You know what to do.
At the bottom of the letter were several lines written in Hebrew that she couldn’t begin to decipher.
“Oh, Luke,” she whispered, for this letter was tangible proof he was breaking down. He’d been imprisoned for more than a year, and his mind was no longer functioning properly. The Flying Dutchman? She vaguely remembered the legend of the ghostly ship doomed to forever sail on the high seas. Laden with silks and spices plundered from the Far East, it was ruined by the greed of the captain, and the ghost ship was condemned to endlessly drift upon the ocean.
She stared at the letter, baffled by the incoherent rambling, but perhaps Luke was trying to tell her something. Trust a good dancer? She and Luke both loved to dance and were good at it. Gray had two left feet and would rather have a tooth pulled than get on a dance floor. Was Luke trying to tell her to trust himself rather than Gray? Was he implying that he was second in command to Gray’s senior position in the family?
She sighed as the trolley drew near the train depot. The letter raised uncomfortable questions, and she feared Luke would not last much longer.
The following week they traveled through the Blue Ridge Mountains and crossed into the splendor of Tennessee. From the train’s oversized windows, Caroline watched as they sped past fields of cotton, rye, and tobacco. Lumbering cattle grazed in pastures, followed by endless stretches of lush forest. The president spoke at the state capitol, and they were all guests of honor at a Scottish festival featuring bagpipes, traditional games, and highland dancing.
Mrs. Foster took the opportunity to sneak in a dig at Caroline. “If you can’t land Agent Trask, perhaps you can settle for one of those men in kilts,” she said.
For some reason, Mrs. Foster delighted in Caroline’s unrequited crush on Nathaniel and called attention to it at every opportunity. In Nashville, they threw pennies into a wishing well, but Mrs. Foster threw a quarter. “I’m throwing an extra big coin in hopes you can land Agent Trask,” she giggled.
When they boarded carriages to return to the train, Mrs. Foster noticed an empty spot beside Nathaniel and flagged Caroline down. “Yoo-hoo, Caroline!” she called out with a broad wave to attract the attention of the entire party. “Look! There’s an empty seat beside your young man.”
Caroline ignored the invitation, sending Mrs. Foster a sidelong smile as she joined the McKinleys in the president’s carriage. She tried not to let Mrs. Foster get under her skin, but it was hard, and they were only a week into the tour.
When their itinerary turned south, they visited a felting mill and toured Fort McPherson, where they dined with the troops. Then they headed toward Atlanta, where the president metwith leaders of the burgeoning textile industry, then toured a Jewish synagogue.
It was at the synagogue that Caroline hoped to find someone who could help her make sense of the final passages of Luke’s letter.
Both McKinleys were fascinated by the synagogue, admiring the ornate cabinet that held the Torah scrolls. In honor of their visit, the candles in all the chandeliers had been lit. With great care, the rabbi opened the gold-embossed ark to lift out the Torah and carry it to the dais. The scrolls were unwrapped and unrolled. To Caroline’s delight, the rabbi read in Hebrew, his rich voice speaking the ancient language in a manner that filled the air. Then he sang the passages, the words lifting and falling in a delightful cadence.
She must get this man alone! It was impossible to know what Luke had written in the Hebrew passage, but her deepest fear was that he might be guilty and was using Hebrew to confess something shameful. She didn’t want anyone else to witness what the rabbi had to say.
Her opportunity came earlier than expected, for the rabbi’s wife had prepared traditional Jewish pastries to share with the party. Although they’d been dining like royalty on the train, the chance to sample the pastries sent everyone eagerly following the rabbi’s wife.
Caroline hurried to the rabbi’s side, Luke’s letter clutched in her hands. “Sir? May I have a moment?” she asked, her voice uncomfortably loud in the cavernous chamber.
Perhaps he was used to people seeking a private moment, for he did not seem surprised as he gestured her toward a pew. Members of her party were still funneling out the door, and she prayed they’d leave quickly so she could speak in confidence.
Only Nathaniel lingered. “Caroline?” his gentle voice echoed in the nearly empty hall. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I want to speak with Rabbi Ginsburg for a moment.”
Their eyes met across the distance, but he nodded and followed the others to the reception area.
Caroline braced herself as she passed the letter to the rabbi. “My brother sent me this letter from prison.” She pointed to the Hebrew passage. “I hope you might tell me what he wrote at the bottom.”
The rabbi adjusted his spectacles and lifted the letter closer to his face. “Your brother has poor grammar.”
“To be expected,” she said. “He’s been teaching himself.”
Rabbi Ginsburg took only a moment more to finish reading. “In the first line, he says he is very ill. He says he may die.”
Her gasp echoed in the chamber, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, her worst fears coming to life.
“Then he goes on to quote Ecclesiastes,” the rabbi continued. “Here his grammar is perfect. I am guessing he has a Hebrew Bible?”
“He does.”
The rabbi nodded. “He has picked and omitted various pieces, but here is what he wrote:
To every thing there is a season.... A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
