do this work; she needed only time and half a brain. Finish this, then think of the other.
The last word finally found its place on the page a moment before Dot appeared at her elbow. “Ready?”
“Mm.” She stood and went a bit mechanically about her duties—tidy her desk, drop the handwritten decrypt into a basket for asecretary to type up, toss the original coded message into the bin to be filed with every other message they intercepted. Then she was shrugging into her coat and cinching the belt around her waist.
Visiting the hospital again wasn’t exactly something shewantedto do. She didn’t mind visiting with Lieutenant Elton—despite idiocy over his sister, he was a pleasant-enough chap to have a conversation with—but the hospital itself ... it had been worse than she’d thought it would be. Harder on her. But she couldn’t let that rule her.
Dot had proven herself a true friend last week. Margot would do the same.
Besides, going home to her empty flat wasn’t exactly appealing.
“Are you going to Mr. Herschell’s dinner party on Saturday?” Dot asked as they stepped out into the chilly air.
Margot glanced at her with what she hoped was a quelling look. “Why would I do that?”
Her friend chuckled. “Because everyone is invited, and from what I hear, he and Mr. Serocold will be performing for us. Sarah said they’re talented musicians, the both of them.”
Margot smiled. She could see musicians of far more talent whenever she pleased—she had only to tag along with Lukas and Willa. But Serocold and Herschell, two of the cryptographers,didhave talent, to be sure. Maman had dragged her to a similar dinner party over the summer.
Tedious thing. At least until she’d been on hand for one of the always-entertaining debates between Dilly Knox—confirmed atheist—and William Montgomery—who’d even come to said dinner party in his clerical robes.
To Dot she only said, “I don’t imagine I’ll want to attend, no.”
“It could be good for you. To get out and do something, I mean.” Her cheeks flushed, and Margot didn’t think it was from the sting of the wind. “I know I am a fine one to speak of the merits of getting out.”
“I am out every day.” Though come to think of it ... “Do you meanyouwant to go?”
“I don’t know. Iwon’t. I know I won’t. Not unless you needed the outing and required my company.”
A rather elementary equation, this. A single variable—Dot’s desires—combined with the known quantities of her fears and Margot’s presence. But the fears were substantial and negative, so the result would be too, unless the variable were large enough to overcome it. And the only way for Dot to make it so was to call upon her desire to be there for someone else. For Margot.
No, perhaps not so simple an equation. Because that same variable of Dot’s desires must be on the other side of the equal sign as well. Shewantedto go. Or at least, she wanted to want to go.
Margot didn’t. But she’d learned long ago that wants must often be sacrificed when it came to maintaining relationships. “I’ll think about it. See how I’m feeling on Thursday and Friday.”
Her throat no longer ached, but she was still rather exhausted by day’s end. A blessing that allowed her to fall into bed and go immediately to sleep without having to look overlong at the flat. At the closed door to Maman’s cupboard of a room. To all the empty places that should have been filled with laughter and chiding and French phrases.
She focused on the street that would lead them to Charing Cross Hospital and changed the subject. “How long do you suppose your brother will be in hospital?”
“The doctors said it will be weeks.” Dot sighed. “Drake will be gnawing at the bit long before then. Perhaps I’ll be able to convince them to release him to my care, since my flat isn’t far. I can set up Aunt Millie’s room for him.”
Margot hadn’t yet pieced together all the details of her friend’s family. Most of it, but there were still a few gaps. “Where does he usually stay when in London?”
“At a club, lately. He’d been attending university in Spain before the war, so after our father died, we agreed it was best to let the house, and I moved in with Aunt Millie.” She didn’t say with words how hard the change had been on her, but a wisp of it echoed in her eyes. She’d moved, she’d made a new home. She hadn’t been willing to do it again when Aunt Millie evacuated. “Drake wasn’t at home enough to warrant keeping a room for him.”
A Lord-inspired move, no doubt. Margot had already learned that their father’s shipping business, which her brother had planned to take over once he graduated, had suffered greatly in the first days of the war, with three-fourths of their vessels being struck by U-boats. Perhaps after the war they would rebuild the line, but that was hardly possible while Drake Elton was in the Royal Navy.
The hospital loomed large and quiet ahead of them. Margot could all but feel her remaining energy drain away another half a percent with every step she took.
