Joanne Bischof

by The Lady

  She’d hoped for…him? As a man and not a monster?

  A faint smattering of freckles touched her cheeks in a wisp of girlishness. A guess would put her at eighteen. Perhaps seventeen. Slowly, she drew closer to the wagon until her face was just inches from his bowed one. Her perfume lifted as the most fragrant oil—freeing him for the briefest of moments from the stench of cheap cigars and stale liquor. Then her whispered voice. “Thank you.” Chains rustled as she pulled his fingers nearer to her mouth. Gently, she kissed his hands, one and then the other. Wet eyes peered up at him. “For being the man who walked away.”

  Lowering his head, Charlie slammed his own eyes closed. Both of her hands were around one of his now. Holding so tight he could feel her pulse. His eyes stinging, he peered at her through blurred vision. The front of her gown pressed against a spoked wheel where it was surely being soiled by grit and grease. Beads of moisture trickled down his spine in the late summer heat. His chest was slick with it. That same humidity coiled the ends of her hair. “May I stay here beside you?” she whispered. “Until you are freed to go home?”

  His throat was nearly too dry for words. “They won’t allow it.” Just him, alone.

  Looking grieved, she lifted his palm and pressed it to her cheek which was so silken, so clean, he was suddenly aware of the way the sweat mixed with dust on his skin. How filthy, how stained he was.

  The crowd balanced on a stunned hush. Perhaps transfixed by her loveliness. Perhaps astonished at the way she clung to him.

  “Don’t go back there,” he said softly, breaking the rules again by speaking. Their exchange had surely been noticed by now.

  From her reticule, she pulled a tiny glass vial and slowly unscrewed the lid. She glanced to a torchbearer who drew near and told her to move away. The young woman ignored the command even as two men stepped forward, surely her guards, because they hemmed her in safety. “There is only one thing I am skilled at, good sir.” She blinked up at him.

  “And there’s only one thing that I’m skilled at,” Charlie countered. Throat aching for water, he had to whisper the rest. “Yet one day I’m going to try my hand at pushing a plow.”

  She smiled, beamed really. “And have you a lady to walk beside you, Mr. Lionheart?”

  “I do,” he said, his throat still hoarse with thirst. Meaning it with his whole heart, he rallied his voice. “I’ll go next to find her.” The moment he was freed from this place.

  The young courtesan’s head bowed and to his surprise, she tipped the vial against her fingers and touched oil to his wrists, sliding the tender concoction beneath the manacles, soothing. She peered up at him and her face held new life. New life that told him, no, she wasn’t going to return to that place. “Then I’ll pray Godspeed. For both of you.”

  __________

  Hands still tight in her lap, Ella’s doubts faded away. She might not have been a practiced petitioner, but it only took one thing to talk to God. Simply the words lifting from her heart. That Charlie was safe on this darkest of nights. That he wasn’t alone. Wasn’t afraid.

  She thought of the crowd that was surely surrounding him now. Prayed that the ridicule and the jeers would be far from him this night.

  Would they ever know? The man walked with lions. A fierce legion that would step forward if he but commanded them.

  The wind tugged at her hair, stirring the sleeves of her blouse. It was a warm, dry wind, making her think of the end of summer. Of the man she loved coming south again. Closing her eyes tighter, Ella prayed he would find his way back to her and if that wasn’t possible, that she would find her way to him.

  If it meant boarding a train and traveling to his compound, she would. Perhaps the circus needed another costume mistress. She’d even learn how to juggle or do a somersault if necessary. The sheer thought of it had her laughing aloud, startling a pair of crows. And Papa. His head lifted ever so slightly and he winked.

  Surely a strange amen, a laugh, but perhaps her newfound joy was amen all the same.

  Afresh in mind was Charlie’s teasing about being able to hop on one foot without falling over. Her heart filled with the memory of that day—his funny accent and deck of cards. A million costume pieces bursting out of that trunk. The way he’d drawn in the patrons with his riddles and wit. Made sure Ella had her concession treat. How she hadn’t realized it that day, but just like with his boys, he’d taken the time to play with her. Gave her a reason to laugh again. To feel the bars stretching far and away, the world boundless.

  If she could just be there once more, she would. If she could just slip her dime into his gloved hand, she would. Not to see any kind of brokenness. But to be a part of the uniqueness and life that no mold could contain.

  And there? There she would make sure that he knew just how much she loved him.

  __________

  Charlie strode into his tent just as fireworks popped. Canvas walls tinted pink and then blue. Accustomed to it, Holland slept as if it were a lullaby. Clad in a nightgown, Regina came around her partition. Without a second thought, Charlie picked her up—something he never did because she hated it. He smacked a kiss to each of her cheeks and Regina tried to kick him, but her foot only tangled in his cloak. Even then he knew she didn’t mean it because she was beaming.

  The music playing along the night air was a clatter of brass and trumpets and Charlie turned her in a funny dance. After dipping her, he put her back on the ground.

  Hands to hips, she peered up with every shred of spunk she had. “Now what?”

  “Now?” He climbed onto his bed and took up the thin blade he used to make tallies. His hand shook as he pressed it to the green wood of the wagon. Finally, he touched down and scratched a short line. The final mark. He leaned back on his heels and looked at the mass of cuts. Nearly a year of his life. He glanced around the wagon, the tent…to Regina and Holland. And thought on those who weren’t there.

  “And now?” Regina asked again.

  “At the moment.” After climbing down, Charlie bent, and taking her small hand, pressed it to his forehead. “I feel like I’m coming down with something. A cough. Maybe a cold. At the very least a fever. Or do you think it’s a broken arm? Either way, I’ve already got the days off to recover.”

  There was a sparkle in Regina’s eyes. “Sounds like you need a doctor.” At the washstand, she wet a rag and motioned for him to sit.

  “I was thinking maybe a nurse.” Charlie pulled forward a crate and settled onto it.

  With slow, steady movements, Regina wiped the blackness from his face for the final time.

  “Come with me?” he whispered. After Regina made a few more swipes with her rag, he opened his eyes to see her smiling face.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  C H A P T E R 3 8

  __________

  Morning came and with it the dew. The kiss of early autumn all around, a few leaves slipped along the air as Ella helped her mother with the laundry. Steam rose from the great iron kettle in the yard, and using the wooden paddle, Ella dunked sheets and pillowcases below the sudsy surface. Papa walked across the yard, gun slung over his shoulder. He threw them a wave and vanished over the low hill.

  Dip and stir and rinse. The motions filled her morning as Ella filled the line. Her mother cranked the hand wringer, squeezing water out of a petticoat and Ella hung it up. They stopped only to warm beans and bread and then Papa was coming back over the hill, a pair of rabbits in hand. Leaving her mother to plan supper, Ella went back out to finish the laundry.

  She stood in bare feet and stretched up to drape an apron to dry, securing it with a wooden pin.

  Her eyes lifted over the line, taking in the noon horizon and its emptiness. Ella sank back down and plucked up a pin from the basket. She secured the last pieces of laundry, then slid the basket aside. Wiping her hands dry on her apron, she drew in a slow, deep breath, then lifted her lashes. Took in the empty horizon once again. The one that was empty every day. Every hour.
>
  And then she froze.

  Seeing him.

  A man…walking across the field. Handsome as could be, wearing a gray waistcoat. Brown hair slicked to the side.

  Ella didn’t move. Her arms froze at her sides and she didn’t realize she’d forgotten to breathe until she gasped.

  Charlie.

  Her chest rose and fell quicker…and quicker…

  She stared at him, the cool press of a sheet against her hand as she peered around it. Pushed past it, feet suddenly moving, carrying her over the dry grass, closer. He seemed to spot her. She knew it in the way he slowed. Stared. Hands fisting at his sides.

  She’d always known him to be tall and strong, but standing there in her papa’s field, the sun bright about him and the truth pressing against her heart—that he had come back to her—she’d never seen such a perfect, more beautiful sight. And suddenly she was running.

  You are loved. And you’ll not be forgotten.

  She didn’t know how long it took to reach him, but then she was colliding into his chest and he hoisted her inches off the ground. He turned in a slow, slow circle before lowering her gently back down. He smelled of summer and all that she loved, eyes so vulnerable it made her ache all over. She touched his jaw, silken and smooth. Let her hand slide up the side of his head, into his hair.

  She breathed his name.

  He laughed hers loud and deep as if having waited to speak it a long time.

  “You came back.”

  He let out a slow sigh, his eyes soaking in her face. “Well. I’d asked this girl I know a question and she never gave me an answer.” He kissed her forehead and lingered.

  Ella closed her eyes.

  “I don’t mind trying again,” he whispered. He moved as if to lower himself down.

  She gripped his vest in her hands. “Yes.”

  He stilled.

  “Yes…please.”

  He laughed. “‘Yes please’ you want me to give it another shot or ‘yes please’ you want me to marry you?”

  “Yes please, I want you to marry me.”

  He sobered. All his humor vanished and in its place was a man looking down on her, his eyes suddenly glossy as if he hadn’t anticipated that truly being her answer. She slid her thumb along the inside of his collar.

  He closed his eyes. “You’re sure?” he whispered, and she heard how the words broke.

  She nodded, vision blurring. Overwhelmed by the thought of having him—him being hers, for all of their days—her shoulders shook. He pulled her close.

  “You left me.” She nearly said that she wished he hadn’t, but knew now that he had been wise. Wise in walking away and forcing her to dig deep and understand what it was in this life that she truly wanted. How he’d given her the time to begin to heal.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Trust me when I say that I didn’t want to.” He gently pushed her back to peer down. “It’s just…there were so many things to figure out. It was all so fast for you.” He smoothed a strand of hair away from her face. “I see that now. I don’t have a house, Ella.” Regret lived in his expression when he pulled farther away. “I don’t even know how I’m going to buy one for a while yet. And worse yet, I’m still in a contract with the lions for three more seasons with the circus. Years. I could break it, but…”

  She quickly shook her head. “I don’t want you to break it.”

  He looked at her hard.

  “I want you to just take me with you.”

  “Are you sure?” His brow shadowed in uncertainty.

  She nodded fiercely.

  “It’s just me,” he said. “And Holland and a wagon, and really, Regina.”

  “I love all those people.” She swiped at her eyes. “Lots and lots. And I like wagons. If you’re in it…I like it.”

  Suddenly he was blushing, perhaps at the notion of her in his wagon.

  “Oh, I’ve missed you.” He ran his hand back across her ear. “But that’s what I’m worried about.” He moistened his lips and cupped the sides of her face. “I want to love you and I want to make you my wife. To be the husband that you need. And I don’t want to hurt you or cause you grief.” He paused as if needing those words to sink in for her. “I promise, Ella…I promise you that I would be so patient—”

  “I named him,” she blurted, needing him to know how desperately she trusted him.

  His brow folded deeper. “What?”

  “I named him.”

  “Who?”

  Ella moistened her lips and touched first her stomach and then her heart. “I named him Charlie.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed.

  “Is that all right?” She stepped closer. “Do you think…do you think there could be two Charlie Lionhearts?”

  Suddenly his chin was trembling. His eyes grew wet as he pulled them away from hers and sank down to his knees. Ella followed him. He bowed his head and covered his face with a hand. His shoulders shook. The sight of him blurred, for her own tears came.

  “I didn’t want it to be anything else,” she whispered. “I like to think that he would have turned out like you.”

  Fist to his forehead, Charlie looked at her, his eyes so wet he had to pause to run his face against his shoulder. “Ella.” Slowly, he shook his head.

  “Will you have me, Charlie?” She slid her hand inside his, twining fingers through ones she had thought about every single day. “I don’t want to be without you. Please take me with you.”

  With his face holding every bittersweet joy she felt herself, he pulled her close. Held her.

  Ella sniffed. “I’ll talk to my parents. They’ll understand—”

  “I already did,” he whispered.

  “You what?”

  “I did. I spoke to your father.”

  “Is that what you were talking about?”

  He gave her a coy smile and swiped at his eyes again. “Among other things.” He sobered gently. “I asked him a lot of questions and he asked me a few of his own, and the only request he made is that I give you some time.”

  Overwhelmed, she could barely form the words. “That’s why you left.”

  He set his mouth and looked to be trying to collect himself still. “It was one of the reasons. It was for the best. But…” He moistened his lips. “I told him I would be back, and last night I got to ask him again.”

  “You were here last night?”

  He nodded. “Just for a little while.”

  “How did I not know about this?”

  “I dunno. You were doing something in the kitchen.” He smiled and she knew he’d taken care not to be spotted.

  She almost hit him. As if sensing as much, Charlie chuckled.

  Ella savored the sight. “And what did you say?”

  “Ella.” He took her hands in his, kissed each one. “Do you think you could survive without asking a question? For just two minutes…and let me get this out.”

  She laughed and sniffed then nodded.

  “And now would you be so good as to stand back up so I can do this properly.”

  She shook her head, wrapped her arms around his neck, and scooted closer.

  Laughing, he put his arms around her anyway. He rubbed his face against her shoulder, once and then again. Finally when he spoke, his voice was soft. “Holland. Sometimes she looks around the tent and I think she’s looking for you.”

  Ella pressed her forehead to his temple.

  “I think this goes without saying, but you’d be getting a little girl too.”

  Ella’s lip quivered. “I’ll take her.” With her whole heart.

  “I thought you’d say that. And Regina...”

  “Regina too.”

  Straightening, he smiled at her enthusiasm. “Regina wants to go home to her daughter in Florida. She’s been waiting to for some time now. If it’s any comfort, she wouldn’t be leaving because of you. She would have left the company sooner but stayed for me and Holland. And now…” He shook his head. “She knows that time would
be over for her. To everything a season.” He gave such a sad smile that Ella’s chin trembled. He nodded as if his thoughts mirrored hers. “She’s a good woman.”

  Ever so gently, Ella kissed his forehead.

  “So with all that. If you’ll have me…”

  “With all my heart.” She kissed his warm skin again. Holding tight, Ella looked over to see her parents standing on the porch and a happy sob slipped out. Ella covered her mouth with her hand. Slowly, timidly, her parents came over. Her mother hugged her. Papa shook Charlie’s hand. And Ella saw Charlie looking at her as if he never wanted to look away.

  __________

  The next day, Charlie bathed in the river and hoped he looked presentable in his best shirt and dark boots. He combed his hair until it was tamed, then, with butterflies in his stomach, hitched up his wagon and returned to Ella’s farm, Regina and Holland sitting, the pair of them, on the back porch of the caravan looking like sunflowers with their happy faces.

  Never had he been so nervous as he was leading the horse into Ella’s yard. Before the gold-painted wheels even slowed to a halt, her father came out and then the children. Last of all Ella’s mother. The woman’s eyes were already glistening. All of them were dressed up like they were going to church. Charlie handed Ella’s father an envelope with a spare document inside. One that bore Holland’s name and so much more.

  The man vowed to keep it safe.

  Charlie glanced around as they greeted him, but everything faded away when Ella stepped from the cabin. Standing there…prettiest thing he ever saw in a pale blue dress, her hair softly braided. And he wished his father and his mother could have met her.

  For they would have surely understood why his knees suddenly felt weak and why he knew the days of his life would not be empty.

  A preacher came then. A plain one—but with a smile that reached his eyes. He seemed to know Ella as a friend. The man stood them together right there in her parents’ yard, under the shade of an oak, Holland babbling away in Regina’s arms.