Chapter 15

Otis propped his legs on his desk and leaned back in his chair. He flipped the key he'd found in Reginald's room back and

forth, still unsure what it belonged to. Wolf lay near him, head resting on his paws.

"Otis," Leon said as he stepped into the study with a stack of letters in his hand. "Sorry to interrupt. I went to the post

office while I was out but forgot to give you the mail."

"I didn't have time to read it until now anyway."

"You've been busy." The wrinkles around Leon's eyes lifted. "It's quite a feat you accomplished getting that factory cleaned

up so well."

Otis took the stack of letters and tossed them on the desk. Since returning home, the post had contained mainly letters from

businessmen trying to reach him in hopes that he would throw some of the Taylor money into their schemes. Tonight thoughts

of Elisabeth and of Sadie made business proposals and other such nonsense seem trite.

"You ought to read them," Leon said. "It's easier to keep the pile down if you tackle it daily."

Otis groaned, picked the letters back up, and thumbed through them. "How many letters do you think Mrs. James Bowers has mailed to me?"

"She's mailed them consistently since your brother's passing." Leon sat across the desk from him, watching as Otis casually

perused the mail. "She has a daughter of marriageable age. It's no secret she wants to marry her off to a wealthy bachelor."

"I'll burn this one." He chuckled, setting it aside. "I can't imagine that a woman who is petitioning a man she has never

met, based solely on what he owns, is a woman worth meeting."

"Very idealistic of you," Leon said nonchalantly, "but the daughter could be charming and unaware of the mother's conspiratorial

plans."

"Unlikely." Otis picked up the next letter and stared, surprised to see that the return address was the orphanage in Des Moines.

"Leon, this might be about Elisabeth."

He tore into it and read aloud.

Dear Mr.Taylor,

I regret to inform you that we have not received a child named Elisabeth at any time in the last year. We take in mainly infants.

The few older children we have all have histories we know well. I am sorry to say that none of our new wards could be the

child you are looking for. I regret that we cannot be of further assistance to you. Perhaps another institution will be able

to aid you in your search.

I pray you are reunited with your kin.

Sincerely,

Deborah Griffin

Otis crumpled the paper in his hand. He'd been able to remain somewhat optimistic and hopeful while he waited for word from the orphanages. But now the largest had failed him. Where was she? Des Moines was the most probable orphanage. Clinging to hope that a small, obscure children's home knew Elisabeth's whereabouts was akin to fishing with no hook and hoping to secure a big fat catch.

"What can I do?" he said, not actually expecting a response. "Could Mildred go and talk with the mother and daughter? Surely

they are back by now. She thought they might know something."

"It doesn't take much convincing to get her to go visiting. She could take Sadie with her. Word's spreading that she works

here, so it would do no harm," Leon said. "And there are other orphanages—news could still come. Don't give up hope."

"There are others. Hundreds. Thousands. Elisabeth could be grown by the time I find her. An orphanage is no place for her.

She is my responsibility. I need her here where I can assure myself of her safety. More than that, I want to know she is happy."

Otis pushed out of his chair. He left the office and walked the halls, cursing Reginald and his secretive ways.

***

Sadie slept ten minutes longer than normal the next day and enjoyed every second of it. The bed she now called her own was

aged and saggy, but it felt luxurious to lie there awake and not be rushing to ready herself for a day of feather sorting.

When at last she pulled herself from bed, she went to the small armoire and looked at her modest selection of clothes. Each piece was home sewn and practical, nothing fashionable and certainly nothing store-bought. In the end she wore the nicer of her brown skirts and her best shirtwaist. Her mama had bought the entire bolt of dull brown fabric and made skirts for all her girls from it, exclaiming more than once that the quality and price could not be beat. And she'd been right. The skirt had worn very well, but it was drab, and on this day of possibilities, a dress with lace or ruffles would have been fitting. No matter her clothes, she was going to be happy today.

"Good morning," she said to Mildred upon entering the large kitchen. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

Mildred looked out the window nearest her. "Looks like it might rain."

"Oh." Sadie glanced past Mildred out the window and realized she'd been overzealous in declaring it a beautiful day without

having looked outside. The sky was an ominous gray, not the shade of blue one often stopped to admire. She shrugged. "The

rain will water my family's crops."

"Indeed." Mildred went back to her dough, kneading it to a silent beat. "I'm sure you'll be missed at the duster factory."

"I imagine anyone could do my job." She leaned against the wall and watched Mildred pull the dough closer to her and then

fold it onto itself. "Some of the people at the factory have been there for years."

"My brother worked there when it was still making brooms, long before Hoag made a real name for himself. There weren't nearly

as many employees back then." She lifted her dough and put it into a large bowl to rise. "The factory has been good for this

town. During the hard winter, Hoag hired as many men as he could. I credit him with keeping bellies full that season. He used

to buy broom corn from all the local farmers. Now he takes local feathers whenever anyone has them."

"Some of our neighbors used to sell their crops to him. My father even thought of growing broom corn. Now that they make dusters, he's glad he didn't switch crops." She ran her finger along the windowsill. "There are some sorters who hope to leave one day, but that's because they aim to marry and start families."

"Raising a family is a worthy ambition." Mildred brushed the flour off the counter to her hand and disposed of it. She kept

her kitchen neat and tidy, often tasking Sadie with cleaning along the floorboards, above the cabinets, and along the back

of the sink. "When your Marvin comes you might be bidding the factory goodbye as well."

"I wonder sometimes if that will ever happen. It's been such a long time since I've seen him." For years she'd imagined her

life with Marvin, and she still did. But where once she'd believed she knew exactly how the future would look, it now felt

fuzzy. "It's more likely that I will go back to my parents' farm and... I don't know what I'll do. We're so busy making

ends meet, we haven't made plans past that."

"Plans are a good thing if they're held lightly. Some folks hold on too tight, and they can't let go when life changes."

Sadie turned from the window. Had she held on to her dream of Marvin too tightly? If he never declared affection for her,

what would she do? She flinched, uncomfortable at the thought of letting him go.

"I suppose I need only worry about today," she said, leaving her spot by the window and moving closer to Mildred. "Do you

think Otis will want to practice all day?"

Mildred's busy hands stopped moving. "I don't know what he'll want to do. Leon said he had news last night that may have changed

his plans."

"Has something happened?"

She wiped at her brow, leaving a streak of flour across her forehead. "When you see him, ask him if all is well. Maybe scoot up close and bat those long eyelashes of yours at him. That might get him talking."

"I will ask him, but I will not scoot close to him," she said with an incredulous laugh. "You and Leon are as bad as Alta,

always scheming. I'll go and find him, unless you think I should wait to be beckoned."

"Leon saw him wandering around the study." Mildred wrapped two hot biscuits in a napkin. "He told Leon he wasn't hungry, but

see if you can get him to eat. We all know that a man thinks better on a full stomach."

"I believe women do as well." Sadie took the offering and went in search of Otis. She found him just where Mildred had told

her he would be, clearly visible from the hallway, thanks to a partially opened door. He wore a hat, like always, but she

could still see a crease low on his forehead. His arms were crossed and his shoulders tense. Something worried him.

"Mildred sent a biscuit up for you," Sadie said from the doorway. She held her hearty gift higher for him to see. "She thinks

it will help you handle your troubles."

He let his arms fall to his sides.

"Can I come in and give this to you?"

"Yes, yes, of course." He pulled two chairs near the desk, motioning for her to take a seat in one of them. He took the other.

His left leg immediately began tapping the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. His restlessness also caused her to feel jittery for no explainable reason.

Sadie handed him the napkin filled with biscuits and waited. He opened it and offered her one, then silently picked at his

breakfast. "Mildred's cooking... it's good."

"Yes." Sadie took a bite. "Don't you ever tell my mama, but Mildred's biscuits are lighter than hers."

"I won't tell." He wiped at a crumb on his face. "I'm one of the best secret keepers around."

"I'm not sure whether that is a trait to admire or not."

"Are you a good secret keeper?" His foot stopped tapping.

"No," she whispered. "I told you I have three sisters. We not only bicker but also tell one another everything. I haven't

kept many things from them."

"Hmm."

"Once when I was small, my sister Molly asked me to sneak out to the barn with her. It was dark and we were supposed to be

sleeping, but we knew our favorite cow was going to have her calf soon. We wanted to watch. We stayed out two hours before

going back inside. We agreed to keep our escapade a secret from our other sisters."

"See, you are an experienced secret keeper."

"But I'm not. We made it two days before we confessed to not only our sisters but our parents too." She bit her lip, remembering

the way her father had fought a smile as he scolded them. "The only other secrets I've had have been secret hopes or dreams

and"—she looked at his head—"the secret about your presence in town and your condition."

"That's a prickly secret that follows me wherever I go. I didn't think about it nearly as much when I lived outside Boston."

"What was it like there? I want to picture it."

"It was quiet. I lived with an old man, a musician who took me in only because my father paid him handsomely. He let me stay there after I was grown because I was composing pieces he could sell. He took a cut and we both won. He had a cook and a couple other household employees who all kept quiet about my presence. I lived with them for years and never left their property. I never went to town, not to church or even to a store. He tutored me, so I was not uneducated. And I also had my music and a Bible and access to the house's library, which is why I've read Jane Eyre and know all about your secretive Mr.Rochester."

"An excellent but troubling book, but you should have been out playing your music and socializing."

"I was young when I arrived, at the mercy of the adults in my life. Eventually I got used to staying away from everyone. When

I turned twenty my music was making enough money to support me, but where was I to go? I wanted a life of my own, but in the

end, I stayed. I played the piano and I watched the road, always wondering if my father would return."

"Because you missed him?"

Otis paused. He wet his lips and looked away from her. "I missed the father of my childhood and the one I built up in my mind.

I didn't know who he had become, but I couldn't stop watching for him. I suppose it was his permission to keep living that

I waited for."

"But you never got it?"

"Never."

"You've no other family," she whispered, unable to hide the pain she felt on his behalf. Sadie stared at the half-eaten biscuit

in her hand. "Why do you ask me about secrets?"

He wrung his hands together in his lap, his leg resuming its gentle tapping. "I have another secret and I don't know what

to do about it."

"Don't tell me." She sat up straight, setting the biscuit on the desk. "I want to know. I really do, but what if I can't keep

it?"

"You're scared of my temper?"

"No, well, yes, but... well, I don't know what it is that makes me nervous. I haven't been trusted with many secrets before, but Mildred did say that she is worried and I should listen."

His face went dark. "Is that why you came? Because Mildred told you to? This is all just a job to you, isn't it?"

"Otis," she said, shaking her head. "This is my job. I work for you and that is how I send money to the bank, but when Mildred said you needed someone to listen to you,

I wanted to come." She put a hand on his smooth arm, shocking even herself, but she left it there. "Secrets, living in town, working

for you—it's all new to me, but friendship is not."

His eyes were on her hand. "I wish friendship were not so new to me."

"We all begin somewhere. Tell me more about your life in the woods. Did you yell at the trees when you were angry?"

"No, I pounded the keys and stormed about the land. I always wanted something else to do in those moments."

"My pa would have us pull garden weeds when we were having a bad day. He claimed working the land was the perfect way to sort

through troubles. Next time you're troubled you could ride out to my parents' farm and help with the crops. You could work

off a whole year's worth of angst in a matter of hours."

He nodded his head slowly. His gestures were starting to make sense to her, and she believed that at this very moment he was

concocting a plan.

"What if you were to help me with something very... delicate. And I agreed to help your family."

"You need me for more than skating? Or is rolling across the rink your delicate endeavor?"

"This other secret is a private matter, a family matter, and I know that makes you nervous, but I assure you I would not be asking anything of you that is not perfectly moral. I am cantankerous, but I'm not a villain."

She nodded, hoping that this secret was a missing piece, that with it she would be able to further understand Otis Taylor.

"I'll listen."

"You say I have no family, and that is what I have believed since Reginald died."

"So you do have family?"

"My brother left behind a child."

Sadie looked around her as though the little imp might walk through the door that very moment. "A child?"

"Our mother taught both my brother and I about living a virtuous life, but she died young, and then I was sent away. I don't

know the extent of Reginald's recklessness or what transpired. I imagine like most things, it was more complicated than those

on the outside can see, but what I do know is that he was supporting a child. We believe her to be three years old, perhaps

four."

"Is she with her mother?"

"No." He explained the few details they had about Elisabeth and the attempts he'd made to find clues—searching the house,

reaching out to Mary, and writing letters to orphanages. "I don't know what to do next."

"And you expect that I will? I have no experience tracking down missing children."

"I don't know what I expect. Mildred is going to visit some women she thinks may have an idea. I thought you could go with

her."

Sadie stood, took a determined breath, and said, "I will, and I will try to think of other ways of finding her. I do want

to help."

"Thank you, Sadie."

"Otis?"

"Yes."

"We talked of flaws last night. We listed them, but they pale in comparison to your strengths. Your desire to find your niece...

many men would not share in it. It speaks highly of your character."

He blushed, giving his face a pink glow a shade lighter than the scars on his head. "I've never met Elisabeth. I have little

experience with children, yet I feel compelled to find her. I worry that she'll be afraid of me, but I will show her..."

His voice, thick with emotion, gave an extra level of importance to his words and tugged at Sadie's heart. "I have never felt

so needed as I do right now. She's out there, and I will find her."

" We will find her." She paused, her words ringing through the room and settling in her heart as she made his mission her mission

also. "When I get back from my outing with Mildred, we will work together to think of a way to find her." She smiled, grateful

to know that his secret, though heavy, buoyed her belief that Otis Taylor was not a beast but a man with heart.

***

... People are much like plants. There is so much more to them that cannot be seen. Ambitions and dreams. Fears and hopes.

Buried beneath the soil, overlooked, but vital...