The Wild in her Eyes Read online

  Sequoyah laughed. “Or maybe he’s just not as grown up as he looks and still needs toys to play with.”

  Annis scowled. “He has toys. He doesn’t need to try to eat the tent.” She threw her arms up at the red and yellow tarp she’d only just saved from flapping in the wind after Fin had ripped the rope from her hands.

  “Fair enough,” he agreed, taking her hand as they began to walk. It was a small gesture but one that had become a constant in recent months, and one Annis took great pleasure in. “You know, I think he’s bored. Maybe he needs more to do. He needs a job. A place in the world. Just like the rest of us.”

  “What do you suggest I have him do? Round up the monkeys every night?”

  “There’s an idea!”

  For a moment Annis couldn’t tell if he was being serious. She had to crane her neck around to face him as they walked, to see what his eyes were saying.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” She sighed. “You were joking.”

  “About the monkeys, yes,” he said. “But not about him needing a job. Look at the herd. They all get restless with nothing to do. That’s when they start breaking boards or jumping fences. Taking off and causing general mischief. They’re smart. They need a good challenge. Fin is no different.”

  He was right about that much. Finian was smart. Annis was often in awe of the things he sorted out for himself and of the ways he understood her. He was brilliant and, young or not, he needed more than just a few toys to throw around and chew on. Sequoyah was right. Fin needed to use his mind.

  “Maybe I can start training him to help me around here. Teach him to fetch tools and hold things without turning it into a game of chase or tug-o-war. It’s not much, but it’s a start, right?”

  “Absolutely!”

  Annis wasn’t sure if his enthusiasm stemmed from his relentless support of her or if he genuinely believed she was on track to finding a job for Fin, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

  “Think you can help me?” Maybe his experience with wolves was limited, but he still knew a great deal more about animals than she did.

  “You know I’ll do whatever I can,” he promised. She felt a tender pressure against her palm as he squeezed her hand. “Come find me after lunch and we’ll start with something simple.”

  “Perfect.” She beamed back at him, gratitude and admiration moving through her in abundant waves. She was used to the feeling by now, but it never grew any less enjoyable.

  He smiled at her one last time before he released her hand when they parted ways at the horse corral. She continued on until she reached Hugh and Babe’s car, where she’d promised to help Babe with the wash. With the constant travel, costumes were worn as often as possible before washing them. When it was time, a few people would see to the laundering for the whole troupe. Today the job had fallen to Annis and Babe.

  Annis always welcomed time spent with Babe, no matter what they were doing. Last week, she’d spent hours collecting tiny beads out of the dirt with her after Babe’s necklace had burst in the middle of the show. The next day, every little gemstone had been strung up on a new chain by Hugh before finding its way back to gracing Babe’s neckline.

  “Ooh, I smell something sweet!” Annis declared as she stepped inside Babe’s makeshift tent.

  “Momma brought us fresh pie,” Babe informed her, pointing at the golden, flaky, still-steaming crust that rose from an iron skillet. “Brought us all her linens too.”

  “Sounds like a fair trade to me,” Annis said with a laugh, hurrying over to the pie to get a good whiff. “Is it apple? It smells like apple.” Apple was her favorite and she hadn’t had it in ages.

  “I do believe it is.” Babe came to stand beside her. “Shall we start with linens? Or pie?”

  Both of them laughed. Obviously, the answer was pie.

  Within minutes, they had served themselves up a hearty slice each and walked out into the sunshine with it, finding seats on an array of boxes and an abandoned trunk, which made for surprisingly adequate seating. Even as winter was knocking at their door, traveling south had held the cold at bay, at least during daylight hours. Come nightfall, Annis had started to notice a chill in the air. It made her all the more thankful for the bit of warmth from the sun that graced her skin as they sat there, about to enjoy a perfectly delicious slice of Momma T’s apple pie.

  Fin circled the area several times before he took his place at Annis’s feet. Though he was lying down, he remained perfectly alert. Annis hardly registered his behavior anymore. It was simply part of how they went about their day.

  “He’s become quite the shadow,” Babe said, pointing her fork down in his direction before using it to spear another piece of pie.

  “He has,” Annis agreed. “Half the time it’s almost as though he can anticipate my moves before I make them.”

  “He looks to you as the leader,” she said. “That’s good.”

  Annis made a face. “I’m not so sure that’s true. He’s always getting himself into trouble lately and I’m definitely not leading him to do it.”

  “But does he stop when you ask him?”

  Annis grinned. “When I growl at him,” she said with a laugh. “Sometimes I think we’ve spent so much time together, neither of us really knows which language we’re supposed to be speaking.”

  “Doesn’t make much difference as long as you understand each other,” Babe said, her gaze still down on Finian. “And you do understand each other.”

  Annis nodded. “We do. Sequoyah thinks I should start training him. Give him a job to do.”

  “He’s right.” Babe’s head turned absentmindedly, and Annis followed her gaze back to the tent where they’d left Basileus. “Even the old man in there needs purpose to thrive.”

  This was news to Annis. “Basileus serves a purpose?” She cleared her throat nervously and began to add in rapid waves of words, “I mean, clearly he serves a purpose. His presence alone serves inspiration to all, not least of all me. And, I mean, he’s king, so, he’s ruler of all Brooks and Bennet, in a figurative sense of course, not literal. I wouldn’t imply he was literally the ruler of this circus. That would be silly. Oh, Babe, shut me up,” she pleaded.

  “Tulip, you’d burst if anyone ever forced you to keep those words in. When they rush out like that, you just let ’em pour. No one minds.” She shrugged, scooping up a piece of fallen pie filling from her plate. “In fact, I think we all rather enjoy it. You’re quite funny when you’re not trying to be.”

  “What about when I am trying to be?” Annis realized this was not the current issue. Babe, however, had brought it up and now she needed to know.

  “You’re quite humorous all around, Tulip. No need to fret.” She chuckled, patting Annis’s arm with her free hand while her plate lay on her lap, quivering with her quiet laughter. “But for the sake of staying on point, and to answer your previous question, yes, Basileus does in fact serve a purpose outside of being royalty, and a muse of sorts.”

  Annis was scared to ask what it was. Her previous bout of disbelief seemed rude enough. She didn’t want to add to it by inquiring further. Instead, she waited, desperately hoping Babe would tell her, unprompted.

  Apparently, Babe sensed Annis’s silent suffering. “I suppose it’s eating away at you not knowing what it is.” She laughed again. Annis was well aware the laughter was at her expense. “For starters, he guards our home. I know you’ve never seen him act viciously, but that’s because you were invited in and he’s had a good sniff of you since. He likes you. Trusts you. Knows you mean no harm. He’s not always so mellow, Tulip.”

  “He’s not?” The most effort she’d ever seen the tiger exert was to give a good stretch when he was yawning.

  “No.” She scanned camp ahead as though she were looking for someone specific, and when she couldn’t find them, she went on. “A few weeks before you turned up, we had a stowaway. No one knew. Now, ordinarily, and you know as well as anyone, this wouldn’t be a problem around here. We’re th
e welcoming sorts, even if we didn’t officially ask you to join us. But this was different. This wasn’t someone seeking refuge.” Her expression turned bitter and left Annis with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  “What did they want?”

  “To hurt us,” she said sadly. “Or, as he put it, to do God’s will and put a stop to the evil we were spreading around like a deadly disease.”

  “Us?” Annis didn’t understand. “You and Hugh? What evil?” And then, like sand through a sifter, the pieces began to fall into place. “No.”

  “Oh, yes,” Babe insisted. Though her voice was breathy, her words were strong. “And he might have succeeded had it not been for old Basil.”

  Annis felt a new sort of chill, one that had little to do with the weather. “What happened to him?”

  “He got beat up pretty good, but nothing time wouldn’t mend.” Her eyes looked glossy as she dropped them down to examine her nearly empty plate as though it held a great deal of interest for her. “We took him to the first doctor we could find in the next town we came to. Never saw him again.”

  They sat in silence after that, both moving bits of pie crust around their plates with their forks but too preoccupied to notice they were doing it.

  Annis wrestled with an array of emotions. All the work Hugh did each day to show the world the things that people couldn’t seem to see for themselves, and still there was such blindness and hatred. It made her chest ache.

  “I’m really glad Basileus is so good at his job,” she said at last, when she could no longer bear the silence.

  Babe’s mouth cracked into small smile. “Me too, Tulip. Me too.”

  “You said he had more than one?”

  Babe’s smile spread. “He’s also our official taster anytime Momma tries a new recipe. And it’s his nightly job to warm the bed before we crawl under the covers. He’s very efficient at those, as you might imagine.”

  Annis welcomed the laughter that bubbled out of her. After it subsided, she focused on Fin, who was watching Annis and Babe’s interactions. His eyes and ears were in constant motion, as though he were simultaneously tuning in to countless different things while never taking his attention from her.

  “You’d protect me, wouldn’t you?” she said, reaching down to scratch under his chin the way he liked.

  “He’d do more than that, Tulip,” Babe said, watching the two. “He’d kill for you. Anyone ever tried to lay a hand on you, there’d be nothing left. Fin would see to that.”

  Annis gradually lifted her head, turning her attention back to Babe. When their eyes met, she didn’t have to ask the question burning in her mind because the answer was written all over Babe’s face. Annis hadn’t been chosen at random to foster the wolf pup. Babe had wanted her to have him because she knew all along that he would grow to be her guardian. And they both knew what no one else did. She needed one.

  “It’s the one job you’ll never have to train him for,” Babe said, nudging her with her elbow. “Unlike helping us with the wash. He’ll need loads of practice and I think we should start right now.”

  Annis forced a grin, still shaking off the weight of the memories of her past. For some reason she found a twisted sort of comfort in lingering in the dank, dark space that fear and pain provided her. She always needed a taste of it before she could spit it out and move on.

  “Better start with the linens,” she said, going through the motions of sorting the laundry as she waited to for the flavor of her pain to turn sour and purge itself from her system, at least for the time being. “Momma will need those tonight and they might not dry in time otherwise.”

  “Suppose you’re right,” Babe admitted. “We don’t need any of these costumes until tomorrow. Far as I know, everyone’s set for tonight’s show.”

  Trudging along as though their empty pie plates each weighed several tons, they made their way back to the tent that currently housed not only Babe’s extensive wardrobe but also a great deal of dirty laundry.

  “Here,” Annis said, holding the rope end of a laundry sack out to Fin. “Take this outside, would you?” She laughed at herself for her foolish demand. But then he took the rope between his teeth, gripping it tight and waiting for her to make the next move. Annis stopped laughing. “Really? You’re going to do this? Just like that?” But now was not the time to wait for him to learn to respond in English. Instead, accepting her good fortune, she picked up a large wicker basket mounding high with towels and tablecloths, and lead the way outside to the wash buckets and washboards that Francis had already set up for them.

  “See if you can make him scrub the stains out of these next, would you, Tulip?” Babe joked, holding a handful of aprons out to her.

  “I’m not sure we’re ready for that quite yet,” she said, a giggle setting in where the darkness of her past had resided before. Light was always stronger than the darkness, and love and laughter were light’s greatest sources. These days Annis tended to have plenty of both.

  Aside from the occasional quip about wolves doing laundry and other household chores, they worked steadily without much distraction. Before long, Annis and Babe had drawn up clotheslines all around. The clothes and linens formed a maze to get in and out of Babe and Hugh’s corner of camp. By the time they finished the laundry, the sun was already setting.

  “It’s my least favorite part of winter,” Babe said watching the bright orange slowly dim. “The days are far too short, the nights far too long.”

  “You don’t like the nights?” It seemed odd to Annis, given most of their days were spent building up to the show, which always took place after dark, no matter what the season.

  “I like the nights.” Babe lifted an empty basket off the ground to take it back inside. “I just don’t like having to do daytime things when it’s no longer daytime. And somehow, all the things that need doing never do seem to adjust to fit the hours we have to do them in.”

  “Hadn’t ever thought of that.” Annis followed Babe with several empty laundry sacks.

  “That’s because you have young eyes and can see in the dark,” Babe said, and then chuckled. “Some of us older girls aren’t so lucky.”

  “Well, from now on just use my good eyes, then, for the things that need doing,” Annis offered. “I mean it. Consider me at your service from now until spring.”

  Babe gave Annis a squeeze and kissed her cheek, making a loud smacking sound and leaving a bright pink imprint of lips. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Please do,” Annis insisted. “But for now, I think I’m going to take my good eyes and see what sort of trouble I can get into before supper.”

  “Make it good,” Babe called out after her as she slipped out the door and into oncoming dusk.

  Good trouble was easy to come by. Annis knew all too well the best places to find it. So, walking quietly with Fin at her side, she tuned in to all the noises surrounding her, then one by one, began to shut them out, until she’d zeroed in on the voices she was seeking. Smiling with delight before she even reached them, she weaved in and out of the people still wandering about and finishing last-minute tasks before supper and the show that would follow.

  “There you lot are,” Annis said in her most accusing tone as soon as found them, all huddled around a small fire behind the animal tent.

  Each of the seven sets of eyes staring back at her looked startled.

  “Oh,” Sawyer said, waving his hand and dismissing the threat. “It’s just you.”

  “Why do you always do that?” Mabel asked, still clutching her chest from the fright Annis had caused her.

  “Because it’s fun. And it’s so easy,” she teased, dropping down to the ground between Sequoyah Mabel and stretching out her legs to warm her feet by the fire. “What are you trying not to get caught doing right now, anyway?”

  “Not doing anything yet,” Maude said, rubbing her hands together to generate extra heat between her palms. “Still in the plotting phase.”

  “Plotting’s m
y favorite,” Annis said, looking around at everyone. “What are we plotting?”

  “Christmas,” Sequoyah told her with a smirk.

  “Christmas?” Annis wasn’t sure if it was right to feel so disappointed. “What’s there to plot about Christmas?”

  “Oh, Annis,” Sawyer said, shaking his head at her, his eyes glistening with pity as they reflected the fire’s flickering flames. “Poor, poor Annis. Circus Christmas isn’t like normal Christmas, you sad, silly girl.”

  “It’s not?” Her interest was piqued. “What’s so different about it? Are there pranks? Do we hang a tree from the circus tent ceiling? Dress Sawyer up as Santa and have the monkeys pull him on a sleigh? Oh, if we don’t then we should!”

  Annis could tell from the way Mabel’s face lit up that she wholeheartedly agreed.

  Sawyer’s sour expression showed less enthusiasm. “Why am I always at the center of your most insulting ideas?”

  “Why are you always insisting I’m poor, sad, and silly? Think that’s a particularly flattering combination?” Annis demanded. “It’s not.”

  “True,” he agreed. “And you forgot pitiful. It may go unspoken at times, but I’m always thinking it.”

  “Children, children,” Homer’s baritone cut through their arguing. “Can we get back to talking Circus Christmas? The real sort?” Then, he turned toward Annis’s general direction. “Though I’d like to revisit that monkey sleigh idea when we have time.”

  “Harris would never go for it,” Goldilocks chimed in.

  “Right,” Sawyer added grumpily. “The monkeys would be hard to get. They’d be the reason this wouldn’t work. Not the part where I said no.”

  “You always say no,” Caroline pointed out. “You never mean it. It’s just your starting point.”

  “It’s true,” Maude agreed. “If you really meant no when you said no, we’d have far less fond memories of you.”