Vagabond Circus Series Boxed Set

by Sarah Noffke

  Zuma wanted to return the question, but that would make her appear like she cared and although she did, now wasn’t the time to show it. So instead she shut her eyes and focused her conscious mind on her intended location. Within seconds her consciousness spiraled through the metallic tunnel and then deposited her under a blanket of stars and in a pasture stretching out in all directions under her feet. Everything she’d been holding inside screamed its way to the surface. For the first time that day she fully broke down. Zuma allowed every pain in her emotional center to spill out of her. She yelled in dream travel form, her voice not registering in the physical realm or scaring the cows lying several yards away. She sunk to her knees and pressed her forehead to the earth. This would be her greatest moment of weakness, her darkest hour.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  From the trapeze platform Jasmine stood, hands gripping the bar. She stared out at the empty big top all around. The way the big top looked right then expressed perfectly how Jasmine felt. Empty. Abandoned. Alone.

  “Hup,” she said to signal to no one that her trick was beginning. Then she sliced through the air. As she swung back she piked just enough to clear the platform and also build her speed for the next swing. Then Jasmine flew forward again. She released off the bar at full height, tucked, and rotated. At the point that Jack was supposed to catch her from the other side of the trapeze she opened up and reached toward nothing. There was no one. No one to catch her. She was all alone. The acrobats had abandoned her and Titus refused to disclose their whereabouts. Zuma and Jack wouldn’t answer their phones.

  Jasmine didn’t feel left out, she was left out.

  And Dave…

  The acrobat fell to the net and allowed it to absorb the full force of her fall, not even popping out of the bounce like usual.

  Dave was dead. He was the first person she came out to. Her parents were gay, so it wasn’t a disclosure done out of desperation. It was because she looked at Dave living his dream and she was finally inspired to do the same. The ringmaster had risked safety, wealth, and happiness to live his truth.

  And although Jasmine’s parents would undoubtedly accept her, as they did when she did finally come out, she also knew they would worry. Her parents, Papa Joe and Papa T, had often spoken of the obstacles they had faced when they came out. Her fathers had said they were happy she didn’t have to face a life like theirs. Their honest disclosures had made her resistant to face the truth, to admit it to anyone but herself. However, when Jasmine looked at Dave Raydon she was inspired to be who she was and to be it proudly.

  The girl threw herself back on the net, her head full of fuzzy tight brown curls tangling into it. And now her hero was dead. Dead. It was so permanent. And she knew that the loss of that man would permanently lie across her heart.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The space around Zuma made her feel she’d been transported through time. It took several blinks of her eyes for her to remember the events that had led her to that spot. It had been many years since she awoke in her old bed, in her old home. Her body felt raw from the night of tears her consciousness had shed. Zuma didn’t like the way her heart felt, fragile in her chest, like it was a brand new shell being tossed into the violent ocean. Another day in a world where Dave doesn’t breathe, she thought as she willed herself to rise.

  And then the second shock that morning for Zuma came when she pushed to a sitting position to find Finley. He was sitting on the window seat across from her bed. His elbows rested on his knees, his head bent down low, eyes on the ground. It was what she commonly referred to as the “Jack’s frustrated” stance. However, this was Finley and he looked nothing like Jack. His muscles were leaner than Jack’s, more slender, longer limbs. His hair was darker, his hazel green eyes more guarded. Finley’s face more angular, his mouth fuller. And when she looked at him she felt something, something she’d never felt for Jack. For anyone.

  Finley was dressed already in his clothes from the day before that Ginny had laundered. The mossy green shirt was reminiscent of his eyes. At the sound of her stirring Finley brought his gaze up and it startled her. There in his eyes was a new weight, one that pinched her heart. Finley had looked grieved since Dave had died, but now he had a hint of fear in his expression She’d never seen him like this, had never thought terror was something that could live in Finley since he was the model of strength.

  “What is it?” she said, scooting forward, taking her crumpled covers with her. “You look troubled.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said, shaking his head, still staring at her. And then his expression began to shift slightly. The fear remained, but an almost smile became its companion.

  “What?” she asked again, the question referring to his new expression.

  He blew out a strained breath through his mouth. “You’re breathtaking in the morning,” he said.

  At this, Zuma rolled her eyes and threw herself back on her pillows, hiding the heat on her face. “Oh, I didn’t realize you needed glasses,” she said.

  Several seconds passed where all she did was listen to his breathing on the other side of the room. If he was anyone else she could get into his head and know specifically what was bothering him this morning. Yes, it could be anything, as there were so many things to be upset about, but she wanted to know the details of his pains. Needed to know.

  Zuma pushed back up into a sitting position and slid off the bed. She then gracefully crossed the space and took a seat next to Finley on the long cushion built into the wall. The girl curled her legs up beside her and then looked at him. He was still leaning over his legs, back arched, but now his gaze sat neatly on the wood floor under his feet.

  “What is it, Finley? You look more stressed than I’ve ever seen you.” And what she didn’t say was his pain actually made her hurt. It affected her and that was a new experience for the girl.

  He pushed his elbows off his knees and sighed, sitting up, but he didn’t look at her. “I’m just mentally preparing myself for going into the compound.”

  She’d been so overwhelmed with Dave’s death and rescuing Jack that she hadn’t really thought of how hard it would be for Finley to return. And in truth she’d been too mad at him to care, but to see the weight in his eyes now demanded her concern. Finley was willingly returning to a place where for all of his life he’d been imprisoned. She remembered the scars on his back. The haunted look in his eyes when he spoke about Knight. There was no doubt he was a tortured soul and he was about to put himself back in front of his oppressor. For her. For Jack. For Vagabond Circus.

  “Tell me about Knight’s compound,” she said.

  “You’ll see for yourself soon enough,” Finley said.

  Zuma ground her teeth together, frustration knitting in her chest. Again he was staying sealed shut. And it infuriated her. How could one person bring her so many competing emotions?

  Finley sat back, not hiding the perusal his eyes took over her as they slid from her curled up feet to her face. “How are you doing?” he asked.

  Zuma shook off the feeling his lingering eyes produced and pulled her legs in front of her, her feet touching the cool wood floor. “Oh, you know, just waking up to another day where the greatest man I know is dead.” She was trying to make her voice sound flippant. She was trying to be flippant, but something that severe couldn’t be treated with such frivolousness, not even in pretend. And Zuma learned that the hard way when she went to open her mouth to say something else and her throat felt like it cracked with tears about to explode from the dam inside her. She pushed up and moved quickly for her closet. Zuma couldn’t believe the torrent of tears aching to be released. They’d come on so fiercely, like a hungry dog racing toward a long-anticipated meal.

  She managed to pull the closet door shut just as her tears broke the surface. Zuma tried and failed to keep the sound of her sobs down. She knew Finley could hear them from the other side of the closet door, which was why she pulled herself to the far side. Her closet was more th
e size of the average bedroom with shelves lining the walls and a large center area holding drawers and jewelry boxes. There was even a window and three antique full-length mirrors. And of course the entire space was filled with clothes. Thousands of dollars’ worth of designer clothes, most never worn.

  Zuma grabbed a pair of black pants and an old black T-shirt, hugging them to her as she continued to cry. The creak of the closet door made her reflexively straighten. She listened to Finley’s steps on the plush carpet behind her. He took three before pausing, keeping a distance between them.

  “You know, Zuma, if you need somebody right now, I’m here. You don’t have to forgive me or like me for me to provide you comfort,” he said at her back.

  She pressed her wet eyes shut, trying to close herself away from his words. It was an offer that tempted her soul. Finley’s comfort. She turned, ready to reject him, but when her eyes connected with Finley’s something in her felt caught like pollen in a sheath of fabric, unable to continue its journey as it intended.

  “Come here,” he said, his voice soft, but also carrying an authority to it.

  Her feet brought her forward without her permission and she didn’t stop until she was neatly folded in Finley’s arms. He released a breath, one of quiet relief, and Zuma allowed herself to cry against his chest for several seconds. But then something happened. And they both felt it at the same time and its effects independently. Zuma’s tears ceased immediately, no gentle dissipation, but rather a quick retreat. And the dread that had lived in Finley since the trip started disappeared, replaced by a serenity he’d never known. It made him all at once believe in the impossible, hope for days of richness, and yearn for everything he never felt he deserved. He pressed Zuma firmer in to him. Her arms were still clutching her clothes to her chest and she was glad for that or she would have been too tempted to snake her hands around Finley, pulling him to her more fully.

  Their embrace didn’t feel like when Jack comforted Zuma after Dave’s death or even when her mom hugged her the night before. This entanglement of two people felt like it had the power to heal actual wounds. But that’s impossible, she told herself. There was no logical reason one person could have this effect on her. But what Zuma always discounted was that life didn’t continuously unfold in logical ways. Dave often reminded her of that. Life is full of magic and if you try and explain it all then you lose the opportunity for bewilderment, which is a beautiful thing, he often told her. The thought of Dave pressed on her heart again but she didn’t cry, didn’t need to with Finley’s arms around her.

  Zuma stepped back slightly and looked up at him, almost curious what she’d see. The girl wondered if he felt as different as she did. She hoped he did and it wasn’t just her. Finley gave her a regretful look when their eyes met, his gaze focused on a spot on her cheek. He then raised his hand and wiped away a lingering tear she hadn’t realized was there.

  “I’m sorry that I failed to protect him,” Finley said.

  And although there was grief in his eyes, for the first time since Dave’s death there was also hope, as though he now believed deep down Zuma and he could move past this. That she could love him one day. But Finley’s words had reminded Zuma of what she’d allowed herself to forget for that brief moment while he held her. She didn’t fault him for failing to protect Dave, but rather for the fact that he withheld so much information that would have prevented Dave’s death.

  “I need to get dressed,” she said, her eyes on the closet door, her voice hollow.

  Finley took the hint and nodded, the hope falling from his eyes. “Yes, of course,” he said and made himself back away from her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Before Dave Raydon found Sunshine she had been confused. Her father had died when the girl was ten and he had never explained to her that she was a Dream Traveler who would one day have a certain gift or two. With no living relatives, she became a ward of the state. However, the girl never lasted in any of the foster homes. No one wanted the girl who played with fire and lied about it.

  Numerous times she’d been found as the only witness to a fire. And although matches or lighters were never discovered, the authorities always suspected the girl was responsible. She was obviously a pyromaniac who was excellent at disposing of evidence, they often thought.

  Sunshine never understood any of what happened enough to explain it to the social workers. Once she had told them the fire just appeared out of nowhere. Of course, no one believed the girl with hair as black as licorice and eyes as green as the first leaves of spring. And after a dozen homes, the state was running out of options for where to put Sunshine. No one wanted the melancholic pyromaniac. She had burned down two homes, destroyed multiple closets inside other homes, and countless pieces of furniture. Her only saving grace was she’d never burned another person, but that was for the simple fact that Sunshine didn’t like people and stayed away from them.

  But then Dave found her. He’d heard of the girl who was hard to place and Fanny and he had adopted her right away. The pale girl knew the moment she set her discerning eyes on Dave that he was a good man, and yet she wasn’t sure why she knew that with such certainty. The thing was, Sunshine still hadn’t come to understand her empathesis and didn’t realize that this was what was leading her decisions regarding Dave. The ringmaster’s emotions felt sincere to her. Pure. But she only understood that as she felt good about him. She had no idea the emotions she felt when around others were theirs and not hers.

  Sunshine had not only been delivered a rough hand as far as family went, but she also had the misfortune of coming into her gifts early. At age ten she had no idea why she felt strange emotions that didn’t seem like they could belong to her. And she was incredibly scared about the fire that shot out of her at random times, but most often it did when she was examining her own troubled emotions. But then Dave had put a comforting arm around her shoulder and led her out of the foster home. It was on their drive to Vagabond Circus that the ringmaster told her that she was a part of a race known as Dream Travelers. He also told her that he suspected she was empathic and pyrokinetic. With a twinkle in his light blue eyes he told her that if she wanted she could be a star in his circus, after she adjusted, of course.

  Sunshine didn’t hesitate with her answer and she was then named the youngest performer for Vagabond Circus. That was ten years ago and the girl was grateful that Dave couldn’t read emotions because then he would have known she was in love with him. She’d been in love with Dr. Raydon ever since that first day. The ringmaster rescued her and every day after that he sought to fix Sunshine. Dave taught her how to control her skills. Under his advisement Sunshine became confident with her powers, understanding how to use them effortlessly. And she knew it was strange to be in love with the older man, her rescuer, but she also prayed that one day he’d see her differently, feel differently about her. And for all ten years she read in his emotions that he felt fond of her, but had zero attraction accompanying his feelings. And now he was dead and any chance of a passionate romance with the ringmaster was too.

  Sunshine hadn’t slept or dream traveled the night after Dave’s death. She just lay in her trailer on the ground and cried, her tears rolling down into her black mane until it was soaked. She’d felt thousands of emotions from other people in her life and she was certain she’d never felt heartbreak like hers. And the worst part for Sunshine was if Dave was dead then her chances for love were too. There’s no way she could love a man the way she loved him.

  In the morning, she was exhausted from her lack of sleep and the heavy tears still plaguing her. Still she pushed to a standing position and strode out of her trailer. The sun somehow had managed to rise over Vagabond Circus, which surprised Sunshine. Without Dave, she was convinced they’d all live in blackness. She squinted as she exited and made her way to the big top. Right then the girl needed to feel closer to Dave and the big top was the place for that.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  When Zuma e
xited her closet she was the perfect portrait of composure. Finley even had to question his earlier memory of her, since the girl looked refreshed and well-tempered, a huge contrast to her previous fragile state. And she didn’t even pause her eyes on him as she strolled for her door, but she did stop in the entryway and threw a glance in his direction over her shoulder. “Well, let’s go grab something to eat downstairs,” she said casually, like this had already been discussed and decided upon.

  “I’m good,” Finley said, standing by the window. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans and his eyes cast on the lawn and pool in the backyard. It looked like the grounds of a country club he once robbed.

  A frustrated sigh spilled out of Zuma’s mouth. “You have to eat, so come on,” she said, her hands on her hips.

  She was right and he knew this, but the thought of casually heading down to the Zanders’ kitchen to grab a bite to eat made Finley sick. Worse was the memory of Zuma in his arms. He kept feeling it, over and over. And what followed the memory was the idea that he’d never hold her like that again. She’d been vulnerable and he’d been there at the right time, but that was unlikely to happen again. He watched a groundskeeper in the yard trim a topiary as he worried over how to respond to her. Before he had a well-constructed answer, Zuma was in front of him, a determined look on her face.

  “We have an important mission today, Finley,” she said, her voice strict. “I need you at your best, which means you’re going to eat and you’re going to snap out of this daze.” She then snapped her fingers in front of his face. “I want you present, not off worrying, unless you care to share those worries with me, which I suspect you don’t.”

  He unhurriedly brought his gaze to meet hers. Then he gave a lazy salute. “Yeah, fine. Eat and be present. Got it,” he said with zero conviction.