Her small eyes softened slightly. She placed her hands flat against the counter and sighed. “I don’t suppose it’s your fault. It wasn’t mine either, you know.”

  I didn’t entirely understand, so I stayed quiet.

  “I’ll give you five pounds of flour and a pound of kidney beans for one of your nickels.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” My stomach growled at the thought of warm beans.

  “I’ll throw some lard in too. Fried-up pieces of bread will stick to your bones. Also, biscuits made with lard are quick and easy. Be sure to soak those beans overnight, or they’ll give you a stomachache. Once the baby’s big enough, you can soak pieces of bread in milk and let her suck on them.”

  “Do you know where I could get milk?” I asked.

  “Moore Brothers dairy delivers to folks who don’t have a cow.”

  More money.

  “Stop over there on your way home. Mrs. Moore sells it a penny a quart. Tell her Mrs. Adams sent you.”

  “Thank you. I will. You know of any work around town?” I asked.

  “Not for a girl with a baby.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Adams. I should go now.”

  “Take care of yourself, girl. We’re in for a long winter.”

  I needed a miracle. That’s all there was to it.

  3

  Wesley

  * * *

  With Atlas at my heels, I took the outside stairs down to the kitchen entrance. A blast of warm air hit my face as I entered, as did the aroma of garlic and roast beef. I tore my newsboy cap from my head and stuck it on the rack near the door. Mrs. Walker, our cook, and June, one of the new maids, were busy preparing treats for tomorrow’s Christmas Eve supper. Mother liked to have a variety of pies and cakes.

  The kitchen had two cookstoves, which were both lit up tonight to cook the pies and a few loaves of sourdough bread, plus a chocolate cake. Gingerbread cookies were piled high on a plate on the buffet in the corner. We would eat well tonight. I thought again of Luci’s wan face. Surely I could take some of our leftovers out to her?

  “Good evening, Mrs. Walker. June.”

  June nodded, then looked away, shy. She wasn’t much older than me, but as the oldest of seven children she had to go to work as soon as she was able.

  Mrs. Walker, stout and white haired, wiped her hands on the front of her apron. Her full cheeks were rosy from cooking over a hot stove, but that didn’t diminish her smile. “Young Wesley. Are you ready for Santa?” She tugged at her cap, which made it slightly lopsided over one ear. My presence was expected in the kitchen at least twice a day, where Mrs. Walker and I fed Atlas his breakfast and dinner. Both Lillian and I adored the staff, and they didn’t seem to mind that we obviously came down for refuge from the upstairs.

  I grinned. “I know there’s no Santa, Mrs. Walker. I’m practically grown.”

  “You’re breaking my heart.”

  “I have to grow up. Otherwise, how will I ever get out of here?”

  She tutted but didn’t comment. There were things no one could speak of in this house. The treatment of young Wesley was one of them. Everyone knew what went on in Father’s study. If they were to say anything at all, they would surely be dismissed immediately. Thus, we all pretended the strap didn’t happen. I liked it that way. To see pity in their eyes would have been as bad as the punishment itself.

  “I’ve been wondering where you got yourself off to. Your sister’s been looking for you.”

  Alarm bells chimed in my head. “Was she all right?”

  “Yes, I believe so.” A flicker of concern showed in her eyes, but again, she didn’t comment further. “She’s like a lost puppy without her brother, that’s all.”

  Mrs. Walker walked into the pantry and came out with some kibble for Atlas. He wagged his tail, but it lacked enthusiasm. His appetite had diminished lately. Just a year ago he would have rushed over to Mrs. Walker and waited, watching her every move as she set his bowl on the floor.

  She set it down near his water bowl. “Come on, boy, time for your dinner,” I said.

  Atlas, more to please me than anything, ambled over to his dish and began to eat.

  “He didn’t eat much this morning,” Mrs. Walker said. “But he’s hungry tonight. Maybe traipsing all over the forest was good for him.”

  My own stomach grumbled, reminding me of my purpose. “Mrs. Walker, do we have a lot of food left over after our meals?”

  “Sometimes, yes. Why?”

  “No reason, really. Curious, that’s all.” I couldn’t get Mrs. Walker involved until I had permission from our head housekeeper, Mollie. Getting our sweet cook in trouble was not on my list of Christmas wishes.

  “Curiosity killed the cat.” Mrs. Walker returned to the stove. “Mollie said for you to stop by her office before you head up to change for dinner.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Walker. I’ll go now.” I wondered why Mollie wanted to see me. Not that it mattered. I needed to see her too.

  With Atlas trotting obediently behind me, we headed down the narrow hallway to Mollie’s office. She was always there this time of day, doing whatever needed doing.

  Mollie kept everything running like clockwork. She managed the inside staff with a firm but fair hand. Dax, her husband, was our head groundskeeper. They shared a small cottage not far from the main house.

  I knocked on the door, and she called for me to come in. Dax was there too, having a glass of beer. They had the same routine every day. After he’d cleaned up from his outside duties, he had a beer while Mollie finished up for the day. The office was small, with dark walls and no windows. She kept her broad desk tidy, and the room smelled of the dried lavender Mollie kept in a vase.

  “Hello there, lad.” Dax had been in America since he was a young man, but his Irish brogue remained strong. To look at his slim frame, one wouldn’t guess his physical strength and endurance. He worked ten-to-twelve-hour days in the summer, ensuring the grounds and gardens were tidy and watered. A mere look in a plant’s direction and it grew as if under a spell. “Have you been out and about?”

  “Yes, I’ve come from the woods,” I said, slightly breathless from nerves. If I couldn’t get Mollie to agree to my plan, I didn’t know what I would do. Atlas flopped on the braided rug near Dax’s chair.

  “And I have to ask you something,” I said to Mollie.

  She lifted her gaze from a notebook where she’d been making a list of some kind. Her dark-blue eyes flitted from my head to my toes. “Your coat looks damp. Where’s your hat and scarf? You’ll catch your death.” With her fair skin and pink cheeks, she reminded me of a ripe peach. My favorite fruit, just as she was among my favorite people. Her black-and-white curls were pulled back into a bun at her neck, but a few had escaped, framing her heart-shaped face.

  “You’ll be getting the floors wet with your boots,” Mollie said.

  I looked down at my feet. They appeared dry to me.

  “And that dog smells to high heaven.”

  I couldn’t smell Atlas at all. “Sorry, Mollie.”

  “I don’t like your running around like a wild animal in the woods. Who knows what kind of trouble a boy your age could get into? There are people in this town who mean you harm. Not to mention the animals.” Her Irish lilt often made a statement sound like a question.

  “Staying in here all day . . . I just can’t . . . ” I trailed off, unsure how to explain that the woods were the place I was free.

  “I don’t want any reason for your dad to do what he did last night,” Mollie said in a softer tone. “We worry about you.”

  I hung my head, shocked that she’d spoken of it aloud. “I know, but I’m all right.”

  “How’s your back?” Mollie asked. “Do you need me to put the salve on again?”

  I’d been sent to my room after my punishment. Mollie, somehow, had known that I needed her, even though she should have already been retired to her cottage for the evening. I’d heard the floorboards creaking in the hallway and had known it was her. Because it was too painful to lie on my back, I’d been facedown on the bed when she came through the door with her medical kit in her hand. I knew it hurt her and Dax to see what went on in this house, but there was nothing they could do to help. My father and mother made the rules, and we were all obliged to follow them.

  “No, it’s fine. Doesn’t sting any longer.” A lie, but I’d rather not have Mollie worried. She’d painstakingly applied salve the night before with her gentle fingers.

  “What have you come for, then? You’ll need to be changed for dinner in a half hour.”

  “I . . . I found a girl. In the woods. She had a baby, and it was very small and crying. Her mother’s dead and buried right there in the yard. I saw the grave.” The words tumbled from my mouth. Not at all how I’d planned to propose my idea.

  Mollie watched me with more intensity than she had just moments before. “Where, exactly?”

  “I’m not sure. We were running in the woods, and there it was. A shack and the girl.”

  “And a baby? How big?”

  I held up my hands to show her. “Tiny.”

  “A newborn.” She said this under her breath, as if she’d forgotten I was in the room. “The mother was dead? Are you certain?”

  “Yes, I’m certain.” I shuddered, remembering the fresh grave. “The girl said she didn’t know what they would eat and that her pa—that’s what she called her father—was mean. I heard him shouting.”

  “You’re talking about Sam Quick,” Mollie said. “You stay away from there. He’s a dangerous man.”

  My heart sank. “But, Mollie, I thought maybe I could bring them food. I told her. I promised her. I said I’d come tomorrow.”

  Mollie let out a sigh. “Lad, you shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t make promises about something you can’t control.”

  “You could help me. Think of all the food we throw away.” I scrambled to come up with an argument that would win her over to my idea. “I’d just leave it in a basket and never even talk to her. No one will even know we’re there. Mollie, please, what will they eat? Winter’s going to be hard this year too. Dax said so.”

  “You’re to stay away from there.” Her eyes had lost all gentle concern and were now cold and flat as they bored a hole through my heart. This wasn’t like Mollie. She was soft and sympathetic to anyone in trouble. The time I’d brought in the injured baby bird that had fallen from the nest, she’d been as concerned as I was. Until I’d been forced to put it back outside.

  I pleaded my case as best I could. “If you asked Mrs. Walker to set aside whatever is left over at the end of the day for a family you know, then I could deliver it to them.”

  “I said no.”

  “I don’t understand. Why not?” I glanced at Dax. He gave me a sympathetic half smile.

  “Because this is not your concern,” Mollie said. “I’m sorry for the girl, but this is not our business. Lad, I’m trying to keep you from another beating. Your mother will not want you out there. Trust me on this.”

  I deflated. Atlas lifted his head and licked my boot.

  “What is it that’s gotten you so worked up?” Mollie asked. “There are other poor families around here.”

  “I don’t know. Something about her. Like I knew her before. She reminded me of that baby bird. She has no one.” As hard as my parents were, I had Mollie, Dax, Mrs. Walker, and Lillian. Luci Quick had only a drunkard father and a baby who would not survive without intervention of some kind.

  “Luci Quick has a father, and hopefully he’ll step up now that his wife’s in the grave.” Mollie spoke with less alarm in her voice now. “I know it’s hard not to have any young people around, but Luci Quick can’t be your friend.”

  Lillian and I weren’t allowed to have many friends or go to regular school. Mollie probably thought I was simply desperate for a friend. Latching on to people who didn’t belong to me.

  Mother barked at us from the doorway. “What does Luci Quick have to do with this family?” She was like the white calla lilies Dax grew in the flower beds, slender and elegant and so very pretty.

  I swallowed as I backed into the corner of the room. She hadn’t yet changed into evening attire. I could see from her red and puffy eyes that she’d been crying.

  I pressed against the wall. If I could have, I would have slipped out the window and ran and ran. Atlas scrambled to his feet and crossed over to sit next to me. Poor Atlas thought he could protect me from my mother.

  What was she doing down here? Usually she sent her maid, Ruth, downstairs with requests or instructions.

  “Tell me.” Mother entered the room and drew nearer.

  “I came upon their shack today. The mother’s died, and there’s a little baby.” For some reason it didn’t occur to me to lie. “I was talking to Mollie about taking food out to them.” The minute I said the words, I deeply regretted them.

  Mother’s face contorted, and her skin flushed almost purple. For a second I thought she might strike me. Why? What had I done? However, she rearranged her face into its normal shape and sucked in a shaky breath and held it for a moment, her chest expanding with the effort. Then she let the air from her lungs out slowly, as if extinguishing a flame on a candle. She hated wax on the tablecloths. Once I’d blown too enthusiastically, and droplets of wax had gone everywhere. She’d made sure I never forgot again by plunging my fingers into the hot wax, followed by sending me to Father’s study for the strap. “It’s kind of you to worry about them, but they’re no concern of ours. We can’t save everyone. Anyway, what gave you the idea that we owe them anything?”

  “Nothing like that,” I said. “But they might starve or freeze to death.”

  She briefly closed her eyes, as if I was both a burden and simpleton. “Your father and I are generous to the local poor, but we cannot save everyone. If Mr. Quick is too lazy or drunk to take care of his own family, then he’ll have to reconcile that with God. What if we gave all my money away? Who would take care of you and your sister then?” She put her cold fingers under my chin and lifted my face. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Good, then we’ll think no more of it.” She turned to Mollie. “Have you chosen wine for us for tonight?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Ford. And I’ve noted it in the log. They’re decanting in the dining room, as you asked.”

  “Very good. Thank you.” Her gaze flickered to Dax for the first time. “The Christmas tree you chose is sparse on one side, but Ruth managed to have its best side facing out from the corner.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ford. The tree didn’t look that way when I chopped it down.”

  “Attention to detail, Dax, is what separates the mediocre from the great.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She turned to me. “As for you—there’s a bath and a suit for you waiting upstairs. Your sister’s upstairs practicing her piano. I’m going to get dressed for dinner. Don’t disappoint me further by dallying.”

  “I won’t, Mother.”

  “Have someone bathe that dog,” Mother said. “He smells horrendous.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Ford.” Mollie stood up from behind the desk. “I’ll take care of that right away.”

  After Mother had gone, I took in a deep breath, as if my lungs had been temporarily crushed by a boulder. I placed my hand absentmindedly on Atlas’s soft yellow head.

  “Wesley?” Mollie asked quietly. “You do understand, don’t you? Don’t go against your mother’s wishes.”

  I nodded, pretending. In fact, I did not understand. Mother’s reaction was strange at best. Why would she care in particular about Luci Quick?

  I looked up as Dax and Mollie exchanged a look. They knew something I didn’t.

  All these lies and secrets. Surely at some point in time, they would destroy our household. They lurked in the shadows, ready to jump out and get us when we least expected it.

  I was on my way upstairs when Father called out to me. Bracing myself for the worst, I turned around and marched, like a man to his death, into his study.

  “Yes, sir?”

  Father sat behind a wide mahogany desk. A roaring fire lit the room. Other than the painted portrait of himself, which hung over the fireplace, scientific books on every nonfiction subject one could imagine filled the shelves from floor to ceiling. He spent much of his time writing to booksellers in search of books on one subject or another.

  “What’s this I hear about you traipsing around the woods and getting involved in things that are none of your concern?” Father was older than Mother by ten years. His gray hair was cropped short. He wore small round glasses that he peered over when he looked at anything but a book. I suspected he would have been considered handsome by those who didn’t know him. I couldn’t see past the sinister look in his dark-brown eyes or his small mouth, which was pinched closed most of the time.

  The fact that he knew the details of my day surprised me. Most of his time was spent locked in his study without seeming to care about Lillian or me. Mother knew the minutiae of our days. She dictated most of it.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” Father leaned back in his chair and placed his hands over his stomach.

  How was I supposed to answer? Lillian always advised to say sorry, even if you didn’t do it or had no idea what they wanted. “I’m sorry.” That apology cost me a few inches of dignity.

  His chair creaked as he rose to his feet. I glanced nervously at the riding crop than hung on the rack in the corner. He perched on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s something you need to understand. Those people are not like us. We’re not to help them, or they’ll never help themselves.”