Mr. Lincolns personal physician was a gaunt young man with a cadaverous complexion. He was quick and capable, but he always wore the expression of someone carrying the weight of the world. Friendly enough despite his nervous disposition, he was well liked and trusted, even by Gideon, who had worked with him before. Together they had designed and perfected the ex-presidents wheeled chair, as well as some of the other tools that made life easier for the badly crippled politician.
Gideon! Nelson cried. There you arethank God!
Not a greeting I get every day.
The doctor reached out and grabbed the scientist by the coat lapels, drawing him bodily inside and shutting the door behind them both. We just heard about the explosion, and Ephraim said there was no sign of you out at the Jefferson building. I was on my way to to to see if I could find you, I suppose. Did you walk all the way back?
Yes.
Dear God, its freezing out there.
No, not quite.
From the parlor doorway, a woman gasped. Oh, Mr. Bardsley!
Gideon threw her a nod, but did not make eye contact. Polly, he greeted the household lady-in-waiting, as Mrs. Lincoln often called her. One part maid, one part nurse, Polly Lockhart was a girl of mixed and indeterminate racemore white than otherwise. She was stout and small, much like the former first lady herself. She wrung her hands together, so theyd have something to do besides flutter.
Dr. Wellers was just about to go looking for you.
So he says.
The doctor went to the nearby liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff draught of very good bourbon, then offered one to Gideon, too. He shifted his bundle of paper and accepted the glass, knowing better than to hope itd warm his feet, but appreciating the gesture. The beverage and the crystal service set beside it were a gift from a French ambassador, and easily worth more than his niece. He knew, because ten years ago hed bought her freedom when he couldnt steal it. The cost of the furnishings could have brought many more families across the line. The math filled his head but did not make it spin. Very few things could accomplish such a feat, least of all numbers.
Gideon downed the drink and watched the new electric lights sparkle through the damp crystal.
One of Pollys fluttering, fretful hands touched his arm. What happened out there? she asked. Can I help you with your with this package?
No, Polly. Ive got it under control. Two men broke in, he answered her first question, handing the glass back to Nelson and glancing at his feet. He still couldnt feel them, but he watched as they dripped and oozed a large damp spot on a very expensive rug from somewhere in the Ottoman empire.
Are you sure you arent hurt? the doctor tried again, scrutinizing Gideon with a professional appraisal that was already telling him that all was well. Can Polly take your coat? he asked, his dubious tone suggesting he already knew the answer to that, too.
No, Gideon replied, a little too quickly. No, Ill just sit a minute by the fire, if you dont mind. I need to see Mr. Lincoln. He squeezed the printout. It felt strange, like it had shrunk on the way from the hospital. But itd only become crushed as hed kneaded it down, over and over again, making sure he didnt drop it. He needs to see this. This is what they came for.
He barely heard the faint motor hum of the presidents chair approaching, but he did hear it because he expected it, and he listened for it.
Nelson Wellers stood aside, and Polly withdrew to the edge of the room. Gideon stayed where he was, and the sixteenth president of the United States rolled into their midst.
His chair was a marvel of science, the only one of its kind. Propelled by an electric motor, it was
manipulated with small levers and buttons, customized for the old mans long, slender hands. Those fingers, which had once signed laws into being, were crumpled now, bending and unbending only with great effort; but they were firm on the steering paddle as he brought himself forward.
This was the man who wouldve freed Gideons family, if hed had the chance. If the bullet hadnt blown his head almost in two, leaving him a stiff, twisted figure made of scars and odd angles. He was a hero. That made Gideon a hero by proxy, so far as his mother and brothers were concerned. His mother told everyone about it: how her boy worked hand in hand with the great leader, coming into his house through the front door like a proper gentleman. Her gushing pride embarrassed him for complicated reasonsreasons he never shared, because they wouldve only confused her.
Abraham Lincoln gazed levelly at the scientist with his one good eye. Gideon, you did it.
Not a question, but a statement of certainty. Abraham Lincoln liked to be certain, almost as much as Gideon did.
Yes sir, but this is all I could save. I needed more time.
We always do. The former president nodded solemnly, his thin frame bobbing softly in the narrow black suit he so often wore. It will have to be enough. He gestured toward the library, and turned the chair to face it. Polly, he called over his shoulder. Could you bring Dr. Bardsley a pair of slippers? Something from my closet, to wear until his boots are dry.