Previously: War Secretary Stanton holds the Lincolns and janitor Gabby Zook captive in the White House basement. Private Adam Christy takes guard duties. Duff and Alethia become Lincoln impostors. After two years of deceit, love and death, the war is over. Duff tells Lamon the Lincolns are in Baltimore and urges him to take Alethia away.
The next morning Adam balanced the breakfast tray with one hand as he unlocked the billiards room door. He heard Mary Lincoln fuss about packing.
“I know that woman ruined all my dresses,” she fumed, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s stolen all my finest toiletries and unmentionables.”
“Excuse me.” Adam entered, keeping his head down and going to the billiards table.
“You would come in as I was talking about my unmentionables.” She lifted her nose and sniffed. After a pause she added, “Thank you for retrieving my items for me as I required them during our time down here.”
Adam watched out of the corner of his eye as Mrs. Lincoln plopped things into a box. She paused to consider the bottle of laudanum in her hand.
“How many bottles of this have I used since living in the basement?”
“I don’t know, ma’am,” he replied
“The partial bottle you brought down here the first day, and this one,” she said, answering her own question. “It’s close to empty now.” Pausing, Mrs. Lincoln looked at Adam, her eyes softened. “A bottle used to last a month. Who would think I’d need only two bottles in two years.” A smile flickered across her face. “Perhaps I’m stronger than I thought.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Adam hoped that was the proper response; with Mrs. Lincoln he rarely knew. It apparently was appropriate, because she nodded, sat, and sipped her coffee.
As he had for most of his time in the basement, Lincoln stayed behind the French lace curtain. Adam’s routine was to leave his plate on the billiards table so Lincoln could retrieve it when he wanted. Yet on this morning, Adam felt the urge to speak to Lincoln, so he took the plate to the edge of the curtain.
“Mr. President.,” Adam cleared. “May I bring in your breakfast?”
“If you like,” Lincoln replied.
Lincoln, dressed in a shirt and trousers, was sitting on the cot when Adam brought the plate in and placed it beside him.
“Thank you, Private Christy.” He looked at Adam, who was standing on one foot and then the other. “Something on your mind?”
“Yes, sir.” His eyes looked away.
“Sit down, please.”
Settling on the edge of Lincoln’s cot, Adam tried to compose his thoughts so that the president would not think he was a bigger fool than he already believed himself to be.
“Mr. President, I wish to take this opportunity to express my sincere apologies for carrying out Mr. Stanton’s orders.”
“Well said.” Lincoln sipped his black coffee. “Please don’t continue. Your innocence was as plain as the spots on a speckled pup the first day you pulled your revolver on me.”
“Thank you, sir.” He paused, trying to compose his thoughts further. “Life will be better now the war’s over.”
“Well,” Lincoln said with a drawl, his eyes darting up with sad amusement, “don’t expect too much.” After chewing on a dry piece of toast, he swallowed. “Let me give you some advice. Don’t look outside yourself to find happiness.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know what that means?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Your honesty is intact.” Lincoln sighed in resignation. “The war’s over, yes. The conflict continues. The Union will go on, yes; but we won’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ah.” Lincoln looked at Adam. “Don’t give up your honesty. You know exactly what I mean; it’s just that it’s too awful to accept.”
Adam’s face flushed, and he could not speak.
“I’ve scared you,” Lincoln said. “Don’t be afraid. Why be afraid of things you can’t change?”
“Yes, sir.” Adam stood, nodded, and left through the curtains, where he faced Mrs. Lincoln quietly eating her eggs at the billiards table.
“I hope your breakfast is to your taste,” Adam hesitantly offered.
“It’s fine.” Mrs. Lincoln paused to chew daintily. “It was always fine.” Patting her lips with her napkin, she put it down and pushed the plate away. “I complained to punish you. I focused my anger on you.” She looked at him with compassion. “Mr. Stanton’s the one I should have abused; but, unfortunately, he wasn’t here and you were.” Mrs. Lincoln reached out to pat his hand. “I’m wicked,” she said in a whisper. “I knew very well your mother died when you were a child. I played upon your soft disposition to get what I wanted, and when that didn’t work, I hurt you as your mother’s death hurt you.”
“Thank you, but I should have behaved more like a gentleman.”
“Your sins are trivial compared to mine. Please let it go. We’ve the rest of our lives now to be good people.”
Adam furrowed his brow.
“You frown?”
“Mr. Gabby’s sister died last night at Armory Square Hospital. Her last words were for him.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Lincoln’s hand went to her cheek. “How sad. I’d never seen such devotion between brother and sister.” She looked into his eyes. “I could tell him for you.”
“I thought he wasn’t talking to you.”
“We settled all that last night. Just as you and I have settled our differences now.”
“I appreciate your offer,” Adam said, “but I promised her I would tell him.”
“I understand,” she replied.