In Search of a Memory (Truly Yours Digital Editions)

by Griffin, Pamela

  He hesitated. “You’re right. I did.”

  “Then you admit it. You are following me.” She stopped walking and whirled to face him in accusation.

  He gave a gentle tug to her elbow. “Come on. We don’t want to get left behind. They’d never know we were missing.” They resumed their walk, and he released his light hold.

  “Well?” she insisted after a few steps.

  “What do you want me to say, Angel?” He sounded frustrated. “I wanted to make sure you were safe, especially after seeing those young thugs go after you. I know I said all this before, and call it none of my business, but finding you in my car and alone on the train, somehow that made it my business.”

  “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  “I don’t think you know what you need.”

  Offended, she glared at him. “That’s an incredibly judgmental statement to make, since you hardly even know me.”

  “You’re right. But if we’re going to talk snap judgments, you’ve done your fair share. Don’t judge my character just because of my name, Angel. I’m not the terrible, preying villain you’ve made me out to be.”

  “You sure don’t mind throwing your last name around to achieve your purpose!” She felt a little ashamed when she realized he’d done so only to help her, but she couldn’t seem to back down.

  He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m glad you brought that up. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone who I am. I’m just Roland here.”

  “Then you intend to stay?” She couldn’t hide her distress. “There’s really no need. These people are nice. Cassie,

  Chester, Mahoney. I don’t think I’ll find trouble among this bunch, so don’t feel obligated to remain on my account.”

  “Can we not argue, for once? We were coming close to getting along together on the train. Can we go back to that moment?”

  “That was before you made me your personal mission.” And before she learned he was a gangster. “I’m still not entirely sure of your motives.”

  “Okay.” He released a weary sigh, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I confess. Joining the carnival did start out as a means to watch out for you, maybe even to get to know you better—”

  “I knew it!”

  “But that wasn’t the sole reason. There’s more to it than that.”

  She regarded him with skepticism. “How so?”

  “I did a lot of thinking last night. You didn’t ask what I was doing on the train, and I evaded your cousin’s question about why I was in your hometown. Now I’ll tell you, strictly in confidence, being as how only you know who I am and I’d like it to stay that way. But you must never tell anyone what I’m telling you. Do you understand, Angel? It’s for your own good.”

  A sense of excitement mingled with dread at his overtly clandestine attitude made her nod slowly. She half expected a car of gangsters to suddenly careen into view, tommy guns firing.

  He remained silent for so long she thought at first he had changed his mind about telling her. Their pace slowed, until they were even farther behind their tour guides and well out of earshot.

  When he looked at her again, his expression was somber.

  “I went there to visit the family of one of my grandfather’s victims. A man who once worked for him. I went to see his wife.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Who?” She scoured her brain for all those in their small community who’d recently lost loved ones but struck a blank.

  He shook his head slowly, his eyes grave, making it clear he wouldn’t reveal that information. “For a long time I’ve wished to cut myself from the organization, from the family itself, but it’s been nothing more than a hopeful desire and empty words on my part. Grandfather never believed I would follow through, and he was right. I tried to break away before but made halfhearted attempts at best. The life I led, it’s all I know.” He frowned. “Lately, more and more, I’ve detested what my family stands for and faced some hard choices. Do I turn a blind eye to the horror they generate and embrace the organization as I’ve been trained? Or do I listen to what’s in my heart, telling me that such loyalty holds too steep a price, amounting to no good and leading only to regret, sorrow… and death.”

  Angel listened, sensing his pain ran deep. For the first time since they’d met, she felt a strange connection to Roland, who also suffered through his family for being different, and she sympathized with what he must have undergone and was still going through.

  “I was on the train because I was also running, but God only knows where I was going. I sure didn’t. Without my family’s knowledge, I’d just met the young widow of the man my grandfather had bumped off for money owed. The poor man had three kids with one on the way. He was a dope for getting involved with my grandfather in the first place, but his widow is the one suffering. The whole stinking affair made me question if I wanted to return and take my so-called rightful place in the organization, as has been expected of me since I was born.”

  Wetness shone in Roland’s eyes, and he hastily averted his gaze, blinking furiously. Moments passed before he again spoke.

  “Then I met you. Courageous, full of purpose, ready to take off alone in the night in a bold move to change what life threw your way. I may not agree with your methods, but I admire your spirit and independence, even envy it. You made a decision and were determined to follow through, no matter the obstacles. Watching you gave me courage to make my own getaway from family expectations, from the family itself.”

  She sensed him look at her. “I want to start over, Angel. To become my own man and somehow, if it’s even possible, to redeem my family name. I never plan to spend another cent of their blood money, and that’s one of two reasons I found a job here. I need the income, and they would never think to look for me at a carnival.”

  She snapped her focus his way. “You’re in danger?” she whispered. “If they find you? Oh, but—surely your own family wouldn’t harm you!”

  His mouth tightened in a grim line. “My grandfather has a warped sense of right and wrong. A breach of loyalty to him and the organization is the same as treason to a king, even if it’s morally the right thing to do. A cousin was rubbed out for having thought to be a squealer.” His words grew vague, slow, as if he were speaking to himself and had forgotten her. She wondered if he’d ever aired his concerns to anyone before now. Somehow she doubted it and felt both honored and apprehensive that he confided in her.

  He jerked out of his solemn musings and gave her a tight smile. “Grandfather would never believe I’d be working with a traveling carnival heading in the opposite direction from where I last told him I was going. Besides, he and his men wouldn’t be seen dead in a place like this. Operas are his form of amusement, and nightclubs are his men’s.”

  “But what if the troupe heads to New York City and someone recognizes you there? What then?”

  “According to Chester, the carnival is traveling north through Connecticut. But if that day ever comes, if the train heads for New York, I’ll figure out a plan of action then.”

  She nodded, trying to sort through the startling weight of his disclosure.

  “Hey.” He stopped and pulled her around to face him, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders. “I didn’t tell you any of this to upset or worry you. You’re safe, even if they find me, which they won’t. I only told you to set your mind at ease that I’m really not stalking you and do have a good reason for being here. Okay?”

  She returned his faint smile. “I’m not sure. Does this mean you’ve finally quit your job as my guardian angel?”

  He snorted in mild displeasure at the term, dropping his hands to his sides. “An angel? No. But you could do worse than have me for a bodyguard. I’ve been trained all my life to be alert and cautious, among other things.” He didn’t elaborate, and she decided she didn’t want to know.

  “I suppose then, it’s okay,” she said on a mock sigh. “But I really can take care of myself.” She couldn’t resist
the reminder, and he laughed.

  Shivers danced along her spine at the warm, spontaneous sound. For a reason she couldn’t grasp, especially after such grim revelations, she felt buoyant as they caught up to their hosts. Chester and Cassie once again remembered they had company and turned to tell Roland and Angel about the next attraction.

  Upon seeing the sideshow tent and the banner above it, Angel froze.

  six

  Roland wondered what had happened. One minute they were finally talking on companionable terms, and the next, Angel seemed to have turned to stone.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in confusion.

  “Fine,” she whispered, her eyes on the banner that hung high and spread from one end of the wide tent to the other. “Just… fine.”

  Roland looked up at the painted caricatures displaying all manner of human oddities lined up in a row, six of them, from a tattooed man covered in pictures and piercings to a pair of Siamese twins joined at the shoulder.

  “The Human Freak Show,” Chester read. “One of the carnival’s main attractions. That and Cassie’s act probably bring in the most money.”

  “More’s the pity,” Cassie intoned. “It’s a shame to parade people around as if they were nothing more than animals.”

  Angel threw a swift look her way but didn’t respond.

  “I never noticed any of them at the cookhouse tent,” Roland observed.

  “They don’t eat with the rest of us, except for Jim the Giant—the tall man who sat at our table,” Chester explained. “He stands at near seven feet and sure is handy when I need something retrieved that’s out of reach. I’m a tad on the short side, you might have noticed,” he joked. “A likable fellow, Jim. Don’t know the others. The man in charge of the sideshow keeps them hidden for the most part. He has a black soul, I’d wager, and doesn’t treat them at all well.”

  “Then why do they stay?” Angel’s words were hoarse. She stared at the tent.

  “My guess is they have no other way to make a living. They’re ridiculed by society and, especially in these hard times, wouldn’t risk leaving a place that offers sure room and board. Back in the nineteenth century, things were worse. Their kind were thought of as monsters and put in cages. Some of them were even hunted down and killed.”

  Angel winced. “But some leave, don’t they?” Her question seemed far from casual. “Some leave this carnival world and go on to lead normal lives?”

  Chester scratched his head. “I suppose so.”

  “Do you know anyone from this carnival who did?”

  “Can’t say as I do. But I’ve only been with Mahoney & Pearson a little over a year.”

  “I’d like to meet them… the ones who work inside that tent.”

  Chester raised his brows in surprise. Even Roland looked at Angel oddly upon hearing the resolve that strengthened her melancholy words. Cassie’s gaze went elsewhere, past the tent to the stationary Ferris wheel; she seemed to have detached herself from the conversation.

  “I’m not sure that’s possible,” Chester said. “You’d need to talk to Tucker, the man in charge, and he’s not a nice sort. Another thing, they might take offense to your asking them questions. For the act, they do as they’re told, but for the most part, they keep to themselves and don’t trust others. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

  “I’d still like to try,” Angel insisted softly.

  “Just why are you so interested?” Chester asked.

  Angel shrugged, but Roland sensed she was hiding something. “If they don’t want me there, I’ll go. I’d just like the chance to meet and talk with them. Not to… observe them.”

  “Tell you what I can do,” Chester relented. “After my act some night, assuming you can find someone to man your ticket booth, I’ll take you to the last show. Afterward, I’ll talk with Tucker and pass along your request.”

  “Thank you, Chester. I’d appreciate that.”

  Roland felt Chester could be trusted but didn’t like the idea of Angel going anywhere alone with the man. Judging by Cassie’s slight frown, neither did she.

  “We should be going,” she urged. “There’s more to see and do, and I have to get to work soon. I need plenty of practice if I want to try out my new act this weekend.”

  “Not the backward flip?” Chester didn’t sound pleased.

  “Exactly that.”

  “You almost got yourself killed last time!”

  “I’ve been working on it. I have the timing down now.”

  The two moved toward the midway, quietly arguing.

  Roland wondered what existed in women that their entire gender seemed to think they could face any risk and get away with it, as if supposing they could exercise complete control over its outcome. He’d never been dense enough to assume he had control over his life; his father and grandfather wielded supreme authority and rarely gave him the chance to think for himself. His little sister, on the other hand, possessed a streak of confident carelessness; Cassie obviously thought herself indestructible, and Angel foolishly entertained the same theory.

  But it wasn’t her string of reckless acts that concerned him at the moment. She continued to stare at the banner, her eyes full of horrified pity mingled with grief and… tears?

  “Angel?” he quietly prodded.

  She looked his way as if just coming out of a trance.

  “Maybe we should catch up with the others?”

  “Okay.” She whisked away the moisture that beaded her lower lashes.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” He hadn’t expected the low blow to his gut that the sight of her tears caused him.

  She shook her head as if she wouldn’t answer then did.

  “Do you ever wonder where they come from?” she asked sadly. “About their families, and if they, if they… miss them?”

  “Homesick?” he asked gently. “Wish now you’d never taken the train? You can still go back, you know.”

  “No.” She gave one last somber glance to the banner. “I can never go back.” Turning from him, she walked away.

  Curious at her hollow words, Roland watched her a moment before moving to catch up to her. “Then it looks like there’s nothing left but to make the best with the hand you’ve been dealt.”

  A slight grin tilted her mouth. “That sounds like something Nettie would say. Except for the gambling part. She abhorred it. Said it was the devil’s game.”

  “Nettie?”

  “My aunt’s cook and a very dear friend. If she were here right now, she’d probably tell me that, in order to stay strong, I must face the day so that the shadows are behind me.” At the puzzled lift of his brows, she clarified, “When you face the sunlight, shadows fall behind you. It was her way of saying not to live in the past or dwell on where you’ve been.”

  “Smart lady, your cook. Wish it were so simple.”

  “It’s really not, is it? Sometimes the past leaves questions that need to be answered—”

  “Hey, you two,” Chester called back. “Are we talking to ourselves up here? I thought you wanted a tour.”

  “We’re coming.” Angel quickened her pace. Roland regretted that she’d had no chance to continue and hoped they might resume their conversation later.

  The rest of the tour proved more peaceful. Angel didn’t talk much, but she relaxed, laughing at Chester’s jokes and giving Roland more than one of her pretty smiles in reply to something he said. He felt relieved that she obviously no longer resented or feared being in his company. The four parted ways at Chester’s tent, with an invitation and promise to come view his act soon.

  “Maybe we can talk again later?” Roland suggested to Angel once Cassie headed for the back of the lot, where the biggest attractions stood, and Chester disappeared inside his tent.

  Peering up at him, she squinted, as if thinking it over. “Maybe we can.” She gave him an easy smile and walked in the direction opposite where the animals lodged.

  Roland watched her go. And maybe… joining up with the carnival
would offer bonuses he’d never dreamed of. He couldn’t say if he desired Angel as a potential girlfriend, even as a date. That was thinking too far ahead, and his state of affairs was shaky at best, disastrous at worst. But he would like to know her better, and it seemed, for once, she agreed.

  He found it a frightening prospect, but freeing as well, not having to answer to the immoral traditions of the Piccoli way of life. And this time he was determined to make it last.

  After hours of standing on her feet, Angel made her painful walk to the car she shared with Cassie. In the narrow ticket booth by the Ferris wheel, there hadn’t been a stool on which to sit, though there was room for one. She enjoyed the lively music that rang through the evening, hour upon hour, and the children’s happy laughter and squeals, but she envied those customers who sat in the little hanging cars. She would have been content to sit on the ground by the time she closed. At least the living lot wasn’t far.