With Every Breath (35 page)

“So I am to be a baby-sitter?” Kate asked.

Justice Bauman was a smart man, and he knew how to appeal to Kate’s sense of challenge. “No, no. I need much more than that. You know how Washington operates, Kate. Half the people in this city have eaten at your mother’s table, and you know what it takes to get things done. My office has never been very efficient. Government offices rarely are. If you have a quarter of your mother’s skill for organization, I would be very grateful.”

That clinched it. Kate began working at Justice Bauman’s office at the US Capitol, where the Supreme Court had been housed since 1810. There were plans to someday fund a grand new building for the Supreme Court, but for now it was tucked into a wing above the old senate chambers. Each day was a thrill as she walked toward the majestic building with the dome that could be seen for miles. Its gleaming white stone seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, the massive neoclassical lines an awesome sight of strength and stability.

The office where she worked was spacious, with four oversized desks for the clerks, Kate’s secretarial desk, and a table in the corner for Irene. With no marketable skills, Irene had been charged with typing addresses onto the envelopes of office correspondence. The typewriter was a new and baffling piece of equipment for all of them, and Irene struggled to peck out the correct letters. She usually ruined about four envelopes before successfully banging out a correct address. The male population
of the city was safe from the sight of Irene’s knees, although the girl took complete credit for Kate’s new position.

“Papa knew we would work well together, that’s why he hired you,” Irene said as she pulled another ruined envelope from beneath the rubber roller of the typewriter.

“No doubt,” Kate muttered. Minding Irene wasn’t as terrible as Kate feared. Now that the girl had something more meaningful to do, she spent less time obsessing over attracting a man to fill the void in her days.

The holidays passed, and afterward the city descended into its gray pattern of damp cold that blanketed everything and seeped into her bones. Every afternoon warmed just enough to begin melting the snow, only to have it freeze over into a layer of slick ice overnight.

As the months rolled by, Kate’s hands began developing calluses from the amount of paper she proofread, sorted, stamped, and filed. It was wickedly dull work, but it paid a respectable wage. What did it matter if there were no patients she could try to help cheer? Or a fascinating, challenging, and darkly brooding man who made her heart speed up as he crossed her line of sight?

Trevor had turned down his father’s offer to return to Scotland. She knew because the one time she worked up the courage to walk past the hospital, she saw construction workers on the roof and Trevor’s dark figure leaning over a set of plans, the architect beside him. Kate scurried away, darting around piles of snow and melting puddles of slush in her haste to avoid being seen. What if he’d looked down and seen her lollygagging in the street like a heartsick fool?

She thought of him every day, but especially on Mondays when she knew he swabbed his throat and smeared the results onto a glass slide that Henry checked for tuberculosis. On Monday mornings she always said an extra prayer for Trevor.

The last time he contracted tuberculosis, he went to a sanitarium in the Himalayas. Surely he would do the same if he contracted it again. Throughout the winter Kate suffered a constant fear of learning Trevor had disappeared from the hospital, for she knew what such an abrupt absence would mean. As winter loosened its grip on the city, bright green tips of grass nudged through the barren soil. Gray skies gave way to crystal blue, and the damp air dissolved into the fresh breezes of April. The walkways were clear again, making movement throughout the city easier, and Kate finally landed on the perfect solution to keep an eye on Trevor’s whereabouts.

Irene Bauman had a nose for gossip that rivaled any bloodhound, and she loved her new role in supplying Kate with information.

“I think this machine is faulty,” Irene said as she tugged an envelope from beneath the roller of the typewriting machine. “I’m sure I’ve been hitting the key for
S
, but sometimes it comes out with other letters. Maybe I should go to the stationer’s to buy more envelopes?”

Heat flooded Kate’s cheeks at the code word. Irene spoiled so many envelopes they needed to regularly replenish their stock. It just so happened the best stationery shop in the city was across the street from Washington Memorial Hospital, and Irene had proven herself to be an enthusiastic spy for Kate.

“If you wait a moment, I have another batch of letters to deliver.” Kate reached for the box beneath her desk, pulling out the pile of note cards she regularly penned to the patients in the clinic. Having seen the eagerness with which the patients greeted the daily mail, and the subtle disappointment on their faces when the mail clerk passed them by, Kate made sure each of them got a note from her at least once per week. Sometimes it was hard to think of things to write, so she passed along
Washington gossip or even amusing pictures she clipped from newspaper stories.

Nine more of the patients Kate once knew had died. Irene always got the names of the new patients, and Kate proceeded to pen notes to them as well. Even a cheerful note from a stranger was welcome to people who were trapped in a bed all day.

Delivering mail to the patients was a perfect excuse for Irene to go up to the fifth-floor clinic. All Kate needed to know was if Trevor was still at the hospital. If he was, that meant his lungs were clear and he was still a healthy man. If he disappeared on her . . .

She passed the stash of mail to Irene. “Say hello to Nurse Augusta for me.” After Nurse Ackerman had been fired, a cheerful woman named Augusta Jones had been hired as the new receiving nurse.

Once Irene had left, Roger Moreno approached her desk. The young lawyer looked about eighteen, although Kate knew he had to be at least twenty-five. She suspected his bushy mustache was an attempt to make himself look more mature.

“I’m hoping you can proofread this for me,” Mr. Moreno said. “My last brief had three spelling errors in it, and I can’t afford that kind of lapse again.”

Kate flashed a sympathetic smile and held out her hand for the papers. “And what is it this time?”

“Real estate taxation.”

Kate winced, but Mr. Moreno launched into the topic with enthusiasm. “I think you’ll find it fascinating. Did you know it’s legal to use variable accounting techniques for assessing the value of property? If this case is upheld, it will turn the whole world of municipal accounting on its head.”

Mr. Moreno continued to ramble on about taxation law while Kate thumbed through six pages of dense legal text. She looked up and tried to smile brightly.

“Heavens, don’t give away the ending,” she said. “I’ll read this and let you know if there’s anything that needs correcting.”

His smile could have lit the room. “Thanks, Mrs. Livingston. You’re the best!” Mr. Moreno returned to his desk, and Kate began reading the brief.

She had never been so unhappy in her life. She’d lost the man she loved, walked away from a wonderful job, the likes of which she was unlikely to ever find again, and now she had six pages of real estate taxation to proofread.

At least Tick’s future was set, having finally been accepted into the Naval Academy. The day after hearing the news, her parents hosted a huge celebration at the boardinghouse. For that one night they hired a cook and left the meal preparation to someone else, as a hundred people flooded their home for a party that shook the rafters. Tick’s letter of acceptance had been framed and displayed above the mantelpiece. He would leave for Annapolis next August, and Kate had never been so proud.

Except . . . why hadn’t he contacted her yet about getting fitted for his new uniforms? She wanted to accompany him to the tailor’s, so she could see him in his smart new midshipman’s uniform. If he got fitted without her . . . well, that would be okay, but she had better be sure it hadn’t slipped his mind.

Something about this didn’t sit right. Tick’s visits to the boardinghouse had been scarce lately, and paying a visit to ensure he was on track would be her first order of business after work today.

* * * *

The guard at the Marine Barracks told her that Tick had gone to the shooting range at the Navy Yard. She’d never been to the shooting range before, but given the steady blasts sounding every few moments, it was easy to let her ears be the guide. The
shooting range bordered the Anacostia River, and a handful of men were taking careful aim at targets placed on the opposite side of the field.

Standing at the base of the wharf, she shielded her eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun and waved. “Private Norton!”

Tick looked at her and grinned, motioning her closer.

“Very impressive,” she remarked at the smattering of bullet holes in the center of the concentric rings.

“I’ve been training hard,” he said. “What can I do for you, Kate?”

“Have you gotten fitted for your uniforms yet? It should be done before the end of the month.”

A steady wind blew in from the river, and Kate swatted a strand of blowing hair out of her eyes. Tick’s mouth twisted in apprehension. He shifted his weight and bit his lip, staring somewhere over her shoulder.

“I’m not going, Kate. I sent in my refusal of the appointment last week.”

Instantly she became dizzy. If the other soldiers weren’t standing only a few yards away, she would have let out a screech in protest. “So you’re going to be an enlisted soldier for the rest of your life? Anyone can be cannon fodder, and you’re worth more than that.”

Tick crouched down to open a box of bullets, feeding them into the revolver’s chamber and snapping it closed. He stood and fired off six quick rounds, the burst of noise echoing across the field and the scent of gunpowder heavy in the air. He hit the target each time. He lowered the gun and looked at her. “Not just anyone can do that! I’m not officer material, Kate . . . and I want something else.”

“What is it?”

He knelt down to reload again. His fingers were methodical
as he slid each bullet into the chamber with a click. Then he stood and looked her in the eyes. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Please, just say it, Tick.”

“I want to join the Secret Service. I’ve already been approached by folks at the Treasury who oversee the agency. I’m going to be transferred at the end of the month.”

She let out a huge breath, tilting her head toward the sky. “Flinging yourself in front of an assassin’s bullet? You can do better.”

“Doing what? Paper work? Performance reviews? That’s what officers do, and I’d rather clear dishes from Mother’s table than be stuck at a desk like that.” Tick had never been so angry with her, and it hurt deeply.

“You don’t understand what you’re passing up,” she said. “I want to protect you from a life of bowing and scraping along when you can be so much more.”

The anger faded from Tick’s face. He set the revolver down, then turned and pulled her into a hug. Her chin didn’t even reach his shoulder. When he pulled back, he placed a kiss on her forehead, and a hand on each shoulder, and forced her to look at him.

“Now, listen carefully because I’m only going to say this once, and I’ll go to my grave denying I ever said it at all, so pay attention.” He drew a breath and looked her straight in the eyes. “I know you raised me. You were more a mother and father to me than either of our parents, and I’m grateful for that. I know you want what’s best for me. But, Kate, I don’t want to go to college. That’s never going to change.”

She looked away. Hadn’t Trevor tried to tell her the same thing last November? She refused to believe it, but apparently it was true. Tick hadn’t stopped talking.

“When I was standing guard at the hospital, I felt like I had
a purpose. I was protecting you and the patients from someone trying to ruin Trevor. It was hard work. Some people might say any mindless fool could stand guard all day, but you have to pay attention every minute. Notice things. Never get tired and be on alert at all times. It’s hard work and I’m good at it, Kate. Protecting and serving people is what I’m meant to do. Not sit at a desk.”

It hurt too much to look at him, so she stared at a pair of mallards that had drifted in front of the wharf, bobbing on the choppy waves. Why couldn’t Tick take after their father and be happy fixing gutters and arguing with plumbers?

But that wasn’t what God intended for Tick. He and Trevor were both warriors. Trevor fought his battles in the laboratory, and Tick wanted to work on behalf of the government. Both required the heart and soul of a hero, and suddenly she’d never been so proud of her baby brother.

“Okay, Tick, I get it.”

The relief that crossed his face shamed her. Did her opinion really matter that much to him?

“I live in terror of telling Mom. She’s almost as bad as you when it comes to college.”

“If you can face down Maude Norton, you’ll be fine up against any assassin.”

The look he gave her was part amusement, part skepticism. “You sure about that? She can be pretty tough.”

“So can I. And I’ll be standing behind you if she gives you any trouble.”

Tick swallowed hard. Oh, good heavens, he wasn’t getting misty-eyed on her, was he?

She reached up to give him a hug. “Everything will be okay, Tick.” She loved this boy who was now a man. It was time to let him find his own way.

25

T
revor was used to worrying about his patients, but getting an ulcer from worrying over a dog was a new experience for him. After Kate left the hospital, he caved in and finally adopted the stray dog she used to feed on the hospital steps.

At first he wasn’t quite sure why he started letting Princess follow him home in the evenings. He didn’t want to admit it, but he liked the way she shook with excitement when she saw him coming down the steps at the end of the day, yelping and eager for a quick rub. It didn’t take long to become attached, even though Princess made a mess of his room above the train station. He purchased a grooming comb, but no matter how much he combed her, there were always fine strands of dog hair littering his room. She also had a habit of planting her huge paws on his chest to lick his face with her sloppy tongue. His laundry bill soared, and he had to pay for regular visits from a cleaning woman to mop up the dog hair, but it was worth it. The absolute loyalty and boundless affection that dog gave him was beyond price.