Protecting Emma

by ML Michaels

  “Of course not,” Josef defended himself. “I’m just saying, whoever did it went to a lot of effort. They must have had their reasons.”

  “The purple ladies,” Jana whispered.

  “What did you say, dear?” Celeste inquired in a motherly tone.

  “Purple ladies, the purple wild flowers with six leaves and red centers.”

  “What about them?”

  “Winifred and I, we met a villager the day before she died. His name is Ronan Bagley. He told us a legend about the dark ladies. It is said that anyone who picks one will die that same night. And that’s what happened to Winifred.”

  Silence fell upon the group. Jana looked at her hands. She had no more tears to cry, but her heart pounded hard in her chest as she waited for someone to reply. Finally, Ragul spoke up, “I have heard this legend as well.” His voice was soft and snakelike. “These same flowers grow at my place of birth, and the same story exists there. I am not saying it is true, simply that the legend is known”

  Josef said, “How could a flower do this?”

  “Not the flower,” Ragul corrected him, “the powers in the flower.”

  “That just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Believe what you will,” Ragul hummed as he stood up and slinked into the forest. Jana watched him, and wondered where he was always going off too. He seemed to appear and disappear like the wind. She too got up, tired of the banter. Celeste wished her a good night.

  “Sleep dreams,” Jana murmured as she walked off into the darkness towards her tent.

  Jana stood on her hands, and then gracefully balanced onto just one. Holding the pose, she breathed deeply, and gradually arched her back and bent her legs so her toes touched her head. It had been three days since Winifred was murdered. Jana was attempting to come up with an act for just one person, but it wasn’t going well. She kept getting the feeling that she was being watched, but whenever she looked around, she was alone in the field. She couldn’t see past the tree line.

  Purple ladies grew all around her, dark purple with their red centers like eyes witnessing her practice. Then she was sure of it; she heard footsteps. She flipped onto her feet and stood upright.

  “That was incredible!” Ronan was walking towards her.

  “Oh!” Jana said, surprised. “How long have you been standing there,” she asked, brushing the dirt off of her hands.

  “I just walked out of the forest when I saw you.”

  “You sure do spend a lot of time in the forest,” Jana noted, the afternoon sunlight causing her to squint and bring a hand up to shade her eyes. “I think I saw you the day Winifred died. It looked like you were coming out of our camp.”

  “I was…I heard Winifred had died. I came to find you and see if you were okay. When I got there, nobody was there, so I went back to the village.”

  “But you were running. What were you running from?”

  “I wasn’t running.”

  “I’m positive you were.”

  “The truth is…I want to join the circus.”

  Ronan looked down at his feet bashfully. Jana was taken aback. He wanted to join the circus? Jana’s parents abandoned her when she was a child, and the circus found her. She couldn’t imagine somebody actually wanting to join. She asked him why.

  “I’ve lived with my grandfather since I was a boy. He’s very strict. He wants me to focus on my studies and on religion. He wants me to become a priest, but that’s not me. I want a life filled with adventure. I won’t find that here in Lancaster, I just won’t. That day—when you saw me running—it’s because I was snooping around your camp, trying to find someone to talk to who would listen, who would take pity on me and hopefully invite me to stay. Instead, I came upon men talking about Winifred’s death, and how they thought it was one of the villagers. I got scared and ran before anyone saw me.”

  Jana looked at him. Compassion flowered in her chest for the strange young man. She knew what it was like to not fit in, to wish desperately to have a different kind of life, to dream. The look on his face was so sincere and so hopeful that she took pity on him and invited him to walk back to camp with her. Dinner would be ready soon, and perhaps he could join.

  “Oh, Jana, are you serious? That would be brilliant!” Ronan nearly jumped up and down with joy. If he weren’t in the company of Jana, he would have. Instead he grabbed her by the shoulders, bent forward and kissed her right on the mouth. Jana was so surprised that she stood there, frozen, allowing Ronan to kiss her, until finally her wits returned and she pushed him away.

  “Ronan!” she roared. “What was that?”

  “Oh my, I apologize. I couldn’t help myself. I was just so happy; I couldn’t contain myself.” He looked at her out the corner of his eye. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first day in the field. I thought maybe…”

  Jana didn’t know what to say. She was so shocked by his advance that all she could do was stand there and stare, but she knew that she was not attracted to Ronan in that way.

  “Well…” she finally croaked, “do you still want to come to dinner?”

  “I do.”

  “Let’s just go then.”

  The sun had just disappeared beneath the tree line, and it was getting cold. Jana led the way through the forest, though she had a feeling Ronan knew where he was going. They glanced at each other every once and while, but neither one of them knew what to say. Jana wondered whether or not he felt embarrassed; she couldn’t tell. He took long, slow strides to match her short, quick ones. At one point, their hands touched, and Jana pulled hers away quickly only to realize it had been an accident.

  “I’m so sorry about Winifred.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Jana muttered. “You were right about the purple ladies.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “I just still can’t believe that she’s gone.”

  “It is really terribly losing people you love,” Ronan said softly.

  “Have you lost anyone?”

  “My parents. There was an accident when I was little.”

  In a way, Jana had lost her parents as well. They didn’t die, but they did abandon her with the circus; and, in a way, that was just as bad. Suddenly, she got the feeling that someone was following them. She put a hand out to stop Ronan from walking further.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  Jana strained her ears. She swore she heard the crack of a twig breaking beneath someone’s foot. There it was again. She spun around, but there was no one.

  “Hello, Jana.”

  She spun back around, and there stood Ragul.

  “Ragul! Why do you always have to scare me like that?”

  “I had no intention of scaring you,” he remarked. Ragul had an uncanny ability to move silently through the forest—among other things. His face stretched into a wide smile, his white teeth contrasting against his brown skin. “And who is this,” he inquired, cocking his head to the side.

  “Ronan, my name is Ronan.”

  “I have seen you before, Ronan, wandering through the forest, close to camp.”

  Ronan’s cheeks flushed crimson. It was strange to see such a tall man blush, Jana thought to herself.

  “I’ve loved the circus since I was a little boy,” he offered up as an explanation.

  “So it seems.” Ragul looked from Ronan to Jana and back again. “I must warn you, the mood at camp tonight is on edge. It is not favorable towards villagers,” he cautioned, and then he was off, weaving through the trees, out of sight in seconds.

  The structure Darby had built for himself was well concealed in the foliage. He stood back, wiped his hands on his trousers, and admired a job well done. Nobody would know it was a camp as it was built into the side of a hill and covered with sticks and pine needles. He collected his dreadlocks and tied them up in a knot. Compared to the past days, which were grey and misty, today was hot. The sun was blazing d
own, and you could smell summer in the air. A couple more months, and it would be unbearable in the heat.

  Darby missed the ocean; he was ready to head back home, but something kept him here. With Winifred dead, there was nothing left for him to do, but something in his heart, some instinctual feeling, kept him from leaving. He had promised Winifred he would look out for Jana. He peered out from behind a tree branch and watched Jana practice her handstands. Her movements were fluid and precise, her body strong and compact. She balanced on one hand, the other came out to the side, and her back curled so her legs bent and her toes touched her head. Just then, Ronan came waltzing out of the forest—that boy is everywhere, Darby commented to himself—and Jana broke her pose, startled.

  From this distance, Darby couldn’t hear what they were saying, only mere words here and there. They stood conversing, their bodies a couple of feet apart. The boy looked excited as he spoke to Jana, standing there with her hands on her hips. And then, the boy kissed her. Darby’s jaw dropped. He was shocked to see Ronan lean forward, seemingly out of nowhere, and plant a kiss right on her mouth. What was he doing? Darby cringed. It was a forced kiss, and lasted more than a moment because Jana was obviously so surprised she couldn’t move. That was the only explanation for why their lips remained locked for one, two, three, four seconds. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Darby tried to remember the last woman he had kissed, and then shook his head to rid himself of the thought.

  He could hardly believe Winifred was dead. When that blood-curdling scream woke him three mornings ago, and he found the entire circus troupe gathered in a half moon around the godforsaken tree that Winifred hung from upside down and dead, murdered, it took everything he had to refrain from bursting out of the forest like a wild animal, crazed and hungry for revenge. He knew, however, that losing control wouldn’t get him anywhere. He made a promise to himself then and there to watch out for Jana, and fulfill the promise he had made to Winifred, even though there was nothing he could do for her now.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” Jana coaxed.

  Ronan seemed hesitant to continue on towards camp. He put his hands in his pockets and gulped, “What did he mean the mood is not favorable towards villagers.”

  Jana leaned against a tree, the bark rough and familiar against her back. “The troupe is still spooked about Winifred’s death. There are rumors that it was a villager who murdered her.”

  Ronan’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t me. She picked those purple ladies.”

  “I know, I know. But the troupe doesn’t believe in ghost stories—”

  “—it’s not a ghost story,” Ronan corrected her.

  “Okay, fine. They don’t believe in the legend, and it couldn’t have been someone from the camp because everyone loved Winifred.” Jana pulled a leaf out of her hair and tossed it. It floated to the forest floor, spinning until it landed. “Perhaps, tonight is not the best time to come visit camp. We have a show tomorrow. You could come to that, and I could introduce you to some people.”

  The “No!” emanated from Ronan’s throat forcefully. Jana raised her eyebrows. “I just mean that we are so close,” Ronan maintained, trying to remedy his outburst.

  “Alright then. As you wish,” Jana said, shrugging her shoulders, and then she led the way back to camp.

  Dinner was already being served so few people were near the tents. Jana asked Ronan to wait outside, as she grabbed two bowls from inside her tent. She was beginning to regret inviting him. Apprehension bubbled in her stomach; she didn’t want to instigate something bad happening. Popping her head out of the tent, she handed Ronan the two bowls.

  “Hold these,” she instructed him as she crawled onto her feet, and then took one bowl back. “Follow me.”

  It was dusk; most people had already gotten their food and were sitting be the fire. Josef sat in the outdoor kitchen, stirring a great big pot of vegetable stew. When he saw Jana he said, “Ah! Jana, I was wondering where you’d been all day.”

  “I was off practicing my act.” She refrained from mentioning the field because she didn’t want other people to start coming out there and crowding her spot.

  “And who is this?” Josef asked, pointing the spoon towards the tall fellow standing next to her.

  “This is Ronan. I met him a few days ago. He’s from the village.”

  “I can see that. What’s he doing here?” It was a straightforward question, but to Jana, it seemed to carry in it a noticeable amount of contempt.

  “He wants to join the circus.”

  “Does he now?” He gave Ronan the stink eye, and Josef was pretty good at the stink eye.

  Ronan recoiled, and Jana rescued him, “At least he says he does.”

  As they walked over to the fire, Jana handed him his bowl of soup, which held a much smaller quantity than her own. She couldn’t blame Josef for his hostility, but felt it was misplaced. Ronan was not the culprit. That was obvious. Josef was just looking for someone to blame. The faces around the fire shifted as Ronan approached. Jana hoped they would not feel the same way as Josef.

  “Good evening, everyone. This is Ronan.”

  “What is he doing here?” Celeste inquired; her three boys surrounded her—her youngest in her lap, and the two others sitting at her feet.

  “I invited him,” Jana explained.

  “But why?” she questioned further.

  “Because he wants to join the circus.”

  Murmuring ensued as people spoke to each other in hushed voices, their eyes darting this way and that. Without realizing it, Ronan was slowly backing away. When Jana turned to look at him, he was standing three paces behind her.

  “What do we have here?” Homer’s voiced bellowed above all the rest. He wrapped an arm around Ronan’s shoulders. “A lone villager looking to join the circus?”

  “Leave him alone, Homer,” Jana warned. “I brought him here. If he is not welcome, I’ll take him away, but don’t scare him.”

  “Scare him? Why would I do that? I just want to know what Winifred did that was so horrible he would want to kill her?”

  “What? I didn’t—”

  “Hush now.”

  Ronan tried to pull away, but Homer had a firm grip on him. Jana noticed Ragul watching the scene unfold from off to the side.

  “Homer, he didn’t do anything,” Jana insisted.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Suddenly Ronan twisted his way out of Homer’s hold on him and sprinted off into the forest. The troupe burst out laughing.

  “If he was innocent, he wouldn’t have run!” Celeste piped.

  “Look at him go! I’ve never seen someone run so fast.”

  Jana put a hand on her chest and stared off into the forest where Ronan had long disappeared. It was dark out there. She hoped he would be okay; she should have listened to Ragul’s warning and not brought him.

  “What were you doing inviting him here?” Josef probed her. “He is not one of us.”

  “I know, but he is a good guy,” Jana defended him. “He has wanted to join the circus since he was a little boy. He hates Lancaster.”

  “We don’t accept oogles,” Celeste stated, using the slang word for villagers who think they want to join the circus, but don’t have any talent.

  The old man sat at his desk rereading the bible, searching for answers to his troubles with Ronan. He was sure the boy was out in the forest again. It seemed there was nothing he could do to correct Ronan’s behavior, so he had decided to turn to God for a solution.

  Just then, the front door banged open, and Ronan barged in, slamming the door behind him. He buckled over, hands on his knees, breathing laboriously.

  “What in the world—”

  “I don’t want to hear it, grandfather.”

  “Hear what? You don’t know what I was about to say.”

  “Yes I do, and you can keep it to yourself.”

  “Ronan, who taught you how to behave this way
?” His grandfather thumped the bible shut, and scowled.

  “I’m going to bed.”

  “No you’re not. Not until you tell me where you’ve been.”

  “Fine. I was out in the forest. I was going to have dinner with the circus troupe, but they shunned me. They think I murdered Winifred Russell. The girl who died a few days ago.”

  His grandfather was speechless. “They think what?” he asked incredulously. “They think that you killed the girl?”

  Ronan hung his head and made his way towards the stairs. “Don’t worry, grandfather. I won’t be going to the forest again.”

  The old man was speechless. He felt bad for the boy, but relieved at the same time. God had answered his prayers finally, not in a way that made sense to him, but then again, God works in mysterious ways.

  Ronan walked up the stairs slowly. His feet felt heavy. His heart beat in his ears. His head was hot. He was angry. How could they shun him like that? Ten years he had wanted to join the circus. Ten years. And they just turned him away, accused him of murder without even talking to him. He lit the lamp in his room and paced back and forth at the foot of the bed, trying to calm down. His feet grew raw in his shoes, and his brain felt as though it would explode. I will figure out a way to join the circus, he promised himself, if it’s the last thing I do. It was late at night by the time he blew out the lamp and crawled into bed, still seething from the evening’s events.

  Ragul slinked from shadow to shadow like a cat, following Ronan to the edge of the forest. Ronan’s long legs carried him quickly past the trees, and he seemed to know where he was going. Ragul was impressed to see a villager move with such speed and agility, and found himself breathing heavily by the time he reached the tree line and laid his eyes upon Ronan trekking up the path. He’d wanted to make sure the boy got out of the forest safely. One death at the circus was quite enough.

  Winifred’s death had rattled him. She had been his first friend when he’d found himself joining the circus (an unplanned and questionable choice). Ragul wasn’t a very sociable man, but Winifred had gone out of her way to talk with him, act curious about his snakes, and most of all, she’d ask him to tell stories about his homeland. Ragul missed the desert more than any other place he could think of. The hot days and the cold nights, the stars, the rolling sand dunes, and his first love swirled in his mind’s eyes like a hurricane of nostalgia. He’d go back one day. As heading back towards camp, he wondered how his mother and his sisters were, and if he would ever see them again.