Previously: War Secretary Stanton holds the Lincolns and janitor Gabby Zook captive under guard in the White House basement.Private Adam Christy takes guard duties. Alethia is plucked from prison to play Mary Lincoln. Christy kisses the cook Phebe. Neal the butler becomes jealous.
Gabby’s head turned sharply when he thought he heard the crash of a plate. Something was happening out there, he could sense it, and his body shook with fear. Since that morning in August when he had been able to think again, Gabby had become increasingly nervous, never knowing when his mind would clear and when it would cloud, when the people in the basement with him would be nice and when they would be mean, and when would he ever see Cordie again.
Mrs. Lincoln came to the edge of Gabby’s crates and barrels. He shuddered, wondering if he had done something wrong again.
“Mr. Gabby,” she said, “may I come in for a visit?”
“That’s all right, ma’am.” He stood. “I’ll come out.”
“No, I don’t mind.” She swept around the corner and stood just inside his curtain and smiled. “Sit, so we can chat.”
Chatting with her husband, that is what she should be doing, Gabby thought. It was not right for her to be chatting with him. Cordie should be chatting with him, but she could not, because he had to be in the basement and she had to be at the hospital tending sick soldiers.
“Please sit.”
“All right.” Gabby sat on the far end of his pallet.
“Mr. Gabby, do you remember the things you told me?”
“What things?”
“Sweet things.” She sat on his pallet.
“Did you hear a crash or something?”
“No. You’re right about Mr. Stanton.”
“I thought I heard a crash. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
“He’s evil.”
“I don’t even know what month this is.” He looked at her. “What month is this?”
“It’s the middle of October.” She clenched her jaw. “Pay attention to me. You’re right about Mr. Stanton being evil.”
“Then it’s been two months since…”
“Only an evil man would put good people in an awful place like this.”
“There were rats here.”
“Yes, you told me.”
“I think I caught them all.”
“Thank you.” She sighed deeply and closed her eyes.
“You’re welcome.”
“Mr. Stanton’s calling people by the wrong names. There’s people upstairs he’s calling Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln.”
“I know.”
“He’s calling you Mr. Gabby…”
“He doesn’t call me Mr. Gabby,” he interrupted. “He doesn’t call me anything.”
“But you’re Mr. Lincoln, my husband and president of the United States.”
“What?” Could those thoughts lingering in the back of his mind be true?
“For reasons known only to himself, Mr. Stanton calls the White House janitor Mr. Lincoln, and you the janitor.”
“Oh.”
“But this has gone on too long. It can’t continue. When Private Christy comes in with the clean chamber pots, jump him, wrestle him down, and get the keys so we can escape. You can do it.”
“All right.” Gabby knew he was strong. He remembered how he could wrestle Joe into submission every time they wrestled on Long Island beach. But if he were Lincoln, how would he know Joe? Maybe Joe had been Lincoln’s friend, but that meant they had to be from Illinois. How could they have wrestled on Long Island beach? Gabby fretted. Maybe it had been on the shores of the Ohio River.
“So when Private Christy comes in,” Mrs. Lincoln was saying, “I’ll distract him, and you jump him and get the keys.”
“You don’t want me to kill him, do you?”
“No.” A shadow crossed her face. “I don’t want him dead. I just want to be free.”
“Should we take Mr. Zook with us?” Gabby asked. “After all, he might have a sister or somebody waiting for him.”
“Yes, we’ll take Mr. Zook with us.” Mrs. Lincoln smiled. “I wouldn’t want to leave him behind.”
“Good,” he replied. “He needs to see his sister.”
Adam unlocked the door, fumbling with the pots. Both Gabby and Mrs. Lincoln jerked their heads to the door.
“I’ve got to go.” She stood. With a flourish of her billowing skirt, she disappeared through the curtains.
Gabby went to the edge of the crates and barrels to listen.
“Mrs. Lincoln,” Adam said, “are you busy right now? I mean, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Of course,” she replied. Looking at him closely, she added, “Private Christy, you’ve a touch of blood at your temple.”
“I know. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“Come over here, and I’ll straighten everything out for you.”
Gabby stepped out around the corner to see that Adam had left all three chamber pots by the door. He stood next to Mrs. Lincoln by the billiards table, his back to Gabby. Looking down at the chamber pots, he wondered if he should use one to bash Adam’s head. No, that would kill him, and they just wanted to be free.
“I did a bad thing tonight,” Adam said.
“Tell me what you did, and I’ll tell you whether it was bad or not.” Mrs. Lincoln looked over Adam’s shoulder to make eye contact with Gabby. Get it over with, she seemed to be saying.
“I kissed Phebe.”
“The colored cook?” Her eyebrow rose.
“Yes. I know it was wrong. She hit me with a plate.”
Gabby knew he had heard something. He frowned. He liked Phebe. She was one of the few people he ever knew who treated him nice. Adam was right. He did a bad thing.
“Was it one of the good plates?” Mrs. Lincoln asked, holding her breath.
“No.”
“That’s good,” she said in a murmur. “Did the girl do anything to provoke you, make you think she wanted you to kiss her?”
Gabby did not like that question. Phebe was a good girl. She would not do anything like that. She was too honest. Gabby was ready to hit somebody.
“No, not really, I guess,” Adam replied.