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“Wait until I tell my father,” she called after me, but I stormed on.
Up in my room I stewed. What control did I have over my life? None. I didn’t have a career, and if I didn’t watch out, I would find myself married to Phoebe, the son-in-law of a brutal man. All they thought me good for around here was being an errand boy and a nursemaid. It was time to take charge. I would join the circus and make a career of my own. I grabbed a battered suitcase from beneath my bed, and as I packed my good suit, my new knives, and assorted necessaries, I made my plans.
I would have a long walk ahead of me. If I left around mid-night, when everyone was safe in their quarters, I should be at the circus grounds by dawn. I consulted the almanac in my father’s study. Most of the way would be dirt roads far from any streetlights, but the moon was full and not due to set until the early hours, so I should be able to make my way.
I forced myself to eat dinner—I would need my strength—but I didn’t join the conversation. From the corner of my eye I saw Phoebe staring, and my food tasted like sawdust. I turned away, but my neck prickled and I could imagine the heavy hand of Mr. P. landing on my shoulder, and his loud demands.
“Are you well, Abel?” my mother asked.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled. I tried not to think of the tears she would shed on the morrow.
I fled the dining room as soon as I was able.
I worked through the show like a mechanical man, fetching and carrying and shifting scenery as always. When Phoebe passed me in the wings, she paused as if to speak, but I hurried away. I am a rotten scoundrel, I told myself, but that didn’t influence me to go back and find her.
I went to my chamber early and stared at my packed suitcase, my mouth dry. I half expected to talk myself out of leaving before the time came, but exhilaration overcame doubt, and I penned a brief letter to my folks.
Dearest Mama and Papa,
I have gone to seek my fortune, since it is not to be found here. Do not try to find me, or worry about me. I will return rich. Never doubt my esteem and love for you.
Your son,
Abel
At midnight I left my room, suitcase in hand, and crept down the corridor. When would I see these walls again? I wondered. This filled me with a sweet mélange of nostalgia and excitement. I walked carefully so as not to creak a floorboard. If someone stopped me now that I had committed myself to leaving, my heart would surely break and these walls become a prison. When I reached the back stairs, I thought I heard a floorboard groan behind me. I swiftly took the turn and hurried downstairs, throwing caution to the wind, my heart thumping. At the bottom I paused and listened, my breath ragged, but I heard no more sounds. No one followed.
The kitchen door was ajar. The large, brick-walled room was lit dimly by the remains of a fire in the old cooking hearth. Perhaps I should raid the larder for some bread and cheese for my breakfast. As I made my way carefully past the big oak table, a hand gripped my arm, and my innards leaped into my throat.
“Since you are going, I shall tell you your fortune,” peeped Gladys Dibble, the Pixie Queen.
I gaped at her. “How did you know?”
“You’re carrying a suitcase, my darling.” She stood nimbly on her stool and stepped onto the table in front of me, beside her cup and saucer. She held out her minuscule hands, and automatically I gave her my left hand to study. “You will go on a long journey,” Miss Dibble began in her gossamer voice.
“As you said, I am carrying a suitcase,” I answered; now I was able to be angry at my scare.
Miss Dibble silenced me with a withering glance. I have never known a woman who could command that much authority despite her size.
“You will face great danger,” she said. I hadn’t expected that.
“I see …” Miss Dibble paused and frowned. “A skeleton,” she finally said.
A skeleton? I scoffed silently. Was this some child’s Halloween skit?
“You will fail where you set your sights and succeed where you least expect,” continued Miss Dibble. Her fingers skimmed my ring. “And when all seems lost, you will fall in love with an older foreign lady.” She shook her head, as if this last seemed unlikely even to her.
It was nonsense from a midget lady with insomnia, I thought. But my lips gently curled at the thought of this older foreign lady—there was an adventure I would like to have.
Miss Dibble removed a chain from her neck. “I suggest you wear that ring on this,” she said. “You don’t want to call the attention of thieves.” She pooled the chain into my still-outstretched palm and then took both my hands in hers. Her grip tightened on me like little mouse paws.
“When you set off to find your fortune,” she said intently, unnerving me with a fierce and disturbing fire in her eyes, “be sure to be kind to ugly strangers, for there may be a princess among them.”
I thanked her politely, stuffed the chain in my pocket, and left as fast as I could, without the bread and cheese.
I walked all night, down dusty country roads, under a fat, abetting moon. Near morning, or so I judged, when the moon sank low over the horizon, I saw the shadows of large tents in a field. This must be the circus.
I would have to wait until a decent hour before I found the manager and asked for a job. So I climbed over a pale wooden fence and—before I stumbled too far and broke my leg in a rabbit hole—I found myself a comfortable seat next to a bush. It wasn’t long before my head began to nod.
