And yet. And yet. She wasn’t numb. She felt like one of the lions or elephants, a caged animal being forced to perform. She used to work the gig on the same schedule as the rest of the sideshow, but then the lines grew longer and longer, and some of the rubes willingly missed part of the big top to see her. Now, her tent was open all day, from the opening of the doors to the final curtain, with two short breaks to rest and have a meal. At the end of those long days, her emotions were spent, and the only thing that made her feel better was spending time in the menagerie.
If it were up to her, she would have gotten a job with Hank taking care of the bulls, mucking out stalls, filling water and feed buckets, giving them treats and patting their trunks—the smallest and perhaps only bit of comfort they would find in the circus. The circus trainers and performers claimed to love the animals, but as soon as the show was over they put them back in their stalls and cages and forgot about them until the next performance. Sure, the animals were fed and housed, and examined by a vet if they were hurt or ill, but Lilly and Cole were the only ones who talked to them, played with them, and gave them extra scratches and rubs. And they did it every night.
Last night in the menagerie, when she told Cole she had turned away the line of rubes, he begged her to hide in his car until Merrick cooled off. But she refused. It wouldn’t be fair to get him involved. He was her best friend and everyone knew it and accepted it, maybe because they had been children when it first began. But that meant if Merrick didn’t find Lilly in her car, Cole’s car would be the first place he’d look. Now, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Maybe she should have taken Cole up on his offer. At least he’d be there to protect her.
Part of her hoped no one would tell Merrick, but she knew better. Anyone who held back that information would be in trouble too. And then there was Viktor, whose loyalty rested with Merrick no matter how badly he treated his sister, Glory. Everyone had warned Lilly over the years never to bad-mouth Merrick in front of Viktor, or to do anything that might affect Merrick’s bottom line. Now she wondered if Viktor would be the first one to tell Merrick what she had done. The other women said they couldn’t blame her for shutting down her act, but she knew it wouldn’t matter to Merrick.
Thinking about it now, she could hardly believe what happened. To trick the rubes waiting to see The Albino Medium, Alana went down the line with a ledger and wrote down the name of the departed loved one each rube hoped to reach, in the guise of a money-back guarantee. She only did a few at a time because the waiting area tent next to The Albino Medium’s tent only held ten people. But unbeknownst to the rubes, Alana wrote the names down twice, once in her ledger and again on another slip of paper, which she moved to her pocket unseen. And if the rube was a mark—a townie with a fat wallet, singled out by the ticket seller with a friendly slap on the back that left a chalk mark—it was noted on the paper too, so Lilly could offer a more “in-depth” reading for an extra charge. After ushering ten rubes into the waiting area tent, Alana transferred the list to Merrick, who gave the names to Lilly one at a time. Sometimes, when Merrick was gone, Leon, the old man who found her locked in the animal cage all those years ago, took his place.
The inside of The Albino Medium’s tent was decorated with red and black curtains, shiny beads, mirrors, and dark rugs. The only light came from three candles in pewter holders on a round, antique table in the middle of the tent, with two chairs on either side—one an elaborately carved throne for Lilly, the other a cane-backed chair for the rube. Pierre—a midget who used to work as a clown until he broke his pelvis during the “baby in a burning building” act—hid inside a wardrobe with sliding panels, where he could clap, whistle, or play the harmonica or tambourine without being seen. Sometimes he snuck out of his hiding place to touch the rubes with wool-stuffed evening gloves, or to produce a glowing light or other moving object in the dark, like a woman’s hankie on the end of a stick. Other times, a “spirit baby”—a stuffed shape concealed beneath the tabletop and attached to a stick worked by Lilly’s foot—peered over the edge of the table when called from the netherworld. And when Lilly asked a spirit to ring the bell beneath a glass globe in the center of the table, Pierre rang a bell inside the wardrobe.
It was a clever setup, and word quickly spread that The Albino Medium was authentic. But every time the bell rang or the tambourine jingled, every time Lilly relayed a special message from the great beyond and the grieving person’s facial expressions changed from sadness to surprise, from doubt to gratitude, guilt clawed at her throat. It was a lie, all of it. And seeing the rubes’ tear-stained faces broke her heart.
It was late yesterday afternoon when a strange-acting man came into the tent, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, a wool scarf over his mouth, his hat pulled down over his forehead. At first, Lilly thought wearing a scarf in the middle of summer seemed odd. Then she reminded herself that she had done readings for a woman in bathing trunks, an old lady dressed like a gypsy, and someone in a chicken costume. She had seen men in women’s skirts, toddlers wearing cat ears, and boys with earrings. Nothing surprised her anymore.
She gestured for the man to sit down across from her and thought briefly how the scarf did little to hide the smell of alcohol on his breath. Then, like a trained animal, she began her spiel in a low, even voice. “Hello and welcome. Before we begin, let me tell you a little bit about what I do. I’ve been communicating with the dead since the age of four and eventually came to realize I needed to share my gift. Messages from the beyond can come in the form of music, voices, and other sounds. What I’d like you to do is close your eyes and think about the person you’re hoping to hear from. While you’re doing that, I’ll try to connect with the spirit world. Then I’ll ask you some questions, to which you must answer either yes or no. Are you ready to begin?”
The man stared at her but said nothing. Candlelight flickered in his bloodshot eyes.
“Is there someone special you’d like to hear from today?” she said.
The man shifted in his chair. “Yes,” he mumbled.
“All right,” she said. “Please think about your loved one while I concentrate on—”
“I’m looking for my daughter.”
Alarms went off in Lilly’s head. Leon had told her the next name on the list was Barbara, the rube’s dead wife. Her mind raced and she tried to come up with a new plan. If she got this wrong or Leon mixed up the names, it could mean big trouble. “I see,” she said. “Please know that I’m very sorry for your loss. Perhaps we should start by—”
“She’s not dead.”
Lilly frowned, confused. “Okay,” she said. “Um . . . You do understand I’m here to help people connect with their departed loved ones, right? Are you sure you’re in the right tent?”
He nodded. “I’m in the right tent. My daughter’s name is Lilly.”