“If you hadn’t gotten yourself arrested for treason, I wouldn’t have had to!”
Caroline flinched. This cell was too small for the anger roiling between her brothers. “Stop it, both of you. Luke, we can get you out, but only if you cooperate. Will you let us help you?” She held her breath, barely able to hold on to her composure. It was made worse by the misery in Luke’s eyes.
“I’m sorry to let you down,” he said. “A thousand times, I’m sorry, but this is where I deserve to be. I won’t sneak away.”
“At least let us try to get you into an American prison. Conditions will be—”
He cut her off, grabbing both her shoulders and looking her directly in the eyes. “I need you tolisten to me,” he said, giving her shoulders a shake, his voice uncharacteristically stern. “I am exactly where I need to be, and you need to leave this alone. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
“I hear you. I don’t agree.”
“Leave it alone, Caroline,” he warned again, his face hard. “I don’t want a transfer to an American prison.” He dropped his hands and looked away. When he turned to her again, his eyes were sad, but he summoned a smile. “I don’t want to drag you down with me,” he said. “Go back to Washington and set the city on fire. Do something amazing. Sail alongside the eagles and never look back. And, Caroline, as much as I appreciate your visit, please don’t come back. I don’t want you remembering me like this.”
Caroline stood on the deck of the steamship, hands clasping the railing as the vessel plowed through the sea toward home. Gray stood beside her, silently looking into the horizon, his thoughts surely as dark as her own. Wind buffeted them with its salty tang and stinging mist.
“I’m not giving up,” she said firmly, but her voice was carried off by the wind.
“There may come a time when you’ll need to become resigned to it,” Gray said gently.
The words stung because they were true.
Twenty
Nathaniel ordered the officer at the guardhouse to inform him the moment Caroline returned to the White House. It was nearing midnight, and he should have left his office hours ago, but knowing Caroline’s return from Cuba was imminent made sleep impossible. Besides, he still had plenty of work planning the cross-country trip the president insisted upon. They would stop at sixty-eight locations, and he needed to contact the local police at each stop. He dialed up the kerosene in the desk lantern and focused on the harbor of Natchez, where the president and his wife would enjoy a brief riverboat excursion.
Caroline would probably look delightful on the riverboat. She’d probably wear summer whites and one of those broad-brimmed, daringly feminine hats. He threw his pencil down in frustration. He couldn’t explain this overwhelming urgency to see her again, but during the days she’d been gone, he’d thought of her constantly.
What kind of harebrained woman walked into a war-torn environment where the local population lacked food and basic resources? Knowing Caroline, she’d shown up in a silk gownand satin pumps, with perfectly styled hair and one of those wasp-waisted getups, all of which would make her a prime kidnapping target.
Plus, her trip was doomed to failure. He’d had John Wilkie pull whatever was known about Luke’s case, and it stank to high heaven. Caroline didn’t deserve this. Her ship was supposed to have docked hours ago, so why wasn’t she back yet?
There could have been trouble in Cuba. Transportation breakdowns or brigands, and Caroline didn’t speak Spanish. He should have figured out some way to stop her from leaving.
The telephone rang, and he snatched up the receiver. “Trask here.”
“The lady you asked about is heading toward the staff entrance.”
His shoulders sagged in relief. “Does she look okay?”
There was a moment of confusion on the other end of the connection. “I guess so,” the guard said. “Was I supposed to be looking for something?”
“No, that’s fine. Thank you.” He replaced the receiver on the hook, willing his heart to resume its normal rate. He wasn’t responsible for Caroline’s safety, and besides, she’d obviously come through the trip just fine. A couple hours late, but more or less on time.
He pulled on a suit jacket and headed downstairs to intercept her. He needed to see for himself how she’d fared, but by the time he got to the far side of the house, he only caught a flash of a sapphire blue skirt as she disappeared up the stairwell to the staff quarters. He vaulted after her.
“Caroline?” His voice echoed up the stairwell. The clicking of her heels paused, but she didn’t say anything, and that wasn’t like her. He vaulted up the stairs, catching sight of her on the flight just outside the third floor.
She looked terrible. Flawlessly dressed, as usual, but drained and despondent. He ached for her.
“How can I help?” he asked.
For once, she seemed to be at a loss for words as she glanced around the interior of the stairwell, the single lightbulb casting a garish light that made her face look ashen. Finally, she simply shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she said, lowering herself to plop onto the top step. “Maybe by not saying ‘I told you so.’”
He sat on a step a few treads below hers to avoid touching her skirt. He listened as her story came out in fits and starts, detailing the heat and the stench of the prison, the dilapidated conditions, and the cramped cell. Most of all he felt the despair pouring off her in waves, so different from the normally radiant Caroline. She hung her head, palms to her forehead as though it was too much effort to hold it up.
“I need you to tell me not to have a cigarette,” she said, her voice muffled.
