In Search of a Memory (Truly Yours Digital Editions)

by Griffin, Pamela

  His mouth dropped open.

  She nodded in emphasis. “She should know, Roland. She should know if there’s a predator out there who might come to the carnival, in order to be prepared for whatever happens next. And she can tell her son if she feels there is a need.”

  He let out a harsh breath followed by a mild oath. “You’re right. I’ll tell her. Then I’ll go.”

  “How? By train? They’ll find you for sure. No, Roland. If you leave now, it could be the end of all you wanted. To break away from your family and what they stand for.”

  He looked at her curiously. “Why should you care? Ever since we met, all you’ve wanted is for me to steer clear of you. Now that opportunity has arrived, and you want me to stay? Why?”

  She blinked, taken off guard, her gaze dropping to the ground. She seemed to realize she still held his arm and released it, her manner almost shy. “I… don’t know.” She looked up again, determined. “Yes, I do. I don’t want to see you get hurt either. So I guess now the shoe’s back on the other foot.”

  “You, playing my guardian angel?” he asked softly, still trying to grasp the sudden switch in her feelings.

  “Yeah.” She grinned. “If you want to call it that. Would you like me to go with you to talk to Mama?”

  He cocked his brow. “Don’t trust me to stick around?” Such words, delivered to Angel of all people, seemed incredible. He couldn’t understand her change of heart. Thrown into the mix of danger, she hadn’t pushed him away or fled.

  “I just thought you might like some support.”

  Again she surprised him, and he realized he wanted her beside him more than anything. He managed a faint grin. “Yeah, I would.”

  For the time being he would honor her wishes. But their near escape made him realize that in order to do what he needed and become his own man while severing family ties, he would have to find a place where no one could locate him.

  He withheld a groan, wondering if such an asylum existed anywhere on the planet.

  nine

  Angel watched Mama Philena slowly nod, her eyes steady, not one change in her stolid expression as Roland finished informing her of the facts.

  “You don’t seem all that surprised.” He regarded her with disbelief.

  “With what? That you’re a Piccoli? Or that your grandfather sent his men to hunt you down?”

  “Either. Both.” Huffing a confused breath, lifting his hands, he shook his head in bewilderment.

  “I knew you were hiding something the moment I saw you. Remember”—she smiled and pointed to her temple—“I can read a person well. That said, I think you should stay.”

  “That’s what I told him,” Angel said, relieved, and Mama turned her smile on her.

  “Maybe I didn’t make clear to you the dangers,” Roland explained patiently. “If I stay, my presence at your carnival could put everyone at risk.”

  “Maybe you don’t understand the power of God,” Mama responded just as tolerantly. “He brought you here; I’m sure of it now. And whatever His reasons, He can handle the situation.”

  Both Angel and Roland stared, speechless.

  Mama chuckled. “Guess you two don’t know much about Him, from the looks on your faces. That, too, can change.” Her smile was secretive, the twinkle in her eyes somehow comforting.

  “I have a friend, Nettie,” Angel said. “She feels the same way you do and spoke to me about the Bible, though I never understood half of what she said. But she said the same thing—that I should trust God to work things out. That He always would.”

  Mama nodded. “It takes experience sometimes to understand the root of things people tell you. But once you’ve seen the Almighty at work—and by the way, He doesn’t just have that name as an exaggerated hook to draw in the crowds, like some performers here do—you’ll know what I say is genuine.”

  Roland cleared his throat. “I should talk this over with Mahoney and Pearson. Neither of you seem to understand the dangers. These are trained men. With guns. And without scruples.”

  “No reason to talk to the boys.” Mama, for the first time since Angel met her, looked sheepish. “This is the time for confessions? Well, all right, I have one, too. The carnival is mine. I own it.”

  The resulting silence came brief but so thick Angel felt wrapped inside it.

  “My husband left it to me,” Mama continued, “but I let my son run things. It gave his life direction again. After his wife died, so young, he needed something to set his mind to, and I’m no good with figures and such, so it was the perfect arrangement. His partner is my nephew—it’s all a family affair.” She grinned. “I don’t broadcast that I’m the true owner—only those few carnies who’ve been with us the longest know—but I have controlling interest and all important decisions go through me first. So, since this is my carnival, I say you stay. Now…”

  She clapped her hands and stood, a sign that the urgent meeting Roland had requested was over. “We have work to do if we’re going to have things up and running by tonight. Get busy. Roland, go help the other men raise the tents. Angel, you can help me.”

  Angel and Roland stared at each other. Clearly he was also at a loss at being so quickly reassured, dismissed, and assigned orders.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Mama asked Roland. “The tents aren’t going to erect themselves.”

  “Talk to you later?” He posed his soft question to Angel, and she nodded. He smiled. “All right then. Ladies.” He tipped his hat to them both and left.

  Angel watched him go.

  Mama chuckled from behind, and Angel heard her mutter “Oh no. Not a thing going on there at all!”

  Feeling heat flush her cheeks, Angel didn’t dare face Mama.

  Over the next few hours Angel found out what a strong support the woman was to the carnival. No job was beneath her. If she had the stamina, she did it, and Angel helped. They aided carnies in setting up the insides of their tents, fed the animals, scrubbed cutlery and dishes when Millie complained of feeling poorly, hoisted poles through metal rungs secured at the ends of banners to fly high overhead, set up tables and booths, shoveled in dirt to pack and flatten a dangerous pit that was part of the midway where a customer might fall—and when Angel was sure nothing was left to be done, Mama surprised her and took her on another round of odd and sundry chores. Angel was speechless with awe at Mama’s tenacity mixed with a strength she never would have suspected in a petite, reed-thin woman in her sixties.

  With her cheeks sore from blowing air into balloons for one of the game booths, Angel took a cooling drink of cream soda and observed how each of the carnies treated Mama with respect. Even those who wanted little to do with anyone else gave Mama a listening ear.

  The afternoon’s labor helped Angel forget the morning’s fright. Having blown up the last of the colorful balloons and handed them to Fletcher, the agent for that booth, who pinned them to a board where darts would be thrown by paying customers,

  Angel found her hands suddenly unoccupied. Mama stood a short distance away, giving advice to one of the carnies who’d sought her out. And with irritating ease Angel’s thoughts returned to her confusion over Roland.

  He wasn’t the only one flummoxed by her change of heart. She couldn’t understand either what led to her desperation for him to stay. But when she suddenly ran smack into the dangers he had daily lived and realized he was ready to sacrifice all his hopes, perhaps even his life, to protect her and everyone there, the thought of something terrible happening to him made her blood run cold. She’d heard that expression before, but she’d never understood it until she shivered from the chill that raised gooseflesh on her skin when he told her he would leave and she’d never see him again.

  At that bizarre moment his words she had long wished to hear became the dread she hoped never to face. She didn’t want him to go; she wanted him to stay, though she restrained from delving too far into the reasons why.

  Could life get any more insanely complicated? />
  “Finished with the balloons?” Mama approached, her face flushed rosy from work and sun. “You’d best get to Millie’s tent and help with the food. With that stomach upset of hers, you might need to take over.”

  Angel hid a wince. She hoped that watching the cook through the past week would be enough to manage on her own. After one trial effort of Angel’s work, Millie never asked her to prepare food again, except for the toast, which Angel did well.

  “I enjoyed working with you today, Mama.” Much more than sitting on a stool selling tickets. “It was fascinating to see how everything is done from all angles and be able to help those who needed it.”

  Mama tilted her head to the side. “I think you have a servant’s heart, Angel. It’s what I love most about my carnival, helping those who need a hand.”

  “We finished sooner than I expected. I understood it would take most of the day.”

  “Oh, there’s still plenty of work to be done. Next I’ll be headed to the Tent of Wonders to see if anyone needs a hand there. Don’t like calling them freaks.”

  Angel’s heart stopped beating. “Can I come with you? I’m really not a good cook.” She hoped her confession would trigger the invitation she had long desired.

  “Any specific reason you want to visit there?” Mama’s expression grew guarded. “Even though Tucker thinks he owns them and displays them like cattle for money, I’m protective of all my family. They’re people with souls, not creatures to be constantly gawked at. They get enough of that when the carnival is open to the public.”

  Angel had asked Cassie and other longtime workers about her mother but had lost hope of anyone knowing her on her fourth day there. She realized she’d never told Mama, since she rarely spent time in her company. “My mother was one of those so-called freaks.” She winced at the word, also not liking it. “A bearded lady named Lila. I’m hoping one day to find her.” The words, once so hard to say, now spilled off her tongue.

  Mama stood frozen, but Angel was growing accustomed to this kind of reaction. Shock was better than the slight repulsion or blatant curiosity she’d also witnessed from those few carnies she’d told, whose gazes then intently scoured her jaw, as if searching for some sign of the imperfection her mother suffered.

  “Is that a fact?” Mama breathed softly. “Well now, who would’ve guessed…?”

  “I’ve asked around but haven’t had any luck. I’m still hoping to find someone who knew her or of her, maybe even worked where she did, since I discovered a lot of carnies here have come from other places.”

  “Yes. I’ve hired a number of performers who come from shows like mine.” Mama stared at Angel as if making a decision. “All right then. Come with me. Jezebel,” she said in passing to a young carny, “help Millie with supper. Let me know if she’s feeling worse.”

  “Sure will, Aunt Philena.” She nodded in curiosity to Angel before she took off running, her long black braids bouncing as she went.

  “Jezzie is my nephew’s daughter,” Mama explained as they walked, and she threw Angel a sidelong smile. “Like I said, we’re all one big family here. Those not by blood grafted in by the unique talents each has to offer.”

  Angel sucked in a nervous breath as Mama swept through the tent, then she followed. Seven people worked inside, one man looking less than pleased to see the newcomers.

  “Everything’s taken care of.” A gruff-looking character with the stump of a cigar sticking out of his pudgy lips, he gave Angel the willies. “Don’t need your services today.”

  “Speak for yourself, Tucker.” A high girlish voice that Angel recognized came from her right. She watched Posey move eagerly forward and gave the woman a genuine smile, happy to see her again.

  “Hi, Posey. How are plans for the wedding coming along?”

  Mama looked from one to the other in surprise. “You two know each other?”

  “You could say we ran into each other—almost,” Angel joked, and Posey laughed.

  “I’m having trouble with my gown.” She held up her short, thick fingers. “Can’t hold a flimsy needle well, but I’m managing.”

  “I could help.” Angel felt all eyes on her and blushed. “I’m somewhat handy with a needle. I’ve sewn my own dresses and my cousins’, too.”

  “That would be swell!” Posey fairly bubbled. “Maybe you could help Rita and Rosa out, too—that is, if you wouldn’t mind?”

  “It’s what I came for. To help.” She glanced at Mama, and the woman smiled and nodded.

  “Come along then, and meet the rest of the bunch.” Posey took Angel’s hand, pulling her toward the back of the large tent. “You’ve seen Jim at the cook tent, I’m sure.” Angel smiled in greeting toward the giant, who tipped his hat and inclined his head in polite acknowledgment. “And that’s Gunter.” She motioned to a brown-skinned man covered in tattoos and piercings; even his eyelids had pictures on them. At her uncertain nod, he inclined his head slowly, unsmiling, his black eyes wary. “And you’ve met my darling prince.”

  “Hullo again.” Darrin waved a casual, two-fingered salute from his brow.

  “And this is Rita and Rosa.”

  Two pretty young women with bright green eyes and short black curls sat on chairs pressed close to each other. Angel blinked, realizing the women were joined at the shoulders.

  “I’m Rita.” The one on Angel’s left offered her right hand.

  “And I’m Rosa.” She offered her left.

  Angel shook each hand in turn, trying not to stare at the area that made them different.

  “They’re not seamstresses either,” Posey explained. “And they’ve run into a problem for tonight’s show.”

  “We tore our costume. See?” Rita sadly displayed a long tear in the shimmering crimson skirt.

  “Speak for yourself, sister. If you’d not been so quick to move…”

  “And if you’d not been so slothful to stay…”

  “We would not be in this predicament,” they finished together.

  Posey tugged at Angel’s skirt and grinned when she looked her way. “They’re like this all the time. Don’t pay any attention.”

  Angel smiled at Posey then directed her nervous gaze to the twins. “If you, um, have a needle and thread, I can sew it up.”

  “Would you?” Rita asked. “You’re an angel!”

  At that both Angel and Posey laughed, and Angel’s tension drained away.

  “Did I say something funny?” Rita looked at Rosa, who shrugged her free shoulder.

  “Ladies, this is Angel,” Posey explained. “The girl I told you about.”

  “Ooo—the one who came here with that handsome young man,” Rosa exclaimed.

  Angel didn’t bother to correct her, weary of the undertaking.

  “I hear you’re looking for your mother,” Rita said, enlightenment coming into her eyes. “Lila.”

  Angel’s heartbeat quickened. “You know her?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “We joined Mahoney’s carnival a little over a year ago.”

  “But another carny who once worked with us mentioned Bruce, a strongman who married a bearded lady named Lila, from another carnival. He mentioned she had a little girl. I’m guessing that was you.”

  Angel nodded, a twinge in her heart. “Do you know where I can find him? The other carny?”

  Both girls shook their heads. “No, sorry,” Rita said, “Abe left about the time we joined up.”

  Angel nodded and managed a smile, trying not to allow yet another sting of disappointment to wound her. If Abe knew them and he once worked here, there might be others who also did.

  With quiet thanks, accepting the needle, thread, and a stool that Darrin brought her, Angel set to work, skillfully mending the rip. As the three women talked, she found herself easily entering into their conversation. She hadn’t known how she would react upon meeting those who worked inside this tent. After having her desire met, at first she felt awkward, not wanting to be rude, but the curiosity of human
nature caused her eyes to stray more than once to the differences that set them apart. But as the minutes passed, she relaxed, perhaps not able to ignore their oddities, as she would have wished, but able to accept these girls, just as she accepted and enjoyed their company. How strange that on such short acquaintance she felt closer to them than she’d ever felt with her cousins.

  She would have liked to stay and chat longer, but Mama, having finished treating a boil on Gunter’s leg, announced to Angel they had more work to do.