The Museum of Extraordinary Things(72)

Coralie came toward him, eyes shining. They greeted each other, then, after their introduction, they shifted into the rear of the yard without thinking, both wishing for privacy. The pear tree’s bark smelled sharp and fragrant. The tendrils of the green peas grew beyond the pickets of the fence in wild profusion.

“I saw you and your dog in the woods once, near the river,” Coralie confided, ignoring her shy heart. “I never thought it was possible that we would meet here in Brooklyn.”

The light was fading in the section of the yard where they’d paused, near enough to the trash pile for the ground to be ashy.

“I imagined you,” Eddie responded. “Or it might be that I saw you as well.” Coralie’s eyes were bright; a flush of color was rising on her throat. She hoped he might say The world is waiting for us, all we have to do is run away, but instead he murmured, “I’m here for the drowned girl.”

She came to her senses then. So this was his mission. Another girl entirely.

“You can be truthful with me,” Eddie went on. “To be honest, I know that she’s here.”

“And how is that?” Coralie wondered what the drowned girl meant to him. “Are you a mind reader of some sort?”

“Not exactly.” Although he had always prided himself on evaluating people’s thoughts and desires, this young woman seemed beyond his reach. He dropped his voice. “We share a liveryman it seems. The one who prefers birds to human beings.”

When Eddie spoke so intimately, Coralie’s attraction sliced through her. Still she remembered Maureen’s words of caution. “Is it your wife you’re looking for?”

“I’m hired to find her by her father, who longs to have her back, no matter her condition. I assume the body was taken for some vile purpose?”

Coralie lowered her eyes. “So vile you could not begin to comprehend.”

“I might. I’ve worked with criminals for the newspapers. I think I would understand.”

She yearned to tell him, but because of where such intimacies might lead, she felt a rising fear. She had entered a country she’d never visited before, though she stood in the ashy earth of the yard she’d known all of her life.

Up on the porch, William Reeves was sitting back in his chair so that he might recite a list of the massive amounts of food his alligator needed each morning: two chickens, three bunches of lettuce, a large haddock, bones and all. That, he announced, was just for breakfast. He intended to inform Professor Sardie that a larger salary was to be expected if he was to join their troupe for the season, for though he’d inked his name on the roster, he’d yet to sign a contract. The very idea of asking for more incited the museum’s employees, and a lively discussion began concerning the possibility of a fair wage, something no one had dared to imagine before. Eddie and Coralie paid no attention to this debate. They didn’t hear the clatter as plates and cups were carried off, marking the end of tea, nor did they recognize the passing of time.

“It’s dangerous to look into things you don’t understand,” Coralie advised. “You haven’t seen the half of what there is in this world.”

“Perhaps you’re one of the extraordinary things I don’t understand. I’ve heard you’re something of a mermaid.”

“Have you?” The very word sent a shiver down Coralie’s spine. It called up images of nighttime performances, mortifying scenes of flesh and wanton desire. “Whoever told you that knows nothing.”

Eddie felt a chill directed toward him. “I don’t mean to offend you. There’s a hermit camped out in the woods who’s spied upon us both. He said you’re a grand swimmer, and that you did your best to rescue Hannah. That’s her name. Hannah Weiss.”

Coralie now understood why the body she’d left sprawled in the weeds had been discovered with her hands folded on her chest, her head placed carefully upon a grassy pillow.

“Can you take me to her?” Eddie asked.

“She’s locked away, and my father is present so I cannot. But even if I could, she’s no longer among the living. Should we not simply forget her?”

“Can you forget what’s lost?” Eddie furrowed his brow, a sort of outrage passing across his features. “If it’s such a simple thing to do, you must teach me, for my mother died when I was a child, yet I mourn her still.” His words clearly touched Coralie, so he went on. “Should I go back to Manhattan and tell an old man to forget his daughter? Not to dig a grave or have blessings recited for her soul?” Eddie’s glance held hers, and he dared to speak his innermost thoughts. “And should I forget you when I leave here on this day?”

“You should,” Coralie insisted, for they had gone too far in words, and words, Maureen had always warned her, were soon enough followed by deeds. “Absolutely.”

“Should is what you don’t want to do, but do anyway. That isn’t me.”

A smile played at Coralie’s lips. “No. I’m sure it isn’t.”

“Nor is it you, I’d wager.”

Coralie shaded her eyes and gazed up into his. They were a deep brown, flecked with gold and black.

“I can get you her belongings.” She did her best to keep her voice even. “Would that help?”

Maureen had come outside to wave at them, gesturing in no uncertain terms for Coralie to send the tall young man away. Coralie had been so caught up in their conversation she’d failed to notice the living wonders had already gone inside one by one to greet her father and sign their binding contracts for the season to come. The porch had emptied, with only Reeves and the alligator remaining.