Chapter 10

Sadie gasped, then she swayed and covered her mouth, ashamed of herself for responding so openly and at the same time trying

to make sense of what she was seeing. Raised scars riddled his scalp. Where hair should have been, there was none.

Otis's eyes narrowed. He stepped back quickly, putting a gulf between them. He took one more step, his fisted hands trembling

at his sides. His lack of hair and his scars had shocked her, stealing her composure, but now her heart beat rapidly because

of the fear and hurt she saw in his expression.

She stood. "Wait," she said, afraid he would leave. "I'm sorry. You startled me, that's all. I did not expect—"

"Sorry for what? For looking at me exactly how I knew you would?" He turned his back on her but did not leave. "Now you know."

She heard his words but couldn't comprehend them. Her eyes were rapidly exploring his bare head, searching for understanding.

She had seen plenty of bald men before, but he was different. The entire surface of his scalp was riddled with uneven, discolored

skin.

"Does it hurt?" she whispered, afraid she would ignite his temper or add to his anguish. Old wounds, she knew, would bleed if picked, and she had no desire to tear the scab from such painful injuries. Whatever caused such scars must have hurt not only his scalp but also his soul.

Otis ran his hand across his head, his fingers slowly moving along the rims and crests of the range of scars. An urge to reach

out and let her hands feel what he felt grew inside her. Perhaps if she could touch what she saw, she could understand.

"It doesn't hurt." He mumbled. "Not anymore."

"Is this why you left Monticello? You had an accident?"

"I didn't leave. I was sent away. Exiled." His voice was terse but not in a frightening way. "This head of mine... it changed

everything."

"Why not tell everyone what happened?" There were other injured men in town. She'd not spied another man quite like Otis,

but surely, when he explained, he'd be welcomed. Injuries were a part of life. Even she had small scars from mishaps on the

farm.

Otis turned and faced her again. She looked closer at him. It was the first time she'd seen him without the shadows of his

hat obscuring her view. He had no eyebrows, no lashes, and though it gave him an unusual look, she still found his blue eyes

fascinating. Wells of color, full of story. Frantic and enticing, unique from all others.

"It was no accident." He spoke through clenched teeth, picked up his hat, and pulled it over his head, putting himself back

into darkness. "Do you think the women you work with would want to court me? These women who talk about the elusive Taylor

man, would they want to be on my arm?"

She didn't answer.

"Look at me," he barked, "and tell me the truth."

Sadie swallowed as she searched for words. She began to speak, starting and stopping. His piercing eyes unnerved her. She shook her head, embarrassed by the truth, but it would have been a lie to say that Alta would set her vanity aside to court him.

"I knew it." He moved for the door, tension palpable in the air as he went. "I'm a beast, but I am free. And if I choose to

stay away, so be it. Tell your friends the truth if you wish. Tell them that I ought to be in the circus, a sideshow act to

be gawked at for a nickel."

"Stop," she said when he moved for the door. One word was all she could manage. He stopped, looked at her, and waited. She

focused on a knot in the floor near his feet, away from the pain she'd seen written on his face. "I've never been to the circus.

I don't know about gawking for nickels or sideshows. Perhaps I am na?ve, but why would someone pay money to stare at a man

simply because he looks different?"

"Save your duster money and go when the circus is in town next. You'll see men not so different from me. Some ailment or oddity

on display for the viewing pleasure of the masses." He glared at her, the place where eyebrows should be pulled tightly together.

"Or look at me and skip the show. Save your nickel."

"You're being cruel." She fumbled over her words. "Accusing me of desires I have not voiced. How can you say I would gawk

when you don't know me? Not really."

"I saw your face when I pulled off my hat."

"I—"

He turned, cutting her off, and left. She pinched the bridge of her nose and fought the tears that wanted to come.

"I didn't cause those scars," she said to no one. Weak in the knees, she sat and tried to still the rapid flutter in her chest. Words she wished she'd found sooner were on the tip of her tongue. If only she'd told him that it was only hair, that Alta would not want to court him but that Alta was not all women. Someone better suited to him... She shook her head, berating herself. If only she'd had the right words, she could have kept him from leaving in such a dejected way.

Then again, he seemed to be a man full of angst. Her words may have done no good. Despite his anger, the heaviness of regret

pressed against her chest.

She picked up a chess piece and mindlessly rolled it in her hand. There were chores she ought to do, but a sudden weariness

kept her from moving. Otis had shared his secret. Since their first encounter she'd puzzled over him, but not once had she

pictured what she'd seen tonight. How did it all fit together? Who was he? A beast? A man with a buried heart? Or some strange

combination of both?

"It's getting late," Leon said as he entered. He crossed the floor and sat across from her. "If you're waiting for Mildred,

I suggest you don't. When she goes to quilting night, she always says she'll be back in an hour or two, but then she gets

to talking and doesn't come home for twice as long as she says."

"I have sisters," Sadie mumbled, still thinking about Otis and what she'd seen. "I never run out of things to say to them."

She felt his eyes on her and tried to offer a convincing smile, but he saw through it. "Something has happened?"

"Otis... he showed me... he showed me his wounds."

Leon set up straighter, then nodded his head slowly. "Mildred said she hoped he would soon. For an old gal, she's got a keen

sense about things."

"Otis left angry." Her stomach twisted. He hurt because of her. "I wish I had been quicker to speak. I should have told him

that hair and scars... they matter little."

"It's probably best you didn't say that."

"Why?"

Leon picked up a pawn and knocked a king over, only to stand it back up. "He doesn't like being lied to."

"But it is just hair and skin."

"No, it's not. Not to him. It's the reason his father sent him away, it'll be the reason he will struggle to find a wife,

and it's what keeps him from feeling whole and confident. Everything changed when his hair fell out. It matters to him, even

if it shouldn't."

"But he can't be miserable forever. What sort of a life would that be?"

"Someday I hope he knows his losses matter, but they are not what matters most." He looked around the fine room. "Monticello

is a hard place for him to be happy in. I don't know how long he'll stay here."

"Couldn't he make new memories here? It's been so many years, surely he could try. He must still have some friends here."

"He did have friends here, but now there are so many years between them and so many unsaid things. He disappeared with no

goodbyes to anyone. There's a lot that would have to be explained, and Otis isn't ready for that. I don't think he has any

desire to start over here, but he can't leave yet. Not until he finds— Not until his affairs are settled. It could take time."

Sadie didn't press, but her intellect was quick and bright enough to know there was more going on than Leon was ready to be

forthright about. Like a rain barrel during a storm, this house was overflowing with questions.

"I can't make sense of him. Or any of it." She said the last part under her breath.

"Let me ask you. What do you know about him?" Leon asked, challenging her.

"I know about his scars and his... baldness." Leon's brows lifted, pressing her for more. "I know that he has a temper—I've heard him break things and cry out. Only now I realize what you meant when you said his life has been... complicated."

"What else?"

"I... I know that he plays music in a way I have never heard before. When I hear him, I know that Otis Taylor is not all

hurt and anger. He has a soul and a heart. No man can play like that who does not."

Leon clapped his hand against the table as though she had hit the nail on the head. "We are all a lot of things. But what

you heard when he played—I believe that is the real Otis, and the anger is part of what he hides behind."

***

... When I used to write stories, I was always looking for a hardship to throw at my characters. I wanted to send them on

a journey and saw pain as an efficient means to that end. The challenge and quest made a story all the more thrilling.

Real life is much more complicated. Pain does so much more than create tension between characters, and it does not always

mean a happy ending is right around the corner. It can mean years of heartache.

I am missing you all tonight. I could use the comfort of your love, and I could use your wisdom. I find myself in need of

it.

Somehow, I hope to convince a man who wishes to live in a cave to come out into the sunshine so he might discover whatever

is around the corner....