Home of the Brave Page 6
“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 trys
t. 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?”
“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.
<
br /> “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.”