Five minutes later, George was unlocking his desk. The budget was in a large box in his bottom drawer, a hundred loose-leaf papers that had yet to be bound. He handed it to her.

“I’ll need it back by eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” he said. “Don’t let it out of your hands.”

“I won’t.”

Anticipation hummed as she waited for George to leave, then carried the box to her desk. Nathaniel stood beside her as she lifted out the stack of typewritten pages. At least there was a table of contents. She traced her finger down the list of agencies. Agriculture, Army, Bureau of the Engraving, Consular Affairs, Court of Federal Appeals—none of these resonated with her. She didn’t even know what she was looking for, but she kept searching the mammoth document. The Census, District of Columbia transportation, Education, Farm Services—

Education?

The budget allotments for education began on page forty, and her fingers shook as she lifted the pages away.

“What are you looking for?” Nathaniel asked.

She dared not answer. It was too farfetched. She didn’t want to get her hopes up or look foolish. At last she found the proper page and saw rows of funds allocated for school construction, the printing of textbooks, for training teachers . . .

And for a school in Washington, DC, to train immigrant girls and women.

Her vision blurred. How could this be happening? Her breaths came in shallow spurts, and her heart surged. She clamped a hand over her chest as she blinked, struggling to see.

“Are you crying?” Nathaniel asked in amazement.

“Of course not.”

She used her cuff to blot her eyes so she could see again, but yes, on line twenty-four was funding for Petra’s school.

She sank into the desk chair. “Line twenty-four,” she choked out, and Nathaniel leaned over to read.

Soon the corners of his mouth twitched. “Happy birthday,” he said quietly.

She laughed, and he did too. What else was there to do? It was impossible to know how this had happened, but somehow Luke had managed the impossible.

She stood up and clasped Nathaniel’s hand as they gazed down at the document, amazement still cycling through her, and she was glad he was there to share this moment. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back as electricity flowed between them. If nothing else, line twenty-four was concrete proof that her brother was an amazing man.

The next morning she sought out George for insight the moment he walked into their office.

“How does money get allocated for educational budget requests?” she asked, still a novice where the inner workings of Congress were concerned.

“There’s a committee for education, headed by a fellow from Indiana. Check with him.”