Ignorance was truly bliss. A host of illegal activities had taken place over the last couple of weeks. The illegality had never bothered her. It was the danger the men had risked which would feed her nightmares.
“Have you talked to Stanton?” she asked.
“Before they would release Jack, I had a sit-down with Generals Holt and Hunter and Secretary Stanton. They wanted to know the name of the informant who passed me confidential information. I told them there was no security leak. When they pressed me for specifics, I told them once ye and Jack were safely away from Washington, I would divulge my source.”
“What will you tell them?”
Cullen rolled his eyes toward her dramatically. “He’s throwing Gaylord under the cart.”
“What? You’re not. Not after all he’s done for us.” She ran her hand gently over her face, trying to adjust to this information.
Gaylord was the first of the men to howl with laughter. “Don’t worry, Miss Charlotte. I worked for the colonel in California, and came to Washington with him. When General Grant found my skills useful I adopted the code name Gaylord. Tomorrow I’ll head back to California and reclaim my identity. The colonel can throw me under the cart. Stanton will never find me unless I want to be found. Like you, ma’am, I have several disguises.”
“Will you tell me your real name?” she asked.
“Henry Bayford.”
She gave him a worried frown. “What about the men who were promised jobs?”
Gaylord lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “There were no guarantees. They’ll get a bonus.”
“So it’s all over?” she asked.
Jack stooped forward as if he bore a terrific weight. The indirect lighting in the room exaggerated the hollows of his drawn face, and there was a haunting behind his eyes. He nodded, squeezing her hand. “This part of it is. We’ll talk about the changes in our lives later.” His voice thickened, and he fell silent.
Time stopped for a heartbeat, and she looked at him through tears flooding her eyes. “Did Braham tell you about our memories?”
Jack took a shuddering, sighing breath. “He explained it on the way home. I’m so sorry, sis.”
She hugged him and held him as tightly as she could. “We’ll adjust to whatever we find when we get home. We have each other and nothing else matters.”
Memories of their ordeals would linger, but they would have each other, whether Jack lived in the two-hundred-year-old mansion from his memories or the chrome and glass condo from hers.
An expression came over Braham’s features she had never seen before—a look of sorrow, regret, and weariness mingled with relief. The war, his suffering, and the trial had worn him down and changed him irrevocably. It was time for him to go home, too. Time to rest, nurture his vines, and recover. With his war record and courtroom victory, his future was guaranteed. Although he was raised in Scotland, he was born in America. He could run for president of the United States.
She swallowed painfully. The two men she loved most in the world were hurting, and she was powerless to help them. All she could do was love them.
She opened the brass-mounted mahogany humidor on the table in front of the sofa. “Break out the cheroots, boys, and pour me another drink. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”
93
Washington City, 1865
Charlotte and Braham lay snuggled in each other’s arms. His heart was beating fast. She could feel it as though it pulsed in her hand, and she took comfort in the warm familiarity of his body. They had made love in a slow, erotic, and passionate tango.
Later, he had teased her playfully, and she had expressed her pleasure in moans loud enough for the entire household to hear. She didn’t care. This was their last night, and they were the only two people in her world. Their bond, forged in trust, was an incredible aphrodisiac. He had awakened her at least twice more, pulling her to him with urgency, his hunger for her insatiable.
The room was dark, although a slice of the moon showed thought the split in the curtain. She scooted closer to him, and he spooned against her back, his arm around her. The gentle rise and fall of his breath blew softly across her shoulder until at last they slept.
Now the bedcovers were askew, and she shivered slightly in the early morning chill. Braham must have sensed her need for warmth. He snugged her closer to his side, and she drifted back to sleep. She woke again as the sun crept through the partially open drapes. Braham was gone, and his side of the bed no longer held the heat from his body.
She would not stay abed without him. Quickly, she bathed, mourning the loss of his musky scent on her skin. After dressing in a traveling gown, she packed her medical kit. She needed nothing else. The rest of the beautiful dresses would stay and could be given to the staff or sold. She wouldn’t need them. Her reenacting days were over. But she did want her grandmother’s cameo she had previously left behind.
The open knitting basket sat on the table by the window. She dug through the contents looking for the brooch, and gasped when she found the piece of jewelry. The pin on the back of the cameo linked itself with the pin on the back of…the sapphire brooch. How on earth?
She collapsed in the chair, holding the jewelry in her hands. It could have stayed lost for all she cared. If she didn’t want it, what was she going to do with it, besides keep it away from Jack? If she confessed now that she’d found it, then she, Jack, and David, could return to the present from Washington instead of traveling back to Kentucky.
Jack
