Chapter One

Oliver

“Oliver Graham, get your keister moving! The boss will be in any minute!”

I groaned as I rolled off of my bed in the back of the workshop. Sleep had glued my eyes shut during the night. I aggressively rubbed at my lids, just trying to be able to pry them open.

My name is Oliver Graham. The year is 1934, and I turned twenty-two a few months ago. I didn’t think there was anything too special about me.

When I was a child, I never thought I would be sleeping in the back of a carpenter’s workshop. Covered in a constant layer of dust and living off of the scraps I could afford. I never thought I would be orphaned by twelve, either. Sometimes life is just a bitch.

I had done a little bit of everything in the past decade. When my parents first died, I worked as a field hand for a neighbor, but that didn’t last long. I worked in a bakery, mechanic shop, a dinner, a hotel, a mine, a manufacturing plant, and a few other jobs. I jumped from town to town. Job to job. Nothing felt right. Nothing was stable. The whole country was desperate to find any small thread of stability; it wasn’t just me.

“I hear you, Chester,” I mumbled as I ran my finger through my curly brown hair, trying to make myself look less disheveled. I glanced at my reflection in the smudged window glass. I pulled my shirt sleeve over my fist and made concentric circles. I let the thin fabric drop from my hand as I touched the cool glass tracing my face in the reflection with my fingers.

The residual grease, sweat, and dirt from yesterday lingered on my face. I grabbed an old rag and tried to rub away the grim. I could use a bath, but that was a luxury I didn’t get to partake in very often. I would have to try and take a dip in the river tonight or maybe tomorrow.

I tugged my suspenders over my shoulders and adjusted my duds as I walked into the workshop. I inhaled deeply; I loved the smell of sawdust, something about it was comforting. It probably had something to do with the fact this was the most stable job I ever had. I got lucky that day.

“You hit the hooch last night?” Chester leaned up against a workbench. Chester was a good kid. He was only eighteen, but he acted like a complete youngster. Chester had blue eyes and still had some baby fat lingering in his cheeks.

“No, Chester, I did not,” I ruffled his ginger hair as I walked past him. His Pa died earlier this year. Now Chester was helping his family survive. His Ma was a seamstress, and between their two salaries, they supported his little brother and sister. I liked the youngster, but he always assumed I was drinking. I lived in the shop’s office in the back on a dirty cot; where would I get the money to drink?

The jingle of the bell echoed through the workshop as the door swung open. “Morning, boys!”

There was Richard Wilkinson, the boss. He was gracious enough to put up with Chester and me. He was a conscientious man. The type of person who wouldn’t even squash a spider that wondered its way into his shop. For some reason, he saw something in me. Even if I didn’t.

“Morning, boss.” I greeted Richard as I grabbed my work apron off its hook.

“Morning.” Chester ran his hand over his hair, trying to flatten it as he shot me a sour face.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I asked as I pulled a clipboard of a rusted nail in the wall.

“Mr. Wilson wants us to take a look at the platform at the station,” Richard called over his shoulder while he rummaged through his wooden toolbox.

“Why?” Chester groaned slightly as he adjusted his overalls. “We just fixed it a couple of months ago. There is no way that it needs maintenance already. Not unless there was a herd of elephants that ran through town, and I missed it.”

“Speaking of elephants, Mr. Wilson says there is a circus coming into town. He just wants to make sure everything is as safe as possible.” Richard thumped Chester on the forehead. “Why are you questioning a paying job? When did you get such deep pockets? Chester, if someone wants you to do something for a quick buck and it’s an easy job, why wouldn’t you do it?”

“Dip,” I smirked.

“A circus? Aces!” Chester grinned, ignoring Richard’s lecture and my jab. “I bet my kid siblings would love to go. When are they getting into town?”

“Did you even listen to me?” Richard shut his took box with a loud click. Chester offered the boss a sheepish half-hearted smile. Richard pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head at Chester. “They are arriving this afternoon. So get your cans in gear.”

“Yes, sir,” I grabbed my cap and threw it on my head. “Come on, Chester, get your keister moving.”

I grinned as I snatched up my toolbox before I followed Richard out the door. I hopped up into the back of his pickup truck and stretched my legs out as I leaned up against the side of the bed with my arms tucked behind my head.

The job was a piece of cake. There was nothing wrong with the platform; we secured a couple of the joists and fixed some creaky boards. Nothing we did was going to be the difference between life or death. Richard was right when he was talking about this job being a quick buck.

We finished the job pretty quickly. The sun was high in the sky as we sat on the tailgate of Richard’s truck. Richard’s wife, Phyllis, had visited her sister recently and gotten a ton of fresh eggs from her farm. Phyllis had sent her husband to work with egg salad sandwiches. As always, Richard shared with us.

We sat there in comfortable silence, watching the world slowly go on around us. Mothers walking with their children. Men tucked away in the corner talking with their heads down. Merchants trying to peddle their goods. The world had changed. Once it had been so vibrant and full of life, now it was shades of gray.

I took another bite of my sandwich as I heard the faint clickety-clack of an incoming train. Smoke billowed up over the treetops. I felt my heart starting to beat faster and faster.

Richard pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “Well, boys, it looks like the circus is in town.” He slipped his watch back into his pocket and pulled out a deck of luckies. Richard slid out a butt and pressed it to his lips before lighting it.

The town suddenly came alive like someone dumped gasoline on a live wire. Everyone was abuzz and filled with energy. Just the presence of the train was enough for us. Was it hope, or was it just the promise of a distraction? Whatever it was, we were already eating out of this circus’s hands.

Children rushed towards the entrance of the station. Their energy was infectious; it seeped into every single person on the street. People slowly wander after the children, first one by one and then two by two. Richard, Chester, and I seemed to be the only ones who didn’t go to the train station. Everyone seemed to be talking over the top of each other in giddy anticipation.

Suddenly the crowd that had formed around the station parted. Two figures made their way through. It was as if time slowed down just for them. No one dared to get in their way. Each step they took, the crowd followed a few yards back.

The duo was a man and a woman. I had never seen them before. The man had dark features, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His skin gleamed in the afternoon sun; he carried a glass bottle in one hand and caressed the woman’s hand with his other. The woman was a hot tomato; she had luscious long black hair and dark eyes. She wore a black lace dress, black opera gloves, and a black top hat.

Every step she took caused the women around town to slightly recoil. She was ginchy, and she knew it. She knew everyone else knew it, too.

The woman caught me staring at her and locked eyes with me. She winked at me and smiled as they passed. Confidence poured off of her. Only as she walked away from me did I notice the tattoos that littered her skin.

“Christ.” Chester hoarsely whispered out.

“Your jaw is hanging open, boy,” Richard blew out a puff of smoke. Chester shut his mouth and continued to watch the parade of people.

The duo walked to the small park across the street from the train station. The man helped the woman climb up on a bench. The woman planted a kiss on his cheek before placing both hands on her hips expectantly.

The man brought the bottle up to his lips and took a mouthful. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and spewed out the liquid in his mouth; fire ruptured into the air. The crowd that followed them was in complete awe.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages! Come to Cirque du Lune tomorrow night! Hear the music, laugh at the clowns, be thrilled and amazed by our performers!” The woman boomed. “Come one! Come all! Let your heart soar!”

A fire roared to life in the air beside her. The crowd clapped and cheered. The woman seemed to be soaking up all of the attention.

“Cirque du Lune will not disappoint you!” She called over the noise.

Once their spiel was over and the crowd began to disperse, the duo started back to the train station. I’m not sure what came over me, but I called out to the pair as they passed the truck. "What does Cirque du Lune mean?"

The words slipped through the woman’s cherry red lips like they were some sort of dirty secret. “Cirque du Lune is French for Circus of the Moon.”

“That’s an odd name for a circus,” I mused. Chester landed a shift elbow to my ribs, and I groaned on the impact.

“Make sure to come by tomorrow night and see if you think we are odd then.” The woman let out an amused snort. “Oh, buddy, we’ll blow your mind.”