How could she explain it? In the space of one minute, a relationship that she’d come to treasure had completely imploded. Perhaps it was only Ida’s grief lashing out, but it still hurt.
In a moment Caroline would walk out of the White House for the last time, but she couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to Nathaniel. He was wounded and adrift and didn’t fully understand what he meant to her. She wouldn’t simply disappear from him because Ida’s temper had snapped.
“I need to go downstairs and tell Nathaniel what happened,” she explained to Sullivan as their footsteps clattered down the empty staff stairwell. “It will only take a moment.”
Sullivan put a hand on her arm, regret on his face. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only me.”
“Mrs. McKinley is still in charge. I follow her orders.”
Caroline stood in drop-jawed disbelief, but he was serious. Sullivan was now in charge of security, and he’d be putting his job at risk if he deviated from a direct order. Ida was mad enough to collect more heads, and Sullivan was always a rule-follower.
“Very well,” she said calmly, heading toward the staff door at the back of the house. Butlers and wait staff were busy preparing the dining room for dinner, but none of them knew she’d been fired. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as she passed through the butler’s pantry, the china room, and toward the staff door, where she paused and turned to Sullivan. He offered a handshake, but she brushed it away and pulled him into a hug, standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.
“Look after him,” she said. She pushed him back but kept a hand braced on each shoulder, forcing him to look at her. “You and I have walked through fire together,” she said, surprising both of them with this earnest rush of emotion. “I will never forget you, and I don’t blame you for following Ida’s orders, but now I’m relying on you to look after Nathaniel until he’s on an even keel again. Try to make him sleep. Make him eat. Order it if you have to. Don’t you dare let me down.”
“I hear you,” Sullivan said, looking sick at heart for throwing her out. “Do you have enough money to get home?”
She nodded. Fortunately, she’d had her reticule when Ida’s tantrum descended or else she’d be forced to borrow streetcar fare. “Good luck, Sullivan,” she said before heading out the door.
Then she paused and turned back to him. “I have another request,” she impulsively said.
“Name it.”
“Make sure Nathaniel stays at his post for the next hour. Have him monitoring the telephone calls.”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
Caroline left the White House without a backward glance, for she needed to find somewhere to place a very important call.
Nathaniel sat in a rolling chair, sliding down the line of telephone operators as various calls came in. He supposed he could walk instead of using the chair, but it would take too much effort.
The communications room in the White House basement was now the busiest room in the building as messages of condolence flooded the lines. Those calls were dwarfed by new government business, for President Roosevelt had already initiated massive changes that demanded attention.
It was hard to care. He didn’t have the energy. Maybe because he no longer really slept. He never left his post before midnight, and he returned promptly at six o’clock the following morning. Sleep during those few hours was scanty, for he was intensely aware of any noise in the building and the sound of streetcars outside. Even the pacing of the night guards woke him. In the morning he awoke exhausted but managed to shave, pull on a suit, then head downstairs to his post. He had no appetite and no ambition beyond going through the daily motions of life. Nothing penetrated this oppressive fog of lethargy.
Clicking and rattling poured from the telegraph machines, but a new telephone call arrived, and he rolled his chair a few feet to listen in.
A woman’s voice came over the line, and he straightened, recognizing Caroline’s voice.
“Margaret?” Caroline asked the operator. “Don’t patch me through to anyone yet. Just hold the line open.”
Margaret met his eyes. “It’s open, ma’am.”
“Security can hear me?”
“He can,” Margaret said, still looking confused. He was confused too. He rolled his chair closer, scanning the switchboard to figure out where she was calling from, for it was an outside line.
“I need to talk to Sullivan. He should be in his office. Patch me through, please, but hold the line open.”
Now Nathaniel was deeply concerned. Margaret looked to him for permission, and he nodded. This was out of character, which meant something was going on. Margaret patched the call through to his old office. Why did Caroline want him to eavesdrop on this call? It made no sense unless she was leading Sullivan into a trap. His stomach turned at the thought, but he leaned in closer, monitoring Sullivan’s voice as he answered the line.
“I’m sorry about what happened this afternoon,” Caroline said, her voice aching with sadness.
“I am too,” Sullivan replied.
“I wish I’d had a chance to say good-bye to the rest of the staff. I understand you needed to follow Mrs. McKinley’s orders—”
