Shocked, I took in his thick neck and large head, my eyes traveling down to his broad shoulders and muscled arms that seemed too long for his barrel-shaped body. He gave an impression of compact strength, while at the same time being an inch or two shorter than me.
It was hard to tell how old he was because although his face was a cobweb of wrinkles, his hair was thick and black, and his eyes were bright and alert like a robin.
“So, you’re Kes’s girl,” he said, his high-pitched voice amused but not unkind.
I squared my shoulders and looked him in the eye. “No, I’m not. I’m Aimee.”
He grinned at me, his teeth very white in his dark face. “Hello, Aimee-not-Kes’s-girl. Back to see the show already?”
I must have looked surprised because he pointed to the corner of the bleachers where I’d sat two days before.
“You were here with your family.” He grinned at me again. “And now you’re here with Kes.”
“I’m just here,” I said, not sure why I felt defensive.
Maybe it was because Kes had been so dismissive of me. I hoped that if I ignored him, the strange little man would leave me alone.
But then I heard a chattering behind me and Mr. Albert jumped onto my back, winding his paws into my long hair and rubbing his face into my neck.
“Well, lookee there! I never seen him do that before. He must like you.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “He’s my friend,” I said proudly.
The little man edged closer, his face inches from mine. “You’ve been sprinkled with fairy dust, missy. The carnival is in your blood now.”
To be honest, he was creeping me out a bit and I hugged Mr. Albert a little too tightly, making him squawk and tug my hair.
I turned my eyes back to Kes, a habit that was already as natural as breathing. He was standing on the back of his galloping pony, balanced on his toes, his knees flexing to the rhythm. Then he leaped into the air, landing on the back of Con’s pony. The crowd cheered; then both boys stood up, using each other to balance, and together they jumped back onto Kes’s pony, moving with a synchronicity that was stunning to see and spoke of long hours of practice.
Their final showstopper was to perform a series of somersaults while they raced their ponies around barrels and over small jumps. I gasped as Kes cartwheeled off his pony, landing with perfect balance in the center of the arena to take his bow. As Jacob Jones raced around, Kes swung a leg across him again, and they galloped past me at full speed, hooves kicking up enough dust to make me cough.
Kes was dripping with sweat, rubbing a filthy hand across his forehead and fanning himself with his hat.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“You were amazing!” I gushed. “That was way more tricks than you did on Saturday.”
He nodded and used his shirtsleeve to mop his glowing face.
“Yeah, Jakey was off his feed on Saturday, so I took it easy on him. He sometimes gets like that when he’s been cooped up in a trailer the day before. He’s okay now.”
“Do you like traveling all the time? It must be amazing seeing new stuff.”
Kes shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t really know. We move around a lot.”
I followed him as he led his pony in slow circles, helping to cool him down.
“I have to take care of Jakey now, but I could show you the Ghost Train later if you like.”
I nodded enthusiastically, then watched as he did his chores.
“Who’s the funny guy with the bugle?” I asked.
Even though Kes had his back to me, I could tell that he’d gone stiff.
“That’s Ollo, and he’s not funny.”
I was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” I said at last, “I’ve just never seen anyone like him before. He reminded me of a character in ‘The Hobbit’.”
“You mean a dwarf,” said Kes, turning to stare at me.
My face was scarlet and I looked down. “I guess,” I said quietly.
Kes sighed. “He’s one of us.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I nodded like I did. Then I asked the question that had been burning on my lips.
“Where are your parents?”
Kes scowled. “You’re really nosy.”
I bit my lip and looked down. “You already know all about my parents, you’ve met them,” I reminded him.
“Mine aren’t around,” he said shortly.
I didn’t know what he meant. Were they dead, or living somewhere else? If they’d died, he’d say so, wouldn’t he? I hoped he’d tell me at some point, because I didn’t think I was brave enough to ask again.
I had to wait impatiently while Kes took care of Jakey, and it seemed like forever before he was satisfied that the pony was sufficiently cooled. I was impressed by how thorough he was, especially since he had such a carefree attitude to everything else. We walked further away from the carnival, and in the distance I could see Con walking the other two ponies.
After about 20 minutes, Kes led Jakey back to the patch of shade by the tarp, sponged him down with lukewarm water, letting him drink from the bucket. Just as I thought we could finally enjoy the Ghost Train, Con came back with the other two ponies and made it clear that Kes had to take care of them, as well.
Kes shot his brother a look, but didn’t argue.
This time I helped him, so besides being hot and sweaty, I smelled of horse, too. In other words, I stunk, but I didn’t care.
Kes didn’t thank me for helping him; he seemed to take it for granted that I would. Maybe I should have been annoyed.
Once all the ponies were settled with hay, we were free to go.
Kes stripped off his Western shirt and dunked it in the bucket of water that the ponies had been drinking from. Then he swung it over the fence, leaving it to dry. I guess that his laundry was done.
We wandered along to the Ghost Train, and every now and then, his warm skin would brush against my arm, giving me goose bumps.
At the Ghost Train, Kes walked to the front of the line casually, smirking at the annoyed shouts of the people waiting.
The carnie working the ride winked at him, and bowed us into the first car as if we were royalty. I was embarrassed and happy all at the same time, even more so when Kes casually slung his arm around me and squished me into his skinny chest. I pushed away from him and scowled, a move which made the carnie laugh and Kes’s cheeks redden.
I liked him, but I wasn’t having any of that!
Ten seconds later, I changed my mind. The ride was kind of silly, with dummies jumping out and someone dressed in a Halloween mask leering at us, but it scared me silly, and I was more than happy to burrow into Kes’s warm skin and shriek every time a cobweb brushed across my hair or back.
It was a long three minutes, and I couldn’t wait to get into daylight again. Kes was grinning at me, a very superior masculine smile on his face, that made his dimple pop. I’d see a lot more of that expression in the years that followed.
As the light began to fade from the sky and the heat dwindled enough to make it bearable, Kes led me back to his trailer and made messy sandwiches for me and Mr. Albert. Con was stretched out in the shade of the RV, studying what looked like a math book.
“He can read?” I whispered.
Kes shrugged and looked down. “Yeah, Con’s really smart. He wants to go to college.”
I heard the pain and resignation in his voice, and it made me more determined than ever to help him if I could—if he’d let me.
I was about to suggest getting my book out again when Dono came back.
“Time to get you home, young lady,” he said.
I glanced nervously at Kes, but I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t going to argue.
Sighing, I stood up and helplessly brushed the dirt from my clothes. I looked a mess; Mom would be fit to be tied when she saw me.
“And you, Kes,” ordered Dono. “You’ve got some explaining to do. Put a s
hirt on and wash your face.”
Kes looked like he was about to say something, but then changed his mind. Con watched us curiously as I shifted from foot to foot, his grandpa’s stare making me squirm.
When Kes was ready, we walked solemnly toward an ancient looking truck, then drove the 200 yards to my house.
Mom was opening the door before the engine died. In the silence that followed, I could hear it popping as it cooled.
“I believe this is yours, ma’am,” Dono said, nodding at me.
Mom was flustered.
“Where have you been, Aimee? I’ve been going out of my mind! I was going to call your father.”
An icy shiver trickled down my spine.
“Sorry, Mom,” I choked out. “I just wanted … I wanted…”
What had I wanted? I couldn’t even put it into words. Taste the forbidden? Leave my safe little cocoon to experience something different? I wasn’t sure.
Kes stood there, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his handsome face surly. Every fiber in his body screamed that he’d rather walk across hot coals than stand in front of my mom.
“Well,” she said breathlessly. “You’re home now, that’s all that matters. Anything could have happened to you and…”
“No, ma’am,” Dono interrupted. “Nothing will happen to Aimee while she’s with my boy, I can promise you that.”
He threw a hard look at Kes, who shuffled his feet impatiently.
“It seems like these two have become friends,” Dono went on. “Your girl has been helping Kes with his reading. You could say that he’s missed out on some schooling—it seems innocent enough to me.”
I knew that he was sending Mom a message, I just wasn’t sure what it was.
“I see,” said Mom, although she still looked puzzled.
“If Miss Aimee wants to visit us again, she’ll be looked after, ma’am. In fact, she’d be very welcome.”
There was no way Mom could be immune to Dono’s surprisingly beautiful manners. You could be a mass murderer, but as long as you spoke nicely and were polite, you’d be welcome in Mom’s home. I guess that was the southerner in her; at least, that’s what Dad always said.
“I see,” Mom said again. “Well, thank you for bringing her home, Mr…?”
“Donahue,” he supplied. “Nathanael Donahue.”
“Well, Mr. Donahue, Kes, I thank you for taking such good care of Aimee. I surely appreciate that.”
Dono nodded and turned to leave. Kes followed and then looked over his shoulder and grinned.
That dimple was going to be the death of me.
Mom didn’t have the heart to tell Dad about my jaunt, so it remained our secret. Jennifer had gone to stay with a friend, so no one else knew that I spent the rest of the week with Kes.
Each day I read him another chapter from ‘The Hobbit’ and then we’d spend some time practicing letters. Kes got easily frustrated and I had to be super patient and give him a time-out when he shouted at me. Sometimes I needed a time-out, too, because he’d make me mad enough to spit.
Mr. Albert used to join our study sessions, sitting in my lap or playing with my hair, chattering quietly.
Then Kes would have to go do his show, and I’d sit in the front row, pleased as punch to see his acrobatics and hear the roar of the crowd.
Some old hypocrites had done their best to whip up trouble, blaming the carnies for everything from a pick pocketing in town to a bad harvest, and a bunch of them got riled up enough to head over to the carnival with the intention of having it shut down.
Everyone—meaning Mom and Dad—expected a fight, and Mom’s fingers hovered over 911, but later Kes told me that Dono calmed everything down and showed them the permits, and the townsmen went away with their tails between their legs.
I didn’t entirely trust Dono, and I hadn’t forgotten that he’d given Kes a fat lip, but I had to concede that he was wily enough to outsmart pretty much everyone, including those old hymn-singing biddies, like Mrs. Flock.
I was pleased about that. The two hours I spent in church every Sunday morning seemed long enough to build my own ark, sail it around the world, and still be back for the homily.
But time was running out in a very real way, and soon the carnies would be packing up and moving on to the next town. I was dreading it.
On our last night, Kes took me up in the Ferris wheel. I don’t know why, but we’d both been avoiding it, like it was a giant period at the end of our two-week sentence. But tonight, that was where we headed.
Kes had finished his final show and the ponies were cleaned up. We both smelled of horse and sweat and hay and sunshine. We walked down the midway, the backs of our hands brushing together, we were so close, and even though we were surrounded by people, it felt like we two were the last in the whole world.
Kes caught my elbow and hauled me to the head of the line, ignoring the angry stares that bounced off his bony back.
“Ike, we need a bucket for ourselves,” he said.
The carnie smiled shrewdly. He was only a few years older than Jennifer and probably should have still been in high school. He was thin and slightly stooped, but the muscles in his forearms were corded, giving him a wiry, dangerous appearance.
I took a step closer to Kes, uncomfortable with the carnie’s eyes studying me from tip to toe.
“You want me to stop it when it gets to the top, Kes? Give you time to … do whatever?”
I felt my cheeks flush at the insinuation, but Kes just looked at him levelly.
“You want me to tell Grandpa you said that? You know she’s protected.”
I didn’t know what he meant, but the carnie did, because he backed off instantly.
“Just messin’ with you, Kes. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
As we climbed in, Ike clicked the safety bar into place and pulled a lever. The bucket shuddered and swung, and I held on tightly. We rose a few feet, then stopped as the next group were loaded in.
Slowly, we rose upwards, and at last I could see the whole carnival laid out beneath me. Happy sounds drifted up on the still air and the lights glittered like jewels. I could see our house, I could see my hickory tree, and I could see the town in the distance, dark and sullen compared to the bright lights surrounding me.
Behind us, the sun was sinking in a stunning display of pinks and purples, reds and yellows, the shadows slowly lengthening.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed. “I wish I’d come up here before.”
Kes shrugged. “I come up here every night after you’ve gone home.”
My breath stuttered and that pebble of disappointment rolled around in my stomach.
“Oh,” I said, my broad vocabulary reduced to a single syllable.
Kes turned his head to look at me, and for once his smile was gentle.
“I can see your house from here,” he said. “I can see your tree and your bedroom window. Nobody bothers me up here, so that’s when I think of you.”
“Oh,” I said again, but this time a smile was in the sound.
“I’ve never had a real friend before,” Kes said, his eyes searching out the edges of the horizon. “I didn’t know I was missing anything.”
I heard what he wasn’t saying, at least I think I did. “I’ll miss you, too.”
His eyes fell to my clasped hands and he plucked them apart, his palms rough and dry as he held my fingers.
“I’ll come back next year.”
“I’ll wait for you,” I said sadly. “I could write you?”
Kes pulled a face and looked down. “I don’t read good enough for that.”
“I could send you a picture postcard,” I offered gently. “And I’ll sign my name so you know it’s from me.”
He smiled brightly, his dimple deepening.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked, softly as if he was sure I’d say no.
I took a deep breath. My first kiss was going to be at the top of a Ferris wheel. I’d never heard of anything more romanti
c.
“Okay,” I said, wiping my mouth with my sleeve.
Kes leaned in and I felt his dry lips press against my cheek.
I turned to stare at him and he was grinning, looking inordinately proud of himself.
We held hands for the rest of the ride, and I’d never been happier.
If life truly is about balance, then I should have expected the misery that followed Kes’s departure.
I watched, distraught, as the rides that I’d once thought monstrous, were broken down into humiliated lumps of metal. Canvas and tarps were folded and rolled and stacked away. Jacob Jones and the other ponies were loaded into a trailer and Mr. Albert clung to me, pushing his head into my neck and gripping my hair tightly.
“He’ll miss you,” said Kes.
I nodded, because I was afraid that if I spoke, I’d start to cry. And I didn’t want to be a girl in front of Kes.
Con sat in the cab of the RV, his feet on the dashboard, reading a book. He didn’t even look up as Kes climbed in and settled Mr. Albert on his knee.
“Bye,” I said, my voice cracked and hoarse.
Kes smiled tightly, torn between being cool and wanting to say goodbye. Even then I could read the mix of emotions he tried so hard to hide.
He waved quickly then fixed his eyes on the road ahead. Dono nodded once and gunned the engine.
The cavalcade exited the field one at a time in a blast of diesel fumes, and I could pretend that it was the grit in my eyes that made me cry.
I watched as the huge trucks disappeared into the distance. When I turned to look behind me, Mr. Peterson’s field was battered and barren. Holes from tent pegs cracked the dry earth, and wide dusty tracks marked where the midway had been. Scraps of litter nestled in the few remaining stalks of grass, and a couple of empty bottles glinted dully in the sunshine.
I had two weeks of memories that shone as insubstantial as my dreams, and fifty long weeks to wait for my life to start again.
I sat on the grass and cried.
The last days of summer crept by slowly. For everyone else, like Jennifer and my friends from school, summer raced past with dizzying speed, but to me it seemed to drag and stumble, and all the color had been leeched out of the world. I couldn’t bear to read ‘The Hobbit’ anymore, so I stuffed it to the back of my bookshelf, a candy wrapper marking the last page that I’d read aloud to Kes.
The Traveling Man Page 4