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Chapter 23 – Cirque de mousie

The one day with refreshing rain turned out to be just that: One day. Later that morning, when Brutus had the yard watch with Paul, the sweltering heat seemed to be rising from the sand.

"So," Paul asked him and leaned up against the cooler outside wall of E-block, while they were waiting for Delacroix so finish his hour under the sky, "are you getting nervous?"

"About what?" Brutus asked absently; behind the fence, two prisoners had just jumped on each other and was now kicking and screaming like a couple of furious tomcats.

Paul eyed him. "Friday? Your date with Ellie?"

Brutus smiled involuntarily before he could stop himself and Paul snorted.

"I knew it," he said, possibly taking Brutus' grin as a sign of his anxiety.

"I ain't nervous," Brutus said unfazed.

Paul gave him a smug look. "So that face you pulled off yesterday, when I secured you a date with her, that was the look of iron strong confident? Come on…"

Brutus smiled wryly and for a moment, his pride nearly persuaded him to tell Paul the truth. Hell, he wanted to tell everyone, now he was at it: He wanted every guard and inmate in this God forsaken place to know that he had woken up next to a woman that made his heart flutter. He especially wanted to see the look on Pauls face, when he told him, that the last two nights has been his own profit. After all, he had been capable of letting Ellie know exactly how he felt, without anyone's interfering.

But he didn't: Ellie deserved something more romantic than a spontaneous rendezvous in an old shed. He wanted to do it by the book from now on – even if it meant that Paul would claim credit for it.

"Well, your plan kinda took me off guard," Brutus admitted.

"I had to do something," Paul said. "She would have been too polite to turn Barry down and you were just standing there, like a dead mule." He paused for a moment. "What'd she say?"

"She thought it was kinda cute, that my superior arranged dates for his co-workers," Brutus responded. "But she didn't say definitive yes, before I'd asked her properly."

Paul batted his arm with a sly smile and Brutus chuckled.

"I told'ya she would."

"I know."

"Guess you've learned to trust your friends now, huh?"

Brutus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah…"

They watched Delacroix' stunted figure wander along the fence with slow steps. He looked calm for a man who only had 38 hours left of his life, but Brutus knew, that most of convicted men wouldn't understand the gravity of the situation before they were actually faced with Ol' Sparky. He preferred it this way: It was easier to cope with a few minutes of uncontrolled panic, than days of heartbreaking terror and sobbing.

"Everything's ready for the rehearsal tonight?" Brutus asked Paul in a low voice, when Delacroix stopped in his tracks to look at the men from B-block who was working again, now the fight had been disarmed.

"Yeah." Paul went silent for a moment. "I wan' you to take him to the administration building, if that's all right."

"Sure."

"But whatever you do, don't tell him it's Percy who's in charge. I'm not sure he's gonna take that very well."

Brutus said nothing; to him, the whole idea about Percy being up front was sinister and sickening. Everyone knew that Percy had hated Delacroix, the moment the tiny Frenchman had set foot on the Mile; hated him so much, it would be pure pleasure for him to pull the switch on Delacroix.

oOo

Inside the block Ellie was sitting cross-legged on Alice's bunk, fanning herself with the playing cards in her hand. The rain the day before had made the humidity unbearable and the back of her uniform dress felt sticky and warm against the bars.

They were playing cribbage with open cards, carefully supervised by Harry – or Alice was playing with heart and soul and Ellie had no idea, what she was doing. She wasn't much of a card player; on a good day she could remember the rules for Go Fish and at first glance this game was more complicated than brain surgery.

"Dear girl," Alice said, leaning over the board to look at her hand, "you had a flush right there."

"A what?" Ellie looked helplessly at the card fan. "When did we shift to poker?"

Alice sighed indulgently.

"I'm only twelve points from beating you."

"Oh, no…" Ellie muttered, silently praying that it meant they could play something else. As expected, she was pulverized at the end of the game. Alice gathered the cards, so she could shuffle them before the next round. Her hands moved with a cardsharps agility; steady and adeptly. Ellie watched her in silence, until she heard the office door open with a soft click.

She had been hoping to see Brutus walk through the doorway, but it was only Paul with a message to Harry, who had the front desk duty this morning. Ellie turned her head again, finding her disappointment to be a bit silly. All her life she had resignedly rolled her eyes at those girls who couldn't be without their sweethearts for an hour and now she had turned into one of those girls herself.

How pathetic you have become, she thought with a slight smile. A pathetic fool in love…

Paul left the desk and strolled closer. He looked as hot, as Ellie felt; fine pearls of sweet shimmering on his forehead.

"How're you girls hangin'?" He asked them, as he leaned against the open cell door and tugged out a handkerchief from his back pockets. "Can you stand the heat?"

"Barely." Ellie smiled at him. "But I think you guys have it worse, so we shouldn't be complaining. How is Delacroix?"

Paul tilted his head in a light gesture that could mean anything.

"He takes it well so far," he responded, wiping his face. "I think he's more worried about what'll happen to Mr. Jingles, when it's over."

"What will happen to the mouse?" Alice asked and her voice carried a slight worried tone, that Ellie too – and probably most of the people of E-block – was far to acquainted with. There weren't a lot of bright moments on the Mile, so Mr. Jingles' cute tricks had stolen the hearts of everyone (except perhaps Percy and William Wharton, but that didn't quite surprise anyone).

Paul raised his uniformed shoulders in a shrug. "I honestly don't know. I guess we could just keep him here. I mean, how long do mice actually live?"

No one really had an answer for that, so Paul just shrugged again.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow morning," he said softly. "Perhaps he has his own solution."

Watching him leave, Ellie suddenly remembered, that she still haven't talked to Alice about the execution tomorrow. She leaned forward just as Alice was about the hand out the cards.

"Alice," she said quietly. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Alice looked up from her card deck and frowned by the look of Ellie's grave expression.

"Let me guess," she responded calmly and her words were followed by a quick glare at Delacroix' empty cell. "It's about the execution, isn't it?"

Ellie nodded, not even surprised that Alice once again seemed to be reading her mind.

"I talked to Paul a couple of days ago," she said. "We were both worried about your seizure after Bitterbucks execution and we don't want it, to happen again. So if you want to, you can stay in the infirmary tomorrow night. With me, of course."

"Are you afraid I'm going to have another seizure?"

"Yes," Ellie responded soberly.

Alice looked at her. "There's no need for that," she said softly. "If I get another one, I'll get another one. It hasn't killed me before."

"I know," Ellie said quietly. "But I would hate to see you go through another one, if there's anything we can do to prevent it."

Alice gave her another long look. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to say something. Ellie was hoping, she would finally open up to whatever was bothering her, because she knew that something hadn't settled in Alice after the execution of Bitterbuck. She just didn't know exactly what it was and it had started to get on her nerves. But in the end, Alice just nodded.

"Very well," she said and began laying out the cards again. "If that what you two want me to do, I'll do it. I guess it won't hurt anyone…"

"Thank you," Ellie said, even though she knew Alice only agreed so she could be left alone.

oOo

Sometime around noon there was a quiet period at E-block. All the inmates had had their time in the yard and Brutus had left the block with almost every one of the guards to help with the last preparations in the new infirmary. Ellie was in the office, giving a much needed hand to Paul, who had fallen far behind with the paperwork after all the commotion with Wharton.

Ellie had rarely in her life seen so many formulas; it was almost as bad as a suspicious death at the hospital. The guards had to note everything: What the prisoners ate, what time and how long they were outside, who came to visit and even when they took them to the bathroom. There were sheets after sheets concerning the men's penalty and official papers from the state. Then there were whole books for suspicious behaviour and how the watch had went, so the next shift knew what to be aware of. And everything had to be sorted alphabetically and by date, before being place neatly in cardboard files on the shelf.

"What a mess," she said compassionate, when Paul slumped down in his chair with another thick pile of paper, he had found on the front desk.

Paul sighed. "And most of it is a complete waste, 'cause no one will ever read it, except us."

"Isn't it the case with all kinds of paperwork?" Ellie noticed with a smirk, as she flickered through the newest watch-book. She stopped at a page with Brutus' handwriting and found herself smiling over his adorably clumsy letters, before actually reading what he had written. He had noted something about John Coffey: Laid awake, crying quietly all night. No responds, when we talk to him. He just looks straight through us, like he's not even here…

She looked up at Paul, who had mired into deep concentration regarding his part of the paperwork. None of them had mentioned the strange episode with Coffey since the phone call the day after and she wasn't sure, he even wanted to talk about it. Perhaps he tried to forget all about it; pretend it had never happen. Ellie couldn't blame him: The incident was strange enough as it was, but Coffey too, was in a class apart.

He never made a fuss. He never asked for anything, he rarely spoke and every time Ellie saw him, his dark cheeks were wet with silent tears – and she had a weird feeling that he, unlike so many of the other inmates, didn't cried for himself. Sometimes, she could still hear his strange respond: I'm sorry I can't take away your guilt…

She still had no clue of how he could possibly have know about her shame regarding Alice and the job, she had undertaken. But lately she had become more interested in why: Why was he sorry? He had murdered two little girls, so why would he be concerned about someone's feelings?

The jarring sound of a chair being pushed back shook her out of her thoughts.

"I'll be right back," Paul said quickly. "Just need to go water the horses."

Ellie smiled forbearing. "I know you guys think something dreadful will happen, if I'm left alone for too long, but I promise you, I will be fine. You don't have to rush."

Paul scoffed. "All right, but remember: Don't talk to strangers, until I get back."

With Paul gone, Ellie got to her feet and seized the opportunity to have the desk all by herself as she spread the files across the worktop to get a better view. Blimey, how the guards could keep them in order, she still couldn't get her head around. In the end, she went with a scantily system and placed the paper in smaller piles, she would have to sort later, but at least it worked.

She was already halfway through yesterday's papers, when she heard the lock of what she assumed was the toilet door being opened and then foot steps approaching.

Expecting it to be Paul returning from the bathroom, Ellie didn't turn around. So she had quite a scare, when the person suddenly stepped up behind her and kissed her just above the neckline of her collar.

She would have yelped in surprise, if it wasn't because her heart had jumped right up in her throat, a result of a very vivid image of an escaped prisoner created by her imagination. So she felt more than a little foolish, when she spun around to find Brutus standing right behind her, his mouth and blue eyes smiling down at her.

"Oh, my goodness, you scared me…" Ellie exclaimed with a breathless laughter and clung to her files. "I thought you knew better than to sneak up on someone in a place like this."

"Sorry," Brutus said in his soft-spoken voice. "But to come in 'ere and find you all'lone, how could I resist it?" He looked around, as though his own words had suddenly occurred to him and frowned. "Why are you here alone? Where's Paul?"

A toilet flushing answered his questions before Ellie could do so.

She smiled, when his concern was replaced with obvious relief. "You are such a mother hen."

"When it comes to you, yes," Brutus responded softly and bent down to kiss her, properly this time; his lips gently caressing over hers and his arms folding around her. Wrapped against his firm chest, Ellie felt herself go weak in his embrace. It was a feeling she desperately wished would never disappear, no matter how many times he kissed her. It felt too good…

They didn't break apart until they heard the sound of the toilet lock snap open. With a little smile, Brutus gave her one last soft kiss, before moving back to the door, so it looked like he had just stepped into the office.

Paul stopped dead in the doorway, looking momentarily surprised to see Brutus in the office.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm glad to see you too, Paul," Brutus growled and dug out his pocket watch. The sight alone seemed to put Paul back on track.

"Right, Del…" he muttered and closed the door. "Is everything ready?"

"Yup," Brutus said. "Bill's waiting in the administration building as we speak. He told me, to say to you that he'll have the audience ready in about ten minutes. So we better get moving."

oOo

Delacroix was resting in his cell, stretched out on his bunk when the guards approached the bars. The mouse star itself was eating leftovers from lunch on his chest. Delacroix looked up, when he heard the keys rattle.

"Del, grab up your things," Paul said, sliding the cell door open. "It's a big day for you and Mr. Jingles."

Delacroix gently grabbed hold on the tiny mouse, cupped it in his palm like a precious gem, and sat up, looking at them with a mixture of surprise and cautious scepticism. "Whatchoo talkin' about?"

"Important folks heard 'bout your mouse," Brutus said, as he and Paul reeled off the little speech they had been practicing on the entire morning. "Wanna see him perform."

"And it's not just prison guards," Paul joined in. "One of them's a politician all the way from the state capital, I believe."

He wasn't of course. The 'politician' was a plumber, they had hijacked this morning, but Delacroix didn't have to know that. He looked at them, wide-eyed like a little boy. "Why's dat?"

"'Cause Mr. Jingles reputation has spread far 'n wide," Brutus said, throwing his shirt at him. "You should be proud, now get your cloth on."

Moments later Delacroix was all dressed and ready to go. Every trace of doubt was gone; instead he looked like he was on his way to dine with the President, his skinny chest puffed out and his head held high. Mr. Jingles was balancing on his shoulder.

"You fellas comin'," he asked, looking from Paul and Brutus, to Harry who had turned up from his infirmary duty to help with the paperwork.

"Naw, we got other fish to fry right now, Del," Harry said kindly, giving the Frenchman an encouraging smile. "But you knock 'em for a loop, yeah?"

"Yeah, you knock 'em for a loop," a new voice blended in, deep and soft and they all turned around to see John Coffey standing at the bars of his cell. It was the first time he didn't look like he was about to cry, it dawned on Brutus. "Just like Mr. Harry says."

Delacroix was literally shining now, visibly growing several inches of pure pride.

"How 'bout you, mad'mouselle Brent," he said expectantly to Ellie, who was standing quiet by the desk. "You wonna come?"

Ellie looked to Paul, to get his approval and when he shrugged in a way, that told her it was her own decision, she turned back to Delacroix with a gentle smile.

"I would love that, Del."

Delacroix beamed.

"A'right, lets go then," Brutus said, leading Delacroix out of the block with a big hand on his shoulder. "Before your audience loses patience."

oOo

Bill Dodge had been busy; when Brutus conducted Delacroix to the briefing room in the administration building, fifteen-odd people looked up at Delacroix from the wooden chairs they had been seated on. Except for a few, Brutus recognized all of them: Some where secretaries and young medics, but most of them were guards from Cold Mountains other blocks. On the front row was the hijacked plumber, all dress up like he had been snatched on his way to church.

No one paid any noticeable attention to either Brutus or Ellie, so the news about their date probably hadn't spread around the prison yet. Brutus found himself to be more disappointed than relieved about that…

Delacroix hesitated in the doorway by the sight of the audience and Brutus moved him forward with a hand on his back.

"Relax," he muttered. "They're here to see Mr. Jingles, not you."

Delacroix nodded and drew himself up to regain his courage. Brutus handed him Mr. Jingles and the wooden box and joined Ellie by the side wall, so he could intervene if anything happened.

"Ready, when you are, Del," Bill said jovially and then he nudged the well dressed plumber in the ribs and mumbled: "This is good, I tell ya."

The plumber was just gaping at Mr. Jingles in Delacroix' palm and the wooden spool and Brutus didn't quite blame him; he probably thought that someone was pulling his leg.

Delacroix cleared his throat nervously and began:

"Messieurs et Mesdames. Bienvenue au cirque de mousie!"

Mr. Jingles took no notice of the audience; he fetched the spool like he had done it since the first time and it seemed to stabilize Delacroix' nerves. Soon he let Mr. Jingles run between the legs of the chairs, announcing his tricks in a grand voice and the audience was enchanted.

"He looks so proud," Ellie whispered to Brutus, when Delacroix took the spool from Mr. Jingles with an obvious beam. "Like a father to a genius son."

"Take a look at the audience, then," Brutus mumbled back. "He has knocked 'em of their feet. The women have even forgotten how to scream."

Ellie scoffed with suppressed laughter and leaned against him, so her shoulder touched his upper arm and even through several layers of clothing Brutus could feel her warmth so clear, as if they had been skin to skin. His entire body started itching to be even closer to her; to gather her against his chest and he had to remind himself, that there were a handful of people in the room and not just the two of them.

"It's killing me, that I can't see you tonight," he thought out loud, in a whisper only she could hear.

"Me too," she responded softly.

"Right now Friday night seems to be years away," he mumbled and she smiled up at him, that smile that made his heart loop. Then she reached for his hand and squeezed it affectionately, while everyone was busy clapping at Delacroix and his magnificent mouse.