Kiss an Angel

by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  When they’d arrived at this new lot in a High Point, North Carolina, strip mall, the trailer hauling the elephants hadn’t yet appeared, so she’d stayed in the truck for a short nap. Two hours later, she’d awakened with a stiff neck and a headache.

  As she reached the top of the ramp, she saw that Digger had nearly finished mucking out the trailer. Mixed with a sense of relief, she felt a stab of guilt. That was her job. “I’ll finish up for you.”

  “The worst part’s done.” He spoke like a man who had long ago grown accustomed to getting the short end of life.

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  He gave a sniff that told her he’d wait and see.

  From her vantage point at the top of the ramp, she had a good view of the new site located between a Pizza Hut and a gas station. Most of the performers, Alex had told her, preferred the smooth, regular surface of a parking lot to grass, but setting up on asphalt also meant that the holes left by the stakes had to be repaired before they left.

  As the stake driver thumped rhythmically in the background, she looked toward the backyard and saw Heather sitting in a lawn chair outside the trailer, with Sheba standing behind her putting a French braid in the teenager’s hair. Yesterday she’d caught glimpses of Sheba helping Heather with her gymnastics. She’d also seen the circus owner patching up one of the workers and trying to console the Lipscomb’s six-year-old after he’d taken a fall. Sheba Quest seemed to be full of contradictions: a wicked witch with Daisy, earth mother with everyone else.

  A feisty trumpeting brought her up short, and she looked down to see Tater standing at the bottom of the ramp gazing adoringly up at her through his ridiculously curly lashes.

  Digger cackled. “Your boyfriend’s come to visit you.”

  “He’s going to be disappointed. I’m not wearing perfume.”

  “ ‘Spect he’ll have to figger that out for hisself. Take him over with the rest, will ya? They all need to be watered.” He jerked his head. “Bull hook’s right there.”

  She gazed at the object leaning against the side of the truck with loathing. At the bottom of the ramp, Tater trumpeted again, then began to turn in a tight circle, performing just as he did in the center ring. When he stopped, he lifted one leg and then the other in his baby’s tap dance. Unless she was very much mistaken, he was showing off for her.

  “What am I going to do with you, Tater? Don’t you realize you scare me to death?”

  Gathering her courage, she moved gingerly to the bottom of the ramp where she reached into the pocket of her jeans and gingerly extracted a withered carrot she’d found in the refrigerator and brought along just in case. Hoping he’d follow her if he knew she had food, she held it out with a trembling hand.

  He extended his trunk and took a delicate sniff, tickling her palm. She stepped back, using the carrot as bait to draw him toward the others. He snatched it from her hand and carried it to his mouth, where it disappeared.

  She watched in apprehension as his now empty trunk came toward her again. “N-no more food.”

  But it wasn’t food he wanted; it was perfume. He burrowed into the neck of her T-shirt searching for the scent he loved. “S-sorry, fella. I—”

  Swat! With a dramatic squall of betrayal, Tater swiped her with his trunk and knocked her to the pavement. She let out a yelp. At the same time, Tater lifted his head and announced her treachery to the world. No perfume!

  “Daisy, are you all right?” Alex materialized out of nowhere and crouched down next to her.

  “I’m okay.” She winced from the pain in her hip.

  “Damn it! You can’t allow an animal to keep doing that to you. Sheba told me he knocked you down yesterday.”

  Naturally Sheba couldn’t resist passing on a tidbit like that, Daisy thought, flinching as she shifted her weight.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Neeco strode toward them. “I’ll take care of this.”

  She sucked in her breath as he snatched up the bull hook. “No! Don’t hit him! It was my fault. I—” Ignoring the pain, she scrambled to her feet and leaped forward to put herself between Neeco and Tater, but she was too late.

  Horrified, she watched as Neeco struck the baby on the tender spot behind his ear. Tater squealed and backed away. Neeco advanced on him again, bull hook raised for a second blow.

  “That’s enough, Neeco.”

  She didn’t hear Alex’s soft words of warning because she was already throwing herself at Neeco’s back. “Don’t hit him again!” With a cry of indignation, she lunged for the bull hook.

  Startled, Neeco stumbled and then, regaining his balance, cursed and spun around. As she lost her grip on his shoulders, she felt herself slipping, but instead of falling to the pavement for the second time that day, Daisy felt Alex catch her under the arms. “Easy, there.”

  Sheba rushed up. “For God’s sake, Alex, we’ve got newspaper people on the lot.”

  As he set her back on her feet, Daisy braced herself for a lambasting. To her surprise, Alex turned to Neeco instead. “I think Tater got the point the first time.”

  Neeco stiffened. “You know as well as I do there’s nothing more dangerous than an elephant that’s turned on his handlers.”

  Daisy couldn’t hold her tongue. “He’s just a baby! And it was my fault. I wasn’t wearing perfume, and he got upset.”

  “Be quiet, Daisy,” Alex said softly.

  “He’s a one-ton baby.” Neeco’s lips narrowed. “I won’t let anybody who’s working for me get sentimental about the animals. We don’t ever take chances with safety. People’s lives are at stake, and the animals have to know who’s in charge.”

  All her frustration boiled over. “The animals’ lives have value, too! Tater didn’t ask to be stuck in this awful circus. He didn’t ask to be lugged all over the country in a smelly truck, to be chained and shackled and paraded around in front of a bunch of ignorant people. God didn’t create elephants to stand on their heads and do tricks. They were meant to roam free.”

  Sheba crossed her arms and lifted a sarcastic eyebrow. “Next thing you know, Alex, she’ll be throwing red paint at fur coats. Either control your wife or get her the hell out of my circus.”

  Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face as he met Sheba’s gaze. “Daisy’s supposed to be taking care of the elephants. From what I saw, she was doing her job.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Had he just defended her?

  Her pleasure faded as he turned back to her, tilting his head toward the trailer that had hauled the elephants. “It’s late, and it doesn’t look like you have the inside hosed down yet. Get back to work.”

  She turned away and, silently wishing all three of them in Hades, set about her job. She understood that if animals were going to travel with the circus, they had to be kept under control, but the very idea that they were being forced to behave in ways that went against their nature bothered her. Maybe she found their condition so disturbing because she felt as if she had something in common with them. Like the circus animals, she was held captive against her will, and, like them, her keeper had all the power.

  Sheba had almost reached the red wagon when Brady Pepper came up behind her. As much as Brady irritated Sheba, she couldn’t deny that he was good-looking with his olive skin and sharp, even features. Although she knew for a fact he was forty-two, his wiry hair was only lightly threaded with gray and his powerful acrobat’s body didn’t have an extra ounce of fat.

  “You sleepin’ with Neeco?” he said in that antagonistic fashion that never failed to set her teeth on edge.

  “None of your business.”

  “I’ll bet you are. He’s just the type you like best. Good looking and stupid.”

  “Go to hell.” Her irritation was piqued by the fact that she had slept with Neeco a few times at the beginning of the season. She’d quickly lost interest, however, and hadn’t felt any inclination to repeat the experience. She’d never let anyone suspect that sex was losing its appeal to
her.

  “With a guy like Neeco, you get to call all the shots, don’t you. Whereas with somebody like me . . .”

  “Somebody like you could never satisfy me.” Giving him a phony smile, she ran the tip of her fingernail over his deltoid, which was clearly outlined by his fitted tank top. “The showgirls say you can’t get it up anymore. Is that true?”

  Much to her annoyance, he failed to respond to her barb, laughing instead. “You got a viper’s tongue on you, Sheba Quest. One day it’s gonna get you in big trouble.”

  “I like trouble.”

  “I know you do. Especially the male variety.”

  She set off toward the red wagon, but instead of taking the hint, he fell into step beside her. The length of his stride, the set of his shoulders, everything about him announced that he thought he was God’s gift to women. He was also a dedicated male chauvinist, which meant she had to keep reminding him who was the boss. Still, as much as he aggravated her, he was the kind of performer she liked best: proud, hard-working, and honest. Beneath his rough exterior, he also had a generous nature, and unlike Alex Markov, there were no hidden depths to him.

  He ran his eyes over her as he always did. Brady never made a secret of the fact that he appreciated women, and despite his dalliances with youthful showgirls, he had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if she were still in her prime. Not that she’d ever let him know that. His sexy swagger couldn’t hide the fact that Brady was a Brooklyn butcher’s son without a drop of circus blood in his veins.

  “You and Heather been spending a lot of time together lately,” he said.

  “I braided her hair today, if that’s what you mean.”

  He caught her arm, pulling her to a stop. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’m talking about all that extra coaching you’ve been giving her.”

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t want you getting her hopes up. You know she doesn’t have what it takes to be a decent performer.”

  “Who says? You haven’t given her a fair chance.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been working with her since she got here, and she still stinks!”

  “Is it any wonder?”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you might be a great performer, but you’re a lousy teacher.”

  “Hell I am! I’m a great teacher.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest. “I taught my sons everything they know.”

  “Matt and Rob are as hard-headed as you. It’s one thing to teach two rowdy boys, but it’s another to work with a sensitive young girl. How can she learn anything with you snapping her head off all the time?”

  “What the hell do you know about sensitive young girls? From what I hear, you used to suck arsenic straight from your mother.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Try telling me your old man mollycoddled you when he was teaching you to do the triple.”

  “He didn’t have to mollycoddle me. I knew he loved me.”

  His mouth thinned into a belligerent line. “Are you saying I don’t love my daughter?”

  She slammed her hands on her hips. “You stupid jerk. Didn’t it ever occur to you that it’s more important for you to be Heather’s father now than her coach? If you’d stop pushing her so hard, she might be able to perform better.”

  “All of a sudden I’ve got fucking Ann Landers here.”

  “You watch your filthy mouth!”

  “Look who’s talking. I’m warning you, Sheba, don’t screw with Heather. She’s having a hard enough time as it is without you trying to turn her against me.”

  He stalked off, bristling with animosity.

  She watched him for a moment, then unlocked the door of the red wagon and stomped inside. She and Brady had rubbed each other wrong from the beginning, but there was also a powerful sexual awareness between them that kept her on guard. Brutal experience had taught her to be careful about the men she chose as lovers, and the day she’d married Owen Quest was also the day she’d committed herself to never again going to bed with a man she couldn’t control. She had a self-destructive streak when it came to men, and twice it had nearly destroyed her: first with Carlos Méndez and then, far more brutally, with Alex Markov.

  She’d made Carlos Méndez pay for what he’d done to her, and now she reminded herself that Alex had gotten his punishment, too. She went over to the window and saw Daisy Markov struggling with a bale of hay. Sheba almost felt sorry for her—if it had been anyone else, she would have—but Daisy was the instrument of Alex’s punishment. How humiliating this must be to him.

  She was almost certainly pregnant; there was no other reason for him to have married such a useless woman. But as much as she hated Alex, the circus meant everything to Sheba, and it seemed obscene that the blood of the Markovs—one of the most famous circus families in history—would be passed on through that pampered little thief. Every time she looked at her, Sheba wondered how she could have held her head up if the truth about Daisy hadn’t come out.

  Later, Daisy couldn’t remember how she endured the next week and a half as the circus meandered through North Carolina and then crossed over into Virginia. During the day, she and Alex were only together in the truck, and when he condescended to speak to her, she felt as if she were being pricked to death with icicles. They didn’t even share meals. Alex usually opened a can of something while she was in the bathroom getting ready for spec and then left a plate of food out for her while he dressed. He never asked what she wanted to eat or suggested she cook dinner for them, not that she had any energy left for cooking.

  Sometimes she thought she’d dreamed that passionate kiss they’d shared. They no longer even touched except on those occasions when she fell asleep in the truck and woke up snuggled against him. When that happened, she would jerk away, only to feel the sexual energy pulsing between them, as palpable as the breeze that blew through the truck.

  Or maybe it was just her imagination. Maybe she didn’t appeal to him at all. How could he find anyone attractive who had blistered hands, a sunburned nose, scabby elbows, and lived in filthy work clothes? Sometime in the past week, she’d stopped putting on makeup until she had to get ready for spec. During the day, she snagged her hair in a ponytail, with the uneven wisps that escaped the rubber band trailing down her neck and across her cheeks. In the space of two weeks, the grooming habits of a lifetime had been broken. She didn’t even know who she was when she looked into a mirror.

  And she was always exhausted. She fell asleep on the couch before midnight, but once Alex came into the trailer, it was nearly impossible for her to go back to sleep. She’d toss and turn for hours, finally tumbling into a fitful dreamlike state only to have him growl her awake long before she was rested. She was drained, confused, and incredibly lonely.

  Since everyone believed she was a thief, the members of the company continued to avoid her, and her relationship with the elephants hadn’t improved, either. Tater still acted as if she’d betrayed him. Several times Daisy had considered spraying herself with perfume, but she was more afraid of his affection than his dislike. When Neeco and Digger were around, the elephant left her alone, but if they weren’t in sight, he looked for opportunities to swat her, and he’d knocked her down so many times that she had bruises everywhere.

  The other baby elephants had quickly realized she was an easy mark, and she’d become the target for all their mischief. They sprayed her with water, bellowed at her, and swatted her if she got too close. Even worse was the way they waited until she was standing next to them before they did their personal business. Digger told her that as long as she refused to use the bull hook on them, she deserved what she got, but she wouldn’t beat them.

  Although she’d stayed away from Sinjun, she’d learned about him from listening to the others talk. He was an old tiger, about eighteen, with a reputation for being cranky. According to Digger, none of the trainers had ever been able to befriend him, and everyone regarde
d him as both unpredictable and dangerous.

  Just like her husband. Alex confused her so much she didn’t know what to think. As soon as she made up her mind that he was nothing more than a sadistic monster, he’d appear at the elephant truck with a new pair of work gloves or a baseball cap so she didn’t get sunburned. And more than once, he’d happened by just in time to wrestle the loaded wheelbarrow down the ramp for her. Most of the time, however, he simply gave her grief.

  It was an unseasonably hot day for mid-May. The temperature had soared well into the nineties, and the thick humidity made it difficult to breathe. They were playing in a parking lot again, this one in a small town south of Richmond, and the black asphalt intensified the heat. She’d been swatted twice already by the elephants, badly scraping her elbow the second time she fell. To make it worse, everybody in the circus seemed to be relaxing except her.

  Brady and Perry Lipscomb sat in the shade beneath the awning of the Pepper family’s Airstream, enjoying a cool beer and listening to a baseball game on the portable radio. Jill spritzed herself with water and lay back on a lounge chair with the newest issue of Cosmo. Even Digger was taking a nap in the shade.

  “Daisy, get your ass moving and do something with that hay!”

  Neeco shouted out his order from the doorway of the trailer the showgirls used, then draped his arm around Charlene’s shoulder. Ever since their confrontation over the bull hook, Neeco had been hostile. He gave her the worst jobs and kept her at them for long, backbreaking hours until Alex appeared and told him she’d worked enough for the day.

  As she began to move the hay, every muscle in her body burned. Her sweat-soaked T-shirt had a rip at the shoulder seam; filth covered her jeans; dirt, hay, and manure stuck to every inch of her damp skin. Her hair was matted to her scalp, and her grubby fingernails were as broken as her spirit.

  Across the lot, Sheba sipped something cool from an orange plastic tumbler and painted her toenails. Perspiration dripped in Daisy’s eyes, making them sting, but her hands were too dirty to wipe them clear.