Beyond All Dreams (32 page)

“You trampled on me,” she said, her voice vibrating with the memory of his betrayal. “You stole my father's letters. Do you know what that felt like? My last link to my father has been severed and is gone for good.”

“Your link to your father will never be severed,” Luke said. “That man's memory will burn like a beacon for as long as you live.”

“How could you do that to me? I was falling in love with you.”

He winced. “Anna, I wanted you more than my next breath of air, but I had a duty to my country. To the thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of soldiers who could be ordered to fight a senseless war. Every nerve in my body wanted to tell you the truth, but I couldn't.”

“So you lied.”

He looked like a weary and beaten man as he looked at her. “Yes, I lied. I wish I'd found a better way to handle the situation, but I'd do it again if it means keeping us out of a pointless war. Half a million men died in the Civil War, and the technology of warfare has exploded since then. We are trying to fend off a bloodbath.”

Her head ached and her stomach felt sick, but perhaps he was right. She drew a ragged breath. “I want my father's letters back. I know I can't tell anybody what happened, but I want those letters back.”

Luke nodded. “I can deliver them to you tomorrow.”

At least he was willing to grant her that much. Her heart had been trampled, and she wished she'd never seen the snarling, ironhard man Luke Callahan could turn into. She felt small and cold as she leaned against the wall, clutching her arms across her chest.

“Are you sorry at all?” she asked. “For what you've done? For what you've done to
us
?”

He looked as drained as she felt. “There are regrets I will carry until my dying day. This is one of them.”

The door clicked quietly when he left the room.

F
EBRUARY
15, 1898

Anna trudged into the library the next morning. For the first time since becoming a librarian, she hated stepping inside the map room. Across one wall of the room stretched a huge full-color map of the world, but all she could see were Spain and Cuba. And the expanse of deep blue ocean where her father's body had been buried at sea, along with all the other executed sailors of the
Culpeper
. She had always loved looking at maps of the ocean. Now she hated it.

She forced herself to begin cataloging a map of coal deposits in the Appalachian Mountains. She ascribed the proper terms and created unique catalog cards so that each map could be easily found in the future.

Her entire life had been dedicated to organizing information, preserving it, and helping people discover whatever piece of knowledge they wished to find. She loved the challenge of trying to guess how people would look for information in the future and never tired of creating access points to help lead them to the proper map.

Secrets didn't sit well with her. Now she knew a secret she longed to blurt out to the world, but she was struck mute. Just like in the old days, no matter how badly she wanted to speak, she was going to be forever silenced.

“Such a long face.”

Anna glanced up to see Luke standing in the open doorway, the bundle of her father's letters in his hand. He set them on the worktable in front of her.

“I'm sorry the man who searched your room made such a mess,” he said. “He intended to restore the room to order, but the women began returning home, so he grabbed the letters and fled.”

The invasion of her private room still rankled her, but at least now she understood why it had happened. And why her father had written her that cryptic letter. He knew about the covert activities of the
Culpeper
and wanted to document their presence at the island. She was glad she'd been able to piece together his final message, even though she'd never be able to carry out his wishes and document it for posterity.

“I'm moving back home tonight,” she said. “The hotel is a little isolated, even for a hermit like me.”

Luke touched the side of her cheek. “I hate to see you looking so sad.”

She leaned into his hand. Luke was the only other person who would ever understand the terrible secret she carried. Just for a moment she savored the comfort as she turned her face into his hand, but then she stepped back, retreating behind her desk, where she found space for the letters in a desk drawer.

She remained in her chair, facing away from him and uncertain what to say.

“Anna . . . am I forgiven?”

She blanched, not knowing how to answer. She could forgive him for lying to her. She didn't agree with his actions, but they weren't rooted in an evil or selfish motive. She loved him, she forgave him, yet she didn't know if she'd ever be able to forget what she had learned about him in the past few days.

“We may not be right for each other after all,” she said softly,
and the regret that clouded his face made her want to weep. She wanted to assure him all would be well, but the memory of him towering above her, shouting at the top of his lungs while she cringed, was going to be difficult to overcome.

“I need to feel safe,” she said. “That means more than a roof over my head or money in the bank. It means trusting that the man I choose to spend my life with won't explode in rage when I upset him. You're stronger than I am. You have a temper I don't trust. I forgave my uncle for what he did to me, but I won't ever place myself in a situation where I'm helpless. Never again.”

“Anna, I would never hurt you.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You threw your nephew's paintbrushes in the fireplace and watched them burn. You kicked a wall in front of me when you were angry in that cloakroom. I never thought you would stand above me and shout until the cords in your neck stood out—”

“Anna, don't,” he begged. “Don't end it this way.”

She didn't want to. More than anything, she wanted to rush into his arms and tell him all was forgiven and let him comfort her with tender words. It would be so easy, but it would be the wrong thing to do.

“Your explosive anger is more than I can handle, Luke. You need to convince me that you've tamed that dragon living inside you.”

For the first time since he'd entered the map room, a gleam of hope lit his eyes. “I'll find a way,” he vowed. “If we have to be old and gray before we walk down the aisle, I will find a way to earn your trust again.”

A commotion stirred in the lobby downstairs, and a man began shouting in a commanding voice, “All members of Congress need to report to the Capitol immediately!”

“What in the world?” Anna said.

Libraries weren't the kinds of places where people bellowed at the top of their lungs. She darted outside, Luke close on her heels. Dozens of people filtered out of the offices and research rooms, looking equally confused. From her position on the balcony, Anna had a bird's-eye view as a single Capitol policeman stood in the middle of the great hall, shouting his commands again.

“All members of the House and Senate! You need to report to the Capitol immediately.” The policeman turned and left the building.

“I'm leaving,” Luke said.

“What's going on?”

“I have no idea, but it doesn't look good.” He headed toward the staircase, then swiveled and returned to her, grabbing her roughly around the shoulders and pressing a kiss to her lips. Then he was gone.

The map room had the best view of the Capitol of any room in the Library of Congress. Dozens of librarians crammed into the room, squeezing around the single window to watch the commotion across the street. Carriages came racing down the street, careering to a halt before the Capitol and unloading frazzled-looking men, who quickly vaulted up the stairs.

Mr. Spofford stood to the side of the window, apprehension darkening his eyes. “I haven't seen this kind of uproar since the Civil War.”

His concern was contagious. Anna couldn't imagine what sort of emergency had caused the members of the House and Senate to be summoned so abruptly. Things usually moved at a glacial pace in Washington, so this sort of panic was indeed disturbing.

“Look, there's the president's carriage,” Gertrude said.

Sure enough, the black landau, with armed members of the Secret Service posted on the running boards, pulled up to the front of the Capitol. President McKinley stepped from the carriage and strode inside, not bothering to greet any of the hundreds of people milling on the steps to watch the hubbub.

“I'm going over to see what's happening,” Mr. Spofford said, fastening the buttons on his vest. Before he could leave, a congressional page came bounding into the room, breathless and flushed.

“The Spanish have blown up an American battleship in the port of Havana,” the boy said. “Hundreds of sailors have been killed.”

Anna blinked. Luke had mentioned that a battleship had been sent to Cuba. Was this the one the Spanish sank? A stunned silence settled over the room.

Mr. Spofford was the first to break the silence. He looked pale and shaky as he sank into a chair. “This means war.”

Urgent requests from Congress soon flooded the library, and the librarians dispersed to their proper offices. Anna was ordered to pull all their maps of Cuba and every port in the Caribbean. Other librarians began compiling information on the USS
Maine
, the battleship that had been blown to smithereens a few hours earlier. Demands were made for the current location of all US naval ships, army units, and the state of readiness for fully deployable units. More ominously, they wanted estimates of all Spanish naval and land-based forces in the hemisphere.

After the initial flurry of requests, there was little for Anna to do, but she dared not leave the library. A glance out the window revealed a steady stream of people coming and going from the
Capitol. She kept studying their faces, looking for Luke. She never saw him. He was on the new Foreign Affairs Committee, reporting directly to the president, so surely they would be at the forefront of the decision making. The responsibility must be overwhelming. She clenched her hands together, twisting so hard it made the bones ache.

“I thought you could use some company.” She turned to see Neville at the door, holding aloft a brown paper bag. “And perhaps a little dinner.”

“Bless you! I'm starving, but I couldn't leave in case more requests came in. You've heard what happened?”

“It's all people are talking about,” Neville said. “Some reports say all the sailors are dead; others say no casualties at all. The real question is whether the Spanish hit the ship with a torpedo or if it was an accident in the boiler room.”

“What do you think?” She began unwrapping the sandwich he handed her.

“I have no idea. Reports say the ship sank in less than an hour. That sounds like a torpedo to me, but I'm no expert.”

It felt good to have something to eat. She bit into the sandwich, a tasty pile of seasoned roast beef with horseradish sauce. It was much better than the typical fare sold in the local vendors' carts. She eyed it with suspicion. “Did Mrs. Norquist make this sandwich?”