Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ginger
Lucy’s parlor resembled a military office now—with tables covered by maps of Cairo and piles of papers everywhere. On the telephone at a small end table, Lucy was chatting in low tones with one of her friends, her body half-draped with exhaustion across the arm of the sofa.
Alastair had returned from Alexandria just hours earlier—having barely gotten there and turned around after Lucy’s message to come back to Cairo.
He’d taken the last train out of Alexandria the evening before, arriving before the break of dawn.
And though Ginger doubted Alastair had slept, he’d buzzed in and out of the room, sending servants out with telegrams or notes to contacts around the city.
Victoria, too, seemed to have cast off her state of worry, now emboldened with the idea that Ivy might still be in Cairo.
She’d pulled out her own list of former allies and even less-than-savory underground connections from years ago and started sending messages.
Unfortunately, many on Victoria’s list were no longer as relevant as she’d hoped.
They just needed to find Prescott. No matter how manipulative the slippery villain was, he wasn’t transparent. Someone had to know something about his movements in Cairo. He had to have been seen. Someone had to know who he was.
And once they found him …
Ginger had a plan. She’d worked on it all night with Jane Radford, who’d come to meet Ginger at Lucy’s house late last night and stayed until she’d left for her clinic after dawn.
As a clinician and a medical officer for the military in Cairo since the war, Jane had quite a bit of sway.
Enough to be able to order a house be entered and search a home where there were reasonable grounds to believe it was the source of a notifiable disease, like tuberculosis.
Jane was willing to claim she had grounds to help Ginger—they just needed an address.
But now, since Jane had gone back to the clinic, Ginger paced in the parlor, feeling idle. She sank into a chair, trying to calm herself.
The idea that Alex had been so close to freedom—so close to her, not even knowing that she’d come all the way to Cairo for him—was maddening.
She wanted, more than anything, to hug her son.
To kick herself for every time she’d ever scolded him for something as silly as taking equipment from her office.
He was smart and curious. She should have always encouraged that curiosity rather than let her trivial worries about the cost of supplies put unnecessary stress on her relationship with him.
Noah had always found a way to avoid letting that precocious side of Alex bother him. Why can’t I?
For far too long she’d allowed the stress of running the hospital seep into the way she handled her children. While Noah spent so much time with Clara and Alex, Ginger often stayed behind.
She loved her work.
Loved being a physician and running a hospital.
But she loved her family more.
She had to find a better balance. Alex and Clara were practically grown.
If she ever got Alex back again—she was determined to change.
The butler entered the room just then and Ginger looked up sharply, hope flaring into her chest and cutting through her thoughts of regret. “My lady,” he said, looking toward Lucy. “Khalib is here. He has—”
The butler didn’t finish. Khalib opened the door behind him, pushing through. And, at his heels—
Ivy.
Ginger gasped, her chair scraping against the tile as she rose. Victoria’s gaze snapped to the doorway and, with a sound that was half a sob, half a shout, she dropped the book in her hands. It thudded to a rug, forgotten, as she rushed forward.
Ginger hurried behind Victoria. If Ivy was here—what about Alex?
For a heartbeat, Ginger could only see the tangle of their arms, the press of faces—but the sound of Ivy’s voice reached her, small and raw, and it struck her harder than the sight itself. It was the sound of a girl who had run out of fear, run out of tears, and only just remembered she could stop.
“Ivy! Oh, thank God!” Victoria cried.
“Mama,” Ivy managed weakly. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, staining the dirt on her cheeks.
Her thin arms clung to Victoria’s neck, and Ginger couldn’t help but notice the state of her clothes and shoes—the same dress she’d been wearing when she’d vanished from home, now limp and dark with dirt and stains.
Her throat thickened with tears. Ginger had known Ivy since infancy—Ivy had spent her whole life with them at Penmore, like a sister to Ginger’s own children.
But, until that moment, she’d never truly realized why Victoria had come to live there while having the money to live elsewhere. Because, despite having spent a lifetime around Ivy, it wasn’t until this second that she saw Jack so clearly in Ivy’s face.
Her eyes were Jack’s. Exactly.
How had I never seen it?
Ivy’s shoulders trembled under Victoria’s hands. Her gaze darted around the room—the gilt-framed mirror, the polished tea set gleaming on the sideboard—as if reacquainting herself with a world that felt both familiar and impossibly far away.
Ginger let her have those few seconds. Then she tore her gaze from the girl’s dirt-smudged cheek to look anxiously at Khalib, then to the hallway behind him. “Alex? What about Alex?” she asked Khalib.
His brow furrowed, his expression blank. “Alex?”
Ivy sniffled, pulling back from her mother. “I escaped on my own,” she managed in a choked voice. “Right after a man—Mr. Federline—took us to his house.”
No! God, no! Then Alex really was in Prescott’s hands.
“I-I saw him talking to someone outside his house. One of the men who kidnapped me. And I ran. Alex is still there.”
Despite her best efforts to remain stalwart, Ginger reached a hand toward Khalib, steadying herself on his forearm.
Somehow, she hadn’t wanted to believe it. Even after the disappearance. And the note he’d left Lucy. She’d known he was missing, but part of her had hoped he was still safe despite that.
But he wasn’t safe. “Then Prescott wasn’t lying.
He’s had Alex this whole time,” Ginger said dully, still gripping Khalib.
She searched Ivy’s face. “How did you manage to escape and come here a couple of days ago?” And how was it possible that they couldn’t seem to find Prescott’s house—surely someone else might know about it.
Or Prescott has ways of keeping people silent that I don’t want to consider.
Victoria wrapped a protective arm around Ivy’s shoulder. “Why don’t you sit, darling? I’m sure Lucy can have a servant draw a bath, too, and get you something to eat.”
“Of course,” Lucy said, her footsteps echoing behind Ginger.
Ginger turned to see both Lucy and Alastair there, their expressions grim but sympathetic. They’d quietly left their conversations and tasks after Khalib and Ivy’s arrival, but Ginger had been so focused on Ivy that she hadn’t noticed.
Alastair held an arm out for Ginger, then squeezed Khalib’s shoulder. “Well done, son.”
Khalib nodded, then gave Ivy a friendly smile. “She found me. I was at Café Riche. I took her back home to Old Cairo first, waited for you to send word from Alexandria. Then Ammon showed up and said you were here.”
Café Riche?
If Ivy had found Khalib there—if she’d walked there from wherever Federline had taken her—then Federline couldn’t be too far from here.
Ginger said nothing though, allowing Alastair to lead her toward the sofa. They sat directly across from Victoria and Ivy, who’d already taken a seat.
Lucy hurried over with a blanket and tucked it around Ivy’s shoulders, then started to clear the coffee table between the sofas. “I’ve asked the housekeeper to get you tea, milk, and toast with jam. I’ll have Cook make porridge too. What else do you want? You must be exhausted.”
“I am,” Ivy admitted, staring down at her hands, which hadn’t stopped trembling.
“It’s all right,” Victoria said in a firm, motherly tone. She set her hand over the top of Ivy’s. “You’re safe now. And we’ll get you fed and taken care of.”
“It would be helpful,” Alastair said gently, “if you could give us an idea of where Prescott Federline is hiding Alex, Ivy. We have a plan ready to help extricate him, but we’re not certain where to look.”
Ivy’s eyes were red-rimmed, and she nodded. “I got lost. I walked for ages. But I-I’ll try. I’m so sorry,” she said to Ginger more directly. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, darling.” Victoria’s arm went tightly around her shoulder, and she hugged Ivy to her chest. “No, my love. No. You’re no more to blame than Alex is for any of this. Neither of you asked to be kidnapped from home.”
“You don’t understand, Mama,” Ivy said, pulling herself from her.
She looked back at Ginger. “Alex saved me. He wasn’t kidnapped—I was.
He followed me all the way to Southampton somehow …
then stowed away on the cargo ship they took me on.
Crawled through the vents and found me. He even created an elaborate diversion to free me from the ship and we escaped into Port Said. ”
Ginger’s eyes widened, and she exchanged a look with Lucy, who had stiffened.
Alex … did what?
She didn’t know if she should be proud of him or throttle him for it.
Why hadn’t he even attempted to come and get her or Noah?
Then Alastair chuckled. “Sounds like he’s a chip off the old block.”
The words hung there, too close to the truth for Ginger’s comfort. She thought of Noah when they’d met—all reckless charm and unshakable certainty that he could outwit the world. Alex had that same spark, the same stubborn refusal to stay out of trouble when someone he loved needed him.
It should have made her proud. Instead, it made her want to shake him until his teeth rattled. She glared at Alastair. “It’s not funny.”
“I didn’t say it was, old girl—no need to get your feathers ruffled,” Alastair said with a smile.
When Ginger’s glare only deepened, he laughed again.
“Oh, all right. It’s a little funny at least. But, admit it—Noah would have done the same thing.
The boy is just like his father. You can’t fault him for being brave and selfless. ”
Ginger frowned. She didn’t want to admit it. But, then again, it was precisely those qualities about Noah that had stolen her heart so many years ago.
“But I don’t understand. You escaped into Port Said, then came to Cairo—only to be captured again?” Lucy asked. She sat beside Alastair and gave his knee a gentle, discreet squeeze, as though to tell him to stop bothering Ginger.
Ivy rubbed her eyes, the exhaustion in her pretty face showing more clearly.
Her eyes were puffy, swollen underneath.
“Alex didn’t want to go to the consulate—I talked him into it, you see.
He stumbled across a code in the newspaper we came across in Kantara.
A journalist left a message—help me—in code, and he was worried.
And once we went to the consulate, Mr. Federline came and took us from there.
He said he had a notebook with articles from that journalist that he wanted Alex to decode.
Alex never knew Mr. Federline had any connection to the kidnapper—I didn’t have a chance to tell him before I ran. ”
No wonder the page had been missing from the logbook.
That was it, then. The whole story. Federline had never intended to kidnap Alex—but Alex had wound up in Federline’s hands all the same.
And now they had to get him back.
Ginger leaned forward. “If you look at a map, do you think you can find the area you were in?”
“Wait—what’s this about a newspaper code?” Alastair stood, his expression curious. “What code? What journalist?”
Ivy looked increasingly more upset. “I—”
“Alastair, I hardly think that’s relevant,” Ginger snapped, her patience beginning to thin.
“Well, we don’t know that. If Federline is using Alex to decode articles, it very well may be relevant.”
“But not nearly as important as getting Alex back immediately.” Ginger stood and lifted one of the maps Lucy had cleared from the coffee table. “Ivy, if you’ll take a look at this—”
“Enough,” Victoria said coldly. She gave both Ginger and Alastair a withering stare.
“I know you’re scared, Ginger, but Ivy’s been through a horrible ordeal.
The last thing she needs is to be pressed into service before she’s even had a chance to catch her breath or have a sip of water.
You’re a mother, yes, and I understand that, but you’re also a physician.
We have no idea what she’s been through in the hands of strange men. ”
Ginger’s heart stumbled, a wave of shame cutting through her as she caught the full meaning of Victoria’s implication. Of course.
And, yet, her desperation continued to pulse at the ragged edges of her mind, flaying through her skin like a knife.
But, my son.
Still, Ginger drew a deep breath and nodded. “I understand.”
Ivy sat straighter, pushing the blanket away.
“No—it’s all right, Mama. I want to help both Aunt Ginger and Alastair.
I want to help Alex. He’d do the same for me.
” A look of determination crossed her face, then she turned and gripped Victoria’s hands.
“I’m all right. Hungry and tired. But I’m safe. And I’m not a child. I can help.”
Her words seemed to have a strange effect on Victoria, who blinked at her with surprise. Ginger had known Victoria long enough to know that it was nearly impossible to change her mind once she decided upon something—but Ivy seemed to know how to defuse her mother.
Before Victoria could answer, Ivy turned toward Ginger. “I don’t know that I can find it on a map, but if you put me in a car and drive me, I can find my way there from the consulate.”
“Thank you,” Ginger said, relief breaking through the wall of pressure constricting her heart.
“Maybe you should rest some first,” Victoria suggested.
“No, Mama. It’s fine. Toast and tea would be nice, but I can manage.”
Victoria nodded. Then her gaze lifted, meeting Ginger’s. A sadness lit her eyes—one Ginger understood better than ever, now knowing that Alex had taken off to save Ivy.
Somewhere along the way their children had grown and didn’t need them quite so much. As each subsequent year passed, they’d need them less.
And I spent the last few years so overwhelmed that I barely noticed.
Ginger swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’d be grateful for your help, Ivy.”
She wouldn’t think about the years she’d spent missing family outings for hospital meetings, or the dinners Noah had eaten alone with the children while she stayed late on the ward. That could wait. Regret could wait.
Right now there was only one thing worth her time, her breath, her blood if necessary. She was going to get Alex back—and God help anyone who stood in her way.