Precious daughter, I give the gift of free will.
The thought came at her from every direction, yet from no direction. Her eyes popped open and looked at the faces bowed around her. The voice had not come from outside of her, yet neither had it been her own. She ducked her head again and squeezed her eyes shut.
Father?
I Am.
Chills ran along her body and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Peace flooded over her, and tears welled anew. They flowed down her face, though this time not in sorrow, but in the joy of feeling a peaceful presence so near that the rips in her soul began to knit together. She breathed deeply, enjoying the warm feeling that cascaded through her.
Take heart, dear one. I will always be near.
Annabelle clutched her hands together and pressed them to her chest. A chorus of “Amen” bounded around the room, causing Annabelle to lift her head and rejoin her surroundings. Yet among the heavy air of the funeral, she felt a new lightness in her soul that battled against her dark thoughts.
Annabelle tried to shift her tired feet, but was pressed so closely by others that she feared bumping into anyone should she move too much. How long had they been here? Hours, it seemed, though she could not rightly tell. Another man stepped forward for a prayer, though his was blessedly much shorter than the last. Not that Annabelle minded praying, but she was beginning to overheat in all this velvet and press of bodies.
After the final conclusion, they began to file out of the room. It took some time to reach the freshness of the outdoors. Below the portico, the crowd had thickened since they had been inside. Annabelle glanced up at the sun and guessed it to be around two in the afternoon. She spotted Peggy under the shade tree and joined her there.
“Are you well, Peggy? You’ve been standing here nearly two hours.”
Peggy tilted her head. “I’s fine, Miss Belle. Don’t be worrying on account of me.”
“The procession will come down Pennsylvania Avenue and to the rotunda at the Capitol,” Grandmother stated, tugging the bow of her bonnet tight.
“Another service?”
“Yes, dear. From what I understand, there are to be many in the coming days. They are going to transport him by train across the country, where they will have services along the way until he is returned to Springfield.”
Annabelle nodded dumbly, ashamed that she dreaded another service.
“We shall watch the procession come by, and then I believe I shall need to retire. You two are welcome to remain.”
“No, Grandmother. I have paid my respects and think it would be better that I return to the hotel.”
“Yes, of course, dear.”
After a few moments, they watched the president, hoisted by several men, be carried out of the White House. The pall bearers joined the lines of formed ranks of Union soldiers in the street. The tired trio of women stayed until the last of the procession passed by, and then began the long trudge back to the hotel.
“The country is not what it was. This forced union is not what I have loved. I care not what becomes of me. I have no desire to outlive my country.”
John Wilkes Booth
Washington
April 24, 1865
Annabelle stared at the print sheet hanging outside the National Hotel and chewed her bottom lip. She’d not heard from Matthew since they had parted ways at the police station, and this poster only deepened her concern. The longer Booth remained free, the longer Matthew would be out there.
War Department, Washington
$100,000 Reward!
The Murderer of our late beloved president, Abraham Lincoln, is still at large.
She slipped her fingers into her pocket and rubbed the smooth contours of the silver horse Matthew had given her for her twentieth day of birth. Well, at least the Union government had spared no expense in seeing the man captured. One hundred thousand! She could only imagine. That kind of sum could restore Rosswood—it could give her the chance to start over. She leaned in closer and studied the faces of the men printed on the broadsheet. Perhaps if Matthew received something for his part….
But no. He served the Union Army now. Anything he found would belong to it. She sighed and turned her attention back to the street. Wind tugged at her hair, and she adjusted her bonnet. Each clop of hooves and crunch of carriage wheels drew her glance, but so far Lilly and Gunter had yet to arrive. It seemed to have taken Gunter longer than expected to secure George’s papers, but the last telegram said that they would arrive on the train today, and Annabelle had insisted on being the one to greet them.
A black carriage pulled by a mismatched pair of horses rolled to a stop in front of the hotel. Annabelle took a step closer as the driver ambled down from his perch. Before he had a chance to reach the door, it swung open and Gunter’s large frame squeezed out.
His gaze immediately landed on Annabelle, and she offered him a bright smile. He lifted his hand in greeting, and then turned to offer assistance to the lady inside. Lilly Rose emerged from the carriage and lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun. The driver, who had just reached the door, shot an annoyed glance at Gunter as he took Lilly’s arm.
Annabelle hurried forward and threw her arms around Lilly. “Oh! You’ve finally made it!”
Lilly stiffened, then gave a small pat on Annabelle’s arm before pulling free. When Annabelle looked into her eyes, however, their warm depths were filled with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Well, now, it’s nice to see you as well, Miss Ross.”
The driver and Gunter hefted three traveling trunks and plopped them on the ground, which brought a flurry of activity from the hotel boys at the door. In a matter of moments, all three were plucked from the ground and disappeared inside.
Gunter fished money out of his pocket to press into the waiting hand of the driver. Without a word, the man swung back into his seat and slapped the reins across the horses’ backs. Gunter watched him go, then looked up at the National Hotel.
He let out a low whistle. “I never see such a hotel,” he said in his thick German accent.
“Nor I,” Annabelle agreed, tugging on Lilly’s hand. “Come, Grandmother is eager to see you.”
Lilly allowed Annabelle to pull her along, and the three soon caught up to the boys carrying the trunks on the staircase. She didn’t bother wondering how they knew which rooms to deliver them to without being told. No doubt Grandmother had already made sure the staff knew to be watching for her belongings.
Lilly looked up at the massive chandeliers glittering overhead with much the same awe Annabelle had felt when she’d first arrived. Annabelle patted Lilly’s arm. “Where is Frankie?”
Lilly’s features tightened. “Anka is keeping him until I return.”
Of course. Such a trip would be difficult on a little one. Still, Annabelle would have liked to have seen the little cherub.
Grandmother’s door stood open and boys were delivering one trunk to her room while the other two stood waiting outside Annabelle’s own. She fished out the key from her skirt pocket and turned it in the lock, gesturing for them to enter.
She glanced at Lilly, who appeared nervous, then turned to address Gunter, but he had not followed them inside.
After giving her thanks to the boys for delivering the items, one of whom stood staring at her with a silly grin for a bit too long, and seeing them out the door, she and Lilly stepped back into the hallway. They could hear Gunter’s robust laughter drifting from Grandmother’s room.
The sound warmed Annabelle’s heart, even if it felt out of place among the hushed mourning of the city. Lilly trailed along behind her, eyes downcast. Annabelle stepped into Grandmother’s room and saw her elder digging through the trunk on the floor.
“Did you get everything I asked you to bring, Lilly?” Grandmother asked without even looking up.
“Yes, ma’am. I made sure of it,” Lilly replied, slipping around Annabelle and to stand by Grandmother’s side. She leaned close and whispered so
mething Annabelle couldn’t hear. Grandmother gave a nod and closed the lid, straightening her back.
“Very good.” Grandmother turned to Gunter. “And you have the papers?”
Gunter reached into the inner pocket of his silk-lined jacket and plucked the papers free.
Odd attire for a stable man, Annabelle thought.
Gunter must have thought the same. “This fancy coat’s as slick as a new foal, Frau Smith.”
Grandmother waved her hand. “I needed a gentleman to escort Lilly Rose. Not a stable hand.”
Gunter grunted. “But stable man is what I am, Frau.”
Grandmother shrugged her thin shoulders and plucked the papers from Gunter’s hand. She unfolded them and scanned the contents. Her shoulders relaxed. “Good. This is exactly what we need.”
“May I see them?” Annabelle asked.
Grandmother handed the papers over, and Annabelle studied the scrawled name at the bottom. George Daniels. She drew the papers to her chest. “Let’s be on our way, then.”
“Shall I wait for you here, Mrs. Smith?” Lilly asked as they began to make their way out the door.
Grandmother paused. “I expected you to want to come with us.”
Lilly’s eyebrows pulled together and her gaze darted away. “Why?”
“Don’t be silly, girl. Let’s go.”
Lilly stared at Grandmother a moment, then clenched her jaw and marched out the door. Annabelle shot Grandmother a curious look, but the older woman only smiled. Shaking the oddity off, Annabelle pulled the door closed behind her and waited until Grandmother had it locked.
Annabelle wished Peggy were here, but she had asked to have the morning to herself. Annabelle had been both surprised and glad at the request, and had offered Peggy a smile and embrace before sending her on her way.
After a short carriage ride, they arrived back at the place Annabelle had hoped never to see again. The old capitol building, which they had turned into the Old Capitol Prison, loomed in front of her as she took Gunter’s hand and stepped down from the carriage, and her heart began pounding so rapidly in her chest Annabelle feared it would gallop right out of her. She placed trembling fingers over it and tried to steady her breathing. She wouldn’t be going back in the cell. She wouldn’t have to listen to them again.
“Are you all right, dear? You are looking rather pale.” Grandmother’s face filled her vision, and concerned eyes narrowed into slats.
“I’m…fine.”
“Humph. I think not.” Grandmother gestured toward Gunter. “Gunter, would you stay here with Annabelle while Lilly and I go inside?”
“Grandmother, I don’t need….”
Grandmother waved her hand, and Annabelle snapped her mouth closed. When Eudora Smith got that look, there was no point in arguing with her. Besides, Annabelle couldn’t deny the relief she felt at the idea of not having to go inside. She could wait out here for George.
Without waiting for a reply, Grandmother lifted her chin and strode for the door with Lilly on her heels. Annabelle watched them go, praying that the papers would be enough.
George watched a rat gnaw on the wooden leg of his cot. Curious, he shifted his weight and let his head fall off the edge. The creature paused and turned a beady black eye on him, the tiny whiskers around its nose quivering. After a moment, it returned to its chewing. George shifted again, bringing his arm over the side. The rat scurried away a few steps, regarding him with that glassy eye. George held his breath. The thing was still close enough to reach, if he were quick enough.
George shot his hand out and the rat turned to flee. His fingers grazed the slick end of the tail before the rodent shot out of the bars of his cell and down the hall. George sighed and fell back on the cot, wishing he could dart out of here so easily.
How many days had he been here? He didn’t know. Unlike Elmira, he didn’t have a place to scratch in his days. Nothing here but stone. Stone walls, stone floor, and a bed that might as well be stone.
Groaning, George swung his feet over the side of the cot and let his bare toes touch the floor. Cold and smooth. George trailed a toe along the cracks between the stone, wondering if he could free the dirt caught in between.
After a few moments, nothing much came free, and George gave up on the game. He rose, stretched his arms over his head, and padded to the iron bars. He glanced down the hall and suppressed a shiver. The two boys across from him had left some hours ago. He couldn’t be sure if they were released or simply moved to another place, but any hopes for human connection had left with them.
George stared at the shadows gliding down the hall and wondered at the hour. He tried to think back. When was the last time someone had brought a tray?
A scuffling sound drew his attention, and George looked down the hall again. Something shifted in the shadows, and a form began to emerge. George tilted his head, watching it as it glided down the hall. Wide at the bottom, and narrow at the top, the shape resembled a bell. George tilted his head. How strange. The figure continued to glide his way. He narrowed his eyes and watched it, trying to separate the form from the gloom. Ah. Of course. A slow smile drifted onto his lips. She was returning to him again. George had almost thought she wouldn’t.
The dreams were becoming more real. Sometimes, the Yanks came to stab him in his bed. Other times, the drowning soldiers at Elmira drifted through his cell, clawing at him with their cold, shriveled fingers. But sometimes, she came.
Those were the good dreams. There were times when she would come and offer him a gentle smile and her presence would fill him with a measure of hope. It had been many nights since he’d seen her. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but that meant little.
George smiled as she neared the cell, escaping the shadows that threatened to swallow her. The dream angel came to a stop in front of him. So beautiful. Her ebony hair twisted away from her face, leaving only a single curl hanging down by her ear. Such a lovely curl. He reached through the bars to caress it.
She frowned and took a step back. “Mr. Daniels?”
George blinked. She’d never spoken to him before. Her voice drifted to him like a soft breeze, delicate and sweet.
The vision cocked her head and her almond-shaped eyes narrowed. “You all right?”
George blinked again. She seemed so real he could smell her. He drew a long breath. Yes. The scent of honeysuckle and cinnamon. His dreams had never included aromas before. He suddenly straightened. “Lilly?”
She glanced back down the hall and took a step away from him.
“No! Please!” George stuck his fingers through the bars, desperate not to lose her. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me!” Fear flooded his voice, and he hated himself for letting her see him so weak. But he couldn’t lose her. Not when she was so close!
Concern flittered over her smooth features and she stepped closer. “Mr. Daniels, you are scaring me.”
Something was wrong. “I…um…may I touch your hand?”
Lilly shied away. “Why?”
“I need to know.”
She crossed her hands over her chest and glanced down the hall again. “Know what?”
“If you are real.” The words came out in a whisper that grated down his throat.
She stared at him until he thought that at any moment she would vanish, so he stared right back, hoping to memorize every detail of her striped gown, pursed lips, and questioning eyes. Finally, she took a small step forward and lifted her fingers.
George snaked his fingers back through the bars, noticing that they were quivering.
Lilly must have noticed too, because she took another step forward and grabbed his hand. “It’s all right, Mr. Daniels.”
His knees buckled and he had to catch himself on the bars. She made a small sound and came closer until she was right up against the cell. Worry danced in her beautiful eyes, and it warmed the frozen places within him. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand and stared into her eyes. “You are really here?”
“I am.” She pulled her fingers from his grasp and cast another look down the hall. “Mrs. Smith will be here any moment.”
She was really here. In the prison. Alarm shot through him like a cannon blast. “Tell me they have not arrested you!”
Her nose wrinkled. “Why would they do that? We’ve come to get you out.”
“Out?”
“Are you sure you are well, Mr. Daniels?”
George stared at her. She was real. She had come to get him out, and…she was looking at him as though he had lost all his wits. His eyes flew wide and he pulled his face away from the bars. “I…oh, forgive me, Miss Rose. I am afraid returning to prison has done…unpleasant things to me.”
The concern returned to her face, and she came close again. She reached a hand out to him. George turned his face away. “I did not want you to see me like this.”
She dropped her hand and wrapped her arms around her tiny waist. Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall, and in a moment, Mrs. Smith appeared with the lawman George remembered meeting at a dinner prior to the assassination. How long ago had that been? Weeks? Months?
“Oh, Mr. Daniels. My, but you do look a fright.” Mrs. Smith clicked her tongue and shot a disapproving glance at the lawman. “And again I find you without shoes.”
George raked a hand through dirty hair that hung limp about his ears. He looked at Lilly again and ducked his head.
Metal scraped on metal and the door swung open. George stood there staring at it in disbelief. A trick. The Yanks were playing a trick on him.
“Come along, Mr. Daniels,” the man said, his gruff voice laced with annoyance.
George scrambled through the door and stepped into the hallway, his heart pounding. Run. He had to run now. Get away….
Something small slipped onto his arm. Alarmed, he looked down at it and saw that Lilly had grasped his arm. George clamped his jaw tight and bent his arm to escort her. A lady shouldn’t be in this place. Behind him, the lawman mumbled something about boots and went into the cell to fetch them.
George took a step forward, and seeing no one stop them, began walking. Faces peered at him through the bars, faces scorning him for leaving them behind again. But he couldn’t feel the press of guilt now. He must protect the lady at his side. See her freed from this place. He placed a hand over her cool fingers and gave them a pat of reassurance, but did not remove his eyes from the door at the end of the hall. To his astonishment, no one stopped him when he touched the knob or even when he pulled the door free.
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 68
