Nathaniel read the relevant line aloud. “‘Please remember, you can always trust a good dancer and the second in command.’” He set the paper down and looked her in the eye. “It sounds like he is telling you to trust your own judgment rather than your older brother’s. Do you have any reason to doubt Gray?”

The thought was appalling. “Gray has always been like a father to us. He’s also been a lifeline to Luke, so I don’t understand the reference to trusting the second in command, or who that could even be. Gray has been to Key West, but I never have. I have no idea what Luke can be saying about trouble flowing from Key West.”

Nathaniel turned the page over to where she’d written the translation of the Hebrew text. More than anything, she hoped Nathaniel could give her an alternate interpretation of the passages from Ecclesiastes other than Luke telling her he was about to die and not to mourn him.

Nathaniel sighed deeply. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“I don’t either.”

“‘A time to mourn and a time to dance,’” he read, “then he flat out tells you to dance. I think you must be the good dancer he speaks of in the first part.”

“Unless, of course . . .”

“Unless we’re reading too much into this, and it is the ramblings of a confused and delirious man.”

She’d rather believe Luke was somehow up to his old tricks, like finagling a way to send a basket of artichokes or a dozen cadets to cheer a lonely girl on her birthday. Instead she was left with the uncomfortable conclusion that he was indeed losing hold of his sanity.

Nathaniel continued studying the letter. “He writes, ‘You know what to do,’ but you don’t. The good news is that the army is allowing his letters to get through, so wait for more information. I know this is frustrating. Remember, this is a battle that might take months or years. When you have more details, you’ll be able to draw a better conclusion.”

Unless the army ordered a quick trial and execution. She closed her eyes and prayed. Dear Lord, what do you want me to do?

“Your brother quotes Ecclesiastes,” Nathaniel said. “It’s always been my favorite book in the Bible.”

She turned to him, question in her eyes, and he responded.

“In the dark time after Molly died I hated myself. I was strangled by grief and regret, but when I read Ecclesiastes, it brought comfort. We can’t control the seasons in our lives, only how we respond to them. God planted eternity in our hearts, a longing to find meaning in the world. I still haven’t found meaning in Molly’s death. I don’t know that I ever will. But Ecclesiastes teaches that such questioning is normal, and that brings me great comfort.”