by Pam Jenoff
“Without a baby, I’m free to perform or do anything else I’d like,” she says as if trying to convince herself. She rolls toward me. “Nothing is going to change what has happened.” Then she looks past me and her eyes widen. I turn to see Luc, who stands uneasily in the doorway to the carriage, not daring to enter but not wanting to leave me either after all that had happened. “What is he doing here?” Astrid demands.
“Astrid...” I struggle to find an explanation as to why I am with Luc after I had sworn to her I would stop seeing him. But I find none.
“Convenient how he took you away from here just before the arrest,” she spits in French, wanting Luc to hear. “He must have known.”
“No!” I cry. Luc would never betray us. I wait for Luc to say something to deny Astrid’s accusation and defend himself. But he does not. Astrid’s distrust seeps through me. Luc had seen Peter’s act, and even warned Peter it would lead to trouble. I recall Luc’s words to Peter the night he had come to the circus: They’ll arrest you... Was that a prediction or had he known what was to come?
“This is all his fault!” Astrid flares, hurling all of her anger and sorrow at Luc. I want to tell her that Peter, not Luc, is to blame for doing the routine after Herr Neuhoff had forbidden it. But now is not the time. It would only make things worse.
Luc raises his hands in surrender, unwilling to quarrel. He steps off the train and into the shadows. I sit down beside Astrid and wrap my arms around her. Even if Luc is innocent, it is because I was off with him that I had not been here when Astrid needed me. She shudders violently. Then she closes her eyes, so still I check to make sure she is still breathing. Her losses slam down upon me then: Herr Neuhoff, her child and Peter, all taken from her in a single night.
Or perhaps not. I look toward the door of the railcar. “Hold him,” I tell Astrid, pressing Theo firmly into her arms.
I walk to the door of the railcar and step down, but don’t see Luc. Maybe he has gone. A moment later, he steps from the shadows. “Is she all right?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, fighting back tears. “She’s lost everything.”
“I’m so sorry,” Luc says. “I feel as if this is all my fault.”
“What do you mean?” A rock of dread forms in the pit of my stomach. Had Astrid been right about him after all?
“My father was complaining about the circus a week or so ago,” Luc begins slowly. “He said the show coming here would only cause trouble. I told him how I had warned Peter about the routine, told him not to do it again. I thought it would help. But that only seemed to make him angrier.”
“Peter chose to do the act,” I reply. “That wasn’t your fault.”
Luc shakes his head. “There’s more. Papa warned me to stay away from you or there would be consequences. I thought I’d been careful going back and forth. But if he had one of his men watching me, and he followed me here tonight and saw the wedding... I’m so sorry,” he says again, grabbing my hand. His face watches mine, eyes pleading.
“You didn’t mean to do anything,” I say. But I pull away. Even though he hadn’t meant to, Luc had brought ruin to the circus, just as Astrid had warned. I am suddenly angry, not just at Luc, but at myself.
“If you want me to go now, I understand,” Luc says. “You must hate me for what I’ve done.”
“No,” I reply firmly. “I know it wasn’t your fault. But we need to fix this.”
“How?” he asks.
“We must do something to find Peter.” Doubt clouds Luc’s eyes. He has seen people taken by the police too many times and knows how impossible this is.
I square my shoulders. I had failed Astrid once before. I cannot let that happen again. “Your father,” I say. “This was a police action. Surely he knows something about it.”
Pain crosses Luc’s face at the notion that his father was somehow involved. “I will talk to him first thing in the morning and see if he knows anything.”
“Morning could be too late,” I reply. “We have to go see him now.”
“We?” Luc repeats with disbelief.
“I’m coming with you,” I say firmly.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Noa, you can’t.”
“You don’t want your father to see you with me,” I say, stung.
“It’s not that. But everything is so dangerous right now. Why can’t you just wait here?”
“Because I have to do this for Astrid. I’m going to see your father now, with or without you.” I look him squarely in the eyes. “With would be better.”
He opens his mouth to argue further. “Fine,” he says, seeming to think better of it.
“Just give me a minute.” I look down the outside of the train where a few of the circus woman stand huddled, talking. “Elsie!” I call, gesturing her over. The girl breaks free from the group and comes to me. “I need you to watch Theo for a bit.” Though I still don’t like or trust her after what she had done with Theo, I have no choice. Astrid is in no shape to watch him alone.
Astrid. I look back through the doorway of the carriage at Astrid, who lies doubled over on the berth, clutching Theo. I should stay and comfort her, but I need to know what Luc learns from his father. “Watch Astrid, too,” I instruct Elsie. “Both of them. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I should tell Astrid myself that I am going, but I don’t want her to ask questions.
“I’m ready now,” I tell Luc, putting my hand in his as he starts in the direction of the trees.
Luc leads me through the forest down a path where I have not been before. A chilling breeze, colder than I have felt in weeks, causes the trees to dance wildly above us, casting ghostly shadows on the moonlit ground.
Several minutes later, the woods break to a sloping pasture that ends at a villa. I am not sure what I expected the mayor’s residence to look like. Something more grand or ominous, or at least a bit larger. But it is a traditional French country house, a long sloping gray slate roof broken by three windows. There is a flagstone path ending at a rounded door, ivy climbing the wall on each side. A bicycle leans against the adjacent fence.
It is the middle of the night and I’d expected the house to be quiet. But behind the curtain the lights are still on. I stop in my tracks, suddenly losing my nerve. “Maybe this was a mistake.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you before. If Papa sees you...” Luc starts to push me into the low shrubs beside the fence. The bicycle that is leaning there tumbles to the hard ground with a clatter. Before I can hide, the front door opens and a man appears in a smoking jacket.
“Luc,” he calls, peering into the darkness. He is an older version of his son, wizened and stooped, but with the same blue eyes and chiseled features. He might have been handsome in his day. “Is that you?” In his voice, I hear concern, a father for all his faults still worried about his son—hardly the villain I had imagined. A rich garlicky smell comes from inside the house, coq au vin for dinner earlier perhaps, mixed with cigar smoke.
The mayor steps outside, squinting in the darkness. As his eyes adjust, they lock on me. I stiffen. “You’re the circus girl,” the mayor says, a note of disdain in his voice. “What do you want?”
Luc clears his throat. “One of their performers has been arrested,” he says.
The mayor stiffens and for a moment I think he will deny it. But then he nods. “The Russian clown.” Peter is so much more than that, I want to protest. Astrid’s husband, the heart of the circus.
“Surely you can do something.” Luc’s voice is pleading, fighting for us.
“He was performing acts mocking the Reich,” the mayor states flatly. His voice is cold. “The Germans want to try him for treason.”
I picture Astrid, hear her cries as they had taken Peter. “At least let us see him, then,” I venture.
The mayor raises his e
yebrows, surprised I have spoken. “That’s quite impossible.”
He’s going to be a father, I want to say, appealing to the mayor as one who has a son. But I have sworn to keep her secret and I doubt it would sway the mayor. “Our circus owner died tonight and we need Peter so much more now. Please...” I beg, searching for the right words and not finding them.
“It’s out of my hands,” the mayor replies. “He’s been taken to the old army camp on the outskirts of town to be deported, sent east first thing in the morning.”
A distressed look crosses Luc’s face. “I thought they weren’t using the camp anymore.”
“They aren’t,” his father replies, a note of grimness to his voice. “Only for special cases.”
“Papa, do something,” Luc says, trying again, still wanting to believe. I see now the boy who had defended his father, even after the awful things he had done.
“I can’t,” the mayor says flatly.
“You won’t even help your son?” Luc demands. There is a new forcefulness to his voice. “I suppose it isn’t surprising since you sold out your own people.”
“How dare you?” he thunders. “I’m your father.”
“My father helped people. My father would never have stood by while our friends and neighbors were arrested. And he would have done something to help now. You are not my father,” Luc spits, and I wonder if he has gone too far. “If Mama were here...”
“Enough!” the mayor barks, voice cutting through the still night air. “You have no idea the things I’ve faced, or the choices I’ve had to make to protect you. If your mother was here, it is you she’d be ashamed of. You were never like this before.” His eyes shoot daggers in my direction. “It must be her doing, circus trash with no upbringing.”
Luc steps forward, putting himself between his father and me. “Don’t say such things about Noa.”
“Never mind,” the mayor replies, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “They’ll be gone soon enough. You should come inside now, Luc.”
“No,” Luc says, meeting his father’s eyes. “I can’t stay here, not anymore.” He turns to me. “Let’s go.”
“Luc, wait!” the mayor calls, his voice rising with surprise.
“Goodbye, Papa.” Luc takes my hand and leads me away from the villa, leaving the mayor alone in the doorway.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask as we pass through the gate. Luc keeps walking, eyes forward. His strides are so long I almost have to skip to keep up.
We reach the edge of the forest. “Wait,” I say, stopping. “Are you sure? If you need to go back, I understand. He’s your father after all.”
“I’m not going back,” he replies.
“You mean ever?” I ask. He nods. “But where will you go?” I ask, my concern for him rising.
Luc does not answer, but instead takes me in his arms and presses his lips against mine hard, as though trying to wipe away what had just happened. I return his kisses, willing us back to earlier that night before everything had changed.
Then he breaks away. “I’m sorry, Noa,” he says.
For a moment, I think he is talking about the kiss. “About Peter?” I ask. “Don’t be. You tried...”
“Not just for that. For all of it.” He kisses me once more. “Goodbye, Noa.” Then he starts away in the other direction through the trees, leaving me behind.
20
Noa
The funeral takes place the next day on a too-sunny morning in the local cemetery, a nest of leaning headstones along the same hilly road on the far side of Thiers we’d climbed the day of the arrival parade. Herr Neuhoff’s is a lone grave behind the rest, overhung by a willow tree. Looking down at the closed oak casket, I imagine how he must look inside, lifeless body gray and waxy in his magnificent ringmaster’s suit. He does not belong here. He should be back in Germany, resting beside his wife. Instead, he will lie here forever. Sadness engulfs me. He had been everything to us, protected us. And now he is gone.
In the end, it was Herr Neuhoff’s health that had killed him. His heart condition had been worsening right before us, although he’d done his best to hide it so we would not worry. The stress of keeping the circus going could not have helped. We had all been too caught up in our own concerns to notice. Then the struggle with the police had simply been the final straw. Or so we thought. We would never really know.
We stand uncertainly around the coffin. Someone should say something about the benefactor who meant so much to us. But we have no minister; Peter is gone, and Astrid is in no shape. At the front, close to the gravesite, Emmet stands alone, tears streaming down his fat cheeks. The rest of the circus folk keep their distance, and I cannot help but feel sorry for him.
As the gravediggers lower the coffin, I stifle a cry. I want to reach out and touch it one more time, as if doing so could turn back time to just a few days earlier when everything was all right. Astrid steps forward and throws a handful of dirt into the hole in the ground. I follow her example, breathing in the deep earthy smell, feeling the darkness below. Though I have never been to a funeral before, the ritual feels somehow familiar. I stare down into the dark hole. Thank you, I say silently to Herr Neuhoff. For saving Theo and me. For all of it. In my whole life, there has never been anyone who has done more. I step back and brush the dirt off my hands, then lace my fingers with Astrid’s.
Swallowing back the lump that has formed in my throat, I study Astrid’s face out of the corner of my eye. Her skin is pale and her eyes hollow. But she has not cried. How is that possible? A few days ago, she was beginning her life with Peter. Now all of it is gone. She shudders, and I put my arm around her, our grief pressing silently together. My eyes burn and I blink back the tears. Astrid has done so much to care for and protect me; it is my turn to be strong for her now. I wrap my arm more tightly around her shoulders.
Then the funeral is over and we start the long, slow walk back to the fairgrounds. In the distance, bells peal eleven. I take a last look over my shoulder at the gravesite.
As we skirt the edge of town, I can see wagons and lorries climbing the steep road to the market square, children walking to school more quietly than they once had. Where is Luc? I wonder. Even now, I can’t help but think of him and his proposal that we run away together. For a minute, even as I said no, I could see a glimmer of hope, a life that we might have had together. Now that, like everything else, seems gone.
I have not seen him since the night of Peter’s arrest, and there was no note in the belly box when I checked the past two mornings. I half expected him to turn up at the funeral and pay respects, but he hadn’t. Maybe he sensed that he would not be welcome, or that Astrid might blame him yet again for all that had happened.
When we reach the fairgrounds, we do not return to the train, but mill around the backyard like parentless children. “We should rehearse for the show,” Gerda says. I had nearly forgotten: it is Tuesday, with a performance tonight. Tickets have been sold and crowds will come.
“But we have no ringmaster,” one of the horseback riders points out. Heads nod. Performing without Herr Neuhoff is hard to imagine. Once Peter might have filled in, but he is gone, too.
“I can do it,” Emmet says. All eyes travel warily in his direction. He does not have the personality to engage the crowd. I’ve never even seen him set foot in the ring. But there is no other choice. “It’s only for one day before we leave,” he adds. “We can figure out something else after that.”
“One day?” Helmut, the animal trainer, asks. “What do you mean? We aren’t supposed to move on to the next village until Friday.” I recall Astrid telling me we would stay in Thiers for three weeks before moving on to the next town and we are still days short of that.
“We pack after tonight’s show,” Emmet replies. “Tear everything down. And we aren’t going to the ne
xt town.” My skin prickles. “We’re turning back to a site near Strasbourg, in Alsace-Lorraine.” He delivers the bad news like it is some sort of trump card.
There is a collective gasp. Tonight. The word bounces around in my brain. Emmet had told us the circus would be sent back, but I never expected it to actually happen so soon. I turn back toward Astrid, seeking her help, but she stands numbly, as if she hasn’t heard.
“Alsace,” one of the acrobats murmurs. “That might as well be Germany.”
I remember what Astrid had told me about Herr Neuhoff fighting to find us a way to stay in France. “Can we appeal?” I dare to ask.
Emmet shakes his head. “My father tried to get the order changed before all of this happened. Our request was rejected.” With Peter’s arrest and everything that happened, there would be no reprieve. And Emmet is not a fighter; he would always choose the course of least resistance. We can’t count on him to ask again. “So we will perform in Alsace.”
I tense, flooded with fear. I can’t go back so close to Germany with Theo. It would be far too dangerous. I look southeast toward the hills and imagine what it would be like to take Theo and run. But I couldn’t possibly abandon Astrid, especially now.
“What about the cities in France we’ve booked?” I ask. Heads turn in my direction. “If we start canceling, we won’t be invited back next year. Think of the money we will lose.”
“Next year?” Emmet sneers, gesturing behind him. “The circus is dying, Noa. There is no money. We’ve lost our ringmaster and the Germans have just taken one of our star performers.” A choking noise, not quite a sob, catches in Astrid’s throat. Emmet continues, “They’ve humored us to a point. But whether it is now or a few months from now, this is the end. How much longer did you think this could go on?”
“We have to keep going,” Astrid says. It is the first time she has spoken since before the funeral, and her voice has none of its usual strength.
“To save you?” Emmet retorts.
“To save all of us,” I interject, “including you. Do you know what the Germans do to those who hide people?” I step back, fearful I’ve said more than I should.