He kept digging into the cache, but the other books wereentirely different. There was a well-thumbed copy of Saint Augustine’sConfessionsand a fat book of commentary on the New Testament. Works by Thomas Aquinas and Martin Luther and copies of the Bible in Greek, Latin, and Aramaic. Tiny notes in the margin were all in Luke’s handwriting.
There was an accounting ledger going back several years, also in Luke’s hand. Far from proving his brother incompetent with money, this ledger reflected sophisticated bookkeeping. Gray carried it across the room, sitting on the bed to scan the entries carefully, and his heart sank. At long last, he knew where Luke had been spending his fortune all these years.
An orphanage in Baltimore; a tuberculosis clinic in Bethesda; a leper colony in Hawaii; and three families in Philadelphia. No wonder Luke never had any money. He was giving it all away.
Oh, Luke ... why are you still torturing yourself?
Gray dropped the accounting ledger and buried his face in his hands to pray and give thanks. Luke wasn’t a bad man. The proof of it was all in this cache. Although Luke had stumbled and become ensnared in some kind of treasonous scheme, it looked as though he was a man desperately seeking redemption.
And that was good, for Jesus promised there was no sin that could not be forgiven. Luke was struggling to find a way through the darkness and into a world of blazing hope and salvation. It was impossible to know what fate had in store for him, but his soul was on its way to being saved, and Gray couldn’t ask for more than that.
He knelt beside the hiding place to return the books. Almost everything here was proof of Luke’s decency and compassion, and what an irony that he worked so hard to hide it from the world. Luke was going to be all right. Maybe not in this life, but his restless struggle toward salvation had to count for something. God didn’t expect them to be perfect, only a valiant effort to try, and Luke had been trying.
Gray sat on the bed, staring at the open cache at his feet,shame washing over him. He hadn’t understood the real Luke for years. All he saw was the carefree bon vivant Luke wanted the world to see, not the tormented soul seeking redemption. Gray had entirely missed that.
Ever since his arrest, Luke had been sending the same message over and over, and Gray had ignored those messages too. Luke pleaded to be left alone. He told them not to worry. He said not to blame Annabelle. He had fired the attorneys Gray tried to hire, and refused to speak to American authorities. He hindered, stonewalled, and resisted all efforts of help. The only thing he didn’t do was try to earn his freedom. Was he in the middle of some sort of plan? Or was it a form of misguided penance for his sins?
Gray could never stop worrying about Luke or trying to win his freedom. The one thing he could do was take Luke’s wishes to heart and stop blaming Annabelle.
Forty-One
The journey back to Kansas would take three days, and they were beginning with an argument. Annabelle stood on the train station platform, trying to keep out of it as her parents argued about whether to exchange the tickets Gray had bought them for a cheaper version.
“We don’t need a private compartment,” Maude said. “We can save forty dollars by exchanging them for third-class tickets. Forty dollars!”
Roy didn’t look happy. “I’ve never ridden in a first-class compartment in my life, and unless we use these tickets, I never will.”
The bickering continued, but Annabelle couldn’t listen. Her gaze drifted to the skyline behind the depot, trying to memorize the details of the city. In a few days she would be back on the farm, and that would be a good thing, for there was no beauty in the world quite like Kansas. The sunflowers. The nights. The crickets. And thesky. The most awe-inspiring sight she’d ever see was the wide expanse of sky sheltering a million acres of golden wheat. She could be happy in Kansas. Shecould.
And it wasn’t as if she would never see Washington again. They would come back someday to see Elaine.
But she would never see Gray again. He would forever linger in her memory as her biggest regret. He was a man of courage, innovation, and dry, understated humor. She loved him and probably always would, but it was time to move on.
Roy scored a rare victory in the battle to keep their first-class tickets. When it was time to board, Annabelle entered the first-class car and followed the porter down the narrow, carpet-lined aisle to their compartment.
“Holy moly,” Roy said in admiration as they stepped inside. The compartment was lined in maple paneling. Two padded benches faced each other with a small table in between. They had a picture window all to themselves.
A menu for lunch was on the table, and Roy let out a low whistle as he scanned the options. There were no prices listed, but the porter assured them the meals came with their tickets. He took their orders and told them their meals would arrive about an hour into the journey.
Annabelle drew a steadying breath, wishing the train was already underway. She’d feel better once the option to stay was behind her. The time must be getting near, for the stationmaster strode along the platform, making final call. Then came the doors slamming closed, the clicking wheels, the hiss of steam, and the train jerked into motion. She drew a ragged breath as the depot slid into the distance, and she bid a silent farewell to the city that had changed her life.
Leaving hurt, but she must hold on to the thought of how much she’d learned during this time in Washington, for it had challenged her in ways she’d never imagined. It was her choice to go back to her old world, and she would make it a good one.
Within ten minutes the city was behind them. How quickly the stone buildings and telephone wires gave way to open fields and white farmhouses. The train sped past cabbage fields, and then a pair of young men rolling hay into bales. Would the Department of Agriculture’s new seeds ever reach this farm? Ortheir bulletins about crop rotation and soil amendments? She hoped so. How desperately she wanted good things for every farmer in America. For a few short months, she had gotten to be part of the wonderful crusade to make that happen.
She’d even helped change Gray’s mind about things. Someday when she was old and wrinkled, that bit of effort in recruiting Gray to the department’s mission might prove to be the biggest contribution of her life. It had been fun too. It was hard, challenging, and sometimes painful, but oh, how she had loved working alongside him.
She balled her fists and blinked faster.
“Don’t cry,” Maude said, not unkindly.
Annabelle dared not turn her gaze from the cabbage fields outside the window or the tears would spill over. “I won’t,” she said quietly. Maybe someday remembering wouldn’t hurt so much.
There was a knock on their door, and Roy opened it for the porter, who brought a teapot and four cups. “A gentleman asked to join you,” the porter said.
Annabelle sucked in a quick breath, for Gray stood behind the porter, looking nervous and ill at ease.
Roy stood. “I didn’t realize you were on board.”
