Girl on a Wire (26 page)

I didn’t make the mistake of looking down. This time, I made the mistake of looking up, and seeing that flash of green. Flickering in its place, I saw the old photograph on the murder board, the clowns around the trunk, one of them brandishing the scarf. And then I wasn’t on the wire at all. I was running toward the ring the night of Sam’s accident, Beauty rearing and screaming. Sam bleeding in the sawdust, the scarf discarded beside him . . .

I dropped the parasol, tracking it as it sailed through the air and jounced into the ring with enough force to cave in on one side.

Raising my arms straight out to my sides, I tried to find that line, that invisible tether of spine that led to balance. But I lifted them too quickly and—

I was falling too. I grabbed for the wire, caught and held on to it with both hands. I held on to it for dear life. Mine.

The thick cable hurt my palms, but I couldn’t let go. I was no longer a girl on a wire, but a fish on a hook. The parasol would have been hanging just like this, if I’d completed the earlier trick.

My father was sitting up, out of the lie-down that had protected him when I’d lost my balance. If he’d been standing, my fall would have been enough to knock him off.

“No,” I said, pleading for him to stay where he was. “No.”

“Julieta,” he said. “I’m coming.”

“No, don’t.” I struggled to get the words out.

There was a commotion below us in the ring—shouting, familiar voices—but I couldn’t look down. Not and hold on.

“Yes,” Dad called down to whoever it was. “Yes, bring it out! Now!”

My muscles screamed at being asked to hold this position, the wire cutting into the tender skin of my palm. I needed to lift myself higher if I was going to have a chance.

What was I capable of?

I was capable of fighting with everything left in me.

Using every last bit of strength I had, I inched upward until one forearm was level with the wire and I could hook an elbow over it. I didn’t have the power to get the other one up. But it was enough to stabilize me, so I could see what Dad was telling whoever was below us to bring.

Remy was in the ring, and he was directing the crew to position a net beneath our wire, maybe the same one they’d just used for the trapeze act.

My father was telling them to bring me a net. My father, who had never believed in them.

Nets might be for amateurs, but there were worse things to be. Like dead. “Dad,” I said. “Finish the act. Get an ovation.”

Remy backed up, the net strung wide, ready and waiting. If I had the courage to fall, it would catch me.

If Nan was right, her magic was about amplifying what already existed inside something. So all I had to do now was amplify my own courage. That was what I tried to do. Finally I would be strong enough to let go. Strong enough to get back to the honest performer and person I knew I could be. Steadying myself as much as I could with one arm to hold me up, I took a breath.

And I let go.

I

let

go.

As I fell, I pictured Remy doing it. I’d watched him jackknife into the net so many times. He fell with intention.

I pulled my body into that approximate V shape—falling, falling—and bounced in at an angle. As soon as I landed, the net threw me up again, not wanting to keep me.

A moment later, Remy’s hands were on my waist, and then they found mine. He pulled me onto my feet. “Pretend you’ve got a limp,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulders.

He wanted it to look as if he were supporting me, like I’d had to come down off the wire because of an injury.

“No.” I pressed him back. “Thank you, but no.”

I lifted my arms above my head and bowed low. Valentines applauded, even though all I’d done was . . . fall. But it
had
been one of my most important acts ever, hadn’t it? I raised myself even taller and bowed lower.

When I finished, Thurston was frowning at me, which transformed into gawking as he glanced up at the wire. Where my father was
prancing
, putting on the show of his life. He
never
showboated.

“Did you see the green scarf?” I asked Remy. I knew no one would be watching us when Dad was doing that. Which, I was positive, was why he was doing it.

“No,” he said, “just that you were in trouble. Jules, I could barely breathe.”

“Thanks for the save. But we need my parasol. It has the scarf in it.”

Remy took my hand—earning a few wolf whistles, I was guessing from fans so devoted they were missing the walk of a lifetime to keep an eye on us—and steered me toward the parasol. Letting go of his hand, even though I didn’t want to, I plucked it off the sawdust. Dirt smudged the half-caved-in canopy. When I flipped it upside down, the green square of fabric that had caused so much trouble was still there.

We reached the curtain just as my father finished. Thurston had recovered and was saying into the mic, “Please show this man your appreciation. Now that was the sight of a lifetime!”

I looked up to see Dad bow to the crowd from the middle of the wire. They were on their feet.

“We always get our standing ovation,” I said.

Remy touched the parasol. “Do you have any idea how it got there?”

“None,” I said. “I left it where I always do.”

Nan and Mom were on top of us as soon as we exited the ring into backstage. Mom patted me from head to toe to make sure I was okay. “I’m fine. A little net rash tomorrow probably, but fine,” I reassured her, pressing her back with my free hand.

Then I dropped the parasol to the ground and bent to remove the scarf.
Such a small thing to have caused so much pain.
I handed it to my grandmother.

“Give it to
her
, that’s a great idea,” Novio said, appearing with a sneer. Behind him, Dita tried to pull him away, but it was clear that she’d have no effect. She backed off. It was too late to stop him.

“Now’s not the time, Novio,” Remy said. “Jules could have been killed.”

“Yes, she could have,” Nan said, closing her hand around the scarf. “This is what killed Sam.”

“What do you mean?” my mother asked, aghast.

Maria Garcia had apparently been summoned by the presence of Nan and controversy. She echoed her son. “The girl’s careless on the wire. That’s all.”

“Was it you who set Jules up?” Remy asked her.

“No,” she said, dismissive. “How could you think I would harm her? You’re my son.”

“You’ll give us the coin back now, won’t you?” The words were low, and they came from Novio. I almost thought I’d misheard. But he repeated it. “You’ll give it back? Now you see that I know everything. It’s time to make this stop. Just give back what belongs to us.”

Remy stepped between Novio and me, or maybe he was putting me behind him. “Novio?”

We were all quiet, and Novio began to talk. “I was his heir. The oldest Garcia son. It should have been mine. He told me everything. What had happened. How it was stolen. That Thurston would bring you here, and that I could get it back.”

Maria scrubbed her cheek. “Dad put you up to this before he died?”

“He told me about the ancient coin that should have been my birthright. How it’s powerful enough to make you the best you can be. Nancy Maroni stole it from him. I just wanted what belongs to us. I put all the pieces together. Granddad had the clippings and the photographs in his study, up in the attic. The objects were in the trunk. All these years.”

“The murder board,” I said. “It was
yours
.”

Everything clicked into a sad, sick kind of sense. My mother couldn’t have understood half of what was going on, but she said, “If Nan says you endangered my daughter, you have no life on this show.”

Novio ignored her, nodding at me. “I wanted Remy to know, to see it when we got here. I knew Thurston was trying to hire the Maronis, because Granddad told me. I thought Remy would come to me, and I’d tell him the whole story. That he could help me. But you tricked him. He stopped caring you were a Maroni. But I can never forget. The coin belongs with me.”

I moved in closer, standing beside Remy. “That’s why you picked a fight with Sam. So we would think there was no way the break-in could be you. And the rose was you too?”

“I meant to give it to her”—he jerked his head at Nan—“but she wasn’t there, and I didn’t find the coin in your RV. When the lights went out in the big top, I gave it to you on impulse. I had the rose in my jacket.” He shook his head. “The coin was my birthright. You were here to steal the spotlight, just like she took it.”

And I understood. He was in the same shadow that had consumed his grandfather. Something darker drove him than his siblings, the same hunger for recognition and power that had driven Roman. Remy was all about work and achievement. Dita was fighting to be herself. But Novio, he was a creature of family. I understood him. I might not have gone about it in the same way, but I recognized the need to secure the place he believed belonged to him.

My plan had worked, even though drawing out the culprit had been the longest shot part of it. We knew who was responsible. But what would we do, now that we knew?

Dad and Thurston exited the ring. “Explain,” Thurston barked.

I could see Dad had plenty of questions of his own, but he took in Nan and the Garcias, Mom and me. He faced Thurston and said, “This is family business. We will talk with you later.”

Thurston’s assistant emerged from the curtain, with a phone in her hand, and she gave Thurston one sharp shake of her head. “Producer who was here for the announcement says no,” she said, regretfully, to both of us. “No special. Not this year.”

Easy come, easy go.
Thurston stood where he was for a long moment, and I expected him to challenge Dad. But he said, “Come with me,” and went off with his assistant.

Which left us with the very messy family business to conclude.

“Give me the coin,” Novio said.

“Novio, I understand why you think you want it—” I started.

Remy took two steps closer to him. He looked from me to Novio and back. He laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Jules gave it to me before. And it’s gone. I got rid of it.”

My mother’s arms were crossed. “The boy must be punished. He can’t stay here. Nancy says he caused Sam’s death, tried to hurt Jules.”

Maria apologized in her smoker’s voice, face lined with years of unhappiness. “I had no idea. You’re right. He won’t be back. He is no longer part of this family.”

“Wait,” I said.

The line of balance that had eluded me on the wire, sent me tumbling when I tried to locate it . . . there it was. I stood straighter, like gravity didn’t apply. “Just wait. I’m not sure that’s what we should do. Think about it. We can’t send him to jail. He hasn’t committed any crimes, exactly. What are we going to say? This jerk kid took objects he believed were
magic
that had belonged to his grandfather and used them to cause an accident that led to Sam’s death?”

I stopped to drag in a breath. When no one jumped in to argue, I went on. “While kicking him out
would
feel good, it wouldn’t make anything better. Not really. Your father had Nan cast out, and it solved nothing. I don’t even think it’s what Sam would want. He loved Dita, and he understood the importance of family. He wouldn’t want her to lose a brother too.”

“I’m not a kid,” Novio said.

But it was Nan who shushed him. She wasn’t born to the wire, but she carried herself like she was. “I think all the goodness that Roman possessed went into the coin, all those years ago. He was so closely linked to it.” She touched Novio’s shoulder, and he flinched. “I might be able to figure out how to take the poison from this one, put it somewhere we can destroy it. So the good in this boy can come back into the light.” She held up her hand to Maria. “I won’t make any promises, but I wrote myself off, all those years ago, for making terrible mistakes. I didn’t think I could earn my way back, and I refused to use my gift any longer. But he’s just a boy still, no matter what he says. Roman’s gone, but no one knows better than me how hard it can be to shake his influence. The boy, he might come through this yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Novio said, fear shining out from him. “I won’t do it.”

Maria and Nan stared at each other, like they had that predawn morning in the Garcias’ RV, seeing past the surface of each other. This time, Maria nodded and turned to her son. “Yes, you will. For Sam Maroni, Novio. You will do whatever she tells you.”

He shifted toward Dita. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. It was all just supposed to scare them into giving us the coin.”

“If they’re right, you killed
my
Sam.
You
broke my heart,” his sister told him. “You do this for me.”

“I knew she had the coin,” Novio said, a weak protest. “I was right.”

Nan held up her index finger and said, “Lesson one. Sometimes being right doesn’t matter.”

Novio didn’t volley back an insult. He lowered his chin in a grudging but unmistakable nod.

People were filtering out of the backstage area, giving us a wide berth. No doubt they were heading to the mess tent. Drama between the Garcias and the Maronis was juicy, but it couldn’t compare to free booze and an after-party.

The Cirque had made it through the season. Everyone wanted to celebrate that. And I agreed. That our families in particular had made it through—even if we weren’t intact, and would never be the same again—was worthy of recognition.

“So, it’s over?” I asked. “It’s all really over?”

No one disputed it, but Dad looked like he wanted a fuller accounting later.

Remy returned to my side, and reached an arm around my waist. “Yes,
stop
. It’s over,
stop
.”

I faced him, grinning like a fool. If that wasn’t an apology accepted, nothing was. When our lips met, it wasn’t like going back in time, and it wasn’t like forgiveness. It felt as new as the first time.

Our kiss was a beginning.

thirty-eight

After the crew broke down the tent in Atlanta the next day, the caravan returned to Florida. But most of us wouldn’t be here long. There was going to be one final, epic party to mark our last night in Sarasota. With a few exceptions, the performers and crew wouldn’t spend the entire winter here. Everyone would head back to their homes—the nonmoving ones—and then early next year either we’d come back here to start training again or head off to other shows. The verdict on the Cirque’s future remained out, especially after I’d flubbed my chance at the TV thing. But I had faith in Thurston. What he’d created was too special to give up.

Just before it was time to leave for the party, I went out into the living room. Mom gave me a sparkling smile from the couch. She and Dad sat beside Nan. “What is it you say, Nancy?” she asked.

“
Bellissima
,” my dad and Nan answered in stereo.

Nan wasn’t quite as glam as she would have been before the truth came out, but she wasn’t entirely plain either. A polka-dot scarf was knotted at her neck, and she wore a little lipstick. Her new look suited her.

A knock sounded at the door. Dita came in first, in a white tux, smiling sweetly. We’d invited her to join us, rather than go on her own. But my breath caught when I saw Remy in his suit—and how
he
looked at
me
. I was wearing a vavoom-y ensemble I’d picked up in Atlanta. Red like my costume, but with a slinky shape.

“You look amazing,” Remy said.

“Of course she does,” my father said, clearing his throat. “She’s a Maroni.”

Remy dropped into a gallant bow in front of my parents. “I’m sorry. I just—”

“Stop before I rethink this whole date-night thing,” my father said. My mom swatted his arm affectionately.

And then the third Garcia entered. Novio wore a polo shirt and jeans. He was banned from the party, and this was going to be the night when Nan set the ground rules for her plan to try to save him from his own darkness. His inherited darkness, the poison Roman had given him. He ducked his head. “Hello,” he said, and slung himself into the first open chair—a kitchen one, facing the living room.

Nan was examining him like she couldn’t wait to get started. I noticed her tarot deck lay on the table, and suspected he was about to get a reading. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

I still missed Sam too much to forgive him. Maybe someday.

“Home by eleven,” Dad said, as we made our way toward the door.

“Ish,” I said, and shut it firmly behind me before he could object.

The party had already started when we reached the big top. I had a momentary déjà vu, thinking back to that first night and our masks. Remy must have sensed it. My arm was tucked into his, and he said, “Nervous, First of May? Don’t be. I hear you’re a good dancer.”

Things were good between us. It turned out that almost plummeting to my doom off a forty-foot wire and being rescued clarified a lot of feelings. If Novio deserved another chance, so did we.

Thurston was in the middle of an announcement when we made our way into the crowd. People smiled at us indulgently and a little cynically, the way older people do when young people pair off.

Think what you want. This
is
going to last—or if it doesn’t, it won’t be for the reason you think.

“I’ve decided I’m going to give us five years to turn a profit,” Thurston said, and, over the cheers, “I’m having too much fun not to.” He punctuated the news by opening a bottle of champagne. He added, “Plus,
someone
keeps telling me that one day everything will make sense. After enough years, I’ll wake up and it’ll be like I’ve always been circus.”

The finale had bewildered Thurston, but Dad had assured him it was a momentary problem on my part and wouldn’t happen again. Thurston wasn’t as bothered as I expected by the TV thing falling through. “Always a long shot,” he’d said. “But I’m beginning to rethink my stance on the idea of magic being illusion only.” I hadn’t responded, and he didn’t force the issue. Thurston was full of surprises.

I wasn’t disappointed about it either. I had more than I’d ever realized I wanted. My family had found our place. And now that I knew for certain we’d be coming back next year, it was all the sweeter. I only wished Sam could be here to see it all.

“He meant me when he said
someone
,” I said, gloating. “I keep telling him that.”

Remy said, “Not surprised.”

We had this one night here left, before we went our separate familial ways for a few months. That stupid cell phone was going to come in handy. I’d have to keep it.

“Dance?” Remy asked.

“Or we could go make out.”

The music started, and, in answer, Remy spun me into his arms and around the ring.

“Do you still have the coin?” I asked, leaning close to his ear.

“I don’t know any safe way to get rid of it.” Remy had finally become a reluctant believer in the power of the coin. What happened during our finale night in Atlanta had convinced him.

“We could ask Nan, I suppose. Explain that you were lying when you told Novio you’d gotten rid of it.” I smiled. “But I’ve been thinking. And I have an even better idea.”

“Oh no,” he said, but there was no sting in the comment. “What’s this idea?”

“You’ll see. It involves sneaking out later.”

He grinned. “Just like old times.”

I checked over my shoulder to see where Dita had gotten to. She was dancing near the edge of the ring, smiling shyly at a girl in a plaid dress. I approved.

We all carried our grief about the night we lost Sam, but we had to move forward. Our losses, our wins, they were what bound us together. The circus
was
a family.

And
that
was what had given me the idea.

Remy hissed. “Hey, pretty lady, you by yourself?”

I nodded cartoonishly. It was quiet, the middle of the night, the party cleared out at last. He emerged from the side of the big top where he’d been waiting. We both wore practice clothes.

“You ready?”

He gave me an
I was born ready
face.

“Fine, but do you know how to get us into the rigging?” I clarified.

“Yes.”

“And you have it?”

“Yes.” He put a hand in his pocket, and I rushed to say, “No, you keep it. I have the needle and thread in mine.”

The tent was dark inside, and Remy had turned on the lights only right in the center spire. He lowered a ladder, and we had to climb and climb and climb. I wasn’t used to it, but he was from all those nights practicing. “Tired?” he asked.

“You?” I countered.

“Not with this view.”

“Nice,” I said, looking down to where he was, below me on the ladder. But we finally made it up above the rigging, to the beams and railings and poles that supported it. We climbed like monkeys, and when we got to the last section, I rose to my feet on a flat beam several inches across. I extended my arms out for balance.

Remy had gone a little ahead of me, so he could pull me up into the last section at the top of the tent. Over his shoulder, he said, “Are you sure?”

I nodded. I needed this. The last time I’d walked, I fell.

So I let the beam beneath my feet feel like a wire. I kept my spine straight and I called on every ounce of my talent. There was no packed house to applaud, only Remy watching in the dark, but I’d remember this performance for the rest of my life.

“I can still do this,” I said, when I made it to him.

He lifted a hand and brushed it along my cheek. “Of course you can. Coin or no coin, it was you doing it all along.” There we sat, high above the ring, and just below the stripes of the big top. Together. What a difference a few days made.

“We’d better do this.” I got to my feet using one of the bars, and he joined me. I climbed one more step until the very top of the tent was inches away. I took out my sewing kit.

He didn’t ask how I knew how to sew. Everyone who is circus knows how to mend small tears and rips in costumes. I sewed the piece of fabric I’d brought into the lining of the tent, and said, “You do the honors.”

“You’re
sure
this is a good idea?” he asked.

“The coin is good luck, but it shouldn’t belong to one person. This way, it’ll belong to all of us. Or it’ll do nothing. Either way, it will do no more harm. Besides, this feels right, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he said.

He placed the coin inside the pocket in the lining, and I sewed it closed. We pulled the tent fabric back over it. Concealed as if nothing was there.

He put his hand at the back of my neck and I took a step toward him, getting so close there was only space around us, and none left between us. His lips met mine and we kissed in the empty air. That felt right too.

When we separated, he clambered down to the next level and waited for me to join him. I paused for just a moment, reaching up to put my hand over the fabric where the coin was hidden and to admire the grand sprawl below my feet. In not that many months, we’d fill this tent again.

I couldn’t wait for next season.