The Novels of Nora Roberts Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  All he needed was for prune-faced Rox to get some incurable disease, or have a tragic accident. If she was out of the picture, he could slip right in and take her place.

  “Roxanne,” Max said patiently, interrupting Luke’s thoughts. “You’re not paying attention.”

  “I am too.” Her lip poked out; her eyes filled. She hated being cooped up in this hot old tent.

  “Max,” said Lily, coming up to the stage. “Maybe we should give her a break.”

  “Lily.” Max was struggling to keep his temper.

  “I’m tired of rehearsing,” Roxanne continued, lifting her flushed, miserable face. “I’m tired of the trailer, and the show and everything. I want to go back to Allentown and see Tessie and Trudie.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Her words had wounded Max’s pride and opened up a hole for guilt to seep into. “If you don’t want to perform, that will be your choice. But if I can’t depend on you, I’ll have to replace you.”

  “Max!” Appalled, Lily took a step forward, only to freeze in place when Max held up a hand.

  “As my daughter,” he continued while a single tear trickled down Roxanne’s cheek, “you’re entitled to as many temper tantrums as you like. But as my employee, you will rehearse when rehearsals are called. Is that understood?”

  Roxanne’s head dropped. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “All right then. Now, why don’t we take a moment to regroup. Dry your face,” he began and tucked a hand under her chin. “I want you to . . .” He trailed off and pressed his palm to her brow. His stomach took a nosedive to his knees and froze there. “She’s burning up,” he said in an odd voice. “Lily.” And the Great Nouvelle, Conjurer Extraordinaire, looked toward his lover helplessly. “She’s ill.”

  “Oh, little lamb.” Instantly, Lily was on her knees, checking for fever herself. Roxanne’s brow was hot and clammy under her hand. “Baby, does your head hurt? Your stomach?”

  Two big tears plopped on the stage floor. “I’m okay. It’s just hot in here. I’m not sick, I want to rehearse. Don’t let Daddy replace me.”

  “Oh, that’s nonsense.” Lily’s busy fingers were checking for swollen glands. “No one could replace you.” Tucking Roxanne’s head on her shoulder, Lily looked up at Max. He was white as a sheet. “I think we should go into town and find a doctor.”

  Speechless, Luke watched Max carry a weeping Roxanne away. His fondest wish had come true, he realized. The brat was sick. Maybe she even had the plague. Heart thumping, he raced out of the tent and watched the plume of dust as the truck raced off.

  She might die before they even got into town. That thought brought on a shiver of panic that was followed hard on the heels by a hideous guilt. She’d looked awfully small when Max had carried her out.

  “Where’d they go?” Mouse demanded, puffing a bit as he’d raced over when he’d heard his beloved engine start.

  “Doctor.” Luke bit down hard on his lip. “Roxanne’s sick.”

  Before Mouse could ask any more questions, Luke dashed away. He hoped if there really was a God He’d believe he hadn’t really meant it.

  It was two terrifying hours later before the truck returned from town. As it pulled in, Luke started toward it, but his heart stopped when he saw Max take a limp Roxanne from Lily’s arms and walk with her toward the trailer.

  “Is she . . .” His throat closed on the “D” word.

  “Sleeping.” Lily gave him a distracted smile. “I’m sorry, Luke, you better run along now. We’ll be busy for a while.”

  “But—but—” He got his feet moving and dogged Lily to the trailer. “Is she, I mean . . .”

  “It’ll be rough for a few days, but once the crisis passes, she’ll do.”

  “Crisis?” His voice was a croak. Jesus please us, it was the plague.

  “It’s so miserably hot, too,” she murmured. “Well, we’ll make her as comfortable as we can while it lasts.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” Luke blurted out. “I swear I didn’t mean to make her sick.”

  Though her mind was elsewhere, Lily paused at the door. “You didn’t, honey. Actually, I suspect Roxy got more from Trudie and Tessie than a vow of endless friendship.” She smiled as she stepped inside. “Looks like she got a bonus of the chicken pox.”

  Luke’s mouth dropped open as Lily closed the door in his face.

  Chicken pox? He’d practically died of fright, and all the little brat had was the damn chicken pox?

  “I can do it.” Luke stood stubbornly in center stage, scowling as Max continued to manipulate the cards. “I can do anything she can do.”

  “You’re far from ready to perform.” Max set the cards on the folding table, did a flashy turnover.

  It had been three days since Roxanne had been put to bed, hot, itchy and miserable. And at every opportunity during that time span, Luke had been singing the same tune.

  “You just have to show me what to do.” He’d badgered Mouse to teach him the oversized-hat trick, and had run headlong into a wall of insurmountable loyalty. “I heard you tell Lily that there’s a hole in the act with Roxanne sick. And she won’t be able to be in the show for at least ten more days.”

  Toying with the idea of adding a bit of close-up conjuring to offset Roxanne’s absence, Max began to set up a variation of Aces High. “Your concern for her health is touching, Luke.”

  His color rose as he jammed his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t make her sick.” He was almost sure of that now. “And it’s just the chicken pox.”

  Dissatisfied with the sleight of hand, Max set the cards aside. The boy had a sturdy mind, Max mused, and could be trusted with something as basic as the oversized hat.

  “Come here.” Luke took a step forward; when his gaze clashed with Max’s, something in the man’s eyes made Luke suppress a shudder. “Swear,” Max said, his voice deep and commanding in the dusty tent. “Swear by all you are and all you will be that you will never reveal any of the secrets of the art that are shown to you.”

  Luke wanted to grin, to remind Max that it was only a trick after all. But he couldn’t. There was something here bigger than he could imagine. When he could speak, his voice was a whisper. “I swear.”

  Max took another moment to study Luke’s face, then nodded. “Very well. This is what I want you to do.”

  It was so simple really. When Luke discovered how remarkably simple it all was he was amazed that he, or anyone else, could have been duped. He hated to admit it to himself, and refused to admit it to Max, but now that he knew how Roxanne had become the rabbit, how she had disappeared from under the cape, he was a little sorry.

  Max gave him no time to grieve over the loss of innocence. They worked, repeating the sequence for more than an hour. Perfecting the timing, choreographing each move, removing bits of business that had suited Roxanne and replacing them with some that fit Luke.

  It was tiring work, unbelievably monotonous, but Max refused to accept anything less than perfection.

  “How come you go through all this for a bunch of hicks? For a lousy buck they’d be satisfied with a couple of card tricks and a rabbit in a hat.”

  “I wouldn’t. Perform for yourself first, and you will always do your best work.”

  “But you, with the stuff you can do, you don’t have to be in a two-bit carnival.”

  Max’s lips curved under his finger as he smoothed his moustache. “Your compliment, however ill phrased, is appreciated. It’s a mistake to believe anyone has to be anywhere they don’t choose to be. I find a certain pleasure in the gypsy’s life. And, as you are obviously unaware, I own this two-bit carnival.”

  He swung his cape over Luke, snapped his fingers twice, then chuckled when the shape under the black material stayed in place. “A good magician’s assistant never misses a cue, however distracted he might be.”

  There was a quick huff of breath from under the cape, and the shape dissolved. Far from displeased with Luke’s progress, Max thought the boy would do. H
e would use Luke’s cockiness, his hunger and defiance, along with that underlying vulnerability. He would use all that Luke was, and in turn he would give the boy a home, and a chance to choose.

  A fair bargain, Max considered. “Again,” he said simply as Luke stepped onto the stage from the wings.

  After another hour, Luke wondered why he’d wanted to be a part of the act in the first place. When Lily walked into the tent he was on the verge of telling Max exactly what he could do with his magic wand.

  “I know I’m late,” she began as she hurried forward. “Everything’s running behind today.”

  “Roxanne?”

  “Hot and cranky, but bearing up.” Worry creased Lily’s brow as she looked over her shoulder. “I hate leaving her alone. Everyone’s tied up right now, so I . . . Luke.” Instantly Lily’s brow cleared. “Honey, you’d be doing me such a huge favor if you’d go sit with her for an hour or so.”

  “Me?” She might as well have asked him to eat toads.

  “She could really use the company. It takes her mind off the itching.”

  “Well, yeah, but . . .” Inspiration hit. “I’d like to, but Max needs me to rehearse.”

  “Rehearse?”

  No mentalist could have read Luke’s mind more clearly. Max smiled, setting a friendly hand on the boy’s shoulder. Progress, he thought briefly. Luke had tensed at the touch only for a moment. “Meet the newest member of our happy crew,” he said to Lily. “Luke’s going to fill in tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Alerted, Luke swung about so he faced Max.

  “Just tonight? I haven’t been sweating through all this practice for one night.”

  “That remains to be seen. If you do well tonight, there’ll be tomorrow night. It’s what we call a probationary period. In any case, we’ve rehearsed enough for the moment, so you’re quite free to entertain Roxanne.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he leaned toward the boy. “You gambled against the house again, Luke. You lose.”

  “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with her,” Luke muttered as he clumped offstage. Lily sighed at his language.

  “Play a game with her,” she suggested. “And, honey, I really wish you wouldn’t swear around Roxy.”

  Fine, he thought and continued out of the shadowy tent into the white flash of sunlight. He wouldn’t swear around her. He’d swear at her.

  He tugged open the trailer door and headed straight for the refrigerator. The impulse to check over his shoulder as he reached for a cold drink was still strong. Luke always expected someone to leap out and smack him for taking food.

  No one did. But he was still faintly embarrassed by his actions during the first week with Max. He’d come into the trailer alone and found a big bowl of leftover spaghetti. He’d wolfed it down cold, stuffing himself, the memory of so many hungry days clawing at him.

  He’d waited to be punished. Waited to be told he could have nothing more for a day, or even two. As his mother had done to him so many times. Preparing for it, he’d secreted candy bars and sandwiches into his knapsack.

  But he hadn’t been punished. No one had mentioned it.

  Not one to press his luck, Luke wrapped a piece of bread around some lunch meat and gulped down the makeshift sandwich before going back to Roxanne.

  He moved quietly, another habit he’d developed out of necessity. As he started down the narrow hallway, he could hear Jim Croce’s sly ballad of Leroy Brown. Roxanne sang along with the radio, adding a warbling soprano.

  Amused, Luke peeked in the doorway. She was lying flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling as the radio played beside her. A small round table beside the bed held a pitcher of juice and a glass along with some bottles of medication and a deck of cards.

  Someone had tacked posters to the walls. Most were magic-related, but the glossy one of David Cassidy made Luke want to puke. It only proved girls were hopeless.

  “Man, that’s gross.”

  Roxanne shifted her eyes and spotted him. She nearly smiled, that desperate was she for diversion. “What’s gross?”

  “That.” He gestured toward the poster with his Coke. “Hanging that pussy teenybopper star on your wall.”

  Satisfied with the jibe, Luke gulped down Coke as he studied her. Her white skin was blotchy, spotted with ugly red sores. They were all over her face, too, which Luke thought was really gross. He wondered how Lily and Max could stand to look at her.

  “Boy oh boy, you got that shit all over, don’t you? Makes you look like something out of ‘Creature Feature.’ ”

  “Lily says they’ll go away soon and I’ll be beautiful.”

  “They’ll probably go away,” he said, tingeing his voice with enough doubt to make Roxanne’s brow crease with worry. “But you’ll still be ugly.”

  She forgot all about the horrible itching on her stomach and pushed herself to a sitting position. “I hope I give you the chicken pox. I hope you get spots all over—even on your weenie.”

  Luke choked on his drink, then grinned. “Tough break. I had them already. Chicken pox is for babies.”

  “I’m not a baby.” Nothing could have infuriated her more. Before Luke could dodge, she leaped up and launched herself at him, fists hammering. His Coke bottle flew, hitting the wall and spraying Coke everywhere. It would have been funny, in fact he let out one bray of laughter before it struck him how frail she was. Her arms were like little burning sticks.

  “Okay, okay.” Because he figured he’d had one close call with wishing her dead, he didn’t want to take a chance on giving her some kind of seizure. “You’re not a baby. Now get back into bed.”

  “I’m tired of bed.” But she stumbled back into it, prompted by his not so gentle shove.

  “Well, tough. Shit, look at this mess. I guess I have to clean it up.”

  “Your fault,” she said and, prim-mouthed, looked determinedly out of the window, an old woman’s pose in a child’s body. Grumbling all the way, Luke went off to find a rag.

  After he’d mopped up the spill she continued to ignore him. As strategies went, it was inspired.

  He shifted from foot to foot. “Look, I took it back, didn’t I?”

  Her face turned a fraction in his direction, but the ice didn’t thaw. “Are you sorry you said I was ugly?”

  “I guess I could be.”

  Silence.

  “Okay, okay. Jeez. I’m sorry I said you were ugly.”

  The faintest hint of a smile. “And you’re sorry you said David Cassidy was gross.”

  Now he grinned. “No way.”

  Her lips curved in response. “I guess that’s okay, since you’re just a boy.” The small taste of power had been pleasant. Hoping to milk it, Roxanne widened the smile. Even at eight, there was power in it. She was, after all, her father’s daughter. “Would you pour me some juice?”

  “I guess.”

  He poured some from pitcher to glass and handed it to her.

  “You don’t talk very much,” she said after a bit.

  “You talk too much.”

  “I have lots to say. Everyone says I’m very bright.” She was also horribly bored. “We could play a game, if you’d like.”

  “I’m too old for games.”

  “No, you’re not. Daddy says no one ever is. That’s why people get suckered into Three Card Monte or the Cups and Balls on street corners and lose their money.” She caught the brief flicker of interest on his face and pounced. “If you play Go Fish with me, I’ll teach you a card trick.”

  Luke hadn’t survived to the age of twelve without knowing how to bargain. “Teach me the card trick, and then I’ll play.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Her smile was smug, a younger, only slightly more innocent version of a woman’s who knew she’d trapped her man. “I’ll show you the trick, then we’ll play. Then I’ll teach you how to do it.”

  She picked up her rubber-band-bound deck from the table, riffled it with considerable skill. Caught, Luke sat on the edge of the bed and watched her hands
.

  “Now this is called Lost and Found. You pick any card you see, and name the card out loud.”

  “Big-deal trick if I’m telling you the card,” Luke muttered. But when she riffled the deck again, he chose the king of spades.

  “Oh, you can’t have that card,” Roxanne told him.

  “Why the hell not? You said any card I saw.”

  “But you couldn’t see the king of spades. It’s not there.” Smiling, she flipped the cards again, and Luke’s mouth fell open. Damn it, he’d just seen that king. How had she gotten rid of it?

  “You palmed it.”

  Her grin was wide and pleased. “Nothing up my sleeve,” she said and, setting the pack down on her lap, held up both hands to show them empty. “You can pick another one.”

  This time, eyes sharp, Luke picked the three of clubs. With a showy sigh, Roxanne shook her head.

  “You keep picking missing cards.” A slow flip, and Luke saw that not only was the three missing, but the king was back. Frustrated, he made a grab for the pack, but Roxanne swung them up over her head.

  “I don’t believe it’s a regular deck.”

  “Not believing is what makes magic magic.” Roxanne quoted her father with great seriousness. She gave the pack a sharp riffle, then spread it faceup on the sheets. A wave of her hand to point out both cards Luke had chosen were among the fifty-two.

  He huffed out a breath, defeated. “Okay, how’d you do it?”

  Grinning again, she executed a nearly successful turnover. “First, Go Fish.”

  He would have told her to go to hell. But more than the satisfaction of telling her off he wanted to know how the trick was done.

  After two games of fish, he unbent enough to get them both a snack of cold drinks and cookies.

  “I’ll show you now,” Roxanne offered, pleased that he hadn’t nagged. “But you have to swear never to tell the secret.”

  “I already took the oath.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “When? How come?”