3
"Loveliness," Betsy sighed when she pulled the long, deep blue gown from Margaret's largest carryall. "He's going to flip when he sees you in this."
She knew instantly who the he was. "I can't imagine Charles ever flipping over anything. Not even me, ha-ha."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
"Aunt Betsy, what is it with your optimism with Charles and I? The only thing between us is that we knew each other, we worked together over in Korea."
"It's just how things are progressing is all." Betsy nodded and let it drop at that time and continued to assist Margaret in getting settled in. Although, Mrs. Harwell had a strong feeling that they would again explore the subject of Dr. Charles Winchester, the third. On the evening of the fundraiser dance, Margaret was so glad her dad had chosen his dress uniform to wear. She never lost her awe of seeing him in it.
Upon watching Charles stare exclusively at the group that had recently emerged into the great hall, Honoria felt a little malicious as she leaned close to her brother. "So that is who you have been looking for? That's Margaret, as in Margaret Houlihan, I'm guessing?"
"Yes, it's Margaret Houlihan and her family. Although, I do not believe I was looking for anyone in particular." Charles cleared his throat. "It is good that she could come, they all could come. But dear sister, I wasn't actually looking for her, or as I said, for anyone."
'Oh sure you weren't.' Honoria thought when Charles bid adieu to her in effort to mingle around. She knew, just give him a tiny bit of time, and he would be making his way over towards Margaret.
Honoria's theory proved correct, for it hadn't been very long until her brother was slowly approaching the Harwell/Houlihan party. Robert Harwell greeted Charles with a big grin and hearty handshake while his wife smiled and watched for Margaret's reaction. Which turned out to be one of a cool air. Bob took up the initiative and introduced Charles to Alvin Houlihan.
"That's right, you were one of the medical personnel that served with my daughter over there at the 4077th. Didn't you go to Harvard, or was it Yale?"
"Harvard," Charles retorted gentler than he usually did at the assumption. His gaze switched to Margaret and he held out a hand. "Dance?" Then returned to Alvin. "If it be all right with you, sir."
"Fine with me."
Margaret glanced between Charles and her dad. "This is all well and good for the decision to be made for me, but I'm not sure if I want to at the moment."
She was secure with her reply until her father spoke up. "Goodness, Margaret dance with the man."
Of course neither Bob nor Betsy were going to be on her side. "Go on, Margaret." Harwell urged, while Betsy had too much of a gloat about her.
"I'm out-numbered as usual."
"Looks that way," Charles replied with that too surefire ease.
The dance began with a beautiful melody. Charles took Margaret in hand and brought her in close. She let that pass for several minutes. Then felt the need to she voice her awareness. "Is this proper etiquette? For Boston, or Harvard, or for Winchester in general?"
"Yes, I believe so. We are both attired accordingly to the occasion. This step we are doing is appropriate for this music. We're not doing the jitterbug to Haydn's Symphony #104 in D Major. Fitting for us, wouldn't you agree?"
"Ah, cute joke, but I believe we're a little close." Margaret slowly leaned back to look up at him. "Than most everyone else."
"Frankly, I hadn't noticed any of the others," Charles murmured beneath his breath. "Are you afraid that chaperones will come out of the woodwork to reprimand us?"
"No, that's not it!"
He pulled back from her ever so slight, while decided not to inquire just what was it. "Better?"
"A little." She again beamed up to him, wanted him to believe that her main concern with the behavior was with what was proper. But she had a the feeling he saw right through her ruse. "I must hand it to you, though."
"Hand what?"
"Being cool with my father's goading. I know you were just chomping at the bit to yell It's Harvard! to the rafters."
"Nonsense."
"I know he appreciated you addressing him as you did, in the first place. He still sees us as his little girls, both my sister and I."
Although no chaperones were there to get after them, a few interested gazes were being directed their way. "Honoria? Do you know who the girl Charles is dancing with now?"
"Mother, I believe that is Margaret Houlihan."
"Margaret Houlihan?" Mrs. Winchester repeated. "Oh, the nurse that was in Korea with him? Isn't she Colonel and Mrs. Houlihan's daughter?"
"That is her, all right." Honoria enthusiastically nodded. "And as you know, she's the one he often spoke of in those recordings he sent home."
Mrs. Winchester shot her daughter a sly glance. "You seem very pleased with this situation, my dear."
"Perhaps." Honoria gloried in her accuracy when she witnessed the deep glances Charles and Margaret would throw toward each other while dancing with others. With Margaret receiving more invites from partners than Charles extended to any potentials.
During one of her outings on the dance floor, Margaret casually glimpsed around for her father and the Harwells. She found them on the other side of the hall, conversing with a group of influential-looking people. She knew in an instant that the others must be Charles' parents and his sister. Robert Harwell caught her stunned gaze and winked at her, and her dad was busy in a lively conversation with both Mr. and Mrs. Winchester. Margaret couldn't believe it.
When the song finally began to fade into its ending, Margaret broke with her dance partner, and turned to make her way over to where her dad, both her uncle and aunt and the Winchesters were. She wasn't sure of the meeting, but felt it to be rude not to make the effort. She hadn't taken two steps before someone else abruptly stepped into her path.
"Margaret," Charles held out a hand to her. "Will you come and meet my parents and sister?"
"Of course, that's where I was headed, anyhow."
Along with the Winchester family, whom she found a little more open than previously informed, Margaret got to meet with some of the people from Boston Mercy hospital. Including Janice Norton, who was the Director of Emergency Nursing. She felt a kinship with Janice as they talked shop, and she was about to inquire of their triage routine when she suddenly felt someone come close to her ear. "Shall we again?" The voice was unmistakable.
"All right," Margaret excused herself, and took his offered hand. Charles led them out amongst the crowd as the next tune started up. "Now don't get me wrong, this is very nice, but don't you have a bevy of eager debutantes, socialites, what have you, waiting with baited breath?" She chided teasingly. "I mean, little ol' me has been graced not once, but three times now."
"Perhaps. Although, I'm not really the one that has had their dance card filled to capacity."
"It sure hasn't been! I've only been dancing a few times. It's just that you haven't been out here on the floor very much." Margaret closed her eyes with the end of her statement. She was caught, and by the cheshire-cat grin that lit his face, Charles knew it, too. He was quite amused with how she had taken notice of his activities, or lack thereof. "Oh you can smirk if you.." She slowly realized that he must have paid quite a bit of attention to her as well. Oh how she'd love to call him on it, but chose not to get in deeper. She set her mind to just enjoy the dance, and tolerate the arrogant company. Made even more difficult by the abrupt brush into him. "You're doing it again."
Charles took a step back. "Pardon me, I thought you rather preferred closeness."
"Referring to what? I reminded you earlier that.." Margaret came suddenly aware of his little insinuation. "Pardon me, but it's a must in certain circumstances, and not in others."
"Oh that's true. Circumstances such as alledged foreign matters in the eye are quite distressing, and calls for immediate close-up examinations."
"Alledged? There wasn't anything alledged about my distress."
"I assisted the best I could. Why, if Father Mulcahy had not of come in, I would have had what was irritating your eye taken quick care of."
Margaret clenched her teeth. "I'll tell you what is irritating."
"I'm sure you shall." With perfect smugness and precision, Charles gripped her tighter to himself in spite of it all, and turned her with a flourish around the floor. Margaret really enjoyed the move, and the effort of hiding it from him wasn't easy.
Breakfast the next morning was a lively time at the Harwell's kitchen table. Something was abuzz, Margaret sensed it. She so hoped it wouldn't be a critique of the previous evening. Especially not with her father there. "Since we're all here, it's no time like the present. Margaret, there's something we would like to propose to you."
"Sure, what is it?" She steeled herself and looked puzzling between Bob and Betsy, then back to her dad, who gave a shrug. "What is going on?"
Bob waited, then glanced at his wife for a moment. "I guess the best thing is to plunge right in?" Betsy nodded as she put the tea kettle on the stove. "Here goes. Margaret, how would you like to come here? To live, and to work here at Boston Mercy."
"What? What do you mean?" Flabbergasted was an understatement for what Margaret was feeling at the time. "Live and work here in Boston?"
"Yes, you met Janice Norton, the Director of Emergency Nursing at Boston Mercy last night? Well, she's been wanting to leave and move to Green Bay, Wisconsin. I don't know if she shared this with you. Her husband has received a great job opportunity there, and so that's going to leave a vacancy for her position. What do you think?"
"I don't know what to think. To move here? And live here?" She looked to her father. "Dad, what's your opinion?"
"Well, if the progress of your advancement in the service is, as you put it, on hold for a while, I will say this might be a good opportunity for you. With Robert and Betsy here, and especially seeing how much you love and are good what you do. It's your decision."
"Thank you. Although, for the living part of it, I'd have to begin to hunt for a place and.."
Betsy spoke up. "No, you'd be here. We were planned on you staying on here as long as you wish, or indefinitely."
"This is a whole lot to consider."
"Margaret, please forgive me if I'm overstepping my bounds here, but you indicated that you weren't entirely happy and satisfied at the Walter Reed medical facility." Robert Harwell proceeded with care. "I'm not saying that Boston Mercy will be a bed of roses at least all the time, but I have a strong feeling you'll fit in perfectly. Since you weren't due back in D.C. until tomorrow anyways, we thought perhaps you would like to tour the Emergency unit this afternoon."
"Okay," Margaret smiled encouragingly. "I can do that."
She dared not to bring the topic up to Bob and Betsy, and especially not her father, but the thought crossed her mind of what Charles' reaction would be to her staying in Boston, and mostly working at Boston Mercy. Would he think it was such a good idea? The more Margaret reflected on that, the more she thought he'd have to be the one to deal with it, if he found it to be a problem, because it wasn't about him.
Early that afternoon, Alvin Houlihan was ready to get on the road back to Fort Dix. He and Margaret had a tearful goodbye, with a promise of another visit sometime soon. "Appreciate everything, Bob, Betsy," the retired Colonel shook hands.
"Don't make the time so far apart, Alvin."
"I'll try not to, but with the Army, you never know. Even with retired colonels." Houlihan said, then turned to his daughter. "Be careful going back, and I'll call you soon. Call your mother. She'll want to know." He went to bring her into an embrace. "Margaret, I think this is a good choice."
"Yeah? Thanks, and I'll give her a call. I love you, dad," She hugged him. Then after a couple of final waves, he started the car and pulled it out of the driveway, quickly vanishing around the curve. It never changed when she would watch her father leave. Margaret always got the same melancholy feeling.
Then the rest of the afternoon was taken up with a journey to the much revered Boston Mercy. She got to meet with Janice Norton again, and discovered that the nurse's desire to transfer was legitimate. The position would actually be open. Her Uncle Bob tried to goad her into touring other units like they had done in Albany, but Margaret stuck around in effort to begin to meet as much of the staff there and learn the Emergency Unit as much as she could. Head Nurse Norton won Margaret over greatly with the efficiency and devotion in the way she ran things. Her staff possessed the same dedication and caring, for Norton would accept no less.
Just as her Aunt Betsy vehemently assured her, she and her Uncle Bob were the ones who took Margaret back to the airport. She thought long and hard on the concept of returning to Boston, and actually living and working there. Did she really want that big of a step, especially so soon after getting established at Walter Reed? Yes she did. Once the plane touched down in D.C., her choice was made.
Parting from the Walter Reed Medical Center didn't turn out as bitter as Margaret feared. If there had been any ill will, it wasn't evident and things were handled in a professional manner. She was secure in the knowledge that the resident charge nurse would temporarily take over the position until someone else could be hired, or perhaps she'd be working into it herself. Anyways, all worked out fine at that end.
