The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [129]
When I resumed my seat, I felt shyness and guilt, both, envelop me; I concentrated on my knitting with such intensity, the needles came close to poking out my eyes. My sister was a stranger to me now in so many ways; she had outpaced me, she who had always held docilely on to my hand while I led. Suddenly, our roles were reversed. And I knew Minnie wanted only to share her joy; I knew she wanted only to teach me the things she was learning with every passing day, every evidence of the child growing within.
But I was as reluctant a pupil now as she once had been. For the lessons my sister wanted to teach me were lessons not of the mind but of the heart.
“So no boys’ names, then? Not even one, just in case?” I returned to a safe subject.
Minnie was silent for a moment; she turned her head away from me, staring out her window, but finally, after a soft little sigh, she replied, “No. But I do have an idea for a girl’s name. A perfectly lovely girl’s name.”
“What?”
“Pauline,” my sister said quietly.
I dropped my knitting again, tears filling my eyes once more—oh, there was not even ten minutes a day, it seemed lately, that I did not cry!
“Oh, Minnie, that’s too—too sweet of you. Mr. Barnum will be so touched.”
“Indeed, he will,” said a familiar hearty voice. Minnie and I both looked up, startled; there, in the doorway, stood Mr. Barnum himself. A beautiful cradle, adorned with an enormous pink silk bow, was in his arms.
“Mr. Barnum!” Minnie exclaimed; with a very feminine gesture she patted at her hair and smoothed the ribbons on her bed jacket. I ran to her and tried to prop her up a bit upon her pillows, but she was too cumbersome; she smiled and raised her hands helplessly.
I glanced at Mr. Barnum; he was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his shock at her appearance. His hands shook as he set the cradle down, and his gray eyes were misty with tears.
“We didn’t expect you,” I told him, rushing over to take his hat, placing my hand upon his arm to steady him. He smiled and kissed me on the cheek; one of his tears fell upon my face, and I pressed my hand to it, absorbing it into my own flesh. Then I turned away, hoping he hadn’t seen.
“Would you really like it if I named her Pauline?” Minnie asked him.
“It would mean the world to me. I can think of no greater tribute.” Recovering himself, Mr. Barnum pulled up a chair next to Minnie’s bed and plopped himself upon it; in his shock, he must not have seen that it was a small chair, made for us. So he sat with his knees up to his chin, his fleshy body spilling over the arms; Minnie and I burst into laughter, and he had no idea why.
“What? What is it?”
“Nothing.” I signaled Minnie to keep quiet, and she did, with a look of such delight upon her swollen face that my heart lightened enough so that I was not, for one blessed, fleeting moment, aware of it.
“Well, Miss Minnie, it’s good to see you so cheerful, anyway.”
“I have our Vinnie to thank for that. She never lets me get bored or anxious. And she tells me wonderful stories every day about all the things she’s seen.”
“You’ve accompanied her on all her travels; surely there’s not much she can tell you?”
“Oh, but there is! It’s almost as if I haven’t been in the same places she has, for she remembers things I didn’t even know happened! Like the time the Maharaja tried to give her a purse of rubies—I had no idea!”
“You were too shy, Pumpkin. You wanted to remain behind in our rooms and have your dinner with Mrs. Bleeker, remember?”
“I know. That’s why I love hearing your stories; I get to live my life all over again, through different eyes!” Minnie smiled at me, and I had to look away; I didn’t like to recall how long she had been in my shadow. I didn’t like