Three: Peanut Shells

Eager to get started, Barnum insisted they go to the circus immediately. Philip was overwhelmed the moment he stepped inside. There were live animals and people spouting fire from their mouths and he was clearly out of his element. So much activity and they weren't even performing yet. There was no time to take in any of it. He scrambled to keep up.

A shadow loomed over him and he turned to gape at the Irish Giant. Philip stumbled back and almost fell onto General Tom Thumb. He'd known their names and saw their faces in Barnum's relentless advertising but now he was in their presence. Aside from a startled expression from the giant and an annoyed one from the general, they ignored him and continued to prepare for their cue. His head was still spinning Philip had enough sense to tip his hat when he saw the bearded lady. The gesture made her laugh.

He was really going to work with these people. He headed toward the roaring crowd, now excited to see the next act.

And the world stopped, the noise dimmed, and there was only her. She swooped through the air with fearless grace and poise. Her momentum carried her right to him and it seemed like she was reaching out, beckoning. For a brief moment their eyes connected and Philip was struck by the intensity of her gaze. He couldn't move, couldn't think. Then the moment broke and she was swinging away, taking his heart with her.

Philip was still in a daze when Barnum introduced them. She was even more breathtaking now she was still long enough to take her in: the way her hair was swept up, elegant and bold in its unusual color; the way her costume made it look like she had wings.

"And what is your act, Mister Carlyle?" she asked him.

His words came out clumsy and awkward. "I... I don't have an act." Something about this statement amused her.

"Everyone's got an act." The way her eyes flicked over him spoke of a deeper meaning behind her words. Philip watched her until she was out of sight. She didn't walk so much as glide. His attention did not please Anne's brother, and he quickly side-stepped away to catch up with Barnum.

Outside a crowd had formed with signs and torches, yelling at any who walked past. Philip was stunned by their anger. He knew from the start that some disapproved of Barnum's show, but he foolishly believed it was just upper-class snobbery dismissing what they believed was beneath them. This was actual hatred, spewing words like "freak" and "spook".

"How long has this been going on?" he asked Barnum.

"I'd say from our first show. I had to break up a fight once, and since then I've kept everyone inside after shows." Laughter erupted from the audience, a sharp contrast to the angry cries outside; it was almost like this door was a threshold between two worlds. He was starting to truly understand why Barnum wanted him.

"Then I'll stay back too and meet everyone."

Barnum gathered his players together once the audience was gone and everyone was out of their costumes. Introductions were made and Philip shook hands all around, some a bit more wary of him than others. He could still see a soldier's strength in Charles Stratton, the captivating presence of Lettie Lutz, a quiet gentleness from Vasily Pavlov- the Irish Giant. And then there was Anne Wheeler. With her hair now free of the wig, he could see it was pulled into a bun with a few stray ringlets framing her face. She now wore a simple dress with a shawl thrown over her shoulders. Even without her stage makeup, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Philip lingered on her a moment longer than anyone else.

How could anyone look at these incredible people and think freak? "It'll be a pleasure working with all of you," Philip told them.

The others went about gathering their things and setting up for the show tomorrow. Philip walked the space backstage to get a better sense of things and to let his brain catch up with everything that he'd seen so far. He made his way to the ring and smiled to himself, bending down to pick up a discarded peanut shell.

"Be careful," a voice warned. He glanced up and saw Anne on the other side of the ring. She was winding a rope through her fingers. "I'm resetting for tomorrow and I wouldn't want a sand bag to startle you."

"Thank you for the warning." He watched her work for a moment. She worked the rope into a knot and weaved it through a hook, tugging on it to be sure it was secure. Satisfied, she moved on to the next rope. Philip continued his walk around the ring with his head tilted toward her.

"I've been thinking of where I've heard your name before," she mentioned after a moment. "Don't you produce plays?"

"Until tonight. Have you ever been?" Anne froze at the question, giving him a strange look. Slowly her lips quirked up in a smile and she shook her head. "That's all right. I won't take it personally." That got her to laugh and he shot her a grin, his heart fluttering.

The two of them continued their respective work, Philip trying to busy himself so he would have an excuse to linger. He asked for her impressions of the circus and they both agreed Barnum was larger-than-life but impossible not to believe in, even when his ideas seemed crazy. Anne secured the last of her ropes far too soon.

"Will we be seeing you tomorrow, Mister Carlyle?"

"Absolutely. And you can call me Philip, Miss Wheeler."

She paused, considering him for a long moment. Finally: "It's Anne."