The Pink Bonnet

by Tolsma, Liz;

  Of course. But not this. If they ran, Tann would hunt them down. “Miss Tann hasn’t been back, has she?”

  Darcy shook her head.

  And she hadn’t contacted him either. “See, then she wasn’t serious about taking Pearl. A good social worker will follow up on her placements. That’s all she was doing. She has enough experience with children to know that sometimes they are mischievous.”

  “Are you sure?” She crinkled her slender nose.

  “I wouldn’t take any chances when it comes to our Pearl, you know that.”

  She rested against his shoulder, still sniffling. “Promise me though, that if there is the slightest hint from Miss Tann that she is coming for Pearl, we will leave here and go far away.”

  Maybe she was right. Maybe they did need a plan just in case. “I promise, darling.”

  Throughout the long, hot afternoon, Cecile rode beside Percy in his dark green Packard, the wind whipping her hair and cooling her cheeks as they raced across the plains, then climbed the treecovered mountains and whizzed down the other side. She clung to the door handle until her fingers burned.

  This had to be Millie. Just had to be. With her free hand, she rubbed the bonnet ribbon on her wrist, now frayed, discolored, and worn from how often she grasped it. God had dropped this lead into their laps. Wasn’t that the way He worked? Cecile was just hours away from holding Millie in her arms.

  How she ached for her daughter. Once they were together, Cecile would be complete and would have everything she needed.

  She dared to peer at Percy, who was intent on the winding mountain road in front of them. Another one of God’s blessings. Through his work, they had come this far. When this ordeal came to an end, she would miss him. Miss his strength, his camaraderie, his tender care for her. The only truly good thing about this city. Because there was no way she was going to stay in Memphis, within Miss Tann’s reach.

  Perhaps she would go home. Maybe Momma and Daddy would welcome her with open arms and accept their grandchild. Who wouldn’t be swayed by Millie’s sweet, round face and her beautiful green eyes?

  Tomorrow, they would go to their apartment and grab their few items. Cecile would empty her savings account and purchase two train tickets to Massachusetts. Maybe Percy would even come with them. Since he was helping her regain custody of Millie, he was sure to lose his job with Tann.

  No. What was she thinking? That was crazy. But she would miss him.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  “No one’s following us.” Percy didn’t break his concentration on the road.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’ve been watching ever since we pulled away from my house. No one is back there. No one knows where we are going or why.”

  “Ever since that note at the school, I can’t stop myself from looking behind me every couple of minutes. I’ve even been dipping into the money I had set aside for a new dress to take the tram to work, so I’m always in public.”

  “Good idea.”

  “And you’re sure there’s no one back there?”

  “Positive. You can release your grip on the handle. You won’t have feeling in your fingers by the time we arrive.”

  She chuckled and forced herself to relax her hold. “How much longer?”

  “A few more hours. Why don’t you get some rest?”

  “I could never sleep. I’m too excited.”

  For a second, he switched his focus from the road to her. “Don’t get your hopes too high. We have no guarantee this is Millie.”

  “But it could be. Hope is what I live, breathe, and eat these days. It’s all I have.” And in the last few hours, it had blossomed, perhaps more than she should have allowed it to. But she might be able to get Millie. To hold her, kiss her, tell her again how desperately she loved her.

  “I understand, but I would hate to see you disappointed.” He stroked the top of her left hand, Nathaniel’s thin gold wedding band still encircling her finger. “I’ll pray this child is yours.”

  Could it be that Percy cared about her? And why did that send her heart into a schoolgirl pitter-pat rhythm? She was being silly, nothing more. Right now, she had to concentrate on Millie, on rebuilding the life she had with her child.

  “You said once Millie was your only family, but you weren’t ready to talk about it. Are you now?”

  “Not really. My parents disowned me. They didn’t like Nathaniel, but he was a good man. His only crime was being a dreamer. And that’s all I really want to say.”

  “Thanks for sharing that with me. I won’t press you.” A good number of miles passed before Percy broke the silence. “How are things at the school?”

  “Nice way to distract me.”

  He grinned. “I try.”

  “Fine. The mess is cleaned, and we’ve reopened. I’m thankful to still have a job, since there was talk about closing it.” With any of God’s grace though, she wouldn’t need it after tonight.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Do you think whoever did it will return?”

  “Let’s pray not.”

  So she did.

  The miles passed with excruciating slowness. Why did Memphis have to be so far from Chattanooga? She’d never been there but had always imagined it to be much closer than this.

  Talk about storming the gates of heaven. For the rest of the drive, that’s what Cecile did, begging and pleading with God in every conceivable fashion to let this child be her Millie.

  Would she be scared? Confused? Happy? What an upsetting time it might be for her. Lord, let her remember me. Don’t let me frighten her, but fill her with joy at seeing me again.

  In the midst of her petitions, she must have dozed, because Percy shook her awake. “We’re here.” He’d parked near a street corner, in front of a filling station, a wooden phone booth with glass doors leaning against it.

  She blinked a couple of times to get her bearings. The glass globes on top of the gas pumps glowed in the dying light. In a diner, patrons seated next to the windows spooned in mouthfuls of the daily special. Scattered businesses dotted the area, few people left inside to work as the evening drew near. The neighborhood wasn’t residential, that was for sure. “This is where the Friedmans live?”

  “No. We’ll look them up in the telephone book and then find their house. I’ll be right back.”

  True to his word, Percy flipped through the phone directory, scribbled on a piece of paper, studied something in the front of the book, and returned to the car. “Got it.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “You have it? Can I hold it?” She cringed at her own strange request.

  But Percy gave her a soft smile and handed her the paper. “They aren’t too far. I think I know where they live.” He turned over the engine, and they motored through the lamplit streets for a while before turning onto a tranquil, tree-lined street boasting Craftsman and porch-fronted Southern Colonial homes.

  “This is a nice area.” Millie will have been well cared for here. Maybe she wouldn’t want to leave. Perhaps it was wrong for Cecile to take her away from the privileges she would have growing up in a home like this.

  Percy squeezed her hand. “She’ll be so happy to see you. Remember what you once told me?”

  She shook her head, her throat too thick to speak.

  “Love is the most important thing.”

  She squeezed his hand back. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  He didn’t release his hold on her as he drove down the peaceful road, one man out walking his little white poodle. The area offered spacious two-story homes set on larger lots at the base of Lookout Mountain. Such a beautiful area.

  Percy braked in front of one of the homes. A red front door cut through the evening darkness, beckoning them forward. Percy came around to her side and held the door open.

  And she couldn’t move, like she was paralyzed. “What if—”

  “Don’t play what-if games.” Though soft, his voice was stern. “You
don’t need the ticket until you get to the train.”

  She filled her lungs with oxygen to keep from fainting then slid from the auto. He clasped her hand, and together they strode up the walk.

  He pressed the bell, and in short order, a man with straight, dark hair and chocolate eyes opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  Percy, ever the lawyer, took over. “Please forgive the lateness of this visit. I’m Attorney Percy Vance from Memphis. I believe you adopted a child through the Tennessee Children’s Home Society recently.”

  The man gave a slow nod. A young woman, her raven hair in waves around her shoulders, came up behind him. “What is this about, Adolph?”

  “Ma’am.” Percy tipped his walker-style hat. “I’m a lawyer with the Tennessee Children’s Home Society. I must see your daughter.”

  “Daughters. We adopted two. And you want to see them at this hour?” Mr. Friedman frowned.

  “This is a routine follow-up.”

  He stuck to the script they’d devised together on the way here. “Didn’t you get a phone call?”

  Mrs. Friedman stepped aside. “Please, won’t you come in? Let me get you some coffee. And no, we didn’t receive a telephone call about any visit.”

  Percy nudged Cecile inside ahead of him. “My apologies. There must have been some sort of mix-up. And my apologies for the lateness of the hour. We had some issues with the car.”

  The gracious home was neat and well kept. Light-colored area rugs covered the dark wood floors. End tables flanked a deep red davenport, which faced a brick fireplace. A brass menorah held sway over the mantel.

  Cecile rubbed her upper arms. Maybe Miss Tann was correct. Maybe it was best to leave Millie where she was.

  While she was lost in her thoughts, Percy must have been speaking, because she came out of them as Mr. Friedman said, “We understand. I’ll get the girls.”

  Cecile sat on the edge of the well-cushioned sofa then stood, then sat once more. She wiped her damp palms on her straight, blue skirt.

  And then, at the top of the stairs, appeared a sleepy-eyed, brown-haired girl in a white nightgown.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Are you sure about this?” Gladys leaned out the window of the Chevy pickup truck, her best light blue Sinamay weave cloche hat perched on her head. She eyed Willard and Fanny as they stood on the side of the dusty road in front of the house. Was she doing the right thing leaving them alone together?

  Willard tugged on his blue overalls. “’Course I am. You already done fed us breakfast, and Fanny can make us some lunch.” He pulled the scrawny, wide-eyed child close to his side.

  “I don’t know. Are you sure you two will get along while I’m gone to Miz Brewster’s tea?”

  “ ’Course we will. It’ll give me a chance to get to know the girl better. Won’t it, Fanny?” He squeezed her till she squeaked.

  The girl chewed her lip and stared at the man towering above her. For weeks now, she hadn’t uttered a word other than yes ma’am and no sir.

  Then again, Willard had behaved better these past few weeks. He had stayed away from the hooch and not given either Fanny or Quinn a licking in as long a time. He’d even managed to be gentle with her.

  Perhaps he had changed. Perhaps God could work miracles in the worst man’s heart. “Well, if’n you’re sure.”

  “I am. You’d best be goin’ afore you’re late.”

  She started the automobile and steered down the dirt road toward the small town, a smile she couldn’t stop spreading across her face. Good thing last night’s wind had calmed and wasn’t kicking up dust like it had been. Yes, if’n God could change water into wine, He could change her husband’s heart. Everything would work out in the end. They could be a real family. Maybe Fanny would even break out of her shell and talk and smile. Now wouldn’t that be a miracle?

  She bumped along the sun-packed rutted road, and soon the small town rose from the Mississippi cotton fields. In short order, she pulled in front of the white clapboard home of the pastor’s wife and parked the car. A stream of other women arrived and made their way inside.

  The young, slender brunette welcomed Gladys at the door. “So good to see you. I’m glad you could make it.”

  “Wasn’t sure if I could get away, but Willard done told me to come, and you’re supposed to obey your husband.”

  Miz Brewster tipped her head and flashed half a grin. “I—well, I suppose that’s right.”

  Most of the women gathered together on a grouping of fancy chairs in the far corner of the parlor and a settee in the middle of it all. A gleaming silver tea service sat on a shiny walnut coffee table. The only other unoccupied chair was opposite the table, kittycorner from the gaggle of ladies.

  Gladys plunked into it and worried the hem of her best black dress with a simple white lace collar. The dress was fine for funerals and church services but not for such an elegant gathering. The other ladies wore filmy pink and yellow and pale green dresses and even snow-white gloves that came to their elbows. Who knew tea was such a formal affair?

  Laughter rose from the group across from Gladys. How she would love to giggle along with them. Not since Ma had died when Gladys was fourteen years old had she laughed with a friend. Just had a good time.

  Miz Brewster entered the room and stood on the red and blue and green rug and clapped her hands for attention. The speaking died to a whisper then stopped altogether. “Good morning, ladies. I’m so pleased y’all could be here today. Hasn’t the Lord blessed us with a fine day?”

  A murmur rose from the group. Gladys nodded.

  “Shall we pray? Dear Father, we thank You for this gathering of women. May You be in the midst of us today and bring us to know each other and You better. Thank You for the food You’ve provided for us and bless it to our bodies. We ask this all in Your Son’s name. Amen.”

  The noise of women’s chatter rose again. Gladys studied her cracked hands and broken fingernails. She should have taken the time to at least cut them, but last night, same as every evening, she’d fallen into bed bone-weary.

  “Mrs. Knowles? Here’s a cup of tea for you. And do help yourself to the sandwiches and goodies.”

  Gladys brought her attention to Miz Brewster, a white cup with a red-painted design in her hands, steam rising from the tea’s surface. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Why don’t you join us? We’re discussing the fall missionary luncheon we’re planning.” Miz Brewster stepped into the kitchen.

  But the talk coming from the group of ladies was nothing about no missionary lunch. They thought Gladys couldn’t hear, but she did. “Do you see her dress?”

  “Doesn’t she have a pair of gloves? Imagine coming to a tea with bare hands.”

  “What does she know about polite society? I’m surprised she stepped foot off that farm.”

  “And that girl they have living with them. Wherever did they find such a scrawny, stupid kid? Wild ones like that belong in an institution.”

  Gladys bit her tongue until the metallic flavor of blood filled her mouth. She should never have come. She didn’t belong here. Wasn’t wanted here. Wasn’t wanted anywhere but home and only then to cook and clean.

  She placed the tea on the coffee table, the rail around the edge carved in swirls. And that’s just what her stomach was doing right now—swirling around in her middle. She stood and headed for the door.

  “Mrs. Knowles, are you leaving so soon?”

  “I—thank you, but I must go.”

  “You’ve only just arrived.”

  “Yes, I’m so sorry. Willard’ll be wanting his lunch. Thank you for the lovely time.” Heat searing her cheeks, Gladys fled from the room, from the house, and into the security of the truck. Not until she was three-quarters of the way home did her face cool and her hands stop shaking. She’d never fit in with those women. Her place was on the farm.

  She parked the car in the yard and opened the door to screams coming from the house. Screeches of terror. No, not
Fanny!

  She raced across the grassless yard, twisting her ankle on a clod of dirt, falling to the ground in pain. Another yell. Gladys came to her feet and limped-ran to the house and flung the door open.

  The cries came from the kitchen. Willard leaned over Fanny, a willow lash in his hand. “I’ll teach you to talk back.”

  He lifted the whip.

  Fanny screamed.

  Gladys leaped between her husband and the child. “Stop it.” She yanked Fanny from Willard’s grasp. “Don’t ever touch the girl again, or I will get the law after you.”

  He struck Gladys across the mouth. More blood.

  “Don’t ever interfere with me again, or I will get my gun after you.”

  Cecile stared at the child standing at the top of the staircase. Her long, brown hair flowed around her shoulders. She rubbed her blue eyes. Like she’d been punched in the stomach, Cecile collapsed. “That’s not her. That’s not her.” Her body went numb.

  Percy took over. “You said you adopted two girls. Where is the other one?”

  Mrs. Friedman turned away, while her husband swallowed hard. “When Kate came to us, she was very underweight and ill. We took her straight to the doctor, and though we fed her and nursed her, she passed away last week.”

  “No, no, no!” The screams ripped from Cecile’s throat. Not her beautiful, vivacious little girl. God, don’t let it be true. This is too much to bear.

  The Friedmans stared at her. Tears coursed down Mrs. Friedman’s cheeks, mirroring those racing down Cecile’s.

  Mr. Friedman leaned forward. “What’s wrong with her? What’s going on? You said you were from the home.”

  Cecile rocked back and forth, unable to breathe. Her last connection to Nathaniel severed. Forever. She’d lost the last bit of her family.

  “I am associated with it. This is Mrs. Dowd. Her three-year-old daughter was kidnapped by Miss Tann a couple of months ago. We’re afraid that your daughter, the one who passed away, was Mrs. Dowd’s child.”

  All the color drained from Mrs. Friedman’s face. She wiped away her tears and sat as straight as a ruler-drawn line. “Miss Tann would never commit such a crime. She works hard for the children. I must ask you to leave right now.”