She could have stayed all afternoon, learning about his tropical fields, but she had responsibilities in town. Elaine was depending on her.
“I should go,” she said.
“Do you have to?”
Her gaze locked with his. Despite his haggard appearance and illness, it seemed he genuinely wanted her to stay. She wished she could, but Elaine was waiting.
“I have responsibilities,” she said, standing to slide the specimen pages back into the portfolio. “I hope you will keep the map.”
He rolled it up and pushed it toward her. “It’s yours.”
“Oh, please keep it. I can’t imagine anyone who would appreciate the world of the spice trade as much as you. Even if the mapmaker got his cloves wrong.”
He stood more carefully this time, bracing a hand on the desk as he slowly pushed to his feet. “I don’t like to be indebted. I’veenjoyed your visit, but you must understand that I am violently opposed to sharing anything with the Smithsonian. It will never happen, so I’d feel better if you took your map back.”
She leaned over to pick up her portfolio. She’d lingered far too long as it was, but she wasn’t going to leave with that map. It had cracked open the door to his world, and shewantedhim to feel indebted, even if only for a foolish trinket.
“It’s yours,” she said simply. “Do with it as you like.”
She felt his gaze on her back as she walked down the hallway and out the door. Her heart pounded the entire way, partly from her minor victory, but mostly from something else she was afraid to name.
Annabelle silently urged the streetcar to move faster as it traveled down Second Street toward the Library of Congress, where her sister volunteered five days a week. It was this chance for Elaine to do productive work that had brought them both from the heartland of Kansas all the way to the nation’s capital. Only two months earlier, neither of them had traveled more than fifty miles from the farm where they’d been born.
Now they had ventured across the country, found and leased their own apartment, learned to use the streetcar system, and were embarking on a new way of life. Annabelle prayed it would be the answer for Elaine. If this didn’t work, she wasn’t sure what else could be done to save her adored older sister.
Annabelle bit her lip as the streetcar made yet another stop at East Capitol Street. So many people getting on and off! She was already forty minutes late picking up Elaine, and she silently urged the two jabbering businessmen to hurry up and disembark.
At last the streetcar was on its way, and Annabelle grabbed the hold bar as she moved to the front so she could be first off at the next stop. Elaine must be out of her mind with worry bynow. So far their system had worked quite well, for the Smithsonian was only a few blocks from the Library of Congress. Annabelle escorted Elaine to work each morning and picked her up at the end of the day, but the trip to Alexandria had taken longer than expected.
A gust of relief escaped her when she saw Elaine waiting safely at the bench on the corner of Second and Independence Avenue. The streetcar door opened, and Annabelle was the first person off.
“I’m here, Elaine,” she called out the moment her feet touched the ground.
Elaine swiveled her head, her blue eyes staring sightlessly past Annabelle. “Oh, thank heavens,” she said on a shaky breath.
Forty minutes might not seem like a lot to a sighted person, but the city was a new and terrifying environment for Elaine. Instead of birdsong and wind rustling through wheat fields, the busy street corner had honking horns, rattling streetcars, and hucksters shouting their wares. Any move from the safety of the bench might send Elaine straight into the path of a streetcar or over the edge of the curb.
Annabelle joined her sister on the bench, taking her hand. “Were you all right?”
“Of course I was,” Elaine said. “One of the security guards walked me here at five o’clock. What time is it now?”
Annabelle glanced at her pocket watch. “Twenty minutes to six. Alexandria didn’t look that far away on the map. I’m so sorry.”
“Well ... it’s all right,” Elaine said after a pause. “At least I had a productive morning.”
“Tell me about it,” Annabelle coaxed. They still had a few minutes before the Green Line streetcar arrived, and she hoped conversation would divert Elaine’s thoughts from the frightening forty minutes she’d spent alone on a street corner.
“The Library of Congress bought a new brailler,” she reported.“The machine seems like a regular typewriter, but the keys are different. I’ve asked to be trained on how to use it. Then I can communicate on my own instead of asking you to write everything out for me.”
Annabelle’s smile was pained. She liked reading and writing for Elaine. It was little enough she could do to make up for the catastrophe that had befallen her sister. “I don’t mind,” she said.
“No, no,” Elaine insisted, a little of her old gumption coming to the fore. “I refuse to be any more of a burden than necessary. The more I can learn, the better off we’ll both be. But please...” She swallowed hard, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. “Please don’t ever leave me alone on a horrible bench like this again. You can’t imagine how awful it was.”
It was true, and another wave of guilt raced through Annabelle. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. If she lived to be a hundred, she could never apologize enough, for Elaine’s blindness was her fault.
Elaine squeezed Annabelle’s hand. “Don’t feel bad,” she said. “Even though I’m blind, I can tell there is regret all over your face. I’m fine,” she added in a reassuring voice. “It will only take me a little longer to get familiar with these loud city streets, and soon I’ll be using the streetcars without any help.” She flashed a smile. “I can do anything.Anything, Annabelle.”
But Elaine sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as Annabelle.
