She’d been out of sorts for the past few days, ever since Gray Delacroix visited late at night, and he suspected it had something to do with her brother in Cuba.
It wasn’t hard to guess where Caroline had gone after getting banished from the first lady’s presence. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made his way to the White House roof and quickly spotted her staring out over the back lawn. Several cigarette butts lay near her feet, and she puffed on another. She must have heard him approach, for she swiveled and shot him a glare.
“Don’t you dare give me any grief about smoking,” she warned.
He held up both hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on it. It sounds like you’ve had quite a day.”
He joined her at the rail. She was on the verge of cracking. The signs were all there. The trembling of her hands, the stiff spine, the look of vulnerability swirling amidst anger and exhaustion.
“What’s wrong?” he said softly. “This is about more than blueberry muffins.”
The hand holding the cigarette trembled harder. “My brother has pneumonia. He might die. Even if he recovers, the army is going to keep giving him shoddy treatment until he really does die, because then they won’t have to deal with the scandal of a trial.”
“Where did you hear about this?”
She told him how a navy lawyer filled her in on the legal proceedings. President McKinley had given her a glimmer of hope for a pardon in four years, but she didn’t think Luke would last that long. In the meantime, she was frantically trying to lean on her connections to get him transferred to the mainland and decent legal help.
“And now he has pneumonia,” she said. “I can’t bear thinking of him struggling for every breath of air just to stay alive. And then Ida has conniptions over burned muffins.”
She dropped the cigarette, and he covered it with his boot to crush it out. She braced her hands on the railing, her head sagging. Her voice became so faint, it was a struggle to hear her.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” she whispered. “I can barely string a sentence together, and she orders me to turn the city upside down in search of blueberries.”
He laid an arm across her shoulders, wishing he could provide better comfort. She didn’t deserve this. It hurt to see her so despondent, for Caroline was usually a Valkyrie, ready to stride forth into glorious battle. Not today.
“I can’t get on that train,” she continued, still staring at the yard below. “If word comes that Luke has taken a turn for the worse, I need to be able to go to him. I can’t be in Kansas or California or hunting down blueberries.”
The train left tomorrow, and she needed to be on board. Not for his sanity, but for the good of her brother. He used a calm voice to cut through her misery.
“If Luke’s health begins to fail, trust that your older brother will be at his side,” he said. “For now, you need to preserve your link to the McKinleys. If you quit now, you’re losing your best chance for a pardon.” He squeezed her shoulders. “After coming so far with Mrs. McKinley, you’re not going to be defeated by a request for blueberries. When times get tough, you get tougher.”
It looked like she tried to smile but failed. “Not this time. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I’ll move to the Florida Keys and wait for word in case Luke needs me. I can hire a boat and be there in a few hours.”
“To sit by his deathbed? Or are you going to get on that train and fight for him? And I’m not talking about a pardon, I’m talking about solidifying your position with the McKinleys.Get your photograph taken with them at every public event and send copies to the officers at the military prison. Let them know who they’re dealing with. They won’t dare let him die if they know how powerfully connected his family is. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s your best shot, and you’ve got to depend on your older brother to fight the battle on the other front.”
“Why are you talking like this? Building me up when I know you think Luke is guilty?”
He looked away, afraid that if he met her eyes, she’d see how much she meant to him. “I’m building you up because I know what it is to be torn down. And I don’t want that happening to you.”
He faced her, drinking in the sight that had held him captivated from the moment he set eyes on her. “You are in the early stages of a battle. There are almost four years until the president’s term is over. Don’t burn yourself out too quickly. Learn to see the joy in each day. Even if it means finding a basket of blueberries or calming an anxious woman who has been overwhelmed from the moment her husband was elected to the presidency. There’s valor in that, Caroline.”
She stepped closer to him, her dress brushing up against his legs. He could smell the lemony soap in her hair.
“I feel stronger just being with you,” she whispered.
He embraced her, holding her close. The current of electricity, never far below the surface when she was near, flared to life. “You drive me to distraction,” he admitted, “and that’s dangerous. At the same time, I crave it more than my next breath of air.”
She pulled back to look at him, and her tear-stained face was radiant, more luminous than if a Renaissance master had tried to capture her spirit. They both knew pain, fear, and the gnawing sense of helplessness. They both struggled to find the resilience to stand up and fight another day. He leaned downto touch his forehead to hers, wanting to be her companion, her hero, her everything.
“I’ll be with you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ll guard your back and clear a path before you. When fear threatens to drown you, I’ll be there to haul you out. You can count on me.”
She held him tight as the sun sank beneath the horizon. Tonight there was no more reserve, no more barriers. Tomorrow they’d go back to their formal roles, but for now they clung to each other, knowing the months ahead would be a long and trying journey. At this perfect moment of calm, they grew stronger together.
Twenty-Three
Nathaniel made a final inspection of the train a few hours before their departure. With eight cars in the presidential entourage, the train was fitted out with everything the president would need to conduct business for the next twelve weeks. The dining car had been furnished to seat thirty people, for they’d frequently be joined by congressmen and prominent guests for segments of the trip. The parlor car featured enlarged windows for an expansive view as they traversed the nation. The president had his own sleeping car, while the staff had a male sleeping car and another for the cooks, the wives of congressmen, and of course, Caroline.
Most impressive was the system set up for communication. The traveling presidency would have a stenographer, two telegraph operators, a cable technician, and an officer from the railroad to handle any difficulties along the way. Rembrandt and members of the press would accompany them, and an entire railway car was set up for communication purposes.
