That was the only time she’d ever seen Luke cry. He clung to her as he wept, each of his wrenching sobs cutting her to the bone. Luke was irreverent and reckless, but he wasn’t a traitor. She couldn’t believe it of him.
“I still don’t think he’s guilty,” she asserted as she stared at Gray across his desk.
He sighed. “Caroline, he looked me straight in the eyes and confessed. Why would he lie if he’s innocent?”
It was a mystery. Luke had been locked up for three monthswith no communication to the outside world except an occasional visit from Gray. He wasn’t allowed to send them letters. He refused to see the lawyer they had hired and maintained his right to silence when questioned by military personnel.
“I spoke with an attorney about filing paperwork for a presidential pardon,” she told Gray. “Mr. Alphonse refused to take my money. He says it’s hopeless until after the election.”
Gray straightened in his chair. “But McKinley might not win. I know everyone in Washington loves him, but William Jennings Bryan owns the west. We can’t take anything for granted.”
The hint of panic in his tone was worrisome. “I know,” she said. “I think it’s time for me to appeal straight to the president. No intermediary. No lawyers or paperwork.”
It was time for her to act.
Eight
Although Caroline lived in the same house as the president, she wasn’t free to wander in for a chat like people in a normal household. George reluctantly squeezed her in for a brief appointment before the president’s afternoon meeting with the Treasury Secretary.
A few minutes before two o’clock, she paced in the waiting room outside the president’s office, where the Secretary of the Treasury also cooled his heels. She’d been too nervous to eat breakfast or lunch, only drinking several fortifying cups of strong black coffee. Now she trembled in a combination of fear, hunger, and caffeine as she rehearsed how best to frame her request. Luke had already pled guilty, so trying to convince the president of his innocence was pointless. All she could do was beg for mercy.
She was shown into the president’s office promptly at two. She’d only been in this room a few times, but it never failed to surprise her. It was an imposing room, but two thick electrical cords dangled from the ceiling directly over the president’s desk. One serviced the lamp and the other a telephone.
“Any plans to improve the wiring?” she asked, already knowingthe answer, but the question was a subtle reminder of the challenges Ida brought to his life.
The president gave a congenial laugh as he took his seat. As always, he was formally dressed in a suitcoat, vest, and tie, his face haggard from three years in office. “Not unless Mrs. McKinley has a change of heart about construction noise. Now. Tell me what I can do for you.”
This was it. Her mouth went dry, and her heart threatened to leap from her chest.
“You are aware of my brother’s unfortunate situation in Cuba,” she began. “I fear he is losing weight and has been mistreated in prison.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear that,” the president said gently.
“I don’t know how much longer he can last. Luke may not deserve your mercy, but you have the power to offer it.”
President McKinley could not have been more sympathetic as he looked at her with kindly eyes, but his voice was resolute. “Miss Delacroix, I sincerely hope you’re not about to ask me to intervene on his behalf.”
She swallowed hard. “You are the most powerful man in the nation. You could help.”
“It may appear that way, but I am answerable to the people for every move I make.” He gestured to a tall set of drawers in the corner. “That bureau is filled with desperate requests from all over the country. They are pleas to spare someone from bankruptcy, or a farm from being seized, or a husband from the hangman’s noose. I can’t grant even a tiny fraction of them.”
Worry lines fanned from the corners of his eyes, and he had more silver in his hair than when she began working for him less than a year ago. She didn’t doubt this job had taken its toll, but she had to save Luke.
“Would I have more luck if I submitted a formal request through an attorney?”
His smile was sad. “I would put it in the bottom drawer ofthat bureau with all the others I’ve received. At this point in my term, I cannot spend political capital on a man charged with treason, no matter how highly I value his sister’s services to my wife. I’m sorry, Miss Delacroix. I can’t consider a presidential pardon at this point. Perhaps if I win a second term, I can consider it in a few years, but not now.”
It was as her attorney had warned her, but she couldn’t give up. Not yet. “What would you do if you were in my place?”
The question took him by surprise. He swiveled in his chair to gaze out the window for a moment. He seemed baffled by the request, but only for a moment.
“I would get the War Department on my side,” he said. “Those old boys have a byzantine set of rules, but if you win them over, they may be willing to delay things to give your brother a fighting chance. Keep him alive, that’s the main thing. In four years, if he’s still in need of a presidential pardon and I’m still in this office, I’ll put his case in the top drawer of that bureau.”
He stood and crossed the room to consult a directory near the telephone stand. “In the meantime, get in touch with Captain Michael Holland. He’s a miracle worker over in the War Department. He’s a navy lawyer, and he knows everyone. Does everything. Handles the budget, pushes contracts through, can dance around legal issues to get things done. He’s the man to see.”
Caroline had met Captain Holland on several occasions. During a White House reception for military officers, she’d exchanged pleasantries with him and his wife. More importantly, she’d spoken with him at a regatta last summer, where he had plied Gray with all manner of questions about the business of cargo ships. At the time she thought it was mere professional curiosity, but she later learned he was looking for ways to help his son find a foothold in the business.
Captain Holland was no stranger to the anguish of havinga black sheep in his family, for his son had been dishonorably discharged from the navy because of drunkenness. That had been three years ago, and rumor claimed the son had been sober ever since. It was obvious that Captain Holland had been subtly suggesting that Gray might find a position for his son on their family’s merchant vessel, but Gray let the overture go unanswered.
