PS It's Always Been You
Page 23
This isn’t how you feel when you land your true desire.
My hands are clammy; my throat is tight. That makes no sense, because I want this so damn badly.
But I want something else too.
I want that man, and if I take this job, I won’t be able to see him much, if at all.
“Would you be able to start in two weeks?”
He needs to know now? I have to stall. “Would I be home at all?” I ask, keeping my voice even so I don’t give myself away.
“You’d mostly be on the road.”
God, it sounds like a dream. Like an incredible, incandescent dream. I’d be a fool to turn it down for a weekend here or there. Wouldn’t I?
“It sounds incredible,” I say, buying time to think.
Hunter wants me to take it. He wants me to have this.
I should be over the moon. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m making the wrong choice.
“Daniel, can I—”
A voice cuts in. “Presley.”
It’s Hunter, and the knot in my chest loosens just seeing his face. He sets a hand on my elbow, directing his words to my boss. “I hate to do this, Daniel, but can I steal her away for just a few minutes? I swear I’ll give her back to you. Pretty please?”
Ever the charmer.
“Of course.”
He’s a knight on a white horse—I need saving from having to give an answer, so I’m glad to see him ride in on his steed.
He tugs me down a quiet hallway, his steps urgent. “I found the letters,” he whispers.
“What?” My voice shoots up ten octaves.
“They were in a compass in Vik’s jacket.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But read them with me.”
There’s nothing I’d rather do.
39
February 1923
* * *
My Dear Claudia,
* * *
I am coming home!!! I will see you in a few days. I won’t even send this letter. I will hand it to you. But I want to tell you the story.
* * *
On Valentine’s Day, I performed as the Woman in Red. Baron threw his knives at me. It was the hardest performance ever, because I was counting the seconds until it was all over, and I feared I would slip, move a millimeter, wobble.
* * *
All I could think was how once the show ended, my life would change. Our lives would change.
* * *
As long as everything went according to plan.
* * *
When he finished the act and that night’s show, Baron left with Jack Caribaldi, having arranged to discuss business matters and potentially buy some of his circus. (Wait till you meet Jack! He is just your type.)
* * *
We didn’t have a moment to spare.
* * *
Not a single second.
* * *
I raced to my trailer, grabbed my bag, turned around.
* * *
And there he was.
* * *
My love.
* * *
The love of my life.
* * *
A few years older, a few years wiser, but still the same. Brown eyes, dark hair, and a heart that beat for me.
* * *
I gasped, and he gathered me in his arms. One quick kiss was all he allowed me. One wondrous kiss that turned my knees weak.
* * *
There was no time for weak knees. He took my bag, and I shut the door. Only when I was down the steps did I realize I was missing something.
* * *
My bracelet from our brother.
* * *
Baron had it, the only thing I have from our brother. I told Edward. He drew a deep breath, glanced around, and then rushed me to Baron’s trailer, but it was locked. Edward grabbed his knife, picked the lock with the blade, and whispered, “Go.”
* * *
I rushed in, snatched the bracelet from Baron’s bureau, then flew out of there.
* * *
I grabbed everyone. All my friends, all my fellow performers who’d been trapped.
* * *
Beanie and Tommy. Millie and Jo. George and William and Davey.
* * *
And we ran. We ran through the night, down a dark street, along a hidden path. We ran to the train depot, and we piled into a car, and my heart didn’t stop beating at a rabbit’s pace until the locomotive rang its bell and we chugged out of the station, heading toward freedom.
* * *
What’s freedom, you say?
* * *
Freedom is when the man you love pays off your family’s debt so you’re no longer beholden to someone like Baron.
* * *
But love? True love is when he does it for all your friends. He made enough money to free all of us from our debts.
* * *
We call that train ride the Folklore Ride.
* * *
Do you want to know why?
* * *
Because our disappearance will become folklore. The missing circus performers. The trapeze artist who escaped, the strong man who ran away, the target girl who was a target no more. We’ll become merely tales.
* * *
We’ll change our names, start new lives, free to begin again.
* * *
Our old lives, our old debts, will simply be folklore.
* * *
I cannot wait to see you again. But for now, I am here with Edward.
* * *
And when I finish this letter, I shall turn to him, place a hand on his cheek, and say thank you.
* * *
It will never be enough for what he did.
* * *
He didn’t come only for me. He came for everyone.
* * *
And that’s how I know I’ll love him madly for the rest of my life and beyond.
* * *
But right now, I will be kissing him.
* * *
And kissing him.
* * *
And kissing him all night long.
* * *
My love,
Greta
40
Presley
I clasp my hand to my heart. “Oh. My. God.”
“Yes.” Wonder paints his tone. “That’s the . . .”
“That’s the real deal.”
“That’s the biggest gesture I’ve ever heard of.”
“And it makes such perfect sense.” My voice cracks. "What she said in the last letter about how the ending isn’t what you expect. Yes, it was an escape. Yes, it was a rescue. But he didn’t just rescue her.”
“That must be why Baron Z’s shut down a few months later. Remember?”
“Yes.” I nod quickly. “Edward liquidated his indentured servant circus.”
“That’s why they changed their names. So Baron wouldn’t know who did it. Jack was the cover, and Edward paid all their debts. So he could free her.”
I snap my fingers as the next realization strikes. “That’s why the other letter said it’s not the story of ‘our’ daring great escape, ‘our’ midnight ride. Because it wasn’t.”
“It was everyone’s great escape.”
His voice. It’s so rich so full of passion and admiration, and I still can’t believe that he feels as strongly as I do about their story. But he does, and it feels like ours. We’ve discovered it together.
But there are details—like how and why—that don’t add up. “I still don’t understand how you found this in Vik’s pocket.”
“I don’t either, but there’s one more letter.”
We open it and read it together.
* * *
Dear Children,
* * *
So now you have the full story.
* * *
But you may have questions. What happened next?
* * *
Well, you know the basics. Jack finished his nightcap with Baron, bid him a
dieu, went to his car, and drove as fast as he could to meet us on the train when we crossed into Indiana.
* * *
As for Baron, I can’t say. I imagine he returned to the grounds to find the performers’ quarters ransacked, only his people left—and the notes. Your father left the banknotes for Baron, the ones saying we were free and clear of our debts. Baron no longer had a hold on any of us.
* * *
His circus limped along for a few months, maybe more, until it was picked over on the side of the road, a carcass of a creation.
* * *
Beanie went home, glad to be with family.
* * *
Same for Tommy.
* * *
No more debts.
* * *
No one to lord over them.
* * *
They’d been freed.
* * *
And so had I. I was free to return to Claudia, to take care of her. But she didn’t need much because as soon as she met Jack, they fell fast in love.
* * *
Your father and I changed our last names. Took on a new one to celebrate the day we were reunited, against all odds.
* * *
Valentine’s Day.
* * *
We became the Valentinas.
* * *
It was such a good performer’s name. It called to us. With a last name like that, it was a fait accompli—we had to perform again.
* * *
Though not right away.
* * *
We were too busy raising a family, and your father continued to build businesses. Did he miss performing? Sometimes, but he was happier to be with me, to take care of you, and to know that the others had their own fresh starts.
* * *
But don’t worry—his thirst for adventure took him to South America with Jack. Such explorers. Such men who loved to conquer the world.
* * *
You know the rest of our story. We raised you, we supported the arts, and your father went on expeditions.
* * *
And yes, it is true, your father and I could not resist the call of the circus.
* * *
When we invested with Jack in the theaters, we would sometimes moonlight at The Folklore.
* * *
No names. Not even stage names. We couldn’t give away who we’d been—The Silver Blade and His Pink Ribbon Girl. Or who we became—the Valentinas.
* * *
We were performers in disguise, simply known as The Knife-Thrower and His Target Girl.
* * *
We loved those rare nights when we performed, but we loved them most of all because they kept us close to our story, to how we met and fell in love.
* * *
Why did we leave this story for you?
* * *
To remind you that love is a choice.
* * *
That love is always worth choosing.
* * *
Always worth fighting for.
* * *
Always worth sacrificing for.
* * *
Love is the greatest choice you can make.
* * *
And we love you madly, deeply, always.
* * *
Love,
E & G, most affectionately known as Mom and Dad
41
Hunter
Some decisions are easy. Some are hard.
And some are hidden in plain sight.
I tuck the letter safely away in the compass, slide it back into the jacket pocket, and take out my phone.
“I have a call to make.”
Presley blinks back her surprise. “You do?”
“Yeah. Stay here.”
A few seconds later, Trevor answers. “Hey, boss man. What’s up?”
I waste no time. “What would you think about taking over my show?”
“What?” It has twenty syllables.
Presley’s eyes widen.
“You be the frontman. You do the adventures. I’ll do the specials.”
He jumps on it. “Um, yeah, but why?”
“Sometimes a man has to do something else,” I say, meeting Presley’s gaze, giving her a smile.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m making another choice.”
“Dude, you’re being awfully cagey.”
“Do you want to take over or not?”
“I do. I absolutely do.”
“I’ll give you more details later.”
I hang up, tuck my phone in my pocket, and take her hand. “I’m not going on the road all the time. I’m not chasing Everest again. I’m not going to spend my life away from you.”
She presses her hands to her temples like she can’t fit my words into her head. “But, but, but . . . I wasn’t even sure if I was going to take the job.”
I scoff. “Are you crazy?”
“Crazy in love.”
I laugh. “Good. Stay that way. But why on earth were you thinking of turning it down?”
She shrugs simply. “Because it would mean less time with you.”
I reach for her, pressing a kiss to her sweet, sweet lips. “God, I love you. I fucking love you. But you’re not turning it down. You’re doing it. And I’m doing less.”
“But you love adventures.”
“I love you more. How many times do I need to climb Everest? Five? Please. I’m good. Been there, done that. Have the T-shirt.”
“It energizes you though,” she says.
“And I’ll get by on a couple hits. I’ll do specials. I’ll do less. But you know what I won’t do?”
“What?”
“I won’t give you up. I won’t lose you. Deep down, something in me hasn’t been complete since we split, and it took me almost dying to realize it. How the hell could I read those letters and not put you first?”
“Oh, God.” Her voice catches. “Is this just because of the letters?”
“No. It’s because those letters gave me perspective. It’s because I choose you. You’re what I want most in the world. Now and forever. Tell me you’re down with this idea and let me kiss you again.”
“You’ll really follow me around?”
I nod emphatically. “I’ll go with you and I’ll be a happy bastard.”
“Yes. I say yes. I say a million yeses.”
I slide a hand through her hair, bring her close, and seal that promise with a kiss.
A kiss for all time.
As a promise of forever.
One that says love is the first choice I’m making every damn day.
When I break away, she’s holding my face. “Thank you.”
This is right. This is good. “It’s time for you to chase your dreams, honey.”
“You’re my dream.”
The sound of applause rends the air.
“Well, it seems someone found what I left for him.”
I turn around to see Vikas. He’s here, and so is my mom, along with the woman from the Exploration Society, and Corinne. And Pat Caribaldi.
42
Hunter
“Fancy meeting you here,” I say, wondering why the hell everyone is gathered around us looking like they just found million-dollar bills in their underwear.