• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

As I stood on the top of the stairs, my favorite porter beamed in recognition and bustled over to lift me down to the platform. “Good morning, Mrs. General! Here to see Mr. Barnum?”

“Yes.” I handed him a nickel.

“I thought so—he’s outside in his carriage, waiting for you.”

“He is?” Mr. Barnum never came to the station himself. How odd that he had done so today of all days—but then again, perhaps it wasn’t. Tears filled my eyes; I had not yet cried, so determined was I to fix Minnie’s “problem.” But the relief of being able to share this with someone who possessed sense and determination; the relief of being able to share my burden, period, with the one person I desired to share my burdens with—it was so unexpectedly sweet. I reached into my reticule again, this time removing a handkerchief; dabbing my eyes, I blinked away the rest of my tears.

Then I followed the porter outside to the curb, where Mr. Barnum’s enclosed carriage was waiting. He was standing next to it, bundled up in a heavy coat with a white fur collar that reached to the bottom of his ears even as his white curls brushed the tops, so that his face—pink as a baby’s in the cold—stood out vividly. He was heavier now, more wrinkled, a bit round-shouldered, with a tendency to lean more decidedly upon his walking stick. But his gray eyes were just as lively, just as perceptive, as ever.

“What’s wrong?” he barked as soon as he saw me. He threw his cigar upon the pavement, crushed it with his walking stick, and lifted me up into the carriage with such haste that I swallowed my words of greeting before they could reach my lips. And then we were inside, Mr. Barnum rapping his hand upon the outside of the carriage, signaling for the driver to go. “Take the long way,” he shouted, sticking his head out the door before he shut it quickly against the cold. We lurched away, the horses soon settling into a smooth, slow trot that caused the carriage to sway gently, the lanterns—lit in the gloom of this depressing January day—to swing to and fro, casting ominous shadows upon us.

“It’s Minnie,” I said breathlessly, shivering, although there were heated bricks on the floor and hidden in the corners of the seat. Mr. Barnum leaned forward and tucked a buffalo robe about me; it was so heavy that I felt pinned to the seat, unable to move. But I was warm, anyway.

“What is it? Is there trouble with her husband? I always wondered about him; he seemed too darn polite, even for an Englishman.”

“No, not that. She’s—she’s with child.” I whispered this, feeling for the first time the indelicacy of the subject.

“She is? Why, that’s wonderful!” A great, crooked grin pushed across his face, and he clapped his gloved hands in delight. “How happy you all must be!”

“No!” I shouted it, frustrated that he did not immediately understand the situation. “No, it’s not wonderful. It’s terrible. Don’t you see? She’s—we must do something about it. Minnie was not—I was not—we were both normal-size babies. Mama always told us this, don’t you remember? I weighed six pounds when I was born. Do you know how much Minnie weighs now? Thirty pounds, at the most. Can you imagine—well, you were born on a farm, you must know! I remember Mama and Delia saying, long ago, how I must never—and now Minnie is, and she can’t, she can’t, it will kill her, and we must stop it!” Somehow I had flung that oppressive robe off me, kicking it to the floor, and now I was rocking back and forth, my arms clutching my shoulders. I knew I sounded wild, unhinged, but I did not care.

Comprehension dawned upon Mr. Barnum’s face; he paled, then colored, then his eyes narrowed, as if he was squinting at some faraway point, and I took a big, crackling breath and wiped my face with the sleeve of my coat. He was thinking; the wheels in that great, perpetual-motion brain of his were turning, and I was weak with relief. I knew I could depend on him.

“Excuse me, Vinnie, for being so forward, but we must dispense with modesty. How far along is she?”

“She thinks almost three months, but the idiot doctor apparently can