by Sharon Ihle
Ironic, Gant thought, that when he finally found himself capable of such strange and wonderful feelings that the object of his affections should be unmoved by them. Not that Gant didn’t attribute most of Rayna’s attitude to her deep grief.
He realized that she needed some time to herself after such a traumatic experience, and thought that he’d given her plenty of room to deal with those feelings. He now wondered if the rest of her life would be enough time.
Damned if this love business wasn’t a pain in the ass. Gant hurdled a wad of spittle into the fresh sawdust. Why the devil did anyone with half a brain ever bother to fall in love in the first place? It hurt. It hurt like hell.
Glancing back to the ring again, Gant saw that Rayna had finished her act. As she and Sweetpea took their final bows, Rayna smiled up at the crowd, flashing those green eyes at strangers the way she hadn’t for him in weeks. At the sight, something hot burst inside Gant, a surge of anger that grew with each passing day. He didn’t like those feelings one damn bit, or the reasons behind them. He tried to convince himself that it was better this way. Better that he and Rayna were nothing more than polite, cordial friends. Complications couldn’t arise between simple acquaintances. Nothing to cause pain or even worries about what the future might bring. His mind and heart would be free again. No regrets.
“Right,” Gant muttered under his breath. “That’ll work.”
Mollie walked up behind him as those words were spoken, and said, “Excuse me, Gant. Sorry if I disturbed you.”
“You didn’t. I was just talking to the only person who wants to listen to me anymore.”
She sighed. “I thought I’d take a peek at things. How is the crowd reacting?”
“Great so far.”
Gant paused as Gus cued the band for the Great Gantini’s grand entrance, and then made the introduction. The audience roared its approval. When the din died down, Gant resumed the conversation.
“The crowd seems pretty happy with my brother. Have you had a chance to talk to Hans about keeping J.R. in the lion act after his wrist is healed?”
“No, but there’s plenty of time for that.” Mollie clucked her tongue. “It seems that Hans slipped in the stables this morning and fell on that same arm.”
“He broke his wrist again?”
“Maybe. I don’t know for sure.” She tapped a fingertip against her temple. “Does it seem to you that Hans has gotten kind of awkward of late? I swear if he isn’t falling over his own feet, he's bumping into walls. What’s got into him?”
Thinking of the onyx panther, Gant actually found himself smiling. “Could be anything, I suppose.”
He was still smiling when Rayna rounded the corner on her way to the dressing area to change into her Cleopatra costume.
She paused long enough to say, “What a great crowd.”
“Best so far,” Mollie added.
Glancing in Gant’s direction, Rayna said, “We’re on in about ten minutes. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
With that she tore the curtain aside and disappeared into the dressing area.
Gant’s gaze lingered on the velvet drapes long after Rayna had gone, and then he slowly shook his head. She hadn’t even waited for his reply, as if even the sound of his voice was enough to make her blood run cold. It really was over, he finally realized. Finished. And there wasn’t a damn thing in the world that he could do about it.
Apparently Mollie didn’t miss the hurt in Gant’s expression or the flicker of pain in his eyes. Edging closer to him, she quietly said, “I guess things aren’t going too good for you and Rayna lately.”
“Things, ma’am? I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on, Gant. It’s me.” She nudged his shoulder. “I know how tight-lipped you are about your personal life, and believe me, I’m one who believes in holding my cards close to the chest, too. Maybe in this case I can be of some help.”
Gant’s laugh was short, bitter. “I don’t think so. In case you haven’t noticed, Rayna doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
Mollie couldn’t dispute that. “It seems that way all right, but I’ve noticed she’s pretty much the same around everyone else. Why don’t you go to her and try to convince her that it’s all right to be happy again?”
“Me?” Again he laughed. “You’ve come to the wrong man for that job, ma’am. Rayna holds me responsible for her mother’s death.”
“What?” Mollie slammed her hands to her hips. “I saw you out there paddling that boat down river. Why you and Sam did everything a body could do to save Maria. How can Rayna even think for one minute that you didn’t try your best?”
“You don’t understand.” Gant paused here, hating the idea of sharing such personal information, and yet urged on by a glimmer of hope. Maybe Mollie could be of some help. “Rayna doesn’t hate me because I couldn’t save Maria. She hates me because her mother wanted me out of her life and neither of us would listen to her advice. Maria even took me aside once and tried to make me promise that I wouldn’t see Rayna again. I said no.”
Again he paused, this time to let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe Rayna’s right. If I’d have done as Maria asked, maybe she would still be alive.”
“Fiddlesticks.” Spots of color flared on Mollie’s cheeks. “That’s the biggest load of folderol I’ve ever heard. If you and Rayna are not meant to be together, then neither are Gus and Mollie Bailey. You two are not the only pair of lovers in this world who had to buck a disapproving parent. It might interest you to know that loving Gus cost me my father, William Kirkland.”
“Your father is dead?”
“Not dead, Gant, but he might as well be where I’m concerned. He didn’t think the man I wanted to marry was good enough for me, Gus being a musician and a showman and all. My mother took me aside and said that if I was truly in love, I ought to just follow my instincts.”
Mollie sighed at the one memory, and then grinned at the other. “Gus and I ran off and eloped. We came back to the plantation afterwards thinking Daddy would accept us once we were married.” Her bright smile faded. “He didn’t. Not even after the children were born, and that includes William who is named after him. To this day, Daddy hasn’t forgiven me for marrying the wrong man.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? What for?” Mollie squeezed Gant’s arm and turned on her most mischievous grin. “Sure, I miss my Daddy, but I have ever so much more. I guess you can see what a miserably unhappy woman I am for it.”
For the first time in days, Gant indulged a playful impulse. He reached over and ruffled Mollie’s careful coif.
“Miserable and slovenly,” he said, ducking out of harm’s way.
“Hey,” she said, slapping at him. “I have to be on stage in less than half an hour.”
From behind them the curtain parted, and Sam said, “And Gant has less than ten minutes to get ready. If you two little children are done playing, he’d better get dressed.”
Still laughing, Gant turned to Sam and saw that he was holding the slave capes both men wore during the Cleopatra act.
He nodded at Sam, “Be right with you.” Then he turned to Mollie and said, “Thanks for the help. My Queen awaits.”
*
A few minutes later Sam and Gant stood at opposite ends of the conveyance used to transport Rayna to the ring. Two long poles lashed together supported the chair on which Cleopatra rode, and this entire structure rested on the men’s strong shoulders. As they waited for Marco and Melvin to finish their hilarious routine as vaqueros on stick horses trying to corral six ‘wild’ monkeys, Gant thought ahead to the evening.
Thinking that Mollie might have a point, Gant considered just walking right up to Rayna and demanding a few hours of her time. What harm could there be in that? What could she do but refuse or say yes? The refusal would hurt, but Gant was becoming used to that. If she agreed?
A trickle of panic rolled down his spine at the thought. Gant hadn’t had much practice in talking to women
, certainly not with a woman who had a stranglehold on his heart. What in the hell would he say? How would he ever find the words to tell her how he felt or explain emotions he really didn’t understand himself? Even tougher, how could he possibly expect to convince Rayna that her attitude toward him was wrong when he halfway believed that she was right?
A dramatic drum roll signaled the end of the monkey act and the beginning of the Cleopatra march. Gant glanced up to the queen who sat perched at the edge of her chair, and said, “Are you ready?”
Rayna gave him a perfunctory nod, and then quickly glanced away.
“At your service, your Worship,” he muttered under his breath. Then he and Sam, regal in the gold capes that concealed their work clothing, marched into the ring with their priceless burden.
The twins trailed along behind this procession holding the hem of Rayna’s purple velvet robe as if it were a bridal train. As they all reached center ring, a hush fell over the crowd. The music grew in intensity. In time with that building rhythm, Sam and Gant slowly lowered the chair to the ground, and Queen Cleopatra rose up from her throne.
After Gant and Sam moved the chair away from the performing area, Rayna unhooked her cape and sent it spiraling into the sawdust where it landed in a royal purple puddle. She stood absolutely still, eyes closed, hands crossed dramatically at the shoulders, every inch the Queen of Egypt. The initial affect on the crowd was stunned silence. Then a wild burst of applause echoed throughout the arena, and the act began.
When Gant returned to the ring, he fit his hands around Rayna’s waist as usual in preparation to lift her onto her rope. Today he paused at the last minute and squeezed her instead, forcing her to look up at him and meet his gaze.
“Be careful up there, Princess,” he said, pleased to see a crack in those agate-hard eyes. “Take good care of yourself for me, all right?”
Then, before she had a chance to flash a look of anger, or worse, apathy, he lifted her high in the air and clung to her until she’d coiled the rigging rope around her leg like a serpent. As Rayna worked her way up to a height some five feet above Gant’s head, Sam and Marco hoisted the Travis twins onto their adjoining ropes. While the girls climbed to their appointed height, Gus’s band segued into a trumpets-only tune befitting the Queen of the Nile, and the act was in full swing.
This was Gant’s favorite part of the show. On Rayna’s cue, he slowly began twisting the tail of the rope, twirling her in arcing circles. Her gown flowing out behind her, those long sinewy legs sheathed in white tights, she was a raven-haired apparition, a vision of beauty as she performed a series of graceful ballet moves high above the sawdust floor. Faster and faster he turned, watching her every movement, loving her serene expression as long strands of free hair whipped across her face and shoulders. Gant loved this part of the show because Rayna was his during these precious few minutes, dependent on him, in tune with him no matter her mood.
And then Gant suddenly noticed something else.
Rayna had gone into her death spiral without the usual signal and much too early in the sequence of Gus’s carefully synchronized music.
Craning his head upward, Gant twisted his neck and tried to catch a glimpse of her expression, but it was no use. A cloud of black hair hung over her eyes and mouth, clinging to her features, obscuring them as she twirled around and around, her body limp.
Even though he couldn’t actually see her face, Gant knew something had to be terribly wrong.
Following his instincts, he carefully eased the pressure on the rope, slowing the turns until Rayna was no longer a blinding flash above him. When he was able to get a glimpse of her, he saw that her wrist was still hanging in the loop where it belonged, but that Rayna dangled from the rope, a pale and lifeless creature. This was exactly as planned, had it been the end of the act. Trouble was, she hadn’t pulled the rubber asp from her bodice, signaling the fatal bite.
“Rayna,” Gant called up to her, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. “Rayna. Are you all right?”
When this got no response, Gant glanced over to the curtain where Mollie stood watching. He was hoping that she’d noticed the deviation from the act, but she was engrossed in conversation with Melvin. Gant quickly returned his gaze to Rayna. He was just in time to see her hand slip out of the protective ring.
Then she fell.
“God, no,” he said, lurching forward to break her fall.
Gant caught her at mid-thigh just before she hit the ground. Then the pair, with Rayna folded into Gant’s arms, tumbled onto the sawdust floor.
Trying to save the act as well as the woman he loved, Gant quickly jumped to his feet and pulled Rayna up along with him. Then he scooped her into his arms and marched offstage as if the ending had been planned that way.
Amid thunderous applause, Gant ducked behind the curtain, and shouted, “Mollie. Get over here quick.”
Pushing away from Melvin, she asked, “What is it?”
“Rayna passed out.” Gant’s gaze flickered over her fluttering lashes and pale cheeks. “She fell off of the rope. It wasn’t part of the act.”
“Lawdy—someone get the salts.”
Mollie rushed over and brushed her fingers across Rayna’s forehead. Using her other hand like a fan, she called, “Rayna? Can you hear me?”
Rayna heard Mollie’s voice, a distant garbled sound, and wondered for a crazy moment if she’d fallen into the river, a drowning victim like her mother. At the horrifying thought, she sucked in a frantic breath and her eyes flew opened. She struggled, wondering where she was and why she couldn’t move, and then Gant’s voice filtered in through her panic.
“Easy, Princess, easy,” he murmured, lowering her to her feet.
Rayna slumped against his chest, her knees wobbly, her stomach rolling like the Mississippi River. Clearing her head, she managed to ask, “What happened?”
Mollie said, “You got into a swoon up on the rope and went and fainted on us.” She paused to take in the blotches of color on Rayna’s cheeks and the paleness around her eyes. “How are you feeling now?”
Swaying as the tried to take stock of herself, Rayna said, “Not too good. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Gant’s arm tightened around her waist. Then he said to Mollie, “I’ll get her out of here and take her to her cabin. She’s done performing for the night.”
Even in this confused state, Rayna had no intention of going to her cabin alone with Gant. “I’m perfectly all right,” she declared. “I must have lost my concentration and got dizzy while I was spinning. I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“No,” Mollie objected with a shake of her head. “I can’t have my best performers cracking their heads open in the name of this circus. Gant has a fine idea. You let him take you on up to your room now. We’ve got plenty of show left for the crowd without you.”
Done with the subject, Mollie turned to Melvin and said, “I think I hear Gus playing your cue. Why aren’t you out in the ring?”
Intent on Rayna, Gant tilted her chin. She still looked dazed. “Do you think you can manage to walk on your own?”
“Of course.” She pulled away from him and took two wobbly steps.
“Sure you can,” Gant said, taking hold of her arm to steady her. Without another word, he scooped her into his arms and stalked out of the arena.
Rayna thought again of protesting, but another surge of dizziness swept over her, damping her brow and smashing another wave of nausea against the pit of her stomach. Grateful now for Gant’s support, she let her head fall against his shoulder and allowed him to carry her up to her cabin.
Once they were inside Rayna’s room, Gant set her down on her feet, and then cupped her face between his hands. Turning her head toward the waning afternoon light, he could see that she still seemed a little pale, even though her cheeks shone with high color, and her eyes weren’t quite in focus. He thought she might even pass out on him again.
“What can I get to help you, Princess?” he ask
ed.
Just Gant’s being there made Rayna feel better, his touch, the way he was looking at her. For a moment she almost let herself forget what feeling this way had cost her. Rayna tried to push out of Gant’s arms, but he held her fast.
“Let me go,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’ll be all right now. I must have eaten something didn’t agree with me. I think I’ll just lie down for a while.”
Thinking the least he could do was escort Rayna to her bed in case she stumbled or fell, Gant glanced around the small cabin. He hadn’t been in her room since that first explosive kiss they’d shared so long ago. Back then the walls had been stark white. Now they were swathed with strips of brightly colored cloths, and above them, the ceilings were edged in bright red fringe.
