She had on one of her best dresses, a flowery print with a cinched waist, and although she knew she was probably overdressed for the circus, she’d be damned if she’d go out in public looking like a peasant or a frumpy housewife. What’s more, she wanted Lotte to see her looking her best, that she hadn’t let the day-to-day drudgery of her life as a servant turn her into an unfashionable hag.
Alex grabbed her hand. “When is Daddy coming home? When is Daddy coming home? I want to go to the circus now. Elephants. You said there would be elephants, and giraffes.”
It was odd how the tiny little kid was always going on about the biggest of the beasts, she thought. “All right, all right, keep your pants on, we’re going as soon as your father gets home and has his lunch. And what about you? Did you eat that cheese sandwich I made you?”
“I don’t want a sandwich. I want to go the circus.”
The kid was wound tighter than a two-bit watch. He was making her nervous, and she never got nervous. It was going to take some smooth maneuvering to get him to toss the knives. “Now, Alex, do you remember what we talked about? How you are going to show my friend Lotte how you can throw the knives into the bull’s-eye? Remember how you promised me?”
“You promised elephants and giraffes first.”
“Right. Give me your pinky.” They looped their little fingers together. “O.K.?”
“O.K.”
She checked her watch. The plan was to get to the circus well before three o’clock, when they were supposed to meet Lotte and this Markham guy, the one that booked the talent, so Alex could see the animals in their cages before the show, and before he threw. It was past noon already. Where the hell was Abe? She decided she couldn’t wait any longer. “Alex, let’s get this show on the road. Benjamin, you tell your father we just couldn’t wait anymore, all right? We’ll meet you at the main entrance in a few hours. About four o’clock. Wait there for us.”
*
The oak trees were at their late summer fullest, and as he turned off Stratton Avenue and onto the far end of Mellon Street, Abe caught sight of the Browns’ little girl, whom he’d known since she was a toddler. She chased after her little brother around a thick tree trunk, and Abe thought, when had that tree gotten so big? It seemed as if the city had just planted them, but that was when Arthur was born, and that was, what, seventeen years ago now? They’d put them in every front yard, a feeble attempt to beautify the neighborhood, but half the saplings had died within a year. Irene had been so proud of their tree until it became infested with some kind of insect and rotted from the inside. Funny, he thought, how so many things reminded him of her.
A Ford Model T was parked in front of the Walsh’s house. They’d been the first on the block to have a car of their own. Abe couldn’t figure out how Walsh had swung it. Evidently the man was a damned good plumber when he wasn’t face down drunk.
It was the same kind of Ford the police had driven him to Penn Station in the day Hannah had run off with Alex. The boys in the shop had been stunned that day when the cops came by to pick him up. Regis Maloney had yelled, “Lock him up and throw away the keys, boys.”
The police escorted him down the steps of the station to the main concourse. His heart beat quicker as he saw Alex sitting on a high stool next to a security guard, eating a scoop of chocolate ice cream, half of which was spread over his cheeks. Alex leaped off the stool and into Abe’s outstretched arms. One of the policemen said, “Guess you’re his old man.”
The other officer pointed to Hannah. “You know her?”
Abe looked at the woman balled up in a fetal position on the floor. Hannah looked like a terrified, confused child and nothing like the pretty, alluring woman that had tempted him more than once. He said, “Yes.”
“You her husband?”
“No.”
“Because she says she’s waiting here for her husband to take her to Philadelphia or Indianapolis. You know anything about that?”
“I know she’s not married. She is supposed to be taking care of my son, but what the hell she’s doing here with him, I don’t know.”
Alex said, “Daddy, she tried to take me away on a train, but I wouldn’t let her.”
“What?”
One of the policemen took his hat off. “Actually, Miller, your boy here pretty much summed it up, from all we can gather. We got a witness saw the whole thing, this ticket clerk here.” He pointed to Mancuso, who was smoking another cheroot. “She come up to his booth but she was talking kind of crazy to him, didn’t even know how to buy a ticket, and when he saw her manhandling the boy, he called the guards.”
Smashing crackers. Abe hugged Alex tighter.
The other officer said, “Since she ain’t talking to us, at least nothing that makes sense, why don’t you tell us her name, where she lives?”
Alex said, “I told you. Her name is Hannah Gerson. She lives on Black Street.”
Abe brushed Alex’s hair. “He’s right.”
The policeman laughed. “You’re a pip, kiddo. You deserve a reward.”
“My daddy’s gonna take me to the circus.”
Right then, Abe realized he was not going to allow Alex to become some sideshow freak like a fat lady. Yeah, he’d take him to the circus, like he’d promised him, but that was it. If Delia didn’t like it, if she put up a stink, so be it. Alex Miller was his son, not hers.
He turned up the walkway to his house. As much as it pained him to remember that day, and how close Hannah had come to taking Alex away, or worse, at least things had turned out all right in the end.
Benjamin stood in the front doorway. “Dad, where were you?”
“Stuck on the trolley. Everyone ready?”
“Delia and Alex left almost an hour ago.”
*
A twelve-foot-high painting of an impossibly Reubenesque ballerina in a classic Arabesque pose decorated the outside of the circus wagon where Louis Markham sat and waited. He puffed a fat Cuban cigar and read the local paper, a habit he followed as the circus traveled from town to town. He liked to see how his ads came out, and if the copy were botched or the illustrations were smudged, he’d give the local advertising manager an earful of hell. Every few minutes or so, he checked the time on the gold watch tucked in his vest pocket.
He stood up and brushed ashes from his lap. He was a big man, more than six feet, with a beer barrel belly and bulbous nose pocked with gin blossoms. “Lotte, you sure this dame friend of yours and the eighth wonder of the world are gonna show up?”
“Sure I’m sure.” Lotte Henderson had curled her hair and dressed in the snug, glittery leotard she wore in the show, thinking that Delia would get a hoot out of her getup. She paced around the card table she’d set up in the middle of the wagon. On the table were three darts and three recently honed throwing knives, eight inches long, weighing seven ounces. A dartboard was mounted on the far wall of the wagon, and tied around it were three red balloons.
Markham belched. “Because I got better things to do with my time than wait around for just another freak show.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
Markham smiled a gap-toothed, gold-toothed smile. He scratched his crotch. “Come over here to Uncle Lou.”
“Aw, cut it out.”
“Maybe we got time for a quickie.” He rolled his tongue over his lips.
“Leave me alone, Lou. Didn’t you get enough last night?”
Markham took off his straw boater and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “A big man like me can never get enough.”
“Ha, you ain’t that big.” There was a quick rap on the door. “I told you she’d be here, didn’t I?” Lotte flung the door open. At first she saw nothing, but when she looked down, standing there were Bitty Betty Green, who was three feet, seven inches tall, and her husband Bobby Boy Green, who stood four feet one.
“You’re blocking the door,” said Bobby Boy.
The Legendary Little Greens were one of Louis Markham’s proudest discoveries. Not only could they juggle, they could toss miniature Indian clubs back and forth while they rode side by side on Shetland ponies. Their compact, plump bodies were squeezed into their show outfits, matching buckskins accentuated by ersatz emerald and ruby trim. Betty’s curls fell out beneath her pink cowgirl hat. Bobby Boy had on his blond wig that tilted slightly to the left. Bandoleers crisscrossed his chest.
Lotte backed away from the Greens. “What are they doing here?”
Markham said, “I want them to check out this kid. I need to know what I’m buying ain’t just another midget.”
“But darn it, Lou, they could spook him. They spook me and I see them every day.”
“Why don’t you go contort your ass over an open fire?” Bobby Boy said.
“Easy now, Bobby. Hi there, good-looking.” Markham picked up Betty and kissed her on the mouth.
Bobby Boy kicked Lou in the knee. “Watch it, Lou, the next one will be in your nuts.”
Lotte waved her arms. “You see, Lou, they’re nothing but trouble. Will you get them out of here, please?”
Lou set Betty down next to her husband, who grabbed her by the wrist. “Hey, what are you doing, kissing up to him?”
“Bobby, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Lou, please.”
Markham clipped the end off a fresh cigar. “Calm down, Lotte, you’ll live longer.”
In a squeaky voice, Bitty Betty said, “Don’t get sore, Lotte. Lou asked us. Besides, I just wanted to see the little thing. Me and Bobby Boy, we couldn’t have no children of our own.”
“Don’t blame me, baby, I ain’t the one shooting blanks.” Before he’d met Betty, Bobby Boy had fathered three children with two different women, one of whom was five feet ten inches tall.
Lou and Bobby Boy broke out a deck of cards. Five more minutes went by with nothing but the slap of cards on the table. Lotte was close to tears when more knocking came to the door. “Who else did you invite, Lou, the bearded lady?”
Standing on the steps were Delia and Alex, who had a helium balloon tied to his wrist. Delia laughed. “Hey, Lotte Henderson. Long time no see.”
“Oh my God, Dee! Is it really you?”
“In the flesh.”
“Look at you, you look gorgeous, you sure filled out nice.”
“So did you, Miss Elastic Lass.”
“Oh, stop with that hooey.” She grabbed Delia and hugged her. “Gosh, I thought you’d never get here.”
“Yeah, I know, sorry. We got lost over on Forbes Street, then he wanted something to eat and I had to show him around a little bit, he’s curious, you know how kids are. This one, his mouth runs a mile a minute, he had to see the elephants first. Hey, that’s quite the rag you’re wearing.”
“Oh, this old thing?” Lotte twirled around, then hugged Delia again. “It’s so great to see you, Dee. Come on in. And look at this boy. Oh my stars, is he ever precious. What’s your name, precious?”
“Alex Miller.” He dropped Delia’s hand and ran to touch the wall hung with posters of jewel-bedecked elephants, tigers leaping through rings of fire and acrobats riding unicycles on high wires. He bumped into Markham’s leg and pulled back.
“Well, this must be the wonder child,” Markham said. “Damn, he sure is small, I’ll say that for him.”
Lotte put herself between Alex and Markham. “Lou, this is my friend Delia Novak, from way back.” She giggled at her rhyme. “And this of course is little Alex. The kid I told you all about.”
Markham kneeled down near Alex. “How are you doing there, little fellow? Ready to do your stuff for me?” He touched Alex lightly on the cheek and chuckled. “Boy, but ain’t he something. I should have brought in the costume gal, she’d have a field day with this one. How old is he?”
“He’s six.”
“Get the hell out of here, he is? I’ll be damned if he ain’t almost as little as Tom Thumb,” Markham exclaimed, in reference to the famous dwarf P.T. Barnum had showcased a half-century earlier. “Bobby Boy, take a look.”
Alex recoiled away from Bobby. Delia said, “What do you think you’re doing, buddy?”
“Take it easy, Miss Novak, relax. I just need my diminutive friend here to take a look at your son. Calm down, sonny, he ain’t gonna hurt you. I just need to know what I’m buying before I’m buying.”
Delia said, “Lotte?’
“It’s all right, Dee, just give him a minute, it’s gonna be O.K.”
Bobby Boy sidled over to Alex. He poked around Alex’s legs, his head, took note of his long arms. “I don’t know what the hell he is, Lou, but I can tell you this much: with them arms of his, he ain’t no midget.”
Lou said, “You’re sure, Bobby.”
“Hey, Lou, you ever heard the expression, ‘it takes one to know one?’”
Markham spit a fleck of tobacco. At the time, child labor laws varied from state to state, but there was no federal law in place, at least none that he knew of, regarding the movement of children across state lines. But still, he thought, taking on this kid, or whatever he was, it could be risky, even with his parents around. “Delia? You his mother?”
Delia said, “I’m more like his guardian. His mother died of The Dip.”
Alex said, “She’s in Heaven with Grandma.”
“Oh,” Bitty Betty said, “don’t he have the cutest little voice? Don’t you, sweetheart?” She smiled so broadly her makeup crinkled.
“Put a zipper on it, Betty. I knew I should have left you in the wagon.”
“Aw, Bobby, don’t be like that.”
“Enough,” Markham said. “A six-year-old boy this tiny, something ain’t kosher here, but I’ll be damned if I know what it is. Anyway, let’s get the show on the road. The knives and the darts await.”
Delia said, “Hold on. I gotta ask you, before he shows you his stuff, what kind of money are we talking about here, Mr. Markham?”
Without looking at Delia, he said, “Geez, Bobby, but don’t she got the brass? Listen, lady, I don’t make an offer until I see the goods first.”
“Oh, we have the goods, don’t you worry about that. But I can understand your point, Mr. Markham. Lou, isn’t it? Heck, I might be a non-believer myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. So how about this: If Alex can do what I say he can do, which is hit the bull’s-eye with the darts and the knife three times in a row, I get a hundred bucks a week, plus expenses.”
“You want to make more money than I do?”
“I don’t mind.”