by Cathy Quinn
Courting the Clown
by Cathy Quinn
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2010 Cathy Quinn
Chapter 1
“If you’re looking for purgatory, it’s that way.”
The cynical female voice drifted to him out of nowhere. Nick halted just inside the gate and looked around the small front yard, white with snow, littered with hundreds of little footsteps. He saw no-one. A huge plastic Santa was on his belly by the door, a plastic Rudolph on the other side, several trees glowed with fairy lights in the afternoon dusk, and a Christmas wreath was hung on the front door.
But none of the decorations seemed to be a talking road-sign to the afterlife.
“Excuse me?” he said to thin air, and felt Lana’s mittened hand creep into his own. He looked down at his daughter, squeezed her small hand and smiled. She didn’t often initiate contact these days. Every time was precious.
Even when caused by fear of a disembodied voice.
“Purgatory. That way.”
A movement alerted him to where the voice was coming from and Lana’s small gasp told him she had seen it too.
It wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t noticed her. Wearing a white and red clown’s costume complete with orange polka dots, a wig, a red plastic nose and tons of white make-up, she was well camouflaged in the afternoon dusk, sitting flat-legged in the snow in front of the redbrick house. She was pointing around the side of the house, her arm slanting down as if she was too tired to even gesture, her head back against the wall and her words punctuated by tiny clouds of warm air emerging from her mouth. “I assume you’re here to pick up one of the fallen angels. They’re in the backyard. Working on a way to start World War III using snowballs. I wouldn’t be surprised if they succeeded, too. They’ve got a fearsome little lady general.”
Nick suppressed a grin. As the single father of two, he thought her description of a crowd of five-year-olds as fallen angels was pretty apt. And he had a feeling he might know the little lady general.
And the diagnosis of that clown wasn’t difficult, even for a med-school dropout: post-traumatic shock. He’d been there a few times himself. Kids were hell on the nerves, especially around birthdays and Christmas, and this was both.
“That bad, huh?”
“ Have you heard of Calvin & Hobbes?”
“The cartoon strip? Of course. It’s my favorite.”
“Mine too.” She nodded in the direction of the backyard. “Well, back there is Calvin’s evil twin sister.”
Uh, oh. Why did that description send shivers down his back? He walked closer, and felt his daughter’s small fingers tighten on his hand as she followed. “What did they do to you?”
The clown shook her head, looking dazed, even behind the paint and the big red nose. She looked young and exhausted, her eyes wide and dark, and a few strands of hair escaped the red clown’s wig. “I just started today. Heck, I didn’t even start, I was just considering the possibility. There were supposed to be two of us, but my friend Susie – my former friend,” she amended with a grim frown. “She drove me here, tossed me out and left. Said she’d needed to do her Christmas shopping. She talked so fast I couldn’t even get a ‘no way’ in and then she was gone.”
The clown gestured randomly, and then let her hands fall to her sides. “She said it would be no big deal. She said it would be fun. I’d just be my natural sunny self – I should have known something was up when she described me that way, don’t you think? I mean, I haven’t been “sunny” a day in my life. Well, I didn’t suspect. A few innocent children at a birthday party – who’d have guessed they were brats out of the nether regions of hell?” Her gaze moved to Lana and she gave a weak smile and a half-hearted wave. “Hi, kid. No offense.”
Lana was staring at the clown, her grip on Nick’s hand even tighter now. He smiled down at her to let her know it was okay. His daughter feared a lot of things – but clowns hadn’t been one of them so far. He hoped they weren’t about to be added to her large collection of ‘scary stuff’. He already had his evenings full, checking under her bed and inside her closet and making sure – five times – that her windows were closed and locked.
“Any major injuries?” he asked the clown. “Shouldn’t you be inside? Or going home? That costume doesn’t look very warm.”
“I know.” She slumped even more, if that was possible. “I messed up. Forgot everything. My purse is with my real clothes, back at the office. My cell phone is inside it. So is my wallet.”
“I see. “
The clown patted the reindeer at her side and rested her head against the plastic belly. “I’m hoping Rudolph will take me home.”
Nick felt Lana’s hand slacken within his own. He looked down to find her staring at the clown with an interest she didn’t show often. It brought hope to his heart. Maybe she’d be back to normal soon.
“Do you need a lift downtown? You can ride with us, if you want,” he offered. Lana was intrigued by the clown. Anything that got her interest was good enough in his book. “No problem – if you don’t mind sharing a car with two little ‘angels’, of course.”
Her head rose away from Rudolph and surprised – and suspicious - brown eyes fixed on him. “Huh? Why would you offer a strange clown a ride?”
“Daddy?” Lana pulled on his hand, distracting him from the clown’s lovely eyes, and he bent down to her. She put her arms around his neck and her mouth directly on his ear. “Daddy, I want the clown. I want the clown for my birthday party. Please?”
Nick stared into his daughter’s excited blue eyes and tried not to let his astonishment show. Lana hadn’t wanted to talk about her birthday at all. She’d refused any attempts he’d made to discuss the party they would have, the guests they’d invite. Last year, she’d even refused to open her presents. He’d ended up unwrapping them himself a few days later, when it was obvious she wasn’t going to, and quietly arranging the loot among the other toys in her room. It had been a depressing day, and things hadn’t improved much since then.
“You do, honey?” He knelt down to reach his daughter’s level, not caring about the chill and wetness from the snow seeping through his jeans. Careful, he warned himself. Don’t make a big deal out of this or she might back off. “You want a clown at your birthday party?” You want a birthday party?
Lana’s birthday was only a few days away, but because of last year’s fiasco he hadn’t invited anyone yet. He’d wanted to respect Lana’s wishes this time, and intended to keep it small. Something simple. A few presents, a cake, nothing intimidating, no big deal. Just the three of them, and the girls’ pets, maybe their grandmother.
If he could get his mother to promise to behave.
“Yes.” Lana hooked one arm around his neck and gestured at the clown with the other hand. “I want this clown. It’s a girl clown, Daddy! I’ve never seen a girl clown before! Can she come? Please?”
“Absolutely,” he promised his daughter without hesitation, his heart light with joy and relief. Lana was coming around. He’d trusted she would eventually, but the wait was difficult. It was hell, seeing his child so unhappy.
She would have the best birthday party ever.
He hugged the child close and she graciously allowed him two seconds before pulling away. He kept his hand on her shoulder and grinned at the clown who’d been watching their quiet exchange absently. She must be freezing. That costume couldn’t provide much protection from the December frost.
“Why don’t you go find your sister?” Nick suggested to his daughter. “Sounds like all the kids are still out in the back yard, playing in the snow. I’ll talk to your girl clown in the meantime.”
Lana hesitated.
“She’s just around the co
rner,” Nick told her. “Don’t you hear the kids yelling? You can peek around the corner to make sure, and if she’s not there, you just come back here. I’ll be right here waiting.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Lana walked cautiously past the clown, staring at her, and broke into a run as soon as she was safely past. As interested as she was in the ‘girl clown’, there wasn’t complete trust yet. She peeked past the corner, then glanced back and waved and disappeared.
Nick turned to the clown. He smiled at the painted face, feeling warm towards anyone who’d managed to reach Lana.
“You’ve made quite an impression on my daughter,” he told her. “She wants to hire you for her birthday party. That’s next week. I know it’s no doubt a busy month for you, but are you available?”
“Huh?”
The clown was looking at him in utter incomprehension. How much clearer could he be?
“My daughter. Lana.” He pointed at her footsteps in the snow to clarify. “She’s turning seven. We’d like to hire a clown for her birthday party.”
“Oh.”
“You.”
“What? Me? No! No way!” The clown had straightened from her slouch and the tear painted on her cheek suddenly seemed real. “No! Absolutely not!”
“You’re busy?” Nick frowned at the vehemence of her refusal. “I would pay double. Triple. Quadruple!” he added desperately as she began shaking her head. This was vitally important. For the first time since her mother died, Lana was asking for something. She wanted a birthday party, a birthday clown. She was looking forward to her birthday.
“No. I can’t do it,” the clown said, nearly hyperventilating.
Yes, she could!
She would!
She had to.
There was no way he could let his daughter down.
Nick crossed his arms on his chest and prepared to challenge the clown. “Just one hour. I’ll pay five times the going rate.”
She shook her head. “The money doesn’t matter. I can’t do it.”
“Why?” She didn’t owe him an explanation, he knew that. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking. If it was some flimsy excuse, something he could fix or change...
The clown gestured at her outfit. “I’m not doing this again. Ever. I’m never ever putting this stupid suit on again.”
“That’s all? You don’t want to?”
“That’s reason enough, isn’t it? You’ll just have to find someone else.”
Nick felt an irrational surge of anger towards the clown. Someone else? Lana wanted this one! Not that he believed in giving children whatever they wanted, but these were special circumstances. “This is important to my daughter. She’s had it rough. She’s lost her mother. This is the first time since...” He broke off. There was no need telling his life story to a stranger. Much as he’d like to, he couldn’t force this clown to perform.
“Do you have a business card?” he asked, resigned. “For the agency?” Maybe there was someone else there whose arm he could twist. Maybe Lana just wanted a clown, no this particular clown. After all, she couldn’t have everything she wanted, and that was an important lesson to learn.
Then again, it was a lesson Lana had already learned.
The clown patted her bulky suit. “Maybe there’s a business card in some of these million pockets. Or I guess I could ask them to call you, if you give me your number.”
Nick reached into his pocket for his stash of business cards. Instead he encountered one of Lana’s tiny teddy bears. He held it in his palm and stared at it for a long moment. The tiny brown eyes glinted from the fairy lights, and the red bow was askew.
He was carrying the little guys everywhere now. Sometimes Lana would be overwhelmed with anxiety, and nothing helped except a quiet moment with one of her stuffed animal. Sometimes she’d let him hold her. Sometimes not. A seven-year-old shouldn’t be having anxiety attack. It wasn’t fair.
His resolve strengthened. He couldn’t let Lana down
But how to get the clown to agree?
He’d tried bribes and emotional blackmail already. Maybe charm was worth a try.
He carefully slid the tiny bear back into a pocket and pulled the glove off his hand. He held it out to the woman, turning on the megawatt smile that back in the dark ages had worked on most of the female race. “I’m Nick. Nick Falcon.”
She reached up and his hand enveloped a bulky mitten, pink with orange polka-dots. “Sylvie Farrell. Also known as Fluffy the Clown. Hi. Nice to meet you. Good luck finding your clown.”
She wasn’t going to do it. Nick crouched down and touched her arm. The sleeve was thin. She was freezing. “Would you please do this for us?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “I’ll pay you five times.... ten times the usual price, and there won’t be many kids. They won’t be any trouble. I’ll be there, and make sure nothing ... bad ... happens to you.”
Sylvie opened her mouth and started shaking her head, but he barged on. He wasn’t above playing the orphan card. “My kid has had it really rough since she lost her mother. Nightmares, anxiety attacks, not speaking, not playing... She deserves this. She needs this.”
The clown waved a hand helplessly. “But―“
“You don’t have to stay long. You don’t even have to perform. Just show up in that costume and play with them for a while.”
“That’s just it!” the clown – Sylvie – wailed. “I don’t know how to play with kids! They scare me. I have no idea how to act around them!”
“I do. I’m an expert in playing with kids. I won’t leave you alone with them for a minute, and they certainly won’t get away with... whatever they did to terrify you back there.”
Sylvie sighed, which he took as a good sign. As long as she wasn’t saying “No!”, he’d consider himself ahead. Now he just had to work his way towards an actual “Yes.”
Sylvie pulled the clown’s nose off her face and stuffed it in the oversized breast pocket. The rubber bands left red marks on her cheeks, and apparently it hadn’t been comfortable as she kept rubbing at the red streaks. She was pretty, he noticed distantly. He might as well have been living in a monastery for all the adult female companionship he’d enjoyed recently, but he still noticed.
Her nose was almost as red as the plastic one, but her face was elfin, and from what he could tell, her eyes were almost as blue as his daughters’, and slightly slanted. He found himself wondering what color her hair was under that dreadful wig. In the red and green glow of the fairy lights, it was impossible to tell from the few loose strands, but he guessed she was a brunette.
“I’m very sorry that your daughter is having problems, Mr. Falcon. And I’m so sorry they’ve lost their mother and you’ve lost your wife. That’s terrible. I wish I could help. But I’m just not what you need. You want to hire a clown – despite current appearances I’m not one.” She pushed ineffectually at the wall in an effort to stand up. “Damn, am I frozen to the ground or what?”
“You’re exactly what you need.” He held out a hand, and she yanked off the oversized glove and grabbed it, scrambling to her feet with his help. Her hand was icy. He didn’t let go right away and held on tight when she tried to pull her hand back.
He couldn’t let her go.
She was the next stepping-stone in Lana’s journey back to a happy, secure childhood. He set his jaw and tightened his hold on her hand. If that left a pint-size footprint on Sylvie Farrell’s back, so be it.
“Mr. Falcon?” He felt her cold hand twitch inside his, try to work itself loose. “My hand back, please? Or did you plan on abducting me to your daughter’s birthday party?”
She’d read his mind. “Nick. Call me Nick. Sorry.” Her hand dropped abruptly to her side as he released it, and he almost chuckled when he saw her put both hands behind her back. Probably a smart move. He wasn’t used to being this aggressive, but desperate times did call for desperate measures.
“You can’t hire me,” she repeated. “Seriously. I’m not a regular clown, you see. N
o clown university or anything. No polka-dot diploma.” She rubbed her face where the marks from the rubber bands still hadn’t faded. “This red nose is borrowed and doesn’t even fit me.”
“But―“
“This was a total accident. I never should have been here in the first place. I never should have been stupid enough to put on this costume. I should have realized it was all part of Susie’s little scheme. Besides...” She lowered her voice and looked in the direction Lana had vanished to. “If your daughter is having some psychological issues, she’s probably better off with a therapist than a clown.”
“She’s seen therapists,” Nick bit out. “She’s done it all. She’s seen play therapists and music therapists and art therapists. She’s buried action figures in sandboxes, punched dolls and acted out our family dinners with teddy bears. She’s had her drawings interpreted and been instructed to tell stories about the little puppy and the mommy dog who went away.” He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, reliving the frustration of the last year. “If you ask me, she’s seen too many therapists. It hasn’t helped much.”
“I’m very sorry,” Sylvie said.
Nick wasn’t in the mood for apologies, excuses or commiserations. He just wanted a simple yes. He stepped closer to her, wishing he could do as she’d suggested and kidnap her to the party. When she inched backwards and looked past him, scanning the front yard anxiously, he reined himself in. No need to come across as half-crazed, even though he was getting there, day by day, nightmare by nightmare. He stepped back and flashed her a carefree smile. “You don’t stand a chance of making a run for it,” he warned her with a crooked grin. He gestured at her costume. “I would catch you by that donkey’s tail pinned to your butt.”
Sylvie stared at him for a minute, then she laughed, a surprised but musical sound. She grabbed the bulky seat of her costume and yanked it sideways, trying to reach the safety pin holding the tail in place. “I guess I was lucky they didn’t draw blood when they pinned this on me.” She grimaced as she worked on loosening the pin, both hands stretched behind her back. “You know, I almost believe you would abduct me. This is really a big deal to you, isn’t it?” Her hands slipped on the pin and she cursed. “Damn. My hands are so numb from the cold.”