Home of the Brave (9 page)

“Yes,” Annabelle
hesitated.

“Who?”

“It was James Carver,” she
said, after another moment.

“Senator Carver?”

“Yes.”

“It couldn’t have been. He’s
almost my age, married and has a house full of children nearly
Anna’s age.”

“I saw him clearly.
Apparently he was waiting out there for her.”

“I wonder if he was
the
people
she
was supposed to meet here.”

“Does he know you on
sight?”

“Yes. I’ve met him several
times.”

“He must have come in and
seen you with her and then gone back out.”

“Oh,” Yank groaned. “How am
I going to break this to Marina?”

“Don’t. She doesn’t have to
know everything.”

“I suppose I should
challenge him to a duel.”

“Yes you should absolutely
do that - if you want to make Anna’s indiscretions known to the
entire world.”

“You’re right, of course. As
you always are.”

“Come along. I’m
hungry.”

December 25,
1828

Van Buskirk Point, New
Jersey

Yank thanked the express
rider, closed the front door and tore open the envelope to read the
message.

Marina tried to read over
Yank’s shoulder. “What is it? Is it Jack? Are the children all
right?”

“It’s from Andrew Jackson,”
Yank said. “Rachel has died.”

“Oh no.” Marina put her
fingers to her lips.

“What’s wrong,” Tom asked,
limping into the entry hall.

“Mrs. Jackson died,” Marina
replied.

“Who died?” Nannette came
from the kitchen.

“Rachel Jackson,” Tom
said.

“Who?” Nannette gave him an
uncomprehending look.

“Rachel Jackson,” Tom
repeated. “President-elect Andrew Jackson’s wife.”

“Oh what awful timing,” she
replied. “Practically on the eve of his inauguration. Are you going
to the funeral, Yank?”

“No,” Yank said. “She was
buried yesterday.”

“She died in Tennessee and
was buried there,” Marina explained before Nannette could ask
another question.

“What will Andy do now for a
First Lady?” Nannette wondered aloud.

“Oh, Nan,” Tom
complained.

“What?” she asked. “It’s a
perfectly logical question.”

“Rachel hadn’t planned to be
First Lady,” Marina said. “She had already asked her niece, Emily
Donelson, to do that.”

“Now that’s odd,” Nannette
pronounced.

“The Anti-Jackson Democrats
attacked Rachel cruelly throughout the campaign.” Marina shook her
head.

“Not cruelly enough,” Anna
announced from the parlor door, “or President Adams would have been
re-elected and we wouldn’t have to endure that murdering jackass
for four years.”

“Eggnog?” Nannette
asked.

“Nothing that was said
during the campaign was untrue,” Anna continued, undaunted by
Nannette’s attempt to derail her. “The woman was a convicted
bigamist and adulteress; little better than a harlot.”

“That’s a lie,” Marina
replied angrily.

“Rachel Jackson was a
decent, Christian woman,” Yank added as vehemently as Marina but
less passionately.

“Listen to your mother and
father, Anna,” Tom advised. “They knew her very well.”

“Why should I care about the
opinions of a whore and an adulterer,” Anna said loudly.

Yank went pale and looked at
Marina, anticipating an eruption of rage.

“Get out of my sight before
I do something I’ll regret, Anna,” Marina said in a strangled
voice.

“I’ll not only get out of
your sight, I’ll get out of this creaky old house too. And I’m
never coming back.” Anna started for the stairs.

“Good riddance,” Marina
screamed at her.

Anna stopped. “Does it
strike you as odd, mother, that you have five children and I am the
only one who came home for Christmas? Everyone has abandoned you,
even your husband.” She ran up the stairs and a few seconds later a
door slammed.

“I’ll go talk to her,”
Nannette said, starting for the stairs.

Marina was seething. “Go
ahead if you want to, but I’ve had enough of her and would be very
glad to see her go.”

Nannette stopped and
waited.

“This is your home, Nan,”
Marina continued, in an almost normal tone, “and if you want Anna
to stay that’s your business. But if she stays, I’m
leaving.”

“This is the Van Buskirk
home, Marina,” Tom replied quickly. “It’s as much yours as ours.”
He looked at Yank for help but getting none, he turned to face
Marina again. “You know that I try not to interfere but if you let
Anna go now you’ll live to regret it.”

Marina pointed up the
stairs. “Do you know why she called John an adulterer? She saw him
in Washington with Annabelle Priest and assumed the
worst.”

Nannette shook her head.
“Annabelle Priest?”

“The sister of the doctor
that took care of Yank after Detroit,” Tom grumbled. “Jesus. I
don’t know how such a smart woman can be so easily confused by
names.”

“It takes me a minute to
connect,” Nannette groused. “And I’ve never met Rachel Jackson or
Annabelle Priest. They’re just names with no faces.”

“Well,” Tom replied. “Anna’s
heard the woman’s name enough to realize what close friends she and
Yank have been over all these years.”

Anna was coming down the
stairs with a small suitcase in her hand and her coat across her
arm. “None of you have seen them together,” she said. “I have. They
looked like a couple.” She glared at Marina. “More than you and
Father ever did.”

“I’ll get my coat and
arrange for your transportation, Anna,” Yank said.

“I don’t need your
help.”

“I’ll go,” Tom
said.

“Nor yours,” Anna fired
back.

“Let her go,” Marina
insisted. “Otherwise I’m going to snatch her hair out.”

Anna stormed out the door
and slammed it so hard that a picture fell off the wall.

“Damn,” Yank
muttered.

“We need to sell that
place,” Marina said. “Or at the very least you and Annabelle have
to stop staying there together before you start a real
scandal.”

“Sell it,” Yank said with an
annoyed wave of his hand. “Annabelle, James and I can find another
place to see each other.” He turned to look into Marina’s eyes.
“You don’t think…”

“I don’t care,” she said in
a scoffing tone. “But if you’re going to have a seat in Andy
Jackson’s cabinet it would be prudent to avoid any breath of
scandal.”

Yank started to answer but
saw Thomas who was shaking his head in warning and nodded
instead.

December 31,
1828

Washington, District of
Columbia

“Happy New Year!” Anna Van
Buskirk squealed and threw her glass to shatter on the
floor.

Senator James Carver walked
through the crowded ballroom, shaking hands and kissing cheeks.
When he reached the standup bar, he elbowed his way in beside Anna,
who was the only woman in a circle of many interested men. “You’re
making a fool of yourself, Anna.”

“What do you care?” she
slurred.

“Dear God. Are you
drunk?”

“I certainly hope so. I
drunk enough drinks to have earned being drunk,” she giggled.
“These fine gentlemen haven’t let me pay for nary a one neither.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Is that good English? Isn’t it a rule that
one must never use nary and neither in the same sentence?” She
giggled loudly. “Oh dear me. I just did it again.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Carver
took her arm and started to guide her away from the bar.

“Unhand me, sir,” Anna said
loudly, pulling free, and stumbling back. She raised her arm over
her head and tossed her head back dramatically. “I have just begun
to drink. Or is it drunk?”

Carver looked around
nervously. “Please, Anna. You’re attracting a lot of attention. My
wife and I are here with a large party of my senatorial colleagues
and their wives.”

“What’s that to
me?”

“Why are you doing
this?”

“Why? Lemme think. I know I
had a very good reason when I started. Oh yes. I remember now. I
was told that excessive use of alcoholic beverages could cause a
miscarriage.”

“What?” He gave her a
wide-eyed stare.

She hiccupped. “I said that
I’m drinking because I don’t wanna have your bastard baby,” she
said loudly.

“Hush.”

“Make up yer mind. Talk,
don’t talk.” She looked beyond him at the men along the bar. “Who’s
gonna buy me another drink?”

Carver took her by the arm
but she twisted free again.

“Look at what you’ve done,
Senator,” Anna slurred angrily. “Only a minute ago, all these fine
gentlemen wanted to buy me drinks. Now nobody will buy me a damned
drink. It isn’t fair.” She slapped at his hand as he tried once
more to take her arm. “You know what else isn’t fair? It isn’t fair
that when you get tired of me you just go on your merry way but I’m
left with a creature growing inside me.” She looked down at her
stomach. “Inside me. It’s disgusting. And it isn’t
fair.”

Carver turned toward two
District of Columbia policemen who had finally arrived. “Get her
out of here.”

“Yes, sir. Come along,
Miss.”

“No,” Anna replied. “If you
want me out you’ll have to drag me out, kicking and screaming all
the way.”

“Excuse me.” A man stepped
between the police and Anna. “I am Doctor James Winslow, a friend
of the young lady’s family.”

“I never saw this man before
in my whole life,” Anna contradicted loudly.

Annabelle Priest caught
Anna’s hand. “Doctor Winslow is my brother. Please let us take you
home.”

“No.” Anna shook her head
emphatically and pulled her hand back. “Not until the new
year.”

“Very well,” Annabelle
replied. “Perhaps you would agree to join my brother and me at our
table until then.”

Anna looked at Winslow.
“Does your brother know that you’re in love with my
father?”

“Yes, of course he does.”
Annabelle began leading Anna away from the bar. “Everyone knows
that.”

January 1, 1829

Washington, District of
Columbia

“It’s nearly noon. Time to
wake up.”

Anna awoke then moaned as a
stabbing pain throbbed through her head and cramps attacked her
abdomen.

“Don’t sit up too fast or
you may get sick again.”

Anna blinked and tried to
focus on the white-haired woman who sitting beside her on the bed.
“Where am I?”

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re
in what was your bedroom when you were around twelve or
thirteen.”

“Oh. I remember you now,”
Anna said. “You’re my father’s lover.”

“No,” Annabelle shook her
head. “I’ve told you before that I’m not your father’s
lover.”

“You admitted it last night.
I wasn’t so drunk that I’d forget a thing like that.”

“Last night I admitted that
I love your father.” Annabelle stood up and walked to the dormer
and sat down facing Anna. “I didn’t say that he and I were lovers.
There’s an important distinction between loving someone and being
their lover.”

Anna sat up then looked down
at herself and pulled up the blanket to cover her breasts. “I’m
naked.”

“You vomited all over your
clothes. I managed to get you undressed but you refused to let me
put a nightgown on you.”

“Where are my
clothes?”

“The maid took them to the
laundry. Today is a holiday so you may not get them back until
tomorrow afternoon.”

“Am I to remain naked until
then?”

“Please feel free to help
yourself to any of my clothes.” She waved her hand toward a dresser
and wardrobe.

Anna examined the room more
closely and realized that it was decorated more like a lady’s
private bedroom than a hotel room. “Do you live here?”

“No. My brother and I live
in Detroit, but he comes here often on business and your father has
been kind enough to make the attic here available for us when we’re
in Washington.”

“That’s convenient,” Anna
said sarcastically.

“Yes it has been, although
your father tells me that the place has been leased and we won’t be
staying here again.”

“Where does my father sleep
when he’s here?”

“There are three bedrooms up
here, as you may recall. Your father has one, my brother has
another and I have this one.”

“I remember there being five
bedrooms. This was the children’s floor.”