The Sapphire Brooch by Katherine Logan (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

said, “She was asking about my mood, not my health.”

Jack held his fist out for a fist bump but Braham looked at him awkwardly. “Bump your fist against mine.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Braham gave him a fist bump which ended up being more of a punch. Jack spread his fingers and shook his hand. “Not so hard. This is an important guy ritual. Let’s try it again. It’s more about touching your knuckles than an actual punch.” Jack reached out his fist again and Braham applied the right amount of force this time.

Braham glanced down into his coffee. “I can do a fist bump, but it doesn’t mean I belong here. I don’t understand yer jokes or yer customs. Helplessness is emasculating, especially for a soldier. I’ve spent four years in a war. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. But I never doubted my manhood until now. I’ve failed my president. I’ve failed myself. I don’t know why I’m here.”

Jack sipped his coffee, tapping his foot softly.

“Ye understand those sentiments,” Braham continued. “They’re similar to what ye experienced at the monastery. I don’t have six months to follow ye around, to find my own path. The path I’m on leads to a tragic end. If ye won’t take me back, I’ll find another way.”

“Let’s eat breakfast,” Jack said. “Then I thought we’d go to Washington.”

Braham arched his brows.

“Sorry, buddy. Not your Washington, but mine. There’s something I need to show you.”

Jack had his own important reasons for helping Braham return to his time. He wanted to go, too. He had done extensive research on the sixteenth president. In one article, he had described Lincoln as the captain who had guided America’s ship through stormy seas of secession and civil war and then led the people to a safe harbor called peace. Following the release of the article, a line of text had trended on Twitter, which resulted in a bump in sales for both his fiction and nonfiction books.

He had planned to write a follow-up article about how Lincoln’s untimely death had caused the president to become a martyr to the cause of liberty, but Jack discovered he had nothing new to add to the discussion. An interview with Lincoln, Grant, or even Booth could give him enough new material to write a full-length book. He framed the premise in his mind: How did Lincoln’s mythic stature grow over the century to the point where he was now considered America’s greatest president?

So all he had to do, Jack thought as he sipped his coffee, was help Braham understand how saving the president’s life would prevent Lincoln from becoming immortal. Once Jack accomplished that, he would have to then convince Charlotte she wouldn’t land in another high-risk adventure with bullets flying over her head.

Convincing Braham might actually be easier than convincing his sister.

16

Washington, D.C., Present Day

An hour later Jack and Braham climbed into the Range Rover for their day trip to Washington. Jack put on his seat belt and so did Braham, sliding it easily across his chest and clicking in the latch plate without glancing down.

“You sure you’re feeling up to this?” Jack asked.

“I’m not accustomed to staying indoors.” He knocked on the window glass. “I’m still closed in, but at least I can have the wind on my face. Is Charlotte coming with us?”

Jack started the car and put it into gear. “She said she would call if she could rearrange her schedule. I doubt she’ll do it. Nothing comes between her and her precious hospital.”

“Ye don’t like her work taking up so much of her time, do ye?”

“I don’t have a problem with her job. I have a problem with her believing she doesn’t need anything else in her life.”

Braham pushed the window button and watched the glass disappear inside the door, then pulled the button in the other direction, raising the window. “What do ye have besides yer books?”

Jack chuckled. “More than she does. Charlotte calls me a serial monogamist.”

“What’s that?”

“A person who moves from the end of one relationship to the beginning of a new relationship as quickly as possible. I’m not quite that bad. But what about you? Are you married?”

“Never found a woman with the right mix of cleverness and sass.”

“There probably aren’t many eligible women in Washington…in your Washington, I mean.”

Braham chuckled, remembering the stack of invitations to dinner parties and balls he’d declined prior to leaving for Richmond. He intended to thank the president for rescuing him from dozens of overbearing mothers, eager to marry off their daughters. “Ye’d be surprised how many educated and wealthy women there are, but none of them interest me.”

“What? Are you hard to please?”

“I’d prefer to be the pursuer, not the pursued.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

They drove down the lane, a country road lined with vineyards. “I’ve seen several vineyards. How’s the wine?” Braham asked.

“Pretty good. It took a few years to get the vines established, but in the last two years The Lane Winery has won several awards.” Jack’s phone rang, flashing Charlotte’s name. He answered using the Bluetooth speaker phone connection. “Hey, sis. What’s up?”

“I cleared my calendar. Where are you?”

“We’re not on the highway yet.”

“Oh, good. Come get me.”

Jack tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure we want you to go. You’ll put a damper on our conversation.”

Braham shook his head and mouthed, “No, she won’t.”

“It’ll take you thirty minutes to get here,” Charlotte said. “You can tell Braham everything you know about women in ten minutes, all your dirty jokes in five, and how to avoid an STD in thirty seconds. You’ll be talking sports by the time you pick me up, and I know as much about that as you do.”

“What about the subtle nuances of dating in the twenty-first century?”

“From what your ex-girlfriends say, you don’t know any.”

Jack slapped his chest. “Insulted by my own sister.”

Charlotte laughed. “I’m getting off the phone before you start in on me. I’ll be waiting on the