Chapter 12

Sadie did not see Otis when she stepped into the kitchen after dusting the library. She did not see him after supper, and

though she felt a growing urge to offer her apology, she was grateful she did not encounter him while the Dawsons were present.

Her evenings were often passed in the company of the older couple, who had quickly become her dear friends. They talked endlessly

as they worked, unless Mildred fell asleep, which was a habit that in mere days already made Sadie smile. At first the three

were careful, conversing only about subjects they were sure to agree on, but each night they grew bolder. Sadie opened up,

expressing her longing for home and how difficult the circumstances around her move to the city had been. And they told her

about their life in the mansion, painting a picture of Otis as a mischievous, delightful boy whom they had loved as though

he were their own.

"Tell me," Mildred said from her old rocker in the back parlor, darning a pair of socks, "do you have a beau?"

Leon, who sat near the fire reading a book, lowered it, and Sadie felt certain he was more intrigued by the question than

the adventure story in his lap.

"Not exactly." Heat burned her cheeks as she told them about Marvin and her hopes for the two of them when he returned. "He's everything I've always wanted. He's very hardworking, and he's handsome. He goes to church every Sunday. I believe we could have a very happy future together. I've simply got to be patient."

"I went away to save money," Leon said as he rose from his place near the fire. He rubbed his back as though he could remember

the hard work from years ago. "I wrote whenever I could and practically begged Mildred to wait for me."

"He did." Mildred looked at Leon with dreamy eyes. "He wrote the most romantic letters. I was a widow and he'd never married.

We were older than most when we began our courtship, but don't let age fool you. A woman in her thirties has a heart that

beats as wildly as a young woman's."

"I knew it wasn't every day you find a woman like Mildred," Leon said with a chuckle. "I pored over those letters. The men

I worked beside laughed at my words, but I didn't care. They were for Mildred, not them."

"How romantic," Sadie said, aching anew for a promise from Marvin. "My parents met as children. He was throwing a snowball

at his friend, who must have seen it coming. The friend ducked and the snowball hit my mother instead."

"A snowball?" It was Mildred who chuckled this time. "You never know what will prove a romantic gesture."

"They laugh about it often. They've been inseparable since." She couldn't keep the longing from her voice. "Someday..."

Her voice trailed off.

"How often do you write to Marvin?" Mildred asked.

"I always write back the very day I get a letter from him. He's so busy with his studies that he is often slower to respond. Some times there are months between letters. He's determined to finish early and with high marks."

"Seems to me he isn't a beau at all." Mildred clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Two years is a long time to wait for a man

who only writes on occasion."

"School is so important to him. I've tried to respect that." She ran her finger around the button on her sleeve. "He's always

had a plan for his life. An order he was going to do everything in, that's all."

"Perhaps." Mildred did not seem convinced. "Or perhaps, he's not the man you've built him up to be. Even a timid man finds

his voice when he's in love. A man in love will put his other plans aside if love requires it."

"When will he be back?" Leon asked. "If he doesn't come see you the moment he returns, we'll know he's not the man for you."

Sadie shifted uneasily in her seat. "I believe he is due to return home very soon. I'm not aware of the exact date. He hasn't

mentioned it in his letters."

"We will all be watching for him." Leon leaned forward as though he were expecting him that very moment. "When he walks in

he will see none but you, and we'll all know what he's feeling. A man who has been missing his love for two years shouldn't

be able to keep his affections to himself. I expect the truth will be written all across his face."

"You are quite the tease. I don't expect a suitor to come walking through that door—"

"Excuse me," Otis said as he stomped into the room, interrupting their conversation and leaving them all with their jaws agape.

"Oh," Sadie said on a gasp, dropping the embroidery that had been sitting in her lap. He bent to get it for her at the same

moment she leaned forward. Their heads collided, or rather, her head collided with his hat.

"I'm sorry," he said, quickly handing her what she'd dropped. His hand brushed hers, and the touch startled her. She straightened, trying to make sense of the heat that seared her veins. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the embroidery. The awareness of him was more startling than his unexpected arrival had been. Perhaps it was her guilt for not apologizing that made her stomach flutter. "I came to find you because a woman is at the door. She claims to be your friend. She knocked incessantly despite my trying to ignore her."

"My friend?"

"I spoke to her through the door—she believed me to be Leon. I couldn't understand what she said her name was, and I wasn't

interested enough to ask her to repeat herself."

"Ha!" Leon chortled. "You're a young buck. She must not be very bright if she thought your voice sounded as old and wise as

mine."

"Bright or not, she is at the door waiting for Sadie."

Sadie stood, rubbed her hands on her skirt, and looked at the others. "I can only guess it's a woman from the factory." There

was so much unsaid between them, but even so, the blue of his eyes lured her closer. "If it is who I think, she has her heart

set on you."

"You told her I had returned?"

"No. But they suspect you will soon. She's rather sly. Most likely she's come to walk the halls of the house she hopes to

call her own."

"You ought to go and meet her," Leon said with a laugh. "It'd be entertaining for the rest of us."

"No." Otis scowled. "Seeing the shock on people's faces is not funny."

The room fell silent. Her wish to apologize without an audience was not to be. "I'm sorry." She stepped closer and cocked her head, looking at him face-to-face despite his wide brim. "I was surprised, and I am sorry it showed. I haven't mastered the art of masking my feelings. But I am looking at you now, and if you will look back, you will see that I do not have contempt or disgust on my face."

Believe me , she silently pled. Please.

"Your guest is waiting." He looked at his feet, bowed, and then backed from the room, urging Wolf to follow.

Leon took her arm. "Come, let's go and say hello to your friend. Mildred and I will bring you tea to sip while you visit.

The water is already hot—it'll take only a minute."

"I won't have her stay." Sadie shook her head. "Otis doesn't want anyone here."

"Nonsense. This is a welcoming home," Mildred said. "Don't worry over Otis. He'll come around. More rumors will start if we

are unhospitable than if we are welcoming."

"It's still not right."

"You're a good woman to think of him. Go on though."

"Very well—I'll say hello," Sadie said, seeing no way around confronting her visitor. Moments later, she opened the door to

find Alta standing with her hands on her hips and a look of annoyance on her face. "What took you so long? I want to see the

house!" She clapped her hands together, a greedy glint in her eyes. "I've always wondered what the inside of the mansion looked

like."

"I'm working, but the Dawsons have agreed to our sitting on the veranda for a moment. That will have to do. I am not free

to take you through the house uninvited."

"I talk to you every day. I didn't sneak out to socialize with you." Her shoulders drooped and her lips dipped into a pout,

but she sat when Sadie motioned toward the seats. "You said you would help me."

"I said I would help you if I was able, but I am an employee of this house. I could lose my job. I'm sorry you snuck out for nothing."

She leaned back on her chair and sighed. "Everyone is talking, wondering when he'll come back."

They sat in uneasy silence, waiting for Leon to bring tea so they could pretend to be friends for a moment before Sadie would

shoo Alta off the porch and rid the household of her for the night. Their cordial pretense was short-lived. Alta's frown turned

into a devilish look. She stood quickly, startling Sadie.

"I'll go in myself," Alta said, taking a giant step toward the door. "The Dawsons won't see me—I'll be quiet. You go distract

them, and I'll take a quick look inside."

Sadie grabbed her arm with a firm grip, the way she would have grabbed Old Red, her rooster back home, if he got too feisty.

Gone was the docile woman she'd become at the factory. She had to stop Alta and protect Otis's secret. "If Otis returned,

and he ever found out you came into his house uninvited, what would he think of you?"

"Would you tell him?" Alta challenged her.

"It might slip out." Sadie didn't back down. "I can't promise you it wouldn't."

Alta glowered and pulled her arm away from Sadie. "Fine. But you will tell me when he returns?"

"I..." She wrestled with her conscience. "He's a Taylor. When he is ready, he will make a big show of his return."

"You know something, don't you?" Alta pressed. "Have the Dawsons heard from him?"

Sadie said nothing.

"They have! He is returning soon. A grand return. He's planning it, isn't he?" She clapped her hands together, her frustration

replaced by excitement. "You will tell me more, won't you?"

"If I am told his plans for resurfacing, then I will tell you. But promise you won't spread rumors about him—I don't want to spoil his surprise. Besides, don't you think a grand reentry to the town is far more... romantic than letting anyone who wants stop by? We wouldn't want rumors ruining such an event." Her mouth went dry. What had come over her to say such things? If she could have sunk into the ground and been swallowed up in one giant gulp, she would have gladly embraced her end.

"I will keep his secret." Alta giggled. "I'd better go. I didn't tell anyone I was coming. I just got so tired of waiting."

She grabbed Sadie's hands. For a moment it felt like they truly were friends. "You've given me hope. I'll see you tomorrow

and we can talk all about his return."

She waved as she pranced away from the mansion.

Confused by Alta's shiftable ways, Sadie remained on the veranda. She'd never had a friend like Alta, one minute kind and another forceful, making it impossible to feel at ease in her presence. More shocking than

Alta's changeable behavior was knowing she'd just contributed to what was likely going to be the biggest piece of gossip Monticello

had heard in years. There was no chance Alta would truly keep this "secret," a truth that left Sadie's heart thumping.

"Tea?" Leon asked as he walked through the front door and held out a warm cup to her.

"Did you hear her?"

"I did. And I heard you too." He offered the cup again. She accepted it this time and took a sip.

"He doesn't want anyone to know he's here. What have I done?"

"You kept her at bay today, and the rest will sort itself out. But you'd best tell Otis."

"I suppose it's inevitable."

"Come along then."

She stalled by taking one more sip of her tea before leaving it on the table and following Leon through the house, grateful

for the shield of protection his stooped back provided. The closer they got to the music room, the clearer she could hear

the melody ringing out from the piano. They stood outside the door, listening. Notes—sweet, soft, and beautiful—filled the

air. She closed her eyes and let the music stir her soul. She'd heard Otis play as she worked before, but she had never been

this close to the source of the music. Tonight, with her hands free of labor and fewer walls muffling the sound, the beauty

of it consumed her.

"It's magnificent," she whispered, pushing the door open and silently walking into the room so she could watch his hands as

they moved across the keys. As though she had no control over her movements, she drew closer to him. Soon she stood just behind

him, nearer than she'd ever dared to go, and became his audience. The music continued, filling the room, making her heart

rise and fall with each phrase. Her troubles were all forgotten, lost to the music.

But then his hands stopped—the song ended. The brightness vanquished like a smothered fire. Without turning he said, "You

didn't knock."

"I..." She searched for words while at the same time bracing herself, unsure what he would say next.

"I don't play for audiences."

"You should." She looked behind her for Leon, but he was gone. There was no shield to hide behind. "You compose beautifully.

Everyone should hear the music from the creator himself."

"I write it knowing others will play for the crowds."

"What would you say if I asked you to play me another?" The request was bold, but she longed for more. "Please."

***

Otis had sensed her enter the music room. She'd been quiet but not quiet enough. He'd almost stopped but instead had let his

emotions travel through him and come out in the music. And now she wanted more. Old fears resurfaced, making him vulnerable.

He looked down at his hands resting on the keys. She'd heard him already. Could he play one more?

When he played, he felt almost normal. He could hide behind the notes that spoke his heart better than his words ever had

and pretend a little longer.

He closed his eyes and traveled back in time to another place and season of life. He let the music come. A song composed during

a dark season insisted on filling the room. Melancholic, sweet, raw music saturated the air, and his own heart ached as he

played, reliving years of loneliness and distress. He held nothing back—there were no placid notes, and every time his fingers

connected with the keys, a feeling floated into the air for his audience of one to catch and decipher at her will.

She remained near him, close enough that he could feel her presence. The loneliness that had driven him to write this song

weakened as the song went on and she remained in the room. When at last his fingers stilled, silence followed.

He waited.

"You are so much more than your scars and what happened within these walls," she whispered, her voice sounding breathless.

"You have heart."

"That tune was not one of heart," he said, turning on the piano bench and facing her. "It's a sad song."

"One cannot understand sorrow if one has no heart. It was achingly beautiful. You are gifted." She paused, her eyes on his hands.

"My solace has been music—that and the remnant of faith my mother gave me." He cleared his throat. "Tell me, why have you

come to the music room? Has your guest left?"

"She's gone... but I have to confess something. Though I would rather not. I would much rather beg you to play another

song and then close my eyes and pretend nothing else exists."

He swallowed. If only it could be so. Many times he'd tried to drift away with the music, but it never worked. Reality was

always there waiting to greet him the moment the last note dissipated.

"She wanted to come inside." Sadie's voice came in unsteady waves. "I kept her from it but only by leading her to believe

that you intend to return to town and society."

"What?"

"I didn't tell her when." She recounted the conversation, nearing tears as she did so. "I never meant to cause a problem.

It just happened."

"You told her it could be months away." He left the piano and paced the room. "I could be gone by then. If I could just..."

He had to find Elisabeth, and he had to sell the house and settle all of Reginald's debts. His fingers, no longer acting the

part of talented musician, were now tense and fisted at his sides. All he wanted was a quiet life, and here he was fighting

battles on every front.

Sadie was quiet. "I've angered you. I'm sorry. Is there any way I can convince you to call a truce so I can help?"

"Are we battling?"

"I don't know, but I am sorry."

He studied her but found nothing insincere in her features. "On what terms?"

"Excuse me?"

"You want a truce. What does that mean exactly?" His jaw flexed. He sounded idiotic. "Forget it."

"I would rather not." She walked around to the front of the piano and leaned her elbows on it. "I suppose a truce would mean...

it would mean that I ask your forgiveness—"

"You've done nothing wrong. Other than squatting. But I've forgiven you for that and whatever else you feel guilty about."

"You made that much easier than I expected." When she smiled at him from across the piano, a desire to keep the smile on her

face took root in his heart. "And now that you've forgiven me for gasping when I saw your scars and for inadvertently announcing

to a woman prone to gossip your plans to return, we start over. But this time we begin as friends. Of course, I am still your

employee, but you would trust me like you do Leon and Mildred—"

"I've known them for years."

"True." She tapped her fingers on the smooth piano top. "You do not have to care for me as you care for them."

"You are... different from them." He floundered, still thinking about the way her lips curved up so beautifully. "Very

different." He hadn't meant for the words to come out that way, all airy and sincere. They were bantering, nothing more. "I

can do a truce. As long as you don't bring any other designing women into this house."

"I did not bring her. You don't know what it's like for me."

"For you! Pity, what could be so hard about being you?"

The smile vanished, their cordial friendship and truce already hanging by a thread. "My father... you do remember that he is the reason I work day and night? He's made no progress. He's still bedridden. And the bank hounds us every week about payments. I send them all my earnings, and it's barely enough. If anything goes wrong, we will lose everything."

He winced. What a buffoon he was. How cold to forget her familial woes?

"And now I work with other women who all talk about the Taylor bachelor and how they long for his return, and I do what I

can to avoid the conversations because I have always strived to be honest. But someday they'll corner me, and I'm afraid I'll

say the wrong thing."

"Tell them to jump into the creek and leave you be."

"I hadn't thought of that." There it was, that smile again. When it returned, some of the tension left the room. "For tonight,

I will be grateful that you have forgiven me."

"That is all you plan to do?"

"No, I also plan to spend the night thinking of ways to appease Alta. But that can wait. I've more important matters to address

first."

"You do?"

"Ever so much more important. I plan to beg my new ally for another song."

"I'm told that friends oblige each other." He sat, and when he searched for the right notes to play, a hopeful melody jumped

from his heart to the keys.

***

... I have heard the most beautiful music. In fact, beautiful doesn't seem adequate to describe it. There are no words for how it captured my soul....