The President's Shadow Read online

  Yet the longer I sit here and hold Tot’s cold hand, the more I realize that, whether it’s through song or anything else, there’s no getting rid of the unknown. The bumps will always be there. And so will those who love you.

  Taking out a ballpoint pen, I turn Tot’s hand palm-down, getting ready to press the point into his nail bed to test his reflexes.

  For months now, I’ve been searching through history, sifting through the most complex and screwed-up history of all: family history. I thought that finding the truth about my dad would bring me certainty and wipe away the unknown. But now that I have it, it doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, during all the time I was searching for the father I didn’t have, I’m not sure I fully appreciated the one I do have.

  I press the point of the pen into Tot’s nail bed. At the pain, he jerks his hand back. He’s definitely still in there.

  “You think I’m done with my bribes, old man? Father’s Day is coming, and until the day they die, KISS will still tour. Verizon Center. This August. You and me, third row. We’ll throw our panties onstage—or maybe some obscure historical documents.”

  The ventilator hisses in agreement. The machines ping. And KISS continues to rock and roll all night.

  As I hold Tot’s hand, his fingers convulse and jerk slightly, which always happens after I press the pen into his nail bed. It’s a reaction to the painful stimulus. But as I grip his hand tighter, I feel something. His fingers move more than before. Not by much. But by enough.

  “It was throwing the historical documents that got you in a tizzy, wasn’t it?” I ask.

  Tot still doesn’t answer. Not yet. But eventually, he will.

  “You really know the most romantic spots,” a female voice calls from the hallway. I turn just as Mina enters the room, twisting out of her winter coat. She’s wearing a great charcoal knit sweater and black boots that make her look even taller than she is.

  “Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln! Are you playing KISS?” she asks. Before I can even answer, her smile lights the room. “I used to love this song!”

  “Used to?” I challenge.

  She glances over at Tot. “He looks better than last time.”

  “He does, doesn’t he?” I say, still sitting in the vinyl seat, holding his hand.

  “If you want, we can stay.”

  “No, it’s okay. He knows I’ll be here tomorrow. Besides, he told me never to refuse a dinner date with a beautiful woman.”

  “Dinner? I thought you said you had something special planned.”

  “I do. When we’re done, I’m taking you on a brand-new tour of the Archives. The lights in the Treasure Vault have a dimmer. I’ll read you Lincoln’s early draft of the Emancipation Proclamation, and we’ll figure out what changes he made.”

  She looks at me, standing there. “Beecher White, you are the nerdiest, sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life. You know how to turn a girl on!”

  Laughing out loud and getting up from my chair, I give Tot a soft kiss on his forehead. “Toldja, right? You can fake boobs—you can’t fake brains.”

  “By the way,” Mina asks as I follow her out of the room and into the hospital hallway, “why’s there a picture of me in my black sweater on the armrest of Tot’s bed?”

  I grin at that. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Nico was right about one thing: Our souls have missions. Missions that we repeat over and over until we conquer them. For so long, I thought I knew what my mission was: to uncover my family’s history. I spend every day showing people the power of history. But history only has the power you give it.

  Heading for the elevator, I turn and take one last look at Tot, then another at Mina. You may never make peace with your father. But you can always make peace with yourself.

  ALSO BY BRAD MELTZER

  Novels

  The Tenth Justice

  Dead Even

  The First Counsel

  The Millionaires

  The Zero Game

  The Book of Fate

  The Book of Lies

  The Inner Circle

  The Fifth Assassin

  Nonfiction

  Heroes for My Son

  Heroes for My Daughter

  History Decoded

  I Am Amelia Earhart

  I Am Abraham Lincoln

  I Am Rosa Parks

  I Am Albert Einstein

  I Am Jackie Robinson

  I Am Lucille Ball

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Welcome

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

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  97

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  99

  100

  101

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  ALSO BY BRAD MELTZER

  Newsletters

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Forty-four Steps, Inc.

  Cover design by Jeff Miller/Faceout Studio

  Photograph of White House © P_Wei/Getty Images

  Photograph of helicopter © Jay Clendenin/Aurora Photos

  Engraving of the White House © Granger, NYC

  Cover copyright © 2015 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permissio
n must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  First ebook edition: June 2015

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  ISBN 978-0-446-55395-7

  E3