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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

“And tell Nathaniel that I’m thinking of him,” she said. “I’ll think of him every hour of every day, even though I’m not in the White House anymore. Walls and guards and circumstances can’t separate us. Tell him I’ll wait for him, no matter how long it takes.”

Now other operators in the room were cocking their heads to listen. Caroline continued peeling back the layers of her soul.

“Tell him that I finally understand what he was trying to say about the boring Vermeer in the Corcoran,” she said, and he lifted his head, all senses on alert. “The woman holding the letter isn’t boring, she is the personification of loyalty.” Her voice was rough with emotion. “She is missing her man and will wait faithfully for him, no matter how long it takes. Even though the picture is mostly darkened with gloom, Vermeer captured tenderness and love in the way she holds that letter. She will never give up on the man who wrote that letter, even in the bleak, dark world Vermeer painted for her. The light coming through the window is hope, and no matter how grim, I will always cling to that hope and use it to light my days. That portrait in the Corcoran may be the most beautiful painting on this earth. Tell Nathaniel that.”

“I hear you,” Sullivan said. “He does too.”

“Good.”

The line disconnected.

Nathaniel sat motionless as Caroline’s words sank in. They were an avalanche of love and acceptance despite the dark shadows of his world. Caroline knew all his failings and shame, but she was standing by him and had just announced it in front of a dozen White House employees.

And she was right. Walls and guards and circumstances wouldn’t separate them. For a while he had let his grief do so, but now it was Caroline who was hurting and needed someone to stand by her, and he would do so.

Thirty-Three

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Caroline’s heart was still thudding as she paid the pharmacy owner for use of his telephone. The pharmacist and probably every operator in the White House had just heard her declaration of undying love, but she didn’t care. Nathaniel had heard it, and that was the only thing that mattered. He needed to know he wasn’t alone and that she would wait for him no matter how long it took for him to emerge from this debilitating melancholy.

It was dark by the time she stepped off the streetcar in her Alexandria neighborhood. It had been eighteen months since she’d slept in her own bed. She was eager to get home, but guilt ate at her over the way things had ended with Ida and how she’d been forced to walk out on Nathaniel.