The Last Refuge by Marcia Talley Page A

Naval Academy chapel.’
    The cornerstone for the chapel, a Beaux Arts treasure designed by architect Ernest Flagg, had been laid in 1904. Amy’s room, in the west wing overlooking the garden, would have an unobstructed view of the chapel’s magnificent dome. ‘If our Founding Father were here right now,’ I teased, ‘he’d tell you that was impossible. The chapel won’t be built for more than a century.’
    Amy simply stared at me. Unwittingly, I must have hit a nerve. I felt like a total shit when she explained, ‘It’s kinda ironic, but three years ago, Drew and I were married in that chapel.’
    I laid a hand on each of her thin shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. ‘Oh, Amy, I’m so sorry. Me and my big mouth.’
    â€˜It’s OK, Hannah. I miss him, sure, but it’s over now. Drew’s dead. I’ve sold the condo. The furniture’s in storage. It’s time to move on.’
    Next door, Melody had turned the volume up. ‘You make me feel that, la la la la la, you make me feel so, la la la la la . . .’
    The moment was so not-according-to-the-script that Amy and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. ‘At least somebody’s happy,’ Amy said.
    I picked a hand mirror up from my bedside table and studied my face in the early morning light. ‘My eyebrows are pitiful. There’s a bit of a uni-brow thing going on here.’ Still holding the mirror, I turned to Amy. ‘What did they use for tweezers back then?’
    â€˜Tweezers? I’m sure they go back to Egyptian times. Do you want me to ask the diary cam?’
    I laughed. ‘No, I’ll do it. I have to do something with these eyebrows if I’m to be seen in polite company.’
    With a nervous glance out the window, Amy said, ‘I laid out your green silk today, but with the weather . . .’
    I hopped out of bed, opened up the trunk at its foot and started pawing through it.
    â€˜If they think I’m going to wear a silk gown in this weather, they’re crazy. Homespun will do nicely, I think.’ I pulled out a dark blue gown. ‘What do you think about this?’
    â€˜Nice.’ She handed me my petticoat. While she waited for me to step into it, she said, ‘Drew and I really didn’t have all that much time together. First it was the training, then he was deployed.’ She shrugged. ‘You know what they say after the wedding ceremony, when you walk through the arch of swords on the chapel steps and they whack you on the butt?’
    I did, and I said so, but she reminded me of it anyway. ‘“Welcome to the Navy, Mrs Cornell.” I was twenty-five years old, and thought I knew everything, but nothing really prepares you to be a Navy wife, does it? A users’ manual would have come in handy.’
    Amy helped me into my dress, pinned the stomacher in place, then watched, head cocked to one side, as I arranged a scarf around my neck. Once that was done, I could no longer ignore the letter that sat on the silver tray, its official wax seal staring at me accusingly like a big red eye.
    I snatched the letter from the tray, plopped down in the chair, slipped my finger under the seal and opened it up. ‘Oh, blast, hell and damnation!’
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜It seems that George Washington is passing through Annapolis on Saturday, a stopover on his way from Mount Vernon to Philadelphia for a meeting of the Continental Congress. He’s representing Virginia, no surprise. He’ll be staying here overnight. Damn.’
    The color drained from Amy’s face. ‘
The
George Washington? As in the first president of the United States?’
    â€˜Bingo. But he’s only a colonel. He won’t be president until . . .’ I paused to think. ‘. . . until 1789. That’s fifteen years in the future.’
    â€˜But, all our bedrooms are taken! Where will Colonel Washington