He held up the magazine. “I’m sailing for Cuba to deliver this to Luke. The first article will send him over the moon. I don’t think he gives a flying fig about the other, which is mostly there to sell magazines. There’s no future between me and Annabelle.”

It hurt even to say the words, but the relief on Caroline’s face was palpable. Mr. Holder was waiting for him, but Gray pulled her into a hug and squeezed. It didn’t seem so long ago that he could pick her up and set her on his shoulders. Now she was a woman, and during this catastrophic situation with Luke, he had a new appreciation for Caroline’s strength and unswerving loyalty.

He must never do anything to endanger that.

September in Cuba wasn’t much cooler than it had been in July, but even those few degrees made a difference as Gray strode toward the prison where Luke was being held. Had it only been two months since he’d been here? It seemed like the entire world had been upended, yet Luke hadn’t moved more than a few inches within his six-by-ten-foot cell.

Gray carried the issue of Good Housekeeping rolled in his hand. In his satchel he had more newspapers and pamphlets that covered the adulterated applesauce, but it was Good Housekeeping that had proven to be the loudest megaphone. Its huge circulation and incriminating headline were proof that Luke’s audacious plan had worked.

At least this time Gray knew what to expect as he moved through the layer of guards and locked doors in the stifling prison. He paid extra to meet Luke in the prison yard. Anything to get Luke out of that matchbox of a cell for a few minutes. The prison yard was surrounded on all four sides by barracks, but it was open to the sky, and that would be a blessing for someone who rarely saw it.

Gray waited at a rustic wooden table. He’d been warned that Luke would be shackled as a condition of using the prison yard, and the sound of rattling chains was harrowing as the door opened and a guard led Luke into the yard.

Luke’s beard was new, and his black hair was long enough to tie back with a leather cord. Gray ignored the smell as he pulled his brother into a hug. With his wrists shackled, Luke couldn’t return it, but Gray still held on for a moment before stepping back.

“You look like a pirate,” he said.

“I’d rather drink my water than shave with it.”

“Probably wise.”

The beard disguised how gaunt Luke had become, but Gray had felt every one of his ribs during their brief hug. It hurt to see, but Luke still flashed a warm smile as he sat down on the bench.