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The September Sunday was ending in a splash of afternoon sunshine as Sally and I sat side by side on the grassy bank, cooling our feet in the creek.

I'd seen her talking with Jed Saunders after services this morning. I'd seen her do more than talk with Jed, too. They'd been kissing in the barn after the square-dance party on Saturday night. At fourteen, my little sister was growing up.

"Sally," I began. There were some things I wanted… needed to talk about, things I couldn't imagine discussing with Papa or Mama or even our big brother, Chris. I'd shared more of what I felt inside with Sally than I'd ever told another human being, and she confided in me too. "You and Jed…." I didn't know how to go on, so I ended with, "Do you love him?"

She was quiet a long time before she answered, her eyes following a butterfly above our heads. "I reckon I do, Lucas. He makes me feel good, in ways no one else ever has."

I thought I knew what she meant, though I was sure she hadn't experimented with many others. I nodded.

"Sally…." I swallowed. "Do you ever want to…?" We were farm kids, and nature's ways were no mystery to us. Still, it was amazingly hard to talk about when it was personal.

Sally looked up at me and smiled, knowing just what I meant. "Sometimes it's all I can think about-having him hold me and kiss me and… you know." She looked away downstream, a blush creeping up from the collar of her dress. I knew, and I felt my face grow hot too.

Then Sally put a small hand on my arm. "Lucas, is that how it is for you, with… him?"

* * *

I loved carnivals, had as far back as I could remember. I suppose in that I wasn't much different from other rural youngsters. In only the second decade of the twentieth century, traveling carnivals were a major source of entertainment.

At least one traveling show seemed to make its way to our town every year, rarely the same one two years in a row. That year, two years ago now, we were all excited to hear that a new carnival was coming our way, one we hadn't seen, though I imagined the show would be much the same as those that had come before.

But I was wrong.

* * *

It was my turn to look away. I truly had no secrets from my little sister-my best friend. I nodded slowly, a lump in my throat, oblivious to the beetle crawling over my bare toes at the water's edge.

* * *

The man's creamy-white top hat matched his stylish swallowtail suit coat. His hair and thick curly mustache shone like gold in the noonday sun. I'd never seen anyone quite like him, standing high on the little platform in the center ring while camels and wild ponies marched in parade.

I was a boy, and he was a man, and in all my years I'd never seen anyone quite like him. My father stood tall and proud, but this man was a giant, a hero from a storybook, larger than life. His smile made me shiver, especially when it turned toward me.

* * *

Sally lay back, hands behind her head, careless of Mama's scolding about grass stains on calico. "They say it hurts a girl, first time round-sometimes even makes her bleed a little." She closed her eyes, and I watched the sun dapple her pretty rosy face.

She opened her eyes and looked at me. "Do you suppose that's true?"

* * *

I'd known I was different for a long time, but I'd pushed it down, tried to deny feelings that didn't seem to be the same as those of the boys and men around me. But seeing him crystallized it all, made what I was inside feel real and possible for the very first time. No matter what anyone else might think, I was in love with a man, and his name was Thomas Caldwell.

* * *

I didn't know what to think about what Sally asked and told her so. "Have you asked Mama?"

She shook her head. "I'd be mortified. I did ask Aunt Jennie once, up to the Post Office."

Aunt Jennie was not our aunt or any relation at all, but only a kindly woman we'd known for most of our lives. As Postmistress, she was an important part of the community. The adults thought her a touch wicked because she'd had three husbands-one at a time, of course. We kids thought it rather exciting. I also thought she might have given advice to many a young girl.

"What did she say?" I wondered. Sally closed her eyes again.

"She said not to worry my pretty head about it, that such things just came naturally to a man and a woman. She smiled when she said it." Sally smiled too, her lips a gentle pink curve.

I sat back, wishing there was someone I could ask about my own concerns. I finally had to say it aloud: "Sally-do you suppose it hurts a man, that first time?"

* * *

I'd worked at the carnival that first year, doing anything the roustabouts would let me do, from raking sawdust on the midway to mucking out animal cages. Anything for a chance to be near him. Lots of boys worked to earn free passes, and I took those too, for a chance to sit in the main tent each night and watch him. Sometimes I thought he noticed me, but I couldn't be sure. Maybe he smiled like that at everyone. Then one hot day I looked around and he was there with a glass of lemonade in his hand.

"Haven't I seen you in the front row at every show, boy? All the work you've been doing, you'd best have a cold drink at least for your trouble. Heaven knows you must have as many free passes as you can use by now."

I was thrilled… and terrified. We sat together in the shade, him asking a casual question now and then and me answering when I could get my tongue untied. I grinned the whole time. At least until he asked, "How old are you, boy?"

* * *

Sally tilted her head at me. "No reason it should hurt. A man's not built like a woman inside, nothing there to break."

I nodded. I figured the same way, not that a little pain would matter to me.

* * *

I was big for my age, and I knew I looked older. But I couldn't lie. "Fourteen, sir."

He nodded, then smiled-sadly, I thought. "Of course you are. Well, good work." He got up and left me then, and, no matter what else I did or said, that was all that passed between us that first year. But he must have known….

* * *

"Sally, has Jed asked you to marry him yet?" I asked.

"No. He told me he wants to, though. I think he's waiting until he pays off the note on that land he's working. It will be his then, and we can build a house and make a home together." She sighed. "I wish he'd hurry, though."

I squeezed her shoulder. I thought I knew just how she felt.

* * *

Though the show moved on after two weeks, I had time to make friends with some of the other carnies. Miss Hattie, the fortune teller, was always kind. It was she who told me the story about Thomas's father, a Baptist minister who had disowned his eldest son for what he called "unnatural tendencies." I didn't know what that meant for sure, but her nod answered the question in my eyes.

* * *

Sally sat up next to me, back against the same tree trunk, tucking her wet feet under her skirts. "Every time Jed kisses me I want more. I feel just like a mare in season sometimes, shameful as that might sound."

I shook my head. "Doesn't sound shameful to me. God made us the way we are. How can there be any shame in it?"

* * *

I didn't know why Miss Hattie told me. Perhaps she knew I had always felt alone and only dared to hope there were others like me. Would Papa or Mama hate me if they knew? I was sure that, whatever a preacher might say, the Bible never told parents to stop loving their children.

* * *

Sally rested her head against my shoulder. "I think I'd go ahead with Jed, if it weren't for the chance of getting with child. I know Mama and Papa would think it a shame for a girl to be big at her wedding."

I nodded, agreeing, though it had been known to happen, even in our little town.

"But, Lucas, you can't get pregnant. Why haven't you…?"

* * *

I'd asked Miss Hattie to write to me after the carnival left, and she had been as good as her promise. Her letters were interesting, all about the places they'd traveled and the things she'd seen, but the best news was always of Thomas.

It seemed to take forever for the year to pass, but finally Miss Hattie wrote that the carnival was coming our way again.

* * *

I turned my head, the heat of frustration pooling behind my eyes and wanting to spill over in tears. It made my words sharper than I intended. "Because he won't touch me, Sally! I've asked him, and he won't!" I took a deep breath. "Not until Papa says I can leave with him-and that's not until I'm seventeen."

* * *

The second year of the carnival was much like the first… in the beginning. I knew then, from Miss Hattie, that Thomas was more than thirty years old, twice my age, but that didn't matter to me at all. I just knew I wanted him.

I lived every spare moment at the carnival grounds, even skipping school when I thought I could get away with it, though I'd never done anything like that before. That was the year Papa came to the carnival.

Thomas and I had been talking, now and then. I knew which one was his trailer, but he never took me there. We'd sit at a wooden table on the midway, surrounded by hustling carnies and laughing townspeople, and I'd ask Thomas about traveling with Caldwell's Wonders.

He asked me things too, like did I want to be a farmer like Papa, and if not, then what? My interest was no secret to him or to anyone, I suppose, and I didn't even notice Papa until he walked right up to Thomas and stuck out his hand. "Mister Caldwell, I'm John Black, and young Lucas, here, is my son."

Papa looked as he always did, tall and clean shaven, his hair under his straw hat as black as mine. It only took one sharp glance from him to send me scuttling back to school. Papa never mentioned what he and Thomas Caldwell talked about, but I was sure I knew.

* * *

Now it was the third year. My seventeenth birthday was less than six months away, but it would be that much more time again before Thomas and his carnival returned to our town. A year! A whole year! How could I stand it until then? At least Sally's Jed lived only two farms over. They might see each other every week-more often if they wanted. Thomas had promised me he'd write, but how could that make up for him being so far away?

Sally put a slim arm round my back and pulled my head to her breast. "I'm sorry, Lucas. But I know Mr. Caldwell loves you. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you."

I couldn't believe I'd been brave enough to ask Papa about going with Thomas. Papa had sat silent for so long afterward that I thought he would never answer me, but finally he said that Mr. Caldwell had spoken to him about me and that if I still felt the same way next year, then I would be old enough to decide for myself and Papa would be satisfied.

Mama didn't say much, but I know she worried. A life with the circus was not what she had seen in my future. If I wouldn't stay with the farm or find work in town, then she had always hoped I would become a singer, perhaps on the vaudeville stage, even though she asked me never to tell Papa she'd suggested it. Sure, I enjoyed singing with the church choir, but if a possible future didn't include Thomas, then I wasn't interested.

I blinked hard. Sally pushed me back, regarding me seriously. "Papa and Mama love us too and want what's best for us-both of us. That's why they want us to wait."

I sniffed. I knew that, but it didn't make things any easier. "You really think he loves me, Sally?" My biggest fear was that he'd go away this time and never come back-that he'd find someone else to love him before I even got the chance. He was so handsome, so wonderful, that anyone, man or woman, would want him.

Sally slapped my shoulder and jumped to her feet. "I said so, didn't I? C'mon Lucas, we'll be late for supper." She laughed, and before I knew it she was running toward the farmhouse.

I had to smile as I got up to follow. What would I do without my sister?

* * *

As usual, we all went to bed very soon after chores were finished, but I couldn't sleep. I tried not to toss and turn, listening to the slow breathing of my younger brother beside me. He didn't stir when I put on my clothes and climbed carefully out the window.

The show would be leaving at dawn. Everything was torn down and packed away, and the only lights in the moonless night came from the windows of the caravans. Stealthily, I made my way toward Thomas's wagon. Standing at the step below the door, I held my breath and knocked.

The sudden light from a lantern dazzled my eyes, but I recognized the figure I knew so well. I swallowed hard. "It's me, sir," I said.

The man hesitated, then stepped back to let me climb into the wagon. There was scarcely room for me to pass by him, but I shrank back, almost afraid to touch him. The door closed firmly behind me.

"You shouldn't be here, boy," said the deep voice. He had not yet readied himself for bed. His satin waistcoat was still buttoned over his shirt and tie and the chain of his gold watch glinted.

I stood, silent, as he resumed his seat on the bench at the little table, where a cigar was smoldering in its tray. The heavy fragrance pervaded the space, but I could still detect the scent of the sandalwood shaving soap he used, specially imported from India.

Finally, he sighed and gestured for me to sit on the opposite bench.

"Your father would tan your jacket if he suspected you were here."

He caught and held my eyes, but I couldn't speak. He was so beautiful, his dark blond hair highlighted by the lamplight into molten gold.

"He'd thrash me as well, I imagine," he added. "And I would deserve it, for the thoughts now going through my head." He smiled then, his full lower lip moist and pink, the upper lip shaded by his thick mustache.

His blue eyes twinkled and I caught my breath. "Papa doesn't know, sir."

He grunted, looked away, and picked up a squat glass half filled with a sharp-smelling amber liquid. "Fathers always know, boy." His gaze hardened for a moment, then he took a long swallow from the glass. I felt a burst of sorrow for Thomas, who was not blessed with a father such as I had. Boldly, I covered Thomas's free hand with my own.

His eyes came back to mine in an instant and he shook his head. "Not tonight, boy. I'm too tired to fight you, and this is not my first glass of whiskey." But he didn't pull away. I knew there was a bed behind the curtain at my back, and that thought almost stopped my breath. His hand was warm and slightly moist in mine. I couldn't look away from him.

Across the field, a caged lion's roar echoed, and it seemed to break the spell. Thomas smiled again, grasped my hand in his for a moment, and then let it go. "What do you want from me, boy?" he said.

"I-I… you're going away again."

He nodded. "Back again next year, like always." He drank.

I steeled myself. "Then you will come back? And next time, you'll… you'll take me with you?"

He studied me. "You sure you still want that, Lucas?"

I shivered. He almost never used my Christian name. "Yes, sir. I want to go with you, be with you, I… I love you," I blurted. I'd never said that to anyone but my family before, and the words meant so much more when I said them now that I felt there should be better words, a stronger way to describe the feelings I had for him.

He put down the glass and blinked at me, picked up his small oval spectacles and put them on. The glasses made his eyes seem even larger.

"Wanted to make sure I was seeing clearly," he said, trying for a smile, but he pressed his lips together instead. "That's a serious thing to say, boy."

"I… I mean it… Thomas." My heart seemed to beat in my throat.

He nodded. "I guess I've known how you felt for a long while now." He managed a small smile. "And, fool that I am, I feel the same."

My heart gave a sudden leap, but his expression hardened.

"You know it's wrong, don't you? Surely you've heard what the ministers say?" He snorted. "They say it often enough." He picked up his glass and drained it, then poured more from a crystal decanter.

How could he think that way if he loved me? I waited for him to look at me, and finally, he did, his eyes reddened.

"Yes, I've heard what our preacher has to say, but the Book also says, 'Love one another as I have loved you.' How can love, any kind of love, be wrong?"

A single tear ran slowly from the corner of his eye, and for a moment, I thought my heart would break. Then he pushed the glass away and looked at me, shaking his head. "Out of the mouths of babes…. All right, boy. Here's the bargain: I will return next summer, and if you still want to go with me then, you may."

I had to swallow before I could speak. "You promise?"

He laughed, that rare, hearty laugh I loved to hear. "Yes, I promise." He stood, slapping one hand on the tabletop. "Now, you get yourself on home before my foolishness gets the best of my better judgment."

I got up slowly. Somehow I knew he would let me stay if I asked. And if we were together tonight, he would have to take me with him. I wouldn't have to wait until next year, but….

I moved toward the door, barely brushing against his shoulder as I passed him. I wanted to be with him more than I had ever wanted anything, but I wanted it to be right between us too. I didn't want to spoil what we might have before it even began.

I had almost reached the door when I felt his hand on my shoulder. I turned back, and suddenly his strong arms went round me, pulling me in until I felt his warmth all the way from his chest to where the hot length of me pressed against my trousers. One callused hand came up to run gentle fingers through my hair. My whole body tingled. I closed my eyes and felt his lips press mine, the hairs of his mustache sweep against my cheek….

Then he pushed me away.

Dazed, I stumbled down the step, turning to look up at him, silhouetted in the doorway. "Bargains must be sealed," he whispered, and I could hear the smile I could not see.

* * *

I don't know if Papa knew when I crawled through the window and back into bed beside my brother, but I would have gladly taken any punishment he might have given me. It would still be a very long year before Thomas returned, but I would wait now with patience. I touched a fingertip to my mouth. I could still feel the first tender kiss of the man I loved.

He would return to me. I had his seal and promise.