The Pink Bonnet

by Tolsma, Liz;

  “Does that mean you’ll allow me to assist you?”

  Even in the dim light, he couldn’t mistake the steeliness that returned to her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m on the inside. I have access to information you won’t garner any other way.”

  “Or you could deceive me. Point me in the wrong direction. Or worse yet, let Miss Tann know I’m searching.”

  “I don’t know what to do to make you trust me, but I can tell you that I’m questioning Tann’s tactics at great personal risk.”

  “And when you decide it’s not worth the cost?”

  “There are some things, Mrs. Dowd, that are worth any cost.”

  She bit the corner of her lip for a moment. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

  “I’m your best hope.” Why was he so insistent with her? Just because she was beautiful and vulnerable? Or because it would mean redemption from his inability to come to Tenny’s rescue? Whatever the reason, she needed help, and he could provide it.

  “Well, I suppose, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me until we find her.”

  “If we do.”

  “I’ll try my level best to make that happen.”

  “I’m still scared.”

  “Just take it one step at a time.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “Do you have a plan?”

  “I do. I have to get into the records in Miss Tann’s office. Have a peek at Millie’s file and see what I can glean. That might be enough to at least give us a clue as to her whereabouts. Which orphanage Millie might have been sent to, if she was sent to one. A starting point, if nothing else.”

  “I’m going with you.” She set her mouth in a hard, straight line.

  “No, I can’t allow you. There’s too much risk. All you need is a criminal record for breaking and entering, and you’ll never see your daughter again.”

  She licked her lips and drew in a deep breath. “This is my child we’re talking about. Don’t you understand? Any risk I have to take to bring Millie home is worth it. She’s everything to me. Besides, how do I know you’ll really look? You might say you did and then never follow through. Until I can trust you, Mr. Vance, you’re going to have to put up with me. And I’m willing to do it, no matter the cost.”

  “While I like this side of you better than the one that listened to Miss Tann’s lies, I still don’t want you to come.”

  “I have to. This is my child. First and foremost, it is my search.” Her voice cracked.

  “Is there nothing I can say that will dissuade you?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” She straightened her shoulders. “Like I said, I don’t trust you.”

  He swallowed. “I’ll do whatever I can to protect you, but I cannot guarantee your personal safety.”

  “I know you can’t.”

  The heat and humidity enveloped him, sending a trickle of sweat down the side of his face. “Let’s go now, then, while the office is vacant.”

  As Cecile and Mr. Vance left Elmwood Cemetery, a misty fog clung to the graceful elms and abundance of magnolias, shrouding them in a hazy film. Not a breath of wind stirred the branches, not an animal howled in the night.

  Underneath her feet, the debris of last year’s leaves squished. Her fingertips tingled.

  He guided her through the graveyard by pressing on the small of her back. The heat of his hand sent warmth radiating throughout her.

  “Are you okay? Sure you want to go through with this? I can do it alone.”

  No, she’d go, even though her heart sped along in her chest. “I’m fine.” But when a branch snapped behind them, she just about jumped as high as the treetops. “What was that?”

  “Probably nothing more than a squirrel.”

  Yes, he was right. No one followed them. No one watched them. The branch snapped again. She grabbed Percy by the arm. “That was more than a squirrel.”

  “Do you want me to check it out?”

  “No.” She’d answered too fast. He’d think her a coward. Then again, he’d leave her alone here if he went to investigate. And that she couldn’t have. She slowed her tongue. “No, probably another squirrel.”

  “Yes.”

  Did his voice warble? Her imagination had to be getting the better of her. “Let’s just get out of here as fast as possible.”

  He chuckled, rich and deep, so different from Nathaniel’s tenor laugh, and patted her hand as she clutched his bicep. “I’m in total agreement.”

  She released her grasp.

  As they approached the entrance, a breeze stirred the fog around their feet. They crossed the bridge and strolled underneath the wrought-iron sign supported by two large pillars.

  Cecile puffed out a breath as they exited onto Dudley Street.

  “Nervous?”

  “Are you?”

  He nodded.

  “Thanks for the reassurance.”

  “Anytime.”

  His attempt at levity didn’t manage to melt away any of her tension.

  “If you’d like, there is still the chance for you to go home. I’ll meet you in the morning and let you know what I discover.”

  “No. I’m coming.” Once she pulled her cloche down on her head, she ambled beside him. A Buick rumbled down the road and passed out of sight, but nothing else stirred on the street. The night deepened. Here and there, a few men who’d had a little too much to drink, despite Prohibition, stumbled onto the street. Mr. Vance drew her to his side. She hadn’t been this near a man since Nathaniel died. She breathed in his scent, a musky cologne, and huddled a little closer. And that was nice. A little too nice. She pulled away.

  “I’m sorry. I overstepped.” His voice was deep.

  “No, not at all.” But yes.

  “It’s late, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Thank you. I do appreciate that.” And she did.

  They arrived at the Goodwyn Institute, a place she’d become too familiar with the past few weeks. From across the street, they studied the darkened building. The mist now turned into a light drizzle. A small light bobbed by one of the ground-level windows.

  “How do you propose we get in?”

  Mr. Vance fiddled with the knot on his tie. “There’s a night watchman. That’s his flashlight.” He pointed at one of the windows. “I’ll spin a yarn that will allow us access.”

  “And when we’re inside?”

  “Do you know how to pick a lock?”

  She leaned away from him and raised her eyebrows. “Do I look like the kind of woman who would have such a skill?”

  “One thing at a time then.” He led her across the street and up to the front door, where he knocked.

  After several minutes of rapping on the glass, the guard appeared. “Can I help you?”

  Mr. Vance cleared his throat. Cecile wouldn’t have been able to speak if she’d wanted to. “I work for Miss Tann and the Tennessee Children’s Home Society. They have offices on the fifth floor here.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” The rotund, bulgy-eyed man spotlighted them in his torch. She stepped behind Mr. Vance.

  “I left an important file in Miss Tann’s office. My girlfriend and I are on our way home from the picture show and stopped by so I could retrieve it.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, no one is allowed in the building after hours.”

  Cecile’s heart thrummed in her ears so that she had a difficult time making out Mr. Vance’s words. “Can’t you make an exception this time? I must have that file to study tonight. It’s very important.”

  “I don’t care how important it is. You shouldn’t have left it.”

  “You’re right, I shouldn’t have. I’ve learned my lesson. That’s why if you could just let us in—”

  “I said no, and that’s what I mean.” The watchman moved to close the door.

  Cecile couldn’t allow this opportunity to slip through their fingers. If Millie hadn’t been adopted yet, she soon would be. And once that
happened, all hope of finding her would vaporize. She pushed on the door to keep him from shutting it. “Please, sir, it’s crucial to my husband’s career.”

  He quirked his gray eyebrows. “Husband, you say?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He turned to Mr. Vance. “I thought you said she was your girlfriend.”

  All the stiffness seeped from Cecile’s bones, and she leaned against Mr. Vance for support. What had she done?

  “Get out of here before I call the police. There’s been enough trouble at Miss Tann’s office lately.” Caused by Cecile.

  Mr. Vance leaned in. “We’ll go. But please, don’t tell Miss Tann we were here.”

  “It’s my job to report any incidents during my shift. You bet she’ll find out.”

  Chapter Eight

  Heat permeated the house even though Gladys Knowles had only just stoked the fire in the stove. It would be a scorcher today, for sure. “Fanny, come get breakfast.”

  The brown-haired child shuffled her way in from the lean-to Willard had turned into a room, such as it was, for Fanny when they adopted her a few weeks ago.

  “I made you oatmeal. Eat up.”

  The child’s permanent frown didn’t change. Instead, she stomped her little foot. “No oatmeal. I wanna go home.”

  Gladys slopped the gruel into the bowl and, with a sigh, returned the pot to the stove. “For the millionth time, this is your home. We’re done with this nonsense. I won’t abide it no more, Fanny.”

  “I not Fanny.”

  “Do you want another whoopin’? Don’t let Pa hear you say that.”

  “He’s not Pa.”

  “One more word from you, and there won’t be no breakfast. Now hush your mouth and eat.”

  With her green eyes wide, Fanny stared at the bowl then at Gladys and back again.

  “You’ll want to eat it all. We have washing to do today. That’s hard work.”

  Fanny struggled to pull the chair from the table and at last sat. At least she didn’t mouth off while she ate. Gladys allowed herself to relax. If Willard caught Fanny saying this weren’t her home and that weren’t her name, he’d beat her for sure. Gladys couldn’t stand no more of that. After all, it wasn’t the kid’s fault if she was all mixed up. She’d been living on the Memphis streets, fending for herself for a long time. Poor mite, she was so itty bitty for five. She’d probably long ago forgotten her real name. If she’d ever had one.

  Gladys cleared the empty bowl and the drained glass of milk. “That’s the way to be good. Go put on your overalls on and let’s get to work.”

  Shoulders slumped, Fanny dragged on the way out as much as on the way in. While she dressed, Gladys boiled the water for the washing and shaved soap into the pot. Fanny returned to the room within a few minutes, her pants on backward and the straps not looped over her shoulders.

  At the same time, Willard blew through the back door, the screen slapping behind him. He took one look at Fanny and went red in the face. “What’s this?” He yanked on her overalls. “Can’t you even dress yerself? What good are you?” He raised his hand to strike her.

  Before he could land the blow, Gladys grabbed him. “Leave her be. She don’t know no better. I’ll help her.”

  “She’s supposed to be helping you. I got Quinn in the barn for me, and we got Fanny for you. If she can’t dress herself, what use is she? We spent a lot of money for her.” He spat a stream of tobacco on the floor. Another chore for Fanny.

  “Lemme worry about her. You got enough on your mind with the farm. She’s fine and smart as a whip. In no time, she’ll get the hang of things. Give her a chance.”

  “Don’t coddle her, Gladys. She ain’t here to be a plaything. She’s here to work.”

  “I know. Don’t you worry none. You sit and have a cup of coffee, and I’ll take care of her. The washing’s ready to be done.”

  He took a seat at the table, calm for the moment. If’n it could only stay that way. She filled his mug with strong black joe then took Fanny to the lean-to. Nothing in here other than a thin mattress, a blanket, and a few hooks with a couple of items of clothing.

  “Now you gotta learn how to get dressed. A big girl like you should know how to do this.” For the third time that week, Gladys showed Fanny how the clasps needed to be on the front and how to hook them. She finger-combed the child’s short, straight locks. “There you be. Let’s get that washing done.”

  She set Fanny to scrubbing the clothes on the washboard. It sure was nice to have a helping hand. Willard and that Tann lady were right. It was good for everyone. Gladys got someone to work with her, and Fanny got a roof over her head and a family, something she hadn’t known before.

  “My arms hurt.” Fanny’s whiny voice echoed off the rustic cabin walls.

  “We just hardly got started. Better keep scrubbing. Pa and Quinn get their clothes mighty dirty working all day like they do.”

  “Owie.”

  Gladys gazed at the child and narrowed her eyes. “No more bellyaching. You’re a big girl, all of five years old.”

  “I’m three.”

  “You ain’t no such thing. Miss Tann told us you’re five.” Though Fanny was very tiny for a child of that age. Had Miss Tann lied to them? No, there weren’t no reason for her to. They’d asked for a girl about five or so, and that’s what they’d gotten.

  “Momma says I three.”

  “That’s enough. You don’t want Pa to hear you.”

  Fanny pinched her lips shut and kept on scrubbing. Once they had all the clothes cleaned, Gladys piled them in a wicker basket and carried them outside. A warm wind sliced through her thin dress. The child wore those hot pants. Willard done said she’d be fine.

  Gladys knew when to keep her mouth shut. Been many a time when she hadn’t, and she’d learned the hard way Willard didn’t tolerate no back talk from no one.

  “You hand me Quinn’s pants.” Gladys pulled two clothespins from a bag.

  Fanny struggled with the pair of dungarees she pulled from the basket. They were longer than she was tall. The cuffs dragged in the bare ground.

  “Fanny, what’re you doing? Now we gotta wash those again.”

  Willard popped out of the barn and strode across the yard. He whacked the child on the back of the head. “Do your work right, you hear me?”

  Fanny stared at the ground, but her eyes watered. “Yes.”

  He pulled her by the arm. “That’s ‘yes, sir’ to you. And I’m gonna teach you to remember that from now on. Gladys, get me a switch.”

  “Really, Willard, it ain’t a big deal. Won’t take but a minute to clean.”

  “You’ll have to redo all the laundry the way she’s going.” His blue eyes turned cold. “I said to get me a switch, woman. And don’t wait for the Second Coming to fetch it.”

  Gladys’s mouth went dry. No child should be beaten. But unless she wanted the sting of the branch on her back, she had to obey. With the knife in her apron pocket, she cut a thin twig from the willow tree near the creek behind the house and brought it to Willard.

  He dragged Fanny toward the barn, the child already kicking and screaming like a wild bronco. Once he shut the door, a bunch of thwacks came from inside. Fanny screeched like a rabbit got by a hawk. What had Gladys done?

  “Good afternoon, Griggs.”

  R.D. startled from the ledger where he’d been scheduling court cases, his pen leaving a line across the page. Bother, he’d have to start over. He peered through his glasses and the teller-like bars across his window. “Mr. Vance.” They’d grown up together. Vance was nothing but poor white trash who’d gotten an education and sold his soul to the highest bidder. And now R.D. was hearing plenty about the trouble the young lawyer was getting himself into. “What brings you by?”

  “I have a matter to discuss with you, one of some importance and delicacy.”

  “I can well imagine.”

  Vance glanced around and jingled a few coins in his pocket. “Is there somewhere we can speak i
n private?”

  This man was out of his mind if he thought R.D. was going to get sucked into his dealings. No one wanted to be on the wrong side of Tann and Crump. Especially not someone in R.D.’s position. He’d had nothing to do with Percy Vance when they were growing up, and he’d have nothing to do with him now. “I have no interest in what you have to say.”

  “I’ll make it worth your while. Just hear me out.”

  The worth-your-while bit caught R.D.’s attention. Having a child was an expensive proposition, especially with a mother like Darcy. “Fine. Just give me a minute.” R.D. closed his schedule book and wove his way through the maze of desks where secretaries of various sizes and ages plunked away on typewriters. The ding of the machines’ bells followed him out of the office.

  “Come with me.” R.D. led the way down the hall. He didn’t get far before Vance yanked him by the arm into a small janitor’s closet and closed the door.

  “What on earth?” The walls threatened to press in on R.D., and a bead of sweat broke out on his forehead. The eye-watering odor of cleaning solution and musty mops churned his stomach.

  “When I said it was a private matter, I wasn’t kidding. No one must know of this, no one at all. Do you understand?” Vance’s breath was hot on R.D.’s cheek.

  A small tremor passed through R.D. He braced himself against the wall in a vain attempt to keep it from closing in on him. Vance’s pa had been a bully. Looked like it ran in the family. “Get to the point.”

  “I’m trying to locate a missing child.”

  “Why would I be able to help you with a runaway kid?”

  “Miss Georgia Tann from the Tennessee Children’s Home Society forced a woman’s neighbor to forge her signature relinquishing her daughter for adoption. Kidnapped a child. Took her without the mother’s permission. Refuses to disclose Millie’s location. The girl should never have been removed from the home. A loving one, I might add. We want to find her. I need to get into the records.”

  “Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind? No one can see those.”

  Percy pulled out a picture of a woman and a very young child no more than a year old. R.D. leaned closer. His breath clogged his throat. Round face. Darkish hair. It couldn’t be. Just couldn’t be. No, the child in the photo was much too young. Pearl was three.