by Sarah Noffke
Titus now laughed loudly. “That’s a deal,” he said, clapping his hand into the ringmaster’s.
From the side of Fanny’s trailer a contagious smile lit up Zuma’s face. Jack was watching the two men. But Finley was watching Zuma, knowing that was all he had to do to know how the decision across the way was going.
“So Titus isn’t leaving?” Finley said.
Zuma looked at Finley suddenly. “How did you know?”
He traced his finger in the air, making a circle around her face. She swallowed hard and knew he spied the movement. Finley was always watching her. Never hiding it. But right now his eyes on her felt intimate, more so than usual.
“Yes,” she finally said. “Titus is staying and Dave has given him partial ownership of the circus.”
“Well, that’s going to change everything,” Finley said with a weighty sigh, like he was the one who had to draw up the paperwork or something.
“I don’t see how it will change anything much,” Jack argued.
Finley focused his eyes back on the two men, shaking hands and laughing. It didn’t change anything for most at Vagabond Circus, but it meant Finley things had just gotten more complicated.
The creak of the trailer door opening ripped everyone’s attention in Fanny’s direction. She stood in the entryway, the curls on her head frizzy, no doubt from rushing about and caring for Jasmine for the last hour.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Fanny hadn’t even taken her first step out of the trailer when Zuma’s shoulders dropped with relief. “Oh, thank God, Jaz is okay,” she said.
Fanny gave her a tired smile. “Shall I give the news or would you rather pull all the information out of my brain and inform the group?” Fanny said, no menace in her voice.
“Sorry,” Zuma said at once. “My concern made me anxious to get information. I don’t usually get in your head, Fanny.”
“I believe you, dear,” she said and then turned her attention to Dave and Titus, who hurried over. “The good news is that Jasmine will be all right and after a day or two of rest I think she’ll be fine,” the woman said, taking turns alternating her clinical, yet warm stare between the two men.
“What’s the bad news?” Titus said, the cynical look he wore so well plastered across his face.
Fanny gave him a disappointed look. “Life isn’t just good and bad. There’s a whole array of in between, Titus,” she said in the admonishing tone she reserved for only him. “Anyways, the mysterious thing is I don’t know what made her ill. Jasmine is awake now and can’t account for anything that would cause her to become lightheaded and pass out. As far as I can tell her blood pressure dropped and her temperature spiked. Those two symptoms alone don’t tell me much.”
“Maybe she caught a virus,” Dave said, his gloved fingertips tapping together nervously, his eyes distant with thought.
“Maybe,” Fanny said, looking unconvinced. “I’ll keep an eye on her for the next few days but I think she’ll be fine. And hopefully whatever it was won’t return.”
Finley was fairly certain Jasmine wouldn’t be sick again. Her passing out was a mistake. She hadn’t been the target and that mistake wouldn’t be made twice.
“All right, well thank you, Fanny,” Dave said, his voice tired from the adrenaline.
“It’s my pleasure. I’m going back to our gal now,” she said and then the large woman heaved herself up the steps to the trailer.
“And we,” Dave said, sweeping his arm at the three people in front of him, “need to put our heads together and figure out how to reconfigure the acrobat acts in Minnie’s absence.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
It took the better part of an hour for the group to figure out how to replace Jasmine in the show. However, when it was done, Dave knew the show would still receive deafening applause. Vagabond Circus was about change. It moved from place to place, and reconfigured based on available performers. The ringmaster loved that about the circus. “Without change, we are dead,” he often said. Titus didn’t handle the improvising so well, but he was motivated by the desire to always produce a stellar show. And now the creative director had more of an investment in the Vagabond Circus. It was his and he wasn’t going to let it fail, not ever.
The acrobats knew an important part of their act was missing during that night’s show. Dave Raydon knew it. Felt it in his bones when he introduced Vagabond Circus. It was as if each performer’s energy registered in him during a show and he could feel Jasmine’s absence. To Dave a show was an organic being. It was created with real ingredients, by real people. It sometimes evolved and sometimes regressed. It lived and it died. Each show, each day, was alive for a brief period of time, like a human. And then as the audience exited the big top, the beating heart of that show slowed until it was no more.
Zuma for the first time ever completely skipped the after-show festivities. She had already made plans to relieve Fanny and watch over Jasmine for the night. The noise of happy crew members dancing around the bonfire was just noise to Zuma as it spilled through the cracks of Jasmine’s trailer. She didn’t feel left out of the celebration. There would be other parties. And she’d been to enough. Zuma was like Dave in this way. She was accepting. Fleeting experiences were never really missed by Zuma. And although she wasn’t a girl of faith, she somehow always knew if one thing prevented her from doing something it was because something better was in store for her. She trusted life.
Zuma nestled herself deeper into Jasmine’s sofa and flipped through the pages of a book. Although she had no intention of reading the book, she liked scanning its pages and stopping randomly to read a sentence. It was like she was stealing lines from the story and creating her own in her head. Jasmine had been sleeping for the last few hours, making Zuma’s job of caring for her easy.
From the back bedroom there came a stirring of sheets followed by an “Ugh!”
Zuma set the book to the side and checked on her friend, who was taking an incredibly long time to sit up.
“Z?” Jasmine said as she drew closer to her. Again and again the girl blinked, trying to bring Zuma into focus.
“I’m here, Jaz,” Zuma said from the doorway. “Do you need something?”
Jasmine wore a pale face, her eyes unfocused, and her brown hair matted to her head in various places. “A new brain would be nice,” Jasmine said, her voice hoarse from sleep. She rubbed at her temples before looking up. “Remember that time that we were rehearsing the trampoline act and I got too close to the platform?”
It was an act they’d perfected recently where the acrobats bounced back and forth from a trampoline to a series of high platforms that resembled a luscious woods. In the act they appeared to be creatures of the forest, hopping and flipping from tree to tree, and running up the sides of massive trunks before flying back to the mossy forest floor.
“Yeah, you smashed your head into the sharp corner of one of the trees. I think you took some paint off it with that hard head of yours,” Zuma said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “The poor crew had to do a bunch of repairs on the set before the next show.”
Jasmine almost smiled but stopped herself. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”
“Jaz, you know I can’t make that promise,” Zuma said, smiling fondly at her friend. “I can’t help that I’m hilarious.”
“Well, if you’ll stop focusing your concern on some plywood for a second,” Jasmine said, the light in her eyes looking to be restored second by second that she spoke with Zuma, “I was going to say, that’s how my head feels right now.”
“Do you feel nauseous?” Zuma asked.
At that, Jasmine grabbed her midsection, like the question prompted a sudden stomachache. “Yeah.”
“Well, I’ll go grab Fanny. She might be able to give you one of her homebrewed remedies. I don’t think she wanted to give you anything earlier, hoping your body would repair itself,” Zuma said, standing. She paused in the doorway and looked back at Jasmine. “Are you all righ
t if I leave you for a few?” Nearly losing Jasmine had almost made Zuma a little sentimental. There were few people she’d really miss if they left or died and Jasmine was one of them. Zuma loved everyone, but to her, most were replaceable.
“I’m fine and go ahead and get that sappy look off your face. It doesn’t suit you at all,” Jasmine said, her normal spunk back.
Zuma mock scowled at her friend. “Fine, I’ll go get Fanny for you so you can feel better. But first, I might stop off at the after-party for a few hours on my way,” she said, heading for the door. Then she called over her shoulder, “You’ll just have to wait to find out what I do.”
Zuma rushed by the after-party, not even throwing it a casual glance. She had thought that she’d find Fanny in her trailer, but she wasn’t there. When she was just about to double back to the after-party, thinking the caretaker was there supervising the kids, Zuma heard two low voices in the recreational area. And although usually she’d have ignored them, they were two voices that were incredibly recognizable to her. Finley’s and Fanny’s. They were speaking in whispers, which Zuma found extremely curious. And even more intriguing was they were sitting at a picnic table both hunched over a book.
To Zuma’s disappointment, her presence didn’t go unnoticed for long. Fanny turned at once, sensing the girl at her back.
“Well, Ms. Zuma, you found me,” Fanny said, a smile visible through the moonlit sky. “I am supposing you were looking for me, am I right?”
Finley turned, startled at first and then brought his eyes low to the table. Zuma watched him for a second before responding. “I was. It’s Jaz. She’s awoken and has a headache and nausea. Is there something you can do for her?”
“Well, I can sure try,” Fanny said, pulling her long thick legs out from between the picnic table and the bench with great effort. She turned back to Finley once she was standing. “I’ll be back in just a few, darling.”
He nodded, his eyes to the side, a strangeness about him. Finley felt Zuma’s scrutinizing glare on him and hadn’t had a chance to recover from her sudden appearance. He admonished himself for not being more on guard, but he’d have to make up for it now.
Fanny hurried past Zuma, unconcerned that the girl didn’t follow her, but rather stood staring at Finley with curious eyes.
“What are you doing here with Fanny?” she asked, noticing the small flashlight in Finley’s hand. He twirled it in his fingers before bringing his focus to meet her.
No longer did Finley look flustered. Across his face was a playful grin. “Would you believe we’re having a secret love affair?”
She laughed and he relished the sound almost as much as the fact that he was the one who caused it in her. “No, I wouldn’t believe that.”
He shrugged indifferently. “Well, then the reason will just have to remain a mystery to you.”
“Do you think being a guy of mystery makes you more attractive?”
He smiled. “Is that question implying that you find me attractive?”
Zuma ran her eyes over Finley’s spiky dark brown hair, parted on one side and both neat and chaotic. In a better light she’d see the color of his eyes, which couldn’t be categorized as either green or brown. But the moonlight did make the angles of his cheekbones and definition of his mouth quite clear. For Zuma there was nothing unattractive about Finley’s appearance. But she managed to fake a yawn and through it she said, “I meant in general, to other people.”
“So not to you? You’re not attracted to me?” he said.
Something in Zuma’s stomach rattled, but she ignored it. “I’m your partner,” she said simply. Like that answer sufficed.
“Then to answer your question, no, I don’t put on an act of mystery so that other people will be intrigued by me.”
“Then why do you?”
The truth was, Finley thought, that if people knew who he was they’d be repulsed. He was only preserving the little bit of ego he had left. Instead of telling her the truth, Finley said, “I’m just a private person.”
“So I’ve gathered,” she said, stepping forward, eyeing the notebook in front of him. Finley, using his speed, snapped it shut and pulled it close to him.
“It’s our love letters, mine to Fanny,” he said with a sneaky grin. “I’d prefer you not read them.”
“You know there’s a no dating rule at Vagabond Circus,” Zuma said with smile.
“Rule number two,” Finley said, nodding. “But I can’t resist Fanny, so we’ve decided to act on our love.”
“You have a thing for older women, then?” she said, unable to suppress the giggle.
“Yes, and I’m a rebel who would break the rules for the person I want,” he said, his eyes on her, and because Zuma was so good at hiding emotions, he had no idea that one look torched her insides.
“Lucky Fanny,” Zuma said, all the humor in her voice gone.
Finley slid out of the picnic table and approached Zuma, leaving the notebook on the table. “I have a confession,” he said, his voice a hush.
“I’m listening,” Zuma said, realizing how fast he’d moved and now was only a foot away.
“I’m not really in love with Fanny.”
“You’re not?” Zuma said with pretend surprise, followed by a smile Finley thought should have been illegal, at least in a place like Vagabond Circus where he couldn’t get closer to it. Feel her smile against his lips.
“No, I’m not. And I have another confession,” Finley said, fighting past the breathless feeling in his chest.
“What?” Zuma said and held her own breath.
“Mr. Finley, are you ready to get back to work?” Fanny’s voice sliced between the two, the woman materializing at their side. Zuma was shocked she hadn’t noticed her approach. How did that happen? She was always aware. Finley had trouble pulling his eyes off Zuma, who looked to be experiencing the same battle.
He nodded finally.
“Good,” Fanny said, her voice warm and rich. “Now Ms. Zuma, Ms. Jasmine is doing better. Maybe check on her in an hour?”
“Yes, of course,” Zuma said, not moving, her eyes now on the older woman.
“And if you wouldn’t mind leaving us, Mr. Finley and I have an important project we’re working on,” Fanny said, her tone firm.
Zuma nodded again and turned at once, not bearing to look at Finley anymore. Those eyes. They could trap her. And his words, what he’d said and what he was about to say. It all created a storm inside her chest. She moved fast, feeling his eyes linger on her back.
Zuma was in fact correct, Finley was watching her go, unable to tear his gaze from her until she disappeared completely.
“Lovely girl, that Ms. Zuma,” Fanny said, taking a seat at the picnic table.
“Yeah,” Finley said absentmindedly.
“Too bad about the curse though.”
“Wait, what?” Finley said, turning his full attention to Fanny suddenly. She was wearing a look of knowing. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, well, it’s not something most here know.” And she wasn’t baiting him, but rather determining if he needed to know what she knew.
“I’d like to be one of the few then,” Finley said, taking the seat next to Fanny.
She studied him in the way only Fanny could do, where she saw a person and knew exactly what was best for them. Then having made a decision she nodded. “Very well. Ms. Zuma is cursed because she was born here at Vagabond Circus.”
“She was?” Finley said in astonishment. “How is that a curse?”
“Well, Vagabond Circus wasn’t always a happy place. Twenty years ago there were bad things that happened here, in the beginning,” Fanny said, her always cheery face sagging a bit. “Zuma’s parents weren’t in the circus. Her being born here was a fluke. Bad timing, for sure. Her mother went into early labor when she and her husband were here visiting Dr. Raydon.”
“I still don’t understand where this is going,” Finley said.
Fanny nodded in understanding. “T
here’s all sorts of powers and gifts for Dream Travelers, Finley,” she said, leaning forward, her voice a ghostly whisper. It was so different from her normal voice that it made Finley fear she’d been possessed. “One man who performed here long ago had the power of intention, but to most they know that gift as witchcraft.”
“Witchcraft?” Finley said, not disbelieving or believing. “Like as in spells and stuff?”
“Yes,” Fanny said flatly. “Exactly. And this man with the right intention could produce long-standing spells and curses. It was a subsidiary power, not the one he used in the acts. Most didn’t know about it. But there were problems and a falling out.” Fanny paused, her eyes troubled as she stared at the tabletop, not really seeing it. “And many things happened, many things that still hold a consequence over the circus to this day. And one of those is that any child born at Vagabond Circus shall forever be cursed.”
Finley wanted to laugh, wanted to pretend that curses weren’t real and he didn’t believe in them. He arranged his face into a skeptical grin, one that said, “why are you playing with me”. But Fanny simply brought her large blue eyes up to meet Finley’s with a look that chilled him all the way down to his tailbone. The fake laughter caught in his throat at once. “There isn’t really a curse on Vagabond Circus, is there?”