The Circle Eight: Nicholas (13 page)

She made him feel like he was important, an individual in a sea of humanity.
She made him feel loved.

He stared at her back as they rode up the hill. What would he do if he wasn’t able to be with her any longer? A sobering thought. Ridiculous maybe considering a week earlier he did his best to avoid her.

Now he couldn’t imagine not being with her.

Nick was in trouble.
A lot of trouble.

Winnie’s stomach quivered with apprehension as they made their way up the hill to the Fritz’s large house. She had no idea if the woman, Bertha, was there or if she would be willing to speak with them about the children.

Bertha might not remember one little girl from
nine years ago. She might not have even been there at that time.

There were so many things that could go wrong with this conversation. Winnie couldn’t guess how many. Her dinner threatened to make a reappearance and she swallowed numerous times to keep that food where she put it. The good luck they’d found in the milliner’s shop was just that—luck. S
he had manipulated Miss Gregson, but in the end the kind but unusual woman had a good amount of money for her trouble.

Winnie didn’t have unlimited funds. Spending seven dollars on a hat she might not wear again
may be called foolish. However, she would spend every cent she had if it meant finding Grace. Now that she was on the path to locate her, there was nothing—and no one—that would stop her.

Nicholas had been by her side the entire time. His reaction with Miss Gregson had been enough to make their farce real. Pretending to be married had its appeal. If she were honest with herself, being married had an even bigger appeal. It was too soon to allow herself to think about that.

“What are you going to tell them?” Nicholas had ridden up beside her, taking advantage of the lack of traffic on the quiet street.

“I hadn’t decided yet. Perhaps the truth.”

“You didn’t tell Miss Gregson the truth.” He eyed the hat. “About anything.”

She touched the brim of the garish green hat. “She was very proud of her work. I was glad to help support her.”

“Especially when it gets you the information you want.”

At that, her cheeks heated. “I will do what I must to find Grace. No one was hurt by my prevarication.”

“Agreed. I still hate the hat, though.”

She didn’t respond to his ridiculous statement. He didn’t have to like the hat.

They made their way a bit further up the street, coming closer to the large house at the top. The green shutters and red door gave it
a bit of whimsy in an otherwise plain edifice. No front porch, no Greek columns, no balcony. There were some rather nice bushes and trees out front, with a plethora of flowers with eye-popping colors. It was a beautiful residence and it was obvious the owner cared a great deal about their home.

When they arrived, the iron hitching post gleamed in the sunlight. Their groundskeeper or gardener kept the front of the house immaculate.
She could hardly swallow the lump in her throat or quell the nervous shaking in her hands. Nicholas stood beside the mare and put his hand on her thigh. He looked up at her with sympathy in his eyes.

“I can ask questions and you can stay here if you like.” He w
as gallant even if he hid it from the rest of the world.

“No
, thank you. We need to do this together.” She handed him the reins and waited while he secured the mare before returning to help her down.

The moment her feet hit the ground, her legs decided not to support her.
Nicholas held her, his warm strength giving her the time she needed to recover from her momentary weakness. His heart beat beneath her hands, strong and steady. He didn’t speak, but simply stood there, waiting.

“I’m recovered.” She smiled at him shakily.

“Good, because I didn’t fancy carrying you inside. Those rich folks might not care for it.”

She laughed, grateful for his
twisted sense of humor. “I suppose not.” Winnie stepped back from his comforting circle and cleared her throat. “Are you ready, Mr. Graham?”

One dark brow went up. “Are you ready, ah,
Mrs. Graham
?”

A thrill zinged through her at the name. She was indeed ready and pleased to take his arm. They walked side by side up to the house, his arm an anchor in the storm of uncertainty.

The green door sported a shiny brass knocker. He glanced at her and waited. She nodded and he clanged the knocker three times.

They waited mere moments before the door opened. A woman dressed in a crisp black uniform with a blindingly white apron looked between the two of them.

“May I help you?” Her voice held a twang of Texas but she had definitely been trained to speak as a servant in a rich household would. The memory of the same type of language in her father’s house rushed over her. She pushed aside the dark years and focused on tomorrow. On finding her daughter.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. We were hoping to speak with Bertha.” Winnie smiled.

The woman frowned. “She is working. It’s highly irregular for her to have visitors.”

“If you would please allow us a few moments of her time, I assure you we will not keep her a moment longer than necessary.” Winnie hated the pleading tone in her voice. “It’s very important.”

“Wait here.” The woman closed the door, disappearing from view.

“Do you think she’ll come back?” Nicholas scowled at the door. “Not the friendliest reception.”

“Yes, she will come back.”

“How do you know?”

“Because if she doesn’t then we are at the end of this trail and that
can’t happen
,” she snapped. He was the unwilling victim of her tension.

“Oh.” His brows eased.

She closed her eyes and pressed her fist to her forehead. “I apologize, Nicholas. I shouldn’t vent my anger on you.”

He made a derisive noise. “Why not? I do it all the time.”

Again, she chuckled, her tension easing with his sense of humor. “Because I’m a nice person.”

“I’m nice.”

She laughed out loud. “You are incorrigible.”

“That much I know.”

The door opened suddenly and Winnie’s smile faded. A woman in a blue dress stood on the threshold. She was at least fifty with silver hair in a loose bun. A smear of ink graced her cheek.

“Marta said you were here to see me. Do I know you folks?”

Winnie resisted the urge to blow out a breath of relief. “Bertha, my name is Winnie Wa—Graham and this is my husband, Nicholas. I apologize for showing up unannounced and interrupting your day.”

“What do you want, Mrs. Graham?” Bertha watched them both with wariness.

“I am looking for a child that was brought to Fuller’s Home. Miss Gregson told us you used to work there.”

Bertha’s brows went up. “Yes, ma’am, I did. No one has asked me about that place since it closed.”

“Yes, well, I am looking for a child from nine years ago. I know it’s been some time but I hope you can help me track her down.” Winnie tried to keep the eagerness out of her voice. This was someone who might have seen Grace. Held her, fed her, comforted her.

“
Nine years ago? That was quite a while ago. I don’t know how much help I will be.”

“My wife is only asking you to try to remember, ma’am. That’s all.” Nicholas spoke softly. “Please.”

“I suppose I can try.” Bertha gestured to the house. “The children are napping for another half an hour. Let’s walk in the gardens and we can talk.”

Winnie’s eyes burned. “Thank you. Thank you so very much.”

Bertha patted her hands. “You aren’t the first woman to come looking for a child who was left at Fuller’s.”

They walked around the side of the house, the perfect manicured grounds led to a stunning garden filled with all manner of amazing plant, flower and tree species. Winnie couldn’t help but admire the skill of the person responsible.

“This is magnificent,” she breathed.

“Oh, yes, it surely is. Mrs. Fritz does a lot of work herself. She’s a fancy rose person, but she had a gardener who spends seven days a week picking, plucking and pruning.” Bertha led them to a stone bench in a circle around a fountain. The water burbled merrily in the concrete basin, a soothing sound to accompany the twitter of birds and chatter of squirrels.
If they lived here, Winnie would spend a good deal of time here. It was tranquil and very lovely.

They settled down on the stone bench before anyone spoke. Winnie took a deep breath. “Miss Bertha, I wanted to say thank you again for agreeing to speak with us.” Her voice shook with trepidation, a bit of fear, and excitement.

The older woman flapped her hand, which was also smudged with ink. She must be doing more than nursing her charges if she was teaching them to write. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, Mrs. Graham. There were many children who came through Fuller’s Home.”

“I expected that was the case. Many children were orphaned during the war with Mexico and others abandoned.” Her throat closed up so tight, she couldn’t even take a breath.

Nicholas once again saved her. “We are looking for a girl who was brought to the home ten years ago. May of thirty-five?” He looked to her for confirmation and she managed to nod.

“Oh that was quite some time ago.
We were just starting out.” Bertha looked up at the clear blue sky. “Things were different.”

“Yes, they were. It was before the war. Before Texas became
its own.” Nicholas held Winnie’s gaze. “There were plenty of men doing anything they could to hurt others.”

“That’s the God’s honest truth.”
Bertha appeared more relaxed and Winnie was thankful Nicholas was there to help her.

“The child was brought
to Fuller’s by Josie Fleming. She delivered the child.” Nicholas paused and waited for Winnie to speak.

“She was half-Mexican. A little girl.” Winnie was surprised by how
ragged her voice was. The emotions that had run over her in the last twenty-four hours had drained her.

“Hm, we had Mexican children, of course. Many of them girls. Is there anything else that might set her apart from the others?” Bertha asked.

“The birthmark,” Nicholas added. “Heart-shaped, on her thigh.”

Bertha’s eyes widened. “Oh my.”

“You know who she is.” Winnie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Yes I do. Before I say anything else, can you tell me why you are looking for her?” Bertha had every right to know why Winnie and Nicholas were there.

That didn’t make it any easier to tell the truth.

“She’s my daughter
, Grace. I-I gave her up because I was sixteen and unmarried.” Winnie’s voice gained strength. “I was afraid to look for her for fear when I found her, she would hate me. Nicholas helped me see what I couldn’t.”

He
inclined his head in a small gesture of approval.

“You named her Grace? Too bad no one told us. When the babies come into the home, we gave them a name, made them a part of our big family. Or as much as we could.” Bertha sighed. “There were too many children and not enough hands to help. After Mr. We
gman passed, everything fell apart. We did what we could with the ones that were left.”

A few moments passed before Winnie was struck numb with a terrible, awful thought. “She was still there.”

Bertha’s expression turned to one of sympathy. “Yes, she was.”

The world went gray around the edges of Winnie’s vision. Nicholas was there, pressing her head down between her knees and rubbing her back. Misery and self-recrimination clogged her throat.

Grace had been waiting for her mother to come back for years. All her life. Then like a left over piece of meat, she was tossed out with the trash.

“What did you call her?” Nicholas asked.

“The girl? We named her Martha.” At Bertha’s words, Nicholas hissed out a breath. “But I called her Sunshine. She was a sweet child, always helpful and whip smart. I enjoyed having her there, that much is true.” Bertha smiled with an obviously happy memory.

“Why wasn’t she adopted?” Nicholas knew how to get to the heart of things. Winnie sat with her heart in shreds as they spoke over her head.

“Oh, it was her leg. It was crooked and she lagged behind the other children with crawling and walking. People didn’t want a crippled baby or child. Most folks adopted for an extra pair of hands on their farm or ranch.”

It was much, much worse than she had expected.
Winnie sat up and took Bertha’s hand into her own clammy ones. “Thank you for taking care of her. She knew love because of you.”

Bertha didn’t pull her hands away. “She was easy to love.”

“What happened to her after Fuller’s closed?” Nicholas wasn’t giving up.

“I tried to place her with someone who needed help. Although she was only eight, she knew her numbers better than I did.” Bertha squeezed Winnie’s hands as if bracing her. “There was a feed store run by an older couple who had no children of their own. They took Martha
to work for them.”