Vagabond Circus Series Boxed Set

by Sarah Noffke

Paralyzed. Titus felt paralyzed as he stood in the center of the big top, a hundred eyes on him. Vagabond Circus could have had the memorial service at a church. They could have even done it outside or at a hotel conference room. However, Titus knew what Dave would have wanted. In all things he knew what Dave wanted, but still he had trouble making decisions. It was the logical side of himself that Titus had lost in all this grief. That was the part of Titus that partnered with Dave’s emotional side and made sound decisions. Now he was at a loss for the practicality of life. Everything was bright colors, loud sounds, and an emotional blur. He was alive in the world he thought Dave lived in full-time. That was what his grief had done to him. It had transported Titus into Dave’s world.

  The tight collar of Titus’s stiff shirt pressed into his esophagus. It had been many years since he had a reason to wear a suit. His niece’s wedding was probably the last time, he thought. Was that also the last night he’d spent away from the circus? He’d blocked out the memory. Blocked out anything that didn’t have the backdrop of the big top in it.

  Sweat slipped down Titus’s long forehead and sat on his eyelids, threatening to drip through his short lashes and into his eyes. He pulled the teal blue handkerchief from his breast pocket. He thought it would have been used for someone else’s tears that evening as he wiped it across his brow. It was especially humid for a late autumn day in southern Oregon.

  Titus cleared his throat. Just give Dave what he would have wanted, he thought. Titus closed his eyes. Honest words from the heart.

  “Don’t give people what they want, give them what they need,” Titus began in a low voice. “Those were words Dave had written on a piece of paper and taped on the inside of his laptop. And I may have known him better than anyone and I can tell you he lived his life that way. He lived his life by those words.” Titus laughed. It was a cold ironic chuckle, his eyes on the audience, not really seeing them. “In every way that man, Dr. Dave Raydon, gave me what I needed. He gave me a downright-honest-to-God challenge.” Another chuckle slipped out of his mouth, this one marking his eyes with a bitter fondness. “Dave could have told me what everyone else did. ‘Hey, your accounting job will work out.’ ‘Hang in there.’ ‘Don’t give up.’ That’s what most everyone told me over twenty years ago. Most therapists would have told me to find a hobby. Dave, however, told me to quit my job. He told me to quit being a wimp and join him in the scariest venture that could very well be doomed to fail. Dave told me if I didn’t join him that I’d regret it and die alone in a job I hated.”

  Titus dropped his eyes to the podium that held the notes he wasn’t using. When he brought his gaze up he was smiling. It was a rare thing to see on the man’s face. “That was exactly what I needed to hear. And every day since, Dave gave me a challenge that overwhelmed my thoughts and pushed me past limits I never thought I’d reach. And I have never been more rewarded than since I took on those challenges. Dr. Dave Raydon gave me what I needed in life. He pushed me to take a risk.”

  A crew member in the back row blew their nose, filling the short moment of silence in Titus’s speech.

  “And Sunshine,” the creative director said, looking at the girl. For a rare occasion she had her black hair out of her face and off her shoulders. It was arranged into a high bun which accentuated her sharp porcelain white cheekbones. “Dave could have given you a few years to get acclimated to circus life, but he didn’t. The ringmaster assigned you your very own act two days after adopting you.”

  From fifteen feet away, Titus could see Sunshine’s jaw flexing as she pressed her teeth together, and her face grew gradually redder. “To some that might have seemed presumptuous. However, Dave gave you want you needed. He gave you something to own, a job to be yours, a way for you to funnel your talent and distract your heart until it was ready to be mended.”

  Titus paused. Sucked in a breath. Then he rotated his eyes on the woman in the front row. “And Fanny, you’ve been a nurse for three decades. You’re a world renowned healer. That was the obvious role for you at Vagabond Circus, but Dave asked that it be your secondary role. He gave you what you needed.” Titus hesitated, holding the older woman’s periwinkle eyes. She smiled at him as a tear took a haphazard path down her face.

  “Dave gave you kids,” Titus said, his voice suddenly hoarse. He cleared his throat and looked to the back of the tent, his eyes hovering just over the crowd. “Bill, he assigned you to the grill where you learned you had a passion to create culinary masterpieces. Ian, he put you on rig crew where you could work with your hands and ignore your head for once. Every single person under this big top has that one thing Dave gave them. I know it because I know that man. He didn’t grant one person one thing while ignoring another. Dave loved all of you.” Titus then forced himself to focus his eyes on several people, taking in their grieved expressions. “All of you. Every single one of you has been given something you needed by Dr. Dave Raydon. He hardly slept trying to meet your needs.”

  Again Titus laughed, but this one brought a sharp set of tears to his throat and then his eyes. “And you know, I never completely got it. How could one man care about so many, wanting what was inherently good for them? I watched him for twenty years, in awe that a heart so big could beat inside such a short man.” Another laugh, but this one was shared with many of the audience members. “Today we remember the man who started Vagabond Circus. And that accomplishment might be what Dave is most remembered for, but I want all of you to specifically remember him for what he individually gave you. Today we remember the man who brought magic back to this world by lighting a spark in all of you. You are all his legacy. You are the magic of Vagabond Circus.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Jack wouldn’t allow Finley and Zuma to stay with him that night. Even Finley tried to send Zuma home, stating he’d be happy to keep Jack company at the hospital. However, the paralyzed acrobat had refused. Jack stated he’d get his fill the next day during the long car ride and wanted some peace and alone time beforehand. It surprised Finley that Jack had already constructed a mask and was wearing it over his pain.

  Zuma and Finley returned to her house to find the smells of garlic and cilantro wafting through the kitchen.

  “I thought we’d have a fiesta since it’s your last night here for a while,” her mother said as she chopped an onion and tossed it into a pan.

  Zuma laid her head on her arms which were draped across the counter bar. “My friend has just learned he’s paralyzed. I don’t really feel like partying,” she said.

  Finley sat beside her, holding his own head up, but only barely. Emotions and exhaustion were starting to threaten his ability to operate normally.

  “But he’s alive, Zuma,” Samara said. “So don’t you see, there is still something to celebrate.”

  “He can’t walk, Mom,” Zuma shot back, whipping her head up.

  “I realize that, Z,” her mother said, sympathy strong in her tone. “But this is part of Jack’s journey. Is it a clear or unobstructed path? No. But Jack will make his way and this has the potential to bring him great growth and maybe fulfillment in ways he never would have considered.” She laid down the knife and looked at her daughter, her eyes earnest. “Because, sweetheart, I have to believe that what has happened to Jack is unfortunate, but it is for the best.”

  “I wonder if he can still perform adequately down there,” Dakota said, her eyes on the ceiling while her mind really considered the question.

  “Dakota!” Zuma said, turning and slapping her sister’s arm. “Do you ever think of anything but that? Show a little respect.”

  “Hey, I have lots of respect. I’d totally do a cripple,” her sister said, like bragging on a charitable act she’d done.

  Zuma dropped her head back into her arms. She listened to her mother chop and Dakota move out of her seat. And then she sensed her sister just behind Finley.

  “So, Mr. Hottie, how about that massage? I give you one and you give me one,” Dakota said, her voice singsong. Zu
ma raised her head in time to catch her sister wrapping her fingers around Finley’s shoulders.

  “Hands off him,” Zuma snapped, heat in her voice.

  Dakota threw her hands up and looked at her sister, a naughty glint in her eyes. “Oh, have you suddenly laid claim to this one now?” she said, sounding amused.

  Zuma threw her a seething glance and then relayed a few choice messages across a telepathic link to her little sister.

  “Oh fine then, you can have him,” Dakota said, slinking off to the other side of the kitchen.

  Finley shot Zuma a speculative look. “Did you two just have a little chat?”

  She nodded at him. “Yeah, and I think my sister might actually leave you alone now.”

  “I might. And I might not,” Dakota said, winking at Finley. “Well, Mom, I think if Finley and Zuma are an item now then he better stay in my room.”

  Samara turned around from the stove, stirring something. “Kota, you know what I’m going to say?”

  “That I should fetch some clean sheets for my bed?” the younger sister said, a hint of hope in her voice.

  Her mother shook her head. “I’m going to remind you that it’s not my job to dictate what my children do after Dream Travel age. You all have a moral compass and I trust you to employ it. If Zuma wants Finley to stay in her room then she’s wise enough to make that decision.”

  “And if she doesn’t want him to stay in her room?” Dakota said, her voice artificially high.

  “Well, since there’s no guest rooms, then yes, he can stay with you,” Samara said, turning back to the stove.

  Dakota shot a pleading glare at her sister.

  “Not on your life, Dakota. Finley stays with me,” Zuma said.

  Finley found it very strange that this whole conversation was taking place in front of him. He actually felt like he didn’t have a choice and his fate was being decided by a bunch of females who spoke about him like he wasn’t present. And he suspected there was a whole other conversation going on inside the girls’ heads.

  Dakota sighed melodramatically. “Mom, I don’t think this free parenting works anymore. We need to protect Zuma’s honor.”

  Samara, who had emancipated herself from her own mother at an early age, believed in free choice. That’s how she and Matteo had always parented.

  “My honor is not the one in question, Dakota,” Zuma said. “And might I recommend to you that you start asking your personal shopper to buy you clothes in your actual size and not one size too small.”

  Not deterred, Dakota turned and lifted her skirt at her sister, flashing the whole kitchen her entire backside. Zuma reached out and covered Finley’s eyes with her hand.

  Samara pursed her lips and shook her head, dismissing the gesture entirely. “Oh, and Z,” her mother said, her gaze now back on her older daughter, “Mrs. Fuller called to welcome us to the family.”

  Zuma dropped her head. “Yeah, about that…”

  “Whatever possessed you to tell such a lie?” Samara asked.

  “Jack’s parents were belittling him and Keith was being…well, his usual repugnant self,” she said.

  “That’s sweet and all that you were trying to help Jack, but do you really think that it’s productive?” her mother said, her head to the side, awaiting her daughter’s answer.

  “They were going to put him in a nursing home, Mom.”

  “I know how the Fullers are,” Samara said. “But that’s no reason to lie. That’s on you now.”

  “Making my friend look better in front of his snobbish family is every reason to lie,” Zuma said.

  “And how do you think it made Finley feel when you had to go along with this lie?” her mother said.

  “You all do realize I’m here, right?” Finley said, looking at Samara and then Zuma.

  They both ignored him, their focus on each other. Zuma dismissed the questions with a wave. “He was fine with it.”

  “I wasn’t actually,” Finley said to no effect.

  “Telling lies will only create bigger problems for you and Jack. So although I know your heart was in the right place, I fear you’ve only made things more complicated for his family life,” Samara said.

  “It’s not that big of a deal,” Zuma said, shaking her head at her mother.

  “Oh, really? Eva has hired a wedding planner. And she’ll probably have your entire registry done by tomorrow morning,” Samara said.

  Zuma’s mouth dropped open. “But she’s mad at Jack. She was furious when she left the hospital. And she’d just found out her son is paralyzed. How could she have done all that already?”

  Samara leveled her gray eyes at her daughter. “She’s Eva Fuller. There’s nothing more important to her than planning other people’s lives. It doesn’t matter how she feels about Jack or what’s happened to him. Actually, to her, announcing this engagement is the perfect way to deflect from his handicap. I think she’ll make an even bigger deal about it than she would have otherwise.”

  “Bigger deal?” Zuma said, trying to swallow and failing.

  “The engagement announcements will go out tomorrow,” Samara said firmly.

  “Oh, shit,” Zuma said, dropping her head back into her arms.

  “Oh, shit is right,” Samara said. “Like I said, telling lies is never acceptable, no matter the reason.”

  “Ewww,” Dakota said from the other side of the kitchen. “What are you going to do, Mom? People are going to start asking you questions. You’ll be bombarded.”

  Her mother stuck her hand on her hip. “I’m not doing a damn thing. This is Zuma’s problem. She makes her choices. She deals with the consequences.”

  Zuma pulled her head up, her eyes hollow with dread. “Right. Free choice parenting. Thanks for the support, Mom.”

  “Sooo, what are you going to do, Zuma?” Dakota said, her voice eager.

  “I guess I’m going to marry Jack,” she said, her voice dead.

  “You’re going to what?!” Finley said, slamming his palm down on the counter between them.

  Zuma brought her gaze slowly to meet his, and never before had she looked so dazed to him. “I have to. I can’t go back on it now, not if Eva is making it so public.”

  “You could call her right now and tell her the engagement is off,” Finley said, surprised by how his heart was suddenly racing in his chest.

  “I can’t though. How would it look if I broke off the engagement after finding out he was paralyzed? Everyone would think I was awful,” Zuma said, already having considering all her options.

  “Since when do you care what other people think?” Finley asked.

  “Well, I don’t care what people think of the things I actually do, but to have them judge me for something I’d never do, that’s a different story. People will think I’m a heartless bitch,” Zuma said with a shiver.

  “But you and Jack can’t be together. It’s against Vagabond Circus rules,” Finley said, frantic to find a way out of this for Zuma.

  “And Jack won’t be in the circus anymore. He’s paralyzed,” Zuma said, shaking her head. “There’s no reason we can’t be married.”

  “You see what a small lie has done?” Samara said, her tone matter-of-fact. “It can’t be so easily undone as you thought.”

  Zuma nodded and then looked back at Finley. “But hey, it’s just a marriage for show, so don’t worry.”

  “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm,” Dakota said, like she’d just tasted something delicious. “Oh, Finley, you get to be Zuma’s secret lover. How romantic.”

  He huffed. “Yeah, just what I always wanted,” he said, a bitter humor in his voice.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  After Titus’s speech at the memorial service, most had red puffy eyes and glistening faces. Most, but not Padmal. She sat crossed-armed and looking bored beside a sobbing Oliver. He had his head down, hands gripping his Mohawk. The girl wouldn’t have even attended the ceremony if it wasn’t for Oliver. He’d asked her to attend for his sake. But the truth was th
e boy knew that Padmal would create a circus full of enemies if she wasn’t there to show her respect. The only members of Vagabond Circus not there were the acrobats, and their whereabouts were still a mystery to most. And Oliver knew that Padmal didn’t really care about creating enemies. She cared what other people thought about her like a dying man cares how much money is in his bank account. However, Oliver felt that Padmal’s animosity was finally starting to create a wedge between them. Being angry at the ringmaster for irrational reasons when he was alive was one thing. But now Dave was dead and the girl had yet to show an ounce of compassion for the people who grieved him or to show the slightest bit of respect to a man who had lived a great life. He was the owner and ringmaster of the most fantastic show in the world. Oliver thought that deserved some credit, even if begrudgingly. However, Padmal had no indication of softening toward the dead man.

  After the ceremony Padmal disappeared to her trailer without a word to anyone. Most had stayed in the big top to exchange hugs and memories.

  An hour after the ceremony Haady and Nabhi returned to the trailer they shared with their sister. She was lying on her bed, thumbing through a magazine. The trailer, like most at Vagabond Circus, only had one bedroom and Padmal had insisted it go to her, since she was the girl. The brothers didn’t argue and had slept without complaint on the sofa and trundle bed for all these years. Haady and Nabhi ducked into the trailer, always careful not to bang their skinny heads on the short trailer door frame.

  Following behind his brother, Nabhi headed to the back of the trailer. The bedroom was big enough only for a bed and a few belongings. One brother sat on the corner of the bed and the other leaned in the door frame. Padmal looked up when Haady jostled her as he sat on the far side of her king-sized bed.

  “Excuse me,” she said, firing an angry expression at him and then Nabhi. “I didn’t say you could come into my personal space,” she said.

  Nabhi tightened his lips together, pinching his words away. Haady and Nabhi had not ever had a personal space. He didn’t even know what this luxury was like, but their sister knew. Soon she would request her own trailer and then they could be rid of her… mostly.