by Tolsma, Liz;
“Okay.” Pearl trotted off, her brown curls bouncing as she went.
How was it possible to love a child so much after just a few weeks? He rubbed his wife’s back. “Sweetheart, I’m sure you don’t have anything to worry about. How can they object to us when we’ve given Pearl such a comfortable home? She has toys, a room of her own, two parents who love her. What more could a child ask?”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. I don’t know who’s spreading these vicious rumors, but when Miss Tann visits, she will discover they are baseless.” He handed her his handkerchief. “Dry your eyes, and I’ll check on our girl. We’ll be down to eat in a minute.”
Darcy kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I love you.”
“And I love you.” He left her working on her crusty bread, the yeasty perfume of it urging him to hurry, and climbed the stairs to Pearl’s room. When he pushed open her door, he found her perched on her pink chenille-covered bed, a crayon in her hand. And her artwork scribbled all over the plastered wall.
“Pearl! What have you done?”
“I colored.” She grasped the blue crayon in her chubby fingers.
“Not on the walls. You have to ask Mommy for a piece of paper.” He moved forward to catch her, but the imp scampered away and hid under the bed.
He lifted the bedspread and peeked underneath. “Come on out, Miss Muffet. Lunch is almost ready. You don’t want burned stew, do you?”
“No, I wanna color.”
He dropped the bed covering and rounded to the other side. But when he went to his knees and peered underneath, Pearl had moved across from him. “Let’s go, sweetheart. After we eat, we’ll get you some paper for coloring.”
“No. I wanna color now.”
He would wait it out. Over the past days, he and Darcy had discovered that was the best way to handle Pearl. Eventually, she came around.
As he lay on the floor and examined her, he studied her features, searching for any part of her that resembled the photo of Mrs. Dowd’s child. Did she and Pearl have the same nose? How about the same mouth? The chin rang a bell of familiarity.
But really, he was no good at this. When parents gushed over their children and proclaimed them to have their father’s forehead or their mother’s eyes, he never could see it.
What if Miss Tann took Pearl? Or what if she turned out to be Mrs. Dowd’s child? The loss would kill Darcy. And him. No matter what, he had to protect his little family and do everything in his power to keep them together. No matter what, he couldn’t allow Vance and the woman to ever see Pearl or find out she was adopted through the Tennessee Children’s Home Society.
The doorbell chimed a two-note ding-dong. Footsteps raced across the house downstairs. A moment later, Darcy climbed the stairs and into the room. “Miss Tann is here.”
As Percy and Cecile stood elbow-deep in adoption files, a great crash of thunder shook the entire Goodwyn Institute, and the lights flickered and faded.
He licked his lips. Cecile gasped.
From the hallway, Miss Stewart screamed.
He turned to Cecile, silhouetted against the window. “Stay quiet.”
She nodded.
This might be the perfect opportunity to get out unseen.
“Hello? Hello? Does anyone have a flashlight? Or candles?” Miss Stewart’s voice came from the hall.
No one answered.
A moment later, the click of her heels faded away.
“Grab that folder, and let’s get out of here.” Percy shut the drawer with as little noise as possible.
Cecile stuffed the folder in her purse. “I hope they don’t miss it.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Thankful for the carpeting that silenced their footsteps, Percy led her through Tann’s office and the secretary’s to the main door. He clung to her hand, delicate and warm.
He cracked open the door and peered into the hall, not that he could see much in the darkness. If only his heart didn’t pound so, he might hear if anyone moved about.
As far as he could tell, all was silent.
The tile floors outside the office presented more of a problem. He led Cecile as they tip-toed down the hall. At one point, he stepped flat on his foot, the heel of his wingtip connecting with the marble tile.
“Is someone there?” Miss Stewart was on the opposite side of the building.
Percy didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare move. Cecile squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Miss Stewart giggled. “This storm is getting to me. And now I’m talking to myself.” She opened a door, took a few steps, and shut the door.
“Now.” Percy made tracks, dashing the rest of the way down the hall and into the ghoulish blackness of the stairwell.
Behind him, Cecile huffed. “That was close.”
“A little too close. But we made it. We can wait out the storm here.”
“What if Miss Tann returns from lunch?”
“Have you seen her? She won’t take the stairs.”
“But with the electricity out, she may have no choice.”
“She’ll wait for service to be restored. We can’t chance meeting her in the lobby.”
“Good point.” Cecile sat on the step, and he took his place beside her.
“I can’t believe it.” Her words were little more than a whisper. She leaned against him.
“That we escaped from there?”
“That I’m not the only one to lose a child to that horrible woman.”
A pain radiated from behind Percy’s left eye. “Unfortunately, you aren’t.”
“It’s almost too much to bear.”
He touched her hand. “I know. Her wickedness knows no bounds.” If Tann discovered what he just did, she would blackball him for sure, and his clientele would evaporate until he had no practice left. When that happened, he wouldn’t be able to afford his mortgage. Or his car. Or any of the fine amenities he’d become accustomed to. Life would change. And not for the better.
He would have to figure that out later. Right now, Cecile needed him.
“If all those other women are searching, that means no one has been able to locate their missing children.”
“We don’t know that.” He couldn’t allow her to give up hope, though the extent of Tann’s deception was staggering.
“Will any of us ever see our children again?”
“How can I answer that? I wish I could gaze into the future and tell you that you will, but it’s a promise I’m unable to make.”
“My poor, poor baby.” Cecile sniffled. “All those poor, poor babies. God help every one of them.” She turned into the crook of his arm and sobbed, her shoulders heaving.
He stroked her silky hair. As more thunder and wind shuddered the building, they sat on the steps, and he allowed her time to weep.
A lump grew in his own throat. Tann probably sold the children to the highest bidder. So many families destroyed by one woman’s greed. So many children harmed by her deceit. And this woman beside him, her life ruined by a cruel, unfeeling despot.
He rubbed Cecile’s back until her sobs subsided then ceased. “Something good might come of this, you know.”
She slid out of his hold. “I don’t see how.”
“We can reach out to these women and see if any of them have been searching for their children. Perhaps together we can locate them and reunite some families.”
“Oh, we could. This might be the break we’ve been waiting for.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving me a sliver of hope, small as it may be.”
What he kept from telling her was that the hope was very, very tiny.
Chapter Twelve
With Pearl in his arms, R.D. descended the stairs to the living room, where a rather damp Miss Tann sat on the navy-blue wing chair, the walnut coffee table and end tables polished to a high shine, the hardwood floors gleaming. Even the blue and mauve Orienta
l rug beneath her feet was spotless. Tann wouldn’t be able to fault his wife for a messy house.
Pearl squirmed. “I wanna play.”
No chance he was going to let this imp loose. “Remember, we’re going to talk to Miss Tann for a while, and you must behave like a lady.”
She stuck out her lower lip but nodded. Perhaps he and Darcy were making headway in taming the child.
He turned his attention to Miss Tann. “I must say, this is a surprise.”
She smoothed her shirt over her midsection but narrowed her eyes, her round glasses resting on her hawkish nose. “You should have been expecting me.”
Darcy entered the room, carrying a teapot and cups painted with purple violets atop a silver tray. She set it down, poured the spice-laden tea, and handed a cup to Miss Tann before settling on the sofa beside him and Pearl.
He cleared his throat and prayed his voice wouldn’t break. “What can we help you with?”
“You know why I’m here.” The tundra in January was warmer than her words.
“I’m afraid I don’t.” Hail clinked against the windows.
Pearl wriggled between him and Darcy. “I wanna go play. Please?”
Miss Tann leaned forward in her chair. “You go on, sweetheart, and let us grown-ups talk in peace. Play quietly, now.”
Beside him, Darcy stiffened. Miss Tann shouldn’t be telling their child what to do.
R.D. clenched his hands together. “Come to your point, Miss Tann, as soon as possible. I have to return to work.”
“A work that now involves Mr. Vance, does it not? What did he want with you?”
“To get a case of his moved back on the docket. He needed more time to prepare.”
“And that had to be discussed in secret?” She leaned forward.
“He thought it did.” R.D. clung to the edge of the sofa cushion. “I don’t see how what I do as part of my job is any of your business.”
“When it affects the children I place for adoption, I make it my business.”
R.D. worked to keep his words polite but firm. “As I said, this didn’t involve adoption records.”
“But you did go to the courthouse in the middle of the night.”
How did she know? Had he been followed? Impossible. He’d been so careful, cautious, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. These goons had spies on every street corner. That was the only way anyone could have known what he was doing. He wiped the beads of sweat from his upper lip.
“Come, come, Mr. Griggs. Don’t play me for the fool.” Miss Tann set her teacup on the end table. “You and I both know what went on in that records room. And it will cost you. Greatly.”
Goose bumps broke out on his arms.
Darcy stifled a sob. “Please, Miss Tann, I have no idea what this is about, but I don’t appreciate your threats. My husband works for the courts and has every right to pull whatever records he needs. It all sounds perfectly innocent.”
“Innocent?” Miss Tann gave a single guffaw. “Hardly.” She directed her attention to R.D., and her tone turned stony. “Were you trying to get into your daughter’s adoption records? Or someone else’s?”
Darcy grabbed him by the arm. “Were you?”
“No. I swear to you, I wasn’t. Why would I do a thing like that? I— We love our daughter. Pearl is ours and no one else’s. I would never do anything to jeopardize her position in our family.”
Miss Tann crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “I gave you Pearl, and I have the power to take her away.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Darcy shook him by the arm. “Tell her you would never let that happen. Show her what good parents we are. That we’re teaching Pearl good manners. We’re civilizing her. Isn’t that the goal of adoption?”
Miss Tann hoisted herself from the chair. “Perhaps I should see for myself.”
Darcy jumped up. “Take a look around. You won’t find anything amiss.”
Tann lumbered around the first floor, and his wife was correct. You couldn’t find a single flaw in the way she kept house or in the food she prepared. Everything was just as it should be.
The woman proceeded to the stairs, winded by the time she reached the upper landing. “Which is the child’s room?”
Darcy pointed to the first door on the right. As Miss Tann turned the glass knob on the three-panel door, R.D.’s heart came to a full and complete stop. The coloring on the wall. He hadn’t had a chance to tell his wife about it or to clean it. He slid between Tann and the door. “You can’t go in there.”
Darcy puffed out a breath. “Why not? This is where Pearl sleeps and plays. Miss Tann will see she has plenty of toys. That her adoption is what is best for her.”
“I’ll determine if it is.” Tann pushed R.D. to the side. He allowed her to enter the room.
She took a moment to study the drawings on the wall. In the time they’d been downstairs, Pearl had added to them. She now stood in the middle of the room, a big brown crayon grasped in her little fingers.
“What is this?”
R.D. tsked. “Pearl is a work in progress.”
Tann turned to him, nose to nose. She reeked of garlic.
“This may be cause for removal of the child from your home. Obviously, you cannot properly supervise her. She isn’t safe here.”
“No!” Darcy pushed Tann by the shoulder to turn her to face her. “You will not take my daughter from me. She’s not perfect. None of us are. But she’s loved and cared for. As she grows, she’ll learn right from wrong. I’ll never let you take her.”
“We’ll have to see about that.”
Pink had yet to streak the eastern sky when Cecile locked her apartment and made her way down the building’s old, creaky stairs. Hundreds, thousands of hand rubbings had left the varnished banister smooth as glass.
Some may groan and complain about rising so early, but it mattered little to her. Sleep came hard and left fast.
Percy was going to meet her at the nursery school this morning with the phone number of one of the women they discovered in the file. Her heart fluttered at the thought of having to call the mother and speak to her about her loss. But from the letter, it was clear she wanted her daughter back. Perhaps together they could find the answers.
At this early hour, the streets lay desolate and deserted. Off in the distance, a cat screeched, and a dog howled. The click of her two-toned oxford shoes on the pavement resounded in the quiet. She rounded the corner onto the main street and bumped into something. No, someone, who stumbled backward. She grabbed him by the arm.
“Hello, little lady.” His body reeked of sweat. His breath reeked of alcohol.
She let go and sidestepped him.
“Where’re you going?”
Cecile hurried on her way, trembling all over. She hustled down the street, away from him, and didn’t stop until she rounded another corner and leaned against the building’s rough brick. Her insides caught up with her a few minutes later. As the milkman passed her in his Ford truck, he waved to her. She managed a small smile. Steadier now, she continued the few blocks to the nursery school.
When she approached the white brick building that had once been a home, Percy was nowhere in sight. No matter. She’d go inside and wait for him. She unlocked the black front door and entered. At the sight inside, she clutched her throat. Tables lay overturned, chairs thrown around the room, drawers pulled from Mrs. Quinn’s desk. Like a layer of confetti after a ticker-tape parade, papers covered the floor.
Who did this? And why?
She stepped over broken crayons and upset glue bottles. The children’s artwork had been torn from the wall. Her stomach jumped into her throat. Was the person who vandalized the room still in the building? Maybe it wasn’t safe here.
As if playing leapfrog, she hopped around the obstacles and out the door. If her heart kept pounding at this rate, she would pass away from cardiac arrest sooner rather than later.
She darted across the street, a car hoot-hooting its horn at
her. Breath coming in ragged gasps, she clung to the light pole for support.
“Cecile?”
At the sound of her name, she just about jumped as high as the building. “Percy. What are you trying to do to me?”
“What’s wrong? You’re as white as a mountain’s snow.”
She turned to him and held him tight. How good to have him near. To have his strength to depend on. “It’s awful. I went in there. Who could have done such a terrible thing?”
“Okay, take a deep breath.”
She obeyed.
“I didn’t understand any of what you just said. Start from the beginning.”
“I can’t describe it. Someone, someone ransacked the nursery. Maybe he’s still inside.”
“Let’s have a look.”
“No.” She tightened her hold to keep him from leaving her. “Please, it’s too dangerous. We need to inform the police.”
“Just a peek inside. You stay here, and I’ll let you know if the coast is clear.”
She couldn’t allow him out of her sight. Couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him.
He was the only hope she had in the world of finding Millie. “I’m coming.”
“You said yourself it might be dangerous.”
“That’s probably true. But if you can go, so can I.”
“You’re a plucky dame.” He untangled himself from her grasp and held her at arm’s length. For a forever-long moment, he gazed at her, all the laughter gone from his storm-cloud blue eyes. And just like that, the moment ended. He cleared his throat. “Come on.”
She followed him across the street and into the nursery yard. He stopped without warning, and she ran into his back. “Sorry.”
He swung open the door to reveal the full horror. “Oh no.”
The early-morning humidity pressed against Cecile, and she broke into a sweat. Much as she had done, he picked his way through the mess in the classroom. He halted in front of the bulletin board.
She sidled next to him. “Oh my goodness.”
The vandal had tacked a note to the board with a long-handled knife. He’d spilled red paint down it to resemble blood. Most chilling of all were the words.