Lincoln in the Basement Chapter Fifteen

War Secretary Stanton placed President and Mrs. Lincoln under guard in the White House basement and placed lookalikes upstairs so he could control how the war was conducted. Assigned to look over the Lincolns was Pvt. Adam Christy who was smitten at first sight of nurse Jessie Home.
When the two women drew closer, Adam stepped up and said, “Excuse me, are you Miss Cordie Zook?”
“Oh my goodness.” Her eyes widened in apprehension. “Has something happened to Gabby?” She looked in desperation at the tall young woman with red hair. “I was afraid this was going to happen. I should have never let—”
“No, ma’am; your brother is all right. He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s fine.”
“Then where is he?” Cordie’s large, liquid blue eyes searched Adam’s face intently. “Why isn’t he here?”
“He’s in the White House—” Adam stopped abruptly. “Um, he’s in the White House, and he’s fine, but he can’t come home. Right now, at least.”
“I don’t understand,” Cordie said.
The tall young woman with the red hair stepped forward and smiled confidently at Adam as she observed his uniform. “I hate to tell ye, Private, but you’re not makin’ yourself very clear at all.” She spoke with a distinct Scottish brogue. “Perhaps it’d be better if ye introduced yourself and explain how ye have all this wonderful knowledge of comin’s and goin’s at the president’s house?”
This woman was the most beautiful and intriguing female Adam had ever seen. It took him several seconds to find his voice.
“I’m Private Adam Christy, personal adjutant to President Abraham Lincoln. President Lincoln has ordered Mr. Gabby Zook to remain in the White House for an indeterminate amount of time—for security reasons.”
“For security reasons?” The young woman almost broke into laughter.
Cordie shook her head in bewilderment. “What does indeterminate mean?”
“It means he doesn’t know when your brother will come home.” The young woman put her arm around Cordie’s shoulders. “Isn’t that the truth, Private Christy?”
“Yes, miss,” he said. “It is.”
“But Gabby needs me,” Cordie replied, shaking her head. She looked at Adam. “You seen my brother, ain’t you?”
He nodded.
“Then you know. Gabby needs me. He can’t take care of himself. You know. You’ve seen him. I can’t—he needs me…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes went from Adam to the young woman.
“He’s fine, Miss Zook. We’re taking care of him,” he said. “I mean, I’m taking care of him. I mean, he’s being taken care of. You don’t have to worry.”
“But I have to worry about Gabby,” Cordie insisted. “On mama’s deathbed she made me promise to always worry about Gabby.”
“You don’t have to worry,” he repeated, trying to comfort her.
“Gabby was the smart one when we was young,” she continued, ignoring Adam. “He was like Uncle Sammy. He went to West Point. Then something happened.” Cordie shook her head. “Then he needed me. Nobody ever needed me as much as Gabby.”
“Now, I’m sure this nice young man will be very happy to meet us here every evenin’ to let ye know how brother Gabby is doin’.” She hugged Cordie. “Won’t ye be pleased to do just that, Private Christy?” She looked Adam squarely in the eyes.
“I don’t know.” He shuffled his feet and looked down. “I might be busy.” Finding his gumption, Adam turned up his face and returned her gaze. “After all, I am President Lincoln’s aide.”
“Really?” She laughed and tossed her head. “Ye can’t take a few minutes of your busy day for a dear sweet lady concerned about her beloved brother?”
“Please.” Cordie impulsively grabbed his hands and squeezed. “I must know how Gabby is. I won’t be able to sleep at night if I don’t know how he’s doing. I don’t think he could sleep at night, if he didn’t know I knew how he was doing.”
“Surely a handsome young man like yourself couldn’t ignore such a plea.” She touched his pocked cheek.
“Not handsome.” Adam mumbled, pulling his head back.
“Such a lovely head.” Not to be deterred, the young woman reached and touched his thick, red hair. “Ye must be of me blood. Scottish blood. No man is more handsome than a highlander.”
“Pa has red hair.” He shook his head to rid it of her soft, warm caress. “I really don’t know where mother’s folks came from.”
“These bother ye, don’t they?” She gently put her fingertips on the larger pock marks on his cheeks. “They shouldn’t, ye know. If ye didn’t have them, ye would be altogether too pretty. The scars make ye manly, ever so attractive for a lass like me.”
Adam opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out at first, so choked with emotion at the warm touch of her palm. His eyes went from Cordie, whose face was contorted with worry, to the Scottish girl and her sweet smile.
“Will you come with her? Each day?”
“But of course, Private Christy.” She hugged Cordie again. “Miss Dorothea Dix would have it no other way.”
“Who?” Adam wrinkled his brow.
“Miss Dorothea Dix,” she repeated. “Superintendent of Women Nurses. Faith, I thought everyone in Washington knew of the great pious lady of healing.”
“I’m new to the city.” Adam could not keep his eyes away from her.
“So you’ll meet us here each evening with news from Gabby?” Cordie ventured a smile.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt anything.” Adam caught his breath and added, “But don’t tell anyone.”
“Who, pray tell, would care to know what two unattached ladies do on their way home from a day of honest labor at Armory Square Hospital?” The girl laughed.
“That Miss Nix,” Adam said.
“No, Dix. Dorothea Dix.” She corrected him with an impish grin. “And, no, she won’t ask. She may think she wants to know the comin’s and goin’s of all the nurses under her command, but she knows better now about tellin’ me how to live me life.”
“Don’t boast too much, dear.” Cordie touched her arm. “Miss Dix is a mighty important person. I’d not risk your words getting back to her.”
“And what if they did?” She looked at Adam again. “Ye wouldn’t tell her, would ye, Private Christy?”
“Oh no,” he said. “I don’t want her to know anything about me.”
“Don’t worry. I know how to handle her.” She held her head high. “The first day I saw her at Armory Square Hospital, I knew all about her. An elderly lady, fragile, with a thin neck but a huge bun of hair pulled so tight she must have an eternal headache. And there she sat on the edge of an injured boy’s cot, readin’ the Holy Scriptures. Faith, if there weren’t tears in both their eyes. I suppose it was because he felt he didn’t have long to live, with both legs chopped off at the knees. I walked up to her and said I was fresh off the boat from Scotland where I had tended to me mother as she died of pneumonia. I wanted to volunteer as a nurse.
“Now, when those blue-gray eyes looked me over, she smiled and said, ‘No, thank ye, dear, we won’t be needin’ ye.’ Well, I put my hands on my hips and said, ‘Now, ma’am, I’ve heard nothin’ but how the Union needs nurses.’ She pursed her lips a bit as she closed the Bible, stood, and looked me in the face. ‘I don’t want these young men’s hearts broken along with their bodies. I can’t take a chance on a pretty young woman.’”
She paused to smile ironically.
“I wasn’t about to let that stop me. So I said, ‘Is it pretty I am, Miss Dix?’ And she said in a voice that sounded like it didn’t want to pick a fight but was ready to stand tough, she said, ‘Of course, me dear, ye are pretty, young, and, from what I have observed in the last few moments, ye are on the cusp of flirtatiousness which definitely is dangerous to weakened young men.’ Then I asked her, ‘If ye had your way—and evidently ye do—no pretty girls will work at Armory Square Hospital?’ Without blinkin’ her blue-gray eyes, she simply said yes.”
Adam merely smiled, completely infatuated.
“I said, ‘Then ye must leave this hospital, Miss Dix, post haste.’ Her little mouth opened, and a bigger sound than I’d have expected exploded from her thin lips. ‘I beg your pardon!?’ Without a word I walked past her and sat on the edge of the cot of the poor unfortunate lad to whom she had just been readin’. He had drifted off to sleep apparently, but at the touch of my hand on his shoulder his eyes opened. ‘Who’s the most beautiful woman ye have seen today?’ I asked him.”
“He said you, didn’t he?” Adam said.
“Ye don’t know men as well as I do, Private Christy,” she replied. “I knew he’d look up and smile at Miss Dix and say, ‘She is.’ I told her, ‘Miss Dix, to these men your kindness, gentleness, your unconditional love, make ye beautiful, and, therefore, according to your rules, an extreme threat to the fragile emotional health of our soldiers.’ For a wee moment I thought I may have overstepped me bounds, but then Miss Dix smiled and said, ‘Ye may start tomorrow.’”
“I don’t understand.” Adam shook his head.
“Private Christy, beauty is not here,” she said, touching his cheek, “but here.” Her hand moved to his chest.
“If we can’t see Gabby,” Cordie said as she tugged at the girl’s sleeve, “we better go. It’s getting late.”
“I’ll tell your brother I talked to you and everything is all right,” Adam said, trying to be soothing. “And I’ll meet you here this same time tomorrow.”
“He’ll need a quilt.” Cordie nodded as she turned to leave. “Tell Gabby I’m making him a quilt.”
“Good.” The girl put her arm around Cordie. “Then it’s all settled.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “See ye tomorrow. And don’t be late. Miss Cordie gets mighty frightful to be out after dusk, even with a chaperone.”
“I promise.” After a pause, Adam jumped and waved his hand at the receding figures. “What’s your name?”
“Jessie Home. Ye know what they say. There’s no place like home.”
Adam continued waving as they disappeared into the dark, one hand touching his face where her fingers had caressed his pock-marked cheek.

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