[JMM] 35.2 Where does real magic exist? Write about it. (For <lj site="livejournal.com" user="offeri

[thepainted_lady]

Wednesdays in autumn were, on a rule, quiet around the carnival. The rubes' children had all gone back to school, and the rubes to work, and no one wanted a show when they had to all get up early the next morning. Summers were different. During the summer they could end up having a show every night, but in the autumns a sort of serenity settled over the carnival during the week. People slept in a little later, because there wasn’t so much to do. Chores were more leisurely, and people chatted while they tended to the daily needs, or went about the maintenance of rides and games to be ready for the coming weekend.

It was still unseasonably warm, but there was a bit of a breeze where Lydia sat under a tree and looked back at the towering steel and flapping pennants that looked somehow abandoned on this rolling plain. If she closed her eyes, reached out, she could feel just how unabandoned it was, with life and emotion and hopes and fears all tangling around inside the members of the family who moved through their day. She’d finished up her work for the day, and not wanting to confine herself to the stuffy interior of the trailer, and feeling more of an urge to commune with herself than the family, her feet and heart had led her here. Keeping her eyes closed, she drifted; hearing the soft buzz of insects, the trickle of the stream; feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin; smelling the distant smoke and meat that indicated Samuel or someone had fired up the grills for dinner. That made her smile, more than a little grateful that her appetite had finally returned.

Stretching her ability, she checked in on each loved one, sensing their mood, making sure there was nothing she was needed for at the moment. Everyone seemed content enough, so she pulled back into herself, stretching a little, and then stilling abruptly as a flutter went off in her abdomen.

It tickled a little, feeling like bubbles running around under the surface of her skin. She held her breath, and there it was again. Slowly, so slowly, terrified of making the sensation stop, she slid her hand to her stomach, cradling the swell that had finally started to make itself known, pressing there in some quiet plea for further confirmation, and after a few breathless moments, she felt the movement again, inside and out.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she held very, very still, not even letting a sound escape when they fell. When she was finally forced to breathe, the sound slid out on a sigh, and then a soft laugh. The baby liked that, and she had to giggle as the tickling increased for a moment.

“Hi there,” she murmured softly, sliding her fingers across her skin.

She needed to find Samuel, to tell him, to show him, even if the likelihood that he’d feel anything so small was slim. He was sensitive to such things, though, and she wanted to share, to at least have somewhere to spill out the incredible joy that seemed to course through her veins. That required moving, though, and movement could make it stop, ruin the quiet perfection of this here and now.

This was clearly a time when a cell phone would have been handy, even if the possibility of signal out here was remote. In a few minutes, then, she’d go, find him, tell him. For now, she closed her eyes again, and just savored the contented feeling running deep through her, her focus now completely inward, wrapped around that tiny quickening, and all the future joy it foretold.

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[offering-hope.livejournal.com]

In the end, it was Samuel who found her.

Even with the coming of the autumn and the lax pace it generally afforded, he'd found himself just as busy as ever. There were still books to do, supplies to acquire through trade or con (they needed some new steel for the dive rim for the Ferris wheel, and it couldn't wait too long), weekends in the milder part of the country to book, and so on and so forth. He supposed some of it could have been left to the others, Edgar specifically, but he'd been something like a man possessed. After everything that had happened and everything that was still to come -- in this case, the baby -- he didn't trust anyone else. He needed things to go right and when you wanted something done right, you did it yourself.

Thankfully, however, all he thought needed his attentions had been dealt with for the day and without wearing him down -- having a reason for his fervor gave him little time to feel overwhelmed -- and he'd followed reports from the rest of the family as to where Lydia had gone. He flashed her a smile that was small but fond, such a far cry from his usual barker persona, and moved to her side when he found her. He put his back to the tree, looking down at her.

"Afternoon."