Home of the Brave (8 page)

Yank chuckled. “That’s only
because Henry Clay’s no longer Speaker of the House and can’t be
the kingmaker this time. But you can be certain that Clay and
President Adams have a plan to keep Jackson out of the White House,
even if he gets the most votes again.”

“Why do you always say
that?”

“Say what?”

“That Jackson got the most
votes in the 1824 election.”

“I say it because Jackson
got the most votes in 1824. Forty-one percent of the popular vote
and Adams got thirty percent.” He wrinkled his brow. “I forget the
electoral vote.”

“Ninety-nine to eighty-four,
which is completely irrelevant, since neither got the required a
hundred and thirty-one votes and the outcome became a decision of
the Congress.”

“Irrelevant?” he said too
loudly. “Anna, that’s the whole issue. Your hero, Henry Clay, who
got only thirteen percent of the votes, traded his influence as
Speaker of the House for his position as Secretary of State in the
Adams cabinet and got Adams elected President. That’s political
corruption at its worst.”

She glared at him for
several seconds, then got up and went into the house, slamming the
door behind her.

Yank took a cigar from his
coat pocket and a small knife from his vest pocket and then began
carefully clipping the cigar.

The front door opened and
Marina walked out. “Good morning, Darling.”

“I love you for the five
thousand and forty-fourth time,” he grumbled.

“What’s Anna so upset
about?”

He shrugged.

“Have you been fighting over
politics again?”

“No. I talk, she
fights.”

Marina sat down beside him.
“You really should try to get along with her. She’ll be going back
to Washington tomorrow and we won’t see her until
Christmas.”

“She’s not coming for
Harvest Home?”

“She said that she’d be too
busy with the election.”

“Busy doing what? North
Carolina votes on November 13
^th
and that’s the last
State.”

Marina shrugged. “I don’t
know. That’s what she said.”

He lit his cigar. “Why do I
think you know more than you’re telling me?”

“You’re suspicious by
nature,” Marina replied. “But you changed the subject. Why do you
argue with her? What would it hurt to just listen to what she says
without making any comment? That’s what I do.”

“I don’t like her being
involved in politics. It’s a dirty business controlled by liars and
cowards.”

“She’s trying to find
herself, John.”

“I hope she looks beyond the
gutter of politics.”

Marina pointed out across
the Kill toward the brilliant display of red, yellow and gold on
the Staten Island shore. “It looks like the trees have recovered
from the Gale.”

“Yes. It’s taken seven years
but you can’t see the damage anymore.”

“Has it been that
long?”

He nodded. “It was 1815,
September, right after the war.”

“So it was. Seven years.
Huh. Time does surely fly.”

“I noticed that they’re
building on Long Beach.”

“Long beach? Where’s
that?”

“It’s that piece that was
isolated when the tidal surge broke through the barrier beach at
The Rockaways. They call it Long Beach now.”

“I surely wouldn’t build
there. With a big storm it could become short beach or rejoin the
Rockaway beach again.”

“People seem to have short
memories,” Yank said.

“Whoever built this house
either had some past bad experience or a great deal of foresight.
It’s withstood some mighty gales.”

“I think they just built up
here for the view. The last time a gale that big hit New England
was nearly two hundred years ago and this house is only a little
over a hundred years old.”

“Anna and I were going to go
in to Newark later. Why don’t you come with us?”

“To watch you
shop?”

“To spend some time with
your daughter.”

“Shopping is not the kind of
time that might help and she refuses to talk.”

“So what will you do today?
Sit out here like a bump on a log, smoking your cigars and
rocking?”

“Isn’t that what retired men
are supposed to do?”

November 15,
1828

Washington, District of
Columbia

Senator James Carver rolled
over in bed and squinted at Anna Van Buskirk, who was standing at
the hotel room window, looking out at the city. “What time is
it?”

She turned to look at him.
“About eight-fifteen. I heard the bells a few minutes
ago.”

“Come back to
bed.”

She shook her
head.

“Is something bothering
you?”

“The election’s
over.”

“I know.”

“You said that you’d ask
your wife for a divorce after the election. The election’s
over.”

“I meant after the Electoral
College met.”

She began dressing. “This is
the last time until you’ve told her.”

“Oh, come now, Anna. Don’t
be petulant.”

She looked at him for a
moment. “Meeting you like this makes me feel dirty, Jim. Either we
get married or we end this. There’s no third choice.”

December 3, 1828

Washington, District of
Columbia

Anna hurried into the hotel
lobby, took off her hat, slapped it against the fireplace screen
then stepped back in alarm when the displaced snow hissed and
crackled on the hearthstones.

Yank was sitting in wide,
high-backed wingchair facing the fireplace. “I suppose you’ll never
learn to anticipate the reaction to your actions.”

She turned sharply toward
the sound of his voice. “Oh, Father,” she gasped. “I didn’t see you
in that big chair. What on Earth are you doing here?”

“I always stay here when I’m
in Washington.”

She looked around. “You do?
Why?”

He shrugged. “We own
it.”

“This hotel?” she asked in
surprise. “Since when?”

“Since the end of the war.
Don’t you remember? We lived here for over two years.”

“Was I here?”

“Yes. From the time you were
about ten until you were twelve or thirteen. Don’t you
remember?”

She shook her head. “No. I
don’t remember ever living in a hotel.”

“It wasn’t a hotel then.
John Tayloe built this house and the five houses next door right
after the war, speculating on a boom. The White House was being
rebuilt so President Madison was living in Tayloe’s Octagon House
and using it as the Executive Mansion. Your mother and I bought
this house from John before it was even finished to express our
gratitude for his generosity. We rented it as a hotel after I was
transferred back to the Northwest.”

“John Tayloe could afford to
be generous,” she said.

“Why are you holding your
wet coat and hat?” He pointed to a rack that stood near the
fireplace.

She hesitated then hung them
up.

“The family wants to buy it
back,” Yank said.

“What family wants to buy
what?”

“The Tayloe family wants to
buy this house.”

“Have they made you a
reasonable offer?” She looked quickly around the lobby then sat
down in the wingchair across from him.

“Yes. A very good
offer.”

“Then why don’t you sell
it?”

He chuckled. “False
sentimentality. I thought it might be important to my family to
keep it. But if you don’t even remember living here…”

“I remember now. It looked
very different then. So did the neighborhood. Everything has
changed.”

“Yes, I suppose it has.” He
waited for her to reply, then after quite a long silence, leaned
forward. “Did you come to see me or do you have other business
here, Anna?”

“No, I didn’t come to see
you.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even know you were in
Washington.”

“I told you, but it must
have slipped your mind.”

She glanced at the clock in
the corner, squirmed uncomfortably and then looked around the room
again nervously.

“What?” Yank asked, trying
to read her facial expression. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just surprised to see
you here; that’s all.”

He was puzzled by her
demeanor. “Am I disrupting your plans by being here?”

“No. I’m meeting - some
people,” she said after a long moment. “Umm. To discuss the results
of the Electoral College.”

“Oh? When’s that supposed to
be official?”

“It’s official,” Anna said
unhappily. “Andrew Jackson is the president-elect and John Calhoun
will be his vice-president.”

“What was the electoral
count?” Yank asked.

“A hundred and seventy-eight
for Jackson and a hundred and seventy-one for Calhoun.” She cocked
her head to the side. “That’s why you’re here in Washington, isn’t
it? To meet Jackson.”

“No. As far as I know,
President-elect Jackson is still at the Hermitage in Tennessee. I’m
here to meet your brother. He’s been promoted to major and being
transferred to Buffalo.”

“Jack is?”

“Yes. Who else?”

“I have four brothers in
uniform.”

“But only one of them is a
captain who might be promoted to major.”

“When are meeting him?” she
said, ignoring his comment.

“In the morning. If you’re
not busy, I’m sure he’d be happy to…”

“I am,” she interrupted.
“Busy, that is.”

“Are you and Jack still at
odds?”

“No. I just have a previous
engagement.”

They looked up as a woman
with snow white hair suddenly appeared. “There you are, John,” the
woman said. “I’ve looked everywhere for you. You were completely
hidden from sight by that enormous chair.”

“Oh, sorry.” Yank stood up.
“Mrs. Annabelle Priest, may I introduce my daughter, Anna Van
Buskirk.”

“How do you do,” Annabelle
said, smiling broadly.

Anna raised her left eyebrow
and did not return the smile. “Charmed.”

Yank chuckled. “You must
have forgotten, Anna. It was Annabelle and her brother James
Winslow who saved my life after I was left for dead at Fort
Detroit. I’m sure you’ve heard their names before, many
times.”

“Why is that a laughing
matter?” Anna asked.

“I was laughing in
embarrassment at the way you raised your eyebrow,” Yank answered
crossly. “Your great-grandmother did the same thing to show her
disapproval.”

“So do you,” Annabelle said.
“It must be a family trait.” Her smile now was strained.

Anna stood up. “Well. It
seems that the snow has cancelled my conference, so I shan’t
intrude on your tryst. It was a pleasure meeting you Mrs.
Priest.”

“Now hold on,” Yank
complained.

“Your father and I are not
lovers,” Annabelle said to Anna in a sharp tone, “We’re old
friends.”

“I’m sure.” Anna put on her
hat. “I may not be home for Christmas, Father.”

“Fine,” he replied
angrily.

Anna took her coat and hat
off the rack and walked toward the door, putting them on as she
went.

Yank watched her to the door
then turned to Annabelle. “I’m so very sorry.”

“Don’t be. She didn’t bother
me in the least. I expect, however, that you will have a lot of
explaining to do when you get home.”

He shook his head. “If Anna
talks to Marina, Marina will set her straight.”

“Marina may not understand
us staying here in the suite at the same time.”

“I told her that you’d be
here.”

“Did you tell her that I
would be alone? That James didn’t accompany me this
time?”

“I think I did. But if I
didn’t, there’s really nothing to worry about. That’s a long dead
horse. In fact, I don’t think Marina would care if we were lovers.
She doesn’t seem to care about anything I do, anymore.”

“It looks like it’s snowing
very hard out there,” Annabelle said, looking out at the street.
“Should we have dinner here instead of going out?”

“The food here is
practically inedible. Let’s get our coats and hats and brave Jack
Frost.”

Annabelle started to turn
toward the stairs then stopped abruptly.

“Is something
wrong?”

“Your daughter just kissed a
man very passionately on the lips.” She surreptitiously pointed out
the door.

Yank turned to see Anna take
a man’s arm and put her head on his shoulder as they walked away in
the falling snow. “Did you see who it was?”