by Tolsma, Liz;
He couldn’t say.
“Then drop it. For good. Now, let’s get back to the matters at hand.”
They concluded their meeting, and Miss Tann showed him from her office, tight-lipped, without a farewell. When he went by Miss Stewart’s desk on his way out, he couldn’t force himself to return her sugary smile.
Miss Tann’s reaction to his questions had been much too forceful. Something was rotten in Denmark.
Shouts of fun and peals of laughter echoed through the lush, fenced-in nursery-school yard as Cecile stood on playground duty watching the ten or so three- and four-year-olds romp on the grass. Some swung high into the blue sky on squeaky swings while others teetered on the seesaw or whirled on the red and silver merry-go-round.
Blond, curly-headed little Faith Thomas ran to Cecile, tears streaming down her cheeks and blood streaming down her leg. “Mrs. Dowd, I fell.”
“Oh dear. Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up. We’ll make it all better.” Cecile signaled to Mrs. Quinn to keep an eye on the rest of the children. Cecile scooped up the petite four-year-old and wiped her eyes as she carried her inside. Small round tables cluttered the space, and pieces of childish artwork adorned the bright blue walls.
The girl trembled in her arms. Was someone watching out for Millie this way? Did that someone wipe her tears when she hurt herself or when she was scared? Though it was only two days since she had been kidnapped, she was sure to be terrified.
Overhead, a crack of thunder sounded. Millie hated storms. Was she frightened now?
As the rain came down, the children poured in from outside. Cecile took Faith to the washroom. “No more reason for tears. We’ll clean this out, apply some iodine, and get some gauze.”
“No! No! I don’t want iodine. That stings.” Faith let loose a series of wails.
So much like Millie. Cecile blinked away her own tears. “Shh, it isn’t so bad. The sting is good. That means the yucky stuff is going away, and your boo-boo will soon be better.”
Faith’s cries quieted to hiccups. “Are you sure?”
“I promise. You may hold my hand while I patch you up, and if you are a good girl, I will bring you a Valomilk Candy Cup tomorrow.” The treat would eat into Cecile’s savings, but she couldn’t resist. It’s what she would do for Millie. What she prayed someone was doing for her.
“I’ll be brave.”
“That’s wonderful.”
As she cleaned out the wound, Faith clung to Cecile’s hand. Only a small squeak escaped her tight-pressed lips when Cecile swabbed the iodine. Soon the scrape was cared for, a smile was restored to Faith’s face, and the child returned to her class.
If only this crushing ache would lift from Cecile’s chest. Did anyone kiss away Millie’s tears? Did anyone tuck her in at night?
The rest of the day passed in a flurry of helping little fingers with art projects, wiping runny noses, and mediating scuffles. At last the day ended, parents claimed their children, and Cecile set the room back to rights, ready for tomorrow. She grabbed her brown box bag purse from the hook by the door and made her way into the fading sunshine.
A tall, lean man with wavy raven hair stood across the street in the drizzle, holding the newspaper to his eyes. Strange that he would stand on the walk and not move one way or the other. There wasn’t a bus stop in the vicinity. And something about the way he carried himself, his back a little rounded, was familiar. She’d seen him before. No doubt about it. But where?
He peeked above the top of the paper, and she caught sight of his oval face and his memorable deep-blue eyes. With a gasp, she scurried away, her heart moving faster than her feet. He was the man from Miss Tann’s office. That lawyer. What was he doing here?
After a half block, she glanced over her shoulder. The man had followed her. She swallowed hard. What should she do? Return to the school? No one was there anymore. Head home? She didn’t want him to know where she lived. Why would he tail her? Did this have something to do with Millie?
She continued in the same direction for another block. This time when she turned around, he had disappeared. She released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Silly of her. Here she was, a grown woman, spooked by a man strolling down the street. He hadn’t been following her. Just a coincidence.
By the time she hiked the mile or so back to her apartment, every muscle in her body ached, and sweat trickled down her sternum. How had she cared for Millie after school when she often didn’t have the energy to open a box of crackers for her own dinner?
She entered the dark, close, hot apartment. Much too oppressive to start a fire to heat soup. She didn’t have an appetite anyway. She shuffled to the bedroom to dig out her blue-striped housecoat. On the shelf above the secondhand dresser sat Mrs. Cuddles, the porcelain doll that Papa had given Cecile for Christmas when she was ten years old.
Oh Papa. Did he ever think about her? Wonder if he had grandchildren? What could she do to get him to open a letter? If only she had the money to travel to see him, perhaps …
No use dwelling on the past. Today had enough troubles.
She stood on her tiptoes, slid the doll from her perch, and cradled it. Though Millie was too young for such a fragile toy, perhaps Cecile would give it to her. They could leave her on the shelf and talk to her. Cecile would help her daughter sew a couple of outfits, and together they could dress Mrs. Cuddles.
Like she would have carried Millie, Cecile brought the doll to the main room and sat with it on the hard, uneven kitchen chair. She stroked the doll’s real brown hair and tied the laces on one of the high-top black shoes. For the longest time, she sat and dreamed about having Millie home, running around the apartment together, laughing until their sides ached, getting into mischief. Cecile must have dozed because she woke with a start and jerked to a sitting position.
Mrs. Cuddles fell from her lap to the floor. And shattered into a thousand pieces.
Chapter Four
Percy yawned. He hadn’t slept well the past two nights, remembering how he’d cased Mrs. Dowd and followed her at Miss Tann’s directive. He might as well be at the fishmonger for how this case stank.
By the time he came to the end of today’s business with Miss Tann, Percy’s head pounded and his jaw ached from clenching it for so long. This time though, he had managed to keep the conversation to the matters at hand. He closed his attaché case with a click.
Percy nodded at Miss Tann’s final instructions and gathered his papers. “I have work to tend to at my office. I’ll stop by tomorrow with those contracts you wanted.” He headed for the door.
“Thank you. And Mr. Vance?”
He stopped and faced her. “Yes?”
“If you value your employment here, put the incident with Mrs. Dowd from your mind. Such situations are part of the job.”
This time he strode from the room, closing the door behind him a little too hard. He had to get out of this office, this building, before he exploded. He sprinted down the stairs and burst onto the street, the warm midday sunshine bathing him. And doing nothing to cool him down.
A familiar figure, slight, crimped brown hair, a graceful air, stood on the walk in front of the Goodwyn Institute, staring at the building. Mrs. Dowd. As if his thoughts conjured her.
He stepped closer. A wash of tears cascaded down her cheeks. The poor woman. Though Miss Tann called her stupid, he hadn’t gathered that about her in their short encounter. Could her claims be true? How tragic. First husbandless and now childless.
She turned and staggered away, her light brown cloche hat with buttons on the side bobbing as she walked. An invisible force drove him forward.
When the clanging trolley stopped on the corner of Madison and Fifth Streets, she climbed on board, deposited her coins into the farebox, and settled onto one of the wooden benches.
Percy sprinted to catch the trolley at the next stop. As Mrs. Dowd gazed out the window at the towering brick buildings lining the street, he boarded and sat behind her. W
hen the tram arrived at the entrance to the Overton Park Zoo, she disembarked. Percy followed.
Mrs. Dowd bypassed the neat flower beds bursting with red and white blooms that lined the manicured lawns, continued down the sidewalks leading to a white-columned pavilion and beyond it, to a pagoda, American flags on top flapping in the breeze. She didn’t stop until she reached the playground. There, she fell to a weathered wooden bench and covered her face, her shoulders heaving.
He reached her and then stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Should he intrude on her grief? Surely his coming might make the situation worse. He sat beside her and allowed her to cry for a time. When she straightened, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.
“Thank you.” She wiped her nose and her eyes. “I’m much obliged.” She turned to him.
The moment she recognized him was unmistakable. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes, as green as the trees’ tender leaves, widened. “You. What are you doing here?” She clutched her pocketbook in a death grip, her knuckles white.
“I’m sorry. I followed you from Miss Tann’s office. I had to see for myself that you were all right.”
She scooted toward the edge of the bench. “Why? Did you think I would throw myself into the Mississippi River?”
“No.” Had she been thinking about it? “But I was concerned.”
She stiffened her spine until her back was as rigid as his pa’s rules. “No need. I’ll be fine.” Even so, her chin quivered.
“Please, let me help.”
“Why? I don’t have any more children Miss Tann can steal.”
“She’s not in the practice of doing so.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” She studied him for a long moment. Her nostrils flared. “You’re affiliated with her, aren’t you? Her lawyer?”
“Legal assistant.” Maybe one day her lawyer. Maybe one day lawyer to many of the rich and powerful of Memphis.
“Legal assistant?” At her shouts, several of the parents and children on the playground stopped and stared at them.
“Yes.”
“Why do you question my accusations, then? You know they’re true.”
“Because Miss Tann said you willingly signed the surrender papers.”
“I didn’t. I never signed anything. My neighbor did. I didn’t even see the papers until I went to Miss Tann’s office the day afterward.”
“You can read, then?” Even though he suspected she could, Miss Tann insinuated she couldn’t.
She stared at him, redness flooding her face. “Do you believe me to be illiterate? Or stupid? Too dumb to raise my own child?”
“Miss Tann believes so.”
“Of course she does. She has to have an excuse for stealing my daughter from under my nose. I’ll prove to you I can read. Hand me whatever papers you have in your briefcase. I’ll read each and every one. And tell you what they mean. I finished high school. In fact, I graduated at the top of my class.”
“There’s no need.”
“No. I want you to know I’m not bluffing. Hand them to me.”
“They are confidential.” No wonder her daughter was a handful. This woman was a spitfire herself. “I believe you. But where were you that day? Why was your daughter with a neighbor?”
She gazed at the treetops and then at the ground. Deflated just a bit. “I was out running errands. There are places you can’t take a child. Why did you come after me?”
“Because I didn’t go inside with Miss Tann, I needed to know what went on in your home the day we took custody of Millie.”
“You were there?”
He gulped and nodded.
“But you did nothing to stop Miss Tann?”
“She told me your house was a mess. An unfit place to raise a child. That you were uneducated and unqualified to be a mother. And that you had willingly signed the papers.” In other words, Tann had lied to him. How many more lies had she told?
Dowd grabbed him by the upper arm so hard there were sure to be bruises. “Did Millie cry? Was she frightened? Did anyone comfort her?”
“Yes, she screamed and wailed like no child I’ve ever heard before.”
“But neither of you sought to soothe her?”
“Miss Tann said she would teach the child manners.”
“That’s my job. She’s stepping in where only I belong.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. All around, mothers and their happy children surrounded them. Most of the clothing was faded and worn. But the children’s smiling faces and the mothers’ doting attention told of happy homes.
“I’d like to help if I can.”
“I don’t need the help of someone associated with that woman. Leave me in peace and return to your boss.”
“She’s not my boss but my client.”
Mrs. Dowd eyed him up and down. “From all appearances, she’s your boss.” The words stung mostly because they were true. Georgia Tann held the strings, and Percy danced to whatever tune she played.
As the filtered sunlight danced overhead, Cecile gazed into Mr. Vance’s dark blue eyes. They shimmered. Was that with hurt? Had her words found their mark? She sighed. “Please, forgive my rudeness.”
With a wave of his graceful hand and long fingers, he dismissed her. “No need. I understand how difficult it is for you to trust me. After all, I do work for Miss Tann and Judge Kelley.”
“Judge Kelley?”
He squirmed. “Never mind.”
Was he keeping something from her? Had he just dropped a clue? She sat forward on the seat. “You have to believe me. I didn’t voluntarily sign away my rights to my daughter. I didn’t. She’s my life. My everything. All I have left of my husband. My only family.”
He leaned backward. “Your only family?”
She nodded and dabbed at a fresh round of tears with his handkerchief. Why had she blurted that? All it did was make her easy prey for him and his ilk. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Understandable.” His voice was soft, almost compassionate.
“The question remains. Do you believe Miss Tann and the Tennessee Children’s Home Society kidnapped my daughter?”
“Let me ask you this. Are you prepared to take care of your child? Do you have the means to sustain the two of you for the long term?”
She bit back the words that beckoned to be let loose from her tongue. He had to ask. Had to make sure Millie would be safe with her. That’s what a good, responsible social worker and lawyer would do. “Yes. I have employment.” No need in letting him know how tenuous her circumstances were. “Times are difficult, but I’m doing the best I can. Millie never went to bed hungry.
“The best part of my job is that I’m able to be with Millie all day. You saw me when I came out of the nursery school.” She’d almost forgotten about that. “Why were you spying on me?”
He chuckled. “I wasn’t spying. Miss Tann sent me there to watch the students and parents, to be on the lookout for any signs of neglect or abuse among the children.”
“That’s spying. Does Miss Tann steal other children? Is that how she cases them out and decides who to kidnap?”
He frowned. “Of course not.”
“Funny that Miss Tann would tell you to go incognito—see, I do know big words, Mr. Vance—and not have you ask the staff directly. Suspicious, if you ask me.”
He shrugged a few times. “I have questions, reservations, many of them, about Miss Tann and her operation. But it’s not easy to extricate myself from her network.”
“Because she pays you handsomely.”
He winced. Another arrow had found its mark. “Because of who her boss is.”
“And just who might that be?”
“E. H. Crump.”
At the mention of the smarmy politician’s name, her skin prickled. “You think he’s backing her?”
“I don’t think it. I know it. And I know things about Miss Tann and the Tennessee Children’s Home Society they don’t w
ant me sharing with the world.”
If he hadn’t had her full attention before, he did now. “Like what?”
“Nothing I can tell you.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“Please, don’t push me.”
“I believe I see the situation very clearly, Mr. Vance.” Cecile stood so she loomed above him. “You enjoy living in Miss Tann and Mr. Crump’s back pocket. I can see by the cut of your three-piece suit and the perfect press of your shirt that you like the finer things in life.” Heat rushed to her face. “If you dug into what is going on at the home and with those innocent children and families, it would cost you too much. And to you, your luxuries are more important than anything. Or anyone.” Her voice rose higher in pitch than she’d intended.
Now he came to his feet and rose above her, clenching his fists at his side. “You, Mrs. Dowd, are out of line. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is more important to me than the welfare of those children. That is what Miss Tann and I and all who work for the Tennessee Children’s Home Society have foremost in our minds as we grapple with these issues.” He matched the volume of her words.
“Oh, I’ll bet it is.”
“It is.” A vein bulged in his neck.
And she had thought she’d seen pain in his eyes. What a fool she was.
“We ensure that children are being raised in the best environment with parents who can give them anything and everything they need.”
“What about love? Isn’t that the most important thing of all?”
“Of course. And that’s what we give them. Not parents who are too poor or too naive to take care of them.”
“Neither wealth nor poverty make a parent. Love. Compassion. Kindness. Those constitute a parent, whether blood or not.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
A young mother who had been staring at them as they argued pulled her boys from the monkey bars as she kept watch on Percy and Cecile. He sent them a glare, and they hurried off.
Sure, he treated women and children well. “For a moment, you almost had me hoodwinked. I thought maybe you were different than Miss Tann, but I was wrong. You two are just alike. You don’t care a whit about the families you tear apart.”