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Dark clouds approached from the southeast and the wind was picking up shaking the trees. In a small-town news travels fast, and something like finding a body in Silver Lake topped the list.
Rain began to fall lightly as Michael clocked in at the mill. He waved to Dave, the foreman.
“You hear what happened?” Dave called over the noise of the machinery.
“You mean the body in the lake?” Michael replied. He held his breath as he took off his coat and hat. “Who was it? Do you know?”
“Yeah, that hot head, Russo. You know him?”
“What! Johnny Russo! Are you sure?” Michael was relieved and worried at the same time. He was glad it wasn’t Dania but he’d had words with Russo and taken his job away from him. That might mean trouble for him.
“The police were at the lake when I came to work. Man, we haven’t had anything like this in twenty years, and now two things in less than a week.” Dave walked off, and Michael carried his damp coat and hat to the cloak room and hung them up.
Thank you, Lord. It wasn’t Dania.
Michael worked quietly the rest of the day, waiting for the whistle to blow.
Michael dodged puddles on the walk home from the mill. He ate a bite, changed, and was leaving for the carnival when Ellen grabbed him outside the back door.
“Michael, I need your help. Would you get a message to Tony for me?”
“Oh no, we are not doing this again!” Michael said trying to sound like he meant it this time.
“Please,” Ellen’s eyes were pleading. “When you see him, just ask him if he wants to see me again and tell him I’m working at Kinchela’s on Saturday. I get off at one.”
“Ellen, what are you thinking? You’re grounded and still finding ways to make things worse.” Michael said. If Ma found out she’d kill both of them.
“Michael, pleeease.”
“I wish I could. I’d do almost anything to make you happy, but this is . . .”
“I like him, Michael, and he likes me. He’s not what they think; he’s sweet and shy. He just puts on an act. You know him. He’s really good inside.” Ellen pleaded.
“Yes, I guess so. He needs to grow up. That’s for sure. He needs to take things more seriously.” Ellen’s eyes grow sad. Michael sighed, “Especially if he wants to see my sister.”
“Then you’ll do it?” Ellen started to give him a hug, but he stoped her. Michael shook his head. “I love you with all my heart, Ellen, but I can’t always be there for you. Ma is already mad at us. You and Tony will have to work things out on your own.”
Michael stalked off to the carnival. It stopped raining, but the wind was blowing the leaves off the trees.
The carnival grounds were muddy from the earlier rain. Walking through the gate, Michael heard people talking about Johnny Russo. There were uniformed police walking among the sparse early afternoon crowd. It’s a work night, and not many people would be coming out. Most probably they’ve spent what they could afford on the weekend. If they come now, it’s from curiosity over this latest trouble.
He passed the open door of the office trailer. Lieutenant Gillespie was there again asking questions. He saw Hugo sitting on an old chair. Hugo looked defiant, arguing with Gillespie. Michael needed his cash pouch, so he knocked on the door frame.
Gillespie looked up. “What do you want?” he asked roughly.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I need my assignment and pouch for tonight.” Michael told him.
“The carnival is shutting down, but you stay there. I want to talk to you.”
Michael’s stomach does a flip. What could the Lieutenant possibly want with me?
Just then Hugo left in a rage and slammed into Michael, almost knocking him down. “Out of my way, Mush!” Hugo shouted as he elbowed past.
Lieutenant Gillespie called Michael inside.
“Have a seat,” he said, indicating the chair Hugo had occupied.
Gillespie stalled, sifting through some papers, gathering his thoughts before looking at Michael. Finally, he laid them on the desk and settled back in his chair. “Michael Flannigan, right? And you live here in The Lake?”
“Yes, just past Watertown on Chandler Street.”
“Did you know Johnny Russo?” Gillespie asked.
“I know who he is. We went to the same school for a bit , but I was ahead of him. We didn’t hang around together or anything.” Michael was uncomfortable with the questions.
“Was there any trouble between you and Russo?”
“No not really. Like I told you, Koslov had me take his booth last Saturday night.”
“Well, you get to tell me again, son.” Gillespie’s tone had changed, and he moved forward in his chair.
“Koslov called him a dummy. He was angry about the money. He didn’t get paid that night.”
“You and Russo? Were any words exchanged over it?”
“On his way out, Russo passed the booth where I was. He was mad about being let go. He yelled at me, but it wasn’t an argument.”
“Did you see him at all after that night?”
“I saw him one other night. He walked past the booth. He was pushing through the crowd, and he looked really angry about something.” Gillespie’s eyes narrow, making Michael wonder if he is in trouble.
There was a long silence as Gillespie sat back in his chair. He studied Michael for what felt like a very long time. Then as if losing interest, he picks up the papers. “Okay, you can go now,” Gillespie said, making notes on the papers.
Michael was relieved to be out of that stuffy office. He realized he’s been sweating. Maybe he should go home, but he hasn’t forgotten about Dania and went to look for her.
As he walks down the row, he saw carnies dismantling the booths. One crew was breaking down the rides; others were pulling up tent stakes, packing all the games of chance, and getting ready to move on. There were a number of official-looking people working in a cordoned-off area. With each step Michael became more anxious. What he saw next stops him cold. They were taking down Dania’s tent! He rushed over. Maybe they will tell him where she was.
“Excuse me,” he said to three brutes pulling up stakes and working the lines. “Can you tell me where . . .” He was interrupted by shouting behind a tarp.
“Don’t you dare drag that in the mud, Chuccuo!” Dania was standing, hands on her hips, and giving orders to the men. “You, there! Be careful with that. It’s older than your family tree! And you... pack those bits and pieces carefully in the carton. I don’t want them rolling into one another and breaking.” She saw the three men were ready to collapse the structure. “Hold on, we’re not ready here,” and to the others, “You! Work faster!”
Michael watched with mixed feelings. He’s thrilled to see her alive, but it’s obvious she’ll be leaving town soon. For the first time he saw her dressed in regular clothes. Her brown trousers were tucked into her boots,
and the green jacket over her cream sweater accentuates her figure. Her hair hangs in damp ringlets from the light mist that was falling again. Carnival lights danced in the puddles around her feet. Michael was captivated.
Dania saw him, cocked her head, and raised her eyebrows. “And what are you looking at, Mush?” she asked with a grin.
“I was enjoying the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.” Michael’s smile made his blue eyes twinkle.
“A tent torn down is beautiful to you?” She knew exactly what he meant but liked to play.
Without thinking, Michael walked over and took her in his arms. Her eyes flashed. She started to say something, but his lips were on hers before she could protest or utter a word.
“You’re fascinating,” he whispered. His lips took hers again. Her lips part, just a little. He felt her hands on his chest . . . pushing him away. Breathless and blushing, she turned. She got a lot more than she bargained for with her game.
She turned back and looked over her shoulder at him. “We need to talk, away from people with big ears.” She spoke to the men, “Get on with your work.”
Michael followed her, walking behind the tent to the trailers.
“This is home to carnival people. You see a mix of sizes and shapes, and probably think a half-dozen are ready to fall apart. But we are busy elsewhere most the time. We only need a place to sleep.
Michael noticed that the office trailer is the biggest and sits well away from the others.
She pointed to one a few yards away, “That’s mine,” Daria said. “We can talk in there.”
“Come inside out of the rain,” she offered when they reached it. Her trailer looks fairly new. She went up the steps, unlocked the door.
“Sit down,” she said, nodding to the small eating area. “Would you like coffee?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Michael answered looking around the small quarters. He squeezed into the bench seat at the table. It was a tight fit for his six-foot frame. He watched her take off her wet jacket and toed her boots off. She filled the coffee pot with water and coffee and placed it on the two-burner stove.
The inside of the trailer was paneled in wood. The roof is low, but he can stand up straight. It’s compact, and every inch has a purpose.
“I’m not sure what’s going on here, Michael,” Dania said. Her Russian accent intrigued him, as she sat down opposite him. “I like you. How much I don’t know.” She looked into his blue eyes and continued. “We come from different worlds, and soon I will be moving on. This is the life I know.” She swept her hands to encompass the trailer. The coffee pot was percolating in time with Michael’s heart-beat. “We came from Russia, my father, Hugo and me. My mother died many years ago. We were with the
circus then, but the war came, and things were never the same. We left our life there behind and came here for a new one.”
She absently picked up a carnival flyer on the table. “My father had a knife act and thought he could join a circus here.” She aimlessly tore at the flier as she talked. “He got an offer to buy the carnival, and that is what he did. It is not an easy life, and sometimes I wish I could leave. My father and I fight about this sometimes, but I give in and stay . . . telling fortunes; telling them what they want to hear. You will find money or a great love. Too bad I cannot tell my own fortune. Then I’d know what to do.”
Michael covered her hands with his. How delicate her fingers were. “I don’t have any answers. All I know is that I would like time to get to know you.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “When do you leave?” She began to tear up and looked away. “We will leave when the police say we can. They have not found who broke in and hurt my father, and now that poor boy is dead.”
Noticing her destress, he changed the direction of the conversation. “And one more question, what in heaven’s name is a mush? I have been called that ever since my first day here?” That made her laugh.
She forced a smile. “Mush, is our word for a guy.”
“Oh, good. I was thinking the worst.” Michael said smiling back.
“No, it’s ok. Many of the carnival workers are from Eastern Europe, Russia, Romania. It is a language that unites us all. Your young men are picking it up. I have heard them. They use it among themselves as a code only they know.”
“Do you have to leave with the carnival? Could you stay a while?” Michael hoped she would.
“How could I do that? How would I support myself? Should I be a prostitute on the streets for my supper?”
She got up and pulled cups from the cupboard. She put the milk and sugar on the table and went to pour the steaming coffee.
“What makes you say that?” Michael was shocked by the heat of her response.
“My father wanted me to entertain his friends, politicians he needed to get the permits. What he didn’t know was how they grab and make remarks when he is not looking. Their hands on me . . . The smell of their cigars made me sick.” She looked away for a moment. “I will choose who I make love with! No one makes me or chooses for me!”
Michael was fascinated by her temper. No one else he knows has her spirit, and he is finding himself drawn to it and her.
Maybe Ma would too. But if she leaves, she will never meet Ma or the family. Michael thought to himself, imagining.
“Do the police suspect anyone? Lieutenant Gillespie talked to me again tonight.” Michael asked.
“He talked to me again, too.” She took a sip of coffee. “They found a tent peg with blood on it in Silver Lake. He
––––––––
thinks it was someone from the carnival that killed Johnny Russo.”
Michael thought about that as he drank the strong hot coffee.
They talked for a while about the robbery and Johnny Russo. They talked about where the carnival will go from here, and Dania’s life on the road. It was getting late. Michael struggled to pull himself away. They stood at the door, not wanting to say goodbye. He took her into his arms, kissed her one more time before leaving. He yearned for more than a kiss. His pulse was racing as he broke away from her and headed home.