Previously: Stanton holds the Lincolns and janitor Gabby captive in the White House basement. Private Adam Christy takes guard duties. After two years of deceit, love and death, the war is over. Stanton forces Adam into a final conspiracy. Adam’s girlfriend Jessie becomes ill.
Adam turned back to Jessie and touched her shoulder.
“Please go away,” she murmured.
“Don’t you know? You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He took a cloth, dunked it in a bowl, squeezed it, and wiped her brow. “Maybe if I sit here long enough, wipe away enough perspiration, you’ll finally realize how much I love you.”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late. I love you,” he whispered as he rested his head against her shoulder. “Please tell me you love me too.”
“I’m so tired.” Jessie could hardly form the words.
“Please tell me you love me.”
Her hand weakly reached up to his and patted it, then went down to her side. Adam heard her breathing. It was shallow. He leaned over to kiss her cheek, then walked out of the ward at a pace so fast the nurses and patients could not notice his wet, red eyes. Instead of taking the omnibus, he trotted across the Mall and the iron bridge over the slough. His racing heart helped his mind to clear. Jessie was young and strong. She must survive.
He walked up the service drive to the Executive Mansion. He picked up the luncheon tray, and delivered it, hardly noticing the Lincolns and Gabby. Instead Adam concentrated on Jessie’s pat on his hand. It had to mean she loved him, Adam told himself, as he went up to the second floor.
“Private!” Tad called out when he appeared in the hall. “I haven’t seen you in the last few days! Richmond is a mess!” He hugged Adam. “Did you see the parade last night? It was great!”
Adam could not look at the boy who had his arms around him. He could not look into the eyes that in two days would be filled with tears because Adam had conspired to have his father assassinated, but he did return Tad’s embrace.
“Yes, the parade, that was fun,” Adam mumbled.
“You’re gonna stay, ain’t you?” Tad looked up at him. “After Friday, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. “I’m a soldier. I never know where the army will send me.”
“I hope they let you stay here,” he said with a big smile. Running down the hall to the grand staircase, he yelled for Tom Pen.
When Adam entered the president’s office, he found the double in a pensive mood.
“Sir? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, thank you.” Duff paused. “Are you staying after we leave?”
“No, sir.”
“Then run away now. Go out West. Pan for gold. Don’t finish their game.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“My girlfriend—my friend—is sick. I can’t leave her.”
“Very well.” He looked at Adam. “Is she very ill?”
“We think it’s influenza.”
“Oh.” He put his head in his hands. “Then maybe it’s for the best.”
Seeing Lincoln’s double recede into his thoughts, Adam went down the hall to knock on Mrs. Lincoln’s bedroom door.
“Who is it?”
“Private Christy, ma’am.”
“Come in.”
Opening the door, Adam found her in the same pensive mood as the president’s double. She was more melancholy today than he had seen her since they had met. Of all the characters in Stanton’s plan, she was the only one who was always optimistic, which had many times lifted his own spirits. He wished he could say something to make her feel better.
“Do you need anything, Mrs. Lincoln?”
“No, thank you.”
“Do you need any help with your packing?”
“No. You’re very kind.”
“If you don’t mind, I want to go to Armory Square Hospital this afternoon. I have a sick friend there.”
“Of course.”
Adam exited quietly and went downstairs to clean the chamber pots, which did not bother him as much as it usually did, because his mind was on Jessie, hoping they would have a future together. Walking through the kitchen with the pots, he ignored Phebe, which had become easier to do over the last few days. After the last pot had been washed and returned, Adam ran out the service entrance and down the street to the Mall, across the iron bridge to the Smithsonian and on to the hospital.
Huffing, Adam stopped inside the ward door as he saw a couple of orderlies carry a small body wrapped in a sheet from the back room. His mouth dropped when they passed, and he saw a tuft of red hair peeking from the top of the sheet. In the distance, Miss Dix daubed her eyes, and the strange man patted her shoulder. Adam walked to them.
“I knew she should have gone home,” Miss Dix said in a small voice.
“A true American patriot.” The strange man, his eyes welling with tears, looked at Adam. “An immigrant, fresh from Scotland, devoted herself, body and soul, to mending boys broken by war. She gave all she had and, when the war was over, she made the ultimate sacrifice for her new homeland.”
Adam looked from one to the other, wondering what Jessie’s last words had been, hoping they had been about him. But she was gone now, and her last words did not matter. His life did not matter. His thoughts turned to Gabby.
“Sir, Miss Zook’s brother needs someone.” Adam’s eyes were pleading. “May I send him to you? Can you help him?”
“I’m sorry, my young friend, but death has been upon me too much the last few days. Miss Zook’s life slipped away. And Miss Home—it’s happened so quickly. I wanted her to live. I wanted her to love you. You and Miss Home were my remedy to war. Love conquers all, I thought, but evidently not.” He shook his gray head. “I must go home.” He smiled sadly. “I need my mother.”
“You can’t desert us,” Miss Dix cried. “We need you.”
“I’ll be back,” he replied. “I don’t know when. Not long.”
Miss Dix reached out to touch Adam. “Send the poor man to me,” she said. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Thank you.” He smiled. “Thank you both.”
Adam turned to leave, knowing he would never see them again. As he walked back to the Executive Mansion, the clouds parted to reveal the sun. In the middle of the Mall, Adam realized how silent it was for a busy Thursday afternoon. Silence still sounded like death to Adam, but, he decided, death comforted him. It made the pain go away.