“We’re quite pleased with him,” Mrs. Lincoln added in her Kentucky drawl. She was festooned in a beautiful rose-colored silk gown and elaborate headdress. “Mr. Cooper is new to Washington, so I hoped you young people might get acquainted this evening.” She looked between Mr. Cooper and me with a self-satisfied smile. “I’ve put you together at supper. I hope you don’t mind.”
I had never known her to be a matchmaker, but she had a sparkle in her eyes. She was not popular in Washington, but I liked her.
“I don’t mind,” Mr. Cooper said, meeting my gaze again.
“Speaking of supper.” Mrs. Lincoln moved toward the doors to the Red Room. “It’s time we greet our guests and lead them into the dining room. Mr. Lincoln and I were late, and we’ve held up the meal. Shall we?”
“Iwas late?” Mr. Lincoln asked with a chuckle. He touchedthe lace at his wife’s sleeve with his gloved hand. “Perhaps you and Mrs. Keckley should start your work earlier in the day.”
She ignored his comment about her dressmaker and pushed her way into the Red Room. There, in her abrupt fashion, she announced that everyone must follow her into dinner.
Mr. Cooper offered his arm to me, his eyes still smiling. “It appears we’ve been paired, Miss Wakefield. If we’re to sit together, may I escort you into dinner?”
Why did his question feel more like a challenge? One I wanted to accept? “You may.”
I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm, and we walked into the State Dining Room. A large, gaudy chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, and a white tablecloth lined the table, which was laden with fine china and crystal goblets. Yellow flowers graced the center of the table, matching the yellowed wallpaper and discolored rug. This room, like almost all the others in the White House, was drafty and rundown. Mold grew in the corners, and the furniture was in a sorry state of disrepair. Mrs. Lincoln lamented the condition of the home and often discussed her plans to make it the showpiece it was meant to be, but many naysayers thought it a frivolous expense, given the oncoming war. It was one of the many things that made her unpopular, even with men and women in her own political party.
Mr. Cooper held out my chair, and I thanked him. He seemed to be studying me. For some reason, it put me on edge, though I had nothing to hide—not really. He smelled of a heady cologne I didn’t recognize, and when he drew close to take his seat, I had to force myself to think about something other than his nearness. There were spies to uncover, and a handsome stranger was a terrible distraction.
Mrs. Lincoln presided over the dinner table. “Let us not speak a word of war this evening.” She looked at her husband pointedly. “Tonight,” she continued, “we will strive to forgetabout the rebels in the South, and those still among us in this godforsaken city, and enjoy ourselves like civilized folks.”
“Hear, hear,” several men said as they raised their crystal goblets.
I studied the men and women around the table. There were twenty of us, all important in Mr. Lincoln’s world. Could one of them be a spy? It was impossible to know without listening to conversations, taking note of strange behaviors, and watching for unlikely alliances.
No one held my attention as much as the man beside me, though. He did not raise his goblet to toast like the others, nor smile in agreement, and it made me pause. If he was loyal to the Lincolns, serving in the War Department, shouldn’t he have shown the same enthusiasm as everyone else? Instead, his face remained neutral, almost calculating.
Who was this man? Where had he come from? Almost everyone in President Lincoln’s close circle was a person I had known or known of for most of my life. Mr. Cooper was completely new to me. Not to mention, he was a foreigner.
A bowl of steaming tomato soup was set before me, redolent with the scent of basil, yet I suddenly had no appetite. Nerves bound up my stomach as I wondered about Mr. Cooper’s allegiance to the Union. Was he a risk to the country and the president I loved?
“Do you enjoy these sorts of affairs, Miss Wakefield?” Mr. Cooper asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“I don’t mind them. Do you?” I asked in return.
That same smile tilted his eyes—the one that suggested he knew a joke I didn’t. “I think this one might turn out to be quite enjoyable.”
“I have a feeling you might be right.”
“I’m rarely wrong.”
I laughed at that—I couldn’t help it. He seemed completely sure of himself, though I could tell he was teasing.
He smiled with me. “I believe you enjoy these social responsibilities, but I’d wager you would much prefer to do something with more substance or purpose. Perhaps you have a cause you like to champion, one that might not be socially acceptable.”
His comment took me off guard, though I tried hard not to show it. I would prefer to be studying medicine or treating the sick and injured—but those were jobs I did in 1941 and 2001. Here, in 1861, I was not free to follow my passion. Not yet.
I could not let him know he was right. It would be easier to tease him back and ask a leading question of my own. “Are you a mind reader, Mr. Cooper? Perhaps part of a circus act before you joined us in Washington?”
He picked up his silver spoon and dipped it into his soup, the smile still in his eyes. “A circus act? No. A mind reader? Perhaps.”
“Then I will strive to think of nothing when I’m in your presence.”
“That would be a shame.” He had a way of making me feel like I was the only other person in the room with him. “I see great intelligence in your eyes. You are an old soul, Miss Wakefield. Wise beyond your years. I would hate for you to hide that from me.”
My mood grew serious as we studied one another. Could he see the truth behind my eyes? Iwasan old soul. I’d lived for over sixty years, in three different paths, gaining wisdom and knowledge. I had three different bodies but one conscious mind. I looked identical in each time—twenty years old—but what happened to me in one path didn’t affect my physical bodies in the others. If I was sick with measles in one, I was healthy in the other. If I fractured a bone in one, my bones in the other were completely intact. The only thing that remained the same was my mind, gathering memories, information, and knowledge from each path.
Could Mr. Cooper truly see all that just by looking into my eyes?
