Piece By Piece (Complete)

3. Promise

Sang

One of them followed me. I could hear his faint breathing, his even, measured steps, and I sighed. This wasn't where I needed to be right now, I thought, thinking about the girls in the other room, the "stroll in the garden" one of those men who wore their privilege like a second skin would eventually suggest.

I peeked at the man that had followed me from my position behind the bookcase in the sitting room. I'd learned a while ago that if I kept it pushed out just so I could slip behind it easily, one of the few benefits of being small for my age. He was wearing a black suit and dark green tie, carefully assessing every inch of the room. He was ridiculously handsome too, I thought, and realized he'd been the one talking about saving us - them, I corrected myself. I didn't need saving as much as some of the others did. He ran a hand through his blonde curls, disheveling them, and I was distracted, which was the only excuse I had for not hearing Mistress coming until she was in the room, a too wide smile on her face when she saw him.

"Oh! Mr..."

"Sean," he said, and the smile he sent her melted me, even if I was observing it second hand. "And you must be miss..."

"Ms. Sorenson," she replied, and despite the fact she was facing away from me, her body language said it all. A manicured hand fiddled with the necklace at her throat as she closed the space between them. "Did you not find a pet to your liking?"

Her voice was lower now, and I looked back at Sean, curious to see how he would answer. "I believe I did," he murmured, that smile still devastating my heart - I'm sure hers as well. "But I seem to have lost her."

No. No no no—

"Lost her?" my mother continued, and I could hear the doubt in her voice. He was going to make things worse. "All—"

I couldn't risk her knowing he'd seen me, was looking for me. I stepped out from behind the bookcase and pressed a finger to my lips, shaking my head, communicating fiercely with my eyes not to mention anything else.

I knew he'd seen me, but his eyes barely betrayed this as he wrapped an arm around my mother and began leading her out.

"I meant to another buyer," he explained breezily, placing her hand over his arm as he glanced back, his eyes meeting mine. I could see that they were a brilliant green, and nothing except compassion shone through them. And I knew then that he would keep the secret. I could trust him, and just the thought alone made my heart swell. He was here to help. "But perhaps my partner—" he continued.

"Oh, are you married?" she asked, and I rolled my eyes.

He chuckled. "Heavens no. Owen's a business associate..." I heard him ramble as he guided her down the hallway, and I felt a weight lift off of my chest.

I waited a few more minutes, making sure they were gone before I hurried out of the room, avoiding a pair of stoic faced guards as I made my way toward the adoption center. Hastily I took out one of the rags I kept in the apron tied around my waist in case someone saw me. If they didn't immediately think to tell the Mistress, I might be able to get away with claiming I was doing some last minute sprucing. At least I hoped.

Suddenly a hand grabbed me and I was yanked into another hallway, my scream catching in my throat until I saw the kind green eyes and teasing smile that I knew belonged to the man I'd seen earlier. Sean.

He looked over my face, arms, hands, fingers, which I then realized he was still holding and now examining critically. "Pumpkin—"

He was going to ask what had happened to me, and we didn't have time. "Sarah Jane, Abigail, and Caroline," I said quickly, the names of the girls whose parents had abandoned them in this place and who I'd been saving from the harshest of my mother's punishments for disobedience. "Please, if you—"

"Whoa, pumpkin, hold on," he said, and then he was reaching toward my face and I stilled, shrinking away from his touch. He stopped immediately, his eyes burning. "Are you alright?"

He was still concerned with me. "You're here to save them right?" I asked instead, desperate.

He didn't answer right away and a sinking pit formed in my stomach. Immediately I wondered if this whole thing had been some elaborate test—

"Yes," he said, taking my hands and meeting my gaze. "Yes."

I felt air return to my lungs and I nodded. "Here," I whispered, taking out the felt tip marker I kept with me. I began writing the girls' names furiously on the cloth rag I was holding and he just watched, quiet. "I know you can't get all of them. But..." I looked at the short list. "These three. If... if you can only take one..." I fought back the small burn in my throat at the thought of him only being able to save one of them. "Take Abigail," I finally whispered. "She's only ten."

His expression hardened at my words, and he carefully placed a warm hand on my shoulder, that simple, soothing touch grounding me. "We'll do the best we can," he replied, his gaze earnest, and I nodded. That was all any of us could do.

"What's your name?" he asked, and I stilled. He couldn't know, just in case.

"It doesn't matter," I said absently. "Will you help?" I held out the list toward him and he nodded as he took it, his fingers just brushing mine, sending a warmth through me.

"I promise."