by Tolsma, Liz;
She grabbed the back of the bench for support. “You are high and mighty, and you want to stay that way. Until you know what it’s like to lose everything in the market crash and then to have your husband and your daughter severed from you, don’t talk to me.” With that, she whirled on her heel and marched away. Only the rise of heat in her chest kept the tears at bay. Who cared that the people in the park stared at her? Without Millie, nothing mattered.
Near the zoo entrance, she spied a police officer in a blue uniform, a row of buttons down his coat, a star on his chest, and a badge on his billed hat. He would aid her. He had to. With her purse banging against her thigh, she ran to him. “Excuse me, sir. You have to help me. My daughter’s been stolen.”
The fair officer lifted his light eyebrows. “Just now? Where?”
“No, Miss Georgia Tann from the Tennessee Children’s Home Society came to my neighbor the other day when I was out looking for a job and took my daughter. They forged my signature on relinquishment papers. She’s already been adopted by another family.”
He grabbed her by the upper arm. “Are you feeling well, ma’am? Is there anyone here with you?”
“No. Please, you have to believe me.” She couldn’t draw a deep breath. “Help me.”
“Let me escort you home. You need to lie down.”
“What? No, no. I have to find my little girl.” She wrenched from the officer’s grasp and raced from the park. Down the street, around the corner, in between traffic, she ran and ran until her legs refused to carry her one step farther. She discovered herself at the entrance of the cemetery where Nathaniel was buried, the rusty iron gates swung open. She weaved among the simple stone markers and the wooden crosses. Very little broken sunlight dappled the shaggy grass. She came to Nathaniel’s plain gravestone.
Falling to her knees, she wept bitter tears. “Millie. Oh my Millie Mae.”
Chapter Five
The clack of numerous typewriters and the ding of the bells as they reached the edge of the page greeted R. D. Griggs as he wandered into the clerk of court’s office, his domain. At one of the desks, the telephone jangled, and the pretty redhead answered with a chipper “Hello.”
He could allow himself to relax when the office operated as it should. And that’s what he was here to ensure. No need to have Crump’s cronies on his back. R.D. sauntered over to his adjustable stool and perched on it in front of the clerk’s barred window. From his briefcase, he pulled a recent silver-framed photograph of his wife, Darcy, and their new three-year-old daughter. Pearl. His love, his heart. She didn’t have Darcy’s blond hair but brown, much like his own.
“How are things?” Jefferson Landers, R.D.’s boss, slapped him on the back, maybe a little harder than necessary, and didn’t smile.
He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Just fine.”
Landers leaned in and lowered his voice. “What about that problem from the other day? That upstart lawyer who thought he could go rogue and do things his own way?”
“The one with the lawsuit against Thompson?”
“That’s the one.”
R.D. shuffled a few papers. “Taken care of.” He swallowed. A few phone calls to the right people, and the lawyer had backed off. Thompson, a friend of Boss Crump, wouldn’t be bothered. He could encroach on his neighbor’s land if he so desired.
“Good, then you’ve actually done your job.” Landers heaved a sigh. “We’d better not have any more trouble with him.”
“He’ll toe the line from now on. The case he brought was dismissed in a flash, and he was humiliated.” R.D. shifted a stack of papers on his desk and avoided eye contact with Landers. As the weight of his boss’s stare fell heavy on him, his skin prickled.
“Let’s have a chat in my office.” Not a request but a demand.
R.D. turned as Landers strode through the maze of clerks and secretaries, desks and wastepaper baskets. Like a meek puppy caught chewing his master’s shoes, R.D. followed Landers through the bright, noisy room, the odors of coffee and cigarettes mingling in the air, to his private corner office.
They entered, the sounds and smells from the main room cut off when Landers shut the door. He moved behind his well-polished tiger-maple desk and sat in his gray leather chair.
R.D. stood as straight and stiff as a statue. This might as well be the Spanish inquisition for all the jangling his stomach was doing.
“Take a seat, Griggs. This isn’t the army. You don’t have to stand at attention.”
R.D. settled himself on the edge of the brown club chair, his gaze on the white carpeting with orange and purple fans printed on it. “What is this about?”
Landers cracked his knuckles. “About you.”
R.D. flicked his gaze upward. “Me?”
“Not having qualms about your work, are you?”
“Of course not.” R.D.’s voice squeaked.
“Because I wouldn’t be happy about that. Neither would Crump.”
“I know full well.” Everyone in this building did.
“What is it, then?”
“Nothing, really.” R.D. couldn’t meet his boss’s eyes.
Landers leaned across the table and settled his voice into a softer, more soothing tone. “You can tell me. I’m not a cold, heartless man.”
And that was the truth. No one much enjoyed messing in dirty politics with Crump, but if you wanted any position of power in the city, the county, even the state, you had to play nice with the boss. If you didn’t do what he said, he would ruin you in a second.
And Darcy, R.D.’s beautiful debutante wife, wouldn’t stand for that. Neither would R.D.’s father-in-law, who had bought him this position and enough money to care for Darcy in the way she’d become accustomed.
“I know that about you, Griggs. I’ve seen you with your child.”
A child he would fight to keep.
“And that’s what this pertains to.”
“My child?”
“Not yours specifically, but children in particular.”
“You’re talking in riddles. Come out with it.”
Landers drew a folded sheet of pink paper from his suit coat pocket and handed it to R.D. R.D. smoothed it open.
To Whom It May Concern,
On June 13th of this year, as I was searching for a job to support myself and my three-year-old daughter, Miss Georgia Tann from the Tennessee Children’s Home Society and Mr. Percy Vance, her legal assistant, paid my elderly neighbor a visit. In short order, they deemed my apartment unsuitable for children and removed Millicent from my custody. Miss Tann forced my neighbor to sign papers she was led to believe were giving permission for Millie to be handed into their temporary care.
June 13th. A few days before Pearl came to them. He perused the rest of the letter where the woman further explained her situation.
I am begging you to help me locate my daughter. Though Miss Tann cites my inability to adequately provide for my child, nothing could be further from the truth.
Please, help me. No lawyer or law enforcement officer has been willing to assist me. If you are a parent, you can understand the agony I’ve faced since her loss. Please, I beseech you, help me.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Nathaniel Dowd
Like a window ahead of a summer storm, R.D.’s mind slammed shut. Of course, for years there had been rumors about Miss Tann’s methods of obtaining the hundreds of children she adopted to various families around the country. And one day, she had shown up unannounced at R.D.’s home with a brown-haired, green-eyed angel and announced she was theirs. In that instant, R.D. and Darcy, who had despaired of ever having children, became parents. And Miss Tann took every opportunity she had, every time they met, whether by accident or on purpose, to remind him of her gift and how easily she could rip it from him.
R.D. inhaled a steadying breath. “This woman is fabricating the story. What a crazy pack of lies.”
“There have been others.”
“I’m well aware.
Parents who can’t take care of their children but hate the world to know what terrible mothers they are. Trust me, these children are better off adopted than with a single woman who can’t provide for them. The poor wenches, traversing the city’s streets at night by themselves, no supervision.”
“I just wanted you to know.”
“Why, because I have a three-year-old daughter from the Tennessee Children’s Home Society? Sir, Miss Tann places hundreds of children a year. Many of them, I suspect, are around the age of three.”
“Again, I wanted you to be informed. These women are searching for their children.”
“Women like this Mrs. Dowd have no business raising a family. Those kids are better off with Georgia and will be better off in adoptive homes.” R.D. tore the letter into tiny shreds and dropped it into the wastebasket beside the desk, his ears ringing. Then he huffed from the room. As soon as he shut the door behind him, he slumped. What if his daughter… ?
Absolutely not. She was his and had a better life with him and Darcy. End of story.
Cecile stood on the courthouse steps, peering at the Greek-style, white-columned stone building. Around the perimeter stood numerous statues. This was a place of important people, important happenings. Justice. Every policeman she’d inquired of, every lawyer she’d spoken to, every letter she’d written had not brought a single spark of hope. No one cared to listen to her. No one cared to help her locate Millie. So today she came to the place where truth and right were supposed to prevail. Her one last chance.
She stepped into the cool interior and to the list of all the building’s offices on the board posted on the wall. She scanned them. There was the one she wanted. Armed with the information she needed, she headed to the elevator. The black operator, his curly hair whitened with age, slid the metal bars to the side and ushered her in. “What floor, ma’am?”
“Third.”
He shut the cage and pressed the button. As they rode upward, the tiny space closed in on her. She panted. Prickles of sweat broke out on her arms. She couldn’t do this. Shouldn’t be here. Who did she think she was, going to a powerful judge like Camille Kelley to petition her to open Millie’s adoption records? A judge who had refused to take her repeated phone calls day after day.
She twisted the length of ribbon on her wrist.
“Ma’am? Ma’am?” The elevator operator tapped her on the shoulder. “Is you okay?”
“What? Oh, I’m fine. So sorry.”
“We’re here. Who’s you going to see?”
“Judge Kelley.”
“Turn right then, and her office be the first on the left.”
“Thank you.”
“Good day.”
She exited the lift and followed the man’s instructions and soon stood in front of the judge’s chambers. A simple gold plaque screwed into a large oak door proclaimed she’d found the correct office.
What did people do? Knock or just enter? To be on the safe side, she rapped on the door.
“Come on in.”
She did as bid and discovered a young man behind a desk, his light brown mustache twitching. “Can I help you?” The room was small and spartan. File cabinets and stacks of papers and books occupied most of the space.
“I would like to speak to Judge Kelley.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. But I won’t take up much of her time. I have one small favor to ask, that’s all.”
“I recognize your voice. You’re the woman who calls every day asking for the judge’s help with your daughter.”
Found out already. She dropped the pretense. “Please, I know I’ve come unannounced, but if I could just talk to her, just for a little bit, to make her understand, to plead my case.”
“For that you have to go to court.” The aide, tall and broad-shouldered, came to his feet. He’d probably been a football player at some point in his life. “I must ask you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I speak to the judge.”
“I will call security and have you removed from the premises.”
“Go ahead. By the time they arrive, I’ll have spoken my piece and left.”
“Mrs. Dowd.”
Good, he remembered her name.
“Be reasonable.”
“It’s unreasonable for me to be denied access to one of our government officials.”
“I’m warning you.” The color in his cheeks deepened. He took a step in her direction then another.
Perfect. She skirted by him and barged into the office. Before she shut the door, he was on the phone with the building’s guards. She didn’t have much time.
Again, the office was spartan. Nothing here that wasn’t utilitarian. A desk with a typewriter and a phone. File cabinets. Shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling and laden with leather-bound books with gold lettering. Amid it all sat the judge whose name Cecile had spied on several papers on Miss Tann’s desk. The name Mr. Vance had dropped at the park.
Judge Kelley wore her curly hair short, and a strand of pearls hung around her reddening neck. As she rose, she adjusted her round glasses. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Please, Your Honor, I have to speak to you for just a moment. You see, I’m Mrs. Cecile Dowd. Miss Tann came to my apartment two weeks ago and kidnapped my daughter from me then gave her to another family to adopt. My neighbor forged my signature on the relinquishment papers.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I believe you may have approved her adoption.”
The judge clenched her jaw and bellowed, “How did you find that out?”
Though Mr. Vance was a cad, it would be wrong of her to single him out and get him in trouble. “That’s not important. What is vital is that I get my daughter back. For that, I must have her records unsealed.”
“Not a chance.”
“But, please, no one else will help me.”
“And for good reason. You are an unfit mother. That’s why you lost your daughter. And that’s all I have to say on the matter. Good day, Mrs. Dowd.” Judge Kelley turned her back.
Cecile scampered in front of her. “Have some compassion. I love Millie. I have the means to take care of her. Help me.” No matter that she’d resorted to begging. Whatever it took to get Millie.
“Good day.”
A commotion sounded from the outer office, and two security guards in navy-blue uniforms entered. They each grabbed her by an arm, their grips like clamps.
“You’re hurting me. Let me go.”
“You are causing a disturbance.” They dragged her from the chambers, out of the office, and down the stairs. The entire way, she fought, squirmed, and wiggled like Millie. All in vain.
When they came to the main level, a police officer, the one from the park, waited in the hushed marble lobby. The fight drained from Cecile. She’d lost. Her one last, best chance vaporized.
“Disturbing the peace?” The officer nodded at the guards, his brimmed hat bobbing.
“Yes,” Judge Kelley’s aide answered from behind Cecile. She hadn’t heard him following probably because she was making such a fuss. He proceeded to describe what transpired.
“Very well. Mrs. Dowd, I’m citing you for disturbing the peace.” He pulled a notebook from his pocket and wrote the ticket. “You can pay the fine down at city hall.” He ripped the paper from his book and handed it to her.
When she saw the amount in black and white, she sucked in her breath. “I can’t afford this.”
“Probably why you lost custody of your daughter.”
She itched to slap the smart-mouthed aide. Instead, she clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from lashing out at him. The last thing she needed was another fine she couldn’t pay. Then again, it mattered very little. She’d run out of options for finding Millie. Except for one.
Chapter Six
Percy stood beside Miss Tann’s desk. The woman’s face glistened as she sweated in the early s
ummer heat, and he scrunched his nose at the rotten-egg stench emanating from her. Though the sun shone in the clear blue sky today, she kept her blinds drawn, the room dark, close, and foul.
“Just one more paper for you to sign, Miss Tann, and that will conclude our business for the week.” And lift a weight off his shoulders. Every time he entered this office, it pressed heavier on him.
With a flourish, she scrawled her name and slid the paper in his direction. He picked it up, thrust it in his briefcase, snapped it shut, and headed for the door.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
He stopped as he grasped the metal doorknob. “I’m not.”
“No chitchat today?”
“I do have matters to attend to, other clients I must complete work for.”
“But you’re dying to talk to me. I watched you, watched you grinding your teeth and clenching your lips. So spit it out.”
He whirled around and strode to her desk, plunking his briefcase on it. “There is a matter that has been bothering me.”
“And it has to do with that Dowd woman, doesn’t it?”
Was he that transparent or was she that perceptive? “Actually, it does. When she left here that day, I followed her.”
“You did, did you?” Tann pushed her chair back and crossed her legs in a less-than-ladylike fashion.
“And I had a conversation with her. An interesting one.”
“Do tell.”
“The first thing I discovered is that she’s far from uneducated. Mrs. Dowd is very intelligent, articulate, and astute.” A little too much for his taste. She saw right through him.
“And the second thing?”
“I also learned she loves her daughter a great deal. When we took the girl, Mrs. Dowd was going through a rough patch. Like we all do from time to time. She was out running errands and left Millie with a neighbor for a short time.”
Tann raised her mud-brown eyebrows. “And that’s something a smart woman would do? No. She can’t be trusted to handle her own affairs.”