The Wild in her Eyes

by Karina Giörtz

  “Oh, good.” He thrust the dagger even higher. “Won’t mind if I light it up then, get a little warmed up before I walk out?”

  “Personally, no,” Annis played along. “But Viola and her sisters are coming this way as we speak, and I have to tell you, their gowns are covered in feathers and look entirely too flammable to be anywhere near you and your warm-ups.”

  He caught the blade and tucked it carefully into the holster he wore on his belt. “Fair enough. No flames just yet.”

  Annis watched as all three women scurried past, all looking magnificent in their gowns adorned with beautiful feathers and dyed to match their individual tastes. Viola donned a vibrant fuchsia, Etta a brilliant yellow, and Lila a pristine shade of sky blue. All three briefly greeted Homer and Annis before they slipped through the curtain, taking center stage as their voices rang through the air.

  Homer leaned in close until his shoulder tapped hers. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

  “What?” Annis was only half listening. She was too busy trying to watch what little she could through the crack in the curtain without being seen.

  “Just close them,” he insisted. “Trust me.”

  Annis felt herself tighten up. It was a reminder that she didn’t, and would never again, trust anyone. The idea began to run on repeat inside her mind as it had for those days she’d been alone in the woods. Then Homer’s hand reached down, fumbling for hers until he found it. He gave it a gentle squeeze, urging her to listen to him. Slowly, the voice in her mind faded. The words stopped and the intention, the vow she’d made to herself to never believe in anyone again, to never trust, became obsolete. Because she did trust Homer. How could anyone not trust him when the woman who loved him most in the world trusted him with her life night after night? And when he, who loved her more deeply than Annis had ever seen anyone be loved before, trusted himself with it, as well? Homer was to be trusted. Annis finally did as he’d requested and closed her eyes.

  As soon as she did, she felt herself fill up with the sounds of the sisters singing. Their songs were beautiful, more beautiful even than she’d remembered. The music overwhelmed her as she took it in, undiluted and unencumbered by any visual stimulus. Her body began to melt into itself, releasing every bit of tension until the last of it escaped in an audible sigh. The emotion of every note rang crystal clear through the air and landed on her heart, where she soaked it in and reveled in the bliss of bathing her spirit in such sweet music.

  “Welcome to my world,” Homer muttered softly, giving her hand one last squeeze before he released it. Annis held her eyes shut through the rest of the acts, allowing her to experience Babe’s harp and Oscar’s humor in new and deeper ways.

  “Your world is lovely,” she breathed, hearing the swish of Mabel and Maude’s gowns as they passed by, followed by the rhythmic thud of footsteps she knew belonged to her two favorite gentle giants, Edi and Millie.

  “Introducing Annis to the magic of sound?” Caroline’s voice rang in Annis’s ears and her lids flew open.

  “It is my specialty,” Homer said, bowing slightly.

  “One of many,” Caroline murmured, leaning in to kiss his cheek. When she pulled back from him, her eyes met Annis’s. “Wait until you meet with scent. That one’s my favorite,” she said with a wink before she sauntered off, calling back, “We’re up next, darling.”

  Annis watched as Caroline flitted about, making final checks on all of their equipment. Only when she was absolutely certain all was as it should be did Annis see Caroline begin to relax, filling what she had left of her time with stretching her body for the upcoming twisting and bending she had in store for it. She flipped forward and backward as the red sequins on her corset danced wildly under the lights. The flashes created a stark contrast with her long ivory legs, which drew the eye as easily as the sparkles did.

  “It doesn’t bother you,” Annis mumbled, half to herself and half in hopes of an answer, “the costumes she wears, knowing what everyone else can see...And you can’t?”

  She felt Homer shift his weight back and forth between his feet, but she didn’t dare look at him, worried she would see him uncomfortable, embarrassed by her stupid questions. Always she had them, and always they seemed to spill out.

  “I can see plenty,” Homer answered at last. Even in the subtle rumbles of his deep voice, she could tell he was smiling. “And see it better than anyone else. You forget I see through touch. All that skin the rest of the world gets to take in with their eyes? I get to feel it with my hands. Her warmth. Her softness. Who cares what parts of her their gaze sweeps over when it’s me who gets to hold her, and truly see her for who she is?”

  Annis bumped him with her side. “I think maybe you really could give Hugh a run for his money someday, Homer.”

  “It’s my grand plan.” He lifted his finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “I would never,” she promised through her laughter. It was short-lived, however. Homer and Caroline were up. Flying, flaming daggers being thrown through human hoops were no laughing matter.

  Even after spending the day with them, learning the ins and outs of the act and watching them rehearse, Annis still found their performance captivating. It was as though the audience contributed a final piece of the act, launching the energy to new heights and pushing Homer and Caroline to give more than even they knew they were capable of.

  “Never gets old, does it?” a familiar, deep voice said beside her.

  She turned to face Sequoyah and smiled before she even saw him. “You tell me. It’s only my third show.”

  “It’s well past my third, and I still find them completely fascinating.” He stepped in closer until his arm was brushing hers. She wondered if it was due to the cramped space or just a desire to be near her. She hoped it was the latter.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you since breakfast,” she said, attempting to sound as though this had only just occurred to her. The truth was, she’d been looking for him all day and growing increasingly anxious every time she realized how long it had been since their paths had crossed.

  “With everyone out and about, there was plenty to do here.” He must have heard how put out she sounded because he continued in a much milder tone. “Also, I didn’t much want to be seen.”

  “Because of me.” Guilt rushed from the pit of her stomach straight to her face, turning her cheeks a hot red. “I’m really sorry I pried. I shouldn’t have done that. Please forgive me.”

  He shook his head, a sheepish smile slowly surfacing. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Annis. I’m the one who blew everything out of proportion.”

  She disagreed. “You have every right to want to maintain some privacy. Your past is your past. I shouldn’t have insisted on dragging it into the present, on somehow having a part of it.”

  “But that’s the thing,” he turned toward her, timidly reaching for her hand and tenderly lacing his fingers between hers. “I want you to have a part of it. Because, someday, I’ll want you to be a part of everything. And how can I expect you to truly commit to my future if you haven’t known my past?”

  She swallowed hard, forcing down a new wave of guilt. “I don’t see why one has to be tied to the other. Who we were before, whatever happened to us, none of it has to be a part of who we become or part of the life we have moving forward.”

  He looked taken aback. “You don’t really believe that.”

  She nodded. “I do. You don’t need to share things with me, the painful things you’d rather forget, the things you don’t want to talk about, whatever the reason. I don’t need to know.”

  “I do,” he said with a finality she hadn’t expected. “I do need to know. Not today. Not tomorrow. But someday, Annis, I’ll need to know. And I’ll need you to know, as well. It’s the only way this thing between us will ever be real. The only way we’ll truly be together, sharing the good and the bad of life. No matter how bad the bad is.”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t
. All she could do was turn her gaze back out to the ring where Caroline was balancing her body in a one-handed handstand on a square wooden block barely larger than her hand. The block was perched atop a metal rod that stood several feet tall. Her lower body curled over like a scorpion, with her toes reaching down to touch the back of her head. Meanwhile, Homer stood to one side of her, throwing daggers straight through the space she’d created by hollowing her back and bending her legs around toward her head. Each knife he threw zipped through the hoop of her body with a loud swish before it landed with a cutting thud into a hand-painted wooden target. The scene was enough to take anyone’s breath away.

  “Annis.” She heard Sequoyah say her name, but she still couldn’t bring herself to answer his last request. He wanted to know. Everything. She understood, of course, why it mattered to him. It had, after all, mattered to her only a few short hours ago. She’d been desperate to know what had hurt him, even if she’d known she couldn’t take that hurt away. She’d needed to know, just the same. She hadn’t even considered why, until he’d spelled it out for her. Until she’d seen, just now, the potential outcome of what he was asking. Caroline and Homer had no secrets, no unshared parts between them, and it showed in everything they did, in every interaction they shared. It was the most beautiful intimacy Annis had ever seen.

  At last she turned toward him. “I’ll get there,” she whispered. “I promise, I’ll get there.”

  He nodded, the gentle curve of his mouth and endless pouring of warmth from his eyes flowing down upon her, telling her all she needed to know. It was enough for him, for now. Because he was gracious beyond reason, it was enough.

  The end of Caroline and Homer’s act marked the end of Annis’s time peeking from behind the curtain. As soon as they swept through, followed by boundless waves of applause, Annis fell into step behind them, lightening their load of props as they hurried to clear the way for the next act.

  They were barely outside the tent when Goldilocks strolled over and handed Annis the bundle in his hands. “I believe this is yours,” he said. “Was in the elephant cart getting things ready for the girls to come back when I heard him moving about. Figured it must be close to feeding time again.”

  Annis smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks, Jacob.” She slipped back the linens that swaddled Finian and gasped. “His eyes are open!”

  “Your little babe is growing up,” Caroline joked, leaning in to see for herself. “Won’t be long now and he’ll be adding his own flare to the constant chaos and commotion around here.”

  “Won’t that be fun?” Homer chided.

  “I don’t think I’d considered the getting more active phase,” Annis admitted, tucking her cheek to cuddle the pup who stretched up to meet her with the top of his head.

  Caroline laughed. “Thought he’d stay sweet, cuddly, and contained forever?”

  “I can’t deny I was perfectly content not thinking beyond the little bundle he showed up as.” In any event, Annis thought, those days would soon be over. Now would be as good a time as any to consider the long-term consequences of having a wolf pup. She would have a full-grown wolf. On second thought, maybe she was better off just taking things one day at a time.

  In quiet comfort, the threesome made their way back to Caroline and Homer’s wagon. Packing up was fast and efficient. They had nearly everything loaded by curtain call, which the pair had to return to the ring for. Annis stayed behind to fuss over Fin, who already seemed to be moving around more, taking in his surroundings with curiosity, and spending a great deal of time studying her. She had a feeling as though he were etching every detail of her face into his mind’s eye so he would know her forever.

  Standing outside with the cub, enjoying the night sky and the golden glow of the moon, Annis listened for the roar of the crowds from the tent. It wouldn’t be long before people dispersed and the work of breaking down would begin. The circus would disappear again, until the next time they came through town.

  It was hard for Annis to process. The days seemed to last forever, but then they’d finish in a flash. There were moments when she felt as though she’d spent a lifetime here already, and others when the reality of her past life still crept closely at her heels.

  The sound of voices drew Annis attention and she took several steps back, retreating into the shadows of the tent. The police officers she’d seen before the show were still walking around camp, stopping to question the stragglers.

  “You there,” one of the officers called out and Annis followed his pointed finger to Momma T, who was carrying her empty dish tub back to the train. “Where can we find tiny man? And don’t tell me he’s not here. It’s only when you lot come to town that the freaks start running about.”

  Momma T stopped. Her expression hardly impressed upon them a desire to help, but she opened her mouth to answer just the same. “Tiny man. Clever.” Her head tilted back as she jutted her chin forward toward the tent behind the officers. “Only one of those we got was in the show.”

  The officer shook his head. “No, I mean, really small. Couldn’t be any taller than my niece and she’s still in diapers.”

  Momma smirked and shook her head. “Then you may have your own freaks in town after all. All of ours are accounted for from the moment the show starts until it ends. If you didn’t see him in there, he’s not one of ours.”

  Annis didn’t know whether to laugh or feel offended on Sawyer’s behalf. Of course they’d seen Sawyer. He’d taken center stage for his act, just the same as every other night. He only seemed larger than life when he was defying death by sticking his head between the jaws of a massive lion.

  “This is a waste of time,” the officer huffed, turning away and dismissing Momma T without a word of thanks. She started walking again, slower this time, as though she meant to keep an eye on the wandering officers for as long as she could.

  Two more men in uniforms showed up, this time from the opposite end of camp, as though they’d been making the rounds before the show even ended. Annis drew a silent gasp when she spotted Floyd walking just behind them. It was hard to tell if they were aware of him or not, and harder still to determine if he was aware of them. Not wanting to give up the safety of darkness, Annis drew forward as far as the shadows allowed and squinted, trying her best to make out the situation among the strange threesome coming her way.

  Then, before they were close enough for Annis to make out what they were saying, one of the officers turned around. She watched as he spoke to Floyd. A moment later, they parted ways, the officers joining the rest of their party and heading for the camp’s exit. Floyd still fumbled about, aimlessly.

  Or so she thought.

  Within seconds, his shuffling footsteps had led him within in feet of her hiding place.

  “Murdered her,” he muttered under his breath, eyes blank and cast toward the starlit sky. “Do it again.”

  Annis felt her body go frigid. She was unable to move, unable to think. She stood there, keeping still in the cover of darkness, as he approached. When they were both in the shadows together, his eyes lowered to meet hers. “There you are,” he whispered. Then, as quickly as he had surfaced, his eyes glazed and his words turned inaudible. He began shuffling his feet again, moving past her and back into what remained of the camp.

  Panic swelled in her chest, hindering her breath. Crazy or not, Floyd was awake in there. And he knew things, things he couldn’t possibly know. Unless someone had told him. But who? Even the police officers hadn’t been there for her. They’d been after Smalls.

  Except one had stopped to talk to Floyd, and then Floyd had come to her.

  Murdered her.

  The words stilled her racing mind, making it impossible to think or to act.

  She wanted to run for help. She wanted to tell someone what she’d seen and heard, but her stilled mind also stalled her instincts. Her frozen state was an act of self-preservation, she realized. It kept her from doing anything rash she wouldn’t be able to undo.


  Murdered her.

  The words played inside her mind over and over. Words she knew she could never tell anyone. Not when the words that had followed were, “do it again.”

  How long she stood there, feeling made of lead and stone, she couldn’t say. It wasn’t until life spilled from the tent that life came back to her as well, reminding her that even after what she’d witnessed, she’d not yet ceased to exist. More unknown was left for her to discover, more battles for her to fight. Only time would tell who would be on her side when her fate unfolded.

  For now, dwelling on things she could not change served no purpose, and so she welcomed the hustle and bustle sweeping through camp that kept her and everyone else busy until there was nothing but dust and dirt where there once stood an entire circus.

  She was on her way to find Maude and Mabel, ready to settle in for the night and do her best to forget what happened with Floyd, when Hugh tracked her down.

  “There you are, love,” he said, spotting her walking with Bess and August. “Spare a minute?”

  “For you?” She tilted her head. “Is it ever really just a minute, Hugh?”

  He chuckled. “Fair point.” He hooked her arm with his and tipped his head down sideways in her direction her. “Let’s walk.”

  And walk they did—right past the cart she’d been aiming for and instead toward the train’s engine.

  “Am I being kicked out?” Annis asked, casting a worried eye at the empty tracks ahead.

  “Depends,” Hugh said, his flat tone giving no indication whether he was serious. “You learn anything today?”

  She snorted. “I could write a book on all the things I learned today. But I’m guessing you’d want to skip the chapters on dress mending and silver polishing.” She bounced her shoulders thoughtfully. “Knife sharpening likely wouldn’t interest you, either, though I suspect you’d begin to find interest in the parts I’d dedicate to being pretty in a way that isn’t skin deep and the ways in which we are devalued by being valued only for our most superficial and vanity-based contributions.”