"Yes?"
"You understand, don't you?" He stroked back her hair and rested his hand on her neck.
His touch threatened to disarm her. She yearned to wrap her arms around him, beg him to change his mind about Rita, but knew she could not.
"Certainly," she lied, avoiding his eyes. After all Michael had no claims on her, she reminded herself. He'd never even said he loved her. Unmistakably, his caresses, his kisses had amounted to nothing more than overactive male hormones.
"Good." His thumb moved gently back and forth against her jaw. Instinctively she pulled away. "And one more thing. Don't say anything about this to the others yet, will you?"
"The other circus people?"
"Yes. Mom, too. Especially Mom."
"Why? They'll see the four of you practicing. It'll be obvious."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Everyone's usually too busy to pay that much attention."
"But what's the big secret, Michael?"
"I can't say. Not yet anyway. I've made a promise to Claudette. I gave my word to keep quiet."
"Can't you get out of it? The way you got out of your promise to her that day you met me at the airport?"
"I'm afraid not." He set his jaw. His face remained unreadable. "This promise is different."
* * *
Jessel and Stern continued to press on. To Lisa's relief, Diamond's sinus infection had been easily cured. After a big dose of antibiotics and a little extra tender, loving care, the liberty horse was soon back in center ring. Once again, Michael was right. Their time together was becoming increasingly rare. What was more, she sensed his growing preoccupation with whatever was bothering him. The few moments they did have together, he seemed troubled. Distracted. Even Estelle was ill-at-ease lately.
Lisa speculated that perhaps Estelle was struggling to shake off her own disappointment about Michael's sudden interest in Rita. That morning when Estelle had asked Lisa about her relationship with Michael, she'd been quick to give her stamp of approval.
Maybe, too, Estelle was worried Lisa would press her for details about what was going on. Yet, tempting as it was, Lisa promised herself she wouldn't do that. No, she wouldn't betray her friendship with Estelle by using her that way. Whatever it was, Lisa would have to discover it for herself.
Every moment possible, she lingered by the back stage door, especially late at night, to watch the Flying Figaros hard at practice. But each time she did, the hurt only burrowed deeper.
The troupe looked fabulous. Michael and Rita worked together in perfect harmony, almost as if they were made for each other. Maybe it was because he was not only a professional but also a gifted teacher. He seemed to know exactly what kind of help Rita needed and was the best one who could show her.
"When will Rita be ready to perform at the shows?" Lisa asked Michael every chance she could get. She hoped that once Rita's skills were up to par, perhaps they wouldn't need to practice so much.
But Michael's answer was always the same. "I can't say yet, Lisa. We need a little more time. The future's still too uncertain."
What future, she couldn't help thinking bitterly. The troupe's future? Or more to the point, Michael's future with Rita?
One night in Columbus, Ohio, while Jessell and Stern was packing for their next move and Michael and the troupe were busy at practice, Lisa started for the horses' tent to saddle up Ebony.
The mare was long overdue for a good run, Lisa decided, and truth was, Lisa needed some diversion too. Only three days remained until her evaluation. Her stomach was a tangle of nerves.
Yes, Lisa needed time again with Ebony. She would never tire of galloping into the night, the wind smarting her face, the clopping of Ebony's hoof beats, rhythmic and reassuring, beneath her. Now the anticipation buoyed her and helped compensate for the reality that she could no longer share this time with Michael.
Inside the shadowy tent, she squinted for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the portable overhead light. The stable boys had brought in fresh hay, feed, and water. The place looked clean with everything in order. Good thing they were doing such a great job, Lisa thought. Michael hadn't set foot here for over a week--at least not as far as she knew.
Immediately she heard a sound, a horse grunting. She strained her ears to hear better. It seemed to be coming from the farthermost corner where Ebony was tied.
She edged closer, then gasped at the sight that greeted her. Ebony lay on the ground rolling from side to side. Her face was tense. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Seeing Lisa, the horse made a feeble attempt to heave to her feet, then crumpled back down again. She let out another grunt and rolled over.
Every nerve in Lisa's body seemed to stand at alert. Colic! She and Doc Largent had treated a stallion with colic only weeks before Lisa had left Long Island. The horse had nearly died. Ebony showed all the classic symptoms.
"Don't you dare keep rolling!" Lisa cried, fighting back panic. She had to stop Ebony. Rolling could cause her intestine to twist, bursting a blood vessel. And if her intestines were already twisted, then rolling would only make it worse.
Hands trembling, Lisa unfastened the halter and coaxed Ebony into a standing position. No one else was around to help. Not any of the stable boys. Not even Hoshi.
With measured gait, she began walking the horse. Out from the tent and into the lot.
Lisa's mind raced. She needed to find Dr. Woodstock! She needed to find him fast! How long had Ebony been ill? Why hadn't anyone else found her?
But on second thought, she couldn't lay blame on the stable boys. It was Michael who was at fault. He'd made a promise to Ed Figaro. Ebony was Michael's responsibility. Clearly Michael had let his father down.
Lisa tugged at the horse's halter and quickened her pace, but Ebony stopped in her tracks and refused to go on. Her eyes were glazed over with pain. The sweat glistened on her hide, illuminated by the glare of a streetlight. Then the mare flopped down again and started to thrash.
"Come on, girl," Lisa pleaded. "Get up! Stay on your feet." Lisa caught sight of Walter as he jumped down from inside one of the semitrailers that hauled the elephants.
"Walter!" she hollered. "Come here! Quick!"
He rushed to meet her, then dropped his gaze to Ebony. "Oh, no!"
"Yes," Lisa puffed. "Colic, I suspect. Help me get Ebony up. We have to keep her walking." Together they urged the mare to her feet. "Have you seen Dr. Woodstock?" Lisa asked desperately.
"I talked with him about an hour ago. He and a few of the animal keepers were going to Hoshi's trailer. Today is Hoshi's birthday, and they're celebrating."
She thrust the halter into Walter's hand. "I need your help. Please don't let Ebony go down again! After I find Dr. Woodstock, I'll be right back!"
"You got it."
Lisa dashed off. The toe of her sneaker caught on a snag, and she nearly tripped. Righting herself, she kept running. In no time she arrived at Hoshi's trailer. The sounds of talking and laughter drifted from inside.
Someone was standing in the open doorway. Peering inside, Lisa realized, to her relief, it was the vet.
"Dr. Woodstock," she called. "Please! Come quickly!"
"What's the matter?" he asked, his voice fringed with irritation.
"It's Ebony! S-she's in a lot of pain! Sweating. Thrashing about. Colic...I think." Lisa stopped to try to catch her breath.
"What?" His mouth dropped open. "Colic, you say?"
"Yes...at least I suspect so. I found her alone about a half an hour ago...rolling. The stable boys...they were nowhere in sight. So I started walking her, then I found Walter. He's trying to keep her on her feet right now!"
Instantly the irritation melted from his face. "I'll take a look at her, Lisa! Right away."
"Yes, hurry!" As they broke into a fast stride, it suddenly dawned on her. For the first time, Dr. Woodstock had addressed her by her first name.
"The reason you couldn't find any of the stable boys was because most of them were with Hoshi," the vet exp
lained, three paces ahead of her. "It's a good thing Walter knew my whereabouts." The admiration in his voice was unmistakable. "Good work, Lisa. If a colicky horse isn’t kept walking, the consequences could prove fatal"
At the thought, Lisa shuddered. “I know that.” A swell of pride momentarily nudged away her fear for Ebony. Dr. Woodstock's praise was sincere, she could tell. He was no longer treating her like an outsider.
"We'll start treatment right away," he was saying. "First try to rule out any of the more serious possible causes."
"Like a twisted intestine?" she asked.
"That's right." He pursed his lips, then frowned.
"First we must give Ebony a shot into a vein in her neck to bring down any inflammation. If the intestine is indeed twisted, the medication might relax it sufficiently so it'll correct itself. I may need to do a rectal exam, too, and see if I can feel anything."
They found Walter walking Ebony at the spot where Lisa had left them. Immediately all three got to work. But after Dr. Woodstock had administered the injection and Ebony's condition hadn't improved, Lisa's hopes paled.
The vet snapped off his rubber gloves and shook his head. "Yep. Just as I feared. We don't dare wait any longer. I'll call ahead to the nearest equine surgical center. Walter, go fetch the stable boys. Have them line up a driver. Lisa, you stay here with Ebony."
Fresh fear gripped her. "She's going to need an operation?"
"Yes. The sooner, the better."
His confirmation hit Lisa like a death toll. In only minutes, Ebony would be loaded into a horse trailer and shipped off. Dear, beautiful, wonderful Ebony.
"May I go with her?" she pleaded. "Someone's going to have to keep her up till they get to the surgical center."
"No, you'd better stay. I might need your help in the event another emergency arises. Hoshi can ride along instead."
"Okay." She couldn't stop her hands from trembling. What if she never saw the mare again?
* * *
Lisa stood next to Dr. Woodstock watching the truck and horse trailer cart Ebony down the highway. The red tail lights grew dim, smaller, then faded into the darkness.
Tears swam before her eyes.
"Are you all right, my dear?" he asked. "Would you like me to stay with you for a while?"
Backhanding a tear that had escaped down her cheek, she sent him a tremulous smile. "Thanks. I'll be fine. I...I just need to be alone for awhile. I'll be good as new after I get some sleep."
"If you change your mind, let me know. I'll probably be up late doing paperwork anyway." All traces of gruffness had disappeared from his voice.
"Yes. Thanks again. Goodnight, Dr. Woodstock."
"Sleep well, Lisa."
She turned slowly on her heel and started for the tight cluster of RVs. As she walked along, her gaze swept the deserted grounds. All was quiet except for an occasional screech of a monkey, the sound of an elephant trumpeting. Trunks, equipment, and props lay stored in trucks and trailers, waiting for the next morning's departure.
Without Ebony.
Ebony, Lisa silently pleaded. Please come back. Please don't die. She licked at another salty tear, suddenly aware she was covered with goose-flesh.
The sound of approaching footsteps stopped her. She looked up.
"Michael!" Indignation flared. He'd missed it all! Throughout the entire crisis, he'd been no where around.
"I heard they took Ebony." His voice was filled with fear and regret. "I heard it's serious."
"You bet it's serious!" she said hotly. "So serious Ebony might die.” She swallowed against the knot in her throat. "I...I found her alone...alone and thrashing on the ground. Ebony's got colic, the worst kind..."
He let out a low groan. "Oh, no. Pop lost another horse to colic, about this time last year."
"It's all your fault, Michael! If you'd been taking care of Ebony like you promised your father, this would've never happened."
"Wait a minute!" His jaw dropped. "You're blaming me for what happened to Ebony?" He reached down to grasp her shoulders, but she jerked back.
"Who else?"
"Look, Lisa! Even if I had checked on Ebony earlier tonight, I can't be there every minute with her. Maybe she would've gotten sick after I left. Maybe--"
"That's not the point. The point is you shirked your responsibility."
His eyes sparked with anger. "Don't be so darn smug. You just happened to walk in on Ebony at exactly the right time. That's all."
She had to look away. "Admit it, Michael. Lately you've been so wrapped up in practicing, wrapped up in Rita, Ebony's been the last thing on your mind."
Lisa blinked, amazed at the spite she heard in her voice. Yet she couldn't help it. The anger, the jealousy...it'd been building for too long.
"You promised your father you wouldn't let anything happen to Ebony," she continued. "But now it has. All because of you and Rita. How are you going to explain when your father finds out?"
"Let's leave Rita out of this. And stop getting hysterical. Ebony's different. She's not going to die."
Lisa felt like throttling him. Why couldn't he come to grips with reality? His denial--not only of his responsibility towards Edward Figaro's best show horse, but now the possible consequences of her illness--was infuriating.
"Fine then," she said bluntly. Whatever you say, Michael. I won't bring up Rita again. Goodnight." Wheeling around, she stalked off.
"Lisa, wait! Don't leave!" He sprinted after her, but she kept walking. "Let's talk. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said about your getting hysterical. I was just trying to--"
"Don't follow me," she tossed back, cutting him off.
"But why? Can't we at least talk?"
"I'm through talking to you, Michael! Your apologies won't mean squat when Ebony's dead and gone!"
Chapter Nine
“Dr. Woodstock! Are you there?" Lisa stepped inside the veterinarian clinic the following morning and looked around. Jessell and Stern had finished setting up on the sprawling county fairgrounds outside a small town in Indiana.
"Hello, Lisa." He smiled, lifted his lab coat off the hook on the door and shrugged into it. "There's a fresh pot of coffee on. Help yourself."
"Thanks. I will." She poured a cup of the strong hot brew and sipped gratefully. Exhausted, she could hardly think straight. The remainder of the night she'd slept fitfully, tossing and turning--thinking about Ebony, thinking about Michael.
All night long, her quarrel with Michael had played through her mind. She'd lashed out in frustration and fear, she knew. This wasn't the first time she'd regretted her impulsive behavior. Yet Michael was responsible for part of the blame, she quickly reminded herself. Some of her accusations had been true.
"Have you heard anything about Ebony?" she asked the veterinarian. She looked up at him over the brim of her coffee mug and searched his face.
"Yes. I phoned the surgical center a little while ago."
Lisa sucked in a deep breath. "And?"
"And the news is good." He smiled as he picked up a blue ceramic mug from the counter and filled it with coffee. "Incredibly good."
"Oh, thank goodness!"
"Yes, I couldn't agree more. I talked with the vet who performed the surgery, a Dr. Fairfield, I believe. She said the intestine was badly contorted, but Ebony pulled through better than expected."
Lisa didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Gosh, Dr. Woodstock! You'll never know how worried I've been."
He patted her shoulder, his smile growing wider. "Don't be too sure about that, my dear. Your worry showed."
"I'll get the word out to the stable boys and keepers right away," she volunteered. "I'm sure everyone else will want to know." She paused as a new thought intruded. "What about the Figaros? Have they heard yet?"
"Michael has, but I'm not sure about the rest of the family. He stopped by to ask about Ebony nearly an hour ago."
"Was he upset?"
"Terribly. He appeared nearly beside himself...that is, till I coul
d calm him down long enough to pass on the good news."
Serves him right, she thought. But even if Michael's remorse had been sincere, surely he'd already absolved himself, put the horse completely out of his mind, and hurried back to Rita.
Last night while she lay awake she'd determined exactly what she must do. If Ebony did survive, Lisa would stay long enough to be assured of her successful recovery, then turn in her resignation. Day after tomorrow, her probation was up anyway.
Most likely she'd have to work two jobs to pull herself out of debt, but somehow she'd find a way. She'd struggle through whatever sacrifices were necessary to cloister herself from more heartache. Fat chance Michael would try to come after her--regardless of what Claudette had thought in the beginning.
"Lisa, before we get to work, may I have a word with you?" Dr. Woodstock's voice broke though her troubled thoughts.
"Uh...sure."
He pulled out a ladder-back chair from behind his desk.
It screeched against the tiled floor. "Please make yourself comfortable."
Hesitantly she sat down. From behind the desk, an old transistor radio played.
The vet paused to turn the volume down, then hitched himself onto a stool across from her. "I know I've been kind of tough on you, but as I'm sure you've discovered, this work is not for the faint-hearted."
"Yes, I certainly have." She lifted one shoulder. "But I wasn't totally blind, Dr. Woodstock. Even in the beginning, I never expected a bed of roses. I was just a little naive as to exactly how hard it would be." A woman's lilting voice on the radio was announcing the weather forecast.
"Good." He clasped his hands behind his head and pursed his lips. "Then at least you didn't come here with any false expectations. Perhaps you already know that the other two assistants I hired this past year didn't work out. They both left voluntarily."
"Uh-huh, I heard."
"They were young, lacking experience with zoo and circus animals--just like you," he continued. He studied her for a long, contemplative moment, then readjusted his dark- framed glasses. "And as far as I'm concerned, there's no point waiting any longer to talk about your work here."
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