“I think I’m going to sleep some more now,” Sandra said, but then she smiled a little.
She closed her eyes, and he looked at her gorgeous young face. The feelings were so strong that he couldn’t even name them, couldn’t identify them, much less understand them.
He blinked several times, still holding her hand. He held it for a long time, then gently folded it over her stomach as she slept. He went over to Andrew and helped him with a puzzle, then they moved out of the room.
They stepped into the hallway and almost ran into Amelia.
Andrew whooped and jumped up and down.
Amelia was in one of her banker power suits, all black and white and sharp edges. “Hi, honey,” she said to Andrew, then looked at her ex-husband. “How are you, Nick?”
“Not too bad.”
Amelia gestured toward the door. “Is she all right?”
“She will be,” Journey said.
“That’s good. She sounds like a nice woman, Nick.”
Journey nodded but said nothing.
“Can we walk a bit?”
They walked to a waiting area near the nurses’ station. Andrew whistled, and Journey thought of Meg Tolman, how she’d whistled with the boy in the living room of his house. He’d talked to Tolman a couple of hours ago, when she called to check on Sandra. RIO was going to cover all of Sandra’s medical expenses. That word, Tolman told him, came directly from the president of the United States.
“So you’re sticking with it?” Journey had asked her. “You’re not going to quit after all?”
“I think Mendoza might be a real statesman. No one uses that word anymore, but I think he might be one.”
“Did you see his speech?”
“I did, and he was good as his word. He kept us out of it.”
A pause, then Tolman said, “I’m not going to quit. How about you?”
“Probably not,” Journey had said. “I’ll stay if you will, as long as I don’t have to move to Washington.”
“That’s a deal, Professor.”
“Nick, are you listening to me?” Amelia said.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I said, how does Andrew seem to you? I mean, after all he’s been through.”
Journey hesitated. “A little edgy. A couple of instances of aggression. When he was in the middle of things, he was fine. Afterward, some challenges.”
“Challenges. Nick, he was almost killed twice.”
Journey stiffened.
“Look,” Amelia said, “I’m not going to try for full custody. I can’t do that, and we both know why. I just … can’t. But dammit, Nick, you’re the great dad and all that, but twice he’s been in serious danger, because of things you’re doing.”
“I couldn’t control—”
“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m sure you haven’t told me all of it, and you don’t have to. But maybe it’s time to think a little differently. You still feel like you have to do everything yourself, and that’s not good … for you, or for Andrew.”
“I had him stay with the Gardners,” Journey said. “They took good care of him for three days. Sharon Gardner was great with him.”
“I’m sure she was. But”—she pointed at the healing scratches on his arm—“you can’t deny what’s happening. His adolescence is going to be hard, damn hard. We have options to help. Maybe you could learn something that would help him, and maybe—”
“I went to the website,” Journey said.
“What?”
“Grace of Oklahoma. I checked out their website.”
“And?”
Journey faltered a bit, with so many things skating around in his mind: “Are you going to stick with it?” “I think I’m falling in love with you, Nick.” “That’s not good … for you, or for Andrew.…”
“It’s hard to think about,” he said.
“I know. I never said it was easy for me, either.”
Journey was quiet for a long time, looking out the window. He saw Andrew at the edge of his vision, thumping his fingers on the arm of the chair.
“You okay?” Amelia asked.
“Yeah,” Journey said, and stood up. “It’s near here, isn’t it? It’s not far.”
“About three or four miles.”
“We could go visit, while Andrew and I are here in the city. Just to see what it’s like.”
They started for the elevator. Andrew clung to his mother’s arm, always keeping her between his father and himself, stamping his feet and humming and whistling. But as they rode down in the elevator, every few seconds he turned and made eye contact with his father. It was fleeting, as it always was, but it seemed to Journey as if Andrew were asking him a question.
“I don’t know, son,” he said, “but we’ll see.”
Amelia looked at him strangely, then the elevator doors opened and they walked into the hospital lobby, through the doors, and out into the hot Oklahoma sun. Andrew was quiet the entire way.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Don’t go looking for the Silver Cross in West Texas, because you won’t find it. While Hall County and the surrounding locales are certainly real, the mine is not. Nor is there any factual evidence that Napoleon III’s agents discovered silver (or gold) in Texas or sent a letter proposing to assist the Confederacy via Rose Greenhow. Likewise, there is no evidence to support the existence of such an entity as The Associates. Once again, the town of Carpenter Center, Oklahoma, is fictional, but all other settings are real, though somewhat altered at times for storytelling purposes.
So much for the fiction.
Now the facts: Rose O’Neale Greenhow died in the time, place, and manner described in Silver Cross. The circumstances of her death are as accurate as I can make them at a remove of nearly 150 years. Much of the detail of her mission to England and France, along with her death, is taken from Ann Blackman’s magnificent biography Wild Rose.
Historical data on Napoleon III’s occupation of Mexico is readily available from many sources, but Shirley J. Black’s Napoleon III and Mexican Silver served as an excellent resource on Napoleon’s dire need for silver during the period of the American Civil War.
Other resources I consulted while writing this book include: Lifeline of the Confederacy by Stephen R. Wise, a fascinating examination of the Union naval blockade and the role of the blockade runners. Special thanks to Ray Flowers of the Fort Fisher Historic Site for suggesting this book. Another invaluable and intriguing bit of reading was Spies and Spymasters of the Civil War by Donald E. Markle.
Not all individuals with autism exhibit aggressive behaviors. However, it is a fact of life for many families who live with the disorder, especially during adolescence and young adulthood. At times the aggression may be directed at others, or it may take the form of self-injury. Either way, it is one component of a highly complex and confusing developmental condition. There is also a stereotype of the individual with profound autism as being unable to connect with others, forever lost within himself or herself. This is not an accurate picture, either, as many people with the disorder are quite affectionate and loving. The condition is still poorly understood, but progress is being made. Such organizations as The Autism Society (www.autism-society.org) are working daily for deeper understanding and support of families living with autism. The portrayal of Andrew Journey, and his multilayered relationship with his father, is based in part on my own experience as the parent of a son with profound autism.
The impetus for writing this book was twofold. While doing research on spies and espionage in the Civil War, I came across the story of Rose Greenhow. More specifically, the accounts of her death intrigued me. Why did she insist on a lifeboat to go ashore in rough seas, only three hundred yards from Fort Fisher? Why didn’t she wait out the night, as the Condor’s captain suggested? What could possibly have made this coolly self-assured woman so frightened that she felt she must leave the grounded ship? The answer died with her on the North Carolina coast—we will never know what she was thinking
that night, but the story haunted me, and it gave me the idea that became Silver Cross.
The other half of this book’s origin is more contemporary and personal. Around twenty years ago, I attended a graveside service for a great-uncle. The service was at a small cemetery in rural Oklahoma on a hot summer day, and when it was over, I took a walk among the grave markers. Under a tree in the newest section of the cemetery was a trio of markers: two men and a woman, all with the same surname, all having died on different dates within the past two years, aged in their late twenties or early thirties. What happened to this family? I wondered. Who were they? Why did they all die so young, and so close together?
To this day, I have no idea what happened to the three young people buried beside each other in that small-town cemetery. But the image stayed with me for all these years, until I discovered a way to explore it fictionally in this book, via the three Cable siblings.
ALSO BY B. KENT ANDERSON
Cold Glory
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
B. Kent Anderson is a journalist and broadcaster. A graduate of the University of Central Oklahoma, he has worked as a radio announcer and producer since the age of fifteen. He lives with his three sons in Oklahoma City. Visit him on the Web at www.bkentanderson.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
SILVER CROSS
Copyright © 2012 by B. Kent Anderson
All rights reserved.
Cover art by John Taylor Dismukes & Associates
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Anderson, B. Kent, 1963–
Silver cross / B. Kent Anderson.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
ISBN 978-0-7653-2862-5 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4299-4811-1 (e-book)
1. History teachers—Fiction. 2. Governmental investigations—Fiction. 3. Conspiracies—United States—Fiction. 4. Treasure troves—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3601.N455S55 2012
813'.6—dc23
2012019973
e-ISBN 9781429948111
First Edition: November 2012
Silver Cross Page 35
