Miraculum

by Steph Post

  “I’m going to let you fellas in on a little secret.”

  Otis leaned forward over his cane conspiratorially and the men in the crowd leaned forward as well.

  “The secret is this, boys. I’ve been doing this for a long time. I’ve seen a lot of girls in my day. Let me tell you, a lot of girls.”

  January kept her smile going while Otis drew in the tip. Some of the men already had their mouths open, tongues near hanging out, and this was only the ballyhoo. It was going to be an easy night, for sure.

  “A lot of girls that could do a lot of different things. But here’s the God’s honest truth, gentlemen. In all my travels, even in King Scheherazade’s harem, not once have I ever set eyes on a woman who can top Cherry over here. Cross my heart, God’s honest truth.”

  Otis glanced over at January and she smiled at him and winked back, signaling for him to call it already and get her the hell off the bally. Otis pointed his cane out into the crowd at a few of the men he had already marked.

  “Now don’t forget, boys, the next show with our Cherry here starts at seven. Don’t miss out!”

  January gave the crowd a last smile and then slowly closed and tied her robe shut. The men dispersed and Otis helped January down the rickety bally steps. She rolled her eyes at him once her feet hit the dirt.

  “King Scheherazade? Really?”

  Otis took off his straw hat and mopped the sweat from his bald head with a ratty handkerchief. He grinned at her.

  “Well, it sounded good, right?”

  January put her hand on Otis’s broad, lumpy shoulder.

  “Scheherazade was a woman, Otis. She told the stories to the Arabian king to keep from getting her head chopped off.”

  Otis stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket.

  “Oh, right, right. Think anyone noticed?”

  January was already making her way around the back of the cootch tent to smoke, but she called over her shoulder to Otis.

  “Don’t think so.”

  She lit a cigarette and pitched the match into the dirt. Baton Rouge was a red crowd, but Pontilliar still liked to run it clean until evening. That meant doing light shows up until seven, when the afternoon big top performance let out and the Star Light really swung into gear. January left the kiddie acts to Wanda and stayed with working the bally. Once night fell, she’d be doing back-to-back sets with blow-offs until closing, so she wasn’t worried about losing out on the few extra coins tossed on the day shows. The new girl could have them.

  January leaned against one of the tent poles and out of the corner of her eye she could see him watching her. Not gawking, not even curious, but just standing in his dark suit, with his hands in his pockets, looking in her direction. January flicked her cigarette and called out to him.

  “You don’t got to stand over there, you know. You can come on by and say hi.”

  Daniel nodded to her and slowly made his way over. January had forgotten how dazzling his smile was.

  “I didn’t realize before that our tents are set up next to one another.”

  January smiled back at him.

  “Pontilliar likes to have the tents set up in a way that will draw the rubes around the midway. I think it’s his idea that the blood from the geek show gets the boys excited and so they’ll spend more when they come on over to me. Or maybe he’s just trying to keep us away from the families lined up for the big top. Who knows.”

  “Who knows, indeed. I was going to offer you a light and a cigarette, but I see you already have one. Do you mind?”

  He took a silver cigarette case out of his pocket and held it up. January shook her head.

  “No, please, go ahead.”

  She watched with interest as he opened the case and took out a cigarette. The inside of the case was blood red and when he snapped it shut, she noticed that the outside of it was intricately engraved. When Daniel took out his lighter, January’s eyes widened. He lit the cigarette between his lips and was about to put the lighter away when January reached out, almost touching his sleeve to stop him.

  “Can I see it?”

  “This?”

  Daniel held up the lighter and January nodded.

  “Of course.”

  He handed it to January and she took it greedily, turning it over in her hands. It was silver like the case, but inlaid with a green stone circled by diamonds. January could hardly believe her eyes. Diamonds on a lighter, for Christ’s sake. She tried to act nonchalant as she handed it back to Daniel.

  “What’s the green stone?”

  Daniel took the lighter and put it back in his pocket.

  “Jade. Do you like it?”

  January nodded.

  “It’s a Dunhill, right?”

  “It is. How do you know that?”

  January grinned at him.

  “I’ve seen it in magazines. I mean, not that one exactly, but ones like it. I can’t even imagine how much it cost. Makes me dizzy just thinking about it. Was it a gift?”

  Daniel patted his pocket and smiled at her.

  “No. I just picked it up in New York when I was last there.”

  January couldn’t help herself.

  “New York? Are you serious? You were in New York City? Did you live there? What’s it like?”

  January felt foolish asking, but what did it matter? Daniel already knew she had never been there herself. There was no point in acting like she was something she was not with him. Daniel raised his eyebrows, but his smile seemed genuine, if amused.

  “It’s thrilling. So many lights. So many interesting, delightful people. They’re everywhere.”

  “Did you ever meet anyone famous?”

  Daniel shrugged.

  “I did have dinner with Marion Davies and William Hearst at Delmonico’s last year.”

  January was breathless.

  “Marion Davies?”

  “She was lovely. Truly lovely. And stunning. In many ways, you look just like her. But I’m sure you hear that all the time.”

  January rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. She shook her head, still in amazement.

  “No. I mean, yeah, the fellas say that sometimes, but it’s not true. Marion Davies, I mean, she’s just spectacular. I got all her pictures from Photoplay and Screenland cut out and pasted up in the wagon.”

  January suddenly realized how dumb she must sound, and she tossed her cigarette to the dirt and ground it out with the toe of her shoe. She was blushing and didn’t want Daniel to see her face. With her head still down, she pulled her robe tighter and crossed her arms. When she finally glanced up at Daniel, he had his head tilted and was giving her an odd look. He raised a finger to his lips.

  “You know, the resemblance is actually quite remarkable. Especially when you stand just like that.”

  Daniel reached out and lightly touched one of the waves in her hair. January wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, but she didn’t want to back away from him either. Daniel quickly put his hand in his pocket and dipped his chin.

  “If you have just a moment longer, I’d like to give you something. Can you wait right here?”

  January began to shrug her shoulders, but Daniel was already heading back toward the geek wagon. She could hear Otis calling the bally for Darlene now, claiming that she was a captured Indian princess and in possession of the wild secrets of love. January rolled her eyes. She lit and smoked another cigarette, trying to decide if it was worth waiting around for Daniel and having to listen Otis go on and on about Darlene. She stamped out the second cigarette and was just about to duck inside the tent to check her makeup when Daniel came around the corner with his hands behind his back.

  “Thank you for waiting. It took me longer than I thought it would to find this. Close your eyes.”

  January pursed her lips, but Daniel was insistent and she finally closed her eyes and held out her hands.

  “I thought you should have this. Considering how much the two of you are alike.”

  January
opened her eyes when the fabric touched her fingers. It was a scarf, and when January held it up, she could see that it was pale blue silk, hand-painted with a design of birds and flowers. Tiny glass beads were embroidered around the edges. January looked up at Daniel with wonder.

  “It’s so beautiful.”

  Daniel nodded once.

  “I drove Marion and William back to their hotel after dinner and she left it in my car. I sent her a note about it, but she told me to keep it. As a thank you for a lovely evening. It’s yours now.”

  January fingered the silk, not knowing what to say. Her voice was timid.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Marion was one of the finest women I’ve ever had the pleasure to dine with. She’s full of grace and kindness. Just as you are.”

  Daniel put his finger under January’s chin and raised it so she was looking at him. He winked at her and then abruptly turned on his heel. She held the scarf up to her face as she watched him disappear inside the geek tent. It wasn’t until later in the night that she realized she hadn’t even thanked him.

  One of the snakes was sick. Yellow Snake. Ruby didn’t give them real names. Why would she? They weren’t pets; they were props. Ten years ago, when the Star Light had a true circus going on under the big top, the entire outfit had felt like a menagerie. The trained animals were more famous and received higher billing than their human counterparts. The star elephants Rosie and Fanny. Dolores, the Fire-Leaping Tiger. Wilson, the Pig Prodigy. Sarah, one of the chimps, would eat dinner alongside the performers in the cookhouse tent. She was considered family by many, though Ruby hadn’t cared for her much. Once, a reporter from the Jackson Daily Harald came down to the lot to do a special feature on the animals. He’d cornered Ruby between two tents, determined to ask the Snake Charmer all of the names of her various snakes to prove that even the reptiles were the stars of the show. Ruby had shrugged. Black Snake. Brown Snake. Striped Snake. Skinny Snake. Snake with the Crooked Tail. The reporter had not been impressed.

  Ruby lit a cigarette and rubbed her forehead. The brass bracelets stacked all down her arm jangled, irritating her. Yellow Snake was sick. Or dying. Something. It wouldn’t keep its head up, wouldn’t flick its tongue. She’d had to cut the last set short because it had only hung limp around her neck like a chain. Ruby took a drag of her cigarette and leaned against the back of the snake tent, the pole digging into her shoulder blades. She only had about ten minutes between sets. Just enough time for Jasper to draw and close the tip. Ruby couldn’t stop thinking about the snake, though. The lot they were set up on was next to an overgrown field and beyond that was the tree line. She’d have to take the snake out to the woods tomorrow and set it free. She didn’t know anything about healing snakes. She just figured that if it was dying, it’d rather do so outside, where it belonged, and not in a wooden box in the back of a tent.

  Ruby was about to grind out her cigarette on the heel of her sandal when she saw them. Just a flash between the management wagon and the cookhouse, but they were together. She heard January’s laughter and shrunk back into the shadows behind the tent. Ruby crouched down and steadied herself with a hand in the dirt, watching. She could hear the crowd of people filing into the snake tent and she knew she’d get the whistle from Jasper any second. She waited, staring out into the darkness, but there was nothing. And then.

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t know about that.”

  January laughed again, her voice tinkling the way it did when she was flirting with someone. Ruby knew exactly the look January must have on her face. The arched eyebrow. Lips puckered into a slight pout as her hand deliberately led the eye by fingering the straps on her dress. Ruby listened and then another voice came out of the night. This one low, purring. It was a man’s voice, but she couldn’t make out anything he was saying. She heard Jasper’s whistle from inside the tent, but ignored it.

  Then she saw them again, heading back toward the midway. It was almost too dark to see them, but they were lit up from behind by the low light from the cookhouse and there was no mistaking their silhouettes. January’s hair, perfectly coiffed into finger waves, and her short kimono. The way her hands moved like a dancer’s. And the person beside her had to be the geek. Tall and thin. His tailored suit making his figure aquiline against the light. No one else could cut a shape like that. As she watched, January reached out and rested her hand on the geek’s shoulder. Gave him a playful push. She laughed again. The geek bent his head toward January, but said nothing. Or if he did, Ruby couldn’t make it out. They disappeared behind the Illusionist’s wagon and were gone.

  Ruby continued to stare out into the empty space where she had just seen them until Jasper poked his head through the back tent flap and asked her what the hell she was doing. She stood up, but didn’t look back at him.

  “None of your goddamn business.”

  Ruby had come down from the mountain like a wild child. Her hair was long and matted into ropes and her face and arms were brown. She had carried a knapsack containing only a circus playbill, a catch of pelts tightly rolled and a Barlow knife sharp enough to split hairs. The playbill was black and white and faded, worn soft along the creases. It depicted a cameo of a woman on the back of a leaping horse. Serious, arms raised triumphantly, streamers billowing out behind her. The scroll beneath the horse’s painted hooves read: “Pontilliar’s GRAND EQUESTRIAN SHOW!” And lower, in curling script: “Come See The BEAUTIFUL And ASTONISHING Horse Lady Of Pontilliar’s WORLD FAMOUS Star Light Company!” The woman on the back of the horse was indeed beautiful. The woman was Ruby’s mother.

  For two years, Ruby chased the Star Light. She never stayed in one place long, picking cotton in work camps or helping with washing in the small towns as she journeyed farther and farther away from the mountains. If asked, she lied about her name, her age, her parents. After two terrifying encounters, one she almost didn’t get away from, she lied about her sex. She stole a pair of boy’s breeches off a line and cut her hair sharply with the knife. This kept her from domestic work, but also kept her relatively safe. At every new town or camp, she took out the playbill and showed it to anyone who would look.

  Some would point north, saying they heard the show had once gone through Charlotte or Rock Hill. Others shook their heads and frowned. No, it never came up this far. You had to go down to Augusta, or maybe all the way over to Charleston, if you wanted to see a circus that big. Men argued on the sloping front porches of stores about which shows they had seen go through which towns ten years back. The Great Ferari Brothers. Gaskill’s. Crane’s Variety. Minstrel Show. Wild West Show. Diving Exposition. Jubilee. All Girl Revue. No one could agree, no one could remember for sure where they’d been or what they’d seen. A preacher tried to take the playbill from her and baptize her on the spot for carrying it. She crept back in the night and stole everything she could from his church.

  Eventually, Ruby made it to Macon and set out to wait for a show to come through. She put a dress back on and kept house for a nearly blind woman who had forty-two cats and could only pay Ruby with leftovers from her own table. The woman lived in what was left of a burned-out plantation house four miles from the edge of town. The back of the house, where there had once been a library, was open to the elements and Ruby would spend hours in the dusty sunlight, leafing through books ruined by age and weather and animals.

  When a show finally did come through Georgia, in the summer of 1907, it hadn’t been Pontilliar’s. She had befriended a daredevil rider on Johnny Jones’s Motordrome, though, and the boy began asking around. Soon, Ruby had a near complete circuit map for the Star Light and made ready to chase it. The daredevil had tried to put his hand up her skirt by way of payment and she had stabbed him in the bicep with a screwdriver as a thank you. By the time Ruby had made it to the Star Light’s ticket booth in Tallahassee, at the end of the season, she was no longer the wild girl who had come down from the mountain. She had become something else entirely.
r />   Daniel saw the spark first. Then the curve of a face in the light from the match, flickering, and then it was dark again. He stopped walking in front of the empty cookhouse and put his hands in his pockets. He turned toward where the lit cigarette was hovering in the air and waited. Her voice was biting.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Daniel cocked his head. It was three in the morning and all of the electric lights had been shut off, all of the tents were quiet. The heavy, lambent moon hung over him and he didn’t need to look up to know that the stars were glinting down on him like ground glass beneath his heel. He watched the lit end of the cigarette, seeming to float in the darkness on the opposite side of the yard. It dipped and then a candle flame sprung up from one of the tables. The cigarette and voice belonged to a woman. It was still too dark to tell, but he knew her eyes were fixed on him, challenging him. Daring him to come closer. So he did.

  “Just going for a walk.”

  Daniel passed through the rows of tables in a few quick strides and stood across from the woman. She leaned back away from him slightly, but kept her chin raised, looking up at him.

  “Little late for a midnight stroll.”

  “And midnight cigarette, I suppose.”

  The woman crossed her legs underneath the table, shifting her weight on the wooden bench. Daniel watched her mouth. Her lips coming down hard around the cigarette.

  “I work here. I live here. I can do whatever I want in the middle of the night…”

  She yanked the cigarette away from her lips and leaned forward, blowing the smoke straight at him.

  “…Daniel Revont.”

  Daniel sat down and adjusted the cuffs on his suit. He rested his forearms on the edge of the table, as if preparing for a meal.