“You look quite dashing in your finery,” she said.
The collar was stiff and uncomfortable, but he liked that she noticed. They spent a companionable few minutes in total silence while he ate. Exhaustion was getting to them both, and it was nice to simply enjoy the silent comradery.
But eventually he asked the question that had been burning in his mind. “Are you and the first lady on speaking terms again?”
She grimaced. “We’ve locked horns before, but yesterday was a little more epic than normal.”
“What was it about?”
“She doesn’t like that I’m taking a week off to go to Cuba.”
He choked on a grape, and it took a moment to recover. “Oh, for pity’s sake. I don’t like it either.”
“Please don’t nag me too. I have to go.”
“I won’t nag, but I don’t want you to go. It’s not safe.” Cuba was a war-torn, dangerous place, and he couldn’t go with her to provide protection.
“My older brother is going with me,” she assured him as if reading his mind. “I know you don’t believe me, but I knowLuke is innocent, and I can’t sit up here in the lap of luxury and ignore what’s going on down there.”
He closed his eyes, wishing he didn’t admire her so much. How could he tell her to stop loving someone? This sort of loyalty was in Caroline’s blood.
He still didn’t want her leaving. For months they had been living under the same roof, and he caught glimpses of her daily. Those moments of connection were important to him. He reached out to cover her hand with his own. They hadn’t touched since that night they kissed on the staircase during the state dinner, and a zing of electricity sparked merely from the brief contact of their hands.
“Please come back,” he whispered.
She looked puzzled but didn’t pull her hand away. “Of course I will. Life in Cuba would be disaster for my hair.”
“That’s not what I mean. Please come back to the White House.” Caroline’s presence was what made it worthwhile, a gilded flash of light and joy that made his days bearable.
“Mrs. McKinley is still angry with me, but she hasn’t fired me yet. I don’t expect that she will.”
“Good.” He squeezed her hand, then let it go.
He watched as she descended the staircase. He feared she was heading into trouble in Cuba, but was powerless to stop her.
Nineteen
Caroline and Gray boarded a regular passenger ship to Cuba, as thePelicanwas still traveling back from Madagascar and would only be summoned should Luke agree to their desperate plan to smuggle him off the island.
During their two days at sea, Gray did his best to prepare Caroline for what she would see in Cuba. Luke was going to be gaunt and grubby, the jail dilapidated and cramped, and the climate muggy. They had sent a telegram to Luke, telling him to expect their visit, but didn’t know if it got through to him.
Signs of rebuilding were everywhere on the island. Trawling ships dredged the lagoon, cranes lowered boulders to restore the harbor walls, and bridges were under construction. Members from the US Army Corps of Engineers directed the work while hundreds of Cubans carried it out.
Caroline braced herself as their carriage arrived at the jail. Gray clasped her hand, a reassuring lifeline as they headed toward the building, her heeled shoes wobbling over the scrabbly courtyard. The jail was a squat, one-story building with narrow slits for windows. A couple guards played dice beneath the shade trees, and Gray nodded to them as he passed. He’dbeen to Cuba several times to see Luke and knew how to navigate this world.
The doorway of the jail was open, and the warden sat at a desk in the front hall. Caroline’s eyes traveled the interior while Gray haggled with the warden for permission to bring in a bag of food and books for Luke. The warden pretended great reluctance, but this was another ritual Gray had told her about. The warden inspected the contents of the bag, sorting through the beef jerky, a few chocolate bars, and several canisters of peanuts. He fanned the pages of the novels but refused to let them bring in the bottle of pills. Gray always added one or two items he knew the warden would confiscate. The face-saving gesture meant that the food and books usually got through.
“Don’t get too upset,” Gray cautioned her for the millionth time as a guard began leading them down a narrow corridor, a set of keys jangling. “He’s going to look very different, but it’s nothing that a few months of decent food and sunshine can’t cure.”
The guard banged on the door to Luke’s cell and spoke in Spanish while turning the key in the rusty lock. It clanked as he pulled it open and held it for Caroline. It was dim inside the cell, but Luke stood on the other side with a wide smile.
Oh, good heavens. He looked like a pirate, with a dark beard and surprisingly long hair tied behind his head. She rushed into his arms, ignoring the smell, and tried not to cry.
A few minutes later Gray passed the bag to Luke, who grinned while pawing through it, tearing off a strip of beef jerky before he’d even finished taking inventory of its contents.
“Caroline? You want some?”
“It’s all yours,” she said with a shake of her head.
