“I’ll be at Dr. Rose’s all day tomorrow getting ready for the Fourth of July party. But you’ll have to leave earlier than I do for the milk route.”
“Can I go, too?” Teddy begged.
“No, Teddy,” Emma said. “There’s no room in the wagon.”
“Phooey! Emma gets to have all the fun!”
“Can…may I stay for lunch if Mrs. Reiner asks me?”
“For heaven’s sake, Emma, you spend half your days at the Reiners’.”
“The Reiners like me,” she said, thinking of the hugs, juicy gossip, and beauty tips she got from Mrs. Reiner, not that she used any of the tips herself.
“Well, don’t make yourself a bother, and you and Nan stay away from the circus grounds. It’s no place for girls.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“May I please be excused now?”
Mother nodded.
Emma picked up her dishes and nearly danced to the sink. She felt giddy with excitement. Her plan was working. Tomorrow she would earn her way into the circus and find Filippo the Flying Wonder—the man who very possibly could be her own father!
Chapter Four
No Turning Back
One important task was left for Emma that evening—retrieving the book with the photograph and the circus poster. The Jack Benny Radio Show came on eight o’clock. She knew her family would be tuned into that. It would be the perfect time to sneak out.
Just before eight o’clock, after she had the laundry neatly folded and set on Mother’s bed, Emma peeked into the parlor. There they all gathered—Mother on the sofa with her mending, Granddad in his chair smoking his stub of a cigar, Clarence and Teddy sprawled on the floor. Even Lucky lay curled up next to Teddy, his head cocked toward the radio as if anticipating Mr. Jack Benny’s jokes.
Should she say something? No, she decided. She wouldn’t be missed.
The kitchen screen door squeaked when Emma opened it. She waited a minute, hoping no one heard, then shot down the walk and across the neighbor’s lawn. There was no time to waste. She had less than thirty minutes.
The streets of Racine were strangely deserted for a summer night. A breeze from the lake cooled her face as she ran. Dogs, protecting their territory, barked at her. A few boys lit firecrackers on the sidewalk in front of their houses. The explosions, like gunshots, startled her and made her run even faster toward Lake Michigan.
Her secret hiding spot was a hollowed-out tree trunk just over a steep bank that led down to the lake. Bushes and tall weeds around the tree provided camoflage. She had found the hollow in the tree trunk a few weeks earlier when she threw a stick for Lucky to catch and it landed at the foot of the tree, almost as if meant to point her to it.
When she reached the bank and scrambled down to the tree, she was startled to see someone or something had trampled the weeds around it and parted the bushes. Had her treasures been found and taken? Her heart started pounding. She couldn’t imagine what horrible fate lay in store for her if the photograph was gone. What would Mother think? Do? And the library book? Where would she find the money to pay for that?
The most awful feeling gnawed in Emma’s stomach. She fell on her knees and dug into the hollow. Her sweaty hands grasped something. The book. It was there. Quickly she flipped opened the pages. The photograph! No one had taken it or the circus poster. Sweet relief welled up inside of Emma. All was well. For now, anyway. But she had to hurry. She had to get back before the Jack Benny Show ended.
Wedging the rolled-up circus poster against her back, between her blouse and undershirt, and clasping the book with the photograph, Emma ran the ten blocks back to her house. At the backdoor, she stopped to catch her breath and to listen. She heard laughter from the parlor. She was safe. At least for a few more minutes.
Emma tip-toed up to Mother’s room across the hall from her own, breathing in the familiar and comforting smell of Granddad’s cigar. She yanked open the bureau drawer and, lifting Mother’s carefully folded underwear, felt for the box. As she started to set the photograph back inside the box with the feathered headband, another thought came to her. Why put the photograph back? It could be proof. She could show it to one of the circus workers. Is this Filippo the Flying Wonder? she’d ask. And if they said “yes,” she’d tell them . . . tell them what? At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, she quickly slipped the photograph back between the pages of the Nancy Drew book.
Clarence stood at the door like a sentry. “Why are you in Aunt Saffy’s bedroom?”
“None of your beeswax,” Emma replied, defiantly.
“You’re up to something, aren’t you, Emma? Something besides trying to get a job at the circus. I can smell it.” The smirk on Clarence’s face made Emma want to slap him.
She pushed by Clarence, holding her nose as she passed. “I smell you! PU! And you better keep your trap shut about the circus, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what? You’ll what, Emma?” he said, tauntingly.
“I’ll think of something!” She stomped across the hall to their bedroom, the one she, Clarence, and Teddy shared.
“Hey, what’s that on your back? Stuck in your shirt?” he asked.
Once inside the bedroom, Emma slammed the door, hard. “Don’t you dare come in! I’m getting undressed.”
That Clarence. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. So far he had kept his word about not telling on her, but with Clarence, you could never be sure.
Lucky whined and pawed at the door. When she opened it, he jumped up on her. “I’m OK,” she said. Satisfied with her answer, he made himself comfortable on her bed.
Emma lifted the circus poster out of her blouse and hid it behind her winter coat in the corner of her closet. Next, she pulled the photograph from between the pages of The Hidden Staircase. “Thanks for taking good care of my secret, Nancy,” she whispered. Emma smiled at the thought of her hero, Nancy, guarding Emma’s photograph. “Now, wish me luck.” Emma tucked the photograph into the front pocket of Clarence’s outgrown bib overalls, the overalls that hung in Emma’s closet waiting for her to slip on at the crack of dawn. She hoped and prayed Mother wouldn’t look for the photograph and find it missing.
“Time for bed, Emma!” Mother called from the bottom of the stairs.
“In a minute!” Emma yelled back.
They did that a lot lately, Mother and her, yelling back and forth from downstairs to upstairs. Tonight, Emma was glad of it. She couldn’t be caught with the poster now, or the photograph.
Outside her window in the twilight, Clarence and Teddy sat on a stump in the backyard shooting at squirrels with their slingshots. They both had a bedtime later than hers. It wasn’t fair, but that’s the way it was with boys. They had all the freedom. At least it gave her some time to herself before they flung their smelly bodies onto the cots in the bedroom they all shared. Still, how she wished she were outside catching fireflies, or doing cartwheels, or swinging on the rope that hung from the big oak tree. It was hard to go to bed on these hot summer nights where twilight lingered well past her bedtime.
Emma gazed across the treetops, now dark silhouettes against the dusky sky, toward the south and Lake Michigan where the circus would be set up before sunrise tomorrow. It couldn’t come soon enough.
As Emma undid her braids and slipped her nightgown over her head, the smell of the freshly laundered gown gave Emma a twinge of guilt for not helping with the laundry and for lying to Mother. Lying wasn’t something Emma did often, unless it was important, and getting a circus ticket would be the most important thing she’d ever have done in her life.
She heard the bedroom door open. “I left some cookies on the kitchen table for you to take to the Reiners,” Mother said. “Don’t forget to take them.”
“That was swell of you,” Emma said. Mother rarely baked sweets for them. Sugar was a luxury, after all. “Emma suspecte
d she must have baked them at Dr. Rose’s.”
“Well, it’s the least I can do. You’re there so much.”
“Mrs. Reiner’s nice.” Emma didn’t mention how much more fun Mrs. Reiner was than Mother, how she acted more like a friend than a mother. But Mother was prettier, which made Emma wonder if she really was her daughter. Nan had told her once that Mr. Reiner had called Mother a “looker who turned the head of every man in Racine.” Emma could never turn any boy’s head, not that she’d even want to. Have a boy stare at her? For what? She was as plain as a girl could be, except for her long eyelashes, and her wild, curly hair that she wore most of the time in braids.
“Be sure to thank her for the roses. And after lunch tomorrow, come straight over to Dr. Rose’s. I’ll need your help.”
Emma felt her stomach tighten. The circus matinee started at two and probably lasted until four. And then Emma had to find and talk to Filippo. Would Clarence tell on her? Would Mother come to the circus looking for her? For now, she would just have to brush those horrifying thoughts aside. She wasn’t about to let anything deter her.
Mother lingered in the doorway, looking at Emma as if she wanted to say something more. She wished Mother would come in and kiss her goodnight like she used to do when Emma was little. Did all mothers stop hugging and kissing when their daughters got to a certain age? No, not Nan’s anyway. Emma wondered about fathers—if they hugged and kissed their daughters, too. She’d never thought about it much before, but now that she was about to meet her father, it was something to consider.
“Mother?”
“Yes?”
“Nothing…I mean, sleep well.”
“You, too. And remember, I don’t want you milling around that circus tomorrow.”
“Yes, Mother.” Emma’s fingers crossed tightly behind her back.
At the first crow of the rooster, Emma dressed without making a sound. Even though Clarence’s old overalls had been laundered, they still held a trace of his unpleasant body odor. Lucky sat on his haunches and cocked his head at her, wondering what they were doing up at this hour. Teddy took a sputtering breath, as if startled by a dream and, on the cot next to him, Clarence snored softly. At least he hadn’t tattled on her—yet. There was barely enough light to make out Granddad’s fedora and Clarence’s old boots that she’d set on the closet floor. She grabbed the hat and boots and started for the stairs. The fear of being caught—and the thrill of escape—see-sawed inside her.
The wooden steps creaked, despite her careful tip-toeing. Lucky followed close behind. Emma felt her way through the dark kitchen, grabbing an apple from a bowl on the counter and the plate of cookies for the Reiners. The last thing she wanted to do was to wake Granddad who slept in the tiny room draped off from the parlor.
“Who’s there?” Granddad asked.
Emma turned around quickly, her heart racing. Granddad was barely visible to her in the dark kitchen.
He flipped on the light.
“My goodness. I thought you were a boy in those overalls and . . . is that my hat?”
“It is Granddad. Your old one. The one you don’t wear anymore. Do you mind?”
He scratched his head of gray hair. “Why would I? It will look a heap better on you than it ever did on me.” He laughed loudly.
Emma looked toward the stairs, expecting to see her mother too. But thankfully, there was no sign of her. Emma had to get out soon, but Granddad kept talking.
“My,” he said,” but you do remind me of your mama at your age. A mind of her own, that girl, always up to something. So, tell me, Emma. What are you up to dressed like a boy?”
Emma swallowed hard and crossed her fingers behind her back. “Going with Nan and Mr. Reiner on his milk route. Remember? I’ve gotta run, Granddad, or I’ll be late.”
“Well, go ahead then, sweetheart. Skadattle!”
Emma breathed a sigh of relief as she escaped through the kitchen door, Lucky at her heels.
Outside, birds chirped noisily from hidden perches. Underfoot, the grass was heavy with dew, and the air smelled fresh and rich, like the whole world was ripe for the picking. Emma tied up her thick, wild curls with a rubber band and tucked them into Granddad’s old brown fedora. As soon as every last curl was hidden, she started racing toward Nan’s house.
In the predawn light, Emma could see Nan on the porch swing, exactly as they’d planned yesterday when Nan swore on the Bible she wouldn’t tell on Emma.
Nan giggled when she saw Emma. “Honestly! You look just like a boy in those overalls and hat!”
“Shhh!” Emma whispered. “Has your father left on his route?”
“Ages ago. And Mother sleeps with a mask and plugs in her ears. A freight train couldn’t wake her. Not until eight o’clock anyway. Beauty sleep, you know.”
“Mother made these for you,” Emma said, handing Nan the plate of cookies.
“Oh, how nice. Sugar cookies, my favorite.”
“You’ll take good care of Lucky?”
“Yum,” Nan said, chomping on a cookie. “Of course, you silly!”
Emma knelt down beside Lucky and took his soft muzzle in her hands. She thought about the first day he’d come around their backdoor, a scraggly looking pup. Forgotten or discarded by someone. It took weeks of begging, of spiffing up that mutt, before she convinced Mother to let her keep him. “You be a good boy, now. I’ll see you after the circus.” Lucky licked Emma’s cheek.
“Aren’t you scared?” Nan asked.
“A little,” Emma admitted, wiping her moist cheek with the back of her hand. “But I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to find the man on the poster, Filippo.”
“You really think he’s your father?”
“I do, Nan. I really do.”
Something like fear or excitement—Emma couldn’t decide which—rippled through her, like the feeling she got from swinging high on the rope over the Root River just before she let go.
Chapter Five
The Circus
Emma ran the five blocks from Nan’s house to the parched field above Lake Michigan where the circus would be set up. Just as she reached Twenty-First Street, the streetlights flickered off and the sun slipped out of the water, throwing color into the sky—red and purple, and pink and gold. While the morning run got her heart pumping, the next sight nearly made it stop. Even brighter than the sunrise, parked on the railroad spur that came out of Case Tractor Works, sat the painted railroad cars of Hackenstack’s Most Spectacular Show on Earth!
She held her breath, amazed at the sight before her—men were unloading red-and-gold-painted circus wagons from the flatcars; elephants were being led onto the circus lot, and the first tent was going up before her very eyes. She walked as close as she dared, just to the edge of the field, just close enough to breathe in the smells of animals and hay and sawdust, close enough to be filled with excited jitters.
At the far end of the field, near the circus wagons and flatcars, a tall man wearing a huge white cowboy hat bossed everyone around. “OK, get your back into it!” he yelled at the workers. No sooner had he said that than the second tent was up and men were leading animals into it—monkeys, parrots, and birds with feathers every color of the rainbow. Emma’s heart beat fast. She was here—closer to the circus than she had ever dreamed possible. That afternoon, if she got good and lucky, she’d be sitting underneath the Big Top, watching the Big Show, waiting to see Filippo the Flying Wonder, the man she thought must be—had to be—her father.
As she walked farther onto the lot, trying to think how she was going to offer her services, the man with the cowboy hat yelled at her. “Hey, you! Rube! Where you think you’re goin’?”
In a flash, she yelled back, “Need help?” Then quickly lowered her voice: “I’ll do anything you want for a ticket to the show.”
The man eyed her up and
down. She didn’t know whether to slouch like a dumb boy or stand taller. “I’m tougher than I look,” she told him, pulling down the rim of Granddad’s fedora. “I’m used to hard work. Can do twenty-five chin-ups.” Twenty-five sounded better than twenty. What could it hurt to add a few more?
“Twenty-five chin-ups, eh? And I suppose you can do handstands and back flips, too.”
“Yes, sir. Want me to show you?”
The man stood quiet for a spell, rubbing his chin. “You ain’t thinking of joining the circus, are you?”
“No, sir. Just want to see the Most Spectacular Show on Earth, that’s all.” Her throat felt hoarse trying to keep her voice low.
“Well, then, see those elephants? See that hose over there? See that bucket? Fill that bucket with water and take it to the first elephant. Then get another bucket of water and take it to the second elephant. Then get another bucket and fill it. Keep filling and carrying till them pachyderms don’t want any more water. Get it?”
“Yes, sir!” Emma said. She wasn’t used to saying “sir,” but figured politeness would pay off.
“And kid, remember, those are wild animals. Respect that. When you’re through, come and see me,” the man said.
Wild animals? Emma stared at the huge elephants all in a row. Of course they were wild animals! Emma tingled all over at the thought of providing water for these giant—what did the man call them?—pachyderms. To think they had come all the way from India or Africa or other faraway lands. And she got to give them water! Her plan was working close to perfect. All she had to do was what the boss said and a ticket to the circus would be hers, easy as pie. Quickly she got the bucket, found the hose, filled the bucket, and carried it to the first elephant. Holy cow, was he enormous! Never in her life had she been so close to such a gigantic animal, its legs as huge as tree trunks. And now, nine of these giants, all in a row, towered above her, rocking back and forth. A canvas strap around one leg, tethered to a chain, kept them from running off.
Before she’d watered the second elephant, the first was ready for more, but he’d have to wait. There were seven more down the line. Back and forth, back and forth those elephants rocked. The motion made her dizzy, the work made her thirsty, and the water flowing from the hose made her want to pee so bad she thought she was going to wet her drawers. The thought occurred to her to go right then and there and spray herself with water and no one would know the difference. No one but her, that was. No, she had to find some place to go. But where? There was no outhouse that she could see, and she was desperate.
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