Catch Me When I Fall Read online

  “So, what are you going to do?” Nan asked.

  “Help set up the circus like Eddie Glover and Hank Swensen did last summer. That way, I can look around. Meet the circus people and find Filippo the Flying Wonder. If I work hard enough, I can earn a ticket to the Big Show and see him.”

  A shadow fell across the sidewalk. Emma felt a yank on her braid.

  “So, I see you didn’t drown,” Clarence said, his ginger hair a mess of sweaty tangles, his abundant freckles glistening in the hot sun.

  “Didn’t fall either. Walked the whole bridge railing.” Emma lifted her chin, at the same time hiding the book that held the secret photograph behind her and out of Clarence’s view.

  “Yah, I bet.”

  “Just ask Teddy.” Emma suspected Clarence had stayed to watch her, hidden somewhere out of sight. Just didn’t want to admit it.

  “He’d lie for you any day, and you know it. What’s this about the circus, anyway?” Clarence asked.

  “Emma is going to work to earn a ticket,” Nan said. “Like Eddie and Hank did last summer.”

  Emma pressed down hard on Nan’s patent leather shoe with her bare foot.

  “Emma Monroe, a circus roustabout. Ain’t that the funniest thing I ever heard?” Clarence threw his head back and howled.

  Emma felt that urge to let loose the temper Mother said she had to tame. She jabbed Clarence’s ribs with her elbow, and said fiercely, “I am going to get a job at the circus grounds!” She jutted out her chin. “I am.”

  “Yeah? Like heck you are.” Clarence pushed Emma’s shoulder. Lucky, who sat panting in a narrow slice of shade close to the building, barked. “You could never get a job setting up the circus. Girls ain’t allowed. It’s a man’s work.” Clarence grinned, flexing his measly arms. Two poor excuses for muscles sprouted like cherry pits under his baby pink skin. His freckled face beaded up with even more sweat in the noonday sun. While Clarence’s eyes were shut under the strain of his muscular prowess, Emma handed Nan the Nancy Drew book with the photograph.

  “That’s nothing. Look at these!” Emma bent her elbows, clenched her fists, and pumped up two muscles of her own, bigger than Clarence’s, even though he was a boy and fourteen, two whole years older than Emma. But Emma could chin herself twenty times, do backwards flips, climb a flagpole, and walk across the Kinzie Avenue Bridge railing! All sorts of tricks that Clarence could only dream of doing.

  “That’s nothin’,” Clarence said, dismissing her with a flick of his hand. “Takes more than a couple muscles to get a job at the circus.”

  “Like being smart and working hard?” Emma asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Smartest thing I ever heard you say, Clarence Sissy Johnson!”

  Emma grabbed Nan’s hand and ran down the sidewalk, leaving Clarence to consider his new middle name. Tomorrow, she was going to the circus to find the man who might truly be her father…if Clarence didn’t tattle to Mother about her plans and ruin everything before she had the chance.

  Chapter Three

  Lies and Secrets

  Emma!” Mother scolded, as Emma raced into the kitchen, Lucky’s toenails clickety-clicking on the linoleum floor behind her. “You forgot again! Look at that mess!” Mother pointed to the water pooling underneath the icebox. It was Emma’s daily job to empty the pan that held the water from the melting block of ice.

  “Sorry. I’ll clean it up.” Emma lay the yellow roses on the counter, the ones she had carefully selected for Mother from Mrs. Reiner’s garden, and pulled her apron off the hook.

  “What were you so busy doing that you forgot again?” Mother asked, without turning around. She stood at the sink, her wavy auburn hair falling around her slender shoulders, wearing the same faded wash dress she had on yesterday. The ties on her apron dangled limply, as if she couldn’t be bothered to tie a bow.

  Emma ignored Mother’s question. The truth was she had stayed too long at Nan’s drinking lemonade, listening to Mrs. Reiner’s gossip, and snipping the roses for Mother’s bouquet. Someday, she hoped, Mother would have time to sit down and talk with her like Mrs. Reiner did, not just ask prying questions and tell her things to do or not to do.

  Emma grabbed the rag mop and bucket from the closet and began sopping up the water.

  “You didn’t do that basket of Mrs. Olsen’s laundry either.”

  “No. I don’t remember you telling me.” Emma wrung out the mop with her bare hands. The brownish water reminded her of the river, of her balancing act on the Kinzie Avenue Bridge railing. But instead of rotting catfish, the bucket water smelled of spoiled food. What would Mother do if she knew Emma had run around barefoot all day, much less walked across the Kinzie Avenue Bridge railing? At least she had remembered to collect her worn-out shoes from her secret hiding place—the hollow in the tree by the lake—and put them on before she walked in the house. She had also stashed the circus poster and the Nancy Drew book in the tree hollow until she could safely sneak them home.

  “Would you like me to do the laundry now?” Emma asked. She emptied the bucket, then filled a Mason jar with water, arranged the yellow roses in it, and set them on the window ledge. When would Mother notice them?

  “The laundry’s drying on the line,” Mother told her.

  Mrs. Olsen’s laundry was just another chore Emma had forgotten to do. She didn’t mean to. It’s just that, well, more important things always seemed to get in the way of what she was supposed to do.

  “It’s time for supper. Wash your hands and set the table.”

  “It’s Teddy’s turn!”

  “Is not!” Teddy yelled from somewhere.

  “Is too!” Emma shouted.

  “Not!”

  “Stop it, you two. Get those hands washed and set the table, young lady. Right now.”

  Emma winced at the words “young lady.” Did Mother think she could turn her into one just by using the words? Teddy had better remember his promise not to tattle about the river bridge, or she would be in a lot more trouble. But Clarence was right about Teddy. Teddy usually did stick up for her. Not that stinking Clarence, though. He better not go blabbing about the circus or she’d never have the chance to find Filippo the Flying Wonder. The circus would be gone soon after the matinee. Tomorrow was her one and only chance to find out if Filippo was really her father.

  On her way to the bathroom, Emma poked her head into the parlor to see if Granddad was in his favorite chair. He wasn’t. Probably still at Dania where he liked to have his schnapps and cigar.

  The bathroom smelled like pee. Ever since her cousins Clarence and Teddy had moved in— after Aunt Grace died, and Uncle Pete lost his farm and had hopped the rails to find work in California—pee had become a familiar odor, especially on Fridays. It wasn’t until Saturday that Mother did house cleaning at their house. Every other day of the week, except Sunday, she was keeping Dr. Rose’s big house overlooking Lake Michigan clean and free of unpleasant smells—not their house. Emma grabbed the bar of Ivory soap from the sink, working up a frothy lather. Her blisters stung, punishment probably for those tricks she stopped to do on the monkey bars after Nan’s house instead of coming home to help with the laundry. The truth of it was she didn’t remember Mother saying anything about the laundry.

  The dirt under Emma’s stubby fingernails refused to budge. “So what?” she said out loud. Lucky’s tail thump-thumped on the bathroom floor. “Boys always have dirty fingernails,” she told him. “And tomorrow I have to look like one!” Clarence was right about one thing. She knew the circus boss wouldn’t let a girl work.

  Emma stared at her face in the mirror. Freckles cascaded over her nose and spilled onto her red cheeks, now streaked with dirt. Damp curls had escaped from her pigtails and frizzed around her ears. She batted her long, brown eyelashes—her best feature, she had been told—those and her brown eyes that Granddad said were fl
ecked with silver. “Sparks,” Granddad called them. But hard as she looked, Emma could never see those sparks herself. One thing was certain, she wasn’t beautiful, like Mother. Maybe someday. Still, she wasn’t going to end up like Mother, cleaning other people’s toilets and washing their underwear!

  Emma leaned closer to the mirror. Could this face of hers pass for a boy’s? It had to. Tomorrow she would tuck her hair into Granddad’s old brown fedora, wear Clarence’s outgrown boots and overalls. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection. “That’s what you get for trying to pass yourself off for a dumb boy,” she scolded herself in the mirror. But it was her only hope.

  When she walked back into the kitchen, Mother was hovering over the stove, pouring green beans into a pot. Steam rose up, adding more heat to the already hot, sticky kitchen.

  The screen door slammed and in sauntered Clarence carrying a bucket. “Here, Aunt Saffy,” he said, showing her the bucket filled with raspberries, his face beaming like he’d brought her a pot of gold. Seeing that bucket filled with luscious red berries made Emma wish she’d been the one who had spotted the raspberry bushes.

  Mother smiled at Clarence. “Thank you. They look delicious. Set the bucket in the sink for now.”

  Emma glanced at the bouquet on the window ledge. “Mother, do you like the roses? They’re your favorite color.”

  “They’re lovely,” Mother said. “Where did they come from?”

  “Mrs. Reiner’s rose garden.” The roses didn’t look as happy as they did in Mrs. Reiner’s garden. Emma probably shouldn’t have stopped at the monkey bars and left them without water for so long.

  Clarence set the bucket of raspberries in the sink while Emma pulled open the silverware drawer. “Don’t you dare say anything about the bridge or the circus,” Emma whispered to him.

  Lucky lapped noisily at his water bowl, his long tail swishing against her bare leg.

  “I’ll have to remember to thank Mrs. Reiner,” Mother said.

  Emma plunked a knife and fork at Mother’s place on the table. What about me? Emma wanted to yell. The bouquet was my idea.

  “Go wash for dinner, Clarence.”

  As Clarence passed Emma, he bumped her with his bony shoulder. “You owe me!”

  “PU!” Emma pinched her nose shut. Clarence smelled of body odor like always. Maybe for Christmas she would give him a bar of Lifebuoy soap. He gave her his I’m-so-much-better-than-you smirk and shook his head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You know,” he whispered all snarly.

  Emma glared at Clarence.

  “Teddy!” Mother called. “Have you washed?”

  “Are we eating without Granddad?” Emma asked.

  “I think he’s helping out at Dania tonight,” Mother told her.

  When they sat down at the table, their hands washed, Mother said grace. Emma couldn’t wait to bite into her juicy hamburger. She was famished.

  As soon as they chimed in with “Amen,” Emma picked up her hamburger, bit down, and began to chew. Something didn’t taste right. She knew right away this wasn’t a hamburger.

  “Aunt Saffy,” Teddy said, lifting the top bun and stabbing the lettuce and pickle with his fork. “There ain’t no meat! Only pickles and lettuce!”

  “Hooverburgers again,” Emma grumbled.

  “It was either hamburger or milk,” Mother said. “You’ll have milk with your oatmeal tomorrow. Be thankful for that.”

  “And raspberries,” said Clarence, who looked at his empty plate like he was about to cry. Already he’d devoured his Hooverburger and most of his green beans and potato salad. Besides having BO, Clarence was always hungry and still skinny as a flagpole.

  Emma’s gaze drifted to the yellow roses and then out the kitchen window to the laundry on the line—brassieres, skivvies, and what-have-you’s—none of it theirs. She hated the thought of Mother washing other folks’ underwear. She should help her more, but she hated the thought of other folks’ undies worse. She despised the smell of bleach and how it stung her eyes. She guessed she was a bad person to have these thoughts, to spend time fooling around instead of helping Mother. If Mother had a husband like Nan’s mother did, would she have to take in laundry? Emma’s thoughts drifted to Filippo the Flying Wonder. Her stomach fluttered with the possibility that this man might be her very own father, a famous circus performer! Was he? And if he was, why didn’t he live with them—and why did Mother keep him a deep dark secret? Would she find out tomorrow?

  Mother got up and switched on the radio. They ate in silence listening to Kate Smith warble, until the WGN announcer reminded listeners about Hackenstack’s Most Spectacular Show on Earth tomorrow. Emma’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Can we go, Aunt Saffy? Please? Can we? Can we?” Teddy begged.

  Mother didn’t answer. But she didn’t have to. Her look said everything.

  Teddy’s eyes filled with tears.

  Emma’s heart did break a little for poor Teddy.

  The back door creaked open and Granddad strolled in bringing the familiar smell of cigar smoke with him. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking off his straw bowler hat and hanging it on the hat rack. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I ran into Dr. Rose making a call at the Stovers.”

  “Everything all right?” Mother asked.

  “Oh, fine. Little Nellie just stuck a few peas in her ear again. I swear. I think that child must mistake her ear for her mouth.”

  “She probably doesn’t want to eat her peas and is hiding them in her ear!” Teddy called.

  “Now there’s a thought,” Granddad said, sitting down at his place at the end of the table. “Someone ought to pass that insight along to Mrs. Stover.”

  Mother got up to fix Granddad’s plate. Granddad was a tall man, but sitting in the kitchen chair you wouldn’t know it. He had a long nose and wore glasses that were often smudged. But his eyes were a deep blue like the water in the quarry, and he smiled a lot, which made his eyes twinkle.

  “We’re having Hooverburgers,” Teddy told him.

  “My favorite,” Granddad said, winking at Emma, his eyes sparkling behind his smudged glasses.

  “They ain’t got meat,” Teddy said.

  “They don’t have meat,” Mother corrected, big on grammar and proper language since she had started working for Dr. Rose. Emma thought again about what Nan had said earlier that day—Mother kissing Dr. Rose—and felt herself blushing.

  Granddad looked over at Emma and smiled. Could he read her thoughts? She sometimes thought he could. “Hamburger is a luxury these days,” Granddad said. “We must be grateful for what we have. As long as I have a cigar, I can do without meat, thank you.”

  Granddad smiled at Emma as Mother handed him a plate with a Hooverburger, a few green beans and a dollop of potato salad, probably the last of it.

  Clarence glanced all droopy-faced at Granddad’s plate. Emma knew as well as Clarence—no chance of second helpings.

  “Did Aunt Saffy tell you children about Dr. Rose’s Fourth of July party tomorrow?” Granddad asked. “We’re all invited.”

  “Whoopee!” Teddy shouted. “Will there be fireworks?”

  “Is it Fourth of July?” Granddad said, raising his fork like the Statue of Liberty torch.

  “And food?” Clarence asked.

  “Yes. Plenty,” Mother said. “I placed the order at Brosky’s yesterday.”

  “What time’s the party?” Emma asked, squirming in her chair.

  “Five o’clock,” Mother answered.

  Relief rippled through Emma. That would give her plenty of time to see the circus matinee, find Filippo the Flying Wonder, and get to the party before Mother suspected anything!

  “Can we go to the circus matinee first, Aunt Saffy? Please?” Teddy asked again.

  Mother and Granddad exchanged gla
nces—glances that meant they knew something she and her cousins didn’t. The color seemed to drain from Mother’s face.

  “Mother, what’s the matter?” Emma asked.

  “Nothing. I just…”

  “Maybe you should try Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound,” Emma suggested.

  Granddad snickered, spearing string beans on his fork.

  “What?” Mother said.

  “That’s what Mrs. Reiner takes. She’s always so lively and cheerful.”

  “I’d be more lively and cheerful if you spent less time playing and more time helping with chores,” Mother said.

  Emma stared down at her plate, embarrassed to be scolded in front of everyone. Her feet felt burning hot inside her too-small shoes. A weight like a stone seemed to settle on her heart.

  “You know, Sapphira, I think the children should do their fair share of chores,” Granddad said. “But they need to exercise their imaginations as well as their muscles. Emma, if you helped your mother more, perhaps she could take more time to play. Heaven knows she used to be the Queen of Play when she was your age, having no mother to supervise her. And I was too busy with work to pay much attention.”

  At Granddad’s words, some of the heaviness lifted from Emma’s heart. She decided now was the time to ask, before she lost her nerve, while Granddad was there to maybe take her side. She crossed her fingers behind her back. “Can I go early to the Reiners’ tomorrow so Nan and me can help Mr. Reiner on his milk route?”

  “Nan and I,” Mother corrected.

  “So, can I?”

  “May I.”

  “So, may I?”

  Clarence squinted his eyes at Emma—You little liar, they seemed to say.

  “Well, I suppose,” Mother said. “If you help fold and sort the laundry before you go to bed.”

  “Of course, Mother. Sorry, I forgot.”