Joanne Bischof

by The Lady

  “Oh, keep your shirts on,” he muttered under his breath. With a hand pressed to the top board of a low barricade, he hopped over and turned, hands at her waist. To lift her over as well?

  She stepped back.

  As if regretting his actions, he took the ice and pocketed it, then hefted up her box. He held her arm as she climbed the boards that made up the gate. She landed with an “oof” on the other side and he flicked one of the entrance workers a coin.

  Charlie started on and Ella fell in step beside him. Everything was different than the day before. With the sun piercing through clouds, the giant lot was no longer a frosty land of shadows, and although a fresh sprinkling of rain had washed away the thin snow, turning the ground to mud, hordes of people milled about. Two workers shoveled sawdust onto the main walkways and a man on stilts lumbered over the heads of a huddle of giggling children. The air held the earthy smells of distant rain, wet straw, and manure. From somewhere in the distance, exotic birds called to one another.

  “I’m sorry to be in such a hurry,” Charlie said. “But I have to be to the Big Top soon. My act doesn’t start until one, but I need to sort some things out with my boys.”

  “How is Holland doing?”

  “She seems good,” he sighed in relief. “A little better.”

  “That’s wonderful to hear.” Ella smiled up at him and shouldn’t have, for he gripped her elbow and swerved her around a man juggling wooden balls.

  He let go as they walked on.

  “What do you do here?” she asked to cover up her embarrassment.

  Hands in his pockets, he tipped up his freshly-shaved jaw. “I’ll give you two guesses.”

  She eyed him from head to toe, not daring to confess all the ideas she’d drummed up last night. She went with the wildest. “Sword…swallower.”

  At that he laughed. “No, or I’d have been to see you much sooner. One more guess. And I’ll give you a hint since you’re clearly very bad at this.” The amusement in his expression warmed her more than the parting of the clouds.

  She looked at him, then around, then back. Felt her brows pinch. The smile lines around his eyes deepening, he thumbed over his shoulder to where a poster hung from the partition. She moved closer to see that it depicted him in a top hat that was pulled low, expression intense, lions flanking him. Ella’s eyes shot wide as she read, “Ferocious lions under the Big Top. Live and untamed.” She looked at him. “You work with lions?”

  He nodded.

  “Is that safe?”

  He tipped his head to the side, sunlight shining on his olive skin. “Would I be standing here talking to you if it wasn’t?” He motioned for them to walk on.

  Fair. The tents that billowed in the breeze were growing plainer. Ornate wagons looking more like homes than showcases with their glass windows, little curtains, and even a few potted plants. Which meant his own tent and wagon weren’t too far off. Ella was eager to hurry to Holland, but her feet slowed. “They’re not…nearby, are they? The lions?” Surely he wouldn’t keep them close to the baby.

  He chuckled and touched her lower back to have her walk on. “They stay near the Big Top.”

  “And you just came from there?”

  He nodded, touch falling away. “I spend my mornings working with them but wasn’t there yesterday—which isn’t ideal. They have a nasty habit of misbehaving when they get jealous.” He winked.

  She was mildly tempted to ask what a misbehaving lion entailed.

  At his tent, Regina stood just outside, bartering with a man for coal. She paused and spoke to Charlie. “She’s just woken. And our lovely Angelina brought by a jar of honey for Axel.”

  Saying she was a dear, Charlie pulled back the tent flap for Ella who ducked in. Light played through the canvas walls, the space as homey as she remembered. Then she froze.

  There, lying on the bed with the stuffed tiger nestled against her, was Holland. She stared up at the canvas ceiling as air lifted it up and down—like grass on an open plain. Ella moved beside the baby and knelt on the rug. Holland peered over at her.

  “Hello, sweet one.” Ella pulled a locket timepiece from her medicine case, then slid her thumb into place to take the baby’s pulse.

  “She didn’t sleep well last night, but is doing better this morning,” Charlie said.

  Checking the timepiece confirmed that Holland’s pulse was lower today—one hundred and twelve beats per minute. Much better than it had been. Ella kissed her forehead. The baby blinked from her to Charlie with vibrant eyes. Her little mouth worked as she sucked what must have been a chip of licorice drop.

  Sliding on the locket, Ella motioned to the melting ice. “Will you smash that up?”

  Charlie moved to the shelf beside the stove and began banging about, returning a minute later with a dish of powdered ice.

  “Perfect.” Before Ella could ask for a spoon, he brought one.

  “She still won’t eat much.” Charlie knelt.

  Ella touched Holland’s forehead then gently lifted the baby to sit against her. “The fever is still there.” She held the spoon to the baby’s lips and Holland hesitated then suckled a taste of the ice.

  Charlie watched. “But she drank some.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  He used his finger to tap off a list. “I did the tea… the tincture…and the oil rub.” His eyebrows scrunched. “And something else that I can’t remember.”

  Ella smiled and with the air still fragrant with the scent of eucalyptus, she had a hunch what that was. Then she noted the shadows under his eyes. “Did you sleep?”

  “Like a king.” But by the way he rose, she sensed he was evading her question. He set about tidying up the small space.

  “You’re making yourself late, Charlie,” Regina said.

  Ella held the spoon and Holland nibbled more of the powdery ice. Charlie’s shirt was still untucked and wrinkled, and for the first time she noticed that the hem was spliced in several spots.

  “Was that from a lion?”

  Charlie peered down at the frayed edges, having to shove the front of his hair back as he did. “Oh. Yeah. Han and Kristov like to bring their claws out when we wrestle. But Axel has better manners.” As if that were the most normal thing to say, he walked up the crates and ducking, stepped into the wagon where he closed the curtains. “Did you see the new bills they hung around?” he called through.

  “Yes,” Regina said. “They’re excellent. You look very fierce.”

  Then his voice through the curtain, “I smiled, but no one ever draws me that way.”

  Regina winked over at Ella.

  “Have you seen the tin of greasepaint?” he asked.

  “It’s here on the shelf.”

  His muffled voice, “And here I was hoping it got lost.”

  Regina whispered to Ella, “He doesn’t like it.” The small woman stirred her pot and Ella nodded like she understood what they were talking about.

  When Holland had chewed and swallowed another taste of ice, Ella filled the tiny spoon again. Charlie called out for his shirt and Regina ambled over to where it sat folded on a chair. She slipped it to him through the curtain, taking the other in exchange. Ella kept her eyes away from the slim part and tried not to notice the way he was thunking about. Regina set the tattered shirt on top of a sewing box that had several others waiting to be mended. Then she ducked behind a small, folding partition that must have hidden her bed from view because she stepped back around with a folded blanket.

  By the time Ella coaxed a smile from Holland, the curtain opened and Charlie climbed out. Dressed in black pants and tall, polished boots, he seemed more commanding than ever. He’d carefully tucked a crisp white shirt beneath an embroidered waistcoat and from a peg on the wall pulled down a green velvet jacket that was so dark it was almost black. Cropped in the front and longer in back, he slid it over his sturdy shoulders. Ella could only stare as he knotted a black cravat around his neck, tucking it with hurried hands beneath his
vest. He finished by casually touching the top button at his collar, then the cuff links on each sleeve.

  She must have stared overlong because he stopped his tugging and straightening and smiled at her. She slammed her mouth closed.

  Chuckling, he turned to a mirror on the wall, leaned toward it, and dampened his hair from the washstand. Next he opened a tin of pomade and ran some through. Ella smoothed her hand over Holland’s fingers and watched as Regina brought Charlie a comb. He slicked his hair back, parting it to the side, combing it until it was perfectly smooth.

  His gaze found hers in the mirror.

  And drat, she was still staring. Ella set the empty cup of ice aside and Holland played with the spoon, twisting it and turning it in pudgy hands. She dropped it to pull at her ear and Ella handed it back. Using a small rag, Ella dabbed gently at the baby’s runny nose. The moisture there, combined with the lack of a rash, both blessed indication that this was likely tonsillitis that hadn’t bloomed into its more fatal cousin, Rheumatic fever.

  Charlie moved another tin down from a shelf and pulled out a few things.

  “The white—do the white,” Regina said.

  “I don’t want to.” He rubbed at his smooth jaw.

  “It’s opening day, they’ll expect it.”

  “I don’t have time.”

  “Sit down. I’ll do it.” When Charlie grinned, Regina smiled over at Ella. “Do you see how I spoil him?”

  Ella peered down to see that Holland was blinking asleep. Despite herself, she pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead once more. Charlie watched the exchange with a curious expression. Then something Regina said snapped him back to attention. He tugged a crate over to where the woman was waiting with the tin.

  He sat, closed his eyes, and bent his head back. Regina smeared powder over his face until it was white, then took a black pencil from the box. With expert movements, she drew the shape of a masquerade mask, then around his eyes angled, cat-like openings. She shaded the mask in with gentle strokes from a jar of black coloring until it was as solid as midnight. The effect was both peculiar and intriguing.

  “Do you do this every time you perform?” Ella asked.

  Charlie squinted over at her, his expression slightly guarded as if he knew how uncommon this was. “Yes, but thankfully Regina is very good at what she does.”

  The small woman told him to hold still. “He only says that so he doesn’t have to do it.” A few more strokes of her pencil, then Regina leaned back and studied the masquerade effect. “Now you’re really going to be late.” She wiped her stout hands on a rag.

  Charlie moved about before returning to the center of the tent with a brass-topped cane and a pair of white gloves. “My hat?”

  Regina pointed to his wagon bed and Charlie fetched a black top hat, wearing it for several seconds before he swapped it for another.

  “See you this afternoon,” Regina said.

  Charlie bid her farewell, then set the new hat on his head, tilting it down and a hint to the side, shading his brow. He gave Ella a mischievous smile, his face just as handsome with the paint as without.

  “Goodbye, Miss Holland.” He tipped his hat toward the baby, strode to the tent opening, then glanced back, his green eyes somehow more vivid now. “Thank you, Ella. If you’re here when I’m done, I’ll walk you out.” He smiled, then was gone.

  Ella hadn’t realized her mouth was ajar until Regina strode back to her pot saying, “If the wind changes, your face will stay that way.”

  Swiveling toward the woman, Ella knew she needed to speak the question that lay waiting to be acknowledged, and even now she was sure to sound like a ridiculous schoolgirl. “How long…how long are you here? In Roanoke?”

  “We perform for three days. By tomorrow, we’ll have two left. Then it’s farther north.”

  Holland’s soft breathing filled the silence.

  Ella peered down at the baby, then to the slit in the tent where Charlie had vanished. “And then you’re all gone. Just like that.”

  Regina gave Ella a sad smile, as if understanding. “Just like that, mia cara.” She said it gently, then pressed a small, soft hand to Ella’s cheek. “It is like the wind, you will find. He is here one moment, then gone the next. No trace of anything, just memory.” She pulled away, and started back to her stove.

  Ella feared what may have shown in her face, and when Regina spoke again, knew it had been enough. “If I could have a pearl for every broken heart that trailed that man…” Regina’s whispered voice fell to silence, but Ella had a hunch she’d be a wealthy woman.

  C H A P T E R 6

  __________

  With his sights set on the back yard of the lot, Charlie strode through the crowd. Rubes always stared when he was dressed up. Especially after all of those people had been in the matinee. Because conversation always turned personal, he’d learned to keep moving, but he did wave to a pair of boys who stood gaping as if they had a million burning questions. Their hope visibly fell when he strode by.

  Conscience kicking in, Charlie slowed then circled back a few steps. They bolted up to him.

  “Do you feed the lions zebra?” the oldest of the pair asked.

  “Only when we run out of little boys.”

  They grinned and their mother smirked.

  Charlie tipped his hat to her then took a knee as her sons pelted him with more curiosities.

  “Where do they sleep at night?”

  “Do they purr?”

  “Are their manes pokey?”

  No space to get a word in edgewise, Charlie simply tousled the youngest lad’s hair when the boy asked, “How do you tame a lion?”

  Charlie peered into the two freckled faces and saw eyes—souls—that would one day be men’s. Men with children and wives entrusted to their care. “You really want to know how to tame a lion?”

  They nodded quickly. He waved them closer, and a small, brave hand grazed the gold braiding on the side of his sleeve. Charlie smiled, then spoke soft and low, the answer for their ears alone.

  They stepped back but a moment later, expressions awed. Surprised.

  “Truly?” the oldest asked.

  Charlie made a show of crossing his heart. “You remember that.” He rose, nodded toward their mother and the crowd that had gathered, then bid the lads goodbye before starting back on his way.

  The show had gone well, and as much as he’d wanted to hurry home today, he didn’t want to abandon his post at the lions’ feeding. His cats were fed twice a week, about twenty pounds of meat apiece, and Charlie made it a habit—just as his father before him—to oversee the process. Some trainers believed that a fat lion was docile, more easily pacified, while other circuses fed their big cats less than desirable fare to cut costs. Disagreeing heartily on both accounts, Charlie liked seeing his lions happy and healthy, and overseeing the quality of their meals was crucial to that.

  But it had also delayed him longer than he’d accounted for when he’d promised to walk Ella home.

  Back in his tent, he was met with nothing other than a note. Charlie hung up his coat and hat. He yanked off the waistcoat and tossed it on his bed, followed by the cravat. Smearing a dab of oil over his face freed the greasepaint then he scrubbed his skin clean with a rag at the washstand. Aiming to get a sandwich, he walked out, the note from Ella folded in hand.

  Charlie fetched his dinner and ate it in the shade of the cookhouse tent while workers and performers filed in and out. After polishing off a glass of lemonade, he headed for the crowded midway. A pair of Romani men walked by juggling colored pins, and beyond that a cluster of people aaah’d as three clowns spun plates on striped sticks. Charlie strolled along, not needing to watch to know how the act would end. He’d seen it more times than he could count.

  Seated on a stool in the middle of the midway, a man played a bright red calliope—his fingers tapping out a cheery riverboat tune through the golden pipes of the steam piano. A monkey at his feet held out a hat, accepting tips.


  The crowd was beyond thick and two ladies waiting in line for a palm reading studied Charlie openly as he inched by them. Their gowns were fashionable, lace collars high to their chins, dainty hats bedecked with feathers. The scent of perfume hung thick around them. They put a bit of sugar into their smiles and he gave a cordial one back, but what he wanted was to find Ella.

  And then he spotted her. Standing in the sunlight beside the Big Top, looking at a cage with brightly colored birds. She bounced gently, Holland bound snug in the sling.

  Charlie broke through the crowd and walked up behind her. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said softly.

  Ella turned and searched his face. “I’m sorry. Regina was heading to the market and Holland was fussy, so I thought if I walked her, she’d settle easier. She ate all the crushed ice and seemed to want more. I wish I’d brought more. I thought some sunlight and fresh air might distract her.” She touched the soft fabric of the sling that was usually draped across his own chest. “Regina helped me tie it. Holland fell right to sleep.”

  Charlie peered down. Holland’s round cheek was pressed against the front of Ella’s dress, her tiny lips parted, and she lay so still, he doubted a hundred cymbals would wake her now. “You have a way with her,” he said, meaning it and trying to set Ella at ease as he touched her elbow and gently turned them away from the cage. “I need to get you back inside, though.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Please don’t be.” He winced, already regretting his next words. “Do you remember when I told you it was against the rules for you to be here…with me?”

  She nodded soberly.

  “I meant that. If it was just you out it would be fine. But with Holland, too many people around could recognize her and…” he hated to say this, “trace you back to me.”

  She appeared uneasy as he led her on. “What does that mean?” she whispered.

  “It just means that…” He ran a hand through his hair as he walked them forward. “It means that I’m not supposed to have any kind of company. Not with townies. Even standing out here talking to you is—”

  “Even though I’m just a nurse?” She peered up so kindly that the line between Ella and Ella the nurse felt very blurred.