WATER FOR ELEPHANT - Sara Gruen [97]
“Hush,” he says, leaning over to grab her hand. He plants a kiss on its palm. “Tonight heralds a new era. There is nothing too good for tonight.”
She picks the necklace up, letting it dangle from her fingers. She is clearly stunned.
August turns and hands me the square box.
I slide the ribbon off and carefully open the paper. The box inside is also of blue velvet. A lump rises in my throat.
“Come on now,” August says impatiently. “Open it! Don’t be shy!”
The lid opens with a pop. It’s a gold pocket watch.
“August—” I say.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful. But I can’t accept it.”
“Yes, of course you can. And you will!” he says, grabbing Marlena’s hand and pulling her to her feet. He plucks the necklace from her hand.
“No, I can’t,” I say. “It’s a wonderful gesture. But it’s too much.”
“You can and you will,” he says firmly. “I am your boss and that is a direct order. Anyway, why shouldn’t you accept that from me? I seem to remember you gave one up for a friend not too long ago.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them again, Marlena is standing with her back to August, holding her hair up as he fastens the necklace around her throat.
“There,” he says.
She twirls around and leans toward her vanity mirror. Her fingers reach tentatively for the diamonds on her throat.
“I gather you like it?” he says.
“I don’t even know what to say. It’s the most beautiful thing—Oh!” she squeals. “I nearly forgot! I’ve got a surprise, too.”
She pulls the third drawer of her vanity open and digs through it, tossing aside gauzy bits of costume. Then she pulls out a great expanse of shimmering pink something. She holds it by its edges, giving it a little shake so that it sparkles, throwing a thousand points of light.
“So, what do you think? What do you think?” she says, beaming.
“It’s . . . It’s . . . What is it?” says August.
“It’s a headpiece for Rosie,” she says, pinning it to her chest with her chin and spreading the rest of it across her front. “Look, see? This part attaches to the back of her halter, and these parts go on the side, and this part comes down over her forehead. I made it. I’ve been working on it for two weeks. It matches mine.” She looks up. There’s a small spot of red on each of her cheeks.
August stares at her. His lower jaw moves a bit, but no sound comes out. Then he reaches forward and clasps her in his arms.
I have to look away.
THANKS TO UNCLE AL’S superior marketing techniques, the big top is packed solid. So many tickets sell that after Uncle Al entreats the crowd to shift closer together for the fourth time, it becomes clear that this won’t be enough.
Roustabouts are sent to toss straw down on the hippodrome track. To keep the crowd occupied while this happens, the band plays a concert and the clowns, including Walter, tour the stands, handing out candy and chucking tots’ chins.
The performers and animals are lined up out back, ready to start the Spec. They’ve been waiting for twenty minutes and are fidgety.
Uncle Al bursts out the back of the big top. “Okay, folks, listen up,” he barks. “We’ve got a straw house tonight, so keep to the inside track and make sure there’s a good five feet between your animals and the rubes. If so much as one child gets run over, I’ll personally flay the person whose animal did it. Got it?”
Nods, murmurs, more adjusting of outfits.
Uncle Al pops his head back inside the big top, raising his hand for the band leader. “All right. Let’s go! Knock ’em dead! But don’t, if you know what I mean.”
Not a single child is run over. In fact, everyone is brilliant, and none more so than Rosie. She carries Marlena on her pink sequined head during the Spec, curling her trunk in a salute. There’s a clown in front of her, a lanky man who alternately does back flips and cartwheels. At one point, Rosie reaches forward and grabs hold of his pants. She yanks so hard his feet leave the ground. He turns, outraged, to face a smiling elephant. The crowd whistles and applauds, but after that