A hint of white smoke greeted Lily as she neared an open door inside the modest-size building, roughly a mile’s walk from the train depot.
Not smoke, she realized. Chalk dust. At the blackboard, before several rows of wooden desks, a young, freckle-faced boy in a sweater vest and woolen knickers pounded two chalkboard erasers together, creating a fresh cloud. He sneezed twice in quick succession.
“Bless you,” said a woman in the corner. Seated at the teacher’s desk, she was the only other person in the room. She had short, black hair and a face as full as her figure, set off with high cheekbones. A Spanish-like skin tone gave her a touch of exoticness. “Now, keep at it, Oliver. I prefer not to be here all afternoon.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, white dust on his cheeks.
The two-room schoolhouse was on the back side of a church, where it doubled as a Sunday school. The cordial pastor, freshly assigned to the area, had directed Lily here for possible insight into the situation.
“Pardon me. Mrs. Stanton?” Lily said upon entering.
The teacher twisted in her seat, her ample bosom stretching her blouse. “May I help you?”
“I certainly hope so. Pastor Ron sent me your way.”
Mrs. Stanton brightened. “This is regarding the blanket drive?” she ventured. Without turning, she declared, “I don’t hear any erasers, Oliver.”
The boy resumed cleaning with another whack, and Mrs. Stanton waited for Lily to go on. Due to the topic, Lily moved closer before explaining. “Pastor Ron mentioned you might be able to shed some light on a matter. One involving a former student of yours.”
Mrs. Stanton looked intrigued, though still cheery. “And which child would that be? I’ve taught quite a few.”
Lily smiled kindly. “I’m sure you have.” Conscious of the boy’s presence, she lowered her voice. “Her name is Ruby Dillard.”
Mrs. Stanton’s mood changed, doused like a flame. After a beat, she gave her throat a quick clearing. “Oliver, that’s enough for today.”
The boy perked up for only an instant before he abandoned the erasers and sprinted for the door.
“And don’t forget!” Mrs. Stanton called out, halting him. “Next time you choose to lick a classmate, what should you expect?”
He sighed. “The paddle.”
She motioned her thick chin toward the door. “Off you go.”
The boy’s infraction played out in Lily’s mind, an amusing scenario that vanished when Mrs. Stanton leaned forward, elbows on her desk. “Has something awful happened, with the man who took those sweet children?”
“To be honest, Mrs. Stanton, that’s precisely what I’m trying to find out.”
The teacher’s brow creased. “I don’t understand. You’re not a child worker?”
“No, I’m…” How could Lily describe herself in the simplest form? “I’m a friend of a reporter who recently connected with the family.”
“I see,” Mrs. Stanton said. “The reporter.”
Unable to gauge the woman’s tone, Lily hurried to inject a note of compassion on Ellis’s behalf. “That same friend last visited the Dillards in the fall, when he delivered another batch of donations for the family. So, you can imagine his surprise when he stopped by last week and discovered the news.”
“Yes, well. The situation was a surprise to many of us.” More graveness than resentment echoed in Mrs. Stanton’s words, encouraging Lily to press on.
“Would you know where the children are now?”
Mrs. Stanton shook her head, a solemn motion. Then her gaze drifted to the middle of the room, perhaps visualizing Ruby at her desk.
“Do you have any idea why they were…given up?” A milder term for it. “I’d have thought the donations would’ve made such a thing avoidable.”
Her eyes still distant, Mrs. Stanton spoke as if thinking aloud. “I would’ve offered to help out with Ruby—her brother too—if only I’d known of her condition earlier.”
Lily blinked at this. “Condition?” The word sent her mind spinning.
Was this the reason Geraldine had given away her daughter? Had she viewed a wealthy banker as a solution, ensuring better medical care for a sick child?
But then, why send her son off too? Why take the money in exchange?
“Are you saying Ruby was ill?” Lily asked. “Mrs. Stanton?”
The teacher broke from her thoughts. “Oh, no, not the girl,” she said, causing but a flash of relief. “I was referring to Mrs. Dillard.”
