The Wild in her Eyes

by Karina Giörtz

  “I’m not really sure, to be honest,” Annis admitted. “Truth is, I’m sort of on a day-to-day track at the moment.”

  Bess’s big brown eyes widened even more. “You’re wanted by the law!”

  “What?” Annis laughed in surprise. “No, silly. I’m the most pathetically innocent person you would ever hope to meet. I’ve never even taken an extra candy from my grandmother’s candy dish. I’m so good at being good and horribly bad at being bad. The law would have no use for me.” Provided the law was honest, Annis added to herself.

  Bess twisted her mouth up thoughtfully. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

  Then it dawned on Annis. “You’re trying to figure out my story!”

  “I am,” Bess admitted with no signs of regret or sheepishness. Her eager face was bursting with curiosity. “Are you going to tell me? You could, you know. I’m a vault. The only one around, incidentally. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s not a secret keeper in the whole lot around here. Well, minus Babe, of course, but she’s in a secret keeping league all her own.”

  She had noticed. “No need for secrets when you have trust, right?”

  Bess’s eyes narrowed as she leaned back against the window. “Ah, I see what you did there.” She nodded, grinning. “That’s alright. You’ll get there. Trust is a hot commodity out there in the big, scary world. Here, in the circus, we have it in abounding quantities. Won’t be long, and we’ll all be up to our necks in Annis tales, right along with everyone else’s.” She winked, as if to let Annis know she’d be proving her point sooner than Annis might expect.

  Part of her hoped Bess was right. However, before she could contemplate the matter any further, the train began to slow. Then, squealing loudly on the tracks, it came to a stop.

  Bess clapped her hands. “Girls, let’s get to work.”

  Della and the sisters were already on their feet and headed for the door. With Viola leading the way and Annis bringing in the caboose, the fivesome made their way outside and straight for Momma T’s or, rather, where Momma T’s would shortly be.

  They were soon met by August and Oscar, followed closely by Goldilocks, Francis, and Will. They all worked side by side to set up the food tent. In under an hour’s time, it began to take proper shape. The longer they worked, the more people showed up to help. Before long, the tantalizing scents of Momma T’s breakfast filled the air.

  Seated with five women and not a single male within earshot of the table for a change, Annis found that the breakfast conversation had a different dynamic than what she’d already grown accustomed to with her usual crew.

  “You’re looking pale, Della. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Viola asked the young trapeze artist. Annis guessed Della was probably in her late twenties, like Bess, with heavily freckled skin, bright green eyes, and auburn hair that shone a violent shade of red in the sunlight.

  “Haven’t been sleeping well,” Della answered, approaching her breakfast with a great deal more etiquette than Annis had seen from anyone in a while. Della, she suspected, had come from a life much like her own. The tell-tale signs were there. She placed her napkin in her lap and never slouched or rested an arm on the table. She allowed herself only dainty bites of food and chewed delicately, with her mouth pursed shut and her jaws barely moving as her teeth milled the food back and forth. Her pinky finger lifted every time she had a sip of her tea. “I’m sure I just need a good night’s rest and I’ll be back in top form,” she finished, carefully cutting her slice of ham into tiny pieces.

  “Leo?” Bess jumped in on the topic. Leo was Della’s trapeze partner. Annis had only met him the one time and knew little about him except that he was close in age to Della, he was handsome, with his olive complexion and jet-black hair, he was tall with a muscular build, and he was skilled in flying through the air and catching himself on a variety of hoops and swings and ropes along the way.

  “Why do you always assume everything has to do with him?” Della grumbled, gently stabbing her ham with the prongs of her fork and lifting it to her mouth.

  Bess shrugged. “Because it always does.”

  “It’s true,” Etta agreed. “Even that time you were on and on about whether or not you wanted to cut your hair, it was really just about Leo making that comment about hating short hair and you wanting to tick him off.”

  “Are you together, then?” Annis asked. She’d sort of suspected it, given their joint act and all.

  Della snorted in disgust. “Absolutely not.”

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Lila said, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “She’s mad about him, just can’t admit it.”

  “And I won’t. The man is a complete arse. Most days I think long and hard whether I’d rather fall to my death or let him catch me,” Della said with a huff.

  “She’s just upset because the ring is the only place he will catch her,” Bess teased.

  “Oh.” Annis thought she was beginning to understand what the real problem was.

  “Two stubborn, pigheaded fools in love,” Viola sighed dramatically.

  “Which is precisely why we stay apart,” Della ended the discussion and so ended the topic of Leo for good—or, at the very least, for breakfast. Annis got the distinct sense it was a constant topic of conversation around these parts.

  After the Leo discussion, another about August followed. No one particular woman was tied to him, but they did all seem to share a common admiration for him. By the time they finished gushing over the strongest man alive, they caught sight of Will and Goldilocks clearing their plates and heading out of the tent, presumably to return to work. The discussion of the importance of boys having good hair promptly ensued.

  By the time Annis and Bess were making their way toward the tent site, Annis felt as though her head was spinning, caught in a whirlwind of every man’s face she’d seen over breakfast.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Bess noticed. “Why are you so quiet?”

  “I’m a bit dizzy,” Annis admitted truthfully. “I don’t think I’d realized how many men were here until you pointed every single one of them out over breakfast.”

  Bess shrugged, laughing. “The more the better, right?”

  “I suppose.” Annis wasn’t sure she had an opinion about it. Was there really an increase in benefits when there were more of the male gender? she wondered. Especially when they already outnumbered the female population in camp. Bess and her friends certainly seemed to be pleased with the ratio, even if none of them appeared to be taking advantage of it. “There’s something I don’t understand, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You all spent every second of breakfast discussing how lovely all the men are, and yet not a one of you is involved with one. Why is that?” It could hardly be the guys’ lack of interest in them, she thought. She’d seen the way August kept sweeping his gaze over Bess and the way Will continually turned toward Viola, smiling at her every chance he got.

  “You heard Della. Some of us are better off steering clear of each other.” She giggled. “In my case, I’m best off steering clear of all of them, all the time.” She nudged Annis’s side with her elbow as they walked. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate from a distance, though.”

  “I don’t understand. You like them all. But you don’t like any of them well enough?” Annis realized she hadn’t known many women Bess’s age who weren’t yet married. Those who hadn’t managed to find a husband yet were usually desperate to put an end to their search, in part because their families insisted upon it. An unmarried woman of a certain age was an embarrassment, as though she were somehow unfit or damaged, and so deserved to be marked for life with the shame she brought upon herself and those whose name she carried—and would carry until her death, given she had no husband to gift her with his. The more she thought about it, the more horrifying she found it.

  In any event, it seemed now Bess was the one feeling perplexed. “Like them enough for what? Marriage?” She laughed, throwi
ng her head back and slapping her thigh.

  “You don’t want to get married,” Annis concluded.

  “I do not,” Bess confirmed.

  “And, the others...” Annis turned, looking back over her shoulder in the direction they’d just come from. “They feel the same way you do?” This time, Annis was struggling not to sound as though she found the concept absurd. She didn’t, really, in her own thoughts, but those weren’t always easy to hear when they were being crowded out by all the nonsense people had spewed at her all her life.

  “Hard to say,” Bess said, tugging at Annis’s elbow to redirect their path, taking the long way around the campsite to where Bess usually set up in the back to rehearse. “I don’t see Lila ever going down that aisle, though her sisters may, eventually. Della, well, she’s obsessed with Leo and he’s completely crazy about her. But they’re a lot like oil and water. In the end, they just can’t seem to mix. Honestly, I think she likes it that way. It’s safe.”

  “How is it safe? What’s safe about it?” Annis stopped, stumped. “And safe from what?”

  Bess slowed to a stop as well. “Being vulnerable, of course. The temptation to give in, give up your freedom. Risk getting hurt. Risk losing everything, including yourself.” She turned and started walking again. “Falling in love with a man she can’t have keeps Della safe from all of that.”

  Annis stumbled, trying to speed up and reach Bess’s side again. “But...But what if it’s good? What if being vulnerable turns out to be worth it? What if you don’t lose anything? What if you have everything to gain?”

  Bess smirked, shifting a sideways glance at her before staring straight ahead again. “Yes, spending time with Caroline and Homer will do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Make you believe in fairy tales.” She hooked her arm into Annis’s and leaned in until their shoulders knocked with every other step. “Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely believe in theirs. I just don’t think we all get the same story. Or even a happily ever after. Some of us just get the villain bits and no prince. Or worse, the prince and the villain turn out to be one and the same.”

  Annis wasn’t willing to give up so easily. “Every story has a hero.”

  Bess nodded. “Yes. And sometimes it turns out to be you. And why not? Why shouldn’t we be the heroes of our own stories? I know that’s the part I always like best.”

  As much as she felt as though agreeing with Bess put her on the losing side, she couldn’t disagree with her either. The hero was the best part. It just hadn’t ever occurred to Annis that she could play it herself. And now, having already been beaten by the villain once, it hardly seemed possible to change the course of her story.

  “Right.” Bess cut through Annis’s mental stewing and brought her back to the present. “We’ve got work to do and no pretty boys around to do it for us. Come on,” she said, pointing at a square wooden box nearly filled to the rim with what Annis assumed were the tools they needed for the job ahead, “you grab that crate there and follow me.”

  Annis did as she was told and, before long, they were setting up the tightrope. It was a smaller version compared to the one in the ring, of course. The grand one, reserved for the show, would be built inside the tent once it was upright. For now, Annis couldn’t help but feel a great deal of pride as she stood back and took in all that they’d accomplished all on their own.

  “What now?” Annis asked, looking around for more work to do.

  “Now we go help the boys.” No sooner had she said it, Bess was marching onward with a stretch of rope wrapped over her shoulder and several tools in each hand.

  Annis glanced down at her own hands. She was still holding a hammer in one, so she reached for the bucket of nails with the other and then hurried after Bess.

  It felt good, the work they were doing. It was exciting in a new way, as though Annis were discovering her body in a new light and getting reacquainted with it. She was strong. She’d always thought she was, but only strong for a girl, not in comparison to the men she worked alongside here. And, granted, she was nowhere near as well suited for the heavy lifting as, say, August and Francis, who were working only a few feet over from her, but she still managed to hold her own and not require any help to complete her tasks.

  It was empowering. It was liberating. Bess’s words about freedom began to make sense to her.

  “Hold this, would you?” August said suddenly, handing her a stack of boards without looking in her direction. They were so heavy that she nearly fell backward, but she caught herself just in time. “Lord, Annis!” he shouted, realizing his mistake. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were Francis. I swear he was just behind me a minute ago.” He began to take back the load, but Annis gripped it tighter.

  “Quite alright. I’ve got it.” She nodded toward the board he’d started nailing into the post in an effort to fix the tiered benches meant for the audience that night. Some of the boards had been cracking and bowing so badly, it was just a matter of time before someone fell through.

  “You sure?” He seemed to have his doubts.

  “Yes.” She nodded vigorously. “Very sure.” Then, on second thought, she added, “but only if you hurry up already.”

  August was clearly torn between believing her and determining if she was simply being stubborn. Either way, he appeared to accept that the outcome wouldn’t change, and so he hurried on with his task, efficiently shooting the nails into the boards with swift swings of his hammer until, one by one, her load was lightened as each board was put to new use.

  “Thank you,” Annis said with a sigh when the job was done.

  “What are you thanking me for?” he asked, chuckling. “You’re the one who was helping me.”

  “True,” Annis agreed. “But you were helping me too. I never would have volunteered to hold those boards because I never had any idea I could. Now, thanks to you, I do.” She wiped her hands on her pants, dusting off the sawdust and dirt. “Feel free to throw a stack of wood at me anytime, August.” Then she walked away, grinning to herself and feeling filled with the satisfaction of having done the impossible—and having done it by choice. Perhaps there was still time for her to become the hero, after all.

  Come lunchtime, she and Bess were sharing a table with Della and Leo, and were soon joined by the twins, and then Sawyer and Sequoyah shortly after.

  “Is it just me or are you hungrier than usual?” Mabel asked, staring at Annis while she took bite after bite, barely taking time to breathe. Mabel wasn’t wrong. Annis was ravenous from the physical labor she’d done. She also felt free to finally eat a proper meal without her mother’s nagging voice reminding her to be ladylike, “Because no man wants to marry a woman who has potential to grow into a hog down the road.”

  “Bess does all her own lifting of heavy things,” Annis mumbled, mouth full. “So I did a lot of lifting of heavy things. And now my stomach is a really empty thing.”

  “Won’t be for long,” Mabel pointed out with a raised brow as she slowly began to eat her own lunch.

  “I don’t recall you ever being fond of anyone telling you to eat less,” Maude said to her sister.

  “That’s because I’m not. And I haven’t any desire to limit her intake. I’m simply wondering if perhaps it might behoove her to slow it down,” Mabel explained.

  The bickering between them carried on like a soothing hum in the background. It was becoming a familiar sound to Annis, and one she realized she looked forward to hearing.

  “You two really are lovely,” she said, grinning broadly across the table at the two sisters, who were both stunned into silence by her statement.

  Meanwhile, Sequoyah was trying hard to contain his chuckling and Sawyer, ever the troublemaker, didn’t hesitate to jump right in. “Did one of those heavy things Bess was lifting drop on your head?” he asked, shaking his own. “I mean, it’s the only plausible reason I can conjure up why you might make such poor and inaccurate use of the word ‘lovely’.”

&nbs
p; “It wasn’t inaccurate,” Annis corrected. “Wasn’t using it on you, was I?”

  Bess laughed. “Come on then, Smalls. What are you going to say to that?”

  “Don’t egg him on,” Sequoyah warned. “He’ll never stop.”

  Bess shrugged. “Won’t keep me from leaving when I grow bored with him.”

  “Yes, that is your usual mode of operation, isn’t it?” Sawyer said, redirecting his verbal target practice at her. Much as Annis had expected, the attempted stab at Bess never struck. It rolled off into the sound of her echoing laughter. Bess really couldn’t fall—not physically, and not in any way at all.

  “You must need a nap, Sawyer,” Maude said dryly. “Your wit is barely alive today.”

  He huffed but surrendered all further arguments to his plate of food, which had hardly been touched so far.

  “You two coming to help in the ring after lunch?” Sequoyah asked, a hopeful note in his tone.

  “Is the tent ready?” Bess asked before Annis could answer.

  Sequoyah nodded. “Got the last of it done just before we came this way.” He reached for his glass of water and took a long drink. “One of the flags is down, though. Poppy’s trying to mend it now. Could probably use your help getting it back up when he’s done.”

  Bess slid her empty plate to the side and propped her elbows up on the table, placing her fingers together in the center as though she were contemplating the best possible way to do this. “The center flag? The one that’s been leaning for weeks?”

  “That’s the one,” he confirmed.

  “Yeah, I can get up there. Should be easy enough with the center pole right there.” She turned to Annis. “Want to make the climb with me?” Her eyes lit up with adrenaline already, but Annis couldn’t conjure nearly as much excitement at the thought of scaling a massive wooden pole to the highest point in the tent, and then somehow getting beyond that and reattach a fallen flag. Liberated or not by her own physical strength, she was certain she lacked the balance and grace to pull it off without falling to her death halfway to the top.