by Kirby Larson
Bolstered by her sisters and with an only slightly trembling voice, Lilac bravely confessed to having overheard Divinity’s late-night revelation.
“I said nothing of the sort!” Divinity’s mouth wrinkled up as if she’d just eaten an entire lemon. She turned away from the other girls for a moment, pushing books around on the nearest shelf until all the spines lined up just so. “I mean, it was likely a bad dream.”
“I tried not to listen. But your voice does carry so.” Lilac twisted the hem of her pinafore. “A farm sounds lovely. Though the name is a bit sad: Woebegone’s Way.”
Divinity’s head jerked. “You heard … everything?” she asked.
Lilac hung her head, full of remorse.
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
The youngest of the triplets slipped her hands into her pinafore pockets. “Only my sisters.”
Divinity paced back and forth on the large rug in front of the grand Dutch-tiled fireplace. She stomped so hard, Lilac feared she would wear a hole right through. “All right. So you know. What are you going to tell Miss Maisie?”
“Why, nothing!” Lilac looked up at the taller Wayward in genuine surprise. “It’s not our story to tell. It’s yours.”
To the triplets’ complete and utter shock, a tear bobbed up in Divinity’s eye. They had never seen her cry. No one had!
Their soft hearts could not bear such sorrow. The little girls rushed around Divinity, enveloping her in a hug. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” Lavender reassured with gentle pats on the back.
After a moment, Divinity cleared her throat and the circle eased apart, all four Waywards studying their boot toes in embarrassment.
When they had first gathered in the library, Violet had been determined to explain their plan to Divinity, but the moment of tenderness had derailed her.
It was Divinity herself who took the lead. “Why did you bring my—I mean the—farm up at this moment?” she asked.
The triplets exchanged glances. Violet was still so stupefied by the thought of Divinity having feelings like everyone else, that she was speechless. Uncharacteristically, Lavender took the lead. Out poured the whole story—as much as they knew it—from Audie.
“And so you see,” Lilac said, completing her recitation, “we need a farm. And you have a farm—”
“That I don’t need,” Divinity inserted, folding her arms across her chest. “Or want.”
Again, the trio exchanged glances.
“So—” Violet began. This seemed to be going very badly. Audie would be so disappointed in them. They might even be ousted from the Order of Percy! Her lower lip began to quiver.
“So.” Divinity retied the strings of her pinafore. “I’ll ride the bicycle into town right after lunch and send a telegram informing that lawyer to make all the arrangements.” She stood tall in the center of the room. “Tell Audie Woebegone’s Way is hers.”
Jamie tugged at the shirt collar he’d been made to wear. His assistant elephant trainer attire had not passed muster with the Shuberts. They sent him straightaway to the wardrobe mistress, who wrangled him into a navy cutaway jacket, black trousers, and white shirt so heavily starched Jamie could barely bend his arms.
“You’re a handsome one,” she pronounced, setting a black bowler over his thick hair.
No one had ever complimented Jamie Doolan on his appearance before. He snuck a peek in a backstage mirror. He didn’t look half bad, even if he said so himself. But it seemed like a lot of fuss just to hand out programs.
He tipped his hat to Baby. “I clean up pretty fine, don’t I?”
Baby answered with a snuffle. He stood patiently while Jamie affixed a gigantic blue ribbon around his neck. “What do you think about this nonsense?” Jamie wondered aloud. Because he knew Baby had thoughts. Rich and deep and elephant-like. Jamie had filled his free hours studying those books from Audie. Some mighty interesting stuff in there, all right. Elephants were complicated creatures. Jamie calculated that a person could study them for a lifetime and still have only a thimbleful of knowledge.
“Ready to get to our station?” Jamie reached into his pocket and brought out a large key. He worked it into the lock at Baby’s foot and released him from the metal manacle. The welts on Baby’s skin pained him as much as if he himself were wounded. That was why he’d signed on with Audie. The girl juggler had no doubts their plan would work. But Jamie was not as certain. Life had taught him to be wary. Even so, he’d thrown his lot in with her and her cat. Jamie would clutch at any straw, do anything—even give up his own freedom—to help Baby.
Jamie clucked his tongue and Baby followed, through the cage doors, out of the basement, and up a ramp to the street. They had a bit of a walk from the theater’s rear door to the front entrance, where Baby was to hand out programs to patrons. And there was a stop to be made along the way.
Outside, the young elephant balked at the street commotion—Jamie could only imagine what Baby thought of all the smells. And all the horses and automobiles and people created a racket such as this little one never would hear in his homeland.
“There, Baby. ’Tis all right.” Jamie walked backward, leading his charge to the corner of Forty-Third and Sixth. He crooned the words to “Hush Ye, My Bairnie,” and would’ve been hard-pressed to say whether it was to calm Baby or himself.
Minutes passed. And no sign of Audie. His heart sank, but he had to face facts. This was yet another lollipop dream. How could two orphans work wonders? Jamie patted Baby’s side, ready to admit defeat.
Then he saw her.
“I was afraid you’d turned chicken,” he exclaimed.
Audie set Min down to catch her breath. “My word is my bond,” she assured him. “Are we ready to bargain?”
He reached into his pocket. “Here’s everything I’ve got.”
She glanced at the bills and coins in Jamie’s callused palm. “That should be enough.” She wiggled her left foot in her boot, hoping she wouldn’t have to use the remaining gold coin from her inheritance. But if that was required, that was what she would do. She felt quite certain her parents would approve.
Attired in her Pomegranto costume—the time was fast approaching for the big show—Audie fell in step with Jamie as he led the way, with an elephant and cat padding along behind. The wagon master was at the appointed meeting place with the required equipment. He withheld comment on Audie’s appearance but frowned as he counted the money. “This is a little short of what we discussed,” he grumbled.
Audie, ever truthful, acknowledged the accuracy of his observation. “There are more important things in this world than gold and silver,” she asserted.
The wagon master stared. “Such as?”
“Emerson said, ‘Doing well is the result of doing good,’ ” she replied.
The man continued to stare.
“Ralph Waldo Emerson,” Audie clarified.
“Is Ralph going to come up with the difference?” The wagon master appeared to be unmoved by Audie’s appeal to his conscience. “I’m not in the charity business, you know.”
At that moment an impatient Min jumped to the wagon bed.
“Hey, get away, you scamp!” The wagon master moved to shoo her off. But Min’s tail twitched twice, freezing the man’s hands in midair. He blinked. Glanced again at the baby elephant and at the money in his hand. “I guess it looks about right, after all.” He stuffed the bills and coins into his pocket.
Audie signaled her extreme gratitude to Min, while Jamie stood, dumbfounded. “Shall we continue?” Audie nudged Jamie gently with her elbow.
“What?” He shook his head. “Oh yes.” He appeared to bring himself back to the situation at hand. “Give me twenty minutes. Is everything ready?”
“Now or never,” the wagon master replied.
Jamie turned to Audie. “Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it.” She stuck out her hand. “Do stay in touch.”
Jamie’s mind was already on the next steps, act
ions that would forever change the course of his life. Houdini might have no trouble vanishing an elephant, but it was another thing altogether to make one truly disappear. The assistant elephant keeper only hoped their plan would work as well in reality as it had seemed to work on paper. He had no desire to go to jail. He became aware of Audie’s outstretched hand. “I promise.”
After the handshake, Audie brushed her palms together. “That’s it, then. I’d best get backstage.” Before she had gone two steps, her shadow materialized.
“Whatcha doing?” Daisy turned her infamous squint on the pair.
Jamie gulped. Audie’s mind frantically juggled possible answers. But as ever, our girl was truthful. “We’re rescuing that elephant,” she said. “Baby.”
Daisy’s hand scrubbed at her nose. “You’re doing no such thing.”
The coconspirators exchanged glances. “We certainly aim to give it a shot,” Audie answered.
“That’s crazy,” Daisy said.
“There are many who would agree with you,” Audie replied pleasantly.
Daisy squinted at them again. “Who owns this here elephant?”
Jamie shoved his hands in his pockets, rattled with nerves. “The time,” he reminded Audie.
Again, Audie could be nothing but honest. “Technically, the Shubert brothers.”
“Not you?” Squint.
“No.” Audie shook her head.
“Sounds like I should call the cops, then.” Daisy put her fingers to her mouth, ready to let loose a scalding whistle.
Baby reached out his trunk. Felt around Daisy’s shoulders. The pickle seller batted him away.
Audie did so hate to be rude. But every moment was precious, and if they spent much more time squabbling with Daisy, the plan would have no chance at all. She squeezed her hands into fists and waved them threateningly. “I’ll be obliged to give you a knuckle sandwich if you don’t step out of our way.”
Daisy gaped. She choked. Then she burst out laughing. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about fisticuffs,” she scoffed, “ ’cept what you read in a book—”
“That is true,” Audie conceded, fists still at the ready.
“Give it a rest.” Daisy reached into her pocket and pulled out a sugar cube, which she fed to Baby. “Looks like you could use my help.”
“Allow me.” The Great Oberon swung his cape over his shoulder and held out his hand to assist Theo down the last few steps from the upstairs dressing room.
“Thank you.” Distracted, she tried to hurry by the man. She had much to do before meeting her fellow Pomegrantos for one last run-through.
“Would you like a signed photograph?” Oberon held out an eight-by-ten glossy. He’d made sure that his publicity photos were larger than Houdini’s.
Theo hesitated, then took it. “Thank you.” But the Great Oberon did not let go of the photo. He tugged it close, thus tugging Theo closer. From his vest pocket, he pulled a watch. He swung it in front of her eyes.
“Do not forget,” he said. “You have an important job tonight.”
“An important job,” Theo echoed, each word flat as a river rock.
“You know exactly what to do?” he pressed.
“The mirrors.” She nodded. “Move the mirrors.”
“Good girl.” He slipped the watch back into his vest, and snapped his fingers. “Break a leg tonight, young lady.”
Theo blinked, stretched, yawned. “Oh yes. Thank you, sir.” She gave a nod and hurried off to find the rest of her ensemble.
Wurme allowed himself a hearty laugh. To think: In a short time, he would witness Harry Houdini falling flat on his face. And at the ready in the wings would be the man who would not only take Houdini’s place on the stage, but would take his place in the world of magic. Wylie Wurme allowed himself several moments to imagine his new and glorious future: audiences with royalty, suites at grand hotels, women in minks eager to buy him dinner. And Houdini would be nothing more than a smashed bug on the windshield of Wurme’s new Delaunay-Belleville touring car, ruing the day he had ill-treated Wylie Wurme by rejecting his membership application to the Society of American Magicians.
Revenge was delicious.
Bert’s eyes were glued to his pocket watch. Soon, he would dash to the various dressing rooms to shout, “Five minutes, please.” The final dash would be to the dressing room of Harry Houdini, calling him out to perform what might be his most fantastic illusion ever.
“Isn’t it magical, sir?” one of the young stagehands asked. “Being present to see Mr. Houdini make an entire elephant disappear?”
Moaning, the stage manager flapped his hands at the boy as if trying to make him disappear.
“Are you well, sir?” the young man asked.
“As well as can be expected,” Bert replied. “Go check on—” He waved his hand deeper backstage, an action that encompassed much instruction.
“A word, Bert?” The Great Oberon appeared at the stage manager’s elbow, carrying a large canvas satchel.
“I’m very busy.” Bert rubbed his forehead. Who was this? Not the juggler. And not the seal man. He remembered. That audition. “We’re about to open the curtain. This isn’t the time—”
The Great Oberon smiled. “Well, Bert, my time is nearer at hand than you realize.”
“All right, all right, Algernon—”
“Oberon!” Wylie Wurme hadn’t quite worked out how he was going to permanently take over that stage name. Apparently, the real Oberon had gone west, seeking his fortune, taking his Asrah Levitation gear with him. That was why Wylie couldn’t add that illusion to his repertoire, why he’d had to fake those robberies. Maybe it was Canada that Oberon had set out for. Did it truly matter? He hadn’t been heard from in years. After tonight, he would be the Great Oberon. And Wylie wouldn’t rely on cheap tricks like the Asrah Levitation. He would produce grander and grander illusions. Make an elephant vanish? Posh. That was baby stuff. He would—well, he hadn’t actually thought about what he would do to surpass Houdini. What was larger than an elephant? A city? Yes, that was it. He, the Great Oberon, would make an entire city disappear! Of course, he wouldn’t start with New York. Much too large. What about that burg he’d passed through on the train? Swayzee, Indiana, that was it. He would make Swayzee, Indiana, disappear. That was a place no one would miss, or he was no magician.
Wurme continued. “Far be it from me to cast aspersions on a fellow performer.” He coughed into his fist. “But it seems to me that this evening Mr. Houdini is promising a great deal more than he can deliver.”
“Why would you say that?” Bert sneezed right in Wurme’s face. “Pardon me.”
“Vanish an elephant?” Wurme’s eyes widened. “I mean, really.”
Bert vigorously blew his nose. Oh, if he lived to be one hundred, he would never, ever, deal with magicians again. A definite career change was called for, and soon. Maybe he could help his cousin with his dynamite business.
“On the outside chance that Mr. Houdini is not able to fulfill his promises”—Wurme reached into his satchel—“I am most willing to step in.” He produced a fistful of handbills.
Bert ignored the sheets presented him. “Nothing will go wrong tonight. Now, in the name of liverwurst, get out of my hair!”
Before the Great Oberon could say more, the young stagehand came running.
“Now what?” Bert tore at his thinning hair like a madman.
“The walrus,” the boy said.
“Walrus?” The stage manager grabbed hold of the boy and shook him like a rag doll. “We have no walrus.”
Eyes rattling, the stagehand tried to gather his thoughts. It was a creature of the sea, he was certain. Slimy thing, too. And reeked to high heaven. “Seal!” he spat out. “The seal.”
Bert sucked in a great breath. “What about it?”
The boy grabbed his sleeve. “You’d just better come along,” was all he could manage.
They were both gone in a flash, leaving the Great Oberon standing
alone. No matter. After tonight, he would never again be alone. The admiring crowds would press so tightly around him that he’d be imprinted with their buttons. He could wait. It was only a matter of an hour or so before his marvelous dreams would come true.
* * *
Shortly before the Pomegrantos went on, they rehearsed backstage one last time. Bimmy fumbled an easy cascade.
“Are you nervous, chum?” Audie asked.
“A little.” Bimmy struggled with whether to tell Audie what she’d been thinking about. Theo’s laboratory had been so fascinating. And though Bimmy had never before allowed herself such dreams, the notion of assistant scientist fell on her shoulders like a warm, well-fitting coat. Yet how could she ever part from Audie? Bimmy bit another fingernail down to the quick.
“I too must confess to a case of nerves.” Theo pushed her spectacles up on her nose.
“We’re going to knock them dead.” Audie performed a shower with three small rubber balls. She fumbled at the end. “Well.” She shrugged. “At least we’ll try.”
Cypher paced backstage left. It was one thing to juggle balls; it was another to juggle people. Keeping an eye on Theo and Houdini stretched him thin. And then there were his charges. On top of everything else, whose idea was it that they wear tassels? No man should be made to wear tassels. “I’m not going on,” he called over to the girls. “I feel ridiculous.”
“Nonsense,” Audie replied. Certain schemes revolved around the act going on as planned. Exactly as planned. “A person can do anything once,” she encouraged her mentor.
“When you get out on the stage, you won’t even notice what you’ve got on,” Bimmy offered. “I’ve worn worse costumes than this, but once I began my bit, it didn’t matter. Not one iota.” She reached out to pat Cypher but pulled back as she took in his expression. “It’s not about what we’re wearing. It’s all about the fantasy we create.” She grinned. “Though we may actually have to hypnotize this audience to convince them we’re jugglers.”