He’s sitting opposite, a newcomer, an interloper—a retired barrister with a square jaw, pitted nose, and great floppy ears. The ears remind me of Rosie, although nothing else does. She was a fine soul, and he’s—well, he’s a retired lawyer. I can’t imagine what the nurses thought a lawyer and a veterinarian would have in common, but they wheeled him on over to sit opposite me that first night, and here he’s been ever since.

He glares at me, his jaw moving back and forth like a cow chewing cud. Incredible. He’s actually eating the stuff.

The old ladies chatter like schoolgirls, blissfully unaware.

“They’re here until Sunday,” says Doris. “Billy stopped to find out.”

“Yes, two shows on Saturday and one on Sunday. Randall and his girls are taking me tomorrow,” says Norma. She turns to me. “Jacob, will you be going?”

I open my mouth to answer, but before I can Doris blurts out, “And did you see those horses? My word, they’re pretty. We had horses when I was a girl. Oh, how I loved to ride.” She looks into the distance, and for a split second I can see how lovely she was as a young woman.

“Do you remember when the circus traveled by train?” says Hazel. “The posters would appear a few days ahead—they’d cover every surface in town! You couldn’t see a brick in between!”

“Golly, yes. I certainly do,” Norma says. “They put posters on the side of our barn one year. The men told Father they used a special glue that would dissolve two days after the show, but darned if our barn wasn’t still plastered with them months later!” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Father was fit to be tied!”

“And then a few days later the train would pull in. Always at the crack of dawn.”

“My father used to take us down to the tracks to watch them unload. Gosh, that was something to see. And then the parade! And the smell of peanuts roasting—”

“And Cracker Jack!”