Kiss an Angel(19)

To her relief, the subject of spanking didn’t come up again, although, in a perverse way, she was almost sorry. If he’d physically threatened her, she could have been free of her sacred vows and at peace with her conscience.

The morning was sunny, the warm air coming in through the half-opened window not yet oppressive. She saw no reason for him to waste a perfectly lovely morning sulking, so she finally broke the silence. “Where are we going?”

“We have a date up near Greenwood.”

“I guess it’s too much to hope you mean the dinner and dancing kind of date.”

“Afraid not.”

“How long will we be there?”

“Just one night.”

“I hope we won’t have to get up this early tomorrow morning.”

“Earlier. We have a longer jump.”

“Don’t tell me.”

“That’s the way circuses like this operate.”

“Are you saying we do this every morning?”

“There are some places we’ll be staying for two days, but not many.”

“How long does this last?”

“The circus is booked into October.”

“That’s six months from now!” She envisioned an endless future of crooked eyeliner. Six months. The exact time span of their marriage.

“What are you worried about?” he replied. “You don’t seriously believe you’re going to stick it out that long, do you?”

“Don’t you think I can?”

“It’ll be a long six months,” he said with far too much relish. “We’ll be covering lots of miles. We have dates as far north as Jersey, as far west as Indiana.”

In a truck without air-conditioning.

“This is the last season for Quest Brothers,” he said, “so we’re well booked.”

“What do you mean, the last season?”

“The owner died in January.”

“Owen Quest? The name on the side of the trucks?”

“Yes. His wife Bathsheba inherited the circus, and she’s put it up for sale.”

Was it her imagination, or had his mouth tightened almost imperceptibly? “Have you been with the circus for a long time?” she asked, determined to know more about him.

“Off and on.”

“Were your parents circus people?”

“Which ones? My Cossack parents or the ones who abandoned me in Siberia?” He tilted his head, and she saw a gleam in his eyes.

“You weren’t raised by Cossacks!”

“You must not have been listening very well last night.”

“That was nothing but P. T. Barnum showmanship. I know somebody had to have taught you how to ride and use a whip, but I hardly think it was Cossacks.” She paused. “Was it?”

He chuckled. “You’re something else, angel face.”

She wasn’t going to let him derail her. “How long have you been with the circus?”

“I traveled with Quest Brothers when I was in my late teens and early twenties. Since then I’ve gone out for a few weeks here and there.”

“What were you doing the rest of the time?”

“You know the answer to that question. I was serving time in prison for murdering that waitress.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, letting him know she had his number. “Are you saying you’re not a full-time circus manager?”

“Nope.”

Maybe if she backed off for a bit, she’d get more personal information out of him. “Who were the Quest Brothers, anyway?”

“There was just Owen Quest. Because of the Ringling tradition, circus people think it sounds better to say a show is owned by brothers, even if it isn’t. Owen owned this circus for twenty-five years, and just before he died, he asked me to take it out for its final season under his name.”

“That must be a sacrifice for you.” She regarded him expectantly, and when he didn’t respond, she prodded him a bit more. “Leaving behind your regular life . . . your regular job . . .”

“Mmm.” Ignoring her probing, he pointed to a power pole off the side of the highway. “Keep your eyes open for more of those arrows, will you?”

She noticed three red cardboard arrows, each of them imprinted with the blue letter Q, tacked to the pole and pointing off to the left. “What are they for?”

“They lead us to our next lot.” He slowed as he approached an intersection and turned left. “Dobs Murray—he’s our twenty-four-hour man—goes out the night before and puts them up. It’s called ‘arrowing the route.’ “

She yawned. “I can’t wait till we get there. As soon as we get in, I’m going to take a long nap.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to do your sleeping at night. The circus doesn’t carry any excess baggage, and everybody works, even the kids. You have jobs to do.”

“You’re expecting me to work?”

“Afraid you’ll break a nail?”

“I’m not nearly as spoiled as you think.”

He gave her a look that said he didn’t believe it, but since she was trying to avoid another argument, she ignored his baiting. “I simply meant that I don’t know anything about the circus.”