As Bright as Heaven(83)

I want to answer that he is not just asking if I love him; he is asking if I love him more than I love my home, my family, and my memories of the only life I’ve known. He is asking if I will leave it all for him. And I wonder if he would do the same for me.

“What if I asked you to stay?” The words come out of my mouth soft as gauze.

“What was that?”

“If I asked you to stay here with me, in Philadelphia, would you?”

He blinks, but his gaze never leaves mine. “You want me to decline the job?”

“No, I don’t. I just want to know if you would if I asked you to.”

“To marry you and live here?”

My heart is pounding at the thought. “Yes.”

He puts his hands around my waist and draws me to him even though we are on the street and passersby are surely staring. “If you asked me, I would stay.”

And then his mouth meets mine in a kiss. He has kissed me a few times before, but this is the first that hints of a greater passion, a deeper longing. An ache low in my gut nearly takes my breath away.

I could lose myself in this feeling and never want to be found, but I pull back before it sweeps me away.

Palmer is saying he loves me enough to turn down the job and stay here in Philadelphia. Maybe he does. Surely the woman deserving of that kind of love should cherish him enough to go with him to New York. I cannot ask him to give up the new job when I’m not sure yet that I do love him like that, only that I want to.

“I don’t want you to decline the job.”

He leans his forehead against mine. “Then marry me. Come with me.”

“Will you let me think on it? Please?”

This time he kisses my temple before pulling back. “Yes. But I must leave before the end of the month. And I wish to speak to your father before I go. I can find a place for us and then come back for you and Alex.”

I can only nod as again my voice has escaped me.

He takes my arm, smiling down on me. “Come. I’ll take you home.”

As we walk, Palmer tells me about the new position in Manhattan and about the legendary locale itself. It is small talk I appreciate because it leaves me free to quietly disengage to contemplate the choice I must make.

When we arrive at the house, he walks me up the stoop stairs and kisses my hand. “We could have a wonderful life together, Maggie. You and I. Alex, too.”

I nod and say nothing.

“Good night, my darling.” He steps away to hail a passing cab and then turns to smile at me as he gets inside it.

When I step into the house, I am enfolded by all that is comfortable and dear to me, and I at once feel the tugging of the two lives that beckon: the one I have and the one being offered me. I hear music in the sitting room. Willa is at the piano, singing and playing—something she is doing a lot these days. She seems lost in her beautiful music, playing as if to charm demons into benevolent supplicants. I cross the foyer to peer inside and I see Papa and Alex involved in a chess game. Papa is explaining all the moves and Alex is listening with rapt attention, fingering the ebony horse head of one of the knights. Behind me on the other side of the entry, I hear Evie in the kitchen at the sink. Everyone is home tonight. Even Mama’s presence seems to warm the house as everyone goes about the evening’s activities. It’s as if she is right there, sitting in the armchair with a book. I long to tell someone what Palmer asked of me. My heart is bursting with the need to share it.

I imagine telling Papa and him being both happy and sad, and then the look on his face when I tell him I want Alex to come with me. Or telling Alex and having him stare up at me with equal parts excitement and apprehension and responding wide-eyed with “We’re leaving?” I look to Willa and imagine telling her and hearing her say I’m selfish to even suggest taking Alex. Then I look at the armchair by the fireplace, and its emptiness pierces me.

I turn toward the kitchen, knowing it is Evie I must talk to first. Wise Evie.

I make my way quietly to the kitchen so that the others in the sitting room will not hear that I’m home from being out with Palmer. Evie is drying her hands on a towel. The carcass of the chicken I had put in the oven earlier for their dinner still lies on its platter, now picked of its meat and ready to be thrown out.

She turns toward me. “Did you have a nice meal?” She looks tired. I cannot guess how many hours she spends at that asylum every week.

“I did.”

Evie nods and picks up the teakettle. “Care for some?”

“Yes. Please.”

She fills the kettle from the tap at the sink. As she sets it on the flame, I tell her. “Palmer is taking a new job in New York. He wants me to go with him.”

Evie turns her head, an eyebrow raised.

“He wants to marry me.”

For several seconds my sister says nothing. She is thinking. This is Evie’s way, and it’s why I’ve come to her instead of anyone else. She doesn’t hear that I’ve said Palmer has asked me to marry him; she hears what I’m really saying. She hears that I don’t know how I feel about Palmer and his proposal.

“Do you love him?” she asks.

“I might. I’m not entirely sure.”

Evie reaches for the tea tin in the cupboard. “What did you tell him?”

“That I need some time to think.”

“And what about Alex?”