I rise from my chair and step forward. “Well, you have to admit there’s a certain—”
Uncle Al turns, plants both hands squarely on my chest and shoves me so hard I fall backward onto a trunk.
He twists around to August. “That fucking bull cost me a fortune! She’s the reason I couldn’t pay the men and had to take care of business and caught heat from the goddamned railroad authority! And for what? The goddamned thing won’t perform and she steals the fucking lemonade!”
“Al!” August says sharply. “Watch your mouth. I’ll have you remember you’re in the presence of a lady.”
Uncle Al’s head swivels. He regards Marlena without remorse and turns back to August.
“Woody’s going to tally up the losses,” he says. “I’m taking it from your pay.”
“You’ve already taken it from the roustabouts,” Marlena says quietly. “Are you planning to return their money?”
Uncle Al gazes upon her and I like his expression so little I step forward until I’m between them. He turns his gaze to me, his jaw grinding in anger. Then he turns and marches out.
“What a jerk,” says Marlena, going back to her dressing table. “I could have been getting dressed.”
August stands utterly still. Then he reaches for his top hat and bull hook.
Marlena sees this in the mirror. “Where are you going?” she says quickly. “August, what are you doing?”
He heads for the doorway.
She grabs his arm. “Auggie! Where are you going?”
“I’m not the only one who’s going to pay for the lemonade,” he says, shaking her off.
“August, no!” She grabs his elbow again. This time she throws her weight into it, trying to prevent him from leaving. “August, wait! For God’s sake. She didn’t know. We’ll secure her better next time—”
August wrenches free and Marlena crashes to the ground. He looks at her in utter disgust. Then he plants his hat on his head and turns away.
“August!” she shrieks. “Stop!”
He pushes the flap open and is gone. Marlena sits, stunned, exactly where she fell. I look from her to the flap and then back again.
“I’m going after him,” I say, heading for the doorway.
“No! Wait!”
I freeze.
“There’s no use,” she says, her voice hollow and small. “You can’t stop him.”
“I can sure as hell try. I did nothing last time and I’ll never forgive myself.”
“You don’t understand! You’ll only make it worse! Jacob, please! You don’t understand!”
I spin to face her. “No! I don’t! I don’t understand anything anymore. Not a damned thing. Would you care to enlighten me?”
Her eyes open wide. Her mouth forms an O. Then she buries her face in her hands and bursts into tears.
I stare, horrified. Then I fall to my knees and gather her in my arms.
“Oh, Marlena, Marlena—”
“Jacob,” she whispers into my shirt. She clings to me as tightly as if I were keeping her from being sucked into a vortex.
Sixteen
“My name isn’t Rosie. It’s Rosemary. You know that, Mr. Jankowski.”
I am startled into awareness, blinking up into the unmistakable glare of fluorescent lighting.
“Eh? What?” My voice is thin, reedy. A black woman leans over me, tucking something around my legs. Her hair is fragrant and smooth.
“You called me Rosie just a minute ago. My name is Rosemary,” she says, straightening up. “There, now isn’t that better?”
I stare at her. Oh God. That’s right. I’m old. And I’m in bed. Wait a minute—I called her Rosie?
“I was talking? Out loud?”
She laughs. “Oh dear, yes. Oh yes, Mr. Jankowski. You’ve been talking a blue streak since we left the lunchroom. Just talking my ear off.”
My face flushes. I stare at the clawed hands in my lap. God only knows what I’ve been saying. I only know what I’ve been thinking, and even that’s in retrospect—until I suddenly found myself here, now, I thought I was there.
“Why, what’s the matter?” Rosemary says.
“Did I . . . Did I say anything . . . you know, embarrassing?”
“Heavens, no! I don’t understand why you haven’t told the others, what with everyone going to the circus and all. I’ll bet you’ve never even mentioned it though, have you?”
Rosemary watches me expectantly. Then her brow furrows. She pulls a chair over and sits next to me. “You don’t remember talking to me, do you?” she says gently.
I shake my head.
She takes both my hands in hers. They are warm and firmly fleshed. “You said nothing to be embarrassed of, Mr. Jankowski. You’re a fine gentleman and I’m honored to know you.”
My eyes fill, and I drop my head so she won’t see.
“Mr. Jankowski—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“About the circus?”
“No. About . . . Oh hell, don’t you understand? I didn’t even realize I was talking. It’s the beginning of the end. It’s all downhill from here, and I didn’t have very far to go. But I was really hoping to hang on to my brains. I really was.”
“You still have your brains, Mr. Jankowski. You’re sharp as a tack.”