The Book of Speculation: A Novel

“Come, let us see what you have,” Peabody called from the beach.

Amos stared at the ribbon and caressed the ribs in the weave as he had each time she’d hung the dress to dry. He turned away from the shore and squeezed the scrap of fabric, rubbing at it until it rasped his skin. He moved toward the depths and the current. Peabody yelled to him, but Amos did not listen. The weight of the Les Ferez costume kept him so heavy that the water could not lift him. He disregarded the shout and did not hear the splash.

He was underwater when Peabody reached him. A sodden cotton-covered arm grabbed Amos from behind, pulling him back. Amos fought and kicked, but his clothing slowed him. Peabody hooked another arm under his shoulder and, with strength neither knew he possessed, hauled Amos back to shore.

“Do not fight me,” Peabody gasped as Amos struggled. “If you fight me you will drown us both. Do you hear? You’ll drown me, boy.”

Amos surrendered and let himself be dragged. He let the water wash over him and clung to the ribbon. It smelled strongly of salt, the way her hair often had. When they came to rest on the sand, Peabody dropped him to his back.

“I will not have it. It will not do,” he said between splutters. “Two of you gone at once, it is not to be borne.” When Amos sat up, Peabody pounded him on the back until he coughed out water. “I have fed you, clothed you, given you all I ever possessed. And you would walk away from me.”

A kitten cry rose up from the sand.

“I’d not taken you for a fool. Silent yes, but a fool, no.” He extended an arm to Amos, waiting for him to take it. The crying continued. Amos grabbed the proffered hand. Peabody led him to where Bess lay wrapped in his burgundy velvet coat. Amos’s hair was crusted with salt and sand, and Peabody’s clothing hung like a wet sack. At the sight of them, Bess let out a delighted squeal. Amos stared at his daughter—small, round, with Evangeline’s eyes. Painful to look upon.

For a moment he wished she’d drowned like Charlotte in the river, that if Bess had not been born Evangeline would be with him. He sickened at the thought and took the child.

“Good lad,” said Peabody. “We’ll make you a father.”

*

It would be two more days before the menagerie moved on. Peabody was touched by a gray sadness and tried to attribute it to the downturn in accounts. He did not examine this feeling with a close eye, nor did he knock at Amos’s door. He ordered food and goat’s milk be left at the Les Ferez steps and kept vigil from his wagon to make sure it was taken.

Amos watched his daughter. Fed her. Slept little.

As days wore on it was decided that he must be coaxed out. Benno was sent to get him. When Amos refused to open the door, he resorted to the metal strips to open the lock. Amos’s appearance stunned Benno into muttering a short oath.

The fabric that had once decorated the wagon’s interior had been torn down, shredded and thrown about the room. Amos crouched over Bess. Hair wild, eyes sunken; his arms bore deep red scratches from where he’d clawed at himself.

“Oh,” Benno murmured. “I am sorry. I am so sorry.” He offered Amos his hand, but Amos pulled away. Benno leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. Amos gave him his back.

For the better part of an hour, they sat in silence. At last Benno spoke. “You would not remember how you were when you first came to us. Barely here. Mostly we did not see you, and when we did,” he sliced his hand in the air and made a sound through his teeth. “Fft. Nothing. You were an empty glass. Fragile, I thought. Then I start to see you with the small horse, and you begin to remind me of my youngest brother. And you were kind to me. I am not one whom people are often kind to. I tell myself I will look after you. When Ryzhkova begins to teach you, I thought good.” Benno scratched the back of his head and then pounded it against the wall. “Then Evangeline.” He felt Amos’s eyes on him and a chill ran through his bones. “Ryzhkova feared her. She asked me to watch over you. Protect you.” A dry laugh came from his chest. Amos tilted his head at the sound. “And I think to myself, what could be so fearsome that would drive Ryzhkova to leave? And so I watched. And then I saw Evangeline sneaking away. Then the river died, and then the town … I am sorry.”