“Yes, ma’am.” Fran cut the deck once, twice, three times, stacking the cards back together after each cut. Her hands were steady, although her heart was pounding. The trailer seemed too small; the walls were too strange.
Juniper’s skill with the cards was well-known to the members of the circus, and presumably, to the carnival that circus had become. What she saw, was. It was simple as that.
Watching Juniper as she laid the cards face-down on the table in a complicated cross, Fran wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“The signifier,” said Juniper, and flipped over the first card.
The card--watercolor on poster board, pencil lines still showing through the wash of color--showed a woman in blue jeans and a flannel shirt sitting astride a palomino pony, her face turned toward the setting sun, her back to the viewer. Text was written around the edges of the card. Juniper tapped it with one finger.
“‘Out Where the West Begins,’” she said, naming the card and the poem written around its border at the same time. “You carry the west with you. ‘Where there’s more of singing and less of sighing’...that’s you, sugar-pumpkin. It always has been, no matter where you were living.”
“That ain’t part of a normal fortune deck,” protested Fran weakly.
“Bibliomancy is a tricky thing. If you want to use it to read the cards, you have to make your own cards.” Juniper reached for the next card. “The present course.”
This card showed a woman in white, her belly large below the white drape of her gown, standing in the shadow of a hanging tree. “‘Sweet Margaret by the Hanging Tree,’” said Juniper. “There she waits, and every day she knows it’s a little less likely her love will come to her--”
“Now hold on one damn minute--” Fran began.
Juniper raised a hand. “Calm, now. This doesn’t mean he’s leaving you, or anything like that. You’ve got eyes, and so have I, and anyone can see that boy thinks the world of you. No, it just means you still have choices. You can walk away, if that’s what you decide.”
“I’m almost nine months pregnant, Juney, I don’t think I’d get very far,” said Fran mildly.
“You could come with us when we go,” said Juniper.
It felt like all the air left the trailer. Fran sat mute and staring as Juniper reached for the next card.
“The choice,” she said, and turned it over to show a crossroad in a snowy wood. “‘The Road Not Taken,’” she said. Then she looked to Fran, brows raised, waiting. “Two paths diverge in a snowy wood, my darling. Which one are you along? The one you know, or the one you don’t? You can’t have them both. We never can, in this life.” She chuckled a little, darkly. “Maybe that’s why the ghosts trouble me so much. They’re looking for a way to head on down that other road.”
“The one I don’t,” said Fran, finding her voice. “I’ve never been one for holding to the familiar.”
“No, you haven’t,” said Juniper, and flipped the card to the left of the snowy woods. “The choice once made,” she said.
This card showed a boat floating on a lake, with two people--one male, one female--riding inside. Their faces were concealed by an umbrella. Or a parasol, Fran supposed. It was always so hard to tell, with make-believe people.
“‘A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky,’” said Juniper, and read from the card, “‘Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies.’ You’ll have your share of ghosts if you stay here. Some will be friendly, some won’t. Some might even make themselves at home. You’ll make a few, too, in your time.”
“That’s all right,” said Fran. “You can’t help making a ghost or two when you do what we do.”
“Ah, yes,” said Juniper, and flipped the next card. This one was a silhouette only, a woman with a shotgun in her hands reflected in black against a white wall. “‘Supposing,’” she said, and then read, “ ‘Supposing a haunt appeared to you, and a big black rooster up and crew? Well, supposing?’” She glanced at Fran, eyes canny and quick.
Fran met them without flinching. “We’d have chicken and dumplings for dinner.”
“Oh, Fran,” said Juniper, and laughed. “You’ll hunt monsters all your life; you’ll die with a gun in your hand, and you won’t have any time for regrets. I don’t know when or why that will happen. There’s too much tangled up around it. But that’s what waits for you here.”
Fran swallowed the lump that was trying to form in her throat, and shrugged. “Don’t care.”
Juniper turned the next card. It was a woman in a green dress. “Even if I told you that you were married in green?”
“‘Married in green, you’ll not long be seen,’” recited Fran, without pause. “I’d say it doesn’t matter, Juney. I’ve seen things since I came here...shoot, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and you guard your bedroom against ghosts. I found a man worth lovin’, and he loves me back. I’ve got a baby on the way, and I can’t wait to find out what happens when you mix Johnny and me together. Shoot. Married in green? That’s the worst you can throw at me? That’s not going to be a problem. I always knew I couldn’t stay this lucky forever.”
Juniper paused in the act of reaching for the last card. Then she smiled and leaned across the table to put her hand on Fran’s shoulder. “You know, you’re right,” she said. “If that’s the worst the future has to offer you, you’re going to be one lucky bride, Frances Brown. I’m just as pleased as can be that I’m here to see it happen.”
“Me, too, Juney,” said Fran. “Me, too.”
“You want a glass of water?”
“I think...” Fran paused, choosing her words carefully before she said, “I think I’d rather walk back, if you don’t mind too much. It’s been a more exciting day than I had bargained for, and I’m supposed to be getting married in the morning. Besides.” She grinned suddenly, that bright circus poster smile that used to bring the townies in from miles around. “You haven’t met the mice yet. Let me tell you, Juney, they’re just about going to blow your mind.”
“Well, then,” said Juniper. “I guess I’ll walk you back to the house.”
Jonathan Healy was exactly where he had been for the past two hours: standing by the kitchen window with his hands folded tightly behind his back, watching the carnival folk mill around the back field, and waiting for his bride-to-be to make her way back.
“Relax, Johnny,” said his father, walking up beside him and clapping him heavily on the shoulder. “She’s fine out there. Those are her folks, and you did a good thing by bringing them here for her wedding.”
“Yes, I know,” said Jonathan distantly, eyes staying fixed on the window. “They’re the people who raised her. They know her better than anyone else in the world. If anyone could persuade her not to make a mistake, it’s them. Honestly, it’s a wonder she ever left them to begin with.”
Alexander Healy paused to give his son a sidelong look. “Johnny,” he said, “you don’t really know much about women, do you? Lord knows, your mother and I tried, but you never did take to the townsfolk. I always assumed you did some courting while you were off at college...”
“There wasn’t time,” said Jonathan. “I had studies to finish.”
“Ah. Well, then, as one man to another, can I give you some advice on the eve of your wedding day? Just friendly-like? Before your lovely fiancé snaps all your fingers off?”
Jonathan turned to blink at him. Finally, sounding dubious, he said, “All right...”
“Don’t assume she’s making a mistake. It insults you both. A woman like Fran knows what she wants, and if she didn’t want to marry you, she’d never have slept with you. Now, I won’t pretend having her pregnant without a ring on her finger hasn’t been a little hard to explain here in town, but that baby’s not a mistake, either. That’s your son or daughter, and my grandchild, and I can’t wait.”
“Ah.” Jonathan smiled and turned back to the window. “You know, this isn’t what I intended when I brought her back here.”
“I
know. Your mother would have tanned your hide if she thought you’d gone shopping for a bride while you were in Arizona. Frannie had her own ideas about things. That’s what makes her so good for you. She’ll never stop challenging you to be better than you are.”
“Does Mother do that for you?”
Alexander nodded. “Every day of my life.”
Jonathan started to reply, and stopped as he saw Fran come walking slowly across the field, led by a black-haired woman who was clearly trying to conceal how much support she was offering to her pregnant friend. “Excuse me,” he said, and stepped away from the window, heading for the back door.
“Go right ahead, son,” said Alexander, and smiled as he watched Jonathan move outside to help Fran up the stairs.
It really was a good match. Assuming they could manage a wedding with no unexpected deaths, it would be a remarkable one.
Fran was all but glowing when Jonathan came outside to meet her. Her exhaustion was evident in the pinched lines around her eyes and mouth, but it didn’t seem to matter all that much; sheer joy was keeping her on her feet, and looked likely to do so for quite some time to come.
“You could have told me, you know,” she mock-scolded, as she took his hands and let him ease her up the shallow porch steps. “Surprises aren’t good for a lady in my delicate condition.”
“Take it up with Mother,” said Jonathan. “She’s one who approved of this entire lunatic plan, even down to the surprise at the root of it.” He looked over Fran’s shoulder to Juniper, who was looking on approvingly. “You must be Geneva Campbell. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“My friends call me Juniper,” she said, and followed Fran up the stairs. “Thank you for inviting us, and for hosting us on your land. It’s very charitable of you.”
“Not at all,” said Jonathan. “A carnival can’t help but improve our standing in this town, providing your lot doesn’t burn anything down or unleash any previously unseen monsters on the livestock.”
Juniper blinked before shooting Fran a sidelong look. “Is he for real?”
“Yeah, he is.” Fran patted Jonathan’s arm fondly. “Not only does he talk like this all the time, but he does it because all that stuff has actually happened around us. Sometimes more than once. Turns out being a Healy brings a parcel of problems along for the ride.”
A flicker of alarm crossed Jonathan’s face. Fran laughed.
“Problems I have willingly and intentionally taken on my own head,” she said, and kissed his cheek. “Don’t make faces, you know I always see them. I’m takin’ Juney up to observe evening services. You need anything before I start dragging my carcass up the stairs?”
“Ah--evening services? Are you quite sure that’s a good--”
“She’s family,” said Fran, fixing him with a look that told him, quite clearly, how futile it would be to argue. “Family doesn’t keep secrets, and Juney’s seen stranger than the congregation.”
“Just please don’t climb all the way into the attic?” asked Jonathan, who knew when he was beaten.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Fran assured him. “The mice are using my room this week, since I told them I couldn’t make the climb anymore, and they know how much I like to clap for their singing.” She grabbed Juniper’s hand. “Come on, Juney,” she said, and half-dragged the other woman into the house, leaving Jonathan staring bemusedly after them.
Alexander Healy stepped out onto the porch once the way was clear, patting his son on the shoulder again.
“Look at it this way, son,” he said. “You never need to worry about whether or not she’ll be able to keep up with you.”
“That’s true,” said Jonathan. “The other way around, however, may be a problem.”
Alexander laughed.
The mice were already assembled in Fran’s room when she arrived with Juniper in tow. They greeted the opening of the door with jubilations that might have been quiet from a single rodent, but were overwhelming from a horde.
“Now, hush,” said Fran, smiling. “ Me making it up the stairs isn’t that impressive.” She put a hand on her stomach and winced as the baby delivered a particularly vigorous kick to what she was fairly sure had to be an organ she really needed. “Oof. All right, I take that back. Hello, the congregation. I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine.”
“HAIL!” exulted the mice. “HAIL THE OLD FRIEND OF THE VIOLENT PRIESTESS!”
Juniper finally shook off enough of her shock to take hold of Fran’s elbow and tug repeatedly. “Frannie,” she whispered. “There are mice on your bed.”
“I know,” said Fran. “I said they could come down. I’m mostly moved into Johnny’s room at this point anyways--me having a separate bed is just for show, especially with Junior here almost done baking--and I missed the evening services. So I told the mice to go ahead and use my room.”
“You told the mice to use your room.”
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Fran turned to the mice. “You lot, clear off the desk chair. I think Juney needs to sit down for a minute.”
“No, I’m fine.” Juniper shook her head, a little too vigorously, before squinting at the mice. “You have talking mice in your room. Not just mice. Talking mice.”
“Honey, did you really think I’d leave the circus to go someplace that didn’t have a sideshow?” Fran walked over to the bed, where she dropped herself heavily down onto the mattress. The mice moved out of the way with ease, a furry quilt that reformed itself around her once she was settled. “The mice are what caught my interest. Johnny was almost secondary.”
“Ah.” Juniper stepped gingerly into the room, squinting down at the mice on the floor. “That didn’t last?”
“Lord, no. Not once he pulled the stick out of his butt. Everybody, this is Juniper. She and I grew up together.”
“HAIL JUNIPER!” shouted the mice.
Juniper jumped. “Are they...always this enthusiastic?”
“Pretty much.” Fran turned to the mice nearest her. “What’s on the table tonight?”
“The Celebration of the Union Between the Patient Priestess and the God of Uncommon Sense,” said one of the mice, eliciting cheers from the others.
“Oh, good.” Fran looked toward Juniper, and translated, “They’re celebratin’ Johnny’s parents hooking up. You want to stay and watch?”
“So very badly,” said Juniper.
Fran smiled. “I love religion.”
The humans quieted, and listened as around them, the Aeslin mice began the recitation of another piece of the litany that was their life.
Morning found Fran asleep in her own bed, and the mice back upstairs in their attic home. Jonathan, meanwhile, was pacing in the kitchen, stealing occasional glances up at the ceiling, like he could will the rest of the household to wake.
The knock at the back door startled him enough that he actually jumped, one hand going to his vest. He stopped short of pulling a knife. Instead, he straightened, adjusted his glasses, and moved to let Juniper in. She was holding a brown jug, and smiling, a little warily.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother, but I saw that someone was awake in here, and we could really use some clean water for breakfast...”
“It’s no trouble, really,” he said. “Please, come in. I’ll show you where the well is after we’ve all eaten.”
“Thank you.” Juniper moved quickly past him to the sink. Jonathan noticed that her feet were bare, but decided not to say anything about it. She was, after all, a guest in his...well, field. Guests were permitted their unusual habits. Even the human ones. At least they didn’t hide in closets, or try to eat the silver.
Juniper glanced back at him while she filled her jug. “Frannie still sleeping?”
“Yes, thankfully.”
“She’s never been an early riser. I guess she still gets the crankies when she gets up too early?”
“Like she was a demon summoned from the very depths of Hell,” said Jonathan. He p
aled. “Wait--I didn’t mean--I’m not comparing my fiancé to a demon, truly I’m not.”
“Are you joshing me right now? Because believe me, comparing Fran to a demon would not be out of line, if she still sleeps armed.” Juniper looked back to the faucet as she turned the water off. “You’re a brave fellow to marry a woman with that many knives.”
“Honestly, I would be a foolish, ah, ‘fellow’ to marry any woman who didn’t have that many knives.” Feeling obscurely like he was taking an exam, Jonathan straightened his glasses again, and said, “I believe Fran told you the circumstances of our first meeting?”
“She did,” said Juniper. “She was very clear about how she saved your life before she’d even known you for a full day.”
A small smile creased Jonathan’s lips. “Well, yes. That’s our Fran.”
“It is,” Juniper agreed. “She loves you.”
Jonathan blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. She wouldn’t still be here if she didn’t love you, and you wouldn’t have looked us up if you didn’t love her. We’re not a family in the traditional sense, but the carnival was the first family Fran ever knew. We give you our blessing.”
“I...ah. I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. I...”
“You don’t need to say anything.” Juniper fixed him with a stern eye. “Just love her, all right? Take care of her as much as she lets you, and let her take care of you as much as you can, and love her, for however long the two of you have together. There’s nothing else that we could fairly ask of you, and there’s nothing we want more than we want her happiness. Can you do that? For us?”
“I can do it for her,” said Jonathan.
This time, Juniper smiled. “Right answer,” she said. “Welcome to the family.”
The feeling that this had all been some sort of unplanned-for exam lingered--but now it was tempered by the equally strong feeling that he’d somehow managed to pass. Feeling obscurely pleased with himself, Jonathan opened the pantry door and began the preparations for breakfast.
Married in Green Page 2