Summer Magic (14 page)

Though Dr. Woodstock had remained every bit as difficult to please, at least he hadn't fired her.
 
Maybe he figured for the meantime, an incompetent assistant was better than none at all--for no sooner had they handled one emergency, another one would crop up.

One day in New Orleans, for instance, a black bear broke its claw, and it became badly infected.
 
Later a show horse tripped and fell in the ring, fracturing a leg.
 
Then a lion needed a tooth extraction and her gums packed.
 
The monkeys, camels, and elephants had their share of problems as well.

Lisa soon learned that the camels were the most difficult of all animals to anesthetize.
 
Because the camel's neck was rippled with several layers of fat, it was hard to insert the needle into exactly the right spot.

Under Dr. Woodstock's watchful eye, she found herself ever nervous and edgy.
 
He's gearing up for the evaluation,
she reminded herself.
 
It's already the middle of July.
 
On D-day, less than two weeks from now when my probation is up, he'll undoubtedly deliver the verdict.

Her struggling efforts to help the trainers whenever their show animals needed medical care hadn't improved much either.

Oh, yes, there had been those miniscule victories, those times she'd managed to coax one of the huge creatures to cooperate, or offer an innovative approach to an old problem. For a short-lived moment, she'd felt as she imagined Michael must feel whenever he caught a difficult trick--a grandiose rush of satisfaction, a mountaintop experience.
 
But all too quickly another near disaster would strike.

Unfortunately, the disasters far outnumbered the mountaintop experiences.

One evening after another exhausting day, Lisa trudged back to Estelle's trailer, her spirits at an all-time low. The weather was hot and humid, the temperatures hovering at nearly one hundred.
 
Her T-shirt clung to her, moist and clammy.

Most of the time, in hot, humid climates, she wore cut-off jeans or shorts, cotton T-shirts, and sandals--just as she had today.
 
Now she could hardly wait for a refreshing shower and the chance to change.

"Hi there, Lisa!"
 
Michael's mother waved as she stepped outside the motor home.
 
"Got a minute?"
 
One of her show poodles, Rag's sister, was tucked into the crook of her arm.

"Hello, Mrs. Figaro!"
 
Lisa waved back.

Off to one side, three young children rode tricycles, causing swirls of dust to rise up about them.

Mrs. Figaro was dark-haired, pretty, and petite, much like Estelle.
 
She smiled warmly.
 
"What's with this Mrs. Figaro business?
 
I've already given you permission to call me Olivia."

"All right.
 
Olivia it is."

"I'm fixing fried chicken tonight," Olivia went on, shading her eyes against the sun.
 
"Would you like to stop by later tonight to join the girls and myself?"
 
She hesitated, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
 
"Or are you and Michael going to fix something to eat at his place again?"

"I...I'm not sure yet.
 
But fried chicken sounds wonderful.
 
I'll try to make it."
 
She smiled her appreciation.

Actually, she and Michael had only shared a meal at his trailer a few times.
 
Though Lisa was eager to get to know Michael's mother better, she didn't relish the possibility of having to face Claudette again--especially not after their confrontation back in Galveston.

Lisa unlocked Estelle's trailer and stepped inside. Rags greeted her, wagging his tail and nipping at her ankles.

"Hello, you poor thing," Lisa said as she ducked down to scratch the poodle under his chin.
 
"How can you stand this heat on a day like today?"

The dog gave an excited bark as Lisa started rummaging through the small closet she and Estelle shared in search of her most cool tank top.

Unexpectedly she spotted Claudette's oversized green blouse on a heap at the bottom.
 
It was finally time to take action.
 
Either she'd have to throw it away or deliver it back to Claudette.

Remembering a large Dumpster behind the north wall of the auditorium, she decided to discard it there.
 
She showered and dressed quickly, then placed the blouse in a brown shopping bag and crossed the lot towards the Dumpster.

The evening show was in full swing.
 
She paused to linger by the open back door of the auditorium.
 
Music drifted from inside.
 
Hot dog vendors worked the side aisles, while men, women, and children stared in awe at the kaleidoscope of activity inside the three rings.

It'd been nearly two weeks since she'd attended a performance, she realized.
 
She adored watching the Flying Figaros, especially Michael.
 
And the opportunities had been far too seldom. She took a front-row seat in the section reserved for the press and circus personnel, then settled back.
 
In the center ring, Claudette was perched on top of a trapeze, balancing with both feet.

"Claudette's been working hard on her solo act," she remembered Michael telling her.
 
Hopefully Lisa wasn't too late to see him too.

“Have the Flying Figaro's already performed?" she asked a man with a red beard who was holding an iPad and sitting next to her.

"Yes," he answered.
 
"They finished about five minutes ago."

"Just my luck," Lisa muttered.

"What did you say?"
 
He peered at her through Coke-bottle glasses.

"What I mean is," she amended, "I...I always seem to miss the best part."

"Maybe not.
 
Watch this chick.
 
She's sharp."

As Lisa looked on, she knew she had to agree.
 
Dressed in a neon blue sequin-studded leotard, Claudette looked stunning.

Yet Lisa sensed something was wrong.
 
Claudette's stance appeared unsteady.
 
Her normal smile of confidence missing. In an instant, her knees buckled.
 
Her arms started to flail. Then she tumbled downward.
 
A gasp rose from the audience.

"Close call!" the guy next to her exclaimed, straining forward on the edge of his seat.
 
"Good thing for that safety net!"

"Yes, thank goodness," Lisa agreed, heaving a sigh.
 
A strange mixture of relief and pity swept over her.
 
Poor Claudette.
 
Lisa's dislike for her unexpectedly gave way to concern.

Ghostly pale, Claudette leaped down over the side of the net and clutched the front of her leotard.
 
Yet her efforts failed to conceal the large rip that extended right down the middle.

Lisa's hand flew to her mouth in an effort to suppress a giggle.
 
So Claudette had ripped her costume and lost her focus.
 
No wonder she'd fallen...

Suddenly Lisa recognized her golden opportunity. Springing to her feet, she snatched the blouse from inside the bag and rushed into the ring.
 
Then in one quick motion, she draped the blouse over Claudette.
 
Saved by the sickening green fabric,
Lisa silently cheered.
 
Right back home where it belongs.

At that moment, she had to confess, she was more interested in adding to Claudette's embarrassment than covering up the rip.
 
But the crowd was loving it!
 
The sound of their applause rose.
 
Louder and louder.
 
In no time, they had risen to their feet and were waving their arms and cheering wildly.

Claudette flashed the audience her most dazzling smile as she dipped into a sweeping bow.
 
For a split second her eyes met Lisa's.

As Lisa hurried back to the bleachers, she blinked hard. She couldn't believe what she'd just done.

Then the truth hit her like a meteorite crashing to earth.
 
Claudette had changed her blunder into victory. She'd made it appear as if all along, Lisa's entrance was part of the act.

It was
the mark of a true entertainer,
Lisa mused, shaking her head
.
 
Without a doubt, Claudette's got what it takes to turn things around.

But the big question remained, did Lisa have it too?

Chapter Eight

"Hoshi!” Lisa called to the stable boy from the far side of the horses' tent.
 
"I need to leave a little early tonight to talk with Dr. Woodstock.
 
Will you please finish up here and see that the rest of the horses get fresh feed and water?"

"Sure, no problem."
 
He looked up from the opposite side of the tent.
 
Beneath a large spotlight, he stood brushing down a white Arabian.
 
"Is something wrong, Miss Lisa?
 
Why do you have to talk with the doc?"

"Diamond might have a respiratory infection.
 
It's not an emergency, of course, but she might need antibiotics."

He nodded.
 
"I noticed she's looked a little listless lately."

"Yes, and she's dragging her head--a sure sign." Diamond was one of the two black liberty horses that performed with Ebony.

Lisa squatted down and placed her hand between the animal's thighs, then added, "Hmm.
 
I think she's also running a fever."

Though Lisa and the veterinarian checked all the horses' temperatures routinely twice a day, she'd have to make certain from now on to monitor Diamond more often.
 
In hot Southeastern climates such as this, horses sweated off most of their water.
 
A high fever could easily hasten dehydration.

"Are sinus infections contagious?" Hoshi asked.
 
"Do we need to worry about the other horses too?"

"It all depends.
 
This condition usually starts from a virus, a common cold.
 
But horses can be prone to the bacterial complications that sometimes affect their sinus passages."

Thank goodness, Ebony was staying hale and hearty, Lisa thought, as she wandered over to where the mare had been tied.
 
She gave her a pat on the snout, then offered her a handful of oats in her opened palm.

Ebony snorted, eyed Lisa with velvety brown eyes and munched down the feed.

"Good, Ebony.
 
Nice girl," Lisa crooned.
 
"I'm afraid you and I won't get to ride tonight.
 
But maybe tomorrow night, okay?"

Lisa's bond with the horse was growing stronger with each passing day.
 
She could well understand Edward Figaro's affection for Ebony.
 
According to Estelle, he'd asked about her nearly every time Mrs. Figaro had phoned him.

Lisa glanced at her watch.
 
What was taking Michael so long?
 
After tonight's show, his fans--especially the groupies--had pressed in like a swarm of bees attacking a honeycomb.
 
Though Michael was always courteous, pausing to chat, sign his autograph, and answer questions, this time he was uncustomarily late.

What would he say about Claudette having fallen? Lisa wondered uneasily.
 
And especially about the way she herself had intervened?
 
Since Lisa had never told him about the nasty trick Claudette had played on her, he wouldn't understand the real meaning behind what Lisa had just done. Maybe he was angry with her.
 
Maybe that's why he was staying away.

She emerged from the tent and looked first right, then left, in hopes of spotting him.
 
Though dusk had settled over the circus grounds, she could see people milling about. Michael wasn't one of them.
 
Farther down at the elephant kraal, a square of portable sheds, two keepers were hard at work oiling the massive creatures’ dry, leathery hides with mops and buckets.