Come Ride the Wonder

by Tamsin Marischal

“Oh, I don’t know about this, Clifton. The smells are so pungent!” Mrs. Simmons fussed with the ribbon on her straw hat, looking about her with a wary eye.

            Theodora ignored her mother’s complaint and breathed in scents of cut grass and roasting peanuts that overpowered the animal musk. The jaunty calliope music lightened her spirits, and she smiled at the excited children running by her in the golden afternoon.

One boy’s hand brushed Theodora’s wrist as he edged past her, and the touch brought a vision of him dropping a sausage roll as he clutched his throat, eyes wide with fear. Theodora watched the boy meet up with his friends, talking and laughing and in no apparent danger. Then Clifton’s broad face hovered over hers, blocking her view, and she frowned. Theodora knew her reaction to Clifton Daes was not typical, especially among the ladies of Cedar Glen, who cooed and fluttered over his thick chestnut-colored hair, dimpled chin and bottomless trust fund. 

They would believe Theodora mad, indeed, if they knew she had almost chosen to remain in the sanitarium rather than marry him. Almost.

            “Dearest, is this too much for you? Should we return to the carriage?” Clifton took her hand. She sees and feels Clifton’s hand crushing her fingers. Theodora cries out and crumples to a marble floor. 

Theodora studied her hand engulfed in his, looking for the bruises she felt, but found only the emerald engagement ring winking up at her. It pinched her finger like a gilded shackle. She reminded herself what she envisioned was not a memory. Clifton had never hurt her. Not yet anyway. Theodora looked up and mustered a smile. 

            “I think this is a splendid outing. I’m already becoming accustomed to the exotic aromas, aren’t you, Mama? Do you think we’ll see an elephant?”

            With a nod, Theodora encouraged Clifton to escort her mother past the painted canvas sign tied to the open gate.

WELCOME TO
THE
1898 FITZ & STARR
CIRCUS EXTRAVAGANZA
AND
CARNIVAL OF WONDERS

No Drunkenness, Cursing, or Petting the Animals

She followed, pretending for a few sweet moments she had come to the circus alone.

*** 

            Damn! Almost missed – again! Bloody Hell! Hugo pivoted his body in the ring so that he couldn’t see the woman in the stands, who he kept watching instead of the flying pins.

Jem raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react to Hugo falling out of step. Their routine was new. Jem was the straight man, juggling pins while Hugo made a big show of throwing an apple into the mix, only to pluck it back. So far, it was getting big laughs when he bit a chunk out of the apple before tossing it in again. 

Then the gag followed. Hugo grabbed a pin, instead of an apple, and pretended to bite it, leaving two enormous fake teeth embedded in the pin. They finished with the tried-and-true bits of chasing each other around the ring with pratfalls and exaggerated expressions on their painted faces.

            If the applause was a sign, no one had noticed Hugo’s near misses. Running from the ring to make way for the lion act, Hugo stole another look at the woman sitting just a few feet from him. 

She was wedged, like a child, between an overfed matron and an overdressed galoot, but there was nothing childish about the way she stared back at him with eyes the color of a stormy sea. He bet she could bring on the lightning too, for she burned brighter than anyone in the crowd. Bright like a Rider.

            The wasp hiding in his hair buzzed in his ear. She had noticed the woman too. On impulse, Hugo tossed the lady an apple. He bowed to her when she caught it and left the tent.

“What the hell was that all about?” Jem asked as they moved from the big top to the back of the field where their family wagons were circled. “With the pretty blond lady? I’ve never seen a gal throw you off balance like that before.”

            “I think she’s a Rider, Jem. Like us.” 

***

Theodora Mae Simmons! Don’t even think about eating that apple! There’s no telling what those carnival people have done to it! Throw it down!”

Theodora rolled the apple between her palms and thought about the man who had tossed it to her. Just a clown wearing shiny trousers and a silly pointed hat. He couldn’t even be considered handsome with the hard planes on his face competing with all that unruly hair. No, he was beautiful. He seemed to burn with his own light that made the air shimmer around him as he moved. She couldn’t stop watching him.

A wasp rounded the far side of the apple and stung Theodora’s finger. She yelped and dropped the apple as the little blackguard buzzed away.

“Oh my! Theodora! Your finger!” Mrs. Simmons fluttered her arms and popped up and down on her rump like a chicken mired in tar. “Clifton! Do something!”

Clifton was fascinated by the lion act and didn’t respond. Theodora gasped when she glanced at the creature prancing in the ring and thought it to be a naked woman. When she blinked and refocused, it was a big cat, but a big cat who winked at her and grinned. Theodora covered her confusion by turning back to her mother.

“Mama – hush! My finger is still intact!” Though I’m not sure my sanity is, Theodora thought.

It wasn’t until Mrs. Simmons’ screeching rose another octave that Clifton diverted his attention from the lion. There was a predatory gleam in his eye that Theodora had never seen outside of her visions of him. Then his wicked expression faded into the handsome but bland one of which Theodora was accustomed. Clifton looked at Theodora’s stung finger.

“Dearest, are you feeling faint? I will find a doctor!”

Theodora wanted to laugh but feared it might erupt from her like a scream. “No need. It is just a little sting.”

As she spoke, the boy who had jostled her earlier walked past their block of risers on his way out to the midway. Theodora amended her statement. “But it is swelling. I’ll inquire at the refreshment wagon if they have any vanilla or baking soda to treat it.”

“Clifton, go with her.”

“Nonsense, Mama. I’m not going to leave you here alone.”

Mrs. Simmons sighed. “Then we’ll all go.”

Theodora abandoned her efforts to leave them behind but chose not to wait for them. She gathered her skirts in her good hand and stepped down.

She spotted the boy. He wore the same bright suspenders and striped shirt that she’d seen in her vision. If nothing else, she could admonish him to chew better, or not talk with his mouth full. Perhaps she could convince him fairy floss was a better choice than sausage.

“Theodora! Wait!” She turned as her mother and Clifton caught up to her. She also saw the clown behind them, watching her. Their eyes met and he waved, smiling.

“I’ve had enough. Clifton, be a dear and retrieve the carriage.” Mrs. Simmons pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and held it to her nose.

“Clifton, wait. Mama, I want to ensure that the boy over there is unharmed. I’ve seen …” Theodora’s words fizzled out as she watched her mother’s face harden and her eyes go as flat and gray as old dimes.

“No more of that witchery nonsense,” Mrs. Simmons whispered. “You promised.”

“Or what, Mama? You’ll imprison me again in the hospital?”

A woman’s scream drowned out whatever her mother answered.

“He’s choking! Help!” Everyone turned toward the refreshment wagon where the boy clutched his throat, eyes bugging.

As the crowd circled the boy, Theodora felt herself pulled back by her hand, and in a heartbeat’s time, found herself hidden in an alleyway between two tents with the clown. She sees him toss a toddler into the air and catch him. They both laugh over the roar of the tide striking a rocky shore. 

The images faded, though the sounds of the ocean and the laughter lingered. The clown let go of her hand and said something she missed.

“Pardon me, what - ”

“I hope I didn’t scare you, but I didn’t know how else to speak with you alone.” The man’s voice, soft with an Irish lilt, settled over her like a warm blanket.

“A boy is choking!” Theodora pointed toward the midway.

“That’s not the first lad who’s strangled on a dog in front of Harry’s wagon. Harry’s got it under control, I imagine.” As if on cue, a cheer went up.

“Thank goodness!” Theodora sighed. “Earlier, when I saw ...” She looked up into the man’s face painted with bright blue stars. Heavy kohl lining his hazel eyes couldn’t hide the warmth in them. Would he call her crazy if she finished her sentence? She didn’t think so. Not this glowing man.

“I saw him choking. Before he choked.”

He grinned. “I knew it. You’re a Rider.”

“A Rider?” She heard the emphasis he placed on the name. Theodora didn’t think he was speaking about riding horses, or even elephants.

“That’s what we call it. Ol’ Fitz used to say we gifted folk can harness a miracle and ride the world’s wonders.”

“Theodora? Theodora!” Mrs. Simmons’ voice carried over the midway.

The clown drew her toward the edge of the field where the circus wagons were parked in a ring. Many of the performers and carnies milling about captured the light like the clown. Perhaps not exactly like the clown. When they smiled at her, Theodora wondered if she looked different to them as well.

They stood by a wagon painted red and black. Nestled under the wagon’s eave was a wasps’ nest twice the size of Theodora’s head. She had never seen one so big or so close. It was made of pale dust-colored layers of papery fiber, swirled together in intricate marbled patterns. A few wasps crawled over their sculpture, humming.

“I’m prattling on like an idjit. I’m Hugo Starr. My name is with Fitz’s on the sign, but the circus belongs to all of us.”

“Theodora Simmons.” She held out her swollen hand that looked like a berry, with the wasp sting a blinding white seed in its puffy middle. She wondered if she’d receive another vision if Hugo touched her. 

She felt a different kind of charge when he stroked her hand, frowning over the welt. “I’m sorry, my little friend was curious about you and got excited.” Then Hugo leaned over her hand and brushed his mouth against the sting.

The pain eased, even though the swelling remained. Still bent over her hand, Hugo looked up and winked. “A little trick I’m working on.”

“What are you?” She eyed the wasps’ nest above them.

He stood, laughing. “I’m human. But I understand these little buggers and we grant each other favors from time to time.”

“And the lion is really a human, isn’t she?”

“That’s debatable. We think Delilah might be a lion masquerading as a woman.”

“So it’s employing some sort of magic when you ‘ride the wonder’?”

“Some call it magic. Or maybe we just get on with nature better than most. My mate Jem can make it rain. Others bend luck and light. But we haven’t had one who can Ride time and fate since Ol’ Fitz left. Your talent is rare, even among us.”

Theodora’s eyes misted. “There are others like me?” She wasn’t insane. Or alone.

“I suspect, Miss Simmons, there is no one quite like you. But aye, there are. You wouldn’t be looking for a job now, would you? We have need of a fortune teller.”

“A job. My life, call it what you will.”

“Perhaps we’ll call it an escape.” Hugo eyes flicked beyond where they stood. Neither acknowledged the cries of Clifton and her mother calling for her and asking others to search.

Hugo looked at her ring. “That fancy man your beau?”

“He’s Mama’s solution for our dilemma. Papa left us nothing when he died. Clifton is rich, so when he asked to court me, Mama encouraged it, to the point of holding me prisoner in a sanitarium until I agreed to marry him.”

Anger enflamed Hugo’s face, but his voice was cool when he murmured, “So there’s no love lost.”

“I’ve had visions, horrible images of Clifton … enraged. Hurting me. When I told Mama why I wouldn’t marry him, she believed me hysterical, even insane. She packed me off to the hospital for ‘a rest.’ I agreed to go, believing I could hide from Clifton until he grew tired of waiting, but he didn’t. The doctor wouldn’t release me until I promised to stop talking about visions and marry Clifton.”

“Then come ride the wonder with us, Theodora Simmons. We leave Cedar Glen tonight, heading west to Silver Falls if you want to collect your things and meet up with us.”

Theodora tried to think of any item in her drab room she’d miss. Nothing came to mind but fears of doors locked from the outside, her mother shadowing her every step, and Clifton dragging her from the church altar into a nightmare.

“It’s now or never if I’m to be free. I choose to go with the Riders.” With you, Hugo Starr, she added silently. The baby you toss in the air will have my eyes.

If Theodora had any doubts, the delight that spread across Hugo’s face melted them away. Then he said, “Your mum and that Clifton will have authorities tossing the place right quick, so there’s no stowing you away. We’ll have to hide you in plain sight.”

“But how? Wear an acrobat’s tutu? Become a clown? Scrub away the grease paint and my face would be revealed.”

            Hugo studied the welt on her finger, then gazed up at the nest. He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke in a rush. “I have an idea. Not a brilliant one. Maybe the only thing to recommend it is that we can do it here and now. I’ll do my best to comfort you, but it will hurt.”

Theodora opened her mouth to respond, but then the sound of Clifton’s voice, tinged with anger and demanding Theodora come to him now, stopped her cold. “Do it.” The ladies of Cedar Glen would shudder at the thought of embracing a life in the circus, and trusting a stranger, but then they also believed Clifton Daes to be a catch.

            “I’ll call the girls up.” Hugo walked to the wasps’ nest and reached to lay his hands upon it, humming. The shimmer around him intensified and the nest vibrated. Wasps streamed out.

Theodora closed her eyes when they settled on her face like a rippling dark mask. She hissed when they stung her. Then Hugo rained tiny cool kisses along her jaw, on her brow, against her mouth. She feels herself with Hugo, moves with him, skin to skin. A campfire crackles. Over Hugo’s shoulder she sees stars in a midnight velvet sky and mountains dark against the edge of the world. Hugo whispers against her neck. Theodora sighed, the pain forgotten.

***

            “We can’t delay them any longer. Lined up every carny, clown, roustabout and trapeze artist. We’ve searched every wagon and trunk. They don’t even have a cage they could have locked her in, which is damned odd for a circus. Unless the lion ate her, she’s not here. I’ve got men combing the outlying fields and the river, but I’m confident Miss. Simmons has made her way home by now. I suggest you inquire with her mother.” The sheriff nodded and blended in with the confusion of the dismantling circus. 

            Clifton stood unmoving. What was there left to do – wait until the circus people cleared out and hope to find Theodora abandoned in the field along with the animal dung and empty popcorn bags? He turned and collided with a body.

            “Watch yourself, boy!” Clifton huffed. He’d lost his hat on impact. By the time he had retrieved it and found his balance, the boy was moving past him with a grunted apology. He was an ugly little bastard – Clifton had glimpsed a blotched, misshapen face under a hat pulled down low on his brow. Pox scars? More like welts or bites. For an instant something seemed familiar about the boy, but the thought dissipated as Clifton shoved his hat back on his head and stalked away.

            Around midnight, Clifton had deposited the hysterical Mrs. Simmons on her doorstep and had returned to the circus grounds in the wee hours on horseback. He had promised the old man minding his horse a coin. Clifton fumbled in his coat pocket and his fingertips grazed cool metal.

He extracted his hand to discover Theodora’s engagement ring speared on his fingertip. 

He bounced it on his palm, watching the emerald catch the morning light. He closed his fingers on it and squeezed until the prongs in the setting cut into his skin. 

Clifton looked across the road to the emptying field. Did she mean Goodbye? Or Game On?

Clifton tucked the ring back in his pocket and shook his head. He found a penny in the other pocket and handed it to the man as he claimed the reins.

            Regrettable. He’d been eager to obtain Theodora. There was something different about her that intrigued him. Clifton suspected Theodora would have been a challenge to master and break, and now he’d never know the pleasure. Perhaps their paths would cross again. He rather enjoyed a good circus.

***

As Clifton’s horse trotted east toward Cedar Glen, the roustabout with the swollen face climbed up on a wagon beside a dark-haired smiling man. He clucked to the pair of horses hitched to the wagon and it joined the caravan rolling out of the field. The wagon was red and black and hosted an old wasp’s nest on the back and a new sign painted on the side.

MADAME ZARINDA
FORTUNES TOLD ONE CENT
Not responsible for impending joys, tragedies or misspent chances.
Your future is yours to do with as you will.
 

The wagon headed west. Toward the mountains. Toward the ocean and the promise of a child’s laughter ringing over the surf.

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