"Thank you, Edwin." Lee felt awkward, and yet he felt Edwin Carraway deserved an explanation. "I felt it was time to settle down—again."
Edwin stood up and walked around his desk to stand beside Lee's chair. "I have a meeting with the Secretary of Treasury in—-" He took out his pocket watch, snapped open the lid, and checked the time. "About fifteen minutes. I hate to cut this short, my boy, but you know where to find me if you need to ask me more questions. It's good to see you again, Lee. I've missed you. Promise me you won't wait another twelve years before coming to see me again."
Lee didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on the twin photographs in the cover of Edwin's watch. Jeannie Carraway and her mother, Joan. Jeannie Carraway, the girl he had promised to love, honor, and protect. Edwin's only child, his only daughter. But Lee had failed in his duty. He had loved her and honored her, even honored her memory, but he had failed to protect Jeannie—failed to protect her from herself, and that headstrong willfulness of youth.
Edwin quietly snapped the lid of his watch closed, then placed his hand on Lee's shoulder. "It wasn't your fault, Lee. And God knows, you've never done anything to disappoint me. I'm as proud of you now, of the man you've become, as I was the day Jeannie married you."
"If I hadn't left her at the house with Patrick… he was supposed to look out for her. But I should have known he wouldn't stand firm around her. She could always twist him around her fingers. If I had insisted she go stay with you, then maybe…" Lee closed his eyes. It had been twelve years since he had last seen Jeannie Carraway. Twelve years since he'd dared to look at a picture of her because he had been haunted by his memories of her. But now, when he closed his eyes, all he saw was Mary. Mary pulling a gun on him the first time he met her. Mary dancing with him at David and Tessa's wedding. Mary standing at the altar in a white dress, solemnly repeating her wedding vows. Mary dressed in a white ruffled nightgown. Mary running down Utopia's Main Street to tie a red ribbon around his upper arm. Mary. Lee raked his fingers through his hair. After deliberately omitting a huge chunk of his personal history, how the hell was he ever going to work up the courage to tell Mary he had been married before? After telling her about Tabby and seeing her reaction to Tabby's ultimatum, how could he break the news about Jeannie Carraway? He glanced at Edwin and realized his former father-in-law was speaking. Remembering.
"Jeannie was a strong-willed young woman. She had a mind of her own. She loved everyone and everyone loved her. We spoiled her, Lee. You and I, and even your father, Patrick. After you left for the war, she got it in her mind to ride out and watch the first battle. Patrick and I thought we had convinced her how dangerous it could be, that the battle to come wouldn't be an afternoon picnic. But she didn't believe that. She played along, Lee. She led us to believe she had forgotten all about riding out to watch the battle, then that morning, she did exactly what she wanted to do. She saddled her horse and rode out to watch her husband—her hero—whip the rebels. But it didn't turn out that way." Edwin wiped at the tears rolling down his face. "The Union forces lost that battle, and Jeannie was killed by a stray bullet."
"It shouldn't have happened," Lee insisted. "If only she had listened to me, listened to you. If only Patrick had done what he promised to do."
Edwin tightened his grip on Lee's shoulder. "You're right, it shouldn't have happened, but it did. And Jeannie's dead because she did something utterly foolish. She disobeyed you and me and Patrick. She got herself killed, my boy. We had nothing to do with it." Carraway sighed. "You waited long enough. It was time for you to remarry, Lee. Now, it's time for you to forgive Jeannie for being young and foolish and terribly in love with you, and to forgive me…"
"I never blamed you, Edwin."
"No," Edwin agreed. "You blamed yourself and you blamed Patrick for something he couldn'
t prevent. Lee, your father did his best to keep his promise. That's all any man can do. Forgive him, Lee. Forgive yourself."
Lee listened to Edwin's words and braced himself against the gut-wrenching pain that always came to him at the thought of Jeannie, at the mention of her name. But the pain and guilt that had torn him apart, that had ripped at his heart for so many years, was gone. Today, there was only sorrow and, for the first time in twelve years, Lee Kincaid felt at peace. Now, he could remember Jeannie—remember loving Jeannie Canaway—and smile.
Lee got to his feet and extended his hand in farewell. "Thank you again, Edwin."
"You're welcome, my boy," Edwin grasped Lee's hand once again and squeezed it hard. "Don't stay away so long next time. I'm here and you're always welcome. You're family, Lee, the only family I have left. It's time you accepted that. When Jeannie married you, you became my son. And she may have died, but you remained my son. Come back to see me, my boy. Bring your bride and your little girl."
A look of astonishment appeared on Lee's face as he stared at his former father-in-law.
Edwin opened his desk drawer once again, removed several papers, and handed them to Lee.
Lee recognized the stationery. The Agency's logo, the "Pinkerton Eye," stared back at him.
"Like I said," Edwin winked, "my friends keep me informed. I knew all about Tabitha Gray. And I'm looking forward to meeting Mary and Madeline."
* * *
Chapter Twenty
"My name is Lee Gordon," Lee announced to the very proper British butler who opened the door to the late Senator Millen's Georgetown house two days later. "And I'm here to see Mrs. Millen."
"Mrs. Millen isn't receiving visitors."
"I think she'll see me," Lee told him.
"The lady isn't seeing anyone." The butler attempted to close the door in Lee's face, but Lee anticipated the move and stopped him.
"Tell her I'm a representative from her late husband's bank. Tell her I've come to talk to her about some very large withdrawals made before and immediately after the senator's death." Lee reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a crisp white calling card with the words: Lee M. Gordon, Representative, Washington National Bank, printed on the front and handed it to the butler. "Oh, and be sure to tell her that if she refuses to see me, there will be a Senate investigation into alleged wrongdoings by the late Senator Warner Millen."
"Very good, sir. Wait here." The butler accepted Lee's calling card and withdrew into the interior of the house, leaving Lee standing on the stoop with the front door wide open. He patted the pocket of his canvas duster. Inside the pocket was a red leather-bound journal—Caroline Millen's journal. Anne Greenbery had given it to Willis at dinner last night, and Willis had had the book delivered to Lee's room at the Madison Hotel right after dinner. Lee had spent the rest of the night reading it. He had napped, breakfasted with Willis to discuss the contents of the journal, and finally ridden out to Georgetown to talk to Caroline's mother. Willis was waiting in a carriage down the block in case Sarrazin made an appearance.
Now, he stood listening as the British butler approached Mrs. Millen.
"I refuse to see anyone, Powell. Send him away."
"But, Madame, the gentleman says if you refuse to see him you will face a Senate investigation into your husband's, the late senator's, business and financial dealings."
"Who is this man?" Mrs. Millen asked.