Coal River (13 page)

A crazy-sounding chuckle escaped his lips. “After this little stunt, they won’t care. But don’t worry. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you with Miss Sylvia down at the Lehigh Hotel. She knows how to help women with nowhere to go. I’m sure she’d be happy to take in a fresh young thing like you.”

Emma dug her fingernails into her palms. “Aunt Ida won’t let you kick me out,” she said. “She wants my help, and my income from the Company Store.”

“I don’t care what she wants. I’m the man of the house and what I say goes!”

“I wonder if you’ll still be the man of the house after I tell her about that young girl I saw you groping behind the dance hall on the Fourth of July? What was her name again? Charlotte Gable? Isn’t her father a friend of yours?”

He cast a murderous look at her. “Why you conniving little . . .” he hissed. “Tell your aunt whatever you want. She knows you’re nothing but a liar. She always knew you weren’t telling the truth about what happened with your brother, trying to blame Percy the whole time. It’s your fault Albert is dead, and we all know it. Ida won’t believe a thing you say. If you try to tell her anything, it will only prove you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

Emma went rigid. A memory flashed in her mind—her aunt on the icy riverbank, hugging a sobbing Percy to her bosom, wagging a finger at Emma. When Emma said Albert fell through the ice because Percy took her locket, her aunt slapped her across the face. After all, she pointed out, Percy had run to get help while Emma sat on the riverbank doing nothing. Her aunt warned her to never say anything of the sort, ever again, and she never did. Uncle Otis was right. No matter what, Aunt Ida would always side with her husband and son. If Emma tried to tell her about Charlotte, once she found out Emma had gone up to the mine, she’d just accuse her of starting trouble. And that would be reason enough to send her to the poorhouse. Or worse, to an asylum.

“I’m not a liar,” Emma said, nearly choking on her anger. “And someday, somehow, the truth will come out. About my brother, about this mine, and about you!”

Before her uncle could respond, she stormed away, her body trembling with fury. The miners cheered behind her. To her surprise, when the breaker boys saw her leave, they joined in.

“I’m warning you,” her uncle yelled after her. “Mind your own business and stay away from the mine, or you’ll be out on the street!”

Maybe she was fooling herself, thinking anyone in Coal River would want her help. Who did she think she was anyway? And what made her think Michael wanted her to be the breaker boys’ savior? Maybe guilt was making her imagine things.

Instead of going up the miners’ village to look for Michael and Tala, she headed home, her legs like stone. Suddenly, she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl under her bedcovers and go to sleep.

CHAPTER 10

T
he morning after her confrontation with Uncle Otis at the mine, Emma hurried into Percy’s office, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no customers were coming into the store. Percy was out back, unloading a delivery wagon full of mops, washtubs, irons, and brooms. The door between the main floor and the stock room was open, and Percy’s conversation with the driver drifted in from outside, along with the thump of boxes and other goods being stacked on the wooden floor.

With her heart in her throat, she went to Percy’s desk and opened the bottom left-hand drawer. She pulled out the store ledger, clasped it to her chest, and returned to the office door, checking again to make sure no one was coming. Then she darted back into the office and searched the drawers for the PAID stamp. When she finally found it, wedged between a roll of twine and a box of paper clips, she opened the ledger to a bookmarked page and scanned the names, trying to remember who had young children and needed the most help.

The bell over the front door chimed. Emma’s stomach flip-flopped. She paused for a second, then took a deep breath and marked a miner’s bill PAID. She skipped a page, marked two more paid, then skipped two pages and marked three more. After eight names she stopped, afraid that if she marked too many, it would look suspicious. Out in the store, Aunt Ida called for Percy. Emma shoved the stamp and the ledger back into the desk and straightened, running her shaky hands over her skirt and apron. She blew out a long breath and hurried to the office door.

“He’s out back,” she told her aunt. “Unloading stock.”

“What were you doing in the office?” Aunt Ida said. “You’re supposed to be watching the store.”

Emma tried to keep her voice even. “I was looking for a clean apron.”

Aunt Ida looked her up and down, her nose wrinkled. “Your apron looks fine. Now do your job. You’ve caused enough trouble around here.”

Emma made her way over to the cash register and forced a smile. “Is there anything I can help you with?” she said.

Aunt Ida rummaged through her handbag, pulled out a slip of paper, and handed it to Emma. “I’m having a birthday dinner for your uncle this weekend,” she said. “I need you to gather everything on this list. The poor man has been under an awful lot of strain lately, so I’m not sparing any expense. And after what you pulled yesterday, I figured the least you can do is help prepare for the party. Just add everything to our weekly bill and bring it home when you get out of work. Percy can put it on our monthly tab. And don’t go anywhere but home and work. If I hear about you strolling around town or going anyplace else you’re not supposed to go, I’ll lock you in your room until you’ve learned your lesson! Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Aunt Ida opened the paper fan hanging from her wrist and waved it in front of her red face, her lips set in a firm and self-righteous line. “You’re lucky I didn’t let your uncle after you last night, young lady. He was fit to be tied! I haven’t seen him that angry in a long, long time. I hate to think what he might have done. But you better understand one thing. The only reason I’m protecting you is because you’re my sister’s daughter. I can’t promise that’ll work all the time, so you better straighten up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emma said again.

Emma had forced herself to sound more meek than she felt, and as soon as her aunt left, she hooked a wicker basket over her arm and moved through the store, gathering the items on Aunt Ida’s list: canned peas, two pounds of butter, a side of bacon, a tin of cinnamon, dried beans, five pounds of sugar. For nearly every item on the list, she took one extra, except for the larger things like the smoked ham and the ten-pound bag of potatoes. When she was finished, she added the food to Aunt Ida’s bill and packed it in paper bags.

When she got home that evening, she put the food from the list away in the kitchen and pantry, but hid the extras behind tins of flour and oatmeal, or inside clean kettles and pots. Cook had finished preparing meals for the day, so there was little chance of anyone finding it. But even if the woman found the extra food, Emma would just say she was daydreaming and somehow put things away in the wrong spot. Cook knew better than to question Aunt Ida’s decisions if she thought there were too many provisions for the party, and she would never tell anyone about Emma’s mistake.

Later that evening, when it came time for Aunt Ida to do the nightly Bible readings with Otis and Percy in the dining room, Emma said she was tired and wanted to retire early. Then she snuck the extra food up to her room. After midnight, when everyone was asleep, she crept out of the house and went up to the miners’ village, where she left the groceries on the doorsteps of the poorest-looking shacks.

CHAPTER 11

T
he red, yellow, and blue posters for Professor Sid Roscoe’s Traveling Carnival and Freak Show appeared either very late Saturday night or early Sunday morning, while most of the village was asleep. Someone had pasted the advertisements from the north end of Main Street to the far end of Railroad Avenue. They were on the soot-stained clapboards of the Pennsylvania Boarding House and Hotel, Herrick’s Apothecary, Abe’s Livery, the post office, the Company Store, and every other weathered utility pole, dotting the dust-covered town with bright blocks of color.

Despite the sudden appearance of a much-needed rain, young and old gathered around the vivid posters, oohing and ahhing beneath their umbrellas at images of Ferris wheels and merry-go-rounds. They stared, slack-jawed, at pictures of the bearded lady, the two-headed man, and the lion-faced boy. The breaker boys ran from one advertisement to the next, pushing and shoving to get a closer look, their wide-eyed faces speckled with raindrops and leftover coal dust. At the Pennsylvania Boarding House and Hotel, the proprietor shooed a group of boys off the porch when they collected beneath the roof to smoke cigarettes and examine the poster of a mermaid lady.

The rain had not stopped by the time church ended, but it was slackening. It tapped on Emma’s umbrella, and she was grateful for the coolness it brought to the air as it washed coal dust from windows and sidewalks and store canopies. Thankfully, Uncle Otis and Aunt Ida were attending a fellowship luncheon at Sally Gable’s house, which gave her and Percy a little over an hour of freedom. To her surprise, she was allowed to walk home, as long as she promised to be there when her aunt and uncle returned.

Stopping to examine a poster on the side of the livery, she wondered if the breaker boys would be allowed to attend the carnival. It was only scheduled to be in town on Friday and Saturday, both days when the colliery was normally running. She couldn’t imagine Mr. Flint stopping production so his employees could have a little fun, but she wondered if the carnival owners could be persuaded to stay open one more day.

She smiled thinly, remembering the first fair her parents took her to in Central Park. The sun had been shining in a cobalt blue sky, and her parents bought her a strawberry ice cream cone. She was too afraid to go on the Ferris wheel or inside the house of mirrors, but she loved the carousel and the games of chance. She remembered feeling happier than she had in a long time. The only thing missing was Albert.

But a poster farther down Main Street wrecked the enjoyment of her memories. When she saw it, she gasped. Staring back at her from the brown and red placard on a utility pole was Lionel, the Camel-Legged Boy. He looked about four years old, and was wearing nothing but a pair of undershorts. His belly protruded more than normal, and his big, brown eyes were filled with misery. His knees were bent backward, opposite of how they were supposed to go, which made his legs look like those of a camel. Emma gathered her collar beneath her chin and hurried along the sidewalk, struggling to push a new image from her mind—a young breaker boy on a freak show poster, his skin black, his fingers raw and bleeding, his legs gone. The agony on his face was almost more than she could take.

 

On the morning of the opening day for Professor Sid Roscoe’s Traveling Carnival and Freak Show, Aunt Ida urged Emma to hurry up and finish her chores so they could go into town. Percy had been instructed to give Emma the day off from the store so she could accompany her aunt to the carnival. Not only did Aunt Ida refuse to attend the festivities alone, she had also decided it was an opportunity for Emma to make up for the trouble she’d caused at the mine. After that fiasco, the townsfolk needed to see that Emma had been reined in and properly reprimanded. From now on she would be quiet and demure, and she would behave like a proper young lady. Emma would have preferred to work at the Company Store.

But shortly before seven, just as Emma and Ida were preparing to eat breakfast, Uncle Otis returned to the house in a fury, slamming the back door and stomping into the dining room.

“What are you doing here?” Aunt Ida said. “Is something wrong?

“We had to shut down and send everyone home!” Uncle Otis said. He threw his dirty gloves on the floor, then went to the sideboard and filled a tumbler with whiskey.

“What happened?” Aunt Ida said.

Uncle Otis slugged down the whiskey in four noisy gulps. When it was gone, he wiped his mouth, refilled the glass, and looked at his wife with angry eyes. “They sabotaged the breaker!”

“Who did?” Aunt Ida said.

“Those goddamned breaker boys!”

“Why on Earth would they do that?” Aunt Ida said.

“Why the hell do you think? So they can go to the carnival!” Uncle Otis shook his head and glared at his wife. “I swear, sometimes you don’t have a brain in your head!”

Emma dropped her eyes to the napkin in her lap, worried her aunt and uncle would see the pleased look on her face.

“Don’t you talk to me like that, Otis Walter Shawcross!” Aunt Ida said. “I know you’re upset, but there’s no need to be short!”

Uncle Otis pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut with a grimace. After a long moment, he let go and straightened. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice tight. “We can’t afford to lose production time right now.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” Aunt Ida said. She went around the table and put a hand on her husband’s arm. “I know it’s frustrating. But I, for one, am delighted you had to shut down for the day. I don’t get to see nearly enough of you.” She pulled out his chair and led him to it. “Now, sit down, have some breakfast, and you’ll feel better. After that, you can take me down to the carnival and buy me a candy apple. We can ride the Ferris wheel, just like we did on our first date. You remember our first date, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Uncle Otis slumped into his chair. He took a gulp of whiskey and put the tumbler on the table. Aunt Ida called for Cook to bring more coffee, sat back down, and slid the platter of sausage and corn muffins in her husband’s direction.

Despite her dislike of Aunt Ida, Emma couldn’t help thinking how pathetic she was. Did she coddle her tyrant husband because she truly loved him, or was it all an act because his money supported her lavish lifestyle? Either way, it was sad. And Emma would never understand it.

Emma took a muffin from the plate and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get washed up and head into town. I want to see what the carnival is all about.”

“You can’t go alone,” her aunt said. “It’s not proper!”

“I’m sure I’ll find someone to befriend,” Emma said. “Captain Bannister will probably be lurking around. Or maybe I’ll run into Charlotte Gable.” She looked at Uncle Otis, hoping to get a reaction. It didn’t work. He was someplace else, his face dark and angry.

“Oh, what a lovely idea!” Aunt Ida said. “Charlotte would be a perfect friend for you. She is a real lady!”

“I’ll be sure to ask her for guidance,” Emma said, and left the room.

 

The village green was filled with white tents, carnival rides, balloon-carrying clowns, and strings of triangular blue, orange, and yellow flags. The townspeople meandered along the midway, crowding the concession stands and games of chance, stopping to hear a carnival barker hawk the wonders inside the freak show tents.

Grateful to be on her own for the day, Emma strolled through the excited throng, watching the rich of Coal River buy balloons and cotton candy for their children, making her way around rowdy clusters of breaker boys who were waiting in line to ride the Ferris wheel and merry-go-round. The air was filled with calliope music, laughter, raised voices, clapping, and the smell of roasted peanuts and candy apples. Beneath a yellow and white awning, a group of breaker boys shared a box of popcorn, passing the container back and forth. Beside them, two other breaker boys sat at a battered table sharing a scoop of ice cream in a hand-rolled cone. The older boy gripped the cone with both hands, his soot-stained fingers covered with sticky white drips, while the younger one watched with eager eyes. His hands were wrapped in bloodstained gauze. The older boy took a few licks of the ice cream, then held it out for the younger boy to take a turn.

On the west side of the village green, a parade of canvas tents lined the grass opposite the rides and games of chance, the entire row fronted by oversized banners painted with colorful images of the marvels waiting inside—the Giant Rat, the Living Mermaid, the Three-legged Boy, the Viking Giant. A man in a white top hat stood on a wooden stage at the center of the tents, shouting above the gathering crowd.

“That’s right, folks!” he barked. “We’re going to have a free show here! A free show! Gather around, ladies and gentlemen, and see what we’re going to do! This is the one your neighbors have been talking about! We’re going to bring out the fire-eater, the snake girl, the midgets! Watch the doorway—here they come! Keep your eyes wide open! You don’t want to miss any of it!”

Emma stopped to watch, twisting her drawstring purse between her fingers, a strange mixture of curiosity and fear swirling beneath her rib cage. On one hand, she wanted to see if there really was such a thing as a mermaid or a giant rat. On the other, she worried the sight of a three-legged boy or a snake girl would give her nightmares. There was enough heartbreak and sadness in Coal River to last a lifetime; she certainly didn’t need to seek out more.

“I’m going to wake up the sweet little fat lady from Fort Lauderdale!” the man said. “My God, is she ever fat! It takes four men to hug her and a boxcar to lug her! She’s going to do a little dance for you, and once she does, the whole tent shakes!” He spread out his arms, looking back and forth down the row of tents, first to one side and then the other. “To my left and right, you’ll see the freaks and the strange people inside these tents, all alive, all able to talk and answer your questions! This is not an illusion, folks! But you’ve got to see it to believe it! I want you to see the magician, the electric girl, and all the other action!” Then he stopped and put his hands in the air, waving them back and forth and shaking his head as if suddenly changing his mind. “No, no,” he said. “I know how hard you work for your money! So I’ll tell you what. Today we’re going to do something special! Our ticket taker is setting a timer for three minutes, and we’re going to let all of you in! All of you nice people who are standing here listening to me, we’re going to let you in to see the show at half price! We have wonders and curiosities suitable for all sensibilities. So step right up before time runs out!”

Emma breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the man wasn’t going to bring out the freaks after all. He was just trying to pull the crowd closer, to pique their curiosity. She stepped backward as the onlookers surged forward, like cattle on their way to feed. When she turned to make her way toward the concession stands, someone gently squeezed her elbow. She spun around, hoping it wasn’t Frank Bannister.

It was Clayton Nash.

Remembering their last exchange up at the miners’ village, her shoulders tensed. At the same time, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was happy to see him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said with a grin. Thankfully, the flash of anger she’d seen in his eyes the other day was gone. “Where is your chaperone, young lady?”

Her cheeks grew warm. “I must have lost her.”

He gestured toward the freak show tents, bowing slightly. “May I accompany you inside?”

“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d rather not.

“Are you sure? It’s quite a spectacle!”

She shook her head again and started walking, her eyes on the ground.

He followed. “May I walk with you?”

She nodded, and clasped her purse in front of her. Then she let go of her purse and clasped it again, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands and arms. She didn’t want to brush against Clayton’s hand accidentally, or make him think she was waiting for him to take her arm. “So you’ve been inside the freak show?” she said at last.

“It was a long time ago. The last time the carnival was here, I was eleven.”

“Did you see the mermaid?”

He laughed. “I don’t think they had a mermaid back then.”

“What about the others?” she said. “The three-legged boy? The giant?”

He stopped and pointed back at the tent. “Are you sure you don’t want to see for yourself? My treat?”

“No, no,” she said. “I was just curious. I mean, I was wondering if they were real.”

He shrugged and started walking again. “Well, the people I saw were real, all right. But I don’t know if some of the sights inside the tents were a trick of the eye or what. Last time, I saw a two-headed man, and I’ll never forget it. I even remember what he was wearing. A white shirt, a blue bow tie, pinstripe trousers, and a shiny red vest. He was sitting in a wingback chair, smoking a cigar and looking back at people. He moved the cigar from one mouth to the other, drawing on it with one set of lips and blowing smoke out with the other. And all of his eyes moved left or right, or up and down, at the same time. It gave me nightmares for weeks.”

She shivered. “Don’t tell me any more. I don’t want to know.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Shall we do something fun to take your mind off it? Maybe we should ride the Ferris wheel.”

Just then, Jack and Sawyer—the orphan and the breaker boy who were watching Clayton when he was arrested at the dance hall—came running toward them. They were laughing and excited, their smiling faces sticky with cotton candy.

“Can I have a nickel to go to the freak show?” Jack said.

“Did you spend your money already?” Clayton said.

Jack dropped his chin, shoved his hands into his pockets, and scuffed his shoe in the dirt. “Yes.”

“Well then, “Clayton said. “You know the answer. I told you not to spend it so fast.”