A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
“That is the last of the quoted passage,” the rabbi said. “Then he goes back to writing in his own broken Hebrew. The grammar is bad, but he writes that it is nearing his time to break down and die. He prays that for his sister, it is your time to laugh and dance.”
He handed back the letter.
My God, he is saying good-bye to me.
She wasn’t going to collapse or give up. She was going to figure out a way to save Luke before it was too late.
If Caroline was going to make any sense of this letter, she needed another pair of eyes to help. Maybe she was too close and emotional to interpret whatever Luke was trying to say to her.
That meant she needed Nathaniel. He was a detective. He had an eye for detail and might be able to spot something she’d overlooked.
Except that ever sincel’affaire de lobster, he had been assiduously avoiding her. He was scrupulously polite and professional, but it was clear he intended to honor the president’s request and keep his distance.
At dinner that night, he dined with Sven de Haas, Alfred Medina, and a pair of AP reporters. Dessert was an amaretto cake, but the real treat was a gourmet selection of cheeses paired with wines. Nathaniel rarely drank, and she pounced on her opportunity to get him alone.
“Can I ask you to come to the parlor car?” she asked.
He immediately went on alert. “Why?”
“I need your professional opinion on something.” It was impossible to ignore the knowing glances flying among the men, and she met them head on. Turning to the maddening Sven, she kept her voice loud enough for everyone in the dining car to hear. “I shall naturally be on good behavior and keep my hands to myself, so Mr. Trask’s spotless reputation will remain unsullied.”
Mercifully, Nathaniel rose without qualm and followed her through to the parlor car. It was dim, and he immediately turned the dial on the gas lamp to glow brighter.
His face was drawn with concern as he turned to her. “How’s your brother?”
It felt entirely natural. They knew each other so well that he didn’t even need to ask what her worries were.
“Not good,” she said, handing him the letter. “His last letter is nonsensical, and Gray thinks he’s losing his hold on the world around him. I’m not so sure. I wonder if he’s trying to communicate something, but I can make no sense of it. I need a fresh pair of eyes.”
Nathaniel sat on one of the padded benches to read, and she watched as his eyes traveled over the puzzling text. She didn’t even need to explain her concerns to Nathaniel, as he immediately began breaking down the passages.
“The city of columns is Havana,” he said.
“How do you know that?”
“Havana has always been known as the city of columns because of all the Spanish architecture.”
She looked at the passage Luke had written.The crew from the north has vanished, and the road to a city of columns is in danger.
“Havana is in danger?” she asked.
“No, theroadto Havana is in danger, and the trouble is coming from ‘the westernmost key.’ Does Luke have any connections in Key West?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Who is the good dancer?” Nathaniel asked.
“I am, but he is too.”
Nathaniel read the relevant line aloud. “‘Please remember, you can always trust a good dancer and the second in command.’” He set the paper down and looked her in the eye. “It sounds like he is telling you to trust your own judgment rather than your older brother’s. Do you have any reason to doubt Gray?”
The thought was appalling. “Gray has always been like afather to us. He’s also been a lifeline to Luke, so I don’t understand the reference to trusting the second in command, or who that could even be. Gray has been to Key West, but I never have. I have no idea what Luke can be saying about trouble flowing from Key West.”
Nathaniel turned the page over to where she’d written the translation of the Hebrew text. More than anything, she hoped Nathaniel could give her an alternate interpretation of the passages from Ecclesiastes other than Luke telling her he was about to die and not to mourn him.
Nathaniel sighed deeply. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
