Catch Me When I Fall

by Graves, Bonnie;

  “Since the minute I laid eyes on you.”

  “But you let me work.”

  “I don’t have nothin’ against girls. Hell, you’re as good a worker as any boy, nearly as strong, smarter, and . . .” Boss Man smiled. “A mite better looking, I’d add. You remind me of a girl I once knew.”

  Emma felt herself blushing.

  “Enjoy the circus, missy. But better run along, if you want to get a good seat.”

  She didn’t know what to say or hardly even what to do. All she knew was that her face felt flushed, as warm as if she’d been standing in front of a crackling fire, and inside her, near her heart, she felt full of the strangest feelings, feelings so new they didn’t seem to belong to her. And then she heard Nan’s voice.

  “Will! Yoo-hoo! Over here!”

  Startled, she looked across the circus lot at Nan who stood under the tree where they’d had lunch, waving frantically. What was Nan doing here again? And why did she look so desperate?

  Then, remembering her manners, she turned back to Boss Man. “Thank you for the ticket, thank you very much!”

  Boss Man tipped his hat and off Emma flew toward Nan.

  “Is something wrong?” Emma asked, taking deep breaths. “Why are you back?”

  “Clarence and Teddy. They said your mother was looking for you!”

  “Oh, my gosh! I’ve got to get inside the Big Top before Mother finds me!”

  “You got a ticket?”

  Emma held out the precious yellow ticket with the black letters. Admit One. Hackenstack’s Most Spectacular Show on Earth.

  Nan grinned. “Oh, Emma!”

  “Wish me luck,” Emma said, running toward the Midway. Soon she would see him, Filippo the Flying Wonder! The man who very possibly was her very own father.

  But first she had to get inside the Big Top before Mother found her.

  

  The Midway swarmed with people. A long line had formed at the ticket wagon and a longer line snaked toward the Big Top entrance.

  Emma pulled Granddad’s fedora low on her forehead, keeping her eyes glued to the ground as she weaved her way through the crowd, dodging kids carrying balloons, toy monkeys on a stick, and cotton candy. She didn’t want to see anyone she knew. Even in overalls and a fedora someone might recognize her. The thought of Mother finding her before she was safe inside the Big Top made her stomach knot up.

  “Step right up, Ladies and Gentlemen,” a sideshow barker called. “Get your tickets to cast your eyes upon exotic, never-seen-before wonders that will thrill and amaze. And what you see on the banners outside, you’ll witness in living reality on the inside. Step right up!”

  Emma glanced up at the banner showing Fat Lady Tina and wondered how Tina felt about people gawking at her in her satin rompers, her ample flesh exposed for all the world to see. Tina seemed like a nice person, someone who you could have fun joking around with. She certainly knew how to laugh!

  “Hot dogs! Popcorn! Cotton candy!” concessionaires shouted. The smell of hot dogs, roasted peanuts, and popcorn made Emma’s mouth water but, of course, she had no money for any of it.

  The band started playing and people began making their way to the Big Top. The show was going to begin soon.

  Hurrying to take her place at the end of the crowded line, Emma looked around for Mother. When she didn’t see her, Emma gave a silent prayer of thanks.

  The kid in front of her pinched his nose shut. “Somebody has BO,” he said.

  “Woodrow!” a tall lady next to him said. “Don’t be rude.”

  The kid, of course, meant her. Who else could it have been? Spending the morning watering elephants, hoisting the Big Top, and carrying planks for the bleachers made her smell as ripe as Granddad’s Limburger cheese. Not the odor she wanted, since she was soon going to meet the handsome Filippo the Flying Wonder. Holy cow, he’d take one whiff of her and run the other way! This matter of personal hygiene posed a problem she hadn’t considered until this moment. When and how could she find a way to wash?

  When the line started to move, Emma’s heart began to beat faster. She reached inside her pants pocket, felt for the ticket, and held it tight.

  “Ticket,” the man said when Emma finally reached the podium where the ticket taker sat. He had dark bushy eyebrows, blood-shot eyes, and a mustache that fell over his lip.

  “Ticket!” the man repeated. “Got a ticket or not, Huck?”

  Emma handed him her ticket. “Could I have a stub…for a souvenir?”

  The man scowled, but tore the ticket, handing Emma half. She stuck the stub in her front pocket next to the photograph.

  As she stepped inside the Big Top, Emma’s heart nearly jumped into her throat. How amazing it looked! Dozens of poles holding up the enormous canvas roof jutted every which way, wires criss-crossed, lights beamed, ropes dangled. Ripples of excitement skittered through her as she stared at the trapezes suspended high above the sawdust floor.

  “Over there, Sonny,” the usher said, pointing to an empty spot in the third row. Emma hurried to grab the seat while the band played and the trombones oom-pah-pahed.

  “Popcorn, fresh roasted peanuts! Get ‘em while they’re hot! Ice cold lemonade!” candy butchers shouted. Her throat felt dry as sawdust. If only she had a nickel.

  In front of her, down on the track, a clown dressed in an oversized policeman’s uniform and huge floppy shoes twirled a baton and pretended to whack a girl in the front row, but whopped himself on the head instead. The girl shrieked and Emma giggled. Tiny bubbles tickled her insides. And then tears suddenly stung at her eyes. How silly! Laughing and crying at the same time! Like sweet and salty mixed together. Soon she would see the man who might be her father.

  Emma gazed around the Big Top. She wanted to remember everything, press it on her brain so she wouldn’t forget a thing—the sights, smells, and sounds. But before she had a chance, the lights dimmed, a drum rolled, and the band began playing a tune that made her feet want to dance. When the lights brightened again, Emma perched on the edge of her seat. Down on the hippodrome track paraded jugglers and acrobats, clowns on foot and in wagons, and carved and painted cages carrying exotic animals. There were horses with bareback riders, camels, and her elephants—a dazzling cavalcade of glitter, spangle, and music.

  Before the last elephant had marched from the tent, the ringmaster shouted, “Ladies and Gentleman, children of all ages, now direct your attention to ring number three where the amazing Wonder Bears will perform feats of unparalleled skill and dazzling grace!”

  In ring number three, six brown bears wearing yellow ballet skirts danced around on their hind legs like giant teddy bear ballerinas. They stood on their forepaws, their hind legs in the air. They laid on their backs twirling barrels with their hind feet. They caught balls thrown by their trainers. They looked like they were having fun. Emma hoped they were.

  The crowd went wild over their antics, clapping and cheering. It was hard to believe these were honest-to-goodness bears and not people wearing bear costumes. Who could imagine bears riding bicycles, juggling, skating, and dancing? Oh, if only Nan were here to see it all.

  “Ladies and Gentleman, now in the center ring—Dominic the Daring and his prides of the jungle.”

  Emma focused her eyes on the center ring. A dozen or more striped tigers swaggered inside a large cage in the center ring. Their fierce roars sent chills up and down her spine. Dominic the Daring carried a baton, not a whip like Cat Man with bored Simba. When Dominic waved his baton, he looked like a bandleader—la, la, la, la! And, holy cow, if that waving baton didn’t get those tigers quietly gathered together, sitting like a bunch of pussycats in a sunny window! Then Dominic picked up a hoop. In the next instant, the hoop was filled with dancing flames and, one after the other, the tigers leaped through the fiery hoop.

  “Ohhhh!” the crowd roared.


  “Lord have mercy!” a woman behind her said. “Those poor, beautiful animals!”

  “It’s just an act, Gladys,” a man said. “They’re fine.”

  Emma hoped he was right. The animal acts were thrilling and a wonder to behold, still how did the animals feel about all this? She hoped they thought it was all great fun.

  For the next several acts, there was something going on in all three rings at once. Emma’s gaze jumped from one ring to another. She didn’t want to miss a thing.

  Then she saw Sabu leading the elephants she had hayed and watered that morning into the Big Top. It was their turn!

  Emma grinned with pride watching those mammoth pachyderms dance as gracefully as any human dancer one one-hundredth their size. Emma whistled and clapped and cheered for her elephants.

  When the elephants paraded off with Sabu, the ringmaster announced, “And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment you have been waiting for—the one, the only, the death-defying Flying Santinis—Gabriele, Filippo, and Maria!”

  Emma craned her neck toward the performers’ entrance to get her first look at him—Filippo the Flying Wonder. And there he was, she was sure of it, the man on the right side of Maria. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She clapped loudly as the three Flying Santinis pranced into the center ring with long, flowing capes draped over their shoulders. They smiled, their arms wide, reaching out to greet the audience, turning in every direction while the band played and the people clapped and cheered. Emma leaned forward in her seat, staring hard at the man to Maria’s right, the man the ringmaster had called Filippo. If only he would turn and look at her. She needed so desperately to see his face. Was his the same face as the one in the photograph?

  Emma laid her hand on the bib pocket where the photograph lay against her heart and held her breath.

  Walk over here. Walk closer. Emma prayed. Walk closer!

  Chapter Ten

  Filippo the Flying Wonder

  But Emma’s silent prayer was not answered. Instead of walking closer to where she sat, Filippo, Gabriele, and Maria turned to the other side of the tent, swirled off their capes and handed them to a man who stood at the edge of the ring.

  Gabriele kicked off a pair of white clogs, grabbed the edge of the net, and flipped over onto it. Then, he climbed a rope that led to a trapeze hanging high above the center ring. At the same time, Filippo and Maria climbed a rope ladder to a platform opposite Gabriele. Then Maria unhooked a trapeze and pushed it high. Standing in the center of the platform, Maria grabbed the bar as it flew back to her, swung out on it, turned around, and returned to the platform smiling, standing tall, arms outspread. Filippo did the same, only his swing was higher and his return to the platform showier.

  As the band began a waltz tune, Maria swung out on the trapeze, did a twisting somersault, then let go in midair. Emma gasped. A split second later, Gabriele, hanging upside down on the other trapeze, caught Maria. Cymbals clashed and the audience exploded into applause. Gabriele and Maria swayed together, Maria hanging from his grasp, Gabriele dangling upside down on the bar, until Maria caught the empty flying trapeze and returned to the platform.

  Next was Filippo’s turn. Emma wiped her sweaty hands on her overalls and craned her neck to watch the man who just might be her very own father.

  Drums rolled. Filippo grabbed onto the trapeze, then swung higher and higher, so high Emma felt dizzy. Her palms sweat even more, her feet too. She held her breath when she heard Maria shout, “Break!” Filippo, his body straight as a board, his toes nearly touching the top of the tent, let go of the bar and for a split second floated in mid-air. The audience gasped and Gabriele grabbed Filippo by the wrists. Emma let out the breath she had been holding and clapped her blistery hands.

  While the band played, Filippo, Gabriele, and Maria soared high above the net and the sawdust, twisting and spinning. When they flew, letting go of the trapeze, they looked like birds in the air, swooping from branch to branch as if gravity had no hold on them at all. It was danger and glory all at once. The crowd gasped whenever Maria or Filippo let go and somersaulted or pirouetted in mid-air, falling, falling until finally they reached Gabriele who hung upside down with his knees clamped tight around the bar.

  Emma’s palms felt cold and wet and her stomach quivered. But, oh, more than anything, she wanted to soar like the Santinis, to feel the thrill and freedom of flying!

  Then an idea came to her so quickly and with such clarity, it startled her. What if Filippo could teach her? Teach her to fly through the air like he did? The idea was thrilling and terrifying—all at once—and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. Maybe Boss Man was right—maybe the circus was in her blood, really and truly part of who she was.

  “And now, ladies and gentleman,” the ringmaster announced. “You are about to witness the most amazing, death-defying trick in circus history. Please, direct your attention to Filippo the Flying Wonder as he prepares to attempt the TRIPLE somersault!”

  Murmurs trickled through the audience.

  “Silence, please!” the ringmaster called.

  A hush fell over the audience. The woman next to Emma bent close to her and whispered, “A triple somersault, like the great Codona. He could break his neck…if he fell.”

  “I can’t watch,” the woman behind Emma moaned.

  Emma’s stomach lurched. She wanted to cover her eyes, but she couldn’t. She lifted her head toward the top of the tent, eyes riveted on the platform a hundred feet above the floor where Filippo stood. There was a net . . . if he did fall . . . but still . . .

  Filippo grabbed the trapeze bar and yelled “Listo!”

  Drums rolled softly as Gabriele, swinging on the trapeze, flipped himself upside down and wrapped his legs around the ropes that held the bar. “Hep!” he called. The eerie word echoed through the tent, while the soft drum roll increased its tempo.

  Filippo, trapeze bar in hand, leaped from the platform and swung. Higher and higher he soared until Emma thought he would hit the roof of the Big Top. The drums rolled louder and Emma’s heart thudded at its own frantic pace. She covered her ears, but not her eyes. At the height of the arc, Filippo swung so high his head touched the top of the tent.

  “Break!” Maria shouted.

  Filippo hurled his body heavenward, let go of the trapeze and spun, somersaulting backwards like a whirling ball.

  The crowd gasped.

  Emma’s heart leaped into her throat.

  Where was the catcher?

  Cymbals clashed.

  A split second later, a smiling Filippo dangled from Gabriele’s grasp.

  A loud cymbal crashed—triumph!

  The crowd let out one huge sigh as Filippo pirouetted back to the bar and mounted the pedestal. Tah dah! boomed the band, then started a rousing tune while the audience broke into applause like thunder.

  Emma stomped her feet and clapped her hands until her palms stung. Tears rolled out of the corners of her eyes as Filippo climbed down a rope to the center ring and bowed as if to say, “I am the greatest”—and he was.

  After his first bow, Filippo stood up and walked closer to her section of the tent to take another bow. When he stood up from his bow and looked up at the audience what she saw took her breath away. He did look like the man in the photograph. Was this amazing man who now stood only yards in front of her truly her very own father?

  Chapter Eleven

  No Townies Allowed!

  The crowd was still applauding when Filippo, Gabriele, and Maria pranced toward the performer’s entrance, waving, smiling and blowing kisses. Emma caught one of Filippo’s kisses and blew back her own.

  At that moment, she knew what she had to do. Now was her chance. Maybe her only chance.

  “Excuse me,” she repeated as she made her way down the crowded row toward the aisle, bumping into knees, stepping on toe
s. She had to get to the performers’ entrance that led to the circus backyard. She had to find Filippo before he disappeared forever.

  “Hey! Down in front!” people yelled.

  Just as she stepped onto the sawdust floor of the hippodrome track, clowns sprang through the performers’ entrance. Quickly she side-stepped the barrage of clowns in her desperate attempt to get out of the tent and find Filippo. But instead of reaching the outside, she found herself swept along in a frenzy of flapping feet, honking noses, and tooting horns. One clown snatched her hat, her hair tumbling out. He pulled off his cone-shaped hat and plunked Granddad’s fedora on his bald head. Then he jammed his own pointy hat on her head, snapped the rubber band under her chin, and clapped his white-gloved hands, his painted smile a mile wide. “Just go along with this, kid,” the clown whispered. “It’ll be fun.” Two other clowns scooped her up by the elbows and carried her along with them. The crowd howled.

  When they reached the center ring, the clowns tossed Emma into a blanket and began flinging her in the air. Up she flew and down she fell while the band played and the crowd hooted. Emma’s stomach tickled, but the clown was wrong. She wasn’t having fun. The clowns had spoiled her chance to find Filippo. But that wasn’t the worst of it. What if Mother stood watching inside the Big Top?

  As if reading her thoughts, the clowns cocooned the scratchy, mildew and hay-smelling blanket around her. Her stomach squeezed up the nearly digested peanut butter and lemonade. She swallowed the bitterness back down . . . but barely. She felt herself being carried, bounced and jounced, while the band played and the audience roared.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the sack opened and she toppled onto the dusty ground outside the tent. Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, throwing the circus lot under their shadows. The clown wearing Granddad’s fedora bent over and yanked his own hat off Emma. He stared at her hair. “Here’s your hat, girlie. You did great,” he said, handing her Granddad’s fedora and a red-checkered handkerchief. “A little souvenir for you.”

  “Thank you,” Emma said, stuffing the handkerchief in her pants pocket.