by The Lady
Ella closed her eyes when everyone else did. It was nice, Arnold’s prayer. He had no hands to fold and yet his words felt truer and more eloquent than many of the prayers she’d heard over her life.
When he finished, Charlie lifted the book and held it to read. “It says, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.’”
Ella listened carefully.
“‘Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart.’” Charlie tipped his head to the side and seemed to collect his thoughts. With his free hand, he adjusted the collar of his shirt, then reached over and fiddled with a sleeve cuff. His gaze filtered over the room of people—over Ella. “‘And ye shall find rest unto your souls.’”
He looked down at the book again, but at the way his eyes were wide and searching, she sensed he wasn’t reading the text. But his heart. A heart that she sensed held pain, when his voice grew weak. “‘For My yoke is easy…and My burden is light.’”
C H A P T E R 1 8
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Standing with Angelina and her sisters, Ella laughed as they told her a story of Charlie from several years ago. Something about a cow and a mud puddle. They had nearly reached their climax, voices shrill with excitement, when Charlie stepped into their circle and held out a hand.
“Now that’s enough of that, I’ll have you know,” he blurted.
“We were just getting to the best part!” Danielle said, and though her face was youthful, her voice held a richness that had Ella thinking she was the oldest of the three women.
“The best part of that story is ‘The End,’” Charlie interjected.
They laughed and Ella smiled up at him.
“You three are a bad influence on her.” He feigned a whisper just for Ella. “Don’t believe a word they say about me.”
“Oh, I just hope they have more stories,” Ella teased.
Angelina’s dainty brows danced. “We have quite a collection.”
“You know?” Arms wide, Charlie ushered them away from his tent which only released their chorus of feminine giggles. “That’s all for today. Bye-bye.”
The sisters waved at Ella, then thanked Regina for the cake she’d served after church. They’d sat outside eating the lemony confection while Ella had wandered over to Little Joe to see how he was faring and to feel his forehead for any signs of a fever. She wished she’d had the forethought to bring him some ice as that had comforted Holland so.
Charlie hoisted up a wooden plank that had served as a bench, then carried it out. Returning, he hefted one of the barrels and took it out as well. His steps were a little slower when he came back, expression somber. “Before you go, Ella, I need to speak with you. It’s kind of important, so not just now. Once we get the baby settled, would you have some spare time?”
She nodded. His smile was sad, sending a cool sensation into her toes. He hoisted the other barrel, placed the bulk of it to his shoulder, and strode out into the sunshine.
A moment later, he rushed back in. “She’s here.”
“Who?”
“The Madame.”
In a whoosh that took Ella’s breath away, he scooped her up and strode over to the wagon. Ignoring the steps, he lifted her onto the mattress. “Stay very quiet. Don’t. Make. A sound.” He slammed the curtains closed.
Ella crawled to her knees and shoved the hair away from her face. Peering through a slit in the curtain, she watched Charlie grab up her shawl and stuff it under Holland’s mattress. He and Regina exchanged a guarded look.
Uncertain, Ella shifted deeper into Charlie’s bed until the hard side of the wagon was against her back. She glanced around the dim space to try and make sense of this. Charlie’s abundance of clothes and top hats was scattered about, his essence everywhere. She went to look through the slit of light, but something drew her focus back to the sidewall of the green wagon. Markings. She squinted. Tallies. Dozens…no…
She touched the scratches in the wood.
…hundreds of them.
Ella pulled away just as a woman stepped into the tent.
Charlie stood in the center of the room, arms folded across his chest. The woman looked around, then finally pierced him with a glare. Ella leaned farther back but still saw the slight, pale-faced visitor through the tiny opening. Her black hair was piled up into a fashionable bun. Ella recognized her from the other day before the show. The thin woman took her time surveying Charlie’s tent.
“Traveling alone, I see,” Charlie said.
“You would like to think so.”
Ella couldn’t place the woman’s foreign accent as she spoke to someone just outside. A large man pulled a chair in front of the tent opening. As if to keep guard. His arms were like tree trunks and he sat with a creak, the wood sounding about to snap.
Still in the center of the tent, Charlie gave his female guest a dark little smile. “It really is a shame when they don’t come house trained.”
Ignoring him, the woman moved along one side of the tent. She lifted a cloth, glimpsing underneath. She turned a jar of flowers, slowly…
“I’ll thank you not to touch my things,” Charlie said. “But say, as fun as this is—”
“I’ve come for my explanation. I was missing an act last night. He just…” a bony hand fanned in front of his face, “didn’t appear.”
Ella put fingertips to her mouth and closed her eyes. Oh, Charlie. He’d stayed with her.
“Would you like to tell me why that is?”
“I got hung up.” Charlie snapped his fingers. “Promise not to let it happen again.”
“Who is she?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Charlie moved out of view again and Ella tried not to even think about shifting. “Coffee?” he asked. “It’s nearly fresh.”
“Oh, shut up.” The stranger’s dark eyes lingered momentarily on the wagon before skimming elsewhere. “I’ve already seen you with her so you can just stop your game.” She stepped closer and Ella’s heart shot into her throat. “It would seem we have a problem on our hands. If I’m not mistaken, we had a little understanding.”
“I’m rather aware of that understanding, and if it helps you sleep at night, that lady is just a nurse. For Holland. Who was very sick and is better now, thanks for asking.”
The woman cast a dismissive glance to where the baby was playing on her trundle bed. “Hmm.” She moved as if to pick her up.
But then Charlie was there, a look so fierce, Ella’s skin prickled. The side of his large hand was pressed to the woman’s knobby one as they stared at one another.
“I’m not going to take her,” she said condescendingly. “Probably couldn’t even keep her fed, the fat little thing.”
Charlie didn’t so much as move.
The woman rolled her eyes. “You are so theatrical.”
“You can get out of my tent now.”
“And you can remember to honor your contracts.” Her expression tightened. “Or I might forget to honor mine.” She strode toward the slit of light, glancing dismissively at Holland. “Then where would we be?” With silent steps, she left.
Rising slowly, the giant of a man followed her.
Charlie stood in the entryway a long while. Ella’s heart pounded, and with her legs aching, she finally allowed a small shift. Charlie strode back to the wagon and opened the curtain on one side. The brightness hurt her eyes and she blinked against it.
Standing there squarely, he searched her face.
“What was that?” Ella breathed.
He reached to help her down, but she stopped him. Not help. Answers.
“She works here and her name is Madame Broussard.” He reached for her again. “Please?”
Ella shook her head.
Charlie rested his elbow on the side of the wagon and leaned forward. His fingers slid into his hair. “Ella.”
Pulse rising up her throat, she braved the words, “You said before that you work for her.”
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He nodded.
She remembered how hard he had labored to draw a crowd. “That’s what she was doing then, the other day. Paying you.”
Then he was leaning toward her, face down, eyes closed. “Can you give me a moment?” He took a few slow breaths and she could see he was trying to find the words. “Please.”
Still on his mattress, Ella inched forward, drawing closer.
“She wasn’t paying me,” he finally said. “That wasn’t money. It was a list of instructions.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m just going to say this,” he whispered. After casting a glance over his shoulder at Regina, he turned to Ella. “Do you remember…do you remember that I told you that Mimi died which is why I now have Holland?”
Ella nodded quickly, feeling a sliver of fear at how distant his eyes were.
“She—Mimi—died when the baby was five weeks old.”
“Yes.”
His eyes implored hers. “But I didn’t get her from my sister. I got her from the woman who was here. She acquired the baby from Mimi’s husband in a business deal. They have a contract stating that Holland is hers.”
“What?”
He tipped his chin up and looked at Ella—grief so heavy in his face that her blood went cold. “It’s a story that I can tell you. But it’s complicated, and right now, there’s something I need you to know.”
But Ella couldn’t think clearly. The chills pierced her heart. “Holland…belongs to her?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore.” He peered up at her with anguish. So much so that she thought she was going to be sick. “I do.”
C H A P T E R 1 9
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Her face went cold. “You what?”
Charlie swallowed hard. As if unable to bear her shock, he lowered his head in his hands and stared at the ground.
Regina rocked in her little chair and stilled when Holland crawled over to be scooped up. Hefting the child into her arms, Regina rose and told Charlie she would give them a few minutes. She ambled out.
Ella climbed down so she could turn and face him.
His sorrow was palpable as the tent fell silent. The cool breeze that slipped in the only thing that moved until Ella touched his arm. “Charlie?”
When he finally looked at her, his lashes were wet. Her blood thinned. Stomach lurching, she tried to speak.
As though summoning his courage, his throat worked. “There’s something I need to tell you. I didn’t do it sooner because there didn’t seem a point. But now there is.”
Tipping his chin up, he loosened the button of his sleeve cuff. Something he had never done before. Not even when he washed. With barely a sound, his mouth moved—words Ella didn’t catch. One of his songs? One of his prayers?
What was happening?
He appeared to fight a battle with his fingers a moment, then slowly rolled the cuff back. Once…and then again. His golden-brown wrist was darkened by markings—everywhere. The same type as the script on his hand. Splashes of black that stained every inch of his skin.
Ella’s knees nearly buckled.
He rolled the sleeve up to his elbow, showing that his forearm was covered entirely in gruesome ink drawings. Tattoos, he’d called them. How far did they go? She opened her mouth but nothing came out. He didn’t look at her as he loosened the button of the other sleeve. Peeling back the fabric. Showing her his other arm was as horribly marked as the first.
Her eyes grazed over the twisting, coiling shapes engraved on his skin. Her stomach rolling, the words were thick on her tongue. “Are there more?”
He nodded. His hand lifted to the button at his collar, and then he dropped it. He lifted it again, then lowered it, blowing out a breath. Sweat glistened on his brow.
Heart hammering, Ella took a step closer and then another. She studied the width of his white collar that was always buttoned so high and tight. Why had she thought so little of it before? She’d simply assumed him very modest. Then her hands were moving there. Her shaking hands. Gently he stopped her. His eyes on her were broken as he tipped his chin up again and loosened the top button. Her head went woozy and he moved to the one below. Freeing it.
Then he dropped his hands at his sides. Before she could change her mind, she peeled his shirt away from his collarbone only to see more markings. Tears blurred the sight as he loosened another button, then one more. She pressed shaking fingers where the two sides of his shirt met against his chest, and carefully, she brushed the fabric aside. Oh, God. She traced her eyes where the pictures continued down his abdomen, thick and solid, to the waist of his pants. Ella stepped back, nearly stumbling.
“Ella.” His voice was bleak.
The room spun.
She needed to sit down. Needed to wake up from this dream. It couldn’t be real. Not Charlie. He hadn’t done this to himself. “You gave yourself to that woman,” she breathed.
“Yes.”
“Like this?”
“It was the lesser of two evils.” His voice was terribly dark.
Her mouth worked to speak, but nothing came out. Tears stinging her eyes, Ella motioned toward him. “And Holland?” she whispered.
“Is mine now.”
She nodded furiously. “That’s…that’s good. That’s so good.” Her chest heaved for air as Holland’s safety whirred in her mind alongside the darkness he was baring.
“I’ve startled you.” The words slipped out broken.
“No. No.” Ella willed herself to reassure him. But air wasn’t coming. Or maybe it was coming too fast. The whole world blurred.
“Ella, a deep breath.” Charlie’s voice was distant.
His hand gripped her arm. Was she falling?
She was a nurse, training should have her stronger than this. Despairing at what he had done to himself, at the misery Holland had been facing down, her mind swung to the science of it. “It’s permanent. Forever?”
“It’s indelible.”
“Done with a needle.”
“An electric one.”
“Are you in pain?”
“…not anymore.”
Relief spread through her, but he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. His hand slid to the side of her neck, fingers into her hair. “Ella, you’re not my nurse.”
“No.” Tears welled. At his touch, his body, his reality—she didn’t know. Surely it was all of it, and what was clear was that he’d deceived her.
I’d like to—I could go with you. I’ve yet to see this show and I’ve been wanting…
This one’s not much to see.
Peering up at him now was like being under water. She could see the surface—see the sun—but it was all out of reach and her lungs were on fire. Steadying herself, she backed away and quickly gathered up her things as he watched on. Ella hurried out, uncertain as to what it was she was truly running from, but with his footsteps behind her, feared she was about to find out.
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Charlie grabbed her arm, slowing her. He didn’t want to hurt her, but there was no way he was going to let her go. Not in this moment. She stumbled to a stop and turned to face him, but still gripping her arm, he led her away from the tents and wagons, to the outskirts of the lot. He said nothing and was glad that she was silent as he walked her out and away from people. The hilly meadows swallowed them up and still he led her on until she could scream at him and no one would hear it.
“What are you doing?” She panted the words calmly, but her eyes were doe-wide.
“If you will just listen, I will tell you. And stop running away.” Pacing a moment, he quickly finished buttoning his shirt, then turned to her so fast, she stumbled back. “This is why I don’t tell people. This is why I don’t make friends with people like you.”
“People like me?”
“Yes. People like you who think that this…” He motioned to his chest. “Who…” He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t name how she had to see him for her expression declared tha
t he was right. A part of his heart snapped. He knew that he was revolting. Gentlemen in bowler hats shouted it at him every night while women in high-collared gowns squirmed in his presence. He didn’t need Ella to writhe as well.
Making a fist, he pounded it against his forehead, one too many times it seemed when she looked about to run again. Best to just say it. “When Holland became Madame Broussard’s ward, I had to get her back.” He let that breathe again, hoping it would be enough for Ella to stop looking at him like that.
“What would this woman want with her?”
Of anyone, Ella would know this world wasn’t always a good place. “A little girl is very valuable to a woman like the Madame. She could have sold her…or made her a part of her show one day.” Or a million other things he still had nightmares about. “Madame has unconventional ways of making her money.” He could see Ella’s wheels spinning. Trying to piece it together. “And when she stated a price, I had nothing else to give.”
Wind whipped a strand of Ella’s hair across her face and she pushed it back. “I don’t understand that.”
Of course she didn’t. Because the crowds’ beloved lion tamer was splashed across half the banners in this place. Making him the highest paid performer here.
Charlie closed his eyes and forced himself to speak calmly. “I went to Madame Broussard and told her I would do anything to have Holland. She considered that and stated her price.” An insurmountable sum that he could never hope to obtain, not after he’d purchased the lions. Something the Madame knew as well. He told Ella as much. Except he left out the messy bits—what Olaf was capable of with those fists of his. A strength Charlie had tried to take down, leaving them both black and blue—and inspiring Madame to tuck Holland away in the city they’d been in with one of her cohorts. “I asked what it would take to find her. And this…” he touched the shirt over his chest, “is that price.”
“Forever? This contract—”
“No, not forever. Holland’s first year.” Just enough for the Madame to see him broken.
He was less than four months away. The wretched woman wanted him to continue and would give him a bulk of the profits, but he wanted no more of this nightmare.