Chapter 14

Otis stood in the guest room staring at his reflection in the mirror above the washstand, his hat off and his face freshly

washed. He ran a hand over his rough scalp and then down over his smooth jaw. His hair had fallen out before he'd ever grown

enough stubble to need to shave. With no hair to style, cut, or comb, he rarely looked in the mirror, but today was different.

He'd worked so hard and felt so normal, he could almost believe that in the mirror he would find an ordinary man.

But the man in the mirror was as scarred as ever. He leaned closer, searching his face. There was a subtle difference. He

could see it in his eyes. They were the same blue, still framed by bone structure and not brows, but there was an eagerness

in them that was new.

A man could look at his own reflection for only so long before growing either vain or remorseful. He turned away from the

mirror and went to the window, where he peered through the gap in the curtain. At first he saw only nature and the road that

led to the mansion house.

And then there she was, practically dancing on her way home. Otis could think of nothing so beautiful. He left his quarters

and went to greet her.

"Sadie," he said in the foyer. "Um, how was your day?"

"For once everyone wanted to talk to me. They all wanted to know more about your return and the masquerade skate. I don't

think there has ever been so much excitement at the duster factory. What about you, did you have a good day?"

Leon peeked around the corner. "He's been smiling all day. He's giddy about something." He winked, and Otis scowled at him.

"I think Mildred needs you in the kitchen," Otis said. Sadie looked between the two of them.

"Ah yes, that's right." Leon chortled as he walked away.

"Does Mildred need me too?" Sadie asked.

Otis shook his head. He'd been waiting for her return all day, and now his mouth was dry and his tongue in knots.

"Are you feeling unwell?" she asked and took a step closer.

"No, I'm well. I have something I want to say." He shifted uneasily. This was proving far more difficult than he had imagined.

"Working here in Monticello," he said slowly, "you must miss your family. And now you live here with an odd man."

"You're not—"

"Please, allow me to finish. You work hard, and... what I am doing a terrible job of saying is that I have a gift."

"A gift? For me? You didn't need to."

His heart raced, afraid she'd reject what he so badly wanted to give to her. "I know I didn't need to. But, well, will you

accept it?"

"I don't know what it is. How can I accept?"

He held out his hand, palm up. "Come with me, please?"

Time slowed. She reached out, pulled back, and wiped her hand on her skirt before putting her hand in his. With great care,

he held it. Her hand was so small and trusting in his. And though he touched only her hand, his entire body reacted, screaming

for more.

She took her hand away, clasping it against her chest.

"Sadie," he said, unable to mask the pleading in his voice. "I want to thank you. Taylors do not apologize or offer gratitude easily. It's a strength my family lacks. We battle our tempers and our pride."

"You are your own person," she said, staring at his hand that now swung by his side, empty without hers. "You have the power

to be the sort of man you want to be."

"I want to believe you. For so long, I believed—" The intensity in his voice startled him and he abruptly stopped speaking.

He was better with letters or the piano. Saying what he felt was difficult. For as long as he could remember, he'd been guarded

and careful. He shifted under the weight of vulnerability, but he did not falter. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I nearly had you run

off my land. I'm sorry I don't remember how to have fine manners or that I growled over chess."

"It sounds to me like the Taylor man I am looking at knows how to apologize."

"I want to thank you for devising a plan on my behalf. More importantly, for looking at me, scars and all. You make me believe...

You and the Dawsons are the first and only people to see me and not look away. Even mild Mr.Crawford preferred to keep his

distance."

"You defy the family name again." She smiled up at him. "That was a well-delivered confession of gratitude."

"Thank you," he whispered as walls of insecurity came down. She couldn't have known how perfect her words were.

"You're welcome." She broke their gaze, easing the unexplainable tension. "Well, Otis Taylor, what shall we do now?"

"Close your eyes, and trust me." The giddiness came back. He was a boy on Christmas morning again. "I want to show you how

I've spent my day."

Sadie put her hand out for him to take. Like before, an unfamiliar and altogether pleasant sensation raced through him. She didn't pull back but instead let her hand rest in his. Otis didn't waste time wondering if she felt anything from his touch. Later he could mull over the possibilities.

"Close your eyes," he said as he began leading her through the house and toward the back door.

"I don't think it is customary to walk with one's eyes closed on an evening stroll," she said when he opened the door and

they stepped outside. "Is this a Monticello tradition that I have not been informed of?"

"I didn't know you wanted to go on an evening stroll," he said before playfully squeezing her hand.

"That's not what I meant."

"I was jesting."

"Of course you were."

"Mr.Crawford didn't believe in humor. I haven't tried to make anyone laugh in years."

"You've a natural gift for it. Mildred told me you were a mischievous boy. I don't know how you survived ten years with no

one to josh."

"One lonely day at time," he said as he helped her along the overgrown path toward the abandoned factory that had led her

to him. With each step his spirits soared higher and higher in anticipation. His gift would be the climax. Metal met metal

as he slid the key into the lock on the factory.

"Are your eyes closed?" he asked.

"Yes."

***

Sadie tightened her hand around his but didn't open her eyes. "Are we going in the old factory?"

"Tonight it's not a factory." He helped her over the threshold and then closed the door behind them. "Now you can look."

"Oh!" She brought her hand to her mouth and stared in wonder at the transformation. The old building with its neglected furniture

and dust covering everything was now bare and clean. It was nothing like the hovel she'd once resided in. Where once the building

had looked useless and forgotten, it now looked ready for a future. Otis picked up two pairs of skates and dangled them in

front of her.

"You wanted to skate," he said. "It was your dream, and I called it frivolous. Forgive me and skate with me?"

"Would you think me silly if I told you this was beautiful and the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me?"

"I might." He smirked in a positively roguish way that made her toes curl. "But silly and frivolous are not such bad things."

"You must have worked all day. It was nothing but cobwebs and dust before." Her shoulders fell at the mention of work. "I

don't have time to skate. I had plans to clean another guest room tonight and wash all the table linens. I don't think they've

been done in months, and—"

"Table linens can wait. I have no plans for hosting house parties. As far as everyone knows, I am returning in two weeks.

Until then, it's only you and me. Do you care about table linens?"

"No, I—"

He cut her off by putting the skates in her hand. "The truth is, this gift is selfish. I need to learn to skate. And I need

a tutor."

"I suspect Leon can skate better than I can. I've only skated once."

He snatched the skates back and held them close, pretending to study them. "I don't think these will fit him. That leaves no one but you or Mildred, and she is always telling me that she's no longer spry. So, Miss Sadie West, will you teach this boorish, lost soul to skate? Shall I get down on my knees and plead?"

"No, of course not. If you wish me to instruct you, when I know very little about skating, so be it." She ran her hand over

the dark leather strap. The skates were beautiful, the finest she'd seen. "You're so happy today and you did all this. What

happened?"

"I..." He looked away, once again the uncertain man, sinking into the shadows without even taking a step into the dark.

"You didn't run."

She made no response, hoping the silence would pull more of an explanation from him. He'd been a boat lost in a raging sea

when she'd come, and now he seemed to have regained some control of his sails.

"You saw my scars and... and yet you still made a plan to help me. No one has done anything like that for me in a very

long time."

"I knew it'd make things easier at work. It wasn't purely selfless. I'm not that perfect."

"I'm glad to hear it. I was imagining that I was the only true human in the room and you were an angel."

She laughed, delighted that he'd once again come out of the darkness. "I've never had anyone thank me for being imperfect."

"As we skate you can tell me all your many wrongs."

"Otis Taylor, the women of Monticello are in for a surprise when they meet you." She laughed, snorted, then laughed harder,

embarrassed by her guffaw. Otis joined in, laughing with her—not as boisterously, but the sound of it was as mesmerizing as

the music he played. "I never know what to expect from you."

"Years of loneliness left me a bit off my rocker. A recluse and a country lad. We will make an excellent pair."

Her head jerked in surprise.

"As we skate."

"Of course," she said. "I had not realized that two people should be equally odd and flawed in order to skate together." This

was by far the strangest conversation she had ever shared with a man. When she'd strolled with Marvin, they had talked of

farms, family, and school. Everything they'd done had been proper, predictable, and pious, nothing like this foray into the

unknown. Reason said she ought to turn back and stay where it was safe, but instead she asked, "Tell me, Mr.Taylor, are you

ready to skate?"

He looked around at the makeshift skating rink, at her, and toward the boarded-up windows. His attention turned to the skates

he was holding, and he gazed at them as though he saw them for the first time. "I think I'd better be. Leon bought these for

me today. He came home and told me everyone at the mercantile is now planning to attend the masquerade night. I think the

crowd will be bigger than I would like."

"It's all anyone talked about at the factory."

He grimaced. "Let's not talk of the gossips. That may sour my mood, and then I'll have to practice apologizing again."

"That may not be all bad. We learn things by practice."

"I'd rather practice skating than apologizing."

"Very well." They sat in chairs that had been moved to the edge of the empty floor and laced the leather straps around their

feet. Sadie looked at the corner she'd shivered in. During those long, cold nights, she had never imagined that something

so beautiful could be born out of such neglect.

Otis stood, wobbled, and sat right back down. "People do this for fun?"

"Yes, everyone." She stood, keeping her hands out to her sides. "Give it a try. I am convinced it won't be long before you under stand why Monti has held on to skating fever for so long. This town has three rinks."

"Four rinks, only no one but us knows about this one."

He stood again, slower this time. Once they were both steady, they rocked forward, slowly making their way around the room.

With no furniture to hold on to, they had their arms out to their sides for balance. Their progress was slow. At first they

weren't really skating but walking on their wheeled shoes. There was nothing graceful about their form, but their effort was

commendable.

On her second lap around the large floor, Sadie grew more confident. She smiled, proud of her progress. With now steadier

legs, she tried to go faster, only to flail, swaying back and then forward, her arms pumping as she fought to stay upright.

"Are you—"

"Ahh!" She interrupted him with a squeal as she braced herself for her pending collision with the floor. She was going down,

and then she wasn't. His arms came around her, steadying her.

Up snapped her head. She was in his arms, her face near his. Her heart did a somersault in her chest. Otis's hat lay on the

ground, a casualty of his heroism, allowing her to see his face fully. The cut of his jaw, the line of his nose, and the blue

of his eyes—all he needed was a white horse. His hands remained at her waist even after her legs regained their balance.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a husky voice.

"Yes." She swallowed.

"You do realize that the student has just steadied the teacher."

She nodded and forced herself backward, putting distance between them. Out of his arms, she was free to catch her breath.

"Thank you for catching me."

He bent for his hat, but she was quick and put her hand on his arm. "Leave it. You'll skate better not worrying about it being

on."

"But—"

"But what? It won't help you and I am your teacher—you told me so yourself. You should take my advice."

He looked between the hat and her several times before nodding. With an air of reservation, he said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Rule one," she proclaimed with a laugh, doing her best to look only at his eyes despite wanting to look at the whole of him.

"You must make sure that when you lose your balance, you are near either the wall or a person you wish to get to know better."

"Ah, so that is why you nearly stumbled. You were teaching by example. Or am I someone you want to know better?"

She pushed forward, skating at a slow pace in front of him. "I find you rather intriguing," she said, looking straight ahead.

"But as your teacher, I must continue your lesson."

"What is rule two?" He approached on her right. The wooden floor was clear of furniture and the dust had been swept away,

but years of use left it uneven and rough. His skate hit the raised edge of a floorboard, warped from time and moisture. His

hands went up, his legs forward, and down he went.

Sadie reached for him, trying to grab his arm and slow his momentum as he had done for her, but she missed and lost her own

balance. To the floor she went, hard on her backside. They lay side by side on their backs, staring up at the ceiling and

rubbing at their aches.

"Were you setting an example for me then too?" he asked, rolling toward her.

"Rule two: don't try to help someone if you are not steady." She groaned when she pushed to sitting. "I suppose this is why

the newspaper is riddled with reports of broken arms and twisted ankles."

"If I don't want my name in the paper, I need to stay upright. Is that what you are saying?"

"You may end up with your name in the paper whether you fall or not." She ran her hand along the wooden floor. "Rule three: look out for uneven floorboards."

"To think this is what people do for entertainment." He sat up beside her and absently rolled his foot back and forth, his

wheel clicking as it went over a bump.

Sadie shook her skirt out, ensuring that her ankles were covered. She was all too aware that everything about their evening

teetered near scandalous. The entirety of their acquaintance was something many would frown upon. "If I were to say that I

am having fun, would you think my life very monotonous and dull?"

"No, it's perfectly normal to enjoy colliding with a wooden floor and bruising one's rump. But what do I know about normal?"

Sadie giggled. "I'm not sure I know much more than you. I'm the country girl, the one other women love to mock. My clothes

aren't fashionable, and my hair isn't pinned up the same way as theirs."

He put the palms of his hands on the floor behind him and leaned back. "What is normal?" His tone grew more serious. "Why

can't it be normal to be varied and different? In a world full of colors and shapes and backgrounds, who decided we were all

supposed to be the same?"

"It does seem unrealistic, doesn't it?" She reached for the latches of her skates and began undoing them.

"You're done? You only gave me three rules."

"Mildred will be expecting my help inside. I may have skipped the linens, but I can't leave her with everything." She unlatched her second skate and stood. "Ten hours sorting feathers doesn't sound like hard work, but it is. I've got to get things done so I can sleep. But..." She looked around the factory, once again recognizing the amount of work it must have taken to clean the building, and sighed. "This was a truly kind gift. The nicest a man has ever given me."

He frowned and muttered, "How often do you receive gifts from men?"

"All the time," she quipped, unable to keep a lively smirk from her face.

"I didn't realize." He smiled, but she sensed something off in his tone. He couldn't possibly believe that she had received

gifts in abundance, could he? Head down, he worked the latches of his own skates. "I had Leon send word to Mr.Hoag today

asking if you could be spared there so you could be here to help me. Well, I didn't say me. The note said helping with extra

work around the mansion."

A wave of fear swept over her. "You did?"

"He sent word back saying he looked forward to being reacquainted with me when I returned and that he understood the need

for extra help."

"But I never agreed to this." Her family needed her income. The doctor's bill could not be put aside, no matter how badly

she wished to skate, play chess, and enjoy Otis Taylor's company. Fury, brought on by fear, raged through her. "I can't. And

you shouldn't have."

The corners of Otis's mouth turned down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep."

"I don't care whether you meant to or not. You might be my employer, but you don't get to control my life."

"Sadie, please. I'm sorry. I should have asked you before I asked Mr.Hoag. I did a lot of impulsive things today."

"My father, my family." Her voice cracked. "They depend on me."

He ran a hand across his bald head. "I wouldn't want you to neglect your family. If you work for me, you'll be paid for your time. I only thought that, with the masquerade coming up and so much of the house left to clean, and with your long days there, it would help everyone. I was wrong. Will you forgive me?"

"I'm still mad," she said like she would have if she'd been fighting with one of her sisters. "But I forgive you. You do realize

you have hired the very worst skating instructor in Monticello."

"That may be. What can I say, I'm a very poor businessman. Will you take the job?"

"You are exposing all your flaws. Trouble apologizing, terrible skater, and horrible businessman. Skating does seem to be

the ideal way to get to know someone."

He fiddled absently with his skate. "You missed one of my flaws. You failed to mention that I am scarred and entirely without

hair."

"I don't see that as a flaw. It's simply a different kind of normal." She hugged her skates to her chest. "I forgive you for

making assumptions, and I accept your offer to work at the mansion during the days. I'll do all I can to make you the finest

skater that ever rolled through Iowa."

***

... I received the most thoughtful gift, and for a moment I had no worries at all. This house is not only mysterious, it

is magical....