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Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. Half Title Page
  3. Books by Elizabeth Camden
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. Twenty-Five
  31. Twenty-Six
  32. Twenty-Seven
  33. Twenty-Eight
  34. Twenty-Nine
  35. Thirty
  36. Thirty-One
  37. Thirty-Two
  38. Thirty-Three
  39. Thirty-Four
  40. Thirty-Five
  41. Thirty-Six
  42. Thirty-Seven
  43. Thirty-Eight
  44. Thirty-Nine
  45. Historical Note
  46. Questions for Discussion
  47. In 2021, look for Luke Delacroix’s story in
  48. About the Author
  49. Back Ads
  50. Back Cover

Her smile was sad but knowing. “Gray always wanted me and Luke to walk the straight and narrow. It wasn’t his fault when we didn’t. What happened to Molly wasn’t your fault either. God has created a huge, complex tapestry with our lives. It’s got shadows and darkness shot through with highlights of gold. We can never go back and undo those threads and weave them into something else. I wish we could.”

She laid her hand on his shoulder, and her compassion flowed into him like a balm. What he wouldn’t do to have a woman like this in his life. He laid his palm over her hand, gently squeezing.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he said.

“I am too.”

Disappointment from failing in Cuba was heavy in her voice. Her brother was a traitor and the first lady was a harridan, but she’d been working with those dark threads from the day he met her. She managed to live a luminous life of joy and hope despite the darkness dogging her heels, and there was much to admire in that.

He only feared her optimism might someday be crushed by the slow wheels of justice.

Twenty-One

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Nathaniel braced himself for the nationwide presidential tour. The three-month trip was going to be the longest time any president had been away from the White House, involving a journey from coast to coast, and from the Great Lakes all the way down to the port of New Orleans. As spring morphed into summer, the tour took shape as more stops were added to the itinerary and details were finalized.

All along the way, there would be parades, speeches, dinners with local officials, and a nonstop stream of well-wishers. Thousands of people were expected at each stop. Most cities on the route wanted to treat the president to a parade with an open-air carriage ride for the first couple to see the town at its best. Nathaniel made a trip to John Wilkie’s office in an attempt to veto all open carriage rides.

“The parades are an unacceptable security risk,” he said. “You should see the letters the president has been receiving lately.”

Wilkie propped his feet on his desk, slowly puffing on a cigar. “What kind of letters?”

“Mostly from crackpots,” Nathaniel admitted. “An astrologer claims the stars are aligned for the president to die on the next full moon, and a woman from Nebraska has foreseen the president’s death by falling off a grain elevator. Fortunately, there are no trips to grain elevators on the tour.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I can’t guarantee the president’s security,” Nathaniel said tightly. “Not with only four men.”

“There will be dozens of local police officers at each stop,” Wilkie said mildly.