The Wild in her Eyes

by Karina Giörtz

  “Babe has a pet tiger,” Maude pointed out dryly, clearly sensing Annis’s troubles as she handed her the bottle. “But Caroline had to give up the chipmunk she raised. You never know which ones will stay and which will fly. There’s no telling ahead of time, so there’s no use worrying about it now.”

  Annis gave Maude a grateful smile, soaking in her words of comfort as she took the bottle from her and carefully offered the pup some milk. After a few missed tries, he started suckling and didn’t stop until the bottle was dry. Exhausted from the work of feeding, he sank back into Annis’s lap and fell asleep all over again. This time, he didn’t shake or whimper.

  “Finian,” she whispered. “I think that’s what I’ll call him.”

  “I like that,” Maude said quietly. Sounds like the name of a warrior.”

  Annis nodded. She’d heard the name in a story a long time ago, but it had stayed with her, as though some part of her heart had always known she’d meet a Finian of her own one day.

  “Shall we?” Mabel asked, an eye cast toward the door. “I can hear the comforts of our cabin calling and I, for one, could really do with a good dusting off. All this straw and sawdust is making me itchy.” She squirmed and shuddered as she spoke, just in case the words alone weren’t convincing enough.

  “Can we bring him?” Annis asked, not yet familiar with the baby critter protocol.

  “Can’t leave him,” Mabel said simply.

  Reaching a hand down to steady her, Maude helped Annis to her feet without having to disrupt sleeping Finian in her arms.

  Mabel stopped at the crate of supplies on the way out. “Best take some of this with us. He’ll be hungry again at least two or three times more before the night is over.”

  A few minutes later, with their arms stretched to capacity with a night’s supply of powdered milk and bottles, the three headed back outside. Annis carried Finian snuggly against her body, balancing him and the supplies in her arms. The usual circus commotion had died down to a comfortable rumble of voices and soft laughter.

  “Seems strange to be staying,” Annis said. She preferred the idea of constant motion. Even if she felt safe where she was, she’d feel even safer if the distance between her future and the threat of her past were growing again.

  “I quite like it,” Mabel admitted, waving at Oscar and Bess in passing. “Every so often it’s nice to end a show and just be done for the night. No worrying about loading up or wondering how long we’ll be on the rails until we reach our next destination. To just be, to just enjoy the moment, can be a lovely part of this adventure too.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Annis said, realizing for the first time that the novelty of circus life could eventually wear thin and that the constant work could become just that: work. It was hard to fathom, given how fulfilled she felt, how much purpose she had found, in only two days of what was really no more than menial tasks.

  “You will,” Maude said in her characteristic direct but grinning way. “But it won’t make you love the nights we move any less,” she promised. Annis believed her. It was easy to.

  “Oh, Lord,” Mabel muttered under her breath, causing Annis’s eyes to follow her gaze and see what had drawn her attention. It was Floyd.

  “We better get him turned around before he wanders off too far,” Maude said, already speeding up and changing course toward where Floyd was on the verge of disappearing in the tree line at the edge of camp.

  Annis hesitated for the briefest of moments before she determined it would be wrong not to do for Floyd what everyone here would undoubtedly do for her—what they had already done for her—and hurried to catch up with Maude and Mabel, who were several feet ahead of her.

  Mabel called out in a sing-song voice, “Floyd! Oh, Floy-yod!” There was no indication he’d heard his name or their rushing footsteps as they closed in on him.

  Overloaded with Finian’s bottles and struggling to not squish the wolf cub as he nestled into her chest, Annis was fueled by her desperation to keep from dropping all she held. “Floyd!” Annis shouted, surprising herself by the volume of her voice.

  It did the trick.

  The old albino man came to a standstill, his white hair shining silver in the moonlight and his near-translucent skin took on an almost magical shimmer. Slowly he turned, with his eyes cast down and catching on nothing in particular, and then resumed his usual shuffle across the dirt toward camp.

  “That’s weird,” Mabel mumbled as all three girls watched him go by.

  “Really?” Annis scrunched up her face as she watched him move aimlessly, and yet something told her he had intentions set in all he did. “Which part?”

  “I think he heard you,” Mabel said, her eyes still following the old man.

  Annis frowned. “You called his name first.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her eyes widening as she turned to face Annis. “But that was for the sake of habit, not with any sort of expectations I’d see results for my efforts.”

  “Only person he’s ever responded to is Babe,” Maude says quietly. “And it was only that first night she found him walking about. She asked him where he was going, and he’d looked at her, said ‘home,’ and then disappeared behind those burning red eyes again as though he’d never been present at all.”

  “It’s sad,” Mabel said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder as they walked, heading for their car now that Floyd was safely within the perimeter of camp again. “He’s always right here, surrounded by all of us, and always alone, too far for anyone to reach him.”

  “Maybe he’s coming back,” Annis said thoughtfully, recalling her previous interaction with him and wondering if she should tell the sisters. Sawyer hadn’t been at all receptive to her claims.

  “It’s a lovely thought,” Maude said, though Annis understood her meaning. It was lovely, but it wasn’t likely.

  When they reached their car, it was far from empty. This put an end to any more of Annis’s contemplations about Floyd, at least for the time being. Familiar faces from their morning visit filled the space. In addition to those, Annis was pleased to see Sequoyah smiling back at her from the rear corner of the now exceptionally cramped space.

  “We were wondering where you girls disappeared to,” Sawyer said. “Hope you don’t mind we didn’t wait for you to show up and invite us in.”

  “Doesn’t seem like the sort of thing we’d mind,” Mabel chirped. “Now clear a spot on the bed so Annis can sit and we can get past her to put up these supplies.”

  “What is all of that?” August asked, craning his neck to see as Annis began placing bottles in a trunk under her bed. “Bottles? Oh, Lord. What sort of orphan did Babe drag home this time?”

  Annis smiled, looking down adoringly at the small bundle in her arms. “A wolf.” She moved her arms so that everyone could see the pup while still keeping him snuggled against her. “His name is Finian. And I don’t know a thing about him beyond that, so all you animal experts speak up, please.” She rounded the room and landed on Sawyer. Something about his affinity for lions made him seem like the most appropriate match for her current predicament.

  “Completely different beast,” he said grinning. “But, I will tell you this. There’s nothing quite like being loved by a creature that would just as soon kill you as look at you.”

  “A comforting bit of insight, thanks,” she mumbled, slipping gently back onto the mattress of her makeshift bed. Sequoyah came to sit beside her.

  “May I?” he asked, fingers stretched out toward the pup, waiting for permission. She granted it with a nod. “You’ll do just fine with him,” he said so only she could hear. The others had already moved on in their conversations, ranging from the chipmunk Caroline had raised to the possibility of taking a trip into town the following morning. The latter idea seemed to conjure up a great deal of excitement. But all Annis could think of was Finian, snuggled in her lap.

  “You always think the best of me,” she said to Sequoyah after a lo
ng, contemplative pause. “I’m not sure you’re always right, though.”

  He smirked. “Haven’t been wrong yet.”

  “You’ve known me for all of two days, you fool.” She laughed. “You may yet turn out to be wrong about something you simply have yet to see the results of.”

  He shook his head, still convinced of his belief that she could always reach the hopes he had for her. “It’s not in my nature to be wrong. I say what I see, and I see what I believe.”

  “Don’t you mean you believe what you see?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t.” And he left it at that, with no more explanations or discussions. The last of his enigma of a statement rang in her ears and melted into her mind, where it tumbled around with the rest of her thoughts, on hold until she had a moment of quiet to sort through them all.

  That moment, however, was hours out of reach as voices grew louder and tales became more animated until everyone, including Annis and Sequoyah, was in stitches, tears of laughter rolling down their cheeks while little Finian slept peacefully. People came and went, drawn to their carriage by all the raucous noise, though the original group seemed to remain intact despite the comings and goings. Mabel was right. It was nice to stay put for a night and not worry about anything other than enjoying each other’s company.

  Before long, Finian was awake again, shoving his nose around her stomach in search of his next meal. Determined to learn quickly, Annis insisted on making his bottle on her own.

  “I can do it,” she announced, reaching under the bed to retrieve the small trunk that held Finian’s bottles. “Or,” she amended with a little less confidence as she opened the lid and glanced inside, “at least I can figure it out.”

  Maude—who’d been ready to jump out of her seat to help, which would have resulted in dragging with her a surprised Mabel who was deep in conversation with August—leaned back, one curious eyebrow raised at Annis and her lips cinched at the corner of her mouth. “Alright then, let’s see if you’ve been paying attention.”

  It turned out to be harder than Annis had anticipated, starting with juggling Finian in one hand while trying to take the rubber nipple off the bottle with the other.

  “Sure you don’t want any help?” Maude asked, a smug look on her face as she watched Annis continue to struggle.

  Annis sighed, accepting imminent surrender. “It would still count as doing it myself if I let you hold Fin, right?”

  Maude shrugged. “We can still count it.”

  Annis reached out and placed Finian gently in Maude’s lap, which incidentally also drew Mabel’s attention. “Oh, look who we have here,” she cooed, picking him up and holding him to her chest. “I just adore how he smells, don’t you?” she asked her sister, who crinkled her nose and snorted in response.

  Tempted though Annis was to watch what would likely prove to be an entertaining exchange between the twins regarding Finian’s scent, or odor, as Maude would likely put it, she forced her focus back to the bottle. Two hands were definitely more favorable than one. This time around, the top came off in seconds.

  Next, she drew the bag of powdered milk from the trunk and proceeded to pour it into the bottle almost just as she’d seen Maude do it before. In Annis’s case, the powder wasn’t so much going inside the bottle as around the outside of it. It took her several attempts and multiple adjustments to the bag and the angle at which she held it, but eventually, she got enough inside. Or, rather, more than enough, leading her to have to pour some back into the bag, which resulted in having too little in the bottle. This game went on for a solid three rounds before Annis finally managed to get the exact right amount into the bottle.

  From there, things became easier as she topped off the bottle with water from the pitcher the twins kept on their dresser for washing at night. And then she went to give it a good shake, only to find she hadn’t secured the rubber nipple as well as she’d thought, leading her to spray milk around their entire compartment and everyone inside it.

  After a good laugh, and a few tears by Annis, Caroline and Sawyer cleaned up the mess while Annis made her final attempt at preparing the bottle.

  In the end, her stubbornness won out and, after another near spill and multiple outbursts her mother would have deemed highly unladylike, the job was done. Finian happily nursed his bottle again. Everyone fell silent watching him, fascinated by the simple act of feeding a puppy. Annis had to admit that there was something soothing about the contented way he grunted and how he stretched out his hind legs as he started to drift off near the end of his feeding. He was so small and so helpless, and yet so unaware of either vulnerability as he rested there, curled up against her stomach again, trusting her to care for him and keep him safe. Annis felt like he did once. And until this evening, she’d been certain she’d never allow herself to be lulled into such a false sense of security again. Now, seeing Finian, knowing she would move heaven and earth to protect him, she felt a renewed sense of hope. She considered the possibility that trust was not to be abandoned entirely. Maybe these feelings she was having about him, others were just as capable of, even if those she’d expected it most from in her previous life had not been. It was possible, she though, that she simply hadn’t been worthy enough to evoke such feelings of love and protection in them.

  “I think Finian here may have the right idea about things,” Sawyer said with a loud yawn.

  “I hope you’re not thinking about curling up in someone’s lap for a nap,” Maude said flatly.

  “I take it you’re not offering?” Sawyer responded, matching her tone.

  “I am,” Homer volunteered loudly. “Come on, then, plenty of room here,” he said, patting his thighs with his hands. People laughed, though it was noticeably with less enthusiasm than they’d shown earlier in the night. Everyone was getting sleepy.

  “Thanks, brother. But I think I’ll pass.” Sawyer scooted to the edge of the nightstand he’d been sitting on and prepared to jump off. “But only because Caroline is staring daggers at me, threatening me not to.”

  Homer laughed, clasping his wife’s hand, who chuckled softly and never denied the accusation, making it all the more believable and entertaining. With the quiet hum of dying chuckles still in the air, they made their descent from the bed they’d been sitting on. “Well, if no one’s going to be sleeping in my lap, I think I’ll go ahead and take it back to my own bed, then.”

  “I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Caroline said, leading the way for the both of them as they moved through the small aisle toward the back door, which Annis had learned led to their adjoining car. “Annis, I believe we’ll see you first thing in the morning?”

  “Hugh’s orders,” Annis said brightly. She was excited to spend the day with them and, frankly, still a bit on edge about Hugh’s sudden change of heart.

  “He must really trust you,” Homer mused as they walked out.

  “He certainly doesn’t trust us,” Caroline added with a loud laugh, pulling the door shut behind them.

  Chapter Ten

  THE MAKINGS OF A FAIRY TALE

  The rest of the night passed in a peaceful quiet for Annis, only interrupted by Finian’s feedings and the occasional chat with Mabel, who always appeared awake no matter the time. Come morning, Annis felt exhausted and yet completely satisfied about having successfully kept the wolf pup alive through the night.

  Even without the usual work of setting up, there was plenty to be done as soon as they stepped outside. Animals needed tending to. Structures needed to be secured where wind and weather had undone the previous day’s work. And, of course, there was the task of tending to the basic needs of everyone who lived and breathed the Brooks and Bennet circus.

  With Finian left to carry on with his sleep in a sling of burlap handcrafted by Mabel and now tied to Annis’s chest, the three girls went about the morning’s chores. First, they stopped in to care for Millie and Edi before Mabel and Maude saw to it that Annis found her way to Homer and Caroline.
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br />   “Since we don’t have animals in our charge, we’ve got most of our work done already,” Caroline explained while Annis followed her through the campsite. “It’s simple stuff, really. Polishing the silver, knives, and daggers and such, soaking all the flammables in kerosene, and, of course, checking all the props and equipment to make sure nothing was damaged or strained in the previous show. We may seem crazy, but we put a lot of effort into being safe,” she assured Annis, sounding more somber than Annis had heard before.

  “What’s left to do? What can I help with?” Annis offered, eager to seem useful rather than a burden Hugh had landed them with.

  “Some of the costumes need mending. I was going to do that next. Are you any good with a needle and thread?”

  She was. Sewing and needlepoint had been deemed ladylike and therefore approved and fully encouraged by Annis’s mother. “I can stitch up just about anything,” she said. “And I’m neat too. Tight and even stitches were always important to my mother,” Annis said without thinking. Mother. She hadn’t heard herself say that word since the night she left. The night she’d screamed it at the top of her lungs. Her jaw clenched and her body tensed at the memory.

  If Caroline noticed the change in Annis, she didn’t show it. “My mother never bothered with tight or even anything,” she laughed derisively. “But then I don’t suppose that would have aligned much with her life.”

  Grateful for the distraction, Annis pursued talking about Caroline’s mother rather than thinking of her own. “What sort of life?”

  “No one’s told you?” she asked, looking half-surprised, half-pleased. “I was born and raised in a brothel. That’s my story.”

  “Oh.” Annis had not anticipated that particular turn in the conversation, but she was getting used to the unexpected around here. “So, you...Your mother...” she stopped, at a loss for words. There simply was no polite way to ask what she wanted to know.