Paper Dolls (6 page)

"With all due respect Tobias,” says Zeke, “none of us knew what we were getting into at the start. I've known you for a good twenty years. I saw you consumed with grief when you lost your boy four years back. I know what drives you. I know what drives all of us who stand here tonight. I would give anything to hold my children again. It’s been nine years, but I can still hear their screams in the midst of that fire. Those screams haunt me every waking hour. But make no mistake, we're heading down the left-hand path."

Grandfather bristles. "You can call it black magic if you like. Hell, call it voodoo. But we’re not doing anyone wrong. We’re not causing harm.”

Zeke runs an agitated hand through dark hair that is sprinkled with gray. “We don’t know what we’re doing, in the end.”

I draw my arms in close to my body, hugging my knees. I don't like what they are talking about, even if I don’t understand it. Their words are ugly, with sharp, jagged edges.

“We don't need any naysayers,” says Grandfather. “Not at this point. In nine days we’ll have the second book of the
Speculum Nemus
. I’ll take possession of it at a point along the Mexican railways. All of us have seen glimpses into the
speculum
. What more do we need?"

"But what more will it take?” Zeke’s voice rises and quavers. “What kind of power can send us all back to the past without grave consequences and—"

Grandfather’s face grows stormy. "Enough! Get out, Jeke. You're no longer part of this.”

The man gazes at grandfather for a moment with an expression of both challenge and contemplation, then turns and hastens away—his shoulders hunched.

The woman rubs her temples as though she had a sudden headache. The others seem to not know whether to leave or stay.

Mr. Baldcott continues to sip his wine, unaffected. “The Mexican railways you say, Tobias?”

“Yes, the tome is being brought to me from a secret location. I understand that the trip will be quite arduous for the bearers of the book. There are no easy paths in those mountains.”

“Have you arranged any kind of protection? After all, there are others who would surely give their left arm, and their right one too, if they knew of the existence of such literature.” Mr. Baldcott looks to the others for affirmation of his words, nodding in order to prompt nods from them.

“I place my trust in the people who are bringing it to me." Grandfather raises his bushy eyebrows in a way that I know means the conversation is closed. "They are native to the area, and will raise no suspicion. If on the other hand I were to send some paid henchmen….”

“Of course.” Mr. Baldcott stares into the remains of his wine as though it has soured. “Though perhaps it would be best to give a few more details, so that the rest of us might be alerted should things go astray. Such as the station you’ll be alighting at.”

Grandfather frowns at this. “I shall remain the only one to have knowledge of that. I think that’s best.”

By the murmurs of the other people in the tent, it seems they agree with grandfather.

Mr. Baldcott sets his glass down on the bar and pours himself another. He catches sight of me and a smile curls one edge of his pudgy mouth. “Ah, what do we have here? A little lost highwire performer.”

He doesn’t understand the difference between highwire and trapeze, for he always uses the terms interchangeably. Else, he just doesn’t care. I uncurl myself as all attention turns to me, feeling silly and exposed in my spangled leotard.

Grandfather extends a hand to me. “What are you doing here, Jessamine?” His tone is sharp, harsh. It hurts to have him speak to me like that.

“I came looking for you, but didn’t want to disturb you when you I saw you had people here.”

He grunts in reply.

“Well everyone,” he says, “I will be in contact again shortly. I trust that every one of you understands the vast importance of keeping this private.”

People shuffled from the tent, their heads and shoulders bowed as though held down by a great weight.

“I’ll see you at the ball, sweet lamb,” says Mr. Baldcott to me as he leaves.

Grandfather doesn’t hear him—he’s wrapped up in his own thoughts, thumbing his beard absentmindedly.

“I don’t like him,” I say.

“Who?”

“Mr. Baldcott. Henry and Audette say he wants to court me and that I should let him.”

“Hmmm, I see. Well, he is a very wealthy man and the circus needs him right now. Just keep your manners about you. In any case, soon it won’t matter. There are changes coming, little Jessamine. Changes I can’t explain to you just yet.”

Madame Celia’s words claw the edges of my mind like a cat. Grandfather dismissed her silly fortunes when I told him about her, but hadn’t the people here tonight spoken about great dangers?

My bottom lip trembles. "What’s happening? Why did that man talking about going back to the past?"

Grandfather sits heavily on his rocking chair and draws me onto on his lap. I feel awkward, way too big to sit there—but I know I am still a child in his eyes, a little girl.

"We can't return to the past, Jessamine. That's impossible."

"Is that why you were angry with him?"

"Jeke is a good man. But there's something he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that sometimes you have to take great risks for those you love."

I shake my head slightly. I don’t want to tell him that I still don’t understand. Grandfather already seems exhausted by the events of the evening. His skin is grey underneath the slightly reddened surface.

"Jess-of-mine," he says softly. He's called me that as long as I remember. “What would you give to see your father once again?"

"Everything," I whisper, surprised by the turn of conversation. I clutch the wooden clown to my chest. The sudden memory of the day daddy gave the clown to me flashes through my mind.

We were in Mexico City, caught in the middle of fighting from revolutionaries. They had cut off access to the road out of the city. I was five years old and terrified. Daddy stole away from the small villa we were staying at, and returned with a small wooden clown. He said he hoped it would cheer me up. It wasn’t much of a clown—it was stiff and painted in dull colors. But I loved it from the moment he gave it to me.

Grandfather leans his head back, closes his eyes. "Listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you… This world you see around you… it's not all there is. It's not the only world. There are infinite copies of our universe. All the stars and the constellations of stars, all the planets and all the galaxies of planets—they have copied themselves an infinite amount of times.”

I look out of the tent to the small patch of inky sky framed by the flaps and wonder how he knows any of that. The tiny stars are mere pinpricks of light and planets are nowhere to be seen. No one has been to a planet, not even to the moon.

His hand reaches for mine. “And you and I, we live over and over and over. Infinitely.”

I turn to look at him, and can’t keep a frown from forming on my face. But I don’t speak. He told me to listen and I must do this.

He gazes at me intently. “A very wise sect of people from centuries past made a discovery. They discovered a way to pass through. Over the past five years, I have been collecting their literature. Obtaining accurate translations have proved difficult, not the least of which has been finding trustworthy souls to do the translations. And the passages, even in the best translations, are obscure. Their research culminated in the writings of two books—two books that were lost from the world until recently.”

His eyes close squeeze shut. “I’ve invested a great deal of money into this—everything I have in fact. The people here tonight have heavily invested also.” He exhales with smoke-laden breath. “I've seen glimmers of the other worlds, tantalizing snatches. I have seen… I have seen your grandmother… and your father.”

Tears wet the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision. “
You saw them?
”

“Yes. We are connected to the other worlds, Jessamine, even though we don’t know they exist. We sense them, we dream of them. And they dream of us. Time is a dream in which all possible things happen.”

My throat is dry. A thought comes to me, but it’s too terrible to speak it. And a young lady should never speak of things she cannot formulate properly in her minds. My governess tells me that. But I am on the edge of a vast blackness, staring into an incalculable hole. I could fall, and fall forever. I must know and I must ask.

“How do you reach these worlds?” My voice is a whimper. “Does it hurt?”

Grandfather is silent. I am acutely aware of sitting here, with time slipping from us, each moment swiftly becoming the past. I cannot return to the second before this, even though nothing has changed in this second.

He shifts in the chair, and I know he does not want to answer me. His eyes drift open. "We need to die, in this world, before we can pass through."

My heart is a tight ball. "I don't want you to die."

He gently rocks the chair and says no more.

"Mr. Baldcott, you're looking quite...tidy." It is the best thing I can find to say. He normally has mussy hair and dark sweat patches under the arms of his shirt, but tonight he has made an effort to tuck in his shirt and attend to himself.

Henry and Audette have given me dire warnings on being pleasant to Mr. Baldcott tonight. He was about to funnel a good deal of investment money into the circus. It seems he has endless wads of money—investing in the circus affairs as well as grandfather’s private venture. Grandfather made me promise not to give a thought to all that was said that night in his tent, but I couldn’t simply erase it. Fear stalked my days and I’d become what others saw as irrationally clingy to grandfather.

Heat from the New Orleans night passes through the myriad open doors and windows of the grand hall. I smooth down the skirt of my gown as the quartet begins to play. Men lead their women onto the floor. Mother watches dolefully from her chair. No one asks her to dance. A woman in a wheelchair cannot waltz. Still, she wears her best dress and has done her hair with baubles and pearls. She is beautiful—so much so that single men cast regretful looks as they pass her in order to ask lesser beauties to dance.

The ball is some sort of charity affair run by the wealthy of New Orleans. I would be excited to wear my first ball gown and practice my dancing if not for the presence of Mr. Baldcott. Awkward-looking young men keep close to the walls and steal glances at me. I should like a chance to waltz with one of them, but Mr. Baldcott practically took possession of me the moment I entered the hall. In any event, we are leaving town tomorrow and there will be no more occasions on which I’ll be required to exchange pleasantries with Mr. Baldcott.

“Might we dance?” Mr. Baldcott nods his head towards the dance floor.

I accept his hand and he leads me into a waltz. A cloud of cologne masks a vague musky odor and his body heat closes into me. His hand is cold, clammy. Inside I squirm. We whirl past Henry and Audette. Henry smirks at me and Audette bobs her head approvingly. Mr. Baldcott leads me between the hundred or so other couples on the floor, as though showing me off as a prize.

The waltz ends and we clap. Mr. Baldcott takes my elbow and steers me towards a quieter corner of the hall.

He leans in towards me. "Might I make some simple suggestions on your performance outfits? Now that you're growing rapidly into a woman, perhaps something a little... flirtier… would find favor with the audience? Even your attire tonight is more suggestive of a child than a woman."

He hooks a finger onto the neckline of my dress and tugs it outwards and downwards.

I step backwards so quickly I stumble on my heel. "Grandfather chooses my performance outfits," I tell him stiffly.

"Well, you could let me take over that little job. After all, I’m about to own a good proportion of the circus."

I attempt to stretch my mouth into a smile. "Grandfather will still have final say over how things run."

"In name only. Naturally, you needn't worry your sweet head over such things. I will bring about the changes the circus is in dire need of. The other big circuses are running past the Fiveash circus. Interest in your grandfather’s mutant animals is waning. No one cares about five-legged goats anymore. Water performances are quite popular now. The Fiveash circus must bring in the new, or perish.”

“Grandfather has been… distracted of late. But I am certain he will agree to changes, if needed.”

His eyebrows arch in his low forehead. “You were there that night in your grandfather’s tent. You must know by now that he is never coming back onboard with the business side of things. He has gone, as they say, off the deep end.”

“You’re calling him insane,” I say flatly.

“Not in the least. He’s an eccentric old buzzard. I humor his eccentricities, more than anything.”

Could all that grandfather had said to me really just be the ravings of an old man? How could they be when all those other people had been discussing the same things?

Mr. Baldcott stares into my eyes for such a length of time I have to look away. “You and I might become quite good friends, if you’ll allow it. We’ll be seeing a good deal of each other from now on."

“We will?”

“Oh yes. I’ll be flying in to manage the circus affairs quite often, wherever in the country that may be.”

I try not to show my disappointment. “I didn’t realize. But, of course we can be friends. There is virtue in maintaining cordiality towards those around you.”

“Oh, you misunderstand. I’m speaking of more than mere cordiality. I find you extremely attractive. I’m suggesting a romantic attachment, once you’re of age.”

I want to run— deep into the night. “There are other girls in the circus who might appeal more than me. The girls who perform with the elephants are far more voluminous than me.”

“I believe the word you’re reaching for is
voluptuous
.” He chuckles in amusement. “You are a treasure. That governess of yours should be fired, for all she teaches you.” A serious expression enters his eyes. “I could send you to the finest French finishing school, where you’ll no longer be a little circus brat with airs. You’ll learn all the things a young lady should know in order to function in high society. And you’ll learn to speak properly.”