Page 25 of Queen of Ruin

DARREN

We step inside and as spectacular as it is, there’s something about her in this room that rivals the Faulkner murals that grace the rounded walls of the rotunda.

“Fifteen minutes for what?” she inquires.

“The museum is closed for a private event,” I explain, and looks around as if she’s just now noticing how empty the rotunda is. “We have fifteen minutes before Bernie has to kick us out.” I hook my thumb in the direction of the security guard who stands in front of the private entrance we just came from. His back is turned, giving us privacy.

“Bernie, huh?” Her voice is laced with amusement.

“Yes.” I walk tentatively beside her with my hands clasped behind my back as she makes her way to the display.

It is the magnitude, and the notoriety of the document that draws out this trepidation inside of me, and I feel it in Evangeline too as we slowly walk across the room, stopping just short of being able to peer in.

She looks around the room and I can see how this could be intimidating, but even more so are Bethany and Audrina in the same room together.

“You don’t have to be part of the foundation.”

“I want to,” she says quickly.

“I know Audrina especially can be a bit much.”

“They both care about you a lot.” We stand face to face. Her expression holds a secret I wish I was privy to.

“They were my mother’s oldest friends,” I explain. “Hopefully they were nice to you.”

“That’s why you didn’t give Audrina my number, isn’t it? You were afraid they’d call me a gold digger and chase me off?”

“Please tell me they did not do that,” I plead, embarrassed.

She shakes her head. “I’ve been called worse,” she says too easily. I have been guilty of doing just that.

She turns away from me and peers into the display case while I dutifully hold her jacket.

Her fingers skim over the glass as if applying any more pressure would break it. “Is this real?” she questions nervously.

“Do you think they would put out a fake?” I ask with amusement.

“It wouldn’t be the first time our government lied to us,” she says cheekily. “But aren’t they worried about something happening to it? Wouldn’t they want to store it away to keep it safe?”

I step forward to meet her, but instead of looking at the document, my eyes stay trained on her. “It belongs to the people, not the National Archives Museum or the government for that matter. Besides, it’s well protected.” I tilt my head toward Bernie who still has his back to us, but no doubt an ear tuned in our direction.

“The day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, it was packed up and sent to Fort Knox, along with the Constitution and the Magna Carta.”

“My own personal tour guide?” She peers back down into the glass case.

“If you’re interested…”

“I am,” she says eagerly, cutting me off.

“This isn’t the only copy,” I point out, and that piques her interest. “There were approximately two hundred of them printed, but only twenty-six are still in existence today, three of which are privately owned.” I scratch the back of my head and she looks at me with interest.

“I can’t imagine having something like that in my home, no matter how much money I had.”

“They’re called Dunlap Broadsides. Back then they were hand printed, meaning every single letter was a wooden piece that had to be handset. So, on some of the prints, there were punctuation marks missing, and even whole words. Each one is different.” I realize that I’m talking way too much because she’s staring at me, so I stop.

“What?” I prod nervously.

“This is your Emerson, isn’t it?” she contemplates.

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