“You are a success,” he said. Levi could practically see the coins falling in Barnum’s eyes. “We can charge anything for people to see you—anything at all. The whole Eastern Seaboard is going to flock to New York to see you.”
“A woman was killed,” Amelia said dully.
Levi thought she looked like a piece of tarnished silver. The shine was off her, and her grey eyes were muted.
“Yes, that was unfortunate,” Barnum said. He didn’t sound like he thought it was unfortunate at all. “But the show was a sensation. People won’t be able to get enough of you! All the tickets for tomorrow’s presentation have already sold out.”
“I’m not doing any more presentations,” Amelia said.
Levi thought it would come to this. When they’d finally managed to clear the crowd out of the hall (with the help of several city constables), he and Barnum had been unable to rouse her from her isolation in the tank no matter how hard they knocked and yelled.
Finally Levi had stripped down to his underclothing and climbed into the tank. Barnum certainly wouldn’t do it. The water was salty and slightly stale, and up close he found himself fascinated by the silver pattern of scales all over her.
He touched her shoulder, and it was as if she was roused suddenly from a deep sleep. Her right arm slashed out, those very dangerous claws barely missing his stomach. Levi was certain that if she’d touched him, his guts would have spilled out on the floor of the tank.
It was then, strangely, that he truly understood that she was not of the land but of the sea. The woman was temporary. The mermaid was who she really was.
After a moment the reflexive defense lowered, her eyes focused, and he knew she saw him. She looked around, bewildered, and Levi wished he dared touch one of the floating tendrils of her hair. He wished he dared take her in his arms and tell her it was all going to be fine.
But he was not of the sea. He didn’t even like the ocean. He was a mundane creature who needed to breathe the air, and so he pointed upward so she would understand his intentions and kicked awkwardly up to the surface, trailing all his wishes behind him and hoping she couldn’t see them there in the water.
Now Barnum gloated over the evening headlines and Amelia sat there, a piece of glass that might shatter at any moment. Levi thought then that he could hate Barnum. Oh yes, he could hate him very easily. The least Barnum could do was notice the feelings of those around him.
Well, what did I expect? Levi thought. He never noticed when Charity was miserable, and he’d never noticed when Joice Heth was, either.
“There won’t be any more performances,” Amelia repeated. “I won’t do it. That woman died. She was knocked to the ground and people stepped on her. The last thing she felt on this earth was boots stomping over her spine and no one stopped, no one paused, no one tried to help her up. They just kept right on rampaging toward me. So I won’t do it, Barnum. I won’t have it happen again. I won’t be the cause of someone’s death.”
“Now, Amelia”—Levi knew Barnum was alarmed if he was calling her by her first name—“there won’t be another incident like that.”
“How can you know?” she said, her tone scathing. “You can’t divine the future, else you’d be charging a nickel for the service.”
The insult rolled right over Barnum, the way most things did. “We’ll take every precaution for audience safety. We didn’t expect the response to be quite so enthusiastic.”
Levi couldn’t let that pass. “Enthusiastic? The crowd turned into a pack of animals. How can you plan for that?”
“We’ll hire guards,” Barnum said. “I can’t have people running at my mermaid like that. It will be an extra expense, but—”
“She’s not your mermaid,” Levi said.
“She’s certainly not your mermaid,” Barnum said with a nasty edge in his voice.
“Barnum. This is not about money,” Levi said. “If you want to talk about expense, let’s talk about the funeral expenses that woman’s family has to pay.”
Barnum’s eyes narrowed. “Actually, I must disagree with you there, Levi. It is about money. This young woman signed a contract with me, a legally binding contract, and I’ve already invested a significant amount based on the promise of that contract. If she leaves now, she’ll owe me for those expenses.”
His eyes gleamed. He thought he had Amelia trapped.
Amelia stood. There was no dramatic flounce, no angry set to her shoulders, and when she spoke, her voice was completely even.
“If I want to leave, you can’t stop me, Barnum. The ocean is vast and you are small, no matter how many buildings have your name on them.”
She left the room. Levi watched her go, paralyzed by uncertainty. Perhaps it would be better for her, for everyone, if she did go.
If she left, then the longing he felt would fade away instead of eating him alive.
Barnum said, “Don’t just sit there gaping like a fish. Go after her.”
“You go after her if you want her so bad,” Levi said. “You’re the one who says she signed a contract and owes you money. That’s nothing to me.”
Barnum gave him a sly smile. “I’m not the one who’s been playing Lancelot ever since the girl arrived.”
“What do you mean by that?” Levi said.
Barnum shrugged. “Only that there’s more than one reason for the girl to stay, and you would likely do a better job of convincing her than I. You did a better job in the first place—convinced her to swim all the way here from the great white north.”
“I didn’t,” Levi said. “She came of her own accord, and she’s leaving of her own free will, too.”
“Still, you wouldn’t like her to disappear into the ocean and never return, would you? How can all your dreams come true then?”
Levi flushed. He truly thought he’d done a better job of disguising his feelings. If Barnum had noticed (especially since Barnum noticed nothing that was not related to dollars and cents), then everyone had, including Amelia.
He burned at the thought that she knew he longed for her and had politely ignored it.
Then he realized he didn’t want her to go. Barnum was right, and Levi hated that Barnum was right. It didn’t matter if Amelia knew how he felt—he couldn’t let her disappear into the ocean forever without at least trying to make her stay.
All of a sudden he was up and out and after her, but not so fast that he didn’t catch Barnum’s self-satisfied smile.
Amelia didn’t bother taking anything. She walked out of the dining room and out of the hallway and out of the front door and into the night wearing only the dress and shoes she’d arrived in.
Barnum did not own her. Barnum could not dictate to her. Barnum could not keep her from diving into the harbor and swimming away, swimming as far as Fiji if she wanted.
No ship could find her if she did not want to be found.
That poor woman. She kept thinking it over and over, kept remembering the horror of finding the bloodied broken thing that used to be a person in one of the side aisles. How had nobody else noticed her? How could they have not seen?
That woman would always be with her now, trailing behind her like a ghost.
Amelia still did not understand all the streets and directions, but if she wandered long enough, she was sure to find the water. It was an island, after all.
And once she found the water, she would leave this horrible place and never return. Why had she stayed? Once she saw the stuffed dead things in the museum she should have known. She’d wanted to leave then but convinced herself it would be all right, that she’d started on a certain course and must see it through.