Chapter 13

Two weeks passed. No, passed was not the right word. They didn't march by like the days at the Crawfords'. Those days hidden away in the woods had been

monotonous and dull. They'd been safe but lifeless—nothing like his days now.

He wrote letters to every orphanage in Iowa during the day while Sadie worked at the duster factory. He also made progress

on his brother's finances, puzzling over the mess of debts, business transactions, and angry letters from men he didn't know

about circumstances he did not know how to verify.

Consuming above all else was the pull he felt to Sadie. The first night after he'd played for her, he found himself wandering

the halls. Hearing the Dawsons and Sadie laughing as they sorted through items in an old gardener's office, he sheepishly

attempted to join them.

"I was wondering if there was..." he said, looking around the small room, "a watering pail."

Leon reached for the tin pail that hung on a hook near the door only inches from where Otis stood. "Are you planning on doing

some gardening?"

"There's a plant just outside the back door that looks parched," he said as he took the pail. With water pail in hand, he grappled for another excuse to linger.

Mildred called his bluff, likely due to the fact he'd never been particularly interested in gardening. She winked and said,

"Put the pail down. You can water later. You might not even need to—the sky looks ready to burst. Why don't you stay awhile?"

"I suppose I could." At first he sat stiff and tense, but as the night wore on, he relaxed a little more and then a little

more. His eyes often found their way to Sadie. He watched her hands as she talked. They moved more when she was excited. He

watched her mouth and the way her lips showed a glimpse of her white teeth when she smiled. He hung on her words. To say he

was intrigued by her was an understatement.

After that first night, Mildred began inviting him to join them. At first he pretended to go reluctantly, but the ruse was

short-lived and soon he needed no cajoling.

The fifth night, he looked at his idle hands and put himself to work, helping as they sorted through a guest bedroom together.

Mildred smiled at the work they'd done before sending him and Sadie away, telling them that since they worked so hard, they

ought to go and enjoy the evening.

"Wolf wants to go out..." Otis said as he tugged uneasily at his vest. "And he likes your company."

"I like his too," Sadie said. "If we stay behind the house, no one will see you."

The area behind the house and creek bed was small but secluded. The sun was low, giving everything a golden haze and magical feel. His chest felt tight the entire walk, in the most intoxicatingly full way. In the evening sun the subtle red in Sadie's hair stood out, and her smile seemed twice as bright. When she threw sticks to Wolf and laughed, he had to press a hand to his chest, afraid it would burst. He'd known that life in the woods had been lacking, but until this moment he'd been unsure what exactly he was missing. Now he knew. He'd missed the joy of sharing his life with someone, even if that someone was but a friend.

No, these days had been nothing like the days of his past. Sadie, true to her word, looked at him without gasping, staring,

or any sort of gawking. There was a kindness in her gaze that unsettled him, but not because it contained malice. Her presence

was a gentle nudge that slowly led him back to life, back to smiling, and back to hope. He could even feel the sprouting seed

of belief that perhaps his future did not have to be as dark as his past. Conversing became easier, and the dark memories—though

still present—grew quieter, muffled by these new moments. He was cautious and careful, keeping his unfamiliar feelings to

himself, afraid that it could all fade away in an instant. It could all collapse. He feared it would, but for two weeks, he'd

relished the taste of belonging and purpose he'd found.

***

"I've got it," Sadie declared when she entered the kitchen bright and early one morning, a cheeky grin spread across her face.

She'd been smiling a lot lately. Living in the mansion had proved more exciting than she could have imagined. "He'll hate

it, but it'll work. I'm sure it will!"

"Tell me what it is you're smiling so impishly about?" Leon's butter knife froze above his biscuit. "Go on."

"Remember when Alta stopped by and, well, you heard me tell her that Otis planned to return to Monticello in a grand way?

I have since been wondering how to bring that about."

Humor lit up the old man's face. "And?"

"As you know, Otis isn't eager to go out. But he'll never like it here or realize that there are people who will not care

about his appearance if he insists on staying inside this fancy, dark prison. He acts as though the entire town of Monticello

is guilty and has played a hand in his injuries. Which is unfair, but understandable. My plan—I hope—will help him realize

that he is wrong."

"Lately he's seemed happier, but I'm not sure he'll go out." Mildred handed her a plate of breakfast.

"Last night I couldn't sleep." She sat at the table, her body present in the room but her mind filled with Otis. She'd never

known anyone like him—so talented, so complex. "I kept thinking about his injuries and about his bad memories. And then I

remembered what my mama once said. She was trying to convince my younger sister Flora to go to a recitation at school. Flora

was terrified. Mama told her that it would only get harder if she waited, but Flora still wouldn't go, and her fears grew

and grew. It got so bad that if she heard us practicing our own recitations, she would burst into tears."

"What a dear," Mildred said as she sat beside Leon. "What did your mama say?"

"She said that sometimes we only have to go to the edge of our fear and that Flora should be proud if she could take a step

toward being braver. So Mama took Flora to school and had her recite for her teacher alone. She did splendidly and has gotten

braver since, though she still prefers avoiding crowds."

"The world needs both the timid and the bold," Leon said.

"Yes." Sadie smiled at Leon. How right he was. "She's walked to the edge of fear many times, an inch or two farther each time,

and now, though she may not like it, she can speak in front of others."

Mildred nodded, the tight bun at the nape of her neck bobbing along with the movement. "And how do you intend to bring Otis to the edge of his fear?"

She wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin and replaced it in her lap. "Sylvia asked me not long ago if I would go

to the masquerade night at Dr.Henry's Big Rink. She didn't exactly ask me, but she did say that if I was nice to Alta I could

go with them." Sadie grunted. "I had no interest. Well, I do think skating would be fun. It's something I did once with my

father."

She rocked slowly in place. Mentioning her father always brought her worries to the surface. Only the day before, Peter had

delivered a letter bearing news that her father was not improving. She prayed for him every night and sent money as quickly

as she could, but it wasn't quick enough to keep up with the doctor bills and money owed to the bank. The situation was ever

pressing, but worse was thinking of her father's suffering.

"How is your father?" Mildred asked.

"My sister Molly said she doesn't think he is healing properly." Sadie looked at her plate.

"You ought to go and see him," Leon said.

"I would, but I can't miss any work. He's not able to farm, but I don't think his life is in jeopardy." She fiddled with her

fork. "Every day I worry, and then I try not to worry because I know my pa would hate knowing that his injury was keeping

me from enjoying the good around me."

Leon and Mildred shared a worried look that Sadie chose not to acknowledge. She allowed herself to think of her father and her family's woes only on occasion. It took effort, but she tried to keep her focus on sending money and writing letters that would make her sisters smile and uplift their spirits. And since moving into the mansion house, she'd found herself heavily consumed with thoughts of Otis.

"I didn't mean to bring up your worries." Mildred slid into the seat beside Sadie and took her hand. "You walked in so happy

this morning. Tell us about your idea."

"It might sound silly." She tucked her family's troubles away safely in her heart. "I used to read books and write stories.

I still do—it's something I love. In them there were often fancy balls, sometimes masquerades. I wrote a scene in a book once

where a couple danced together not knowing whose arms they were in because they were both in costume. And then I remembered

Sylvia telling me about a masquerade skate coming up. It would be the perfect place for Otis to walk to the edge of fear.

He could see his old friends and experience the excitement around his return without having to show his whole face. When he

is ready, he can take off his mask."

Leon startled her by clapping his hands. "Well done. It would give him a chance to reconnect while he settles other matters."

With her eyes on her plate, Sadie asked, "What other matters does he have to deal with? I know it's not my place, but..."

"It's nothing to trouble yourself over." Leon pushed away from the table and stood. "Convince him to skate with you first

and then—"

"He wouldn't be skating with me. I don't... I couldn't." Her pulse quickened. She shoved a large bite of biscuit in her mouth, then struggled to swallow. The thought of skating beside Otis unnerved her. They'd shared their evenings together, growing bolder and more comfortable, but he was still Otis Taylor, owner of the mansion, musical genius; and she was simply his employee. To be beside him, on his arm as they skated—a prickle of desire raced up her spine. The delightful feeling only further convinced her that skating with Otis was imprudent. Her loyalty lay elsewhere. These strange flutterings were simply the by-product of all the upheaval in her life.

"What day is the masquerade skate?" Mildred asked.

"I looked at the newspaper before coming to breakfast and there is one in two weeks. I don't know if he'll go, but I hope

so. It seems a shame for him to leave without ever giving the people here a chance." Her mouth was dry and her throat tight.

It was difficult to picture Monti without Otis or Wolf. The Taylor mansion could hardly be the Taylor mansion without a Taylor

in it. For reasons she could not explain, she wanted Otis to stay.

"You are clever." Leon brushed crumbs from his front. "I best get to work, and you should hurry and find Otis before you head

out for the day."

"I was hoping you would suggest it to him." Sadie paused, still avoiding eye contact. "He listens to you."

"I think he'll be more open to the idea if it comes from you. But I do want to hear about his reaction." Leon chuckled as

he left the women alone.

"And you? Will you ask him?" Sadie asked Mildred.

Mildred put a hand on her heart. "I'm too old for such scheming. Leave your plate and go talk to Otis."

Sadie stalled.

"Run along." Mildred hurried her from the room, a smirk on her motherly face.

***

"Excuse me."

Otis turned at the sound of Sadie's voice. How alarming it was that every day his reaction to her presence grew stronger. The sound of her tread on the stairs, the look in her eyes when he played his music, the pitch of her laugh—without his permission, he'd become attached to it all.

"Yes," he squeaked out, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes?"

Sadie's expression was tentative and... hopeful? She was about to ask him something, he was sure of it. "Did you need something?"

"I need a great many things. Most are out of your control, but..." She crept directly in front of him, pulled her lips

into a line, and then said, "Mr.Rochester can be terribly moody."

"Are you implying that I—"

She laughed. "I was only trying to get a look at you to make sure you were in good spirits."

"I find myself in exceptionally good spirits, but you have a twinkle in your eye that has me worried."

"My mama says that she can see mischief in my eyes. I guess she's right."

"Are you wanting to raid the kitchen? Jump in the creek? Well, you've done that already."

She swatted his arm. "Nothing like that, and I thought I told you to forget about my creek incident."

"You did tell me that, but no matter how hard I try I can still see the flash of white I saw running in front of the mansion.

I thought a ghost had taken over while I was away."

"Where has the quiet, aloof man I first met gone?" She smiled.

He didn't answer right away. He paused, appreciating what she'd said. Her presence was changing him. Slowly breaking him from

the bonds that had held him so tightly for such a long time.

"I suppose," he said at last, "that a person is always changing. This house and its memories make me want to run and hide, but you and the Dawsons, you're all so loud that there are times I can't hear the past at all."

"Loud." She pulled her mouth to one side. "A strange compliment, but thank you."

Fearing he'd said too much and made his feelings too visible, he shrugged. "Do you need something?"

"I have an idea. Don't say no right away." She spoke quickly, talking of skating rinks and masquerades, giving him no time

to cut in and object. Twice she mentioned fear and the edge of it, and then she begged him to give living in Monti a chance.

"You could become reacquainted with the town. You could find that it is a more welcoming place than you remember. You might

even like it, and then you wouldn't have to go."

His head shot up. "You don't think I should leave?"

"I think you should consider staying before you run off. You could try it out here first."

What she wanted was not an easy thing to give. He opened his mouth, ready to tell her no, but then he thought of how he'd

been driven away, how he'd never said goodbye to Dan or Andrew or seen his brother again. He didn't want to face Monti, but

he didn't want to run either. If he left, he wanted it to be because he chose to go, not because he cowered away.

"Otis," she said. "Aren't you curious?"

Was he? Yes, of course he was. For years he'd gone to sleep dreaming of a homecoming. With Elisabeth still out there, and

no word from the orphanages, he would not be leaving Monticello anytime soon. And if he were reading her expression right,

Sadie was not in a hurry to see him go. But there was a problem. "I don't skate."

"You could. Or just go and sit and watch. I'm sure all the women would be eager to sit beside you. Although, you would have to... you would, well, you would need to be on your best behavior." She covered her mouth, but he saw the sides of her lips creep up. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you, not really."

"I'm not sure if I believe you. Tell me, what is so funny?"

"I was just imagining Alta and what she would do if you were to growl at her like you did me the last time we played chess."

"You cheated. Of course I growled."

"I didn't cheat. I changed my mind about where my queen should be."

"Even I know that is called cheating."

"Innocent cheating."

"No such thing."

She held up her hands in a posture of surrender. "I concede—I cheated. But I apologized and will not rearrange the board next

time. That doesn't change the fact that at the masquerade you should remain composed."

"Composed? I haven't said I am going."

"But you are thinking about it, I can tell. And it is a good plan. It's two weeks from now, so there would be time to polish your manners and learn to skate. You could roll down

the hall." She folded her arms with exaggerated impatience. "I only hope that you decide quickly. I have to go to work—there

are feathers to be sorted. If you say yes, it'll make things easier at the factory. Please."

As quick as he could, he thought through the benefits and risks. They were near equal. But what his mind grasped onto was

the fact that she'd made this plan to benefit him. That was a gift, and he'd received so few. He hated the idea of rejecting

it.

When he remained standing, unmoving, unspeaking, she offered him a half smile. "I best be going."

He rapped the top of the piano, pushed past the dam in his throat, and said, "I might go."

He almost gagged on the words. Roller-skating. Masquerades. Crowds. As soon as the words were out, he wished he could pull them back, but the barricade was down. He'd spoken.

"You might go? Is it impossible for you to fully commit?"

"Even saying I might came at a cost. I think I'll be sick all day." He put a hand on his tight throat and let out a dramatic

groan. "Go to work, I don't want to keep you. Hopefully, I'll be recovered when you return."

She grinned as she moved to leave. "I'm going to tell them you're coming!"

With her hand on the doorframe, she turned back, challenging him. It was a simple look, but one he wished he could capture,

hold on to, and revisit whenever he felt alone.

"If you must," he muttered.

She squealed, then pranced away.

"But I'm not taking the mask off," he said to her back. She waved a hand in the air, and he could hear laughter.

What had he done?

He went to the place she'd stood, touching the doorframe where her hand had been. The plan she'd presented made him uneasy,

but Sadie West—the girl who had seen his scars, looked him in the eyes, and even witnessed his awkward ways—believed it might

work. She cared. Perhaps only a little, but she cared.

"Leon!" he shouted as he walked down the hall, driven by a desire to give her something in return. A gesture of thanks, of

armistice.