Joanne Bischof

by The Lady

  “Only it’s longer,” she whispered.

  Right. Because he could never wash himself clean. He peered down at her. “Ella, please.” It came out a plea, and when she simply stared back…and stepped away…everything crumbled within him. “Do you want me to explain this further or do you want to go home?” He didn’t mean that to be harsh, but God help him, he was losing his mind with her looking at him like that.

  He knew this day would come.

  He knew it.

  And he’d tried to never let himself get close to someone. He’d learned how to keep to himself. Had taken great pains with it. He’d learned to become a shadow. Even when he’d laid Holland down on that hospital bed and this nurse had helped them. Showed him kindness—more than he’d ever received from an outsider. He’d tried to keep his distance.

  Standing here now, he let his eyes rove her face, fearing it would be the last. Because Ella was looking at him just like that—like he was the shadow he had learned to be. Like he wasn’t real. Not a person.

  Finally she spoke. “I’ll go alone. I don’t want you to have to walk me.”

  Sure she didn’t. Which meant he needed to ask… “And when we leave this place? Will you be coming?”

  That doctor had thrown him out of his hospital.

  Surely Ella could throw him out of her life just as quickly.

  It was fair. He was an aberration.

  Her study of him was teary, gaze falling to his chest then the span of his shoulders. Charlie reached up and touched the collar of his shirt to make sure it was secure. The irony.

  “I will be coming.” Her voice was small.

  The words nearly had him taking a step forward. Made it a battle to stand his ground. “Truly?” Aching to touch her, he kept his hands at his sides. No sense in reading any hope into that. What was he to her? What was he beyond the empty, glassy look in her eyes, her pained expression, and the tremble of her mouth?

  He was nothing really. Had the posters to prove it.

  She nodded, a tear slipping to her cheek. Swiping it away, she shifted as if to go. “I will see you later.” But she didn’t look at him as she spoke, and he knew that he had lost her.

  Whatever had grown between them over the last days—severed.

  A thousand questions shadowed her profile as she turned away. Each one would be answered if she’d but give him the time. But they didn’t have much time. He didn’t want to let her go, but knew it best. He’d just piled more at her feet than she’d ever bargained for. He didn’t want to think of what it would feel like to be in her shoes. Watching her walk away across the field, he couldn’t even imagine what she saw in him now.

  The sheer notion had him walking back to camp, sights on the red vardo.

  Seeing the three sisters outside getting their fire ready for the evening, he walked past them and to the side of their wagon. He hated mirrors. Had not a one, save the tiny looking glass. Not since the bargain with Madame. On the rare occasion he needed to check his appearance, he always came here and they always welcomed him. The mirror hung on the outside wall and he unlatched the wooden doors that protected it. Charlie took a deep breath as he shoved the red shutters aside and found himself staring at his reflection.

  Angelina moved nearer. He glanced at her a moment then started on the top button of his shirt. He worked his way down, sliding out of the white cotton and bundling it in his hands. He couldn’t look up into the mirror. Angelina said not a word. She’d seen him this way before, many times. As had Evangeline and Danielle who watched on. Their expressions quiet. Eyes sad.

  Charlie forced himself to meet his gaze in the glass. Took in the dark drawings that he rarely looked at this way. From the waist of his pants and up, they covered him, spreading across his chest and the curves of his shoulders, folding down over his back. Ornate and intricate and each one carefully chosen. The only pure skin showing was that of his face and neck, his hands. Well, one of them. He reached up with that hand and touched the Dutch windmill over his heart. And thought of the very girl.

  “Would you do it again, Charlie?” Angelina circled around him and settled down on the wagon step.

  Charlie looked back to the mirror. Hating what he saw. But yes. For Holland. For Mimi. “I would.”

  Eyes wet, Angelina gave him a smile that hinted at hope. “Then God will make a way for you.”

  C H A P T E R 2 0

  __________

  Ella couldn’t remember when she’d started running, but by the time she reached her apartment, her chest ached for air. She hurried up, not stopping until she had climbed the stairs that led to the rooftop and was pushing back out into the late afternoon sun.

  Bending, she drew in a deep gulp of air. Straightened. Held it.

  Charlie Lionheart. She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed her hands there for good measure. Ella exhaled. And saw his face. Wind struck her—yanking at her hair.

  What was her life before Charlie?

  It was quiet. Simple. So safe it was empty. She’d taken care to make it that way. There was a routine and a plan. Everything always fell in order day in and day out. She had a job. A paycheck. But her heart—

  Slowly, Ella sank to the brick rise behind her. How long she sat, she didn’t know, but just as she finished recalling Charlie’s story, the door creaked open.

  “What are you doing?”

  Ella turned.

  Margaret walked toward her. Bundled in her robe, she’d had yet to dress for the night shift. “I saw you coming up the street and then you were storming past the apartment. What’s wrong? Is it the end of the world and I just don’t know it?” Margaret reached up and fingered a rag in her hair, tugged it free, and a curl sprang forth. She pulled another rag loose. “Well, there’s someone here to see you. It’s a girl.” Margaret lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “With very long hair.”

  Ella angled toward the doorway just as Angelina appeared. The young woman clasped her hands in front of her. As if sensing something amiss, Margaret headed off but not before flashing a worried look. Ella tried to smile but knew it had to appear as forced as it felt.

  Angelina crossed to the brick rise, tucked her fashionable, floral dress beneath her, and settled down on the ledge. She sat quiet for several moments before speaking. “Since you came to us, I’ve put myself in your shoes. Wondering what you would think and feel if you were to know.” Angelina smoothed the lap of her dress, playing with a stubborn crease. “I said nothing because I knew Charlie wanted to do it himself.” She tipped her head to the side. “I think we both understand him enough to know that he would have wanted to be the one to tell you.”

  Ella nodded.

  Angelina’s expression was soft. “Though he has been to many places, there have been no others that he’s had to tell.”

  No others.

  “I confess…” Angelina twisted her mouth to the side. “I confess I was surprised when I saw that he had brought you home to care for Holland. He has never allowed a woman into his life. Not even his tent, as perhaps you have learned. A very guarded man, Charlie. For as—energetic as he is—he has led a quiet life.” Angelina’s dark brown eyes blinked back a wet sheen. “He cares for you in a way unlike I have ever seen. You have been the only one…”

  Ella’s heart shattered even as joy attempted to string the pieces back together. She touched her forehead, spent and aching. The breeze stirred about them as Angelina’s face turned toward the horizon. Not knowing what else to say, Ella let a question bubble out of her. “Have you never thought of Charlie as anything more than a friend?”

  Angelina’s cheeks appled. “He is a handsome one.” Her expression turned a touch sly. “And quite charming, even, I think, when he doesn’t mean to be. In truth, I have more love for him than is good for me.” She let those words air a moment as she tipped her chin toward the sky. “But I have a husband.”

  “You do?”

  The girl’s face went wistful and Ella could see a new light there. “We all do
. My sisters and I left Russia a few weeks after my wedding. For our people, it is common to marry as soon as a husband is chosen. I was still a child, as was he, so we had never even kissed.”

  Ella was pretty sure she was gaping. She forced a swallow.

  Angelina patted her hand knowingly and smiled. “Though he and his brothers woke to find us gone, they have since written us many letters. And we write back. So many over the years.” Her expression turned playful. “You could say that all of my sisters…we now have sweethearts.”

  Could that mean love? “Will you one day be together?”

  “Soon. They are coming to America to join us.” Color tinted Angelina’s cheeks in the way of a young bride.

  “My sisters and I have learned that we were matched with good men. We always pray that they are safe and well. Though…if it weren’t for our vows, Charlie would have had his hands full with the three of us.” Angelina’s face, while jovial, held a wistfulness. “So we have all learned to love him as a brother. And we’ve all prayed that God would bring him a good woman.” A clear joy shone in her eyes. “Truly, we are glad that He has brought Charlie you.”

  Ella dipped her head. The sheer thought of that made her ache for him all over again, but her mind kept circling back to the grievous sight of his skin and all that he had hidden from her.

  “Charlie told me yesterday that you were considering coming with us. That we might be taking you home.” Angelina’s brows furrowed tenderly. “Is that still true?”

  “I—I believe so.” Ella twisted her fingers together. “But it’s all so much.”

  Angelina reached over and squeezed her hand. “But remember. It is not a marriage proposal from Charlie. It’s simply a few days to take you home.”

  Angelina stood and walked over to the railing. “It’s an interesting thought to imagine,” she glanced toward the circus, “that tomorrow, standing here in this very spot, that will all be gone.” The wind lifted, barely moving her bound hair. “I only ever think of where we are going, not what we are leaving behind.” She gave Ella a sad smile. “For it is rare for us to have something to leave behind.”

  Ella stared out to where the tops of the circus tents glowed beneath the late sun, flags fluttering in the spring breeze. And thought of Charlie. The memories pierced her. Beginning with the moment he first slammed into her life—Holland safe in his arms. All the days Ella had spent beside him. But… “Those markings. What he’s done.”

  Angelina nodded gently. “It is a severe thing that he has done. His life, it will never be the same.”

  Ella had seen in Charlie’s broken eyes how true that was. All for those he loved.

  Angelina walked back and sat. Taking Ella’s hand in both of hers, she gave a loving squeeze. “It is hard, no? When a part of a person is spoiled. Especially that which cannot be reclaimed.” Angelina’s glittering gaze held a sweet sadness as she slipped a bit of Ella’s hair behind her ear. “Perhaps it is best, truly, to discard that person entirely. For what do they have left of worth?” Her expression was both humble and pained as she placed each word with care.

  Forcing Ella’s chin to tremble. She tried to fight it, but the sting came. “How do you know this?”

  “I know nothing of you,” Angelina squeezed Ella’s hand again and peered at her, “but what I saw in your eyes that night by the wheel.”

  Ella blinked quickly.

  Regret and pain slammed her chest in a hot gush. Bowing her head, she didn’t speak for several minutes and Angelina was simply still beside her. A comforting presence. The edge of Ella’s sleeve was damp by the time she knew what she needed to do. She needed to pack her belongings and brave what newness tomorrow might hold.

  Finally, Angelina made to stand. “I should go before I’m noticed missing.”

  Ella lifted her head slowly.

  “You may know that the road is passable again. So tomorrow is the closing day of the circus. Having stayed longer than usual, we’ve settled in more than we tend to, so there’s more to do. We’ll begin breaking down this mess we’ve made of your town. The next day, we’ll leave at first light. My sisters and I are joyed to have you coming with us.”

  Swallowing a swell in her throat, Ella stood to give Angelina a hug, squeezing the young woman tight, wishing that their paths might not separate. She said as much, and when Ella pulled back, Angelina’s eyes were sad. Gone was the confidence, the mature light. She seemed on the verge of tears now. And so very young.

  “Do you remember that night? The night you ran away from him? Yet he came with us to make sure you were safe?”

  How could she forget? Cold, Ella wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Charlie’s contracts are very binding. If you turn from him now…” Angelina touched fingertips to her own heart. “You will be going where he cannot follow.”

  C H A P T E R 2 1

  __________

  Margaret squeezed her so tight, Ella squeaked.

  “You must write and tell me everything!” Margaret squealed.

  “Are you sure that Abigail is going to board with you?”

  “Will you stop worrying about me?”

  Ella crammed two books into her carpet bag. “This is crazy. Margaret, please talk me out of it.”

  “Are you kidding? You must go. Because if you don’t…” Margaret fastened the ties of her nursing apron. “I will.” Finished, she smoothed the pleats of the gray dress, reminding Ella of all that had changed. “I mean it. If that man looked at me the way he looks at you, you better believe that my bags would already be packed. I’m already horridly jealous. Don’t make me hate you by letting him get away.”

  Smiling, Ella stepped in to help with Margaret’s back buttons. “I’ll do my best.”

  The girl spoke over her shoulder. “I can’t believe I have to go and when I get home you’re going to be gone.”

  Ella slipped the last button into place, and Margaret turned and hugged her.

  “Thank you for everything,” Ella whispered.

  They exchanged a few final words then with three kisses to Ella’s cheeks, Margaret hurried out, waving and swiping tears all the way.

  Alone, Ella turned back to her carpetbag. The circus was leaving at first light, but Angelina had invited her to come tonight to settle in. Glad for that chance, Ella crammed in her second pair of shoes, followed by stockings and undergarments. Next went in her box of herbs and medicines where it would ride safely. By sheer will and strength, she rolled up two skirts, squashing them in before adding a trio of blouses and buttoning the bag snug.

  Carpetbag in hand, Ella lugged it down the steps of the building—her sights set on the circus grounds. A stirring of excitement shot through her when she drew near enough to see the lowering flags. The thrill was mightily tempered by a heavy dose of nerves. But she lugged her bag down Campbell Street, through the carnival lot, and into the camp where tents and wagons were moving and changing.

  Coiled ropes lay wound about, and the clatter of stakes being piled rang out from several directions. Amidst the chaos, she spotted Angelina coming toward her.

  Someone moved in the distance. Charlie.

  His untucked shirt was bright and white under the afternoon sun as he walked along the outside of his tent, carrying a washtub. Bound snug to his back in the sling was Holland.

  Ella glanced back to see Angelina waving her over to the red wagon. After joining her, Angelina spoke. “Is that all you have?”

  Ella peered down to the carpetbag in hand. “I need to go back to fetch just a few more things.” She followed Angelina up the four little steps into the wagon and was suddenly swept into a world of cupboards, fringe, and light.

  “Oh, my.” The rounded ceiling was papered in a soft floral print and the walls, built of narrow boards, painted cream. At the very back was a raised bed where tiny curtains pulled back to show a stack of quilts and brightly-colored blankets. Below the bed nestled four quaint cupboards where copper pots and pans winked at her.

&
nbsp; The wagon creaked gently when Danielle joined them.

  Ella stepped down the narrow carpet runner that was underfoot. “What do you call these wagons?”

  “It’s a caravan…or a vardo. Not quite as big as your apartment.”

  “It’s lovely.” Ella touched a wooden counter built into one side wall and beside that a white iron washstand. Opposite stretched a narrow bed, petite table, and two spindly chairs. Hatboxes of every shape and size filled nooks and crannies, and little drapes shuttered things from view. Square glass windows let in light. Hinged and opened out, they invited in the spring breeze.

  “I never knew these could be like this.” Ella looked up to where glass was laid in the ceiling, letting in even more light.

  From behind her, Danielle spoke. “Ah, you have seen only Charlie’s, no?” Her Russian accent was thicker than Angelina’s.

  Ella nodded, thinking of his oversized mattress spread on the floor, pillows and blankets scattered about. His tallies scratched into the wall.

  Danielle’s pretty mouth twisted up, dark eyes sparkling. “Charlie’s is a storage wagon.” She made a motion with her hands to indicate the way the broad side folded down. “Though he fills it with much clutter.”

  The sisters knew him well.

  “He says it is because he does not fit on a bed this size.” Angelina winked playfully. “But I doubt that is really the reason.”

  Ella sensed that Charlie didn’t have a wagon like this because of propriety. This was an intimate space indeed, and he honored Regina by setting up the tent and tucking himself away. A feat that caused him much work each time he moved on.

  She followed the sisters back out into the sunshine only to stop short in the middle of the steps at the sight of Charlie standing there, breeze tousling his shirt. Ella made her way down the last two steps and felt his gaze on her as she circled past him. Charlie looked to Angelina. “Evangeline said you needed me.”

  Angelina mentioned concern with the glass in the roof.