Beyond All Dreams (18 page)

Luke wended his way through the crowd on the staircase, angling around staffers and clerks as he made his way to the ground floor of the Capitol. Seeing that photograph of Violet took him by surprise. He knew about her marriage, of course. Over the years he and Violet had exchanged occasional letters, and she was delightfully happy with her Italian count, who was a much better match for her than Luke could have been.

But the fact that Anna felt curious enough to seek out information on Violet was a good sign. He hid his smile as he reached the basement level, noise and the scent of grilled meat drifting from the restaurant. The lunchroom was packed, with hundreds of clerks and secretaries lining up to get their food
quickly before heading back to work. There were fancier dining rooms set aside for members of Congress, but he didn't have time today for table service. He just needed to grab a sandwich and—

“Luke!”

He'd recognize that beautiful voice anywhere. Turning around, he caught sight of Anna O'Brien, her petite figure dwarfed by the dozens of other employees bustling toward the lunch counter.

She looked flushed with embarrassment as she approached him. “I mean, Mr. Callahan,” she amended, drawing near.

“Don't apologize,” he said with a grin. “I like it better when you call me Luke.”

Her mouth tightened, and she looked nervously around the lunchroom. “Mr. Callahan, I need to explain something. I need for you to understand—”

Her sentence was cut off by a gang of congressional pages, who bumped into her from behind as they plowed toward the sandwich counter. The pages received lunch as part of their wage, and boys in their teens were never too considerate of anyone who stood between them and a meal.

“Let's go to the congressional dining room,” he said. “It's quieter.”

“No!” she said, then cast a glance at the hundreds of people crammed into the lunchroom. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I have to be careful. I can't let rumors get started.”

The way she spoke under her breath with averted eyes made it seem as if she were passing him state secrets, and he struggled to hide the mirth from his face. With almost three thousand people working in the Capitol, finding a bit of privacy was almost impossible. He nodded to the terrace off the lunchroom. It had been sleeting all morning and no one was dining outside. The flagstone terrace was surrounded by a six-foot hedge and
contained dozens of empty tables. They were alone, but freezing. The icy wind cut through his jacket within seconds, and Anna looked even colder given the way she hugged her arms around her body.

“Should we go back inside?” he asked.

“No, this will only take a moment,” Anna said. She looked ill at ease in a way that had nothing to do with the frigid temperature. “Have you ever heard of a woman named Sarah Starling?”

He searched his memory, but came up blank. “Tell me,” he said.

It didn't take long for Anna to recount the story of a perfectly nice young lady who was caught kissing a congressman in the cloakroom. Sarah had been fired on the spot. The pieces started falling into place, and Luke realized it was more than the memory of Violet Desjardins that kept Anna at arm's length.

“All the women who work here are in a tricky position,” she said. “We need to be friendly and approachable, but can't ever get too close with any of the congressmen. I love my job and can't risk it just because a handsome man has a passing fancy for me.”

“So you think I'm handsome?”

She huddled against the wall to keep out of the wind. “Yes, until you open your mouth and your astounding ego slips out. Then the effect is spoiled.” Even shivering against a wall with her lips tinged blue, she looked delightful as she peeked up at him. Now that he understood her reluctance, he could battle it properly.

“You don't need to fear getting fired. I won't let rumors get started. And if they do, you won't be left destitute on the streets. I'd marry you before I let that happen.”

“I could never marry you!” She looked appalled, and if he weren't so taken aback, it would have been funny.

“Careful, O'Brien. For a moment my self-respect was about to recover, but then you had to go kick it in the teeth again.”

She winced and reached out to lay a hand on his arm. “It's just that I've seen what political wives need to do. They host parties and have tea with other fancy ladies. The happiest day of my life was when I graduated from school and could escape those kind of girls and do exactly what I wanted.”

“Which was what? Hide in a library?”

“I prefer to think of it as gainful employment in a career I love.”

He loved that he couldn't push her around, that she tilted up her chin and matched him barb for barb. He could stand out here in the sleet for hours and get lost in her flashing dark eyes and never grow bored. All he had to do was convince her how perfect they were for each other.

“Perhaps you'd love being a wife and mother. Most women seem to like it.”

She skewered him with a razor-sharp glare. “Most women aren't married to congressmen. There are a lot of drawbacks to a husband like that.”

“Have you ever met the president's wife?” Luke asked.

“We obviously move in different social circles. No, I've never met President McKinley's wife.”

“Neither have I,” he said. “That's because Ida McKinley is a recluse who rarely shows her face in public. And you know what? President McKinley is perfectly content with his wife's preferences. Rumor has it she knits booties all day. Booties! If the president's wife can withdraw from political life in favor of knitting booties, I expect the nation will survive if my wife chooses to abstain from political duties.”

She stared at him as though stunned by such a revelation. Did she think so little of herself that all he wanted was someone to host parties for him? Anna opened her mouth to say something, but sneezed instead.

“You're freezing,” he said. “Let's go through the congressional dining room instead. There will be fewer prying eyes.”

He guided her to the French doors farther down the terrace. They were locked, so he tapped on the glass until someone at a table near the window noticed and rose to let them in. It was Karl Winstead, the other congressman from Maine.

“Thanks, Karl,” Luke said, guiding Anna inside, savoring the warmth of the room. With luck, he might persuade Anna to join him for lunch. Congressmen invited visitors to dine in their private lunchroom all the time, but now that he knew of Anna's reluctance to trigger rumors, it would be hard to convince her to join him. He scanned the room, spotting a vacant table near the back.

“You might find the atmosphere a little chilly over yonder,” Karl said, humor in his eyes. Luke followed the man's gaze.

House Speaker Cornelius Jones was holding court just a few yards away, sitting like a king at the largest table in the room, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke. With thinning gray hair and a bloodless complexion, Speaker Jones always reminded Luke of a shriveled old scarecrow. Luke noted the other men sitting at the table, those gathering around to curry Jones's favor today.

Jones noticed, setting his cigarette down. “What's that I smell?” Speaker Jones asked as he sniffed the air. “Clams? Catfish? Or another bottom-feeder altogether?”

There was a rumble of laughter from the sycophants next to Jones, but then a hush fell over the dining room as others cast nervous glances Luke's way. Ever since being demoted to the Fisheries committee, Luke was accustomed to the teasing barbs and maintained a tight smile.

Beside him, Anna stiffened and seemed to shrink a few inches. He walked toward Jones with his head held high.

“I suppose there are plenty of bottom-feeders in Washington,” Luke said, eyeing the fawning admirers at Jones's table. He waved his hand to clear away the cigarette smoke. “I miss the clean, untainted air of Maine.”

“God willing, it won't be long before you can enjoy the Maine air permanently,” Jones said in a silky voice.

The implication was unmistakable. The next election was a year away, but Luke's political reputation was plummeting fast.

“It's always such a pleasure seeing you,” Luke said. “Each time we meet I discover entire new wonders of hot air. I keep waiting for the laws of gravity to take effect so that your house of cards will collapse along with you.”

The Speaker's only reply was to pull a long draw on his cigarette, the tip glowing in the dim light. Luke gestured for Anna to follow him from the room.

“I don't know how you can stand politics,” Anna muttered as they moved into the cooler atmosphere of the hallway outside.

“Are you trembling?” he asked. Luke enjoyed a little healthy confrontation, especially with a man who deserved it as much as Speaker Jones. Someday soon he would have enough information to sink Jones, but until he did, he would never turn tail and run from a confrontation.

“That man was the Speaker of the House!” Anna said, still wringing her hands. “You were hurling insults like Zeus with his thunderbolt, and I thought the room would combust at any moment. I hate this sort of thing.”

“Anna, it's just a little bluster. Look, I escaped with no scars. Come on, let me buy you lunch.”

She shook her head. “I need to get back to the library. We are officially moving into the new building over the weekend, and I have to pack up my desk.”

“This weekend?” He was surprised at the hitch in his voice.
If he and Anna no longer worked in the same building, it would be harder to see her, and that would be . . . He swallowed. How strange that just knowing she worked beneath the same roof as he had helped to brighten his day. It would be harder to court her if he couldn't dart upstairs at a moment's notice. The new library was only across the street, but it felt like she was slipping away and he hadn't made much headway in softening her resistance to him.

“Let me walk you back upstairs,” he said, his mind scrambling to find a way to continue seeing her after the library moved. Anna had almost completed the stack of research for him, and after that? He tried to reach for her hand, but she slid a few feet over, maintaining a proper distance between them.

“In the future we will have congressional pages deliver requests back and forth,” she said. “You need never come to the new library to—”

“I'll still come,” he said.

“It would be better if you didn't.”

He kept his expression neutral as he walked beside her up the grand staircase. With each floor the staircases got less formal, until they'd made it to the attic, where the map room was located. “And why is that?” he finally asked.

“We don't have to keep discussing this, do we? I would be a terrible wife for a congressman. You really ought to know how unsuitable I would be.”

She unlocked the door to the map room, but when she tried to open it he stepped in front, blocking her access. She froze, and he had a perfect view of her glossy hair, smoothed into a perfect coil only a few inches beneath his nose. She smelled of lemon and sunshine and a thousand summer days filled with laughter. If he moved even a fraction of an inch, his entire body
would be flush against hers. He held his breath, careful not to frighten her away.

“Anna,” he whispered, and was pleased at the way she stilled. She tipped her head up to look at him. He leaned down to murmur in her ear.

“Booties,” he whispered gently. “The president's wife knits booties all day.”

He kept his face pressed to her hair while he reached behind his back to twist the knob and push the door open. He then slipped around her, leaving her staring, openmouthed, as he waltzed back downstairs.

L
uke deliberately stayed away from the library for the next three days. Anna was well aware of his intentions toward her, but he didn't intend to moon about like a lovesick idiot while she got over her fears.

The problem was—and this annoyed him to no end—he missed her. And he
was
a lovesick idiot. He couldn't concentrate because he kept wondering how the move to the new library was progressing, if she was going to be happier in that gilded monstrosity across the street, and if she was thinking about him at all.

The library had closed during the week while movers packed the last of the books into crates and lugged the furniture to the first floor of the Capitol, where it cluttered the floor of the rotunda until it could be carted across the street.

On the day of the move itself, Luke surrendered to the whims of his infatuation, put on his heavy coat, and headed to the new library. The space between the two buildings was choked with carts and wagons. The Army Corp of Engineers had built the new library, and their soldiers were overseeing the move as well.
Desks, filing cabinets, and tables filled the terrace, waiting to be hauled inside. Little white tags with room designations had been tied to each piece of furniture, and dozens of soldiers scrambled amid the disorder, hoisting chairs and desks onto rolling carts.

An army officer directed the operation, checking items off a chart. “Sir, the library is closed to the public,” the officer said when he noticed Luke. “You'll need to move along.”

“I'd like to help,” Luke offered.

“Absolutely not. The Capitol police are removing people who've gotten too curious, so I'll ask you one more time before I summon the police.”

It was the army's efficiency that had brought this monumental project to completion on time and under budget, and the move appeared to be progressing like a well-oiled clock. They didn't need his help, but this was a big day for Anna and he wanted to share it with her.

He stepped forward and extended his hand. “We haven't been introduced. Representative Luke Callahan, second congressional district of Maine.” Luke rarely flaunted his credentials, yet he wasn't going to be turned away. Not today.

The officer stood a little straighter. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I'd like to help,” Luke repeated. He nodded toward the oversized map cases on the far side of the terrace. “I'm particularly anxious to see the map room back in operation.”

The officer consented and appointed two soldiers to help Luke hoist the first of the map cases onto a cart. Its wheels squeaked under the weight as he guided the cart toward the building. Solemn sculptures of Benjamin Franklin and Sir Walter Scott stared down on him from the entablature above the entrance. The massive bronze doors featured carvings of slinky nymphs reading from scrolls. Inside, the interior of the great hall swarmed
with workers using pulleys to hoist furniture over the ornate banisters and lugging crates up the stairs. The air hummed with excitement. Voices echoed and bounced off the marble floors and vaulted ceilings embellished with breathtaking murals.

Given the weight of the map case, the elevator was the only way to get it upstairs. The map case barely fit inside the compartment, and all three men had to hold their breath as the doors closed and the floor lifted beneath them. It wasn't that he was afraid of technology, but elevators seemed silly to him . . . until it was time to carry a five-hundred-pound map case to the third floor.

The top floor was as impressive as the first, with the hallway walls covered by murals of people reading, writing, and telling stories around a fire. The women in the murals were idealized personifications of memory, imagination, truth, and research. Luke had a stupid smile on his face as he wheeled the map case down the hall. He'd voted against the funding for this palace, but it was impossible not to gape at the wonder of it all. He wheeled the cart down an acre of floors that gleamed with polished metal and stone mosaics until they finally arrived at the map room.

He let the two men roll the huge case into the room while he lingered in the doorway to drink in the sight of Anna O'Brien. Dressed in a simple brown skirt and white shirt, she looked dusty, sweaty, and quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her face glowed as she directed a gangly man to position a topographical map of Antarctica on the far wall.

“Here?” the gangly man asked. “Make sure you like it, because I'm not moving it again.”

“It's perfect,” Anna said. “Absolutely perfect. Let me get a hammer.” She hurried to a desk in the corner, piled high with unpacked crates. She looked over, then under the desk. Luke grabbed the hammer from the stepladder in front of him.

“Looking for this?”

Anna whirled around. “Luke! Can you believe it? Have you ever seen anything so grand?”

He considered the question for a moment. Washington was full of spectacular buildings, but nothing rivaled what he had seen today. “I agree,” he said. “It's magnificent.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought the army had everything under control. Don't tell me they've recruited members of Congress for the heavy lifting.”

She was doing it again, drawing him in with that velvety voice that melded excitement and curiosity. He had no excuse for being here and would rather be skinned alive than admit the real reason he'd come. He kept his face neutral, but couldn't resist a bit of teasing.

“I figure I'd better help get this library back in operation or I'll be destined to go to my grave with unfulfilled daydreams about the effect of cranberries on the American economy.”

“Can you two compare notes later?” the gangly man said, his hands still bracing a map high above his head. “This thing is heavy!”

“Sorry!” Anna gasped, racing forward with the hammer. “Luke, this is my best friend, Neville Bernhard, from the Patent Office. He's been helping me all day.”

After the map was properly displayed, Anna gave Luke an impromptu tour of the room. A window overlooked First Street and had a view of the Capitol. It was infinitely more spacious than the old map room, with a librarian's desk, three worktables, and five aisles of bookshelves on the far side of the room. The other side was reserved for the map cases.

“We'll have space for more atlases,” Anna said excitedly, “but some of my maps are going to be dispersed to the Africa and Asia rooms. Can you believe it? We'll have an entire reading
room devoted to Africa. We've got special collections for folklore and business and religion. And the blind!” She reached out to lay both hands on his arm, squeezing. “There's an entire room dedicated to blind people that has Braille books and globes with raised features, and we'll be hosting daily readings for blind people. . . .”

Her voice choked off as tears pooled in her eyes. He remembered feeling like that when he was younger. There were days when he would open the pages of a book and be struck dumb by the wellspring of emotions the book could conjure. Anna's bottom lip started to wobble, and she tried again, talking through happy tears in a way that made Luke want to weep along with her.

“I know you think this library is a spectacular waste of money, but it says something about this country, that we would lavish such a fortune on books and learning. This building is a celebration. An unabashed, glorious hymn to the human endeavor to collect knowledge. . . .” Her voice choked off again, and a fat tear plopped down the side of her face.

“She's been weepy all morning,” Neville said. “All it took was one look at the statue in the great hall of the goddess holding up the Torch of Knowledge, and she started getting all misty-eyed.”

Anna threw a crumpled-up ball of paper at Neville, who caught it and pitched it back at her.

Luke narrowed his eyes. These two seemed very friendly with one another. Too friendly.

Perhaps this was the reason Anna had been holding him at arm's length. Neville Bernhard didn't look like a romantic rival. He was as skinny as a bean pole and had a body that jerked and twitched, but it was impossible to overlook the camaraderie between the two. He didn't like it.

Anna scampered after the ball of paper and launched it back
at Neville, then dove for cover behind a map case. They seemed as delighted as two children on a playground. He needed to get out of there.

“I'll go get the next map case,” he grumbled.

By the time he wheeled the next map case upstairs, he arrived at the map room to the appalling sight of Anna sitting on Neville's shoulders as she placed a globe atop a tall bookshelf. Her skirts were hiked up, with both legs draped over his shoulders as she reached to position the globe. Leather boots covered her ankles, but her calves were plainly visible beneath her skirts.

“Just what I always wanted to know,” he said in a stiff voice. “The color of Miss O'Brien's stockings.” He hadn't meant to sound so blunt, but her stockings were showing all the way to her knees! Luke hadn't seen such a shocking display since he visited a lumber camp when a wagonload of dancing girls came to spend the weekend with the loggers. And this was a
library
, for pity's sake.

Anna blushed. “Oops! I'd better get down.” Luke held his breath as Neville sank to his knees, Anna swaying like a ship's mast in a choppy sea. She rolled off his shoulders, tugging her skirt down and sending an embarrassed smile his way.

“Regained our dignity, have we? The world can breathe a little easier.”

“I'll help you with the next map case,” Neville said, casually following Luke out the door and down the steps.

Luke stared straight ahead, an unfamiliar curl of jealousy unfolding and expanding in his gut. What did Anna see in this gawky, twitchy man? He was about to stride through the door onto the terrace when a hand clamped around his arm and pulled him aside. Neville propelled Luke toward the empty coat closet on the first floor. The goofy, affable look was gone from Neville's face.

“Lay off Anna,” the younger man ordered in a low voice. “You have no idea how fragile she is. She's good at pretending to be tough, but she heard the scorn in your voice. I won't let you throw stones at her.”

Luke pulled back a step. “What's between the two of you anyway? It's more than a simple friendship.”

“True. She's my sister.”

Luke sucked in a breath, but Neville rushed to clarify. “There's no blood relationship, but we share the same spirit, the same heart. That's been true since we were eight years old.” The man's twitches grew worse. His neck and shoulders seized with repeated jerks, though they didn't take away from the quiet intensity in his face.

“It wasn't a lot of fun growing up,” Neville continued quietly. “Anna didn't have an easy time either, and we formed a friendship that will last until the final breath leaves my body. I'm not sure why you've been showing so much interest in Anna, but I'll figure it out eventually. Let me be blunt. I may look skinny and weak, but if you hurt Anna, I will metaphorically kill you, burn your village, and sow your fields with salt. Is that clear?”

Neville stepped closer until they were nose to nose. Since arriving in Washington, Luke had taken on political rivals, labor leaders, and overbearing military officers, but the resolve in Neville Bernhard's steely eyes was unlike anything Luke had experienced.

“I'm glad to hear it,” Luke said calmly.

“You are?”

Luke owed the younger man an explanation. He'd been hostile and rude, deliberately so, because the sight of Anna atop another man had set off a flare of irrational jealousy Luke had no business feeling. He intended to change that.

“You say you can't figure out my interest in Anna O'Brien, so
allow me to clarify it. I want to put Anna on a pedestal, drape her with tourmalines, and write endless streams of extravagant poetry for her. I want to shower her with books and typewriters and whatever else she needs to keep her overactive imagination fueled. But she won't let me get close to her. If I fail, I'd like to know she has someone by her side to look out for her.”