....By morning, she’d
traveled miles from home. How many, she couldn’t say for sure, but she’d kept
moving until the orange glow of dawn began to creep up along the horizon. Only
when she knew for certain day was upon her did she finally allow her body to
rest. Curled up along the curve of a fallen tree trunk, she slept nestled in
the leaves and soft moss, hidden away behind the brush and overgrowth that had
long ago welcomed their fallen friend back home to the earth from which they’d
all grown.
When she awoke,
the sun sat high in the sky and the growl of her own stomach reminded her how
many hours had passed since her last meal. Even as her hollow insides whined in
discomfort, her appetite remained absent. Still, she knew she’d need her
strength. And so, her body sore and weak, she began to search for viable
sustenance. It took some time and foraging, but the forest supplied well,
offering up a fair share of wild blackberries and a handful of mushrooms she
recognized from hikes with her father. Those adventures with him seemed an
eternity ago now. On the rare occasion he’d been in town to do so, they’d spend
the day exploring the woods behind their home, wandering together, basking in
the midday sun, and enjoying whatever treats they’d stumbled upon on their
walk. Her father had always been good at finding treasured morsels among the
weeds and forest debris. His years of travel had taught him much, and so he’d
seen to it that she too learned to tell the poison from the berry, the edible
from the deadly. It had been all in good fun once upon a time. Now she could
hardly bear the pain of dwelling on the memories beyond the details she needed
to remember to survive.
Before long, her
stomach quieted and she returned to her journey, following paths walked only by
hooves and padded paws before her.
She navigated by
the sun during the day and let the stars guide her at night, slept and ate only
when her body demanded it, and kept far from the bounds of civilization. As the
days passed, her blistered feet became bruised and bloody. She left rusty red
marks in the dirt with her every step, the evidence of her pain oozing through
the holes in her battered shoes. All but one of her fingernails had ripped off
at the nailbed—nine casualties of clawing her way through the wild terrain and
fending for food and building fires on the coldest nights. Keeping to the woods
had sheltered her from rain and sun, but it had done little to preserve her
overall appearance. Her dress was filthy and torn. The exposed parts of her
body had suffered cuts and scrapes after repeated lashings from wayward tree
limbs and debris, which was carried on a whipping wind that left her cheeks and
lips burned and raw.
She tripped on a
long, knobby root of an ancient oak and let out a hoarse yelp from falling face
first and realized the absence of her voice. Startled, she touched her throat.
The rough calluses from her own hand against her tender skin caught her off
guard a second time. She didn’t recognize her own body anymore. Slowly, she
climbed back to her feet and steadied herself against the tree whose roots had
thwarted her.
There, standing
tall and staring blankly at the horizon, her new body and reborn spirit
glimpsed their new fate. The silence of the woods, which had been like an
invisible veil keeping her secluded during her journey, lifted. Beyond the
trees lay a vast, green valley. And it was filled with life, human life. She
relished the buzzing of voices and bodies hard at work. She looked closer. The
people she saw below were members of a traveling circus.
She’d heard
stories, of course, about the freaks who ran with the circus. Scoundrels always
on the hunt for their next schemes. Shameless women willing to do depraved
things too lurid to even contemplate. Tales of two-headed men and bearded
ladies, creatures so deformed and unnatural that the devil himself had a hand
in creating them. These stories had been meant to scare her away, to encourage
her to keep her distance from the likes of those who sought out the open road,
the shows, the tents, and the paths that led from sordid pasts to torrid
futures. The tales had always worked, but none quite as well as that of the
one-eyed man her mother had called the Human Snake, who hypnotized his audience
into submission, leaving them in his control forever after, none of them ever
the wiser of the terrible acts he had them perform while in their trance.
Fear of the unknown
had held her curiosities at bay. But now the unknown was all she had, and it
would take more than scary stories to frighten her away after all she’d
experienced. Besides, she couldn’t help but notice that the circus people were
laughing and working together. Some were even singing! She failed to sense any
wickedness, especially after she’d learned that real beasts could hide in her
own home. It was unlikely, she decided, that truly evil people would display
their traits for the world to marvel at—and charge an entry fee to do so.
Her feet moved
ever faster as she gained momentum down the hill, her only focus on reaching
the circus camp. Beyond that, she had few plans and nothing to offer. No one
seemed to take notice, at first, of the stranger in their midst. Then, one by
one, eyes strayed from their tasks and toward her. Motions grew slower,
conversations stopped, and the quiet slowly set in. Her footsteps, thudding
over grass and gravel, grew louder with each step. She squared her shoulders
and lifted the crown of her head skyward as she felt the heat of a hundred
stares following her every move. Still, she remained focused, staring straight
ahead at her goal: the carriage, nearest the engine, flagged with the brightest
red banner and marked in bold yellow lettering. Brooks and Bennet Circus—Come One, Come All.
She was inches
from reaching for the handle when the door swung open, seemingly of its own
accord, and a rail-thin man nearly seven feet tall strolled out. “What the
blazes has got you all tongue-tied all of a sudden? I can hear your peace and
quiet all the way in here!” He laughed to himself, then stopped when he spotted
her. “Oh. I see.” For the first time in her life she had to wonder what,
exactly, he was looking at as he stood before her, his head tilting sideways
toward his slumped left shoulder to get a better angle.
Any other time,
she’d have known exactly what he was looking at. Golden hair pinned up in the
front, with long, tight curls flowing down her back. Naturally rosy cheeks
highlighting a flawless complexion and bright green eyes sparkling under the
sunlight. Her whole life she’d never left her room unless she was impeccably
dressed. This was most certainly not the case today as she stood there in her
housekeeper’s rags. Nevertheless, she held her head high and waited patiently
while the man assessed her. His tan skin bore scars all around his arms,
visible where the sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up. His clothes fit
awkwardly due to his height, and the only item that looked entirely in place
was the blue linen cap he wore. It hid what was left of his graying hair. Laugh
lines were well worn into his leathery skin. The silver shadow of hair reaching
around his mouth and down his neck, proof he hadn’t shaved in at least a day or
two, wasn’t able to hide how his thin mouth twitched at the corners, always
threatening to break into a smile.
Then, a sadness
darkened his narrow blue eyes as he reached one lanky arm up to stroke his
stubbled jaw. “You have a name then, love?” he asked with a tenderness that
surprised her.
She cleared her
throat, remembering the absence of her voice. It took several attempts, but she
found the words she needed. Her answer rattled on a long, desperate breath she
feared would suffocate her if she didn’t release it.
“Annis, sir.
Annis Josephine Watson.”
She breathed in.
Her chest felt light. Her heart beat steadily. And just like that, five simple
words had brought her back to life.
COME
ONE COME ALL
“I need a job, sir,” Annis said, her voice
getting stronger with every syllable.
“I imagine you
do,” he said, nodding at her pitiful appearance. “Imagine you could also do
with a bit of water.” He pulled the canteen he wore strapped over his left
shoulder up over his head and handed it to her. “Go on then, have it,” he
insisted when she didn’t take it. “Only just refilled it, so there’s plenty.”
Annis was torn.
She’d gone without a drink for so long, she hardly remembered what thirst felt
like. Though she knew her body was desperate for fluids, her less rational
thoughts forbade her from accepting such a gift so easily. Kindness aside, he
was a stranger and her trust in people was sparse these days. Everyone had an
agenda. No one gave anything for nothing. Not even water. Not when she so clearly
needed it. It would be too easy to use against her later.
“I’m alright,
thank you,” she said, pushing the canteen away. Maybe the days alone with her
overwrought mind and terrorized thoughts had made her paranoid, but she
couldn’t chance it. Anything she received from here on out, she would earn.
There would be no risk of blackmail or unpaid debts left for someone to collect
on. “I’m not looking for handouts. I want work.”
The man shook his
head, his eyes narrowed as though he were attempting to sort out his own
thoughts about her but was coming up short. “What you need is water. You take it, you see to yourself, and then we’ll
talk about your wants, understood?”
Annis opened her
mouth to argue a second time but was met with a silent warning in the man’s
steely glare she understood she’d do well to heed.
“How much?” she
asked, strength waning from her voice even as she set to strike her own terms for
the exchange. Her mind, ever alert, took note of her body’s evident betrayal
and cursed herself for her weakness. “For the water. How much will it cost?”
She hadn’t a penny to her name, but at least the number would set her debt
before she accumulated it.
“You’ve only just
shown up and you’re already a right pain in my arse, you know that?” the man
said with a snort, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger, a move
she knew all too well from her mother, who had never hesitated to let Annis know
when she was cuing the next migraine with what she called Annis’s insipid
conversations and foolish behavior. “We don’t charge for water here, love. It’s
not the sort of business we’re in. You want to pay me, you come see the show.
I’ll charge you any night of the week for that.”
“But,” her mouth
hung open, her arguments running thin. With little left to counter with, she
ran her tongue over her lower lip, stalling for time. She felt the sandpaper
skin of her own mouth. Her hand went up to touch it, only to find it was not
only rough and cracked, but dry as the desert in the midday sun. Not even her
tongue held moisture anymore. At last, she surrendered to his offer, taking the
canteen and moving it up to her lips without another word.
She drank. Cold
water flooded her throat, awakening everything within, sending an icy rush
through her chest and down to her belly. Gulp after gulp, the liquid moved
through her. Within moments she’d emptied the entire canteen, leaving her more
aware of her thirst than she’d been before even tasting a sip.
The man smiled
oddly at her, reminding Annis of the way she used to peer at baby chicks when
they first hatched out in the hen house. They were awkward and strange looking
at first, but curious and sweet all the same. She couldn’t decide if she took
offense to his expression or not. He took the canteen from her before she came
to a conclusion either way. “We’ll get more. Just let it settle for a moment or
it’ll turn your stomach.”
She nodded,
wiping the spilled water from where it had dribbled down to her chin. “About
the job,” she began again, determined to make a case for herself.
“You ever done
any work like this?” he asked.
She began to say
an adamant yes, but then reconsidered the lie. “I’ve performed.” She tried to
hide her shaking hands by pulling the loose strands of hair away from her face
and back over her shoulder. She regretted the move at once. The man raised his
brows to meet the rim of his blue cap. The line of his mouth pulled in toward
the center and stopped just short of a frown at the sight of her now fully
exposed face, which she knew was likely covered in dirt and blood.
“How old are
you?” he asked, his eyes narrow.
“Twenty, sir,”
she said, swallowing. Though lying had never come easily to her, this wasn’t
the first lie she’d told the man. Somehow the first one had come naturally. The
words just came out of her mouth without forethought. Maybe they were my last
remaining truth, she thought.
At last he
smirked, lifting his brows and straightening his shoulders. “Well, we can
pretend I believe that.” He chuckled softly. “Come along, then.” He gave her a
nod and began to walk past her toward the workers who’d resumed their tasks.
Some of them tended to animals, others flitted about with an abundance of props
and costumes nearly flowing from their grasps as they flew past. The bulk of
the crew carried on setting up the circus tent.
“Wait. Are you
giving me a job?” she asked, almost afraid to believe her good fortune. “You’re
letting me stay? Just like that?”
“It’s the circus,
love. No one comes to stay except me and Babe, but you can come along for the
ride as long as you wish and get off when you’ve had enough.” He glanced back
at her over his shoulder, winking. “You say you’ve performed?”
“Yes. Yes, sir.”
Her stride was half the length of his and her tired legs fought to keep his
pace. “I’ve been a dancer from the time I was four, sir.” He stopped abruptly
and Annis nearly collided with him. He turned to face her.
“Before this goes
any further, we need to clear something up, love,” he said.
Annis braced
herself for his next words. She knew it had been too easy. There would be
strings attached to the job. Her mind began to race through all the despicable
deeds she’d be forced to participate in. Thievery. Fraud. The imaginary list
grew longer as she considered the ways in which one could be forced to collude
in schemes of lawless greed and deceit.
“It’s Hugh,” he
said, catching her completely off guard with the simplicity of his words. “Not
sir. Not mister.” His tone was calm but stern, with a slight emphasis on the
labels he eschewed. “Just Hugh. Or Poppy, when you get comfortable.” He tilted
his head, brows furrowed, but his eyes still twinkled. “Are we clear?”
She nodded. And then
she shook her head. She decided it was likely she was delirious from
exhaustion, delusional from dehydration, and just plain slow from being
starved, but she was also certain that nothing was clear. He was the
ringmaster, was he not? Calling him “sir” seemed more appropriate, given his
role, than simply Hugh or, God forbid, Poppy. “I’m sorry?” was all she could
say.
“That car there,”
he explained, pointing his long, bony finger to where they’d just met. “It’s
got my name on it right along with Babe’s. Not because this is our business but
because it’s our family. Our home.” He hunched down closer to her and spoke more
softly. “We never set out to run a circus, love. We ran away, and the circus
found us. Same as you. Same as everyone you see here. You want to work here,
you’re welcome to any job that needs doing. You’ll have your cut of the night’s
take every show you’re here for, same as everyone else. And we all get an equal
share. Even me. Even Babe. And we don’t get called fussy things like sir. Or mister. Not me. Definitely not Babe.” Annis began to nod her head,
still not fully comprehending this unexpected turn in her newfound salvation
but eager to please in order to keep it.
“Alright, then,”
he said, smiling. “Onward.” He turned, stretching his fist out to lead the way
straight into the nearest huddle of people, who were all working together to
string up the massive tarp of the tent and preparing to mount it over the poles
that were already in place. Annis gaped at the sight of men and women of all
ages and colors, working together as equals, tackling tasks she imagined must
be done in complete unison.
“They’ll just be
a minute,” Hugh said, glancing back and forth between her and the workers,
amusement dancing in his eyes at her state of awe. And though her gaze stayed
with the display before her, her mind engaged in a grand game of ping pong,
thoughts flying back and forth between the men and women at work and the
strange but kind man standing beside her. What must he be thinking of her and
the pitiful state she was in, the obvious lies she had told? He had to have had
some thoughts about those. And, given his clear skills of observation, they
likely weren’t far off. Surely, he’d deduced she was a runaway. He probably
wondered if she was hiding from the law. If so, what did he imagine her guilty
of? Stealing? Most likely. How many crimes could she really have pursued
successfully beyond petty theft? Nothing about her frail and bedraggled body
suggested she was physically capable of causing harm to anything larger than a
garden snake. Or what about arson? Maybe he thought her to be some sort of
firebug. That could even have been the reason he’d let her stay. A knack for
playing with flames would probably come in handy around the circus. Alas, the
longer she entertained the notion, the more she reconsidered what he was truly
looking at when he saw her. Long wispy hair, hardly suitable for being around
open flames. Her pasty, pale skin now bore marks that could only imply a
massacre of sorts had taken place. But even underneath the dried blood and
layers of dirt, the softness of her skin still gave evidence of a girl who,
until quite recently, had never suffered more than a needle prick, let alone a
burn.
More obvious than
anything else, she thought, was her cowardice. The meek way in which she
carried herself, light footed and hesitant in her every move. If she was perfectly
honest with herself, Annis knew no one would ever count her as a scoundrel. She
was running, certainly, but not because she’d sought out trouble. That the
trouble had sought her would be clear to anyone.
She dared a
sideways glance in Hugh’s direction. He was polite enough to pretend not to
notice, even if the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away.
Whatever he thought of her, it couldn’t be all bad. More importantly, she was
starting to think all the bad she’d thought about him, and the likes of those
who found themselves drawn to the circus, couldn’t be all true either. If there
was even a kernel of truth to any of it at all. Her gaze shifted back toward
the scene unfolding before her and she finally registered what Hugh had said.
“Just a minute,”
she echoed his last words dryly, her mind still stuck somewhere between
disbelief and a growing acceptance that anything was possible as she took in
the scene before her. “Who am I to doubt anything?” Annis wondered to herself.
As if on cue, the tent rose from the ground on someone’s count of three and
began to glide smoothly over its skeleton of poles and beams. Within a matter
of moments, the entire structure was secure and Annis was standing in front of
a magnificent display of bright red and yellow stripes. Thick golden trim
marked the seams of the canvas and matching tassels dangled at each point of
the structure. Scarlet flags marked the highest peaks, each flapping in the
breeze.
“Wow,” she
breathed. She hadn’t yet noticed the crowd forming around her, composed of
people eager to meet the newcomer.
“Annis,” Hugh
said. When she didn’t react, he said it a second time. “Annis?”
This time she
registered the sound of her name and her cheeks reddened. “Oh.” Now that she
was facing everyone, she saw just how much the differences between them spanned
the spectrum. Men and women, young and old. Some freakishly tall, others
surprisingly small. Women with short hair. Men with long. Large men. Some made
up of muscle, some not. The only thing they all had in common was that there
was something entirely unexpected in each of them.
Whether he was
unaware of her momentary shock or had expected such a reaction, Hugh never let
on. He simply carried on as though everything were normal. Perhaps such a scene
would be less surprising to young women who had led less sheltered lives.
Nodding to his
left at the person nearest to him, Hugh began, “Annis, this is Babe. She’s the
Bennet of Brooks and Bennet Circus.” Hugh grinned and reached out to embrace a
stout, jolly looking man with a massive beard and long curly, blond hair that
was tied together in a loose, thick braid draped over his shoulder. Babe wore
flowing garments that resembled a dress and reached his ankles. He took Annis’s
hand and curtsied. “Annis, you adorable tulip. I just want to hug and kiss you.
May I?”
“Oh, okay,” Annis
said as Babe squeezed her into a rib-crushing hug that brought her to tears—not
from pain, but from the emotional overwhelm at the display of such affection
from a complete stranger.
“You’ll be safe
here, Tulip,” Babe whispered, cheek pressed to her ear. “Don’t you worry about
a thing. Babe’ll get you washed up and patched up in no time,” he promised in a
voice that sounded neither masculine nor feminine, and which Annis could only
describe as maternal.
She sighed,
melting into the tight embrace, and allowed herself just a moment of peace
before untangling herself from his welcoming arms. “Thank you,” Annis mumbled
as she stepped back.
“I know Babe will
be fussing over you just as soon as she gets you out of here,” Annis heard a
woman’s voice say from somewhere in the center of the crowd that now formed a
nearly complete circle around where she stood. Annis was too focused on Babe
being referred to as she to identify
the speaker right away. When she did, she noticed the woman was older than Hugh
and Babe, with smooth dark skin that reminded Annis of her father’s morning
coffee. The woman wore her black hair in tight twists that snaked the sides of
her head until they met to form a knotted bun. Never had Annis met a woman who
commanded such presence. She spoke in a rough, brash voice, with both hands
fisted and set high on her waist. “When she sets you free, you come find Momma
T. I do all the cookin’ ‘round here, and you, girl, look like you ain’t eaten in
days.”
It was mostly
true. Annis had eaten, though what she’d consumed could barely qualify as food.
“Thank you, ma’a—” She stopped mid-word when Hugh shook his head at her, one
brow arched, indicating she ought to know better by now. “—Momma T,” she corrected
with a meek smile at the woman who, unlike Babe, seemed to house no motherly
bone in her body. Annis thought it was a stretch even to call Momma T friendly,
with her squared shoulders, thin lips, and heavy-lidded eyes.
“Don’t you worry
none,” a chipper voice said from Annis’s lower left. “Momma T’s only scary ‘til
you taste her beans and cornbread.” Annis’s eyes followed her ears until they
landed on a man with messy, walnut-colored hair poking out in all directions
beneath his frayed gray cap. He came up just below her hip, though he looked
slightly older than she was. His sprite-like eyes met hers. He smiled like he
knew exactly what she’d been thinking and had maybe even been waiting for her
to finish her thought before he carried on. “Her food is where she keeps her
heart. You’ll see.” He grinned, reaching his hand out to her. “Name’s Sawyer.
Most folks call me Sawyer Smalls, or Smalls for short.” He paused, his eyes
twinkling with delight at his own joke. “See what I did there?”
Annis nodded,
unsure if it was in good taste to laugh. Instead, she took his hand and shook
it politely. “Annis. It’s lovely to meet you.” His grasp was stronger than
she’d expected.
“Give it a week,”
he said. “Then you’ll know better.” He winked, releasing her hand. This time,
she let out a spontaneous giggle.
“Right, then,”
Hugh chimed in impatiently, placing both hands on his hips and giving a
disapproving glare around the circle, which had lost some of its order due to
the recent introductions. “If I’d known you’d all turn this into a bloody
pre-show production, I’d have just called out everyone’s name in passing and
pointed.” A rash of amused muttering erupted from the crowd, but they obliged
his implied request for order and lined up shoulder to shoulder.
Once they were
settled, he continued. “Alright, we haven’t got all day to do this, so I’ll go
‘round. I’ll say your name and you raise your hand, smile, curtsy, or do a
ruddy headstand, for all I care. Just identify yourself and then let me move it
along.”
He reached his
long arm out and took Annis’s shoulder. “Come stand here, love,” he said,
directing her to an overturned bucket on the ground nearby. “Get up high so you
can see everyone.” Annis did as she was told, and Hugh began rattling off
names. They were claimed, one by one, by someone in the crowd.
“Mabel. Maude.”
There was a brief
interlude for Annis to spot them. She noticed they not only had identical raven
hair and alabaster skin, but also their hips were fused together below the
waist so that one twin was always on the left and the other always on the
right. They wore a garment made from two conjoined dresses that were tailored
for their needs. Both women waved, smiling as they welcomed her.
“Margaret. Oscar.”
A woman and man,
both nearly as round as Hugh was tall, stepped forward ever so slightly, and
the man’s protruding belly bumped into the woman in front of him, making her
laugh as she jumped forward to keep from falling.
“And that there’s
Bess. She’s our tightrope walker. Everyone’s always trying to make her fall,
see. Just for fun, of course. ’Cause it can’t be done,” Hugh said before quickly
continuing his roll call before the crowd lost all order again. By the time he
finished, Annis had met trapeze artists Della and Leo; Homer, who could juggle
anything from plates to balls of fire; Floyd, an albino man in his seventies;
August, who claimed to be the strongest man alive; and Caroline, a red-haired woman
with an unusual capacity to bend and contort herself. Caroline really did do a
headstand to introduce herself, except she’d taken Hugh’s invitation literally
and, once in an inverted position, bent her feet back until she was actually
standing on her own head. Annis met Francis and Will, who did the heavy lifting
for Brooks and Bennet. They were on the run from the authorities for their many
thieving transgressions. Then there was Lila, Etta, and Viola, a lovely singing
trio who were all sisters born to a slave mother and privileged father, both of
whom had been executed for their affair. By the time Hugh stopped spouting off
names, Annis was dizzy from the volume of information, as well as the oddity of
it all.
She was about to
ask if there was a place where she could perhaps get another drink of water and
a brief moment of solitude to gather her wits when Babe said, “Wait! She hasn’t
met Sequoyah. Where is that boy, anyway? Now that I’m thinking about it, I
don’t recall seeing him at all today.” Babe seemed worried as she looked past
the group to scan the valley beyond.
“Something
spooked the horses last night. He took off after them,” said Will, the younger
and burlier of the two tag-along thieves. “He’ll turn up, Babe. Don’t you
worry. He always does.”
Hugh wrapped his
arm over Babe’s shoulders, curling his wrist around her neck and leaning down
to tell her, softly, “He’s right, you know. Sequoyah knows what he’s doing. You
go on and get Annis settled and I’m sure he’ll turn up just as soon as you stop
looking.”
Babe sighed, her
shoulders sagging. “That boy’s going to have his name on my every last worry
line by the time I’m old and wrinkled.” She took another deep breath and shook
loose her broad shoulders. A timid smile returned to her face, restoring the
kindness to it that Annis was already used to from her. Her. The female pronoun for Babe seemed equal parts odd and
appropriate.
“Alright, Tulip.
How about we start with getting you a drink of water? You must be absolutely
parched,” Babe said. She smiled, but Annis noticed her eyes held a dim of worry
as she carried on without so much as expecting a response. “And then let’s see
if we can find the real girl hiding under all of this dirt and distress.” Annis
was tempted to tell her the real girl would never be found, no matter how much
Babe scrubbed the tarnished shell in which she lived now, but she held her
tongue and simply nodded.
Babe glanced over
her shoulder, scanning the stragglers. Will was only just turning away when she
called out to him, “Will, be a dear and fill the tub in my tent, would you?”
Will stopped on a
dime and tipped his head in her direction. “I’m on it, Babe.” He was back in
motion before finishing his sentence and disappeared behind a cluster of circus
equipment Annis couldn’t begin to identify.
While everyone
else went back to work preparing for that night’s show, Annis followed Babe
with shaky steps as her adrenaline released its final surges. Annis’s mind
still lagged from trying to process her new surroundings and the lovely,
strange, extraordinary people who occupied them. She kept her head down as she
walked behind Babe, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the only familiar sight
in her vicinity: the dirt beneath her feet. When they’d arrived at a small tent
that extended out from one of the train’s cars, the swish of fabric drew her
attention back upward. Babe held back a bundle of violet satin that served as a
door and used her free hand to gesture for Annis to step inside.
Inside the tent,
lanterns hung from a multitude of hooks attached to every pole, support beam,
and other available structure in sight. A different colored satin sheet adorned
each wall in a delightful rainbow of deepest plum, light rose, earthy sage, and
cornflower blue. Standing in the center of the tent was a vanity, complete with
a large mirror and basin filled with clear water and fresh wash rags. Beautiful
gowns of silk and lace were strung up from one corner to another like dancing
maidens standing shoulder to shoulder in a fabulous kick line. Annis felt
dreamy as she looked around Babe’s colorful oasis, filled with all the riches
she’d likely collected on her travels. Handmade quilts hung draped over a
rustic wooden bench, strange paintings and sculptures like nothing Annis had
ever seen before were scattered about, some leaning against furniture, some
displayed from hooks nailed into the tent poles. Quiet music hummed in the
background and everywhere her eyes touched she saw color. Babe seemed to have
an affinity for flowers. The small space was littered with vases, small and
large, some luxurious crystal, some no more than an empty can that was once
used for beans. Each one was filled with a different collection of wildflowers,
all at varying stages of their life cycle. While some were freshly picked, with
tight cusps still waiting to bloom, others had long since seen their days of
blossoming and been left to live in glory forever, dried and dead, though still
perfectly intact. Together they all emitted the loveliest potpourri, which
wrapped Annis in the sweetest symphony of scents. However, she was certain she
must really be dreaming, or maybe hallucinating—which was certainly possible,
considering her exhaustion and dehydration— when her gaze landed on a hammock,
in which sat a very large, striped cat. Though she’d never seen one before,
Annis was certain it was a tiger. She had seen many a house cat—and this was no
house cat.
“Magnificent,
isn’t he?” Babe said, admiration shining from her eyes as she looked at the
giant feline. “Can you believe someone thought it wise to keep him chained in a
cage? A beautiful creature like this?” She shook her head and furrowed her
brow.
“He’s not…” Annis
paused, not wanting to say anything offensive to Babe, who had been nothing but
kind despite Annis’s suspicious, sudden arrival and unkempt appearance.
“…Dangerous?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking. Massive though he was, he was
also majestic. He carried a sage wisdom in his aura that left Annis feeling
more drawn to him than fearful.
“Basileus?
Dangerous?” Babe laughed heartily. “Not in the least. I think you’ll find most
creatures, big and small, will respond according to how you treat them. You
show them respect, they’ll respect you in return. You love them, honor them,
care for them, and the loyalty returned to you will abound.”
“Basileus,” Annis
whispered his name, the feel of it on her tongue making her smile. It was
unlike any name she’d heard before. “What does it mean?”
“It’s means
‘king’ in Greek,” Babe answered. “Suits him, don’t you think?”
“Very much,” she
agreed, still unable to take her eyes off the tiger who seemed unperturbed by
their intrusion.
“Of course, you’d
never have known by the sight of him when we first found him,” Babe said,
reminiscing out loud. “His coat was dull and matted with bare spots where the
shackles had rubbed him raw and bloody. Skin and bones, he was. Refused to eat
in the state they kept him in. Hugh wasn’t sure it’d be humane to keep him
going, the way he was. Said he was too far gone. Had given up. But then,” she
paused, touching Annis lightly on the arm to draw her attention. “His eyes.
They told us. He’d seen things. Terrible things. All the worst the world had to
offer…” she trailed off. “But,” she continued, “he was still there. Alive. On
fire. Wild with an unbridled courage, as though he knew they’d done all they
could to him, and he’d survived anyway.”
“He hadn’t given
up,” Annis whispered.
“Never.” Babe
gave her a bittersweet smile. “The wild ones never do.” She began to turn away
but Annis stopped her by touching her arm, grazing ever so lightly with her
fingertips, surprised she’d been bold enough to reach out at all.
“Babe?”
“Yes, Tulip.” It
wasn’t a question. “Your eyes tell it too,” she said.
A warm wave of
gratitude swept through Annis. She knew Babe would never ask to know the worst
of what Annis had seen before finding herself here in this unexpected oasis of
salvation. Annis, who’d spent her first life an invisible bystander, a mere
shadow hidden in the tapestries of life, had come back a girl who could be
seen, a girl whose eyes told stories she hoped her mouth would never have to
repeat. Maybe it would be the death of them, or maybe those stories would live
on, trapped inside her. All she knew for now was that they wouldn’t stop her
from having hope anymore. There would be new life after the old. And in this
one, she would do more than simply serve as a lovely backdrop in someone else’s
story.
“Why don’t you
have a seat right here,” Babe said, indicating with her hand that Annis should
sit at the vanity. “We can start by undoing the mess in your hair while we wait
for Will to finish preparing the tub.” Annis did as she was told while Babe
turned away to fetch the water she had promised.
The vanity chair
was made of a soft, comfortable, purple velvet. Annis struggled to keep her
eyes open. “You just relax and let me take care of things,” Babe said, seeing
Annis’s efforts to stay awake as she placed a full glass in front of her. But
Annis was unable to surrender to her exhaustion, no matter how heavy her lids
or how achy her body. Her mind, still wired for survival, would not allow it.
She clung to
conscious thought but let her eyes rest, dropping their lids halfway. A sliver
of light was all her mind needed to illuminate her rambling trains of thought
about tigers and bearded men in dresses, about sisters whose two bodies lived
as one, about men who were unusually tall and others who were unusually tiny,
about strong men and large men, about women who’d been shunned by society for
being something other than timid or chaste or white. What did those supposed
virtues matter if you could command a crowd? If you could dance across a
tightrope, certain you would never fall? If you could sing or fly or bend
beyond the fear of breaking?
Annis was told
all her life that she had lived in the presence of greatness, of remarkable and
important people. After meeting this band of circus misfits who inspired awe
and wonder wherever they went, however, she questioned affixing such grand
labels to the people she had known before. What had they ever offered the world
besides judgement, snobbery, and division? Rare had a been a kind word, yet
they were all quick to point out differences as unacceptable flaws of inferior
folks. Never once had she witnessed a welcome quite like the one that she’d
received here. A stranger, unannounced with nothing to offer would never have
been invited in by any of those men and women she’d known before. Annis saw
nothing great or remarkable in that.
Mind ablaze with
exciting new truths, her squinting gaze slipped along the lanterns near the
opening of the tent just as Will was lifting the corner of a satin sheet to
poke his scruffy, red-haired head inside.
“Tub’s filled,
Babe. You ready for it?” The sound of his voice brought her mind back into the
present.
“I do believe we
are,” Babe answered, placing a handful of pins onto the vanity in front of
Annis, who reached up to touch her hair.
“You untangled
it?” she asked, combing her fingers through the long, wavy strands. Only this
morning she’d been certain she would have to cut the mass of matted knots from
it.
“We’ll give it a
good wash and it’ll be soft and shiny again in no time,” Babe assured her,
gently squeezing Annis by the shoulders and helping her out of the velvet
chair. “You’ll find a dressing gown just inside there.” Babe oriented Annis’s
shoulders in the direction of the train car attached to the tent. “Give Will a
minute to set everything up in here and then you can come back for your bath.”
Annis started
toward the car to get undressed, then hesitated. “Am I really going to take a
bath with Babe in the tent?” she wondered to herself. “Am I going to let a man
help me wash?” Dress or otherwise, Annis was convinced that underneath it all
he wasn’t really a she at all. He felt like one, though, and maybe that was
enough to accept him as such. As if Babe could sense her concerns, she added,
“I’ll be waiting outside myself. Give me a shout when you’re under the suds and
I’ll be in to help with whatever you need.” Annis nodded, grateful to her. Her.
Babe was a her, whether Annis could form the right thoughts to explain it to
herself or not.
The train car
door, unlike every other part of the tent, was hard and heavy, made of solid
wood with a metal frame. For a moment, Annis struggled to garner the strength
to close it. Her first instinct was to ask for help. Her second, much stronger
impulse denied that instinct. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her fists as
tightly as she could, channeling every last bit of strength she had in her, and
then, with both hands, she pushed, sliding the door back into place. It had
barely shut behind Annis when she heard the squeaking tires of a wagon rolling
into the tent. Then she heard wooden slats sliding over each other in a smooth
motion, followed by a light thump and water splashing. Will was preparing the
bath water.
She closed her
eyes and took a breath, inhaling the scent of lavender and peppermint, both of
which had been freshly picked and placed in small vases on a table near the
door. The car itself was hardly furnished. Aside from the table, there was a
small bench along one side and a makeshift curtain hung across the corner to
create a space for dressing.
As she made her
way to the dressing corner, her feet felt light —not numb or tingly, but as
though the weight of her soul wasn’t fully tethered to her body. Maybe it
hasn’t settled on living over dying just yet, she thought. Or maybe it’s
starting to return after abandoning me in that river. Or maybe it’s detached
itself and will never fully fall back into place. Light footsteps—that’s all
I’m capable of anymore.
She untied the
belt of her coat as she pondered the meaning of her bodily sensations,
surprised that the lightness of her feet concerned her more than the emptiness
of her stomach. Her fingertips slid gingerly over the dress’s buttons, undoing
each as she went until she felt the rough linen begin to glide from her skin
and down her body. Stepping out of the heavy skirt, Annis reached for the
dressing gown suspended from a hook an arm’s length away. The gown was soft
against her, which she relished after the harsh conditions of recent days. She
hung her clothes on the same hook and then, opening the door just a crack, she
checked that Will had left the tent before making her way back inside to take
her bath.
Chapter Three
THE RIDER
After
she emerged from having her bath, Annis’s skin felt smooth and soft except for
the parts now scabbed and calloused by the days spent wandering the wilderness.
Stepping out of Babe’s tent, taking in the sunlight and fresh air, Annis
reveled in her new, fresh self. She now wore a pair of purple trousers, a
flashy red corset, and a short-sleeved white bodice, all freshly laundered and
gifted to her by Babe who’d insisted her previous ensemble was no longer fit
for wearing and thus would not be leaving her car on Annis’s body ever again.
Annis had been more than happy to agree with her in order to shed the last
layers of her past as she prepared to embrace her new future.
More
important than the clothes she wore, though, were her light, wavy locks that
fell loose past her shoulders. Babe, unlike Annis’s mother, had refused to do
more than brush Annis’s blonde hair. Once confined to being pinned snug against
her scalp and curled into perfect ringlets, her hair had been set free by Babe,
who insisted the wind would know best what to do with it. She was right. Now it
shone gold in the sunlight and lifted on the breeze.
Babe
had told her exactly where to find Momma T and a proper meal, and yet Annis
wandered aimlessly, her arms light at her sides and her hair floating out
behind her. She took in all of the circus sights as she walked. To her left was
the train, composed of a mismatched collection of patchwork carts, many pieced
together from scrap metal and reclaimed lumber, then adorned with unexpected
details like stained glass windows and wildly colored doors. Babe had told her
all about the day she and Hugh had acquired the engine (“sheer luck alone,”
she’d said) while she’d been washing Annis’s hair. She’d gone on about how it
put an end to the years they’d spent traveling the country in a horse and
carriage caravan and Annis had soaked herself in the stories much like her
bath, allowing a temporary escape from reality. From the stories Annis learned
Hugh and Babe had continued to add carts based on need and ability, creating a
small but mighty train that had as much character as the passengers themselves.
To
her right, Annis noticed a great deal had changed since her arrival. While
she’d soaked in the suds, everyone else had worked to complete and secure the
circus tent. It was hard to imagine the dazzling tent not standing there an
hour ago, and harder still to believe it would no longer stand there tomorrow.
Making her way around the massive structure, Annis passed by dainty Bess
rehearsing her number on a tightrope rigged only a few feet above the ground.
Bess moved over the rope—backwards and forwards and even jumping in pirouettes—as
gracefully as if she were dancing on solid ground. Annis continued to meander
around camp with her mouth agape, in awe of the gifted group that now
surrounded her. She listened as the three singing sisters all warmed up their
vocal chords, creating a rainbow of sound in which each voice echoed brighter
than the one preceding it.
Then
the sound of many hooves thundering toward her snapped her out of her listening
trance. A herd of at least a half-dozen mustangs ran straight for the tent’s
opening, each one a different color, some painted in two or three. From snowy
white to charcoal black, and every shade of brown, from creamy blonde to warm chestnut,
the rich array coated their stunning muscular bodies in a velvety coat that
shimmered in the sunlight. Their long manes and tails flowed behind them. A
rider atop a pitch-black horse galloped in behind the herd. He used no reins or
saddle.
Annis
broke into a run to catch up with them.
A
wall of thick, hot air hit her as soon as she stepped inside the tent and
reminded her that summer was coming. It seemed odd, the recognition of season,
the return of time. She realized she’d expected to find all had passed faster
in her absence. And she had felt absent, secluded in the woods, in a universe
all to herself. It felt to her as though the world could have elapsed into
another year or another decade entirely. It hadn’t. The earth had spun at the same
speed it always had even though Annis’s experience of time had warped while in
isolation.
Though
the horses had settled in the tent, the dust had not. It tickled her nose,
causing her to sneeze. She froze. The tent wasn’t nearly as empty as Annis had expected
and she wasn’t ready for any more attention today. She noticed Hugh, Will, and
Francis arranging the rows of benches for the audience later that night.
Nearby, Caroline’s bright red hair drew Annis’s attention. She watched as
Caroline bent over backward and curled into a human hoop, through which Homer
tossed knives and caught them as they arced back around to him. In the midst of
all this, no one noticed her sneeze. Annis sighed with relief and continued
deeper into the tent’s interior.
Still
sniffling from the sneeze, Annis twitched her nose back and forth, trying to
help ease the introduction of new scents that seemed to multiply the longer she
stood inside the tent. The sunbaked earth at her feet. Stale popcorn and
sweets. Fresh hay, and an unfamiliar musk she assumed came from the horses, who
now stood at the center of the ring.
Some
pawed at the ground while others paced. One even dropped into the dirt and
rolled around until his white coat turned a dark shade of grey. Its sheer
delight and the carefree ways in which it moved, with complete disregard to
cleanliness or propriety, were contagious and Annis giggled at the sight. She’d
read books about horses from the time she was old enough to read and daydreamed
about meeting one, but she had never been allowed to visit with them, let alone
to learn how to ride, even though her father had kept a stable at the edge of
their property. Only ballet had been deemed an appropriate pastime, according
to Annis’s mother, who’d loathed dirt and animals alike.
The
herd parted down the middle to make a path for the rider, now on his feet. The
young man, with skin tinted red by his ancestors and kissed golden by the sun,
wore his long black tresses braided in some small sections and falling loose in
others, with feathers and beads twisted throughout. Mischief rested on his dark
lips as he took in the herd around him. He took his steps slowly and with great
care to respect the space of each animal he passed. He engaged with each of
them along the way. A tender palm moving down the forehead, a firm pat on the
neck, a scratch above the withers. Quiet whispers and unspoken greetings as he
exchanged small bursts of breath in keeping with the horse’s natural means of
communicating.
Though
she understood the implications of staring at a young man, a young native man,
no less, Annis found it impossible to avert her eyes. Of all the displays of
human talent around her, Annis found the subtle ways in which this man and his
horses communicated the most impressive. A tap at one’s side, Annis noticed,
meant move along. A stroke down another’s muzzle prompted the horse to follow
him. Curiosity goaded her to approach the rider, to enter into the sacred
circle he shared with those mustangs.
“Sequoyah,”
Hugh called out, breaking Annis’s focus from the horses and their rider. She
watched the handsome stranger straighten his stance and peek above the herd
that still surrounded him. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” he said, a quiet laugh
rumbling behind his words.
Hugh
tried to hide a grin. “Just go tell her you’re back, would ya?”
Sequoyah
nodded, still laughing. “Someone really ought to tell her I’m not eight
anymore.”
“It
would break her heart and you know it!” Hugh yelled after him. “Who is she
going to fuss over when she realizes you’re not her little boy anymore?”
Sequoyah didn’t respond but hurried from the tent in search of Babe.
Meanwhile,
the work of setting up benches continued.
“I
don’t know,” Francis muttered just loud enough to be heard, hoisting up a thick
slab of wood and dropping it down onto several stumps to create more seating.
“Babe’s got Annis now. I think someone could let it slip Sequoyah grew up a few
years back. Even if she missed it.”
Will
laughed. “She’d never accept it. Besides, I don’t think Annis is going to need
her all that long. Bit of sleep, and some proper food, I have a feeling we’ll
be seeing a completely different girl come morning.” He nodded at Francis to
pick up the next slab and they bent down in unison. “Might be time to consider
getting Babe a puppy, Hugh.”
“Right,
so Basileus can eat it. Great idea, Will.”
Annis’s
mouth folded into a smile, amused by Hugh’s candor. A puppy and a tiger likely
weren’t the most ideal combination where pets were concerned.
Conscious
of not drawing any unwanted attention, Annis quietly began to tiptoe her way
back toward the opening of the tent when she took note of shuffling feet moving
behind her. Her mind instantly alert, she scanned the area until she saw Floyd,
the elderly man whose pale complexion reminded her of powdered sugar and whose
pink eyes made it hard to look away even as they bore into her.
She
felt suddenly desperate for an escape. He’s harmless, she reminded herself.
Whatever his appearance might have suggested to her, he had done nothing to
deserve her fear or judgement and she did her best to hide every trace of her
discomfort as he approached.
Mustering
a smile, she watched as he came to a standstill before her. He wore a strange
expression. His eyes, though locked on her, were staring straight through her,
as though he could see things others couldn’t. The oddest part was, Annis
thought, the way his mouth barely moved while he muttered under his breath, as
though speaking in tongues. Without saying an audible word to Annis directly,
he took her hand and turned her palm upright. He then stroked it gently with
the rough tips of his fingers and placed a small, black stone at the center of
it. He folded her fingers around it as his pink eyes turned red. Annis felt his
gaze become present.
“For
protection,” he wheezed, struggling for his voice, “so he can’t find you.”
His
attention drifted as quickly as it had come, and his feet resumed their shuffle
away from Annis, who stood frozen by fear. “How had he known?” she wondered to
herself. “He couldn’t have. It simply isn’t possible.”
She
opened her hand to peer down at the stone he’d given her. Part of her wanted to
throw it as far and as hard as she could. The other part wanted to believe it
could offer her what he’d promised. Protection.
She shook her head, letting her hand fall at her side. Her fingers uncurled
until the small stone rolled from her grasp and into the dirt at her feet. It wasn’t
real. The old man was grasping at straws, speculating about her past, probably
like all the others were. Annis closed her eyes and forced her thoughts to
believe the words she was feeding them. She was safe. No one knew. And the old
man was just that, an old man, and likely a senile one, at that.
Annis
gave up all efforts of being quiet as she hurried out of the tent, desperate
for fresh air and the freedom of open sky overhead. Her heart raced in her
chest as dirt and gravel crunched under the soles of her new boots. Even once
outside, she found it hard to breathe. Still, she kept moving aimlessly through
camp, yearning for distance from the encounter with Floyd.
“Whoa,
there! Slow down, girl. You almost missed my tent,” Momma T said as she walked
straight toward Annis, bringing her to an abrupt halt. She wiped her hands
clean on her apron and said, “Cornbread is golden brown and piping hot. Fresh
churned butter will melt the second the two touch. It’ll never taste any better
than it does right now.” When Annis didn’t react, Momma T waved her closer,
taking a few more steps in her direction.
“Girl,
you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, frowning. “Now, I don’t know what
it is that’s got you spooked but I can guarantee you, there ain’t nothin’ in
camp to be scared of. And everythin’ outside of camp is too scared to come in
and find out.” She smirked.
Annis
couldn’t help but grin back at her. She knew Momma T was right. She’d heard the
harsh words people used to describe those who traveled with the circus.
Coldhearted misfits touched in the head. The sort who’d toss you off the train
just as soon as they’d throw you in a lion pen. Now she regretted ever
believing a single one of them because Annis was sure these people had just
kept her from dying in the wilderness, even though she was a complete stranger
to them.
“It’s
just…I don’t think I can be who people think I am,” Annis said.
Momma
T crossed her arms, her brow furrowed in concern. “And who do you think people
believe you to be?”
“Someone
who can be saved,” she whispered, hardly able to bear the words.
Momma
T nodded slowly, her stern mouth growing tender on her rigid face as she
stepped in closer. She draped one arm around Annis’s shoulders, her hand
curling in around Annis’s neck as she tucked her head down to touch their
foreheads together. “I’m gonna tell you a secret. We’re all beyond saving. But
we still found our salvation the second we set foot inside this circus and saw
our broken, battered souls mirrored back to us in every face already inside.
Here, the rest of the world doesn’t get to decide who you are or what you
should be. The tarnished, the shunned, can rise to reach the spotlight and do
so to roaring applause. The very people who would not approve of you, who
foolishly believe they can break you, wind up in awe of you. That’s the power
of the circus. That’s the freedom you find when you no longer allow yourself to
be demeaned or attacked by the small-minded standards of an easily frightened
society. Being saved, being worthy of saving, no longer looks the same.” Her
dark brown eyes rested on Annis’s for a long time. “It’s not us who’s wrong.
It’s you. You’ll see.”
Then
Momma T released Annis from her steady grip and gave her a nudge with one bony
elbow and added, “Come on, cornbread won’t stay warm forever and I have to get
another batch going before showtime.” Annis’s stomach growled as if on cue. She
clutched her belly and turned red with embarrassment.
“Hunger
ain’t nothing to feel shame for,” Momma T said sternly, gesturing for her to
hurry up. “Turning down perfectly good food? Now that’s another story.” Annis
didn’t argue and fell into step beside Momma T as they made their way into the
large emerald colored tent that served as a dining hall. Beyond the massive
green tarp was a makeshift kitchen, complete with serving station. Annis could
hardly believe her eyes as she took it all in.
“It
smells divine,” Annis said, inhaling deeply through her nose and sighing to
exhale. She couldn’t remember the last real food she’d eaten. You don’t tend to
savor things you don’t know are the last you’ll have, she thought, and you
don’t tend to know they’re the last you’ll have until it’s too late.
“It
better smell heavenly,” Momma T said, “because I must have said about a hundred
‘Oh, Lord Jesuses’ when I damn near burned my hand off making it.”
Annis’s
eyes widened and a chuckle rose in her throat. She wondered if she’d ever get
used to hearing the things that came out of Momma T’s mouth. She hoped not.
After
a few spins around her makeshift kitchen, Momma T handed Annis a meal large enough
to feed ten people and sent her to the nearest table in the attached dining
area to begin her feast.
The
space wasn’t big, but it was well utilized, with banquet style tables and
benches lined up in neat rows. Annis counted four in all. She passed the first
table, dragging her fingertips over the surface. The wood was worn smooth. Patches
of emerald paint still clung to the panels in the places Annis imagined the
table saw less wear, down the center mostly, tiny remnants suggesting the
tables once matched the tent. The benches were built in a similar fashion,
mostly thick slabs of wood lined up and bolted down onto thick, solid legs. But
where the tables held small sentiments of green, the benches had once been
painted white.
Annis
walked until she found herself at the center of an otherwise empty dining hall
and took her seat. “Dig in,” Momma T called out, her back already turned as she
headed out to the fire with a fresh batch of cornbread ready to bake. “There’s
plenty more for seconds.”
“Thank
you,” Annis said, still taking in the feast plated before her. Her mouth
watered. She felt overwhelmed by the choice of what to eat first.
“I’d
start with the cornbread.” Annis glanced up at the sound of another voice, one
she recognized.
“Hi,
Sawyer.” She smiled, pleased to have remembered his name.
He
nodded, climbing up onto the bench across from her. “Take a big chunk and swipe
it straight through the beans. You’ll never taste anything better.”
“If
you knew what I’ve been eating recently, you’d know anything would taste
better,” she said, but still took his advice. She wasn’t sorry she did. The
cornbread was perfectly crisp on the outside but soft to the touch. Annis
gripped the small piece with both hands and pulled it apart, a fresh burst of
steam erupting from the wonderfully fluffy inside. Even before she tasted it,
she could smell the sweet scent of honey and corn. Dutifully following Sawyer’s
orders, she took the smaller of two halves and slid it straight through the
beans, watching it soak in all the gravy before carefully guiding the cornbread
back to her mouth. Sweet and savory flavor erupted in waves of comfort inside
her mouth and slowly spread to her entire being. It was absolutely divine.
Sauce
dripped down her chin as she took another bite, and then another, before she
could muster humming a sound of contentment.
Sawyer
grinned. “Told ya.”
“What,
you think this is a full-service establishment now?” Momma T said, placing
another meal on the table for Sawyer.
“If
you’re willing to make it one,” he teased, going straight for his own square of
cornbread. “Thank you, Momma.”
“Yeah,
yeah,” she mumbled under her breath, already on to buttering another pan for
her next batch of cornbread.
Sawyer
leaned in closer so that only Annis could hear and whispered, “Don’t let her
fool ya. She serves everyone that sets foot in here. Trying to help yourself to
something from her kitchen will get you chased outta here with a wooden spoon.”
Then he looked up, over Annis’s shoulder. “Just ask Sequoyah. He knows all
about that,” Sawyer said, and then laughed.
“What’s
that?” Sequoyah asked, walking toward their table. Annis had been oblivious that
he had entered, but she could now feel him move in closer beside her with an
overwhelming sense of awareness. She couldn’t bring herself to look, worried
she’d again be unable to turn her gaze away from him.
“Momma
and her spoon,” Sawyer answered him, chuckling as he picked up his fork and
tucked into his meal with more fervor than one would expect from someone not
much bigger than the pile of food on his plate. Sequoyah laughed. It was a
smooth, deep sound, hearty and unencumbered. The sound was so genuine, so
strangely familiar, and yet so thrillingly new that it made Annis’s stomach
flip with excitement.
“I
never was good at following rules,” he admitted. “That spoon has left a mark
across the back of my hand more than once.” He lowered himself onto the seat
beside Annis and she felt her chest tighten. Then he turned toward her, his
hand outstretched. Even out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smiling
at her. It was enough to flush her skin hot pink. “You must be Annis,” he said,
clearly oblivious to her current condition. She could feel the sweat pooling in
her palms.
“Hi,”
she said at last, moving her head in his direction ever so slightly and running
her hand up and down her thigh to dry it on the cotton of her trousers. “It’s a
pleasure to meet you.” Her gaze inched upward until her eyes met with his as
her palm landed in his waiting grip. She felt his fingers wrap around her hand,
sending a warm tingle down her arm and into the pit of her stomach, filling it
so that she forgot about her hunger.
Mesmerized
by the sheer beauty of his face and the endless kindness spilling from his dark
eyes down onto her, she stared at him. His own gaze never wavered from hers
until Sawyer cleared his throat, erasing the magic of their unspoken moment.
But it had been magic. Annis was as certain of that as she was of the truth that
she understood the instant they had averted their eyes. She and Sequoyah could
never do more than share the magic of that moment. It could never be more than
that. More would only lead to a target on his back. And no one else would die
on her account.
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