“I don’t know how I can say this any more plainly.” Dimitri slid his suspenders up his arms and donned the bloodstained vest he would wear in the role of the crazed husband seconds away from murdering his wife. “Miss Jamie has a headache. She’s blinded by it and can only lie in the darkness with a cold compress over her eyes. She won’t be able to perform tonight.”
Jonah was frantic. Five minutes before the show was set to begin, with Rafe already out front of the tent, whipping the crowd into a frenzy of excitement, Dimitri had come breezing in with the announcement that their star performer was incapacitated. Jamie played the wife in The Black Cat and also the ghost of Lenore in The Raven. Mindy could take on the roles, but the costume changes would be problematic. She had her own tableaux to take part in.
“This will take less than a half hour of her time,” Jonah argued. “Surely she can drag herself from her bed for that long.” He knew Jamie’s game. She was messing up his show because she could. She hadn’t liked him since he’d arrived, probably because of his involvement with Rafe, whom she’d set her sights on and been disappointed by. Whatever the reason, she was sabotaging his opening performance with her sham headache.
“Let me.” Claudia, whose job it was to help with the quick costume changes between scenes, spoke up. “I ain’t pretty like her, but I know what needs to be done.”
Claudia looked so hopeful that Jonah realized she’d wanted to be a part of the show all along. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask her to take on a role, and even now his heart sank; her size made her inappropriate, and there were no costumes big enough to fit her.
As if reading his mind, she said, “I’ll wear my best dress. It’ll be good enough.”
Jonah glanced at Mindy, who could probably fit into Jamie’s costume, although she was hardly willowy. Then he looked at Claudia’s earnest face and knew he couldn’t disappoint her.
“That’d be very helpful, Claudia. Thank you.”
Her beaming smile was brighter than the lights Sam had fixed to the tent poles. Jonah returned her smile and let go of his desire to have every aspect of this show turn out perfectly. It was a cobbled-together carnival sideshow, for God’s sake.
Claudia hurried off to change, and then there was no more time for panic or final fixes as Rafe ushered people into the tent. Jonah drew a deep breath, tied the black cape that Rafe had lent him around his shoulders, and stepped into the light.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight you will be treated to a depiction of the depravity lurking deep in the soul of any unrepentant murderer. Some of you may have read the masterful inventions of Mr. Edgar Allan Poe. To others, his works might be unfamiliar. Tonight we will share a taste of the macabre horror to be found in the pages of his stories. We will explore the shadowy, cobwebbed corners of the human mind we all prefer to keep hidden, that distorted face in the mirror we keep turned to the wall.”
Sweating profusely beneath the hot light, Jonah launched into the performance of The Tell-Tale Heart. Behind the curtain, Sam beat a small drum throughout the recitation, building in loudness as the story reached its climax. At the moment the murderer’s guilt was revealed, the curtain swept open to reveal the police inspector, played by Mindy wearing a false mustache, and the murderer, Jack Treanor, pulling back a floorboard to reveal a bloody heart fashioned from a gristly hunk of raw beef. Under the single light, surrounded by deep shadows, the effect was quite horrific.
Gasps came from the audience, and one woman shrieked in surprise. Jonah nearly smiled at the reaction—much better than titters of disdain, which this tableau might earn from a more sophisticated audience.
The curtain closed, and he began the second story of the evening. He was nervous as a cat himself as he related the beginning of The Black Cat. Would Claudia’s largeness spoil the effect of the lovely wife facing her demented husband’s ax? He hated himself for dreading that her size would turn something meant to curdle the blood into a laughable farce.
But when Sam drew back the curtain to reveal the murder scene, more appreciative gasps came from the audience. Jonah glanced at the performers—Dimitri with his ax raised and Claudia cringing away from him with wide, horrified eyes. Her reaction was perfect, much better than Jamie’s annoyed grimace.
After the audience had looked their fill, the curtain closed again.
Several more illustrated tales completed the evening, and when the audience greeted the final curtain with enthusiastic applause, Jonah glowed with pleasure.
Standing at the back of the crowd, Rafe grinned and gave him a wink. No wonder ministers always belabored the fact that pride was a sin, for Jonah felt smugness threaten to swell his head to bursting. So much self-satisfaction could only lead to damnation. A man might forget to humble himself before God without a preacher to remind him of his worthlessness.
As the customers left the tent, chattering excitedly about what they’d seen, Rafe joined Jonah on the makeshift stage. “We’ll do two shows a night from now on, with some time in between to give the folks a chance to tell their neighbors about it. No doubt there’ll be complaints from some religious types about the lurid nature of the show, but that will only make people more interested.”
Rafe watched him as he spoke about “religious types.” Did he expect Jonah to suddenly turn into one of his father’s disciples again? Those days of adherence to a grim God’s rules were long gone—he’d been like Adam, driven from the garden. Except the sight of Rafe’s slightly sardonic smile made him realize this was more like paradise than anything in his old life. Even if he had been welcomed back to his town a hero, even if his mother and father were to treat him like the prodigal son, he wouldn’t be able to return. Or at least he wouldn’t stay. They’d flayed him, but now he understood, to the bottom of his soul, that he’d shed that old skin as well. This was where he belonged. And he was grinning as Claudia gave a shout of glee and came toward him.
“They loved it!” Claudia grabbed Jonah into a crushing hug that drove the breath from him. “I was acting.”
“And doing a marvelous job of it,” Rafe said. “Well done, everyone. Now, back to work. The evening’s not over yet.” Before he walked away, he gave Jonah a look that promised him they’d meet later.
After the tents were battened down for the night and the animals fed and watered, Jonah lingered near the House of Mirrors. He didn’t have long to wait. From over by the chuck wagon where he was giving Cook money for supplies, Rafe gave Jonah an intense look. And when Rafe walked off into the night beyond the perimeter of the encampment, Jonah followed.
They met in the nearby woods, coming together hard and greedy as if they’d missed each other for years. Rafe pushed Jonah up against the thick trunk of a tree and ravaged his mouth with plunging, searing kisses. Jonah grasped hanks of the other man’s long hair and twisted his fingers in it. His cock was a tent pole capable of holding up the Orcully Brothers’ big top. He wanted to drive it inside Rafe and use him hard.
Rafe pulled away, took Jonah’s hand, and led him through the trees. “Come on.”
They hurried through the dark woods like children playing at being explorers. The night was mysterious, and Jonah was dying to know where Rafe was leading him. But he followed without question.
They broke out of the trees into a clearing where a pool reflected the white face of the half-moon in distorted ripples.
“The night’s warm enough. I thought we’d take a swim.”
“How’d you know this was here?”
“A local. He figured we’d need a place to wash up and water the stock.” Rafe started to shed his clothes.
Jonah glanced around the clearing, silent but for the night songs of crickets and tree frogs. “Aren’t you afraid we might get caught?”
“Not this time of night. And if we do, we’re only taking a swim.”
What had happened to the cautious Rafe? Suddenly Jonah was acting as the voice of reason. Rafe was so unpredictable and changeable that Jonah had stopped trying to guess which face he’d show on any given night.
Jonah unbuttoned his shirt. He’d grown up in the country, where boys swam nude or in underclothes in a local pond in the summer. Rafe was right. There was nothing scandalous about swimming—except for Jonah’s lustful thoughts at the sight of Rafe’s naked body frosted by moonlight.
He purged himself of lust by quickly stripping off his clothes and diving into the cold water. Surely they could spend one evening together without groping and grabbing, simply swimming and playing in pure manly friendship. The plunge into the murky depths refreshed him, cleansing the stickiness of sweat from his skin. The water might have been a little muddy, but it felt better than the paltry washups available at camp.
Jonah rose to the surface and swam across the pond. He stopped when he reached the congestion of cattails, turned, and went back the other way. He met Rafe bobbing in the middle, moving his arms and legs gently to keep afloat. They circled each other, paddling slowly, not touching except for the accidental graze of a leg below the surface.
“You like to swim?”
“Yes. It was one activity my father approved of. He claimed it was healthy for mind and body. Of course, he didn’t know what kinds of thoughts played in my mind when I saw the other boys’ bodies.” Jonah shook his head at his own perverse nature. “I always knew I was different, but couldn’t stop my fantasies—or give life to them. Reverend Burns may have been a hypocrite who betrayed me, but at least he finally got me to admit the truth to myself.”
Jonah paddled sideways, gazing at Rafe’s inscrutable expression. “What about you? When did you first know there was something…wrong with you?”
“In my opinion, there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with our proclivities. I’ve seen much more of the world than you have, Jonah, and I’ve learned there are many people who are attracted to their own sex—both men and women. My sexual bent is the least of what’s ‘wrong’ with me.”
“What is then?” Jonah’s foot bumped against Rafe’s leg as he circled him. “What do you think is wrong with you?”
For several moments, the splash of water as he swam was the only sound that came from Rafe. Then at last he replied. “You’re not the only one who left home under dire circumstances. The difference is you were driven away, while I chose to leave. To put it more bluntly, I ran away—from my responsibilities, from a truth I didn’t want to face. I reinvented myself.”
“You became Rafe Grimstone,” Jonah said. “So, who are you really?”
Rafe’s eyes glittered in the moonlight. His sleek black hair made him look like an otter swimming in slow circles. His teeth flashed as he smiled. “Ah, that’s a story for another time.”
And then he ducked beneath the water and swam away. Elusive as always.
Jonah felt a pang of irritation. He’d shared everything about himself, but Rafe still wasn’t willing to trust him with his secrets. What would it take to convince the man to show his true face? He took his irritation, dived under the water with it, and chased after Rafe to grab his heel and pull him backward. They both rose, sputtering, and wrestled together, skin sliding over skin, muscle straining against muscle as they fought to dunk each other.
Although Jonah laughed as he slid from Rafe’s grip and swam away, their fighting was more than play. Rafe’s tension and Jonah’s frustration were all tied up in the water battle. When Rafe nearly caught him, Jonah dived underwater again, grasped the other man’s waist, and dragged him down before resurfacing for air.
Rafe popped up in front of him and trod water as he planned his next move. Suddenly he lunged, grabbed Jonah, and pulled him under. They continued to push each other underwater, but as they grappled together, limbs wrapped around each other, chests, stomachs, and groins pressed close, and the game turned from a childish match to something more adult.
Bobbing in the water, breathing hard, Jonah leaned in and seized Rafe’s mouth in a punishing kiss. They fought to keep afloat while kissing deeply and trying to touch each other all over. Despite his disappointment in Rafe’s refusal to confide in him, Jonah believed he’d found true heaven, an exalted state of being that didn’t require his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ to achieve. How wrong his father had been. It was possible to find pure heavenly joy on earth.
After several minutes they broke apart and swam to shore, sloshing through the shallows then collapsing onto the grassy bank side by side.
“Look at the stars,” Jonah murmured. Pulsing bits of light were cast across the sky like diamonds on black velvet. They’d never appeared so beautiful, nor, he was sure, had anyone ever experienced a night to compare with this one.
“Do you know the constellations?” Rafe asked.
“Some. My father was disappointed in me because I had some interest in astronomy, and he thought it a pointless science.” Jonah sighed, recalling the ridiculous fights about God and the universe. “I’m fairly certain I can’t change who I am, but looking back, I wish I’d done a better job of hiding the parts of myself that annoyed my family.”
“I think a parent’s love should be constant—no matter what. ‘Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. It is the star to every wand’ring bark, whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.’”
“And you claim to dislike Shakespeare.” Jonah looked at the other man’s bold profile. “I don’t believe you. No one who can quote the bard so beautifully can be indifferent to his work.”
“I didn’t say I was indifferent. I said I didn’t care for much of it. Particularly those dramas that drag on endlessly. Really, who can stomach an unstable lad like Hamlet, who can’t make up his mind to move forward on a course but mopes around act after act? How dreary.”
Jonah pushed up on one elbow and supported his head on his hand. “But he had to be certain. He couldn’t just strike at his uncle without being absolutely sure he was guilty. And even once he was positive, he had to choose the right way to exact his revenge.”
“Perhaps he should’ve just accepted defeat and left the castle. It would’ve been far healthier for everyone involved,” Rafe said drily. “Fewer corpses piling up.”
“But running away would have been dishonorable,” Jonah protested.
“Mm,” Rafe grunted. “Only cowards run away, I suppose.”
Jonah studied his face and tried to decipher the message behind his caustic tone. The unstudied remark about Hamlet had been a mistake. He knew Rafe had fled some situation at home and felt some shame about it. “Tell me about your family, please. I’ve told you about mine.”
Rafe exhaled loudly. “Suffice to say my father died when I was young. My mother and brother still lived when I left England. I’ve told you there was a reason behind my leaving, and that’s all I will say about it.”
Rafe would permit him only so close and no closer, and Jonah couldn’t continue to prod without driving Rafe away. Yet how could they be truly intimate when the other man withheld so much from him? Jonah stared at the stars and wondered what true intimacy someone like him had the right to expect. He should be grateful for companionship and the ease of bodily urges. In his old life he’d been profoundly lonely. Even companionship was more than he’d ever expected to achieve.
“Your show tonight was very entertaining. The people loved it.” Rafe broke the silence. “We’ll give it a run, and if it proves successful, perhaps you can expand on it. Maybe direct the others in acting a few scenes from your beloved Shakespeare, eh? Would you like that?”
Jonah understood Rafe was trying to distract him, like an adult shaking a rattle in front of a baby. But he was no child to be bought off with a few pieces of penny candy. He was sick of pushing—and uninterested in sulking. He waited until he was calm before answering.
“Only if you think people would be interested. They come for a carnival, not highbrow entertainment, as you pointed out.”
“The truth is, you’ve too much talent to waste yourself here,” Rafe said. “Next time we’re near a city, you should take a train to New York. Find yourself a real job working in one of the theaters, forge a real career for yourself.”
Jonah sat up and gazed at the other man’s dark, inscrutable features. The starry sky no longer seemed magical, and a mosquito whined by his ear. “You want me to leave?”
“I’m telling you there’s a grand future for you beyond this cheap traveling show. Don’t limit yourself. And if you’re lingering here because of me…don’t.”
Silence reigned except for the mosquito’s high-pitched tune. That one word “don’t” was like a slap in the face.
“You knew this was temporary,” Rafe continued. “This thing between you and me can’t last. Doesn’t mean it isn’t good or doesn’t matter, but it’s transitory. We have this summer, not forever. Soon the season will be over, and everything will change.”
The boy inside Jonah wanted to jump up and stomp off crying. But he was a grown man, so he nodded coolly, taking Rafe’s words in stride.
“Of course, I know that. I don’t imagine I’m in love. I’m not such a romantic fool. We’re worldly men having a brief affair, and when it’s over, we’ll part as friends.” He swatted at his neck. “Now, I think we’d better go back, because I’m getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.”
A part of Jonah watched himself perform. He was impressed with his aplomb as he dressed and kept up inconsequential chatter all the way back to camp. He really was quite an amazing actor. Rafe was right. With skills like these, maybe there could be stage work for him in New York. He waited until he was alone on his bedroll to snarl bitter curses under his breath.