In Search of a Memory (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (12 page)

He winced at how vile she made the word sound. “Posey’s colorful vocabulary. You met the woman. She’d probably call a dame blinking her eyes as being cast under a witch’s spell.”

“Could you please not use that word?”

Her unexpected switch caught him off guard. “What word?
Witch
?”

“
Dame
. I don’t like it. It sounds… cheap.”

Roland had never associated the word as meaning anything but a lady. Everyone he knew used the slang term, but he nodded. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll stop.”

His quick acquiescence mollified her. “I’m sorry I jumped on you. I suppose it really isn’t your fault how they perceive us.”

“You’re upset. It’s understandable. If I hadn’t insisted on carrying your luggage, you’re right, they wouldn’t have immediately paired us off.” Word of mouth obviously spread fast through the carny grapevine. “But again, is it really so bad for them to think we might happen to like each other?”

Her eyes widened. “Do you?”

“Like you? Yes.”

She looked away as if suddenly at a loss, and he resisted the strong urge to ask if she returned the favor or at least no longer considered him the enemy.

“We’re attracting attention.” She released a weary breath, and he glanced around, noticing a few workers had stopped what they were doing to stare. “Let’s walk. To Chester’s tent, I believe it was?” She resumed moving down the midway.

Roland fell into step beside her, casting her sidelong glances. He wanted to know how his admission made her feel, but this was the worst possible time to broach the subject. If he tried, she might push him into the wall of the tent they now passed then run off as the whole thing came tumbling down on top of his head.

They arrived at Chester’s tent just as Cassie rushed out of it. Dashing her fingers beneath her eyes shining with tears, she appeared more than a little upset.

“Cassie?” Angel asked in concern.

The blond shook her head, her face a picture of complete distress. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She hurried away.

Angel looked after Cassie, as if uncertain what to do, then glanced up at Roland. He shrugged and shook his head, defeated when it came to a woman’s tears. He could barely figure out the woman with him, much less a near stranger. Even though the woman with him was almost that. So why, then, did he feel a connection to her, experience an urge to protect her, and battle an almost-constant desire to be with her?

Curbing a groan, he held the tent flap aside and allowed her to enter Chester’s tent ahead of him.

Chester offered them both an abrupt nod in greeting, his jaw tense. Angel had never seen the affable man look so sullen. She considered asking if everything was all right between him and Cassie but decided not to interfere. She didn’t know him well enough to invite confidences.

“Hope we aren’t intruding,” Roland said.

Chester shrugged, the smile he offered grim. “What can I do for you two?”

Angel told him about her need for a stool, and he readily complied.

“Sure, I can let one go.” He moved to a wooden counter where three stools sat in front of what looked like a miniature circus, smaller than a dollhouse. Tiny striped tents and banners stood erected on a platform. A model of a Ferris wheel, half the size of her hand, stood to the side.

Fascinated, Angel drew near. “Did you make this?”

“Sure did.” A bit of tension drained from his voice.

“It’s very good. There’s so much detail.” She sensed Roland draw closer, though he maintained his distance.

“As long as you’re both here, why don’t I give you that free show? I haven’t much else to do, so come see my little beauties.” His manner undergoing a complete roundabout, Chester looked beyond Angel’s shoulder with a grin. “Come on, Roland, my man. Step right up. Don’t be shy.” He moved to retrieve a cigar box and carefully slid back the lid.

Angel heard Roland’s footsteps rustle nearer in the grass.

Chester put something from his hand onto the small carnival layout. He looked up again.

“You’ll have to come closer. These human fleas are small. You’ll need to look at them through the special Fresnel lens I have.”

Angel inhaled softly as she felt Roland’s warmth at her back, though no part of him touched her. She struggled to concentrate on what Chester said as he showed each of his fleas’ amazing tricks. One appeared to lift a set of barbells, another to pull a wagon. A third to dance. Another flea moved the Ferris wheel by walking atop it.

“That is amazing,” she said, genuinely impressed. “You called them names, but how do you tell them apart?”

“Waltzing Matilda is faster than the others. Slow Moe at the wheel, well, his name tells it all. Each of them has a different personality or characteristic.”

She bent over the lens again. “They’re so tiny! What do they eat?”

“They don’t call them human fleas for nothing.”

She straightened. “Wha—oh.”

“Yeah, Cassie had that same horrified look in her eyes when she found out. Ever been bit by a mosquito? Dozens at once? Not much different, except I know my beauties haven’t any diseases, since I take care of them. Sadly, their life span is short though. Doctors used to use leeches, and my little gems don’t take anywhere near as much blood as one of those.”

Unable to prevent a little shudder, Angel looked into the lens again. The sudden stirring of her hair by Roland’s warm breath as he also leaned in to look had her jump as high as one of the fleas.

She straightened, knocking into him, and twisted around, startled to find him so close. His dark eyes stared into hers, only inches away. It took a moment for her mind to start functioning again.

“I imagine you want to see, too.” She hastily stepped aside. “Please, take my place. I must be getting back. Thanks for the free show—and the stool.” With a tense smile, she picked one up and escaped from the tent.

“She’s got it bad,” Chester said with an annoying chuckle.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then you’re blind, deaf,
and
dumb.” His words came calmly as he began putting away his flea family. “And I don’t mean mute.”

“Don’t I get a look?”

“You’re not going after her?”

“It’s the last thing she wants.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Cassie behaved like Angel, too, at first.”

Since he opened the topic, Roland pursued. “And now? She didn’t look happy coming from your tent.”

Chester’s jovial features tightened into their earlier grimace. “Daddy problems. Someone told him they saw us together, and Cassie got a reprimand.”

“I don’t get it. She looks old enough to choose for herself and not have to worry about her parents doing it for her.”

“Yeah, but she respects her father and his wishes. Crazy thing is, I actually admire that, as aggravated as it can make me. You, on the other hand, don’t have a disapproving father to worry about. So get on out of here and find Angel.”

“What about my free show?”

“I’m not going anywhere; neither are the fleas. But she is.” Chester inclined his head toward the exit. “Go on.” He resumed putting the fleas in the box.

“Fine.”

Roland left Chester alone with his flea family. Angel was right. The whole blasted carnival seemed ready to pair them together, not that he minded. But he had more chance of riding atop an elephant and learning Jabar’s tricks than he did of discovering the secret to talking with Angel on pleasant terms, and that’s what infuriated him. The carnies’ wisecracks and sly glances only added salt to the wound of Angel’s indifference.

Roland had never classified himself as arrogant or conceited. Young women his family approved of had shown interest in him, his money, his name, but he never really took part in anything serious. He would be lying if he didn’t admit that Angel’s disinterest didn’t sting a little—all right, more than a little. And maybe it was one part challenge and five parts concern that prodded him to find opportunities to share her company. But the most peculiar feeling had come over him, especially lately, that the reason for her frosty attitude had to do with more than Roland being a Piccoli. She was hiding something; he was sure of it.

Up ahead, he spotted her and held back, his muscles again going tense when he saw the carny from the night before with her. What was his name? Oh yes.
Harvey
.

Roland didn’t want to behave like her shadow, stalking her, and he sure had no claim on her life or reason to be jealous. But when the crude man grabbed her elbow, once she moved away, he felt his hands curl into fists and just prevented himself from lunging forward. He waited, watching to see what she would do.

She glanced over her shoulder to where the louse held her, said something, then snapped her arm from his hold. Again she spoke then walked off, her head held high, leaving Harvey to stare after her, nudging his hat higher on his head as if befuddled.

Roland smiled grimly. She’d obviously put the man in his place. Remembering the sting of her words, he could almost feel sorry for the poor brute.

Maybe she didn’t need someone watching out for her, but that didn’t prevent him from worrying about her or wanting to get to know her better. It seemed the woman was constantly on his mind. Question was, how could he achieve what looked to be more impossible with each passing day?

Angel clutched the bed frame in a death grip. It shook like what she imagined it would feel going through an earthquake or hurricane. The railcar walls vibrated with a metallic clunking noise as if they might suddenly disintegrate in a strong wind.

She didn’t remember this awful feeling of being about to take her last breath on the train she took a week ago, though the accommodations were nicer in Roland’s private car and the dining compartment. Angel could hardly believe she’d lived on a train like this as a child. The carnival was much different than she’d once imagined, and except for the present situation with the fear that at any moment she might be shaken apart, she’d found a sense of harmony she’d never known at her aunt’s home. The carnies she’d met so far were all wonderful, making her feel as if she belonged. None of them ever belittled a remark she made, which helped her to relax and feel freer to join in their conversations.

“You’ll get used to it,” her cabin mate said from the cot above. “What’s really bad is traveling this way when your head feels like it’s splitting wide open.”

Angel could imagine this kind of travel giving her a headache.

“I heard you’ve been asking about your mother. Any luck with that?”

“No.” Angel gave a weary sigh. “No one remembers her.”

“Mind me asking why you’re so intent on finding her, especially since you don’t remember her?” Cassie paused as Angel struggled. “If you’d rather not say, or if you tell me to mind my own business, I’ll understand.”

It was actually nice to have someone in whom to confide, a benefit she’d never shared with her waspish cousins. She’d been able to speak with Nettie only between her friend’s chores. Strange how Angel’s aunt lamented the difficulty of surviving the Depression but kept Nettie on, though she never did pay the woman her worth. Keeping up appearances was paramount to Aunt Genevieve.

Angel squashed further bitter thoughts.

“I never felt like I belonged at my aunt’s. I… I suppose if I ever do find my mother, there’s a strong possibility she might not wish to see me. But I’m willing to take the risk.” The more she thought about it, taking into account the behavior of her aunt and cousins, she wouldn’t put it past them to lie about the cause of Lila’s disappearance.

Cassie’s head suddenly popped down as she hung over the cot, startling Angel into jumping back a little. Her new friend gave a goofy smile. How she could balance herself in an oversize tin can that felt as if it might rattle apart at any moment, Angel couldn’t begin to imagine.

“Don’t you get dizzy like that?”

“I’m an acrobat; it’s my nature. When I was little, I thought I’d be a tightrope walker. But I prefer to do my daredevil stunts on things in motion—like my horses. Rattling train cars that zoom into the night work, too.”