Caroline brought her attorney for her confrontation with Captain Holland. She hadn’t been much of a match against the captain during their last meeting, but Mr. Alphonse was the best criminal attorney in Washington. He had a firm grasp of criminal and constitutional law and a nodding acquaintance with military law.
“Let me take the lead,” Mr. Alphonse whispered just before they entered Captain Holland’s office, and she gratefully agreed.
This time there was no cordial banter. Mr. Alphonse got directly to the business at hand the moment he and Carolinewere seated across from Captain Holland’s wide mahogany desk. Her attorney and Captain Holland unleashed a torrent of legal terms likeamicus curiae,convening authority,bifurcation,comity. ... Her head whirled at the verbal jousting she had difficulty following.
All she cared about was getting Luke transferred to the mainland. She’d worry about proving his innocence later, but for now she wanted him out of that hot, tropical climate. When she said as much, Captain Holland interrupted her.
“He’s already been transferred to the American military hospital in Havana. He’s getting exceptional care.”
“We want him transferred to the United States for trial,” her attorney said. “We want him to regain his health so he can fully participate in his defense, and I want regular contact with my client.”
“If you want to see him, go to Cuba,” Captain Holland said. “My guess is that he’ll fire you, just like he’s fired every other attorney he’s had. This entire case is bad for troop morale and our efforts to appease the Cuban opposition. It was better when he was being held by the Cubans.”
That comment took her aback. “Why?” she asked.
“Now that he’s back in American custody, we are forced to proceed to a trial,” Captain Holland said. “The Cubans were probably hoping the pneumonia would finish him off and resolve the political embarrassment.”
She flinched at his callous tone, but something he’d just said didn’t ring true. “But they transferred him to you when he got sick. The Cubansdon’twant him to die.”
He slanted her a look as though disappointed at her naiveté. “That’s what they want you to think. They’ll do anything to keep the Americans happy until their island is rebuilt. Then they’ll happily kick us out.”
“What are his odds in a trial?” she asked.
“Not good. Trust me, Miss Delacroix, we loathe the prospectof a trial because it has the potential to stoke the rebellion. Nevertheless, we can’t afford to be lenient in such cases, and a death penalty is almost a certainty. This is a headache I don’t need, but the latest report I’ve had from Cuba is that your brother’s health is not improving. Nature may take its course and spare us all from the indignity of a trial.”
It was a slap in the face, but she couldn’t afford to let it show. If officers in the navy were secretly praying for a convenient death, she had no doubt they’d eventually succeed.
She stood. Mr. Alphonse tried to tug her back down, but she shook him off and braced her hands on Captain Holland’s desk to lean over him.
“Please understand that if ‘nature takes its course’ and my brother suffers a miserable death in a prison hospital, I will raise a firestorm unlike anything you’ve ever seen. I want Luke to have three solid meals a day. Daily visits from a doctor. Clean drinking water and no dank cells. The president told me I could trust you to make this happen, and I’ll be watching.”
The meeting ended shortly after that, and Mr. Alphonse privately advised that she accept the likelihood of a trial in Cuba. Tears clouded her vision as she bid him farewell, but she couldn’t be rational at a time like this.
She almost stepped in front of a streetcar as she darted across the road and toward a church, for the only thing she could do was pray to God for mercy.
The church was empty and quiet as she fell to her knees. Luke was a good man despite his irreverence. He’d been studying the Bible. He’d engineered funding for Petra’s school for poor women. While it was possible he’d committed a terrible crime, there was no sin that couldn’t be forgiven. Jesus had promised them that.
And wasn’t Luke’s salvation what she should care about the most? He could find peace in the hereafter, if not on earth. God had never promised them a long life, and she mightneed to become reconciled to the fact that Luke would not have one.
Her knees ached by the time she rose, but her heart was still heavy as she walked back to the White House.
“Where have you been?” the housekeeper asked when Caroline entered the kitchen. “Mrs. McKinley has been banging her cane, shouting down the house in search of you.”
“What now?”
The housekeeper rolled her eyes. “She’s in a mood because the blueberry muffins were burned this morning. We still haven’t heard the end of it.”
Caroline drew a fortifying breath, bracing herself for a difficult day, but there was a limit to her patience, and she feared she was about to reach it.
Twenty-Two
Nathaniel had spent an hour inspecting the exterior security measures when he got wind of Mrs. McKinley’s latest tantrum, for apparently, she’d had a rich one with Caroline that afternoon. Sullivan told him the news when he stopped by the north yard sentry box.
“It was all about some burned blueberry muffins,” Sullivan said in a low voice. “She ordered Caroline to get the housekeeper to make another batch, but there were no more blueberries. Didn’t matter. She wanted Caroline to go out and find some, and Caroline refused. That caused another ruckus, and Caroline threatened not to go on the train trip, and Mrs. McKinley shouted ‘Good riddance’ and kicked her out of her suite. Everyone is hoping this blows over, becausenobodywants to be trapped on that train for three months if Caroline isn’t there to tame the dragon.”
Nathaniel ought to reprimand Sullivan for speaking disrespectfully of the first lady, but everyone knew it was true, and they had complete privacy at the sentry box. He’d have to see what he could do about getting Caroline back on board.
Even though it would be easier on him if she stayed home. They worked so closely together, and yet she was untouchable.She was an itch he couldn’t scratch. Securing the president’s safety required his full attention, and he couldn’t afford to indulge this inconvenient infatuation.
