House of Mirrors (18 page)

“I was thinking whiskey. Gratis. No charge.”

Rafe eyed him. “No, but thank you.”

Parinsky rarely shared his liquor without demanding a fee. The magician pulled a silver flask from inside his jacket and drank deeply. He smacked his lips.

About a hundred yards away, Jonah stood watching between two wagons. Rafe gave a single shake of the head. Jonah turned and walked off.

Parinsky had been too busy messing about with his flask to notice Jonah. Rafe wondered what was behind this sudden chumminess and waited for Parinsky to reveal his motives, perhaps hint at blackmail.

Parinsky took another pull from the flask. “That fellow looking for you a few weeks back. The British one with the white hair.” He fell silent, watching Rafe too closely. “Interesting chap, as you’d say. I had a chance to talk to him awhile.”

Parinsky took another long swallow, drew his sleeve over his mouth, then corked his flask. He continued to openly study Rafe, who was determined to stay silent.

“He didn’t come right out and say what was going on, but I got the idea you might be needed across the pond in Merrie Old England. From all his hints, I got the impression you’re more than you seem to be.”

“How much did you pay him?”

Parinsky laughed. “Nearly twenty bucks by the time we were done talking. An expensive conversation without much meat to show for it. Couldn’t even pry your real name from him. Surely it’s not really Grimstone.”

Rafe slapped away a mosquito. “I’m sorry you wasted your money. At least now you’re only wasting your time.”

“Hey, listen, if you’re going to jump ship, we got the right to know.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Relief flooded him that Parinsky’s interest was in his abandoning the show, not his involvement with Jonah.

“Yeah? This week you’re not. What about next?”

“I won’t walk out midseason.”

“And after that?”

“If anything changes, I’ll let you know.” He looked pointedly over the magician’s shoulder. Parinsky didn’t move, so Rafe had to go around him or push him out of the way. He settled for a combination, but the slight shove sent the other man stumbling. The moment Rafe did that, he regretted riling the ill-tempered man who might use what he guessed about Rafe and Jonah to cause trouble. He grabbed Parinsky’s arm and steadied him. “Hey now, sorry, boyo.”

The arm under his hand was hard. Parinsky’s face and body had grown stiff with rage. To ease more tension, Rafe added, “See why I turned down your offer of a drink? I’ve had plenty o’ my own.”

He grinned and tipped his hat, acting the clown to keep the peace against the other man’s righteous fury. He walked away, weaving slightly to convince Parinsky, but he hadn’t gone more than a dozen yards before someone else fell into step next to him.

Rafe held back a sigh and pasted on a smile. “Hello, Miss Jamie. Fine evening, isn’t it?”

She didn’t respond to the pleasantry as she launched straight into her harangue. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. That tableau nonsense doesn’t fit in a carnival. We’re skilled performers. Posing while Johnny Hayseed tells a story is not what we do.”

Rafe suppressed his irritation at having to deal with one of Jamie’s artistic fits. At least she didn’t beat around the bush. “The world is changing. Music halls are all the rage. We’re adding the component of a traveling music hall, what you Americans call vaudeville. And Jonah’s show is proving popular.”

“You think you’re the sophisticated Europeeean.” Miss Jamie dragged out the last word as if it was some kind of obscenity. Her voice went shrill, and the soft drawl of a Southern belle that she affected had disappeared. “You think you’re too good for the likes of us.”

Rafe suddenly wondered if this had to do with Jamie. She’d shown so many signs of availability that he’d politely ignored. There was no denying her attraction to him or her obvious dislike for Jonah.

He stopped strolling. “Jamie, lass, I think no such thing. I hold you in the greatest respect. I admire your strength, your determination, your skill with the animals. You are a wonder, Miss Jamie, and I’m proud to know you.” He would have said proud to call you friend, but no one did that. He suddenly felt sorry for the high-strung Jamie, who seemed only to truly like the animals she worked with.

“No. If you respected me, you’d respect the carnival tradition, and you couldn't care less about that. You wouldn’t try to change the show. People expect to see something they saw as a kid.” She shook her head. “You don’t mess with a show that was good enough for our ancestors.”

They’d had this conversation more than once, and he was growing tired of it.

“We’re selling tickets, Jamie.”

“There’s more to life than selling tickets,” she said, almost as quiet as he was. It was a bad sign with her when she got too calm. And when she moved closer to him, he knew it was a very bad sign indeed.

“There’s loyalty and the people you’ve always counted on.” She rested her hand on his arm and looked up into Rafe’s face with eyes so intense, they were scary. He fought the urge to pull away. “Your true friends are the ones who you can trust to be there. You should never forsake them for some fly-by-night Johnny who’s here today and gone tomorrow.”

Rafe was walking on shifting sand. He’d always known Jamie harbored feelings for him, but hadn’t understood how deeply they ran. He didn’t want to hurt or anger her but couldn’t discourage her without speaking bluntly. And if she’d guessed that Jonah was more than a new friend to him, why would she possibly think he’d be interested in her at all? He decided to ignore the romantic overtone in her voice and merely reply to her words.

“As I said, I appreciate your work, your skill with the animals, and the gracious way you win over an audience. Introducing a new act does not threaten what you do. But Jonah is good at what he does too, and people seem interested. We need every penny we can scrape in if we’re going to be able to open the show again next spring. As a veteran, you should know that better than anyone.”

Miss Jamie, queen of the show, looked up at him with a gaze that nearly broke his heart. For once her soul was unguarded, and he saw the bleakness within her. He wished he could give her what she wanted, but he was not the man for her. Meanwhile, Dimitri languished at her feet and Jack Treanor seemed to have thrown his cap in the ring, though Rafe had doubts about his sincerity. Why couldn’t this young woman see that the love she craved was within her grasp if she simply altered her expectations?

“Very well, Mr. Grimstone. You’re the manager. You clearly know what’s best for all of us.” She turned to walk away, but couldn’t resist tossing one last dart over her shoulder. “But don’t be surprised if your house of cards collapses. The hayseed will leave you in the lurch when you least expect it, like most of these transients do, and maybe when you turn to your old friends, you’ll find them gone too.”

Rafe watched her walk away and wished he could’ve handled her better, but with Miss Jamie, there was no way to keep her happy. If it wasn’t Jonah’s show, she’d be complaining about something else. Well, she was right about one thing—someone was going to leave the show. He’d contact the Orcully Brothers soon and see if they wanted to buy him out, and when the weather turned and the season ended, he’d be on a steamship back to his old life.

Chapter Seventeen

“Jinxed. That’s what we are.” Henry Fisher gloomily regarded his bandaged hand. “When luck has abandoned a show, there’s little you can do to save it.”

Jonah waited for Ellen to contradict her husband, but for once “the Signortoris” were a united force after suffering through another foul week of setbacks.

“We were once with an outfit called Sanderson’s when their luck turned,” Ellen mournfully chimed in. “Within a month the show was disbanded, and everyone scrambled to find work.”

She took a long sip from her cup of coffee, which Jonah was pretty certain was liberally laced with whiskey. The way the pair drank, it was a wonder Henry hadn’t embedded a knife in his wife’s body during their throwing act rather than accidentally catching the blade end of a knife he was juggling.

“Mr. Grimstone is doing the best he can. We won’t fail,” Jonah said, determined to ease the couple’s anxious mood.

It was true that the cancellation of two engagements in one month had been a blow, but Henry was to blame for his accident with the knife. Luck had nothing to do with it. And wagons could be expected to break down due to wear and tear on the horribly rutted mountain tracks. A few days of heavy rain causing mudslides was also not unusual in fall in the mountains. And it was natural that Sam’s precarious respiratory health acted up due to the damp, clammy weather, laying the poor fellow low. This unfortunate string of events was actually logical rather than merely unlucky, but Jonah had learned that show people were a superstitious lot. Not so different from the people he’d grown up with, who liked to blame everything on either God’s will or the devil’s hand.

Jonah rose from the table and bid the overcast “Signortoris” good-bye. He pulled his collar around his ears and bent his head as he left the shelter of canvas and tried to dart between the raindrops. He decided to check on Sam before returning to his duties, which today included repairing torn canvases and cobbling together broken bits of the ponies’ harnesses.

After pounding on the door of Sam’s trailer, he pulled it open without waiting for an answer in order to escape the heavy drizzle. The trailer was hot, humid, and stuffy. The single window was open, but no fresh air infiltrated the space, only more dampness.

Sam lay on his bed with Mindy sitting beside him, trying to get him to swallow a spoonful of soup. Jonah wiped off his muddy shoes and crossed the room to stand behind her chair.

Sam’s heavy-lidded eyes appeared glazed. His face was bathed in sweat, and his brown hair was as wet as if he was the one who’d just come in from the rain.

“Fever hasn’t broken?”

Mindy shook her head and brought another spoonful of broth to Sam’s lips. “Try to swallow just a little. You haven’t eaten in nearly two days.”

“Sorry. Not. Hungry,” he gasped between rasping breaths.

Fear uncoiled inside Jonah. For the first time, he realized what bad shape Sam was in. The man had been ill with one thing or another ever since Jonah had met him, and he’d become used to his complaints, had begun to think maybe some of it was Sam’s imagination. But he wasn’t faking his rough breathing now or the fever that boiled through his lanky body. This was serious.

“Should I get Parinsky?” Jonah asked Mindy. “He was a doctor once, right?”

“Yeah. In New York City. Don’t know what happened there, but I’m pretty sure something went bad with one of his patients. You can hardly get him to bandage a cut these days.”

“But surely he’ll have some ideas, something we can do to make this fever break. If not, maybe I can ride to the nearest town and get a doctor.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. Folks ’round here probably use old-time remedies, and the nearest doctor could be miles away. By the time you find and bring him back, Sam’ll be well again.” She sounded confident, but when she glanced up at Jonah, her eyes told a different story.

“Should’ve headed east,” she muttered as she set the bowl on the nightstand. “Traveling through these mountains is breaking us down.”

“Hey,” Sam croaked, his eyelids fluttering open. “Don’t knock Kentucky. Prettiest state in the union.”

“Your family home’s near here.” Jonah knelt beside the bed and grasped Sam’s hand. “Duck Hollow, isn’t it?”

“Holler. We don’t say hollow hereabouts.” Sam managed a smile before another cough shook his body.

Mindy rose. “Hell. I’ll go see if Parinsky has something different he can give him. This cough remedy ain’t helping at all. You bathe him a little while I’m gone. There’s the water basin.” She indicated a stand. “Water in the pitcher’s pretty fresh.”

Mindy bent over Sam and rested her hand on his forehead. “You try and hold back that cough, damn it, before you shake your insides loose.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She bent and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then hurried toward the door. Sam watched her go with adoring eyes that wrenched Jonah’s heart.

Jonah filled the basin with water from the pitcher, found a cloth and towel, then helped Sam to sit and pulled the sweat-soaked shirt off him. Sam’s elongated bones jutted sharply against his skin, his ribs a ladder down to his flat stomach and jutting hip bones. He’d always been skinny, but he’d lost even more weight over these past few days.

Jonah washed his face, neck, and torso. Another coughing spell seized Sam, and Jonah waited it out with a hand pressed against his back. Before Sam folded his handkerchief, Jonah saw blood. A chill rippled through him despite the heat.

“Are you gonna be all right?” Jonah patted Sam’s shoulder.

“Sorry. I don’t think I’ll be running the lights for your show.”

“Forget that. It doesn’t matter.” He resumed washing Sam’s shoulders and arms before getting a clean undershirt from the hook on the wall. He slipped it over the man’s shaggy head and helped him thread his arms through the armholes.

“Do you want to sit in the chair while I put clean sheets on your bed?” Jonah regarded the rumpled, damp bedding.

“I ain’t got no other sheets. Don’t care, anyway.” Sam dropped back onto the pillow, exhausted.

Jonah drew the top sheet over him, although there was no need for extra warmth in the hot room. But covering a patient seemed like the right thing to do.

“Will you do something for me?” Sam muttered.

“Sure. Anything.”

“Look after Mindy. She acts all tough, but she ain’t really. Claudia’s a friend to her, but she needs more than one friend, and she likes you.”

“Mindy’ll be fine. She’s got you.”

Sam stared up at him with eyes as deep and dark as a well. “Don’t. We both know I probably ain’t gonna get better. Don’t try to pretend everything’s all right. I need to talk plain with you.”

Jonah wanted to say something about God and the healing power of prayer, but that wasn’t what Sam needed from him right now. He nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll look after Mindy. Anything else?”