It was nice of you to invite me for a walk.”
Ivy gave the girl strolling beside her an encouraging smile. She’d met Maggie just this morning on a stop for Ivy’s father to drop off medicine for Widow Bairns. She knew her father was trying to keep her occupied and busy. Since she and Joel uncovered the cradle at Foster Hill House yesterday, Joel had made no secret that she was not to become further involved or put herself in danger on her own crusade to find the missing child. So her father saw fit to create a list of to-dos that was busy work at best. But, perhaps meeting Widow Bairns’s new live-in caregiver was a blessing of sorts. She reminded Ivy a little of what Gabriella may have been like. Of course, she’d never tell the mousy, timid girl that. No one wished to be compared to a dead woman. Nor would she tell the girl that she’d requested her accompaniment not so much to be charitable and get to know her, since she was the widow’s great-niece from out of town, but because she knew it probably wasn’t wise to go on her secret jaunt alone.
She glanced at Maggie from the corner of her eye. The girl picked at her fingernails as they walked, her gesture nervous, and her shoulders stiff as though she was horribly shy. Ivy felt a moment of conscience prick her. She’d hate to be the cause of trouble for Maggie. But Ivy also didn’t particularly trust Joel with the responsibility of finding Gabriella’s baby. Sheriff Dunst was organizing a search party, and Joel was drumming up men to assist. In the meantime, no one was canvassing the town to investigate. No one except Ivy.
“Are you finding Oakwood pleasant?” Ivy owed some extension of genuine friendship to the girl.
Maggie nodded short, shy nods. She gave Ivy a quick wide-eyed look. “It’s very nice.”
“You must be delighted to foster a relationship with your great-aunt.” Ivy sidestepped a rock in the road, her eyes scanning the tree line on either side. Dark shadows played against bare trees and patches of snow. A squirrel hopped over a dead tree and chattered at them as they passed.
“Have you been here long?” Ivy adjusted her grip on her purse, her mind traveling a thousand steps ahead to the orphanage and to the moment she would inquire about a baby. What if there was an infant there? Could it be that simple?
“Only a week.” Maggie’s answer brought Ivy back to the conversation. She tightened her coat around herself, fiddling with the buttons, and smiled a timid, fast smile. “I like Aunt Edith.”
“Everyone adores your aunt,” Ivy reaffirmed.
Maggie stared down the road with squinted eyes. “How far are we going to walk?”
Yes. Walk. Ivy realized she’d invited Maggie for a friendly stroll, which Widow Bairns had encouraged, but Ivy hadn’t explained they had a destination.
“I need to make a stop at the orphanage, if you don’t mind.”
Maggie tugged at the warm gloves on her hands. “Oh. Yes. Yes, that’s fine.”
Ivy nodded. Good. They walked a bit more in silence, and then Maggie stopped, her eyebrows drawing together. “Oh dear,” she sighed with a quiver to her chin. “I completely forgot. I didn’t set out anything for my aunt for lunchtime. She isn’t able to prepare her own food.”
Drat. Ivy glanced up the road toward the orphanage roof that peeked above the treetops, then back toward town and Widow Bairns. So close.
“I’m so sorry.” Maggie read Ivy’s indecision as offense.
She couldn’t miss this opportunity to find Gabriella’s baby. Ivy reached out and patted Maggie’s shoulder. “You go on back.” Maggie would be safe, wouldn’t she? Ivy grimaced. The only danger would be to herself. She’d seen the book with writing in it, and for all her attacker knew, she’d seen him. Maggie was an innocent, but Ivy would need to retrace her steps home. Alone. Maybe she should return with Maggie. Before Ivy could reach a conclusion, Maggie smiled shyly.
“Thank you for understanding.” She whirled and hoisted her skirts, hurrying down the road without so much as a backward glance.
A stick snapped behind Ivy, and she spun back toward the orphanage, scanning the path and the dark edges of the woods behind her. She was committed now. Ivy hurried the final quarter mile to the orphanage and up the home’s stairs, stopping only long enough to brace her hand against the porch rail and survey the road one last time. A murder of crows fluttered from the trees nearby. Something had disturbed them. Most likely her own frantic pace and Maggie’s retreating form.
Ivy rapped on the orphanage door, her furtive glances over her shoulder revealing nothing but the birds. Murder of crows. Horrible term, considering the circumstances. Why couldn’t they be flocks like other birds?
The orphanage door opened, and Ivy saw the familiar inside of the home. Its interior was plain, just as she remembered. Mr. Casey, the orphanage director, peered at her, his expression a scowl. He’d never been pleased with her visits, and apparently nothing had changed. She and Andrew had met Joel when their small Sunday school group had come for an afternoon to recite Bible verses for the orphans and share homemade cakes. Something had been markedly unique about Joel. The mischief in his eyes perhaps? The way he could stare right into her eyes and read her mind? Whatever the case, she and Andrew hadn’t wanted to leave with their group because they’d found unusual comradery in the orphan. So they’d returned the following day with the excuse of bringing Joel a storybook. The day after that, it was a wooden whistle in hand as a gift, after which Mr. Casey put a stop to their almost daily visits to see Joel. Yet the refusal to allow them friendship was not to be entertained by the trio. Because of that, their childish selves snuck out at nighttime to seek adventure in the woods and to be together. It continued into their teenage years, Joel savvy enough to avoid his absence at night from being detected, but then their escapades halted abruptly when Andrew—
“Well, well, Miss Thorpe.” Mr. Casey’s deep voice broke into Ivy’s chaotic nostalgia. “It’s been quite some time.” His hooked nose reminded her of a pirate, or a villain, or—Ivy blinked to clear her thoughts. Her mind was running wild, something she rarely allowed it to do. She was just unnerved. Joel had unnerved her—on many levels.
“What can I do for you?” Mr. Casey opened the door with a grimace that indicated he did so more out of etiquette and obligation than hospitality. For twelve years she had avoided this home and its memories of Joel. Twelve years she’d denied the orphanage even a charitable service. Mr. Casey had the right to hold some sort of grudge.
Ivy stepped inside, thankful when the orphanage door closed with a solid thud behind her. She never conceived of taking refuge in the orphanage, but for now it served its purpose and hid her from the shadowed woods.