Previously: Booth shoots Lincoln and breaks leg in escape. Stanton’s henchman Lafayette Baker takes Christy’s body to an embalmer. Booth and Herold escape across the river in Maryland. Johnson takes the oath of office. Baker arrests Mrs. Surratt.
Gabby Zook dozed fitfully for several days in a small room at the Armory Square Hospital, his dreams filled with images of the private from the White House basement. The killer was always standing over the dying boy, admiring his handiwork. The red-haired young man’s mouth filled with blood from a gunshot wound. That mean man would find Gabby and kill him because he knew too much.
From time to time, Gabby’s screams brought a woman to his bedside, and she would stroke his sweat-drenched hair and tell him everything was going to be fine. How could everything be fine? Cordie was dead. The young man was dead. The president was dead. And if that mean man found him, Gabby would be dead.
After one particularly loud outburst, Gabby jumped from the bed and ran to the door.
“Cordie! Cordie! Where’s Cordie?”
The short, thin woman with her hair in a tight bun grasped his arms, gently turned him around and guided him back to the bed.
“That’s quite all right, Mr. Zook,” she whispered. “You’ve just had one of your nightmares. That’s all. This too shall pass.”
“Thank you, Miss.” He sat on the bed and looked up at her, his pale blue eyes watering. “You’ve told me your name before, but I can’t remember it.”
“I’m Dorothea Dix.”
“That’s right. Cordie told me about you. She said you could be a scary person, but down deep you were really very nice. And that’s true, isn’t it, Miss Dix? You are a nice person, aren’t you?”
“Well, I try to be,” she said with a faint smile. “Are you ready for some soup? You haven’t eaten for a while. I have some nice chicken soup if you are hungry.”
Gabby smacked his lips. “I think I am hungry.” He looked at her, and his eyes crinkled. “When I get scared I can’t eat much of anything, but I don’t feel scared now, so I’m beginning to feel hungry.”
“Then I will get you some.”
As Miss Dix stepped away, Gabby reached for her hand. “When Cordie died, did you take care of her like this?”
“Why, yes I did, but you’re not going to die, Mr. Zook.”
“It was in this room, wasn’t it?” Gabby looked around. “It just seems like a room where people would die.”
“Yes, quite a few people died in this room,” she replied. “But you’re going to live. Keep your mind busy with those thoughts. Life. What you’re going to do. Where you’re going to go. Happy things.”
Gabby felt the sleeve of his shirt and smelled it. “This is clean. How did it get clean? I haven’t worn clean clothes in a long time.”
“Oh, we took your clothes off you the first night you were here, Mr. Zook,” Miss Dix said. “You just don’t remember.”
“Even my long johns?”
“Yes. Everything is clean now.”
“Then—then I didn’t have clothes on?” Gabby’s eyes widened.
“Oh my, Mr. Zook! We see naked men all the time here in the hospital. Don’t think a thing about it. Now enough of your questions. I have to get your soup.”
When Miss Dix returned, she sat in the chair next to the bed as Gabby drank his soup. As drops of the chicken broth dribbled down his chin, she leaned over and wiped them with a napkin.
“Did I tell you I lived at the White House?” Gabby asked. He knew he could not remember things the way he used to.
“Your sister told me you were a janitor at the Executive Mansion. A very important place to work, indeed.”
“I didn’t really work there the last two and a half years as much as I just lived there. I was locked in the basement with the President and his wife. This short mean man with a beard made us live there.”
“That’s hard to believe, Mr. Zook.” She paused. “Slow down. You’re missing your mouth and getting soup all over yourself.”
“I know I’m not normal, Miss Dix.” Gabby put the soup bowl down to talk. “I get confused real easy. That’s why Cordie had to take care of me. One time, while I was in the basement, I even thought I was President of the United States.” He squinted. “Did I tell you that before?”
“It doesn’t make any difference. The important thing is that we find someone to take care of you now that Cordie is gone. Don’t worry about it. I think I’ve found the perfect person.”
The next day, Gabby awoke to soft voices outside his room. He knew one of them was Miss Dix. He did not recognize the man’s voice.
“Mr. Whitman, I am so glad you agreed to help,” Miss Dix said.
“As soon as I read your telegram I knew I had to come for him. Miss Zook was such a dear woman, and I understand their uncle Samuel Zook died at the battle of Gettysburg. This is my way of honoring our war dead.”
Gabby went to the door to peek out. The man standing with Miss Dix was not much taller than he was, but his shoulders inclined in a relaxed manner. Gabby sensed that he was not afraid of anything. But, he looked familiar. His hair. His eyes. He was a much younger man when Gabby met him, but it was the same man. But when? Where?
“Mr. Zook,” Miss Dix said. “I want you to meet the man who is going to take care of you, like your sister Cordie did. This is Walt Whitman, one of the kindest, gentlest men I have ever met in the world.”
“So you are Cordie Zook’s brother? She was a wonderful person. I will consider it an honor, Mr. Zook, if you would come to New York and live with my mother and me, at least for the time being. Mostly mother. I have my job as a clerk at the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Washington City. I come home on weekends. But don’t worry. You’ll like mother. In many ways, she’s like your sister Cordie. She’s very sympathetic to people with physical ailments but she labors under the delusion she has them all, even your own particular confusions. You don’t have to stay. But you won’t have to leave either. It will be your choice.”
Gabby frowned. He had heard that voice before. His eyes filled with tears.
“No, no, don’t cry.” Whitman reached out and patted his hands. “The time for tears has passed.”
“I know that voice. At the beach. You were watching my friend Joe and me. You said something about ocean waves. Let’s see. You said ocean waves taught you to see beyond the things on hand, as the ocean always points beyond the waves of the moment.”
“How did you know that?” Whitman smiled in surprise.
“You said that to Joe and me on the beach. It was on Long Island. A long time ago when I was young and Joe was alive. I remember stuff like that. I can’t remember what happened yesterday, but I remember what you said.”
Whitman patted him on the shoulder. “I think we shall become very good friends, Mr. Zook. Let’s pack your things, and we can take the afternoon train back to New York.”
“I don’t have things. Just the clothes on my back.”
“You have things now,” Miss Dix interjected. “We’ve scrounged around the hospital here to find you extra clothing and such. We even have a nice straw hamper for you to put them in.”
“By this evening we shall have supper with my mother and family,” Whitman said.
Gabby straightaway felt relaxed around this man, who explained with care everything they were going to do before they did it. First thing out of the hospital, Whitman told him they were going to find an omnibus to take them to the train station.
“We will have to stand in line to buy tickets but it wouldn’t take very long.” Before Gabby could ask, Whitman assured him, “I’m going to pay for the tickets, our food, anything that you might want.”
As they sat on the train going to New York City, Gabby looked out the window at the passing landscape, just evolving into its spring greenery, and remembered the last time he rode a train. Cordie held his hand all the way. Frowning, he also remembered the night President Lincoln died and how that mean man carried Adam Christy’s body from the basement of the Executive Mansion.
“Are you sure that mean man won’t find me in New York?” Gabby whispered.
“What? Oh, don’t worry,” Whitman replied as he leaned over and patted Gabby’s knee. “All the mean men will be caught soon. They have the man who stabbed Secretary of State Seward and the man who tried to shoot Vice-President Johnson and others. Soon they will find John Wilkes Booth. All the mean men will be in jail, and we won’t have to worry about them anymore.”
Gabby realized his new friend did not understand he was talking about another mean man, but he was too tired to explain it to him at the moment. Gabby had been very tired ever since that night he ran in the rain. Maybe when he got home to New York he would be able to relaxed and have a good night’s sleep. His mind wandered again back to the Long Island beach and the day he and his friend Joe were playing in the surf.
“Why were you watching Joe and me on the beach?” Gabby asked, continuing to look out the window.
“I’ve watched many people in my lifetime. You might say that’s what I do for a living. I watch people.”
“Does it pay well?”
“None at all.” Whitman paused. “But of all the jobs I’ve held I like it best.”
After they arrived at the New York train station, Gabby and Whitman took an omnibus to the East River where they caught a ferry across to Brooklyn. Gabby began to recognize familiar streets and buildings, feeling more as if he were home. They walked a good distance to North Portland Avenue. He smiled as he looked at the large brownstones.
“You must have money to live in a home as grand as one of these.”
Whitman laughed. “Oh no, we have to rent out most of our house to pay the bills. We live in the basement.”
“The basement.” Gabby stopped. “I don’t want to stay in another basement.”
“Don’t worry.” Whitman put his arm around Gabby’s sloped shoulders. “It’s nice. Mother makes it very homey.”
“Your mother is still alive? You’re very fortunate. My mother is dead.”
“Remember I told you about Mother. She may think she’s dying, but she’s really healthy as a horse. And we have a nice big family sharing our home. There’s my brother Eddy. You’ll like him. He’s a cripple. Sometimes he gets very mad and screams, but don’t let that bother you. And my older brother Jesse can tell you stories about being a sailor. He’s a bit crotchety. He has a disease called syphilis. Do you know what that is?”
“Bad people get that, don’t they?”
“Not bad. Just unlucky. Then there’s George. He’s a carpenter. Nice but rather boring. And my favorite brother Jeff who has a wife and baby. You don’t mind babies, do you?”
“Babies are nice. I just don’t know how to take care of them.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” Whitman stopped in front of some imposing steps. “Here we are, 106. You need to remember that in case we ever get separated when we are out and about. One hundred and six North Portland Avenue.”
“Yes, I’m good at numbers,” Gabby replied. “I’ll say, point me in the direction of 106 North Portland Avenue, please.”
“Very good.” Whitman guided Gabby who clutched his straw hamper close to his chest down steps to the basement door. “Remember, you are among family now. You don’t have to be afraid.”
As soon as Whitman opened the door, Gabby jumped back when he heard the screaming of men and women and a baby crying. A chair, somewhere, went crashing to the floor. Whitman smiled and took Gabby’s arm.
“Well, it is a boisterous family, but they mean well. And no one hardly ever gets hurt. Don’t worry. We’ll spend most of our time with more interesting people. You’ll like the tavern. And the people in Greenwich Village are friendly. Trust me. I’ll take care of you.”