House of Mirrors (15 page)

And, as if rain-wet wasn’t gorgeous enough, Jonah had looked even more beautiful completely nude in the lantern light. The curve of his arse, the sight of his legs spread and held high while he offered Rafe his backside… Jesus, Rafe couldn’t see straight when he remembered it.

“Pay attention!” Parinsky’s voice snapped Rafe from his reverie. How long had he been dwelling in fantasy? “I’m trying to tell you I think there’s sabotage afoot. Those Orcully Brothers may be behind some of the so-called accidents that have been happening.”

“I’ll consider that possibility,” Rafe said, striding away from the man, “but right now we’ve got to get on the road.”

Another day of travel lay ahead of them. Treanor hadn’t been able to get them into one of the usual villages because the town commission had decided the show brought riffraff into the area. Rafe had been annoyed and worried when the advanceman told him that they’d have to bypass the hamlet, but now the loss of those performances was a blessing since they’d lost time due to Lancelot’s burial. They could spend two days on the road and make the next setup with time to spare.

Usually Rafe would sit on his perch, drive the horses, and think about nothing in particular. Road time was rest time. But today Rafe’s thoughts weren’t particularly restful. Parinsky was right. Too many coincidences had been happening of late. Lost tools, props, and costumes; the rip in the main top’s canvas; the canceled bookings; the death of the lion—although really, poor old Lancelot had been living on borrowed time since the day of his rescue.

Rafe had grown up in the company of ruthless men. Men in his family pursued wealth and power using a dizzying array of methods, so he tended to see the hand of man when misfortune came to call. But could ruthlessness be in play here? It made sense the Orcullys would want to hurt their revenue, forcing Rafe to sell out to them, but they would need someone on the inside to accomplish their goal. Could one of Rafe’s own people be working on their behalf? He found that impossible to believe.

Thoughts of vague menace made him wish he could hunt for answers. He shifted on the wagon seat and wished Jonah was there to distract him with arguments about Shakespeare or maybe quote some biblical passages and try to puzzle out their meaning. The lad might have left behind the family that had turned its back on him, but its culture still clung to him, giving him that appealing smalltown innocence and fascination with the world. Rafe almost laughed out loud at himself. He currently sounded as corny as any gee-shucks American.

A deep peal of laughter came from two wagons back, followed by a fit of coughing. Jonah was riding with Sam, and Rafe wondered what he’d said to make the big man laugh.

Avoiding Jonah’s companionship would be good in the long run, Rafe reminded himself. In the short run, the sensation plaguing him was reminiscent of the lonely first days in school when he’d been ignored by his older brother. Eventually he’d understood that this was the way school worked and had found his own friends.

A showy figure on horseback drew alongside his wagon and slowed to keep up with the pace of the plodding team. “Pasted the bills in New Buckle,” Treanor said cheerily. “All signs are good for a two-day run.”

Rafe nodded. “Good.”

Treanor touched the edge of the plumed hat he always wore in his role as advanceman and cantered away. Rafe watched him go and wondered if he was off to glower at Dimitri and pretend to flirt with a stony-faced Jamie, or perhaps Treanor would catch some sleep in the back of a jolting swinging wagon. He’d been riding hard for hours.

Rafe yawned and revisited the possibility that someone inside the carnival was trying to damage the show. He couldn’t imagine such a thing. Everyone worked hard—even Parinsky. If Rafe told them he must leave—
when
he told them, rather—perhaps the strange tensions would vanish. But he should wait until closer to the end of the season. If he said something too soon, he’d lose his edge of authority and become a lame duck instead of a good leader.

Rafe shifted on the bench, leaned back, and went into a light doze. He fell into a half dream in which Jonah sat next to him and sang.

When he snapped awake, the voice didn’t stop. Jonah was singing, his voice drifting from the other wagon, and what a sweet, clear voice he had. Rafe held the reins with one hand and palmed his eyes with the other. Perhaps the man was trying to torture him from a few dozen yards away. He could almost hear the taunt:
This is what you’re walking away from.

He stayed wide awake for the rest of the ride.

Chapter Fourteen

“Jamie, could you try to appear a little more terrified?” Jonah suggested to his leading lady in the scene from their adaptation of “The Black Cat.” “Your husband is about to drive an ax into your skull, and you look mildly annoyed.”

All right, so it wasn’t great theater, and he’d condensed Poe’s stories to the point that all symbolism, commentary on human nature, or greater meaning was pretty much lost, but as Rafe had pointed out, it was the Gothic horror people wanted to see. “They’ll think about murder as they walk away and be grateful for their humdrum lives.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Jamie complained, dropping the arm she’d held up to shield herself from her rampaging husband, played with devoted intensity by Dimitri. “I have to rehearse my own act, you know. I’m a star.”

“And this show will take place later in the evening, as we discussed.” Jonah’s patience slipped as they rehashed a familiar argument. “Your dancing dogs are family oriented. This is for adults, a different audience. There will be plenty of time between shows.”

“I’m not paid enough for this extra work, and it’s beneath me. I’m a skilled performer,” the artiste complained.

“Good God,” Mindy exploded. “All you have to do is stand there for a few minutes and keep your big yap shut. How hard is that?”

Jonah held up his hands, preventing an escalation of his players’ animosity. The two women were oil and water. “All right. I think we’ve rehearsed enough. You all know what you need to do.” He turned to Sam. “And the lights are ready?”

Sam was stretched to his full height, adjusting a kerosene lantern with a hood to direct the beam. “It’ll look good at night. One light will be on you while you tell the story, then it’ll go dark while the curtain opens, and then another light will shine on the scene.” Sam drew the curtains closed.

“You have a real eye for staging,” Jonah complimented him. For the most part, it had been Sam who’d posed the performers after Jonah explained each scene.

“It’s been fun, and I’m glad to have something to do besides stand around and be tall.”

“Good job, Talbot. I think this show’ll bring in some real money,” Mindy said before leaving. The simple statement coming from a woman who didn’t give compliments lightly meant a lot to Jonah.

The rest of the performers left the freak tent, most of which was now given over to the “Poe Exposition,” and headed for the dining tent. After lunch it would be time to open the doors and let in their first customers of the afternoon.

When Jonah glimpsed Rafe from a distance, his heart jogged with an erratic cadence. He wished he had better control over his emotions, but he seemed to be the very definition of “wearing his heart on his sleeve.” He felt for Rafe much more deeply than he ever had for Ezekiel Burns. Having someone to compare Burns with made all the difference. Jonah could see now how shallow the man had been, how he’d taken much and given little back—pleasure, yes, but nothing of substance.

Whereas with Rafe… There was more than a physical bond between them—if only Rafe would admit it. Even their arguments and discussions were passionate. They talked about books and plays, and Rafe shared stories of his experiences on the road. Jonah could confide his thoughts to Rafe, knowing they would be heard without judgment. All these things added up to friendship, in Jonah’s estimation. Sex aside, he’d be happy to simply continue spending time with Rafe, but the man always kept a thin wall between them. Sometimes this separation was more like a curtain through which Jonah could see moving shadows on the other side, but he could never break through.

Rafe still refused to talk about what had driven him to America. He shared inconsequential stories about himself, but never anything serious. And if Jonah probed for more or showed too much affection, Rafe got prickly and disappeared like a cat that hated being petted.

Still, Jonah felt certain all of his lover’s secrets would be revealed with time, and he was determined to devote as much time as it took to unravel the mystery of Rafe Grimstone.

Sam bumped Jonah’s shoulder, nearly knocking him off his feet. “If you’re trying to keep your secret, you’d best not stare at the man.”

“What?” Jonah’s gaze swept up to his new friend’s face, his heart thundering. “What do you mean?”

Sam nodded toward the ringmaster. “Grimstone. It’s all right that I know…and Mindy…and the Fishers. Probably Parinsky too, ’cause you can’t get anything by him. I say it takes all sorts in this world, and who’m I to judge if a man takes a shine to another man. But there are some around here who ain’t so large-minded. All I’m sayin’ is, don’t lay your eyes on him and melt like butter on a hot griddle.”

Jonah’s tongue felt literally tied as he realized how impossible it was to keep a private life in this close community and expect it wouldn’t be uncovered. Rafe had been right to be so worried. Jonah didn’t reply to Sam or look at Rafe again while he and Sam got their plates of grits with sad little islands of ham floating in the gravy.

“Your family lives somewhere around here, don’t they, Sam?” Mindy asked after they’d sat at the table.

“A couple of mountains away.”

“You planning on going to see them?” Jonah asked. He pushed at the grits, his stomach still tight with tension from Sam’s revelation that he’d seen Jonah’s infatuation.

“Would you see yours if we happened to set up nearby?” Sam lifted an eyebrow.

Jonah got the message. He wasn’t the only one for whom this carnival was a refuge.

“Must be strange growing up in one place.” Mindy speared a bit of ham and swirled it through the gravy. “I’ve spent my whole life on the road. I couldn’t imagine putting down roots so deep they couldn’t be pulled up again.”

“You got roots of your own here in this show,” Sam said. “Couldn’t chop ’em loose with an ax. The carnival is your one place.”

“But things change, don’t they? This can’t go on forever.” Her melancholy was thicker than the gravy on their plates.

Jonah looked away, giving her privacy. Mindy with tears glistening in her eyes was a sight as unnatural as his father drinking liquor would have been.

Sam reached a large hand across the table to cover Mindy’s. “We’ll be okay. Carnival’s weathered tough times before back in your daddy’s day, hasn’t it?”

“Sure. A windstorm in ’97 nearly did us in.” Mindy removed her hand from beneath his and picked up her fork.

Jonah so deeply felt Sam’s desire to have Mindy take his hand that his own chest ached. That’s what life was about. Moments of grasping for companionship or love, and hoping against hope someone would be there to take your hand. Finding your “one place” in the world you could call home.

The “Signortoris” walked past, Henry’s arm around Ellen’s shoulders. He called out, “Man your stations, me hearties. Ship’s about to set sail.”

“Nautical terms, Signor Signortori?” Jonah called back. “Are you feeling a sea change? Thinking of switching your identity?”

“Nonsense,” Ellen replied. “‘The Signortoris’ have served us well for ten years. We’re not about to throw away a good thing. Henry’s just playacting.”

“I don’t know, my dove. Pirate lord and captive maiden tied to the mast. Knives flying. Perhaps a duel with scimitars flashing between the acrobats, or spinning plates on the point of a blade. It could be very exciting. Maybe something new is exactly what we need.”

Ellen pulled away from her husband’s arm and faced him with flashing eyes. “Are you saying you’re bored? Am I not enough for you anymore? Go, find your exciting new thing if I’m such a chain around your neck…”

Their bickering voices faded as they walked away.

“Now
that
would be exhausting.” Claudia nodded toward the Fishers as she moved past the table like a ship with a very generous prow. “Reason one hundred and one why I’m glad to be a single gal. Coming, Sam?”

“Guess so.” The giant rose and followed her.

Jonah glanced at Mindy. They didn’t have much to talk about when it was just the pair of them. He wanted to tell her she was a fool to pass up a great guy like Sam just because he was ungainly. But Mindy couldn’t pretend to have emotions she didn’t feel.

It occurred to him that maybe he’d imagined Rafe had emotions for him that simply weren’t there. Rafe had been honest and told him their interactions were simple release and shared pleasure, but Jonah had refused to believe him and spun fantasies. Perhaps he should start taking Rafe’s words as gospel.

Jonah sighed, gave up on the ham and grits, and went to scrape his plate and plunk it in the bin. He was glad he wasn’t the one washing stacks of greasy plates and chipped cups in lukewarm water. One thing he missed about home was running water pumped straight from the ground. He hadn’t scrubbed clean in a full, hot bath since leaving home. But a little soil on the skin and slightly greasy hair was better than feeling soul-deep filthy as his parents had made him feel.

“Talbot.” The bark of Rafe’s voice calling him was like a hand reaching down his gullet and pulling his heart into his throat.

“Yes, sir.” He trotted over to the manager like any other employee obediently receiving orders.

“Ready for tonight?” Dark eyes pierced his, and full lips smiled. The black mustache and goatee framed that sensuous mouth, drawing all of Jonah’s attention to it.

He swallowed to combat his rising hunger and concentrated on Rafe’s words. The show. Yes, he cared about that too. “If everyone turns up on time.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve done.” Rafe had not stopped by the rehearsals, giving Jonah the liberty of running his show any way he saw fit.