by Tolsma, Liz;
Percy released Cecile and handed Pearl over the seat.
Griggs turned around, his brown eyes still glassy. “What is all this hullabaloo?”
“Pearl isn’t her daughter.” Percy bit the inside of his cheek.
Cecile’s cries morphed into hiccups.
“You chased us for nothing? Got us into this situation for no good reason?”
Percy tightened his jaw and sighed. “Not for nothing. Now we know, we all know for certain, that this child doesn’t belong to Cecile.” He offered Cecile his handkerchief, the monogrammed one Mother gave him for Christmas last year.
“And I’m sorry.” He nodded to Griggs and Darcy. “I apologize for making the assumption, barging into your home, disrupting your lives, causing you this distress. I offer you my deepest regrets.”
Darcy offered him a tremulous smile, one that didn’t fully absolve him of his culpability. Griggs scowled. Fair enough. It would take time to repair the damage his assumptions had caused.
Cecile wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and tucked a stray, wet, mud-encrusted strand of hair behind her ear. “That leaves two questions unanswered.”
“Don’t say it.” Darcy covered her ears. “Don’t say it.”
Cecile broke from his embrace and touched Darcy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry we caused you such trouble. That wasn’t my intention. I had to know, everything inside of me had to find out if this was my daughter. As a mother yourself, can’t you understand?”
“She’s mine. In every way, she’s mine.” Darcy snuggled Pearl.
Percy rubbed the back of his neck. No matter which way you looked at it, there was no good solution to the problem Georgia Tann had created. “At least now you don’t have to fear anyone taking your child.”
“No, we still do.” Darcy spun to face Percy. “So Pearl wasn’t Mrs. Dowd’s stolen child. How long will it be before someone else knocks on our door, wanting to know if Pearl is their little girl? I can’t live like that. As a mother, Mrs. Dowd, you understand.”
Cecile rubbed her stomach. “I do. Much as I hate to admit it, I do.”
“And you’ll return to the city and spread the word about us, won’t you?”
Cecile glanced over her shoulder at Percy. What kind of answer did he give? If Pearl was stolen just as Millie was, then didn’t the biological parents have the right to get their child back? But what about the Griggs’s rights? And the welfare of Pearl, so well adjusted to her new home? “I don’t know.”
“But the remaining question is even more critical.” Cecile pulled up a blanket that had slid from Pearl’s shoulders.
“What is that?” Though the question rumbled in his mind.
“If this isn’t Millie, where is she?”
No sooner had the sun streaked the sky pink and orange did Gladys jump from bed and pull her old brown work dress over her head. Her only summer work dress, but it didn’t matter. Not today.
At church last Sunday, Miz Harper, a young woman pretty near Gladys’s own age, had asked if she might stop by to shoot the breeze for a while. Imagine that. No one ever paid Gladys a visit. What a special occasion for sure. And she was gonna make sure everything was just so.
Willard left for the barn a short while ago. Gladys woke Fanny, the little girl rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Why’re we up so early?”
“ ’Member, today Miz Harper is coming for lunch. We gots so much to do. Time to get cracking. Put on your overalls. You can change into your church dress after everything’s ready to go.”
Breakfast today would be fast and easy. Just oatmeal. Once she had the menfolk fed, she shooed them outside, and she and Fanny got to work.
Gladys handed her one of the loaves of bread they’d baked yesterday and a knife. “Cut them crusts off for the cucumber sandwiches.”
Fanny scrunched her face and sawed the knife back and forth over the loaf. Gladys turned to baking the pie she was fixing to make. Apple, the fruit from her very own trees. She cut the butter into the flour for the pastry and glanced at Fanny. What in good gracious? The bread was, was pink. How had it gotten …?
No, oh no, Fanny was bleeding and hadn’t said a word. Gladys grabbed the knife from her and wrapped a towel around her hand. “What happened?”
Fanny shrugged her slim shoulders. “I dunno.”
“You cut yourself and bled all over the bread.”
“I didn’t mean to.” Not a single tear leaked from her eyes.
“ ’Course you didn’t.”
“No, she’s just the world’s biggest genius.”
Willard’s booming sent Gladys jumping. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“But I heard you babying that child again. How’s she ever gonna do things right if’n you’re always coddling her? I’ve had about enough and have half a mind to send her back.”
Gladys pulled Fanny close. Never, never would she allow anyone to take her child from her. Not this girl that she’d waited for and prayed about for so long. “Ain’t no need to do that. There’s no harm done.”
“No harm done?” Willard scowled, and Gladys backed closer to the warm stove, the heat of it searing her backside. “She’s spoiled the food. That don’t grow on trees.”
“We’ll fix it. These fancy sandwiches mean I got to cut lots of it off anyways. It’ll be fine.”
“Fine? It’ll be fine? Always what you’re saying.” Willard bellowed so, it was a wonder the windows didn’t shake.
“Yoohoo. Anybody home?”
Gladys fiddled with her apron. “There’s Miz Harper. You’d best be getting back to the barn if you don’t want her to hear what you’re saying and spread the gossip all over the county.”
Willard hightailed it from the house, almost knocking over the willowy woman as she entered.
“Gracious, where’s the fire, Willard?”
By the time she got the words out, he was long gone.
“Miz Harper. You’re a mite early. We ain’t quite ready yet.”
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I must’ve gotten my times confused. But you don’t have to worry about me. I can help.” She eyed the pink bread. “And it seems like I’m here in the nick of time.”
“Thank you, but I hate to put you to work. Fanny and I have it under control.”
“I don’t mind one little bit. Looks like Fanny could use a hand slicing up that bread. Why don’t you tend to her, Miz Knowles, and I’ll take care of that?”
All Gladys could do was nod and hustle Fanny to the bedroom, where she bandaged her hand and got her changed into her church clothes.
“Am I gonna go home?” Fanny bit her lower lip.
“No. I ain’t never gonna let anyone take you from me. You’re my little girl for always.”
“Even if I’m bad?”
“Even then. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
“Oh.” And that was it. Fanny showed no emotion. Not a smile or a frown or a tear. Nothing. Just blank. You could never tell what the girl was thinking or feeling. There was something not right about it. But she’d come around in time. With enough love, she’d open up and blossom.
They returned to the kitchen, where Miz Harper had the bread all sliced and piled in a neat stack. She knelt in front of Fanny. “There y’all are. Your momma got you fixed up?”
Fanny stared at her scuffed Mary Janes.
“She’s fine, thank you. Why don’t you have a seat at the table, and I’ll pour you some tea while Fanny makes the sandwiches.”
“I didn’t come here to be waited on. I’ll make the sandwiches. Let Fanny rest a bit.”
“But—”
“I insist.”
Willard wouldn’t like it if he came in and saw Fanny sitting. But Gladys had no other answer for her guest, so Fanny took a spot at the table.
As the two women worked at the counter, Miz Harper leaned over to Gladys. “I’m concerned about the child, dear. It ain’t right how hard she’s working. She’s so thin and so frightened. I…Well, I heard your husband when I p
ulled up. Is this the best place for Fanny?”
Gladys gazed at the woman, her dark, curly hair parted on the side. “ ’Course it is. Fanny’s my child, and I’m never gonna give her up. No one’s ever gonna take her from me. No matter what.”
“I’m just concerned about her is all. And if you can’t keep her, Bill and I would be happy to take her. The Lord hasn’t blessed us with children.”
So, that’s what this visit was all about. Nothing to do with being neighborly. Nothing of the sort. Someone just trying to take her child. “All’s you gotta do is contact Miss Tann at the Tennessee Children’s Home Society. Tell her what kind of kid you want, you know, hair color, eye color, age, everything, and you’ll get one of your own.”
If Fanny went anywhere, it would be over Gladys’s dead body.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The wind scattered the dry leaves in front of Cecile, and they skittered on the sidewalk in front of her, crunching underneath her feet. For hours and hours upon end, every day she had off work and as soon as she finished her job, she scoured the streets of Memphis, haunting the playgrounds and nursery schools and shops where Millie might show up. Nothing. In a city with a population over a quarter of a million people, what hope did she have of ever finding her daughter? But with each new dawn, she renewed her vow to the little girl she loved more than her own life. She toyed with the pink ribbon she’d tied around her wrist. Millie was always with her.
Cecile rounded the corner, and the nursery school where she worked came into view. A small clutch of women with colorful hats on their heads milled around the school’s door. What was going on? It was early. Early enough that she would be the first teacher there.
Cecile approached the low-slung white brick building. Why, it was Faith’s mother. And Virginia’s and Norma’s.
Cecile squinted. They didn’t have their daughters with them. She twisted the ribbon on her wrist. Something was wrong. She picked up her pace and reached them in short order. “You’re here at the crack of dawn. And on a Monday morning, no less.” She worked to keep her voice casual and natural.
Faith’s mother, a tiny woman with dark hair, turned to Cecile, holding a handkerchief to her nose. “It’s our girls.”
Cecile frowned. “I don’t understand.” She refused to allow herself to understand.
“They never came home from school Friday.”
“All three of them?”
The women nodded.
Cecile tapped her knuckle against her mouth. “We sent them on their way as usual. I watched them until they turned the corner. You all live in the building just down the street. How could they have not made it home?”
“That’s what we’d like to know.” Faith’s mother dabbed at her eyes. “What happened to them? We’ve contacted the police, and they’re no help. We spent the weekend scouring the city. We don’t have the number to telephone Mrs. Quinn. She’s not listed in the directory.”
Norma’s mother fished her hankie out of her white pocketbook. “We’ve spent the weekend combing the city, turning the town upside down, searching everywhere we can think they might be. No sign of them, not a trace. They’ve vanished. Thought maybe you knew something. Saw something.”
“No, I knew nothing of this until just now.” A thought struck Cecile. An awful, horrible thought. “Did you notice anything unusual last week? Any strange cars or people around the neighborhood?”
Norma’s mother, a large-boned woman, gasped. “Yes, I do remember now. A few days last week, at different times of the day, I saw a black Cadillac limousine cruising up and down the street.”
The other two women concurred.
Cecile stumbled against the building’s rough brick exterior. “Are you sure?”
The rotund woman nodded. “This isn’t a hoity-toity neighborhood by any stretch of the imagination. No one around here has the money for such luxuries, especially these days. That’s what made the car stand out. Such a strange sight.”
“I think I know who has your children.” Cecile inhaled, long and deep. “Let’s go inside, where we can speak more privately.” She undid the lock and led the way inside, the room smelling of paint and glue.
As soon as they stepped inside, Faith’s mother grasped her by the arm. “What do you know?”
“I know that automobile. I’ve seen it before, and I know who drives it.”
“Who?” Each of the women stepped closer to Cecile. “Who?”
“Have you ever heard of Georgia Tann and the Tennessee Children’s Home Society?”
Virginia’s mother nodded. “Yes, I have. They do wonderful work for disadvantaged children and families.”
“Is that what you think?” Then again, if Cecile hadn’t known better, she might have believed the same. “That’s not what they’re about. Miss Tann kidnaps children and sends them to be adopted. If they survive.”
A strangled cry came from Faith’s mother. “How do you know?”
“Because it happened to my daughter a few months ago.”
“You mean she’s not visiting your parents?”
“I haven’t had contact with my parents in more than five years. They don’t know of Millie’s existence. I didn’t want you parents to think I’m not fit to raise my daughter. She was snatched from my neighbor’s house when I was out hunting for a different job. I have reason to believe she’s somewhere in this city, but I don’t know where.”
“And you think that’s what happened to our girls?” Norma’s mother’s voice trembled.
“I can almost guarantee it. They send out spies to case places like this school to find children to sell.”
“Sell?” Faith’s mother grasped her handkerchief, her fingers turning white.
“You don’t think Miss Tann does this out of the goodness of her heart, do you?”
“My baby, my poor baby.” Norma’s mother slumped to the floor.
Cecile grabbed her before she hit her head. With a paper she snatched from a nearby table, she fanned the chubby-cheeked woman. Mrs. Brown’s eyes fluttered open. “My Norma.”
Cecile helped her sit. “Are you all right?”
“All right? How can I ever be when my daughter is who knows where? You have to help us find our girls. Surely you know where Miss Tann took them.”
“I don’t. If I did, I’d have my Millie with me. But I’ve been searching for two months without success. I wish I could help you, but the reality is that I need help myself.”
“Can’t we talk to this Miss Tann?” Faith’s mother knelt beside Mrs. Brown. “Just ask her to return our children. There must have been a terrible mistake. We aren’t bad mothers. We take good care of them.”
“None of that matters, only that the girls were pretty and out of sight of an adult for a few moments. I’m sure that’s all it took for her to lure them to her vehicle and spirit them away.”
“We have to try.” Virginia’s mother hardened her features. “Don’t we owe it to the girls to at least try? My heart has been ripped from my body. I need it back.”
“You’ll take us to see this Miss Tann?” Mrs. Brown pleaded with Cecile.
Cecile rocked back and sat on her haunches. “I will. I’ll try to help, but I’m warning you that it won’t be easy. And probably won’t be successful. But we’ll try. Maybe if we all go together and make enough of a fuss, she’ll listen to us. Perhaps for your daughters, it’s not too late.”
But was it too late for Millie?
“Fanny! Fanny, where are you?” Gladys stepped onto the farmhouse’s front porch. Ten minutes ago, she’d let Fanny go to the outhouse, and the cotton-pickin’ kid hadn’t come back. Hopefully, she wasn’t sick or nothin’.
Gladys made her way to the small rectangular wood building, but the door swung open in the early fall breeze. “Fanny, you come out from wherever you’re hiding. This ain’t funny. You don’t wanna go gettin’ me mad.” But only the lowing of the cows in the pasture beyond answered her.
The privy couldn’t be more than
fifty yards from the house, with nothing between the two. Fanny couldn’t have gotten into trouble between the two places. Maybe she’d gone to visit the kittens in the barn. One day last week, when Willard had run to town for something or another, Gladys had taken her to see the new litter. For the first time since Fanny came to live with them, her little face lit up. She didn’t say much, but she squealed and held the littlest of the bunch in her arms for the longest time.
Once Gladys’s eyes adjusted to the inside of the dark barn, she searched high and low for the girl. “Come on, Fanny. You gotta finish dustin’ the parlor and then make some biscuits. Daddy’ll come in from the fields soon and won’t like it if his dinner ain’t ready.” Even that threat brought no response from Fanny.
Gladys climbed the ladder to the hayloft and found the momma cat and her kittens on a bale in the corner. But Fanny was missing. Gladys called and called until she was hoarse but got no answer. Her arms tingled. Where could the child have gone?
As fast as she could, she flew across the yard, through the apple orchard, and down to the little brook. “Fanny! Fanny!” A bird twittered in the tree above her, but no little girl’s voice answered. Where could she be? She had to find her before Willard discovered she’d run off. He’d have both their hides for sure.
Where else could a child hide herself? Gladys searched the cold cellar, the cotton barn, and all the other outbuildings on the property. No Fanny.
Maybe she’d gone back to the house. Gladys might’ve just missed her. “Fanny? You in here?” She peeked into the parlor and in the lean-to where Fanny slept. Empty.
She blew out a breath. “God, you gotta help me find her.” But though she peered in every wardrobe, behind all the curtains, and underneath each of the beds, she didn’t see Fanny. She wasn’t inside. She wasn’t outside. Where on earth could she be? Gladys parted the curtains at the kitchen window and looked through it. Movement in the far field caught her attention. Willard and Quinn were on their way back to the house. She had to find Fanny. Now.
Once again, she went outside to search. A long, straight dirt road ran in front of their property. She shielded her eyes from the late afternoon sun and glanced both ways. There, in the distance, was a shadow. Small. Tiny, in fact, against the big, open sky. But it might be Fanny. She was headed in the opposite direction of town, but the girl didn’t know any better.