The
Whole Damsel Thing
A Cody and Joanna fic
by Staci “Cody”
Faulkenberry and Michelle “Gidget” Beaubien
Notes/disclaimers:
Joanna, Cody, and a few others belong to the authors.
TaleSpin and its licensed characters (cameos) are the property of Walt
Disney Studios.
(rated PG-13 for occasional language, violence, and mature subject
matter)
This story takes place in 1936, about one year before the events in TaleSpin and
two years before the events in A Fair to Remember.
Cody is 21 and Joanna is 25. It’s
advisable, however, that you read AFTR first to enhance your enjoyment of this
fic. There are some in-jokes for the
sharp-eyed reader.
Dedicated to our pal Lizzy, who liked the idea of a Cody and Joanna
adventure. And Beth, who proofread
and tried to save us from ourselves. Thanks,
guys!
Prologue
Haley’s Carnival
May 1936
At first glance, the carnival seemed like a ghost town.
A light breeze sent papers skittering across the scuffed grass and dirt walkways
between deserted booths and billowed the tops of the tents like parachutes.
Freddy Koogar sat in his boss’s kitchen, which also served as a makeshift office, poring over the ledgers. Though he was a short, wiry cougar with plain, non-descript features, his average looks served him well --- by the time he was gone, no one could describe him well enough to set the cops on his trail. He remembered one time he stood in line at the post office to buy stamps and coming face-to-face with a barely recognizable version of himself. He knew because he recalled the alias written under the sketch --- The Man With No Name. His wanted posters were laughably bad. It was funny. He’d never noticed a wicked scar over his left eye or the fact that he was missing a front tooth.
They should fire the artist.
Or get better witnesses.
Getting hired was almost too easy.
Having hung around the grounds as a paying customer at their last stop in
Plantersville, he’d waited until suppertime and eavesdropped outside the
carnies’ dining tent. During
dessert, the owner, a stout little koala he later learned was Helen Haley, was
commiserating with a small group of carnies about some poor slob called Tommy.
Listening carefully, he soon learned that a position was open.
He peeked through a flap of canvas and watched.
“Poor man,” Helen had sighed.
He noticed that she had a rather charming Oztralian accent.
“One day he was up on his box, shoutin’, ‘Come one, come all!’
and then he keeled over, dead as a ‘ammer.”
“Bad ticker,” a short, grizzled beaver said, shaking his head sadly. “I’d always warned him against all that greasy carnival food.” He took a lusty bite of his hot dog.
Next to him, a pretty, dark gold bear wearing a high-necked blouse that was just tight enough to be interesting, remarked, “Yeah, all those hot dogs couldn’t have helped. And he drank like a fish, too.”
Not the kind of girl you take home to Mama.
“Now, now, Joanna.
It ain’t nice to speak ill of the dead,” the koala
chided her. “'specially since
he ain't here to defend ‘imself.”
Joanna looked confused. “Well, that is
sort of the point, isn't it?”
Across from her, a homely albino bear rested his bony
elbows on the table, dreamily gazing at her, his pink eyes magnified alarmingly
behind thick spectacles. He was a thin albino bear with a
blotchy completion that showed under his sickly yellow-white coat and an
overbite so pronounced that he could never completely close his mouth.
Homely, but harmless. At
twenty-six, he was a year older than she but was so sheltered by his protective
mother that there was something of the adolescent about him --- from his gangly
frame to the blotchy patches in his fur. He
was always nice to her, despite the fact that he sometimes stood a little too
close and tried too hard to make her feel welcome to their ragtag ‘family’.
Soft-spoken and timid by nature, he stammered when he tried to speak,
except when he performed onstage as the self-designated lead singer of the Haley
Carnival Band. Then his guitar
spoke for him.
At the gentle reprimand, he came to her defense. “Ma,
she didn’t mean it.”
Freddy recoiled and thought incredulously:
That thing is her son?
“No, I didn’t.” The woman reddened. “Sorry,
Helen. I didn’t know him that well, but he was okay.”
“Yeah! I think he was okay, too!” The homely albino
glanced at Joanna eagerly, as though expecting a medal.
Like you’d have a chance, Freddy
thought. Freak.
As though in agreement, a plain-featured lioness, who he
recognized as the pony trainer, snorted and rolled her eyes.
When nothing further was forthcoming, the albino added
sulkily, “He was always yelling, though.”
“Of course he yelled, Nicky.
After all, he was a barker,” Helen waved her spoon to punctuate
each word. “Tommy ‘ad his
faults, but he was always on time an’ never missed a day of work.
I don’t know ‘ow we’ll get another barker ‘alf as good.”
“That’s true,” Handy, the old beaver said.
“He was a bit hard of hearing too.
Maybe that’s why.”
The bear, Joanna said suddenly, “It’s been a whole
week. When are you going to hire another one?”
Everyone, especially Handy, looked shocked at this
rather insensitive question, but Helen reached across the table, patted her hand
and said gently, “Ye can’t rush these things, luv.
We need someone who’s free to travel with us, with no family ties.
A nice young man with a good boomin’ pair o’ lungs.
Tommy sure ‘ad that in spades!”
Freddy grinned. No
problem there. He had deserted
Polly and the kids years ago.
“A toast,” Handy raised his paper cup.
“Here’s to Tommy.”
“To Tommy,” the others chorused, raising their cups.
Except for Joanna, who did not bother to join the toast, but knocked back her
drink in one gulp and wiped her mouth.
She reached for the last slice of cherry pie.
“Anyone going to eat this?”
Handy glared at her, apparently miffed that she hadn’t
joined the toast. “Have some
respect.”
She started to stick her tongue out at him; guiltily,
she glanced at Helen, who looked rather surprised.
She drew her hand back. “Sorry. Grief
makes me hungry.”
The albino bear came to her rescue.
“But Tommy was such a generous person.
I think—I think…” He swallowed.
“I think he’d want her to have it.”
He blushed furiously when she flashed him a grateful
smile. She carefully cut the slice
in half and gave him one piece.
“Here. Want to share?”
Freddy nearly laughed out loud at the look on the
freak’s face. It was like she’d
agreed to marry him, for Pete’s sake!
He waited a couple of days, then returned to the fair to
introduce himself to Helen as Freddy Benson.
In a firm, confident manner, he told her that he was a bachelor and
willing to travel.
“Do ye like young‘uns?”
“I love them!” Shyly, he added, “I’ve always wanted to be part of a family.”
“Ye’ll have to share a trailer with Handy, our
maintenance man.”
Damn! Someone
to watch his comings and goings. That’s all I need.
He managed not to show his dismay. “Sure.”
“Well, that’s fine. There are a few rules, Mister
Benson. No rough language while the
fair’s in operation. This is a
family business an’ I don’t want the kiddies pickin’ up bad habits and us
gettin’ in ‘ot water with angry mums and dads.”
“Golly, no! That would be awful.”
“When can ye start, Mister Benson?”
“Right away, ma’am.”
“That’s good enough for me,” she said,
enthusiastically pumping his hand up and down.
“I hope ye’ll stay with us a while."
“Thank you, ma’am! You won’t regret this!”
A thought crossed her mind and she frowned. “Er, pardon me askin’, but ye don’t have a ‘eart condition, do ye?”
End
of Prologue
* * *
Part 1 of 10
The carnival was closed on Sunday, ostensibly to allow the carnival workers to attend church if they wanted, but in reality it was because everyone needed to recover from the busy weekend rush of Friday nights and Saturday. After church, Helen generally puttered around the empty grounds until after lunch, then ran errands and did some sightseeing.
“Luv, won’t ye change yer mind and come out with us?
I ‘ear they offer tours around the wharf on a shrimp boat.”
“Sorry, no can do.” He heard the girl cough loudly.
“I’ve got the plague.”
“Oh dear, ye sound dreadful.
Would ye like me to stay with you, make ye some tea?”
“No! Um, no, thanks. I just need to sleep it off.”
Shortly after Helen left, however, Joanna’s head began to pound, beating a tattoo behind her eyes.
She began to regret sending Helen away and wished that
someone would take care of her after all.
Someone to bring her lots of coffee and comic books.
And crossword puzzles. We
need a nurse around here, she thought resentfully. And I need aspirin. Or
a mallet. Anything to stop the pain.
In the end, however, she settled for the aspirin. Helen must have some. Grumbling, she got out of bed, slipped on an old baby blue chenille robe that had definitely seen better days, and went out.
* * *
Freddy congratulated himself for getting this far. He had waited impatiently until they were gone, slinking around the midway and silently checking each employee’s name off a list he secretly kept. It had taken weeks to case the joint, observe their comings and goings --- their habits, as it were. It had been a piece of cake to ‘accidentally’ bump into the old broad, then neatly snatch her key from her dress pocket as he helped her regain her balance. Getting into the ledger where Helen kept all the carnival’s accounts was even simpler. The trusting old lady sure didn’t believe in much security. He thumbed through the battered pages, stopping here and there to examine a rise or fall in the profit margin. Unfortunately, it looked pretty evenly keeled; no sudden rushes of success or plummets into extreme debt.
“We could be making so much more money,”
Freddy muttered to himself. “I’ll get rid of the old bag and that creepy son
of hers --- kick them out into the street. No,
maybe I’ll keep him. The
rubes’ll pay big bucks to see a real live freak.
Put him in a cage during the day and then cover it with a cloth at night,
like one of them talkin’ parrots…”
Someone coughed, startling him.
He stood up quickly, knocking the chair over. “Hey!
What’s the idea?” Then he
saw the intruder and groaned. “Oh,
great. You.”
“Well, well, well.” Joanna stared down at the
barker, arms folded across her chest. “Making
a little withdrawal, are we?”
“Perfect. Just perfect. What are you doin’ here? You’re sick --- go back to bed!”
“Gee, I didn’t know you cared,” she said
sarcastically. “Never mind that.
I’ve been watching you, Freddy. You’ve been in here, sucking up to Helen
every chance you got. I didn’t
know exactly what, but I knew you were up to something.”
“Oh yeah? What
makes you think I’m up to something? Maybe
I just like the old girl.”
He watched with mild interest as she yawned and
stretched, gracefully arching her back to show off an impressive figure under
the threadbare robe. Not bad, if you
liked the type, which he didn’t. He
liked nice girls. He firmly
believed that guys who married for looks were just asking for trouble.
His wife Polly certainly wasn’t much in the looks department, but at
least she was faithful. With all the
traveling he did, it had been good to know that she wasn’t cheating on him.
Who’d have her? And he
prided himself on never running around on her either, even after he flew the
coop for good. She was lucky to have
him.
Joanna, he supposed, was pretty in a flashy, hard-edged sort of way. Not now, of course ---- being sick made her pale and haggard, and her long hair hung untidily in her face like dried straw. She looked at him in what she obviously thought to be a mysterious, seductive manner.
Then she coughed again, spoiling the effect.
“Come on, Freddy… give. I feel like hell, so I’m not about to stop
you. I just want some aspirin.”
“So get some and go to bed.
And it’s
Frederick.” He had to get rid of her.
“Okay, okay!” Somewhat
huffily, she crossed to one of the upper kitchen cupboards and began rifling
through the contents. Finding a
bottle of Mufferin, she took it out and tried to twist the lid off.
It would not budge. “Darn,
I hate these things. It’s like cement. You mind?”
“Aw, give it here.”
With a grunt, he got it open and handed it to her.
“There.”
“Thank you, Freddy.
My, but you’re strong.”
“Cut that out. I
don’t go for that malarkey. You
don’t have what it takes, anyway.”
“Well, I am sick.” She sniffed, offended,
then deliberately peered at the top of his head --- an
easy enough feat since she towered over him.
“What’s your excuse? Didn’t
Mama feed you? Nice bald spot, by the way.”
“Why, you little ---!
If you weren’t a dame, I’d knock your block off!”
Joanna almost laughed out loud.
Nearly ten years of faithful service to the Foundation tended to make a
girl jaded. But she was no longer
the angry, frightened child that they honed into a deadly weapon since
the tender age of thirteen. Helen
had changed all that, although she never knew it.
Now Joanna was a pianist for the carnival band, and safe, working with
people she knew wouldn’t stick an ice pick through her brain as she slept. She
didn’t have to prove her ferocity here --- especially to a balding little runt
who barely reached her chin.
“Take it easy, Freddy.
No need to be short-tempered.”
He bristled. “Was that a short joke?”
No, I can tell longer ones too, Joanna was tempted to retort. But as fond as she was of getting in the last word, she now realized that the wrong one could very easily send the little hothead over the edge. Or the right one. She tried a different tact.
Eyes widening innocently, she asked, “What do you
mean? I don’t see why you have to
get so mad. I was just
curious.”
Freddy stared at her suspiciously.
“Yeah, well, I don’t need your curiosity, so take your pills and
leave me alone.”
Joanna shrugged. “All
right,” she said reluctantly. “I
just wanted to know what your plan was so you wouldn’t interfere with my
plan.”
He snorted. “Your
plan? For what --- bamboozling some
rich sucker into marrying you?”
For a fleeting second, he thought he saw her eyes harden, like he'd hit a nerve. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the look was gone. He wondered if he'd imagined it.
“No… oh, never mind,” she said airily, “my plan’s probably better than yours, anyway.”
“Oh yeah? Well, someday I'm going to own everything
you see around you,” Freddy boasted. “This is one sweet set-up.
All it needs is a smart guy to run it.”
“Like you, I suppose?” Joanna carefully kept her
expression bland—neither encouraging nor sneering.
Freddy favored her with a sour look. “Listen, doll, I’ve got more business sense in my little finger than the old bat has in her whole body.”
“When you’re right, you’re right,” she agreed.
“I say we bleed the old lady dry.”
He looked at her in surprise. From what he had seen, she
and Helen seemed to be pretty close. Could it be that she had an eye on the
carnival, too?
Well, she won’t
put one over on me. This set-up’s mine!
He snorted. “Whadda ya mean, we?
I work alone.”
“Oh, come on! I’ll
earn my keep… if you know what I mean.”
She wanted to cut out her own tongue for that one, but she had to stall
him.
“Forget it, lady. I told you you ain’t my type.
Besides, you’re contagious.”
Gee… am I losing my touch? she wondered. Then
her tone turned chilly. “Fine.
I could have helped you, but I don’t want to anymore.
More dough for me, anyway.”
He squinted at her suspiciously. “What’d you mean by
that?”
She gave an elaborate shrug. “Oh, nothing.
I just happen to know where she keeps her loot, that’s all.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true.”
“You’re lying.”
“Fine. I
really don’t care if you believe me or not.”
She shrugged and turned to go. “Look, I don’t need this.
I’m going to bed. I’ll
say I slept through the whole thing. Good
luck. Be sure to lock up before you
go, okay?”
He scowled, hating the seed of doubt she’d planted in
his mind. Besides, what if she was
pretending to leave, only to sneak off and call the cops? “Wait --- why would
she tell some floozy that where her money is?
You’re pullin’ my leg. Even she can’t be that dumb.”
But there was almost uncertain note in his voice that
reassured her. He was interested,
all right. She just had to play this
one differently.
“Freddy, this is the woman who fixes her hair before
she goes to the beauty parlor. Besides,
watch the name-calling. If I were a floozy, I’d be all over you, wouldn’t I,
little man?” Joanna gave
him a long stare, letting the word little sink in.
He glowered up at her, but she suddenly smiled.
“Cheer up. You’re not my type either.”
She was almost enjoying herself. “Honestly,
Freddy --- I caught you red-handed. You’re
such a schnook --- you can’t even steal right.
I’d be tired of you in a week.”
“Oh yeah?” he said belligerently, puffing himself up
to look intimidating. Joanna
wasn’t impressed. He only
succeeded in reminding her of her little sister’s method of getting her way
--- she’d hold her breath until she turned blue.
Joanna had discouraged this practice by reaching out and pinching her
nostrils shut.
“Yeah, I could do way better,” she sneered.
“She didn’t tell me, genius. I
know a lot more than people give me credit for.”
“Yeah, right. And
I’m the King of Siam.”
“It’s true. But
go ahead and settle for chicken feed. I
really couldn’t care less.”
She turned slightly away from him, but noted with
satisfaction that he was intrigued.
Hooked, aren’t we?
Time to reel this little fishy in.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
She went ahead, not bothering to look to see if he was following her.
“I don’t got time for games.” Nervously, he
glanced at his pocket watch.
“Oh, relax. Helen
takes forever in stores. We’ll
be out of here long before she comes back.”
We, he thought, trying not to smirk. That’s
a laugh. What a pip.
She led him to Helen’s tiny bedroom, which was
separated from the rest of the area with a curtain.
Next to the cot was a large square iron night table, covered with a large
lace doily; it had no drawers, which he found strange.
On top was a small flowered lamp, sitting primly in the middle.
Next to it was a large, chunky alarm clock --- an incongruous sight to
say the least.
Who decorated this place, Ellen Keller?
She read his expression.
“Yeah, I know. Hideous,
isn’t it? But functional.”
“Huh?”
“Wait,” she replied, placing both hands on either
side of the night table and wrenching it around to face them.
The table was set on castors, and rolled easily. The dial had been facing
the wall, concealing it.
His mouth fell open in astonishment.
“It-it’s a safe!”
“Very good. I
like ‘em observant. Saves me
having to get out the puppets and flash cards.”
“Shut your pie hole and open it!”
“Gee, does your wife know how lucky she is?”
“How’d you---never mind.”
She gave him a nasty grin. “I didn’t. Shot in the dark. Now be vewwy, vewwy quiet. I’m cwacking safes.”
Joanna knelt, put her ear to the lock and slowly began
to turn the dial. She listened
carefully to the tumbler’s clicks, mentally noting each number of the
combination. After
three tries, the door finally opened.
“Thank you, no autographs, please.”
He was impressed in spite of himself. “Where’d you
learn to crack safes?”
“I have many skills,” she said loftily. “You think
I was always a carnie? These fingers can do more than just tickle the ivories,
y’know.”
“I told you I ain’t interested.”
“Neither am I, so quit twisting my words. You’re a
fan club with one member, pal. I
just want the cash so I can get out of this place.” She peered into the
darkness of the safe. “Hey… I
see something else in there. I think
it’s a jewelry box.”
He tried to nudge her aside. “Lemme see.”
“Hey, don’t be so pushy.
I’ll drag it out, okay?” She
reached in, got a fingerhold on the edges and dragged out a beautifully polished
jewelry box. “Oh, I remember what
she’s got in here --- she was married six or seven times and keeps all the
rings on a chain. Kind of like a
trophy.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“What was she supposed to do, wear them on her
fingers? She’d never be able to
lift her hands.”
“Never mind!” he said impatiently.
“Just let me see!”
Half-turned from him, she picked it up. “Okay.
Careful, though.”
“Why?”
“It’s heavy,” she
answered, and slammed the box into his forehead as hard as she could.
* * *
“Wakey, wakey, Sunny Jim,” he heard a low-pitched
female voice say. “That was quite
a whack you took on the noggin. You
should be more careful.”
“Yeah…” he mumbled, struggling to sit up.
The pain was so bad he could barely open his eyes. “Hurts like a sonuva…”
“Shhh… relax. Drink this.”
He felt the warm rim of a cup being pressed against his
mouth and tried to turn his face away. “Wha’ is it?”
“Just tea. The
water doesn’t taste that great here, so I added a spoonful of sugar.”
She helped him sit up and guided the glass to his lips.
He was too groggy to resist at the moment, so he let her
tip the warm liquid down his throat. “There,
take small sips, now… that’s it. That’s
a good boy.”
“Whoops, I forgot to ask.
You’re not diabetic, are you?”
He was startled enough to say incredulously, “Now you
ask me?”
“Well, how do you feel?”
“Whadda ya mean, how do I feel? Sheesh.”
“Has your headache stopped?”
“It hurts like hell, you dumb broad!”
“No need to swear at me.
My, you’re cranky. No
wonder your wife left you.”
“I left her!
Not the other way around! I
mean…” He trailed off, confused. “Never
mind --- nobody knows about her! Stop
twisting everything I say!”
She was silent for a few seconds, then asked, “Do you
want to lie down?”
“No, I have to get out of here!
The old lady’ll be home any min---!”
“You mean your wife?”
“Yes --- I mean no!
The other old lady!”
“You don’t feel anything?
Nothing at all?” She stared at him without blinking.
He frowned.
“Do you have foggy vision?
Are you dizzy?”
Freddy started to protest, then stopped.
Now that she mentioned it, the room was starting to swim and spin
before his eyes. He felt a flash of
panic.
“Sonuva---! What’d you do to me?”
“Do?” she echoed. “I didn’t ‘do’ anything. I added a little something to your tea, that’s all.”
“What’s in it? Tell
me, you rotten bitch, or so help me---!”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Tell me!” he screamed at her.
“You don’t have to yell,” she said, sounding
injured. “I didn’t make you drink it, you know --- you did that yourself.”
His eyes went wide as she triumphantly held up an empty
aspirin bottle. He sucked in his
breath, searching her expression for some sign --- any sign --- that she was
bluffing.
“You’re lying. Tell
me you’re lying.”
“Okay,” she said agreeably, “I’m lying.”
Then she winked at him.
“Y-you poisoned me?”
“Who are you to talk?” Joanna’s manner changed
from jovial to quietly menacing. “At least I don’t befriend trusting old
women so I can rob them blind.”
“Wh-what are you going to do?”
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do.
You’re going to write Helen a signed confession and then you’re going
to disappear.”
“You can’t prove anything!
You’re here too. I’ll say
you were in on it --- or that you poisoned me into making a false confession!”
Joanna sighed loudly.
“You shouldn’t tell lies, Freddy.
Lies hurt everyone. Nobody
wins.”
“But I need a doctor!
A stomach pump! Anything!”
“Not for long. Now…
where’s a pen and paper?” Joanna
scanned the counter, then noticed the ledger.
She flipped to a clean page and tore it out.
“Hey, what do you know? I found a pen too!”
“I-I ain’t signin’ nothin’!”
“That’s it. No
ambulance for you, young man.”
“Everything’s going dark!
I-I see spots!”
She thrust the paper at him. “Here.
Write the note before you pass out and I’ll see what I can do.”
Maybe.
“Please….” he begged.
“Say pretty please.”
“Pretty please! Come
on!”
“With a lump of sugar.
Say it.”
“Prettypleasewithalumpofsugaronit!”
“And a cherry,” she sang, enjoying her game.
“Cherry! I’ll
cherry you!” he roared, lunging at her.
He sat hard on her chest, knocking the wind out of her;
his hands were small, but he just managed to fit them around her neck so
that the tips touched. He pushed his
thumbs against her throat, making her gasp for air.
If she hadn’t been so weakened by her cold, she would
have ended the struggle sooner. Freddy
was obviously inexperienced in physical combat and it was only dumb luck on his
part that he had the upper hand. With both her nose and mouth completely
congested and his hands around her throat, she began to feel very lightheaded.
Black dots began to dance before her eyes.
A gentle male voice from her past brushed against her
mind as softly as a lover’s hands.
If we die, sweet Lila, it must be glorious.
Not some stupid accident, not some mundane disease and especially not by
the hand of one who isn’t part of the Foundation.
If some ordinary person strikes you down, you deserve it.
You were never worthy.
She thought wildly: No!
I can’t die like this --- it’s stupid! He’s nothing --- a loser!
I can’t get killed by some… runt!
She tried to pry his thumbs from her throat --- no good,
he was too strong, and his weight on her chest was surprisingly solid. Then her
nose tickled and she suddenly sneezed in his face.
“Ah-ah-AH-CHOO!”
It was enough. Lying
flat on her back and unable to swing her arm to deliver a good roundhouse punch,
Joanna balled her fist and jabbed, aiming for his nose but boxing his ear
instead, momentarily stunning him.
She mentally scolded herself for this blunder. Years
ago I’d have broken this loser’s neck.
As he lay there, she groped around for the nearest
weapon. Her hand closed around the
handle of the teapot and she gripped it firmly.
Swinging it in an arc, she brought it down hard on Freddy’s head.
In an explosion of warm liquid and soggy tealeaves, the teapot shattered
and he slumped to the floor.
* * *
He rubbed his head, then noticed that his scalp was
sticky and wet. Blood?
No, more like --- Orange Pekoe? Earl Grey?
Where am I? Who
did this to me?
Now panicked, he felt all sides of his prison --- he
seemed to be inside an iron box. Then he saw a thin, vertical sliver of light to
his left.
A door?
He reached for it, only to be blocked by a metal wall.
Touching a hard, round, upraised bump, he tried to turn it, but it
wouldn’t budge. He remembered that
he’d seen this odd knobby thing before…
It had to be the other side of the rotating knob that
Joanna had clicked until she was able to fling the door open.
He then realized what happened, then and his fear nearly
made him faint. She had poisoned him --- and he was entombed.
She locked me in the safe!
I’m going to die in here!
He screamed, his own voice muffled and bouncing off the
iron walls.
“You lousy tramp, lemme out! Let me out!
I’ll kill ya!”
“I wouldn’t scream if I were you,” she said
calmly. “You’ll use up all your oxygen.”
“I can’t breathe!”
“See what I mean?”
“Y-you can’t just leave me in here!”
She didn’t answer.
“Joanna? Answer
me!”
Still no answer.
Joanna waited for about a half-hour, listening to his
insane shrieks until he finally fell into exhausted silence.
It wouldn’t do to keep him there too long --- who knew how much oxygen
he’d have in such a tiny space? Then,
satisfied that he wasn’t going anywhere, went to a nearby payphone and dialed
‘0’. Helen did not have a phone
in her trailer, and it was too much trouble to find a place to hook one up at
every stop. The operator connected
her to the local police station.
When she heard the sirens a couple of blocks away, she
hurried back to the trailer to Helen’s bedroom and messed up her hair, pulling
out a handful and dropping it on the carpet; she slapped her own face hard,
noting with satisfaction that the fresh pink palm print was coming up nicely.
She looked around the room for a weapon, deciding not to underestimate
him this time.
For a runt, he sure is feisty.
On the floor was the discarded jewel box.
Then, very carefully, she opened the safe again and picked up the box,
ready to strike.
He had fainted. She could see the pulse in his throat throb, so he was alive. Tears glistened wetly on his cheeks. She almost laughed. It was amazing what being trapped in a safe would do to a person. Then she stopped smiling.
Her eyes narrowed. “If
you’re playing possum, little man, I’ll crush your skull.”
He didn’t react.
“Police! Open
up!”
“Coming!” she called.
Grabbing the unconscious cougar’s ankles, she dragged
him to the kitchen and laid him among the shards of the teapot.
Then, she kept her eyes open until they stung and became watery, and
raced to the door. Flinging it open,
she allowed tears to stream down her face as three policemen pushed past her.
“Are you okay, miss?” a fourth one asked.
“That horrible man!” she sobbed.
“He tried to strangle me!”
* * *
“All right, buddy.
Come on.” One of the cops
grabbed his arm and jerked him into a sitting position.
“She’s poisoned me, I tell ya!
Get me a stomach pump!” The
cougar moaned. “I’m dying
here!”
The older cop, an elephant, was unsympathetic. “Well,
that would save us a load of paperwork…”
“You don’t believe me!”
“He ain’t poisoned.
He’s probably one of those hypo-things.”
“Hypochondriac?”
“No, I mean people who always think they’re sick and
keep seeing doctors when they’re perfectly fine.”
“Oh, right! One
of those.”
“Don’t worry, bub.
You’ll live to a ripe old age in the clink.”
One of the younger cops got a closer look at him.
“Well! As I live and
breathe, if it isn’t the Man With No Name, aka Freddy Fingers, aka Freddy
Koogar!”
“Who?” Joanna
and Helen both asked at once.
“Ol’ Freddy’s one of the slipperiest confidence
men in these parts, wanted for chicanery and fraud.
His sheet could paper a whole wall. We’ve been looking for this mug for
months.”
The younger cop said to Joanna, “We’ll have to take
a statement, miss.”
Uh-oh. I
have to get rid of these guys. She
sniffled loudly, making sure she stood a little too close to him. “What do you
want to know?”
He took an involuntary step back. “What happened?
Exactly.”
She sneezed loudly. He cringed and wrinkled his nose in
disgust as she barely managed to turn her head away from him.
“Sorry, I’m sick. I bas
just resting while everyone else was out. I
got this bonster of a headache and went to Helen’s trailer to get some
aspirin…”
“Helen?” the cop asked.
“That’s me,” the koala told him, then addressed
Joanna. “Do ye need a ‘anky,
sweetheart?” She checked her skirt
pocket. “Oh dear.
I don’t seem to ’ave one on me person…”
Joanna pretended to be about to sneeze again.
“Ah-ah-ah…”
“Here! Use
mine!” the cop said quickly, whipping one out of his own breast pocket and
shoving it at her.
She blew her nose lustily, then offered the sodden cloth
back to him with a wet, grateful smile. “Danks.”
“Keep it! Just
give me the statement and you can go back to bed!”
“… I let byself in and heard this doise.
I was pretty jumpy by den, but I had to see what it was.
Dere he was in her bedroom, cracking the safe open.”
If Freddy could have heard her, he would have protested
loudly that he didn’t know how to crack a safe.
Unfortunately for him, Joanna was able to give him the credit. Freddy was
too busy concentrating on not dying to pay much attention. Why were these stupid
cops standing there, listening to her when he was dying?
He struggled against the handcuffs.
“I tried to sneak away and call the police --- dat’s
you guys --- but he heard me and just… just… came after me!”
She began to tremble. “I
was so scared! If I hadn’t been
able to reach that teapot…”
“… looks like you chosen the wrong people to
swindle.”
“What!” Strummer’s eyes bulged with rage. “You
tried to rob us and hurt my—er—Joanna?”
“Yer a very bad man,” Helen rounded on
Freddy. “Ye bloody viper!
To think I trusted you!”
He sneered, “Yeah, yeah, cry me a river, lady.
Let me give you a little advice…” He winced as his headache turned
from excruciating pain to a dull throb. He’d
have the last word if it was the last thing he would do. “…don’t turn your
back on that girl for a second.”
“She’s worth a hundred of you!” the koala snapped.
“Take this rotter outta me sight, constables. I can’t bear to look at ‘im!”
Joanna smiled smugly. A hundred, huh?
She watched them drag him away to the paddy wagon, then
throw him in the back. He was still
protesting—loudly—and begging for a stomach pump. She wondered with dark
amusement how long it would take before he realized that he wasn’t
poisoned.
“Hey!” she shouted after them, forgetting to sound congested. “There’s a reward, right?”
One of the cops,
an older rhinoceros, turned and gave her a disgusted look.
After they’d secured the doors behind Freddy—who was still yelling
about a stomach pump—he walked over to her and said, “Young lady, I think
you’d better count your lucky stars that we don’t haul you to the station
too. You may not have poisoned him,
but I’ll bet a dollar to donuts you did something.”
“Of course
I did! What was I supposed to do,
let him choke me?” she said indignantly. “So I hit him with the teapot.
That’s self-defense.”
“It better
be.” He stared her down, unfazed
by her outburst. “And by the way, you sound much better.”
When he turned
to leave, obviously considering her properly chastened, Joanna stuck her tongue
out at his back.
They drove away, leaving her coughing and disgruntled.
Helen draped one
of her blankets over Joanna’s shoulders and hugged her. “I thought—I
thought he was goin’ to kill ye!”
“Me too.”
She sniffed loudly.
Helen shook her head, bewildered. “Why was he carryin’
on so?”
Joanna shrugged. “No
idea.”
“To think that awful man was nothin’ but a barefaced
liar and a thief! I thought
he ‘ad the nicest manners too!” Helen
set her jaw. “Well, that certainly won’t ‘appen again!”
“Some people are just plain mean.” Joanna shook her head sadly. “Crazy world, isn’t it?”
“I’ll say!” Helen glanced at her and suddenly
softened. “Luv, go back to bed
this minute. I’ll came back an’
look in on you.”
“Thanks.”
When she left, Joanna and Strummer were alone outside
Helen’s trailer.
Timidly, Strummer touched her shoulder.
“Are-are you all right, M-miss Joanna?”
“For heaven’s sake, just call me Joanna,” she said
irritably, shrugging off his hand. “It’s been three years.”
“Of course, Miss…er, Joanna. I’m sorry.”
She glanced at Helen, who was looking back at them
curiously. Probably thinking she was
acting awfully feisty for someone supposedly at death’s door.
She had to admit, despite the fact she was starting to feel new bruises
where Freddy had grabbed her shoulders, a small, long-dormant part of her brain
was laughing insanely, exhilarated by her victory.
Too bad she couldn’t share it with someone.
No, she had to pretend to be a weak little girl, cowed by her near-brush
with death.
How humiliating.
“No, I’m sorry.” She paused, half-heartedly
trying to remember his name. Nelson? Neil? Nicholas?
Nicholai? “It’s not your
fault, um... Ned.”
“Nicholas,” he corrected her, then he added quickly:
“But you can call me Ned if you want to! Maybe
I should change my name, huh?”
She blinked at him, momentarily nonplussed by this
change of subject. “Huh?”
He misinterpreted the blink, as he did most small
changes of expression and gestures. She
fluttered her eyelashes ---at me! He
puffed out his bony chest with masculine pride.
“Oh…” She always found it hard to look at him, so he was always assigned a peripheral role in her consciousness. It was easier to pretend he didn’t exist. To her, he was just Helen’s son, part of the scenery.
She felt the faint stirrings of half-forgotten excitement from her encounter with Freddy. Long ago, she had given up a life of intrigue and violence. She did not miss wondering when her number would be up, but she did miss the rush of adrenaline that followed a fight to the death. It was a heady brew --- almost an aphrodisiac.
She glanced at Strummer --- and the feeling evaporated.
Back to business.
Trying not to grimace, she threw her arms around his
neck, burying her face in his bony shoulder, sobbing, “Nick!
I was so frightened! That
mean man tried to kidnap me!”
“That no-good rotter!
There, it’s all right, you couldn’t know what he was…” He patted
her back awkwardly, while she worked up some decent crocodile tears. “How dare
he! Did-did he… touch
you?”
No, he tried to kidnap me with his mind, she
thought irritably, then felt a small stab of shame.
The poor guy meant well.
“Just a few bruises, that’s all.
I’m more frightened than anything else.”
Suddenly, she felt a subtle shift in his comforting
pats, which grew firmer with each passing second.
She peeked over his shoulder and saw Handy watching them.
He looked grimly satisfied to see her predicament.
What the hell is he smiling about, she thought
resentfully. It’s like he wants me to act like a stupid damsel in
distress! Then:
Oh boy, that’s it. Handy
did not approve of unladylike behavior and had barely concealed his dislike for
her since shortly after Helen hired her as a pianist of the Haley Carnival Band.
Jeez, put a purse snatcher in intensive care and they
never let you forget it. Helen
had nearly fired her for that little stunt, even though it had been her
purse that was stolen. They were
lucky that the young man lived, but they’d had to pull up stakes early and
move onto the next town.
“Okay, show’s over,” she said, detaching herself
from his arms. Then she added, not meaning a word of it:
“Thanks, I owe you.”
There was a strange catch in his voice, but she was too
distracted to notice. “Wait---you’ve been through a horrible
experience---where are you going?”
Ignoring him, she abruptly turned away and headed for
her trailer. She wanted to lie down
and savor the triumphant thrumming in her blood after cheating death ---
one of the few memories of her old life that she actually enjoyed.
There was no feeling like it, except maybe an invigorating fierce
encounter of the flesh --- and not often enough to satisfy her greedy
appetite for long. Knowing that
Helen disapproved of conjugal relations outside of marriage, she often had to
sneak around like a guilty teenager to keep her private life, well, private.
Unknown to Helen or anyone else, she did occasionally meet men off the premises for dates. She suspected, rightly so, that her motherly boss would have insisted on meeting them herself, and Joanna simply didn’t have the heart to tell her that these liaisons meant nothing more than scratching an itch. There was no point in getting attached to anyone when the carnival was only in town for a few months. She liked fun-loving guys with no expectations --- and she usually found them.
Her co-workers were constantly underfoot and were
terrible gossips, except for Bonnie. Joanna
respected her for that, and believed that even if her roommate knew of her
activities, she wouldn’t tell anyone. It
was nobody’s business what she did on her own time, but still… she preferred
that Helen remained ignorant. Maybe
it was the annoying, yet somehow endearing way the older woman mothered her,
fussing over her when she was sick and inviting her to play gin rummy over rich
Oztralian tea. Joanna was a
coffee-drinker, but she was learning to like tea as well.
It was a small price to pay for a little attention.
Joanna left the door slightly ajar to let the horsy
smell dissipate and untied the curtains so that they hung loose across the
windows, then flopped onto her cot, making the springs squeak.
The dark was comforting to her --- cool and serene.
She closed her eyes and replayed the events in Helen’s kitchen in her
mind.
“Miss er, J-Joanna? Are you all right?”
Oh, crap.
“Fine!” she called back.
“Just taking a nap, Ned.”
“C-can I come in?”
“Nicholas, do leave her alone,” she heard
Helen scold him. “Ye know ye
ain’t allowed in the girls’ quarters.”
“But, Ma, I was just comfort---!”
“I know, Nicky, that’s very sweet. I’ll see if she
needs anythin’. You run along now
and let me take care of her.”
Great. Battle
stations! Hurriedly, she dove
under the covers, rubbed her eyes to make them look redder.
Helen knocked lightly and peered through the sliver of
open doorway. It was too dark to see
inside. “Can I come in?”
“It’s open.”
The koala waddled inside, approached and cot and handed
her a steaming mug. “I brought ye some broth, luv.
Best thing for a cold. Careful
now, it’s ‘ot.”
“Thanks.” She
accepted the cup, blew at the steam, and sipped.
The rich liquid flowed down her throat like a forbidden elixir.
“Mmm… chicken. My
favorite.”
“Well, it weren’t too hard followin’ the
directions on the packet,” Helen said modestly.
They both chuckled. Helen may
have looked like somebody’s sweet little old granny, but she wouldn’t be
caught dead making anything from scratch --- except maybe pancakes.
Joanna could appreciate that, not being the domestic type herself.
“How are ye doin’?”
Joanna tried to sound weak. “Better, thanks.
Still pretty woozy, though.”
“Well, I won’t keep ye long.
Can we talk?”
Great. Here it
comes. Joanna
coughed again, a little too long to be convincing.
“Okay.”
Helen planted her generous bulk at the end of the cot,
making it dip a few inches. “Now then --- what exactly happened with Freddy?
How was it ye found him in me trailer?”
Joanna took a long swallow of broth, buying time.
Whenever Helen was agitated, her Oztralian accent became stronger, more
colloquial --- a sure warning that she was in no mood for games.
Joanna told her about wanting aspirin, and accidentally
catching him red-handed with the ledgers, leaving out most of it.
Some things she didn’t just tell Helen, even if she was the closest
thing to a mother she ever had. “…and
then he just went nuts and tried to strangle me, Helen. Thank goodness you guys
came in when you did---!”
“What were ye doin’, confrontin’ Freddy
like that? Ye coulda been ‘urt!”
“I know.” She
stared at the bottom of the empty mug as though the answer was somewhere hidden
in its depths. “You know me. I couldn’t let it go.”
“Aye, I do know ye, Joanna,” Helen said.
“That’s why I fret about ye so. Yer
too proud for yer own good. Ye always think ye can take on the bad guys by
yerself --- and ye get in way over yer head.
One of these days ye’ll get yerself badly ‘urt --- or killed.
Why didn’t ye scream fer ’elp?”
Joanna set the mug down on the floor. “I thought I
could take him,” she said defensively. “Besides, what’s the point? No one
was around anyway.”
Helen slapped her forehead in exasperation. “Now what
kinda foolishness is that? A slip of a girl like you, thinkin’ ye can face a
mean bugger like that Freddy on yer own?”
Joanna said nothing.
As dear as she was to her, Helen would never understand that it was
unacceptable to be weak or to act in any way like a damsel in distress.
If there was one thing she had learned at the Foundation, you never, ever
fainted, screamed for help or begged for mercy.
You went down fighting and took the other guy with you.
She hunched her shoulders, trying to look humbly
chastised. “Okay, I was wrong.
Can I get some sleep now?”
The koala sighed, knowing that her words were falling on
deaf ears. She suddenly looked older
than her fifty years. Weather, time and Joanna had taken their toll.
She took the mug. “Aye, I
can see that yer gonna be a mule about this.
I’ll let ye get some rest.”
Joanna couldn’t let her walk away like this.
She suddenly didn’t want to be alone. “Um…Helen?” she said in a
small voice.
The koala turned. “Yes, dear?”
“C-could you stay with me for a while?
Just until I fall asleep?”
“Of course,” Helen smiled with amused affection.
Tough, sarcastic Joanna could be such a little girl sometimes.
“Scoot under the covers now. Here,
let me fluff yer pillow.”
“Thank you,” Joanna said sincerely. She snuggled
under the blankets and was pleasantly surprised when Helen even tucked her in.
“Talk to me…tell me one of your stories.”
“Oh, goodness, which one? I must’ve told you all of
‘em.”
“I like your stories.
Tell me about Oztralia. All
that neat stuff you did when you were a kid.
Tell me about the time you and your father stopped that stampede of
horses and…”
“Hush, now, luv. Who’s
tellin’ this, you or me?” Helen
sat on the edge of the bed and began, “Well…I was twelve an’ just learnin’
te work a drive…”
Eventually, the soothing lilt of Helen’s voice lulled her to sleep. The older woman soon fell silent. The springs of the cot creaked as she stood up, smoothing the back of her well-padded skirt. She started to leave, but noticed that several strands of reddish-gold hair lay across Joanna’s nose, making it twitch. Reaching down, she brushed it aside; then she bent and kissed her gently on the forehead. Joanna stirred, but did not awaken.
Helen left her, taking the mug with her.
“Night, luv,” was all she said.
“Be good.”
* * *
Freddy lay
on the floor in the back of the cop car, waiting for the end. As long moments
passed and nothing happened, however, he began to wonder.
Am I really dying?
I…I feel okay.
He sat up. The symptoms he’d felt so strongly in
Helen’s office were gone, and he felt a flood of rage course through him.
Freddy wasn’t the type who liked being duped—especially by a smart-mouthed
floozy. He had to get out of here. Shouldn’t be too hard.
The handcuffs were easy enough to get rid of.
He’d become something of an expert at getting out of them over the
years—when you spent as much time in lockup as he did, you learned a few
tricks. Tossing
the handcuffs aside, he looked at the
barred windows on the doors and no other means of entrance or exit. Well, he
could work with that. Once the cops lost sight of him, they’d likely forget
about him. It was a definite advantage to being ordinary-looking.
Sure made it easy to blend into crowds.
Then he sneezed.
* * *
She was going past Helen’s trailer when she heard the
sounds of someone cleaning up. Glancing
around, she poked her head in the door to see the koala sweeping broken pieces
of the teapot into a neat little pile.
“Hi,” Joanna said.
Helen glanced up. “How
are ye feelin’, luv?”
“Better. Want
some help?”
Helen smiled and nodded.
“That’s real nice of ye.”
Joanna stepped into the trailer and helped Helen clean
up the kitchen, which was still in shambles.
“What with you, then my Nicky under the weather, I
haven’t had time to tidy up.”
“Oh?” Joanna asked.
“What’s he got?”
“Nothing te worry about.
Just a small cold.”
“Oh,” she said again, not terribly interested.
The older woman swept up the shards of the teapot, while
Joanna righted an overturned chair and cleaned up trash that had spilled from an
overturned trashcan.
“What a
mess. I just can’t help but feel
partly responsible,” she apologized.
“Joanna, ye couldn’t very well protect yer virtue
without makin’ a mess.” Helen
sighed. “I do wish that teapot ‘adn’t
got broke, though.”
“I’m really sorry.”
Sorrier about the teapot than Freddy, actually.
“Never mind. You
did what ye had to, I guess.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t
mean I enjoyed it, though.”
Wish I had a camera.
“Aye, that’s true.
I --- what’s this?” Helen started to toss the shards into the
garbage, then she spotted something. She
looked at Joanna strangely.
“What?”
“It looks like someone dumped a whole lot of
pills in the dustbin. Aspirin,
perhaps?”
“Oh. Gee, how’d those get there?”
“Don’t lie, Joanna.
Not te me.”
“I’m sorry,” Joanna said meekly. “I had to stall
him for the police. It had to look
real.”
Helen smiled uncertainly.
“So, you really didn’t…”
“No! Of
course not!” Joanna was outraged. “What
kind of person do you think I am?”
“A very clever girl.
Sometimes too clever for ‘er own good.”
Her vanity tickled, she forgot about being outraged. “You really think I’m smart?”
“No, I said yer clever, which ain’t the same
thing at all."
"Oh."
Helen said severely,
"Risking yer life for a
few baubles ain’t smart.”
“I didn’t. I
went for aspirin and he surprised me. I
couldn’t leave.”
Helen looked at her.
“It’s true!”
“All right. I
believe ye.” Helen changed the
subject. “That was the fifth barker we’ve lost in six months. They sure
don’t last long around ‘ere.”
Joanna didn’t say anything.
“Not that it’s such a bad thing.
Except for Tommy --- bless him --- most of ‘em were layabouts anyway.
Not a patch on my Bill, bless ‘is soul --- he knew how to pull
in the crowds,” Helen continued, bending to sweep some broken glass onto a
dustpan. She bent slowly, grunting
with the effort. “Maybe I should
‘ire someone to pick up the place a bit.”
Joanna firmly took both broom and dustpan from her.
“Sit down, Helen. I’ll do
that.”
“Thanks, luv. Yer
an angel.”
“Hardly. I
hate flying and look awful in white.”
“Oh, you!” The middle-aged koala gave her a mock
push. “Yer a right nice-lookin’ girl, do ye know that?”
“Yup!” Joanna
grinned at her, stood up and twirled in a mock pirouette, bright ponytail
swinging. “And I’ve got a wonderful
personality!”
Helen smiled “Well, that ye gotta work on.
And learn te cook.”
Ew. No
thanks. Otherwise the guy
would actually expect me to do it. “Like
you did?”
Helen gave her a playful swat. “Get on with ye.
Why learn if my Bill liked doing it and was better at it?
Do ye think we’d have been ‘itched as long as we ‘ad if he ‘ad to
survive on my cookin’?”
“No, I guess not.”
Joanna hated all things domestic and deliberately
dropped eggs and burned toast until she was shooed from kitchen duty.
She complained that the smell of fried food made her nauseous.
She was willing do anything from helping her employer with paperwork to
shoveling manure in the stables where the ponies were kept; but she could not
stand the idea of cooking and serving food in the dining tent, especially to the
male carnies. Helen was a kind boss --- almost motherly --- but hopelessly
old-fashioned when it came to assigning chores. Although she refused to cook,
she did take in the laundry and mending. The
men did the heavy work, like helping to build and repair the rides.
The women were expected to take turns cooking and serving the daily
meals. Joanna believed in feigned
incompetence.
They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes,
each engrossed in her own thoughts.
The young bear sighed.
This wasn’t the first time she’d caused --- however indirectly
---trouble in Haley’s Carnival.
I should leave soon. Before
she gets wise and tosses me out on my ear.
She hated the greasy food, the mixed odors of people,
livestock, moving from town to town and lack of privacy.
It wasn’t nearly as bad as the Foundation, where she had been forced to
share a drafty dormitory, not to mention bathroom stalls without doors on the
stalls with eleven other young girls. The carnival was no
I should go away for a while.
Give it time to settle down around here.
“Helen,” Joanna announced. “I’d like some time
off.”
“Why---of course, if you like.
Yer such a ‘omebody.
Ye oughta go out more often, ‘ave some
fun with people yer own age.”
Joanna made a face. “You mean find a husband.”
“Well, ye don’t want to be left on the shelf,
sweetheart.”
“Yeah, I might expire.”
Playfully, Joanna lifted her ponytail and pointed to her neck.
“Say, am I starting to go bad? You
see any mold?”
“Ye devil!” Helen waved her off. “Get on with ye.
Take a week.”
“Thanks. I’ll
bring you back something nice.”
“Just come back in one piece.”
“I promise. Don’t worry about me.”
The middle-aged koala changed the subject. “Where will
ye go?”
“I’ll probably just find an inn somewhere in town and stay indoors and not talk to a soul.”
“Pah!” Helen made a dismissive sound. “That’s
a vacation?”
“Sure it is. I
just need some time alone.”
“I do wish ye’d take someone with you.”
“Like a chaperone, right?”
Joanna barely kept the note of amusement from her voice.
“No… just another girl to keep you out of trouble.
How about Bonnie? It’s just safer to go out in twos, dear.”
“No, thanks. I’ll
be fine.” What she really
meant was that she had to get away from the stink of hot dogs, cotton candy and
horse manure, but she didn’t want to hurt the old lady’s feelings.
“At least find some decent lodgin’s. Some of these
inns are real fleabags.” She paused to indicate the window, in the general
direction of the ramshackle trailers. “Not
nice like these.”
Joanna shrugged. All
she wanted was her own room. As
long as she didn’t have to share it, she’d be happy.
After living in a trailer, it’ll be like a palace.
She had grown up sharing a bedroom with her sister, then
a dormitory --- later. She hated
having a roommate --- the everyday noises of another person in cramped quarters,
the lack of privacy, sharing practically everything but a toothbrush.
Bonnie Scott, the lioness horse trainer, was nice enough, and although
they rarely saw each other during the day, the tiny trailer smelled of a curious
mixture of leather, horses, and manure until Joanna made
her leave the offending riding boots outside; she actually got headaches and was
forced to change, read and think with the bathroom door closed.
She spent as little time as possible in the confining
space, except to get snatches of sleep between the smell and her room mate’s
whinnying snores. And Bonnie was so damned dull --- she talked about
practically nothing but her stupid, smelly ponies.
Joanna had heard rumors that she had once been married, but chose her
precious darlings over her allergic husband.
It didn’t surprise her.
“I’ll look around,” Helen was saying.
“There must be a nice clean establishment in town.”
After Helen’s kitchen was
back in order, Joanna went back to her trailer to plan her holiday.
Wrinkling her nose at the smell, she untied the ribbon around her
ponytail and changed clothes. Then, she sat at the dressing table.
Seeing a smudge on the mirror, she rubbed it with her sleeve. Took another look, then whispered to herself, “Better than mortal man deserves.” It was not the conceited statement it seemed --- more of a mantra of a plain, lonely child all grown up and now reassuring herself that yes, she was pretty at last.
She brushed her hair, carefully untangling it, then tied
it with a narrow black ribbon. There.
What she believed to be her one good feature, she treated with
tenderness. Her father used to call
it ‘amber’. She refused to cut it to a fashionably shorter length.
Not beautiful, she knew that --- she was no fool.
But she made the best of what she had. Helen was teaching her to make her
own clothing, which she found relaxing. Before
Helen came along, Gordon taught her that she was beautiful and loved, although
not by her own family. No, that was wrong. Her
father loved her but he had to send her away, to keep her safe.
She wondered if he was still alive after all these years. Poor Daddy.
Her features were a little too sharp to be beautiful, but
that didn’t matter. She liked her looks just fine. She
deliberately walked with an earthy sort of grace, her slim hips moving in
concert with her long legs, knowing there were men who watched, no matter how
happily married or how pretty their girlfriends were.
Joanna smiled; it was sweet of Helen to make her
arrangements for her. She herself
hated dealing with schedules and itineraries.
Gordon had always done that sort of thing for her in the past, as well as
managed her financial affairs, when she was young and unable to object. Kept
her and the others under his control, first by kindness, then by force.
* * *
The
bus ran every hour, so Helen waited with Joanna at the bus stop to’ keep her
company’. After about twenty
minutes, Helen’s head drooped forward and she began to snore.
Amused, the bear shrugged. She
didn’t feel like talking anyway.
Suddenly, Strummer ran up to them, wheezing.
The whites of his eyes were almost as pink as his irises.
“J-Joanna, you’re going away?”
“Word travels fast, doesn’t it?” Joanna said
lightly, thinking: I can’t wait to get out of here!
He sneezed. “W-was it something I said?”
“Why?” She frowned, puzzled. “What do you
have to do with it?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” He turned crimson,
intensifying the pink splotches beneath his sickly yellow-white fur.
Blushing was not flattering on an albino bear. “I-I just
thought…”
But Joanna was not listening.
“It’s a vacation, Ned…um, Nick.”
“You can call me Strummer, you know,” he said
earnestly. He let out a bray of laughter, which gave way to a phlegm-filled
coughing fit. “Because I ‘strum’ the guitar, you get it?
Ha-ha-ha!” He blew his
nose.
“Uh-huh. I
got it.” Stepping back a couple of
paces, she glanced down the street. “You
got the time?”
“Time?” He
brightened. “Time to do what?”
“Time. As
in clock. As in where the big hand
and where the little hand are.”
He flushed to an
even more unbecoming shade of red and fumbled with his pocket watch. “It’s,
uh, uh t-two.”
Joanna looked
impatiently down the street again. Where
is that bus?
“WA-CHOO!”
Helen’s head jerked up. “What?
Who’s there?”
“Me,” her son said meekly. He
made a snerkling sound, wiped his nose on the back of his hand.
“Nicholas!” Helen scolded in a whisper, “Don’t use your hand. Ye
know better than that.”
“Sorry,
Ma.” Strummer blushed fiercely. “I forgot.”
He wiped his nose again, this time on his sleeve, then the seat of his
pants, leaving a slimy yellowish streak.
Helen smiled approvingly. “That’s better.”
Joanna stepped away from him, wrinkling her nose. “Ew.
You’re not sick, are you?”
Helen exclaimed, “Oh, sweetheart, I forgot! Nicky, I think ye need to
go back to bed.”
“But Ma, I wanted to say goodb---!”
“Go to bed, luv. I’ll
make ye some nice, ‘ot broth in a bit.
Get on with ye, now.”
“Okay, okay.” Humiliated,
Strummer turned and stomped off.
Helen sighed. “I swear I
don’t know what ails that boy sometimes.”
Joanna shrugged. She
glanced down at her old black skirt, hemmed and hanging exactly mid-calf.
Her blouse was white, primly buttoned as high as it would go. Helen
advised her to also wear a sweater; it was light blue.
She touched the dark blue sash of her wide-brimmed straw hat, making sure
that it was tied securely under her chin. For some bizarre reason, she felt like
Fran of Eight Gables.
Helen frowned at the small blue duffle bag. “Ye sure
ye got everything?”
“Yeah, thanks for finding that hotel for me.
I can’t believe I needed a character reference just to stay
there for a week, though. How come
you won’t let me read it?”
“Because it’s addressed to the lady, not you.
And yer head is big enough already.
How that hat fits, I’ll never know.”
Joanna hid a smile.
It was Helen’s way of telling her that it was a good letter.
“It’s a real nice place, I hear.
They ‘ave to be sure their guests are well behaved and
respectable-like. Meals are
provided, so ye never ‘ave to worry about cookin’.
Ye get yer own room and bath. I
think it’s perfect, don’t you?”
“Yes! I can’t wait to have my own room! Thanks.”
Joanna beamed at her and held up a small bag.
“I’ve got three books in here, see?
I’m gonna read non-stop and never talk to another living soul.”
“Well, I hope ye’ll find time to eat.”
Helen said. “I know ye want yer privacy, but it wouldn’t ‘urt ye to
be more sociable. Try to make some
nice new friends.”
Joanna gave a non-committal shrug. The idea did not
appeal to her, since friends usually expected you to spend time with them.
They were funny that way.
Helen seemed to read her mind. “Try, sweetheart.
Won’t you please try? For
me?”
Joanna sighed. “Okay.
For you.”
“Good girl.” The koala smiled. Joanna sighed again and allowed the older woman to hug her, and awkwardly patted her on the back in return. Not accustomed to showing affection, she was still somewhat uncomfortable when anyone embraced her. She tolerated Helen, who was extremely affectionate with everyone, and didn’t expect anything in return, unlike most people. She had grown up in an upper middle-class household where emotion was frowned upon. Her own parents were extremely undemonstrative, so she was never quite sure what to do.
With men, it was easy.
She knew what they wanted and sometimes granted it, sometimes not,
enjoying her power. If anyone ever told her that this very behavior proved that
she was lonely and craved the contact of another person, she would have laughed
at them.
She refused to admit that she was lonely ---even to
herself.
“Ye’ll be careful, won’t ye, luv?” Helen said
anxiously. “A young woman
alone…”
“Helen, I’m a big girl.
Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen to me.”
End of Part 1