In Search of a Memory (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (7 page)

“You’re not planning on eloping, too, I hope?” Cassie teased, setting Angel’s large case next to a small, mirrored dressing table. “Seems I just get a bunk mate broken in, and she leaves.”

Memory of Mr. Mahoney’s stern caution to her and the handsome rogue rescuer flashed across Angel’s mind. That made two people in the span of ten minutes suggesting she might elope.

“I never plan to marry.”

At her declaration, Cassie lifted one perfectly arched sable brow. “A pretty thing like you? Is that what you’re running from, honey? An unwanted engagement?”

Angel stared back in shock at her accurate guess. “Running?”

“Nobody joins a carnival unless they’re running from something or they were born into it, like me.” She gave a bright smile. “I’m part of ‘The Magnificent Death-Defying Hollars.’ ” She quoted the words painted on her railcar. “An act my parents started long before I came into the world. You might have heard of us?”

“No, sorry. I never went to carnivals as a child—that is, not that I can remember.”

“Really?” Cassie looked at her as if she were a strange new bug. “Hmm.”

“You’ve been with this carnival your entire life?”

“A good portion of it. My parents were part of a circus before the owners mismanaged it, and we came here.”

Cassie’s explanation led Angel to hope. “Then you know the sideshow acts?”

The pert blond laughed. “Honey, I’m well acquainted with all the carnies and showmen. From the vendor selling peanuts and pretzels, to the roustabouts, to the trainer of fleas.” She blushed, making Angel wonder.

“Does a bearded lady work here?” Her question came out in a hopeful rush.

“A bearded lady?” Cassie tensed. “That’s a rather odd question. You looking for one in particular?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. She goes by the name of Lila. I’m…” She wondered how much to reveal and decided to be forthcoming. “I’m a relation.”

Cassie regarded her with surprise. “Really?”

She didn’t know it would be so difficult to say: “I’m… her daughter.” The daughter she abandoned and wanted nothing to do with. Not for the first time, Angel wondered what compelled her to hope her mother’s viewpoint might have changed.

“Her daughter,” Cassie repeated softly, looking Angel over with curious shock before turning to the dressing table. Clearly she was amazed that Angel could descend from a woman with such an obvious flaw. Cassie sank to the stool. “I hate to disappoint you.” She slipped off her feathered tiara, took a jar, opened it, and applied white cream to her thickly painted face. “No one like that works here now.”

“Then she did before?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She moved her lower jaw to the side as she spoke, applying the cream, intent on her task.

Angel’s expectations crumbled. “Perhaps she worked here years ago? I would have been with her. Fifteen or sixteen years ago maybe? I was only two, or three… I think. But she might have come back to join the carnival, though I’m not sure when. Maybe you might have seen her at some point these past few years?” Another ember of hope sparked. “Maybe she even told someone where she was going?”

Cassie busily set to work wiping off the cream with a cloth. “Sorry. I was just a little girl all those years ago. As for recently… sorry.” She shrugged and set down the soiled cloth. “Other carnivals travel through the New England area, too. Maybe she’s with one of them.”

Devoid of the bold cosmetics, Cassie looked a great deal younger than Angel had first speculated, close to her own age. Maybe she really was too young to remember Angel’s mother. Cassie swiveled around on the stool.

“Aw, don’t look so glum.” She smiled. “If it’s meant to happen, you’ll find her. That’s what Mama Philena says. If things are meant to happen, they will. You’ll meet Mama tomorrow. She was a gypsy fortune-teller when the carnival first started but gave that up several years ago and has become a helper wherever she’s needed and a mother to us all.”

She delicately slapped her palms to her thighs, seeming nervous. Angel assumed Cassie also felt unsure around her new bunk mate. “Now, let me fill you in on the goings-on of Mahoney’s Traveling Carnival and who and what you’ll find here.” Cassie stepped behind a half screen beside the rack of costumes. All the while she spoke of the “family,” rustles and bumps came from the opposite side. Her head popped up now and then, followed by one shiny article of clothing after another, slung across the top of the screen. Her white hand appeared and fluttered to reach and pull a distant garment from a hanger. Angel stepped forward and grabbed the cotton wrapper, handing it to her.

“Thanks.” Cassie soon stepped out, tying the wrapper around her waist. She ran a brush through her hair, the curls just touching her shoulders. “Most of us retire early, once the customers have gone home and chores are done. We rise before dawn. It’s fun working in a carnival, but a lot of hard work goes into it to make it as entertaining as can be.”

Not wanting to make any mistakes her first night there, Angel followed Cassie’s example and changed into her bed gown behind the screen. She brushed her teeth and hair then regarded the bunks with uncertainty. Cassie set down the brush and looked in the mirror at Angel’s image.

“Yours is the lower one. I prefer the top. Helps me keep in shape for my act.”

To Angel’s astonishment, Cassie swished around, jumped up, and darted toward the cots. She leaped upward like a gazelle, using her hand as a brace, her body forming a graceful sideways arc as she landed with ease atop her mattress, light as a feather. She grinned down at Angel, who gaped at her. “I know. I’m a hopeless show-off. It’s just in the performer’s blood, I suppose, and both my parents are Class A acts. Do turn down the lamp, won’t you?” She breezed her long, slender body beneath the blanket and laid her head on the pillow. “Good night, Angel. Don’t let the train bugs bite.”

Angel chuckled and doused the light. She liked her bunk mate and hoped they might become good friends. Maybe she could find happiness here… and peace.

“You can’t find peace in the world, child, till you find peace in your heart.”

Nettie’s words of wisdom drifted into her mind. She still didn’t understand how her friend could believe in an all-loving and caring God, with so much suffering going on in the world. Still, it was Nettie’s wise words, some of them verses from her Bible, that Angel had found herself clinging to on the difficult days. The only thing she regretted about her hasty flight was not saying good-bye to her dear friend.

Standing alone inside the huge tent, Roland stared with dismay at the stalls of animals, wondering how his life had come to this.

Before him stood four beautiful grays, though they were not his problem. Their owner had just made it very clear he or his family would tend to all care of the champion horses. Three black ponies, assorted barnyard animals, and a baby elephant completed the unusual menagerie—all of them in his charge.

“Is this a circus or a carnival?” Roland directed his question to the wrinkled gray beast that stood almost as tall as he did. How in the world did one take care of a baby elephant?

“At least you know there’s a difference,” came a jovial voice from behind. “That’s a start. Not everyone outside the carnival world does.”

Roland turned to see a short, barrel-chested man with a thin, waxed mustache and an infectious grin head his way. “I’ve been to both,” Roland admitted.

“Impress me.”

At the friendly challenge Roland took a guess. “A circus contains a variety of acts performed under a huge tent known as the big top. A carnival is a series of rides, games of chance, and sideshows along a midway, many of them rigged and containing acts of a far more sinister nature than anything one would find at a circus.”

The newcomer raised his brows, not acting insulted by Roland’s straightforward explanation that made clear this wasn’t his first choice as a place to be. He’d had enough of
sinister
to last a lifetime.

“Okay, so I’m impressed.” The man extended his hand, and Roland shook it. “You must be the new carny Mahoney hired. Pleased to meetcha. The name’s Chester.”

“Roland.” He purposely left off his surname, relieved that Chester did as well, which prevented the need for excuses as to the omission.

“Nice to have you aboard, Roland. Mahoney told me you’ll be sharing my car. My last bunk mate eloped with one of the ticket girls. It was his job Mahoney gave you.”

“I’m overjoyed,” Roland said in a monotone.

Chester laughed. “Aw, it’s not so bad. Jenny here is docile as a lamb and easy to take care of, aren’t you, girl?” He reached out and smoothed his hand over the elephant’s coarse trunk. Jenny curled it in a gray U, aiming her snout toward Chester. “You know me too well. And you’re getting downright spoiled, little lady.” He rolled his eyes when Jenny made a soft trumpeting noise. “All right then, find the peanut.” The end of her trunk pressed over his shirtfront then into the side of his jacket, slipping into a pocket. She fished the peanut out, with her trunk tip curled around the morsel, and brought it to her mouth.

“Cute trick.”

Chester eyed Roland’s own suit. “That’s some sharp duds you got there.” He quirked his brow. “Just why did you say you needed the work?”

“I didn’t.” Roland took no offense at his genial probing. If he were in Chester’s shoes and a stranger showed up to work at a carnival wearing an expensively tailored suit, he’d wonder, too. “Long story,” he hedged. “I’d rather not go into it.”

“There’s a number of those up and down the midway. Most of them hard-luck stories, with a number of us carnies hiding pasts we’d like to forget. Some shady, some not so much. You’re right about your description of carnivals, though this one is private owned and also has shows and games acceptable for the kiddos. I’ll give you the lowdown on what to avoid. For the most part, the performers and other carnies are a good bunch; you’ll know soon enough who’s a shyster. Isn’t that right, Jenny?” He stroked her gray wrinkled head.

“Is Jenny part of your act?”

“
My
act?” Chester laughed. “No. Jenny here is a recent addition Mahoney & Pearson acquired. Her owner’s an Arab kid. Doesn’t speak good English, but he’s nice enough. One of the circuses split up a few years back, and some of the acts signed on here.” He patted the elephant high on the trunk again. “Me, I deal in the tiniest of critters in the animal kingdom, if you could call it that. I own a flea circus.”

“Fleas?” Roland repeated in surprise. “You mean real, jumping fleas?”

“Don’t use nothin’ else, only mine don’t jump. I heard of flea circuses that use tricks with magnets and the like, but my fleas are real enough. Nothing rigged going on in my tent. Come by sometime, and I’ll give you a free show.” He grinned. “You’re not asking, but I see the question in your eyes: Why fleas? Well, it’s like this: I like things small, in detail, and I like insects. My grandfather, he owned a flea circus at the turn of the century and taught me all he knew. But not to worry. Taking care of my fleas won’t be on your list of duties,” he joked.

“That’s a relief. I may know the difference between a carnival and a circus, but to be blunt, I know little about taking care of animals—though the horse owner came in here a few minutes before you did and informed me to keep away from his.”

Chester nodded. “Stan Hollar. Very particular about his property and who comes in contact with it. Those beautiful grays are Andalusians, some of the best horses you can find, and one of the top acts the carnival can boast. A member of the family checks in a few times a day, usually Cassie. I guess you could say Mahoney & Pearson counted themselves lucky when the Hollars signed on. They’re one of the star attractions of the carnival.” The wistful note to his voice led Roland to believe Mahoney wasn’t the only one counting himself lucky.

“You about finished here?” Chester asked.

“I have no idea where to start. Mahoney just said to bed the animals down for the night.”

“I grew up on a farm, so I’ll give you a hand. Mama Philena usually comes to help out. Been with the carnival over thirty years. Mahoney’s mama and like a mama to us all. She’ll turn up eventually and show you the ropes.”

Roland worked alongside Chester, grateful for the man’s help and company. He didn’t have friends or, rather, those associates he would call friends: men and women who were honest, loyal, and honorable. Most of the moral class, once they learned his name, assumed his family reputation went along with the label, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Rather than destroy a possible friendship before it had a chance to build, Roland chose to keep silent about his identity. Angel knew, but he didn’t think he’d have a problem convincing her not to share what she’d discovered.