Chapter 28

Sadie walked through the Hoag factory doors five minutes before her assigned shift began, head low, doing her best to go unseen.

Otis hadn't told her to go, but he hadn't told her to stay either, and so she'd quietly walked to the factory without so much

as a hello to anyone at the mansion. She was prepared to work but not ready for small talk or gossip.

Otis's song had stirred her very soul. It had been beautiful beyond words. Even now, if she was still, she could hear it.

She'd walked away, too overcome by it, too aware that if he did not forgive her for keeping a secret—if she was not able to

watch him and Elisabeth without forever feeling Nina and Peter's pain—it could all be lost.

"She's here," she heard Sylvia whisper to Alta. "Sadie!"

She took a deep breath before saying, "Hello, Sylvia."

"Why didn't you tell us he was bald and mutilated?" Alta joined them like a panther ready to pounce. "Did you think it was

funny, keeping a secret like that from me? I've never been so embarrassed in my entire life. It was a cruel joke."

Such meaningless pettiness. "It wasn't a joke."

"If you were our friend, you would have told us." Alta made a face of disgust. "I was horrified."

Sadie's mouth fell open. How dare she. "You should not have pulled his mask off. How dare you."

Alta straightened. "You need to go back to the country, and he should go back to wherever he came from. You're both frauds,

and this town doesn't need you."

"This town is as much his as it is yours."

"No." Alta gritted her teeth. "You're wrong and you both should be ashamed of yourselves for your embarrassing display. Your

matching outfits—he didn't just arrive for the masquerade; you know him. You act innocent, but you've been there living with

him. It's wrong and you know it."

"I work there." She stood her ground. "You should stop judging everyone else and look at your own flaws. A man with scars...

how could you be so harsh?"

Alta smirked. "Have you fallen in love with that monster?"

"Don't say that." She was a lion ready to fight. "Don't ever say that again."

Alta's nose wrinkled up. "We all saw him."

"You've never really seen him," she growled, not caring about the onlookers. The well-oiled gears of the factory stopped turning.

They were the break in the cogs. She'd not been there to stand beside Otis the night before, when his mask came off. But in

front of these forty people she could and she would speak up. "If you laughed at him last night, then you ought to question

your character, not his, because—"

She stopped herself. Sylvia and Alta wore smug expressions, as though they'd won. She couldn't spend another moment sorting

beside Alta. She needed to leave. "Excuse me," she said and stepped away, heading for the door.

"You can't just leave," Alta said to her back. "What about your father? Or did you lie about him too?"

She stopped. She couldn't leave. Her father was on the road to recovery, but he wasn't there yet.

"Go." Mr.Hoag's voice filled the air.

Her stomach dropped. The loss of her job could prove devastating.

"That's what you get." Alta's snide, triumphant voice added injury to her already wounded spirit.

"No," Mr.Hoag said. "You go."

Sadie gasped. Mr.Hoag was pointing at Alta and then the door. Alta's face grew red and blotchy. "But I—"

"I've had enough complaints about you. After last night I've seen for myself what your behavior is like. Gather your things

and go."

The factory workers watched in silence as Alta balked and then did as she'd been told, cursing as she went. The glare she

directed at Sadie was piercing, but Sadie's conscience was clear. She'd done the right thing, and it was time to do the right

thing again.

"Mr.Hoag," she said.

"Yes."

"I have to go. I need to set some things right. I understand if I can't keep my job... but I'd like to come back when I

can."

"You've worked hard." He looked tired but smiled. "I can't save your position. But when you return, come and talk to me, and

I'll let you know if there's an opening. If there's not, I'll be happy to give you a recommendation."

Sadie thanked him. And though it was hard to walk away knowing that her job might not be there, she knew she had to leave.

Thankfully, Otis had paid the doctor's bills, and the harvest was well on its way. Above all else, she was thankful that her

father was finally on the mend. Still, a surge of fear threatened her resolve. But nothing could be set right if she did not

tell the truth.

She reentered the mansion through the back door, careful not to be seen. Wolf liked to lie in the parlor, where the warm sun first came through the windows, and she hoped he was there now, far enough away that she could come and go unnoticed.

In her room she paused long enough to scrawl a letter to Otis and pack her few belongings. Then, with soft feet, she crept

to the music room, leaving her note where she knew Otis would find it.

***

Feather dusters, no doubt, were important. No one wanted a layer of dirt on their mantel or window frames, but he still hated

them. If not for the duster factory, Sadie would be here, and they could sit across from each other and discuss her secret

keeping, as well as the letters he'd found and not yet read. After enough talking, surely they would close whatever distance

remained between them. After all, they were allies fighting on the same side. What good would it do to hold a grudge longer

than necessary? To hate Sadie was to punish himself.

He'd not seen her since she left him in the music room the night before. He needed to know why, but she'd gone to the blasted

feather duster factory, leaving him to watch the clock as he waited for her to return. What was he to do for the next nine

hours?

The nursery was set up for Elisabeth's arrival, Reginald's accounts were at last sorted, and Wolf had followed Leon outside

to trim the shrubbery. He looked at the marbles he'd found in Reginald's room. Soon enough he would play them with Elisabeth.

Elisabeth. He smiled. She would be his family, even if Sadie could not accept his decision to step in and do his duty. He would not be alone. He would be needed and important in the eyes of a child, and if he had to, he would be content with that. They would be inseparable as he raised and doted on her, giving her the care she required and the love she needed to thrive.

On his desk sat the other letters he'd found. If he read very slowly, he could pass at least half an hour reading letters

and be that much closer to Sadie's return.

The first he tore open was a letter to Reginald from a businessman. Without knowing more about Reginald and his past, it meant

little to Otis, and though he was willing to go slow and ponder on it, there was nothing to be gleaned from it.

His hand shook with the opening of the next letter. It was not written in Reginald's hand, but instead it was addressed to

him, from Katie.

Dear Reginald,

Our love was a spring flower that didn't last long enough. I don't know if you even think of it as love, but I always have.

It must have been at least a type of love, because this beautiful girl, our daughter, came of it. I tried to tell you when

we were last together, and I began many letters once I left, but I was so afraid. You have so much ambition, I could not bear

the thought of slowing you down or burdening you with shame.

My circumstances have changed. I can only pray that you will not see Elisabeth as a burden but as a gift. Look at her dimpled

cheek and her eyes. I believe they are Taylor eyes. I have stared at them every second I can, but now I must make the hardest

decision I have ever made.

My parents have forced me to keep the baby a secret. They've told everyone I am ill. Now that she is born, they are busy making plans to send her to a foundling home. If she goes, I will never know what has become of her, and I will have no way of ensuring she is safe. I cannot bear the thought of never seeing her again. My parents refuse to help me raise her. I have no means to care for her and nowhere to go or man to call upon to provide a name and home for us.

I looked at her this morning and my heart felt full, ready to burst with love. I ran my fingers over her soft skin, and then

I told her that I would do everything I could to give her a beautiful life, even if it shattered my heart to do so. I want

her to be loved.

I have convinced our maid to take Elisabeth to you. I don't want to ask anything of you, and I would not for myself, but for

Elisabeth I will swallow what little pride I have left, and I will beg.

Reginald, I beg you to give her love. I beg of you to tell her that I love her. Tell her that I did not kiss her cheek and

watch her ride from my life for any reason except that I had to try to give her something better. Tell her that what I have

done is an act of love—the hardest, most painful act of love, but that for her I would do anything. Keep her safe and cherished.

Forgive me,

Katie

Such bravery. Such love. Otis sat back in his seat, tipped his head back, and stared at the ceiling. Reginald, Katie, Elisabeth... there were pieces of their puzzle he would never know. What had Reginald done when he'd found himself the father of an infant daughter? Had his father ever known? He wanted answers, but they were not to be had. His actions alone were all he had power over.

I'll bring her home , he vowed, wishing he could look Katie in the eyes and tell her that he would honor her request to speak of her with kindness

and to tell Elisabeth as she grew that love and selflessness often came at a grievous cost.

He shoved the faded letter into his pocket and went for a horse, stopping only to put the long-forgotten sack of marbles in

his pocket—his first gift to his little girl. Then he stepped away from the house, bound for Peter and Nina's, emboldened

by Katie's words. He would return with Elisabeth. It was time to bring her home.