House of Mirrors (23 page)

“Beats me what he’s up to.” Parinsky shrugged. “For all his jabbering, Jack doesn’t say much. I expect with all the cancellations and troubles lately, he’s just tense.”

“We all are.” Rafe nodded to Charlie, the trumpeter and candy butcher, who walked past with a sack of sugar slung over his shoulder. He waited until the man passed before continuing. “Never mind Treanor, then. I want to know what is behind the destruction. Perhaps it isn’t directed at me, but I believe it has roots in hatred. Strong emotion lies at its core.”

“Naw. Seems to happen too regularly, like the attacks are on a schedule. Know what I mean? Plus, there’s the fact that it’s not getting worse.”

Rafe frowned. “I’d say you’re wrong. The smashing of the mirrors is the most destructive act yet.”

The other man sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Maybe so.”

Parinsky admitting he could be wrong and Rafe might be right? Hell must have frozen over. Parinsky narrowed his eyes and pushed out his lips into a pouty attitude of concentration. “Still. My guess is there’s money behind all this.”

“You’re single-minded about wealth,” Rafe said. “You’d always guess there’d be money as a goal.”

Rather than getting offended and shouting or sneering, Parinsky shook his head as if Rafe’s comment was an annoying fly buzzing around him. He fished his flask from a pocket and took a pull, wiped his lips, and said, “Here’s what I’d bet. Someone’s getting paid or will eventually gain something from all this.”

They’d reached the back of Rafe’s wagon. “Care for a bite to eat?” Rafe offered. It felt odd to offer Parinsky refreshments, but it was even odder to see the man nod.

When they walked around the other side of the wagon, they stopped dead. Jonah sat on the top step.

Parinsky gave another derisive snort. “Maybe I ought to come back later.”

Jonah rose and smiled at Parinsky as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Rafe wondered if he’d only imagined that look of defeated anger on his face earlier. Which was real? He wasn’t sure. Jonah was nearly as fine an actor as himself.

“Don’t leave, Mr. Parinsky. I’m the intruder.” Jonah pushed past Rafe without looking at him.

Rafe should have welcomed the dignified way Jonah was moving away from him. Perhaps this moment was the clean end to their intimacy—Rafe’s goal. Instead he blurted, “No. Please don’t go.” He cleared his throat. “We’re just discussing the sabotage of the show.”

“Oh.” Jonah lost the air of studied nonchalance. He might be angry with Rafe, or hurt, but apparently he cared about the show too.

“Got any theories?” Parinsky took another pull on his flask.

Jonah folded his arms and stared at the trees in the distance for a long moment before shaking his head. “No.”

Rafe wondered if the hesitation meant something. “None? You’re our one witness.”

Jonah looked in his general direction but didn’t meet his eyes. “I wish I knew who was doing it or why, but I can’t help you, boss.” The sour, tight way he’d tucked the corners of his mouth told Rafe that Jonah was upset. He wouldn’t have noticed that sign in another man, or perhaps he wouldn’t have given a damn. Now Rafe wanted to grab those stiff shoulders and shake them. Surely Jonah understood why he’d said those things, why he’d had to deny their intimacy in response to Treanor.

“How about trying something new? I got my watch,” Parinsky said. “Maybe you’re a suggestible sort, Talbot.” He waved a finger back and forth slowly to indicate the motion of a swinging watch.

Jonah stared. “Do you mean hypnotism?”

“Certainly. Why not?”

Rafe was mildly surprised that the charlatan Parinsky believed there might be something worthwhile about hypnotism.

Jonah clearly did. He shook his head and looked pale. “No. Maybe later, sir. Not now.” He turned and walked away.

Rafe watched him go, wondering if they’d ever meet again. Of course they would. Why had Jonah come to his wagon? He wished he could run after him to find out—and knew he’d be a fool to do anything of the sort.

“Well, well. That’s certainly interesting. He seemed almost afraid of hypnotism,” Parinsky said. “He certainly acted like he’s got some big secret when I asked him about what he saw. The only witness too. Are we sure he’s not the one who’s done it all?”

Rafe suspected the secrets Jonah clung to had nothing to do with the show. “I’m sure.”

He fed Parinsky a sandwich and some of the liquor the man had sold him a month earlier. Neither of them had any new ideas, but at least Parinsky was making a begrudging effort to act as an ally. He smoked one of his foul cigars and left.

Thank God. Rafe needed to take action, and he needed to be alone. He ignored the emptiness at the pit of his stomach that seemed to be shaped like Jonah. He had bowed to the inevitable, and thinking he could put it off until autumn was self-indulgent. It would take only a little time to pack his belongings. There was no reason to hang about now that the decision had been made. Not that it was a real decision on his part. He’d been born into those other responsibilities even if he’d never believed the day would come when he’d have to shoulder them. Edward had always seemed invincible, filled with good fortune and pure luck, until it had all run out at once. And even if his mother would have only hard words for him, Rafe must return home at last as Lord Darkwell.

He walked to the little cooking area and decided to leave all the dishes, pots, and pans for Mindy, but there was the cup he’d given to Jonah that first night. Rafe smiled as he thought of how Jonah had sputtered and gasped with his first encounter of Parinsky’s brew. Later Jonah had laughed too, willing to mock himself. Rafe could see that mouth curled into a smile, or those same lips damp and hot, slightly parted with need—or drawn tight with hurt.

Rafe held the battered metal cup for a moment before tucking it into his leather satchel.

Chapter Twenty-one

Rafe owed him nothing, Jonah’d reminded himself as he listened to Rafe stand before the group and tell them Jonah wasn’t important to him. It wasn’t as if Rafe had tossed him to an angry mob to save his own skin. This denial shouldn’t hurt. Yet the words of indifference cut deeper than Rev. Burns’s lies. Dear Lord, he hadn’t known words could create such pain until Rafe spoke without so much as a glance in his direction. Jonah had held himself tight and waited for the announcement to be over, and afterward he walked to the boss’s wagon, determined to do something, whether it was slam Rafe to the ground or beg him for a kiss. He didn’t know what he wanted.

Yes, he did—to hear the truth from Rafe, even if the truth was “You were entertaining, but I never cared. Now you are a nuisance.” As long as the man looked into his eyes as he said it, Jonah could walk away. And then… Could he stay with the carnival? Life might be easier once Rafe left. Or perhaps his absence would make life in the traveling show unbearable.

But Parinsky’s presence had stopped the confrontation. Jonah walked away from Rafe’s wagon almost glad for having the kibosh put on his careening emotions. He felt like a fool for even thinking he could beg for love—and he’d lost the desire to slam his fist into Rafe’s face.

He returned to Sam’s trailer, sat in Sam’s oversize chair, and wondered if it was anger or sorrow that sent his blood pumping so hard, he trembled.

“We are none of us irreplaceable.” Jonah spoke Rafe’s words into the silence. He thought of Sam then of Rafe, and how much he’d miss them both. He shook his head. “Mr. Grimstone, you are either a liar or just terribly wrong about life.”

Several distant blasts of the master’s whistle announced that the carnival was about to move out. Jonah left the trailer to climb onto the wagon seat, take up the lead lines, and guide the horse into place in the queue.

It was almost midday—a late start but, following the upheaval of the previous night and Rafe’s big announcement, not surprising they were slow to move to the next town. Jonah waited for the next command and watched eagerly for the expected sight of Rafe riding past to check the procession of wagons. When he beheld Mindy instead, riding a piebald gelding and wearing the silver whistle on its cord around her neck, Jonah’s heart plummeted. Rafe had promised to stay with them until the next town and the nearest train station, but perhaps he’d decided to avoid any further drama and ride on ahead. What if he was already gone? What if it was too late to say good-bye? Not that Rafe had given any indication he wanted to see Jonah in private.

The hand clenching Jonah’s heart squeezed tighter.
Done. Over. Finished
. Like mournful gongs of a church bell announcing a death in the congregation, the words sounded in his head. He slapped the reins against the horse’s back, and the wagon lurched forward.

The gloom that shrouded Jonah was at odds with the brilliant sunny day and the vibrant blue sky overhead. He must not allow himself to wallow in grief over something that had never been his to begin with. Rafe had reminded him time and again that their relationship was temporary. The man had never lied. Once again it had been emotional Jonah who’d imagined his sexual partner had feelings for him simply because he felt so strongly himself.

“Time to grow up,” he advised himself aloud, hoping that hearing the words would snap him out of his melancholy. “Time to move on.”

“Talking to yourself, Talbot?” Mindy rode alongside his wagon, raising an eyebrow as she regarded him. “You look like an elephant dumped a load on your parade.”

Jonah didn’t answer. There was really no response to a statement like that.

“He hasn’t left yet, you know. Just in case you were wondering. But I wouldn’t wait too long if there’s something that needs to be said. I learned the hard way about that.” Again she cut a sharp glance at him.

Jonah nodded.

Mindy started to knee her horse into a trot, but before she moved off she added, “If you think you might be plannin’ on leavin’ too, could you give me a little notice? I’d like you to write down a script for the Poe show. No need to waste a good attraction just because you’re not there to deliver it. Somebody else can learn the stories.”

“No one’s irreplaceable,” Jonah recited glumly to her retreating back. He recalled he’d promised Sam he’d take care of Mindy, and the thought made him smile. Sam would be proud of her now.

* * *

It was odd to watch the carnival set up and no longer be in charge of it. The sun was setting, the shadows crawling long and thin across the grass as the big top went up, canvas billowing in the breeze. But for the first time in three years, Rafe had not shouted directions or pointed the placement of the wagons. He hadn’t paced the dimensions of the top nor pounded in the first staub, as was his custom.

He’d been interested to note that Mindy gave Saul Parinsky the task of measuring the ring, citing the fact that his man-size pace would be more accurate than hers. Rafe wouldn’t have guessed she possessed such manipulative skill, for it was exactly the right way to help win over her rival. She’d managed to make it clear she was in charge but would delegate tasks as needed for the benefit of the show. The sudden realization came over Rafe that Parinsky—for all his feigned desire to take charge—was actually more comfortable in his role of right-hand man. He’d complain and fuss, but he’d do as he was asked. The man was a drinker but never a slacker.

Rafe lingered, watching the setup when he should be on his way. If he hurried, he might catch the last train of the day at the local station. But then the plaintive howl of a locomotive whistle told him it was too late. The train was either just pulling in or just leaving, and he was too far away to get there in time. Perhaps one last night in his wagon, and he’d go to the station in the morning.

Then he saw Mindy heading for the wagon with a heavy carpetbag in each hand and remembered the little home on wheels was no longer his. And there was nothing keeping him here even for another night.

Rafe shouldered his pack and walked toward the makeshift corral Crooked Pete had set up. The horses were eating a measure of oats to go along with the grass they freely cropped. Chaucer would not be pleased at the interruption when Rafe saddled and loaded him with his belongings. Since it was far too late to catch the train, Rafe might as well let the horse enjoy his last meal with the herd.

He set his pack on the ground and leaned against the post, watching the gray, chestnut, black, and white horses snuffle in their feed bin. Their breath huffed softly from large nostrils. An occasional whicker or nip disturbed the serenity of feeding time.

Rafe stared at the animals and considered going to find Jonah for an official last good-bye. He’d seen him a few times during setup, but always at a distance and always busy. Rafe’s feet had been like lead, unable to walk over to the younger man, and he realized now he still couldn’t. They’d exchanged good-byes yesterday with Parinsky in attendance, keeping them from getting too personal. That was good. That was the way it must be.

Nevertheless, when Rafe heard the sound of approaching footsteps, his pulse sped, and he turned eagerly toward the person—only to have his heart drop at the sight of Jamie, not Jonah. Again.

Her blonde hair, which she usually wore piled high, was now hanging in loose curls around her face. Her eyes appeared even larger outlined in black and with long eyelashes that had to be be false framing them. She walked quickly toward the paddock and stopped in front of Rafe.

“You were going to leave without saying good-bye?” Accusation made her voice shake. “After all these years?”

“I said my farewells to everyone yesterday,” he reminded her. “There’s really nothing more to add.”

“Not even to me?” Her lips trembled, and those wide eyes shimmered with tears.

Rafe felt sick. He’d known about her feelings for him. She’d hardly hidden them. But he’d done everything in his power to make it clear those feelings weren’t returned. He’d never led her on, and there was nothing more he could have done to discourage her without being outright rude.

“Jamie, I’ve told you before, I think you’re a fine person, but we work together—that’s all. I’m leaving a lot of good friends like you behind, and I can’t say a private good-bye to each and every one of them.” He saw Jonah’s face, troubled and disappointed. He should have said a better good-bye. God, he couldn’t imagine saying the words—not again.