Chapter 22

A wave of apprehension sent a chill racing up his spine. For a moment they'd been so close. He'd almost believed he'd seen

something more than friendship in her eyes, and it had given him hope that her feelings could one day match his own. But the

moment was gone now. There was no longing in her gaze—only fear.

She picked up an old corncob doll and fiddled with the dry husk dress. "What if Elisabeth is with a good family? What if she

loves them and they love her?"

"I am her father's brother. I am her family."

"Yes, I know that. But what if during this time when you did not know she existed, she found another family. What if she has

a mama and a papa?"

"Sadie, you know I can't abandon her. I can't give up. I am going to find her. More than that, I am going to love her." She'd been his supporter. His ally. Why was she deserting their cause now? Had she given up? He stood, leaving his small chair behind, and slowly moved about the loft. "I want to give her this." He motioned toward the homemade toys and miniature chairs. "I want to give her a kingdom of her own. I want to give her memories worth cherishing." His voice faltered. "I have my flaws—you know that—but for her I will soften. I will treat her well."

Sadie nodded. "I believe you. I don't doubt your love for her or the father you would be."

"Then what is it?"

"It's... it's nothing. Just a thought that's been nagging." She smiled, but it didn't light up her face like it so often

did. "Come, let me show you more of my farm. We can talk of Elisabeth later."

"Was that your pressing matter?"

"Yes... well, and about my father, of course. The doctor you sent is going to have him moved to Des Moines. He believes

a different surgery will help him. He was professional, but I could tell he was unimpressed with the way the local doctor

set my father's bones."

Otis asked more questions about her father's health as they walked the fields with Wolf beside them. He could tell her father's

health was a worry for her. But there was something she was keeping from him. He wanted to call her out and tell her he'd

come all this way to support her, and there was no reason for secrets between them. But then he thought of his scars and how

he'd needed time before he was ready to show them to her. If she was harboring a secret, he would have to trust that when

she was ready, she would share.

They talked about her sisters' efforts on the farm, about the cows and calves, and about her childhood memories. The heaviness

he'd felt in her absence vanished.

"There I go, talking up a storm again. I'm sorry," Sadie said.

"When you were away"—he stopped walking and put a hand on her upper arm—"I missed our conversations. Life is not the same

with you gone. I can't explain it, but the house is darker now."

"You do know you could open the drapes and the sun would come in?"

"You know how I feel about drapes and people looking in."

"I do. And I still hope one day you'll throw them open." She turned toward the sun and let it shine on her face. "I love this

place." She inhaled deeply, as if breathing in the scent of the land itself, before facing him. "Is it strange that I have

missed the Taylor mansion even while being here?"

"I believe it is possible to love more than one place at the same time. My mother loved Monticello and still talked with fondness

of her childhood home."

They continued their meandering about the property. Her arms swung easily at her sides, drawing his attention from the waving

fields to her inviting hand. Mr.Crawford and his hired tutors had never taught him about courtship. Never once had they spoken

about the desire to reach out and take a woman's hand.

"Is something wrong?" Sadie stopped near one of the few trees. Its low-hanging branches created an arbor above them.

"Why?" he snapped, embarrassed that somehow she'd read his mind.

She grinned, and his eyes moved from her once swaying arms to her lips. He jerked his head away. What was wrong with him?

"Why are you smiling?" he snarled, but it didn't sound as unaffected as he wished.

"Because it is so good to have you here. Even if you are a bit ornery." Her airy laughter made it impossible for him to do

anything but smile in return. "I think beneath your rough exterior, you are a gentleman."

"Tell me, what would a gentleman do in this moment?"

The wind picked up, sending the crops dancing first to the west and then east. Her loose hair joined in, blowing at will. The strands of auburn reached for the sky and then brushed across her face, skimming the skin he longed to touch.

"A gentleman would agree to come in and see my father." His hand went to his hat. She put her hand on his arm. "Don't worry."

He let go of his hat and put his hand on top of hers. "You are the only person who makes me forget my scars."

"You don't have to forget them," she whispered, their hands still touching. "Just remember there is more to you than what

happened in the past. I've seen pieces of your heart—others will too. Come and meet my family and you can see pieces of mine."

Otis didn't want to move. Her hand, he feared, would be taken away, and the warmth that crept from her touch to his heart

would go with no promise of ever returning.

"Otis?"

"Sadie," he said, so softly his voice was almost lost to the wind, "say no if you wish, but..." He tried to slow his heart.

"Could I hold your hand?"

Long seconds passed in silent agony.

"If my hand," she said at last, "will help you, then take it."

Instantly he berated himself for not speaking clearer. Meeting her family scared him, but it was not the reason he longed

to take her hand and hold it in his own. Something else, not fear, compelled him to seek her touch.

"I'll meet them." He tugged at his hat and started toward the farmhouse with Sadie struggling to keep up.

"What is it?" she hollered against the wind. "Don't walk away from me."

"You work for me," he said without turning toward her. "You don't have to hold my hand. That's not your job. I... I forgot

that for a moment. Let's go meet your parents and sisters and be done with it."

"No," she snarled back at him. Like a fierce animal protecting its territory, she stood her ground. "Stop right there and tell me what I've done. You have no right to be angry with me, at least not until you give an explanation."

He stopped walking, turned toward her, and with arms thrown to his sides, said, "You broke into my factory, and then ever

since, you've been there, smiling and making me believe... giving me hope that I could have a life. I was just waiting

for every day to go by, and then you came and..."

"And what?"

He couldn't say it. Once he confessed and told her of his growing affection, he could never take it back, and he could lose

her completely. Too much was at stake. He backed away from the fight.

"And..." He faltered. "You have changed things. I suppose I am worried your family will not like me."

"You can be contrary, but so can they. Trust me, you'll get on splendidly."

He nodded and made for the house, ready to be done with this conversation and this foolhardy trip to the country. What a fickle,

spineless man he'd become. Too afraid to bare his heart.

He left his hat on as he stepped into the small farmhouse. Simple furniture, floral wallpaper, and framed stitchery gave it

a homey feel. One moment was all he had to take in the sight of Sadie's family home and the scent of stew bubbling on the

stove before a flock of women with singsong voices and sparkling eyes that matched Sadie's came at him.

Sadie's sisters introduced themselves, and then like a gaggle of geese, they clustered around him and asked one question after

another, barely giving him time to breathe between answers. His palms were sweaty, and his heart raced as he stood amid what

felt like a hundred women.

"Is it wonderful being back in Monticello?" Violette asked. "Someday I plan to move to a city. Do you love it there?"

"I'm still deciding," he fired back, taking one breath between this answer and the next.

"Do you plan to reopen your factory?" Molly was next to ask him. "Bicycles are still in demand. I've always wanted one."

"I haven't made a decision yet." This response led to further questioning that challenged his ability to keep his personal

plans to himself. He did his best though, answering every question in brief, short replies, all the while watching the women's

faces. They held no malice, at least not blatant malice, but they were bursting with curiosity.

"You don't talk easily," Violette said, interrupting their interrogation.

"Violette!" Sadie snapped back. "Watch your mouth."

"It's only that from your letters, I expected someone different."

Sadie glared at her sister, then turned and offered an apologetic smile in his direction.

"Otis is our new friend. He has only just arrived," Flora spoke up. "Perhaps we should not ask so many questions. He may not

be used to our prying ways. Not everyone was raised in a family of sisters."

Otis only half heard the second part of her statement. Her reference to him as a friend echoed through his mind, and instantly

he felt a kinship with Flora, the quiet sister.

"The questions are good for him," Leon said from the doorway that connected the kitchen and front room. It was Otis's turn

to glare. "Relax, boy, I don't think they'll bite. This is what friends do. They converse, they laugh, they ask questions."

Leon's help had Otis feeling sheepish. The conversation hit a lull, leaving everyone unsure how to proceed. It may have gone on in awkward silence if Sadie's mother hadn't entered the room with Mildred at her heels. Something about the tears glistening in the family matron's eyes nudged him to action. He left his spot beside the sisters and went to her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said and moved his hat slightly up and down on his head.

"It is our honor." She put a hand on her heart. "When our girl left home, we were so worried. You were there when she was

in need, and now you've sent a doctor. I'm so grateful."

Forgetting the others in the room, he stepped closer and said, "It has all been my pleasure. Your daughter was there for me

when I needed her."

"God is good." She patted his cheek. "Come and meet my husband."

Ten minutes beside Sadie's father, and he understood the role of a father in a way he'd not before. His tired eyes were full

of warmth, care, and gratitude, despite the persistent pain. His words were gentle and kind.

"Take off your hat," the man said from his bed.

When Otis sat, unmoving, Sadie's father said, "Son, I don't care a thing about how a man looks on the outside. I just want

to see the face of the man who came to my family's rescue."

Otis sat silently another moment before removing his hat and putting it in his lap. "I haven't made peace with it yet. Though

I've had years to try."

"I've seen far uglier men."

The tension eased, and they talked like two friends. They spoke about Iowa, factories, and Otis's exile. His guard down, he

told the man about his struggles. And then they spoke of Sadie.

"You care for my daughter, don't you?" Sadie's father asked.

"She's a hardworking woman."

"Better come up with a better line if you ever expect to woo her."

"I never said I wanted to woo her."

"You should want to. She's a treasure, but living out here so far from the town, she hasn't had much chance at being noticed."

"She said something about a man named Marvin." Otis hoped he wasn't breaching her trust. "She must have done enough to catch

his eye."

"I guess we'll know the answer soon enough." He sank deeper into his pillow. "But she never spoke about him like she speaks

about you. Better go and spend time with the others and be good to my girl."

"You have my word."

"And you have my blessing."

***

Sadie did her best to join in the conversation and even steer it if it went in a dangerous direction, but her heart was not

in it. She was too distracted, too busy thinking about Otis's request to hold her hand. What had it meant? Again and again

she rebuked herself for not telling him Elisabeth's whereabouts. She'd justified her omission by telling herself that Otis

could not bear such news and enjoy his time with her family. She would tell him soon, when the timing was better. Her resolution

didn't sit well, but she stomached her discomfort, burying it as deep as she could.

"We best be heading back," Mildred said, looking out at the darkening sky. "We don't have much daylight left, and with those

clouds rolling in..."

"Oh dear." Sadie's mother shuddered. "Do you think you ought to wait and go in the morning? When the storms come, the ruts in the road fill with water. It can flood clear over. I would hate for you to get stuck."

Mildred looked at Otis and Leon. Sadie gripped the edge of her seat with white-knuckled hands, anxious to hear what they would

decide. In truth, she did not know what to hope for. Of course she wanted them safe, but to have them sleep under her family's

roof...

"If the Wests are certain we are not imposing, then I think it wise we wait," Leon said. "Traveling a rough road would be

easier in daylight."

Her sisters clapped their hands and squealed.

"If only Papa could play his fiddle," Flora said when the sisters' excitement died down. "That would make a jolly evening."

"He will again someday, thanks to Mr.Taylor," Violette said. "We will just have to find other ways to pass the evening."

Oh dear. Otis would surely think them an odd bunch if her sisters decided to plan the night's entertainment.

"What shall we do?" Violette asked.

Molly stepped away from the parlor and returned with a broom. "We could stick pull, entertain Mr.Taylor by showing him how

we kept ourselves occupied when we were younger."

"You just like pulling sticks because you always win," Violette said.

Sadie gaped. This could not be happening. There was nothing ladylike about stick pulling. It was a game played by little boys

and, on occasion, men who wanted to boast about their strength.

"Let's think of something else," she suggested. "Something everyone can participate in if they wish, even Leon and Mildred."

Leon sat near the sisters and Otis, a jolly smile on his face. Mildred rocked quietly in the corner, talking to Sadie's mother,

unaware of the decision-making.

"A dramatic reading," Violette suggested, already moving to the bookshelf. "It's always entertained us before, and tonight we will have men to read."

"Yes!" Flora clapped her hands. "It'd be good fun."

"If that is what everyone wishes, I'm willing," Otis said, already showing loyalty to the family's quiet sister. "I can't

promise to be very good."

"None of us are." Molly leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "Mother says we are all overly dramatic, and if anyone

ever saw us, they would hightail it out of here."

"It's a good thing the weather gives us no option of hightailing anywhere," Otis said, appearing more at ease with every passing

minute. "I'm not opposed to pretending to be someone I'm not."

"It'll do an old man like me a world of good, watching young people enjoying life. Even if they are overdramatic." Leon settled

deeper into his chair. "I'm happy to read whatever part you wish."

Sadie kept her eyes and attention on Violette, silently pleading that she pick a safe reading, one with no romance or silly

lines. Something sedate and serene, boring even.

"Our nights have been dull since Sadie left. I read some of her old stories and decided to fix them up a bit." Violette stood

in front of the group, playing the part of leader.

"You put so much work into it. We should do it," Flora said. "Daphne was always one of my favorite characters."

"Daphne?" Otis asked.

"You don't need to know," Sadie said.

"I do." Otis leaned forward in his seat. "Tell me everything."

Violette ignored Sadie. "She started writing stories about a character named Daphne when she was thirteen or fourteen. Little

adventures, and when she got a little older, she added in romance."

Sadie groaned. It was all so childish and embarrassing.

"I used my nights to edit and embellish them a bit," Violette said with a grin. "They're so much more romantic now. And I

have made sets of them so we can do a reading. Molly thought it was a waste of time"—she shot an accusing look at her sister—"but

it wasn't. It's going to be so much fun."

"I think we should pick something else," Sadie said, a weak attempt to deter the already enthusiastic crowd. "We should do

one we are more familiar with."

"I haven't read any of them," Otis said. "I think Daphne's story, with Violette's edits, sounds intriguing."

Violette giggled as she handed the copies to everyone, all painstakingly written by hand. "You'll be Alexander Darling." She

smiled at Otis. "When Sadie first wrote him, she said that Alexander Darling was the most romantic name there was."

"I was much younger when I said that!" She held the copy she'd been handed high enough that it hid her face.

Otis cleared his throat. "Alexander Darling? It'll be my first time playing the hero."

Sadie lowered her copy, and if they'd been alone, she might have told him that he'd been a hero before. For their family and

for her.

Violette looked at Sadie. "You're blushing. It's like you're in character already. You'll be a perfect Daphne."

"No, it should be you—you always begged to be Daphne. You love being the lead."

"Nonsense. You're the oldest and you know Daphne best."

Sadie acquiesced, not wanting to cause a scene, but later Violette would be getting an earful. Reading Daphne with Otis reading

Mr.Darling, even if everyone knew it was only a dramatic reading, would surely become a memory forever accompanied by a blush.

"Let's begin," Violette said as though she were the train conductor and everyone was dallying on the platform.

They all scooted their chairs closer together, except Sadie, who received a glare from Violette that brought forth a huff

as she, too, scooted closer. Violette and Molly began by reading their lines, each with an exaggerated delivery as they took

on the roles of the imaginary maids. Flora entered the story as the horse trainer, and even Leon participated, becoming the

gardener at the fictional Roseland Hall.

Daphne's Destiny opened with the two maids gossiping about the woman who had just been hired to muck the stalls. They saw her as a threat

to their grand schemes to fall in love with the mysterious owner themselves. Then poor Daphne entered, a woman who'd taken

the job simply to provide for herself and escape her tyrannical uncle.

Sadie read her first page of lines using a steady monotone voice. "‘You weren't supposed to see me like this,'" she read aloud.

Poor Daphne was seen by the mysterious Mr.Darling with tears streaming down her face, but Sadie didn't even attempt to cry.

"‘Those women thrive on gossip.'" Otis surprised her by using a voice that was different from his own. "‘Tell them to go away

and to leave you in peace.'" He snickered before reading his next line. "‘And tell them you hope they walk through cow dung

as they go.'"

The whole room snorted with laughter, even Sadie, who had been determined to remain stoic.

"I added a lot of my own lines," Violette said over the laughter. "I'm not as good at this as Sadie."

"It's delightful," Leon said. And they went back to the story.

"‘I do hope they step in dung and then track it all through their fine houses. But they won't go away. Every day they talk of my leaving. They tried to convince me to marry the old preacher. He's old enough to be my father, and I always hoped for a love match.'" She nearly choked on the word love . This script was only a shadow of what she'd once written, leaving her unsure what she'd be reading next. From the corner

of her eye, she saw Otis move his chair a little closer. "‘But I am desperate and poor and that is enough for them to believe

me unworthy of true love. They want to run me off.'"

"‘Everyone ought to have a love match. No circumstances should prevent it.'" Otis's character voice slipped to his own. "‘They

should... they should all marry the person who makes them smile and laugh and go weak in the knees.'"

"‘Oh dear,'" Sadie read. "‘Mrs.Smalls is coming. She's as bad as the gossips, except she wants me to become a governess and

move to the big city. All I want is to be free to choose for myself. I'm tired of running.'"

"‘There must be another way. Perhaps there's someone you love already. He could be right in front of you, and you've just

never realized. There must be—'"

"‘What are you two doing together?'" Mrs.Smalls, played by Flora, asked. "‘You, Mr.Darling, surely have better things to

do with your time than spend it with the likes of Daphne. You ought to go out and meet the fine women of the city.'"

Sadie rolled her eyes but played along, covering her face as she let out an exaggerated sob. The reading went on. The residents of Roseland Hall continued trying to marry Daphne off or belittle her, while Daphne tried her best to understand the reserved owner. Several lines brought laughter from the group. Before long Sadie found herself engrossed by not just the story, which felt only faintly familiar, but by Otis, who seemed to be enjoying the freedom he'd found as he took on the part of a different man. As Mr. Darling, his guard was down, and a playfulness she'd not expected filled the room.

"‘Ride horses with me,'" he said, and she felt tempted to saddle a horse right then and there and ride away from all her cares.

"‘Let them say what they wish. I see past it all.'"

"‘You can't possibly see past my drab clothes and—'"

"‘That's not what I see.'" The sincerity in his voice... It pierced her heart. "‘I see a friend, and—dare I say it?'"

"‘Say it.'" She held her breath.

"‘I see kindness and loyalty. I see the most beautiful woman I have ever met.'"

The scene went on. The room was quiet, all except for the couple who teetered on the edge of reality and fiction. Who was

talking? What was real?

Otis grabbed her hand near the end of the story. "‘Don't go, Daphne. Stay here. I know you believe yourself desperate. Let

me give you another option.'"

"‘What might that be, Mr.Darling? I am a penniless soul. If there are no more horses, there is no more work for me here.'"

"‘Me. I am your option—pick me. I've loved you since I first met you. Let me marry you, and I'll be your darling forever.'"

The laughter that followed instantly filled the farmhouse, but Sadie could not laugh. Her hand in his made it all feel more

real than fictitious. "‘Yes,'" she whispered, squeezing his hand. "‘If I had every option in the entire world open to me,

it is you I would pick.'"

He scooted to the edge of the chair, their knees touched, and then with his hand still holding hers, he brought her fingers

to his lips and kissed them. A thousand sensations flew through her.

"Otis?" Sadie whispered, slipping out of character.

"It says here that Alexander Darling kisses Daphne."

"That was hardly a kiss," Leon said. "Do it right, boy."

Everyone watched Sadie and Otis. Or rather Daphne and Mr.Darling.

He looked at her with questioning eyes. "Daphne?"

"Mr.Darling," she managed to murmur.

He leaned in, and then she felt the gentle brush of his lips against her cheek. The room exploded in applause.

"Your evening readings are quite entertaining," Otis said with his head still near hers. His breath tickled her ear. "Is it

my superb acting that has everyone so enthused?"

"We always applaud at the end. We pretend we've a grand audience." She swallowed, unsure how so gentle a touch could travel

all the way to the tips of her toes. "Normally we just read the lines and do not act it out."

"Ah, someone should have told me." He kept his voice low enough that only she could hear him. "But I don't regret it. Poor

Mr.Darling was so in love. I feel I've done him a service by allowing him to kiss his fair Daphne's cheek. Do you suppose

a kiss on the lips would have been more appropriate?"

"I..." She swallowed, but the lump in her throat would not go away. "I don't know. Violette wrote that part."

"Do you not think they were in love?" he asked. "I think he wanted to take her in his arms and tell the whole world."

"I always imagined Daphne and her Mr.Darling living happily ever after. But I never finished the story," Sadie said, placing

her hand on the cheek he'd kissed. Her lips burned, begging to know what it would feel like to have Alexander Darling kiss

her in a more forward way.