The Museum of Extraordinary Things(68)
“The Professor concocts his own opium in his workshop,” the liveryman informed Eddie. “He takes the raw stuff that looks like amber flakes and mixes it into a paste with those chemicals of his. He’s a wizard, I’ll grant him that. He vowed I’d never go without as long as I keep my mouth shut.”
“But you’re talking now,” Eddie reminded him.
“So I am. I’ve had enough of being lorded over by the likes of some so-called scientist who has me dragging around the dead. I may take his money, but he hasn’t got my loyalty. You keep me out of it, and I’ll talk all right.”
“You’ll do more than that. You’ll take me there.”
Eddie then brought out the dime-store photograph of Hannah. After a single glance, the liveryman looked away, pained. Even a man such as he had a soul, one he worried over more as each year went by.
“That’s her,” he admitted. “God forgive me.”
To Eddie’s great shock, the carriage man then began the initial phrases of the Kaddish, the mourning prayer of the Jews. Yit’gadal v’yit kadash sh’mei raba. May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified. B’al’ma di v’ra khir’utei. In the world that He created as He willed. V’yam’likh mal’khutei b’chayeikhon uv’yomeikhon. May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days. Uv’chayei d’khol beit yis’ra’eil. And in the lifetimes of the entire family of Israel.
The prayer was so ingrained, Eddie found himself murmuring the words in unison, though the liveryman seemed less a Jew than a heathen, a criminal with no allegiance, however he might call upon God.
“There you have it,” the carriage man told his confused companion when the prayer had been completed. “I’m one of your brethren.”
“I’ve left my faith,” Eddie was quick to inform him. “So we can hardly be brothers in any way, shape, or form.”
“You think so? I did the same as you, covered up who I was. We’re not so different. It was easier for a man like me to make my way without carrying the weight of our people. I suspect the same held true for you. I became whatever and whoever suited the times. I changed my name when need be, and who says that’s a crime? I’ve been Bill and Jack, and half a dozen other people. Joe Marvin, Joe Morris, William Murray—there’s an entire list of who I’ve been, and none of them have been too pleasing. But where do I go when there’s no one else to turn to? Adonai, our God.”
“If you think I’ll let you off easy because of this, you’re wrong. You’ll take me to her.”
The carriage man shook his head sadly. “You’ll likely regret it. I say this in all respect and as a brother.”
“Likely I will,” Eddie agreed. “But I’ll be in Brooklyn when I do.”
A frayed red cushion covered the seat of the carriage, to ease the pounding a person’s rear end took as the wooden wheels hit against the ruts in the roads. Eddie noticed the liveryman didn’t use a whip on the horse, yet the gelding trotted easily, as if he knew his master’s intended destination.
“You’re good with animals,” Eddie granted.
“I don’t need you to tell me so. I owned a pet shop on Broome Street when I was young. I was bird crazy. Still am. Honest creatures, aren’t they? Wild little things.”
The weather was warm and the sky had opened into a clear cerulean blue. The liveryman stopped the carriage on the flatlands, where there were still farms. Rows of cauliflower and beets grew for nearly a mile. The road was dusty, and it seemed no one was around. Eddie’s hackles were immediately raised as he speculated that some foul play was under way. It was possible that his companion would try to do him in on this empty stretch of highway; it might be that one of the liveryman’s old cohorts was nearby, ready with a club or a gun. Then Eddie realized their journey had been halted because they’d come to a well. The carriage man had already leapt down to retrieve a bucket from beneath the rear seat, which he filled so that his horse might drink. Eddie jumped down as well, in order to stretch his long legs.
“What do you want me to call you?” he asked, feeling more good-natured in this rural landscape. The air itself was intoxicating. “You said you’ve been known as Joe?”
“Go right ahead. I’ll answer to anything.”
By habit Eddie had grabbed his camera before leaving the stable, and he was now moved to capture the scene before him. The carriage man, called Joe for lack of anything better, held the water bucket so that the gelding could drink. His free arm was draped tenderly over the horse’s neck.
“All my other portraits were taken at the police precinct,” the fellow Joe said with a grin, showing off his gold-capped smile. “Make sure my beautiful teeth show.”
“Don’t think so highly of yourself. It’s the horse’s portrait I’m interested in.”
“I told you we were alike,” the liveryman insisted. When he finished his chore, he climbed back into the seat and lifted the reins. “We both trust beasts more than we do men.”
“If you mean would I rather stare at the horse’s ass than look at you,” Eddie remarked as he took his place beside his companion, “I can’t disagree.”
They both had a chuckle over that remark. Their defenses were down due to the utter beauty of the day. Terns wheeled across the sky and swirls of bees rumbled through clumps of tall grass.