by L.H. Cosway
“I’m not going back to college,” I said in a steady voice, holding my chin high.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are. This is your final year. Quitting now would be a waste.” Jesus, it was like she wasn’t even listening. Like she didn’t care enough to listen. As far as my mother was concerned, her way was right, and everyone else’s way was wrong.
“No, the last three years of my life have been a waste. I should never had agreed to go to college in the first place. It’s not what I want. It’s not my passion. Yeah, I’d probably make a lot of money when I eventually got a job, but I wouldn’t be happy. What’s the point of being successful if you’re going to be miserable? I’d rather be penniless and happy any day of the week.”
Mum rolled her eyes to the heavens, like my little speech was a cliché she didn’t have time for. And okay, perhaps it was a cliché, but it was my cliché, and I was determined not to give in. I wasn’t going to be spineless and bend to her wishes anymore. I was going to lead the life I chose.
“You say all this now,” said Mum, “but wait another few months, and you’ll be whistling a very different tune. Wait until you can’t afford clothes or food, or a place to live, and then let’s see how happy you are. You’re used to a certain lifestyle, Lillian, and eventually you’ll miss the comfort.”
“I won’t,” I gritted.
“For Christ’s sake, stop being a brat. I’ve lived longer than you have. I know better. Now come, let’s go collect your things and be going. I want to have enough time for something to eat before we get on the plane.”
Before I could respond, I heard hard footsteps approach and then Jack’s deep, questioning voice asking, “Lille, what’s going on?”
My mother turned to face him, her eyes taking him in as she crossed her arms over her chest and raised a speculative eyebrow. Okay, so she had never exactly been a nun, and I hated to say it, but Mum had a thing for handsome younger men. She always kept it away from our home life, which was at least something I was thankful to her for. But over the years, I came to learn that she liked to use her hard-earned money to wine and dine toy boys. Needless to say, it wasn’t really something I liked to think about very often.
Jack had clearly just come off the stage, because he was using a towel to wipe sweat from his neck, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I cringed when I saw how my mother appreciated the view. It was just plain wrong. Benjamin let out another impatient scowl and tapped his finger to his watch. I scowled right back while Mum ignored him, her attention all on Jack.
“Hello,” she said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. “I’m Miranda Baker. Lille’s mother. I came to take her home, I’m afraid.” She smiled urbanely, her last words mixed with amused laughter, like this was all a little misunderstanding. Like I was a five-year-old who’d wandered into the neighbour’s back garden and needed to be retrieved. My hackles rose as I gritted my teeth. Jack stared her hand, then arched a dismissive brow, making no move to shake with her.
“I told you, I’m not going home,” I said, loud and firm.
Jack’s gaze travelled from me to my mother and then back again. There was a beat of silence before he took a few steps to stand next to me.
“You heard her,” he said to my mother, cocking his head and giving her a placid stare.
Mum waved him away. “Oh, don’t mind Lillian. She has her head in the clouds most days. What kind of mother would I be if I left her here to fend for herself?”
“I’ve been fending for myself just fine,” I said, and Mum glanced at me, taking in my crumpled, paint-stained T-shirt and the long gypsy skirt I bought at a market last week.
“Your appearance says otherwise, darling. What on earth are you wearing?” she replied with just the tiniest edge of mockery in her tone. Now I felt Jack straighten, and his fists were flexing, a familiar sign that he wasn’t a happy camper.
“You need to leave,” he ground out as his arm went around my middle. Within seconds, my mother took in the dynamic. She may have been mean and controlling, but she wasn’t dumb.
“Ah, I see,” she said, pursing her lips before reaching into her designer handbag and pulling out her wallet. “You’re clearly attached to my daughter in some way and would be put out to have her leave.” Wow, I’d almost forgotten the knack she had for saying things without actually saying them. Her tone did it all for her. She had deduced that Jack and I were having sex and thought he’d be “put out” if I were gone.
“I don’t want any trouble, and you’re clearly a big, powerful man,” Mum went on, placing firm admiration in the words “big” and “powerful.” She was trying to sweet-talk him, stroke his ego so that she could get her way. “So, name your price,” she finished. “How much will it take for you to back off and let me extract my daughter in a hassle-free manner?”
My heart pounded and my face started to get red, I was so furious. She spoke about me as if I were a product she wanted to buy. And if I was furious, Jack was positively livid. He moved me so I was standing behind him, then took a step closer to my mother. She drew in a startled breath at his advancement and stumbled back a little, eyelids fluttering in surprise.
When he started to speak, his voice was low and menacing, “Listen to me, Miranda, and listen good. There is no price you could pay, no words you could speak, no threats you could spew that would make me let you take the woman I love away from me. Your daughter is worth more than what you think of her. She is one of the most beautiful, intelligent, talented, caring souls I have ever met, and she deserves better than you. She is not a commodity to be bought and sold, and she is not your property.” He paused before finishing firmly, “Not anymore.”
All of a sudden, I was finding it hard to breathe again as his voice echoed in my ears.
The woman I love.
That’s what he’d said. I swallowed hard and focused on Mum. She was staring at him like he was a foreign language she couldn’t translate. At long last Miranda Baker had come up against somebody she couldn’t buy or intimidate. Time seemed suspended, until I finally regained the ability to move. I took a few steps forward and slid my fingers through Jack’s to convey our solidarity. Mum’s mouth scrunched up in distaste, and she was no longer looking at Jack with attraction. He’d gone down in her estimation by the simple fact of being in love with her daughter, and if ever I needed proof that I was doing the right thing by severing myself from her, then this was it.
Benjamin began to grow uncomfortable as he fidgeted where he stood, probably because he thought Mum might expect him to go up against Jack. And yeah, her PA possessed about as much brawn as a Barbie doll.
I expected Mum to throw some thinly veiled insult back at Jack, but she didn’t. Instead, her attention landed on me. She let out a long, exasperated sigh, like this was all such an inconvenience to her and we weren’t discussing my entire life here. “I have tried, Lillian, but if this is what you want, then I suppose I can’t force you to come home. But know this, I will not try again, and when it all goes belly up, do not expect me to come to the rescue. You’re on your own now.”
I stared at her head on, my focus never wavering, and continued to hold my chin high. Her threats wouldn’t work to cow me anymore.
After imparting her final words, she turned to Benjamin, nodded for him to follow her, and left. My mother’s PA shot me one last retreating glance, like I was some kind of imbecile for not coming home with them, and then he was gone, too. Muted music streamed from inside the tent, and I stood hand in hand with Jack, a heavy tension resting between us. My heart felt full and light at the same time, my lungs drowning in emotion. I had never felt so much love for another human being in my entire life as I did for him in that moment.
He’d helped me stand up to Mum. But not only that, he’d shown her that I was worth something. He told her that although she considered me a burden, a helpless little bird she had to continually spoon-feed, that was not how he saw me. That in his eyes I was brilliant just as I was.
“Your mother is awful,” he murmured into my neck.
“You told her you loved me.”
“I told her that because it’s true.”
I pulled back and stared up at him. “Is it?” My words were so quiet, I wasn’t sure he heard them at first. He seemed amused rather than insulted by the question.
“You don’t believe me?”
Flustered, I backtracked. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I just…this is going to sound stupid, but I need to know if you meant what you said or if you said it simply to stick up for me.”
He smiled down at me tenderly and brushed a tear I hadn’t realised had fallen away from my cheek. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, flower.”
All in one go, the air in my body left me. I was weightless as I sank into him, gripping his shoulders in my hands. And suddenly I felt shy, as his dark eyes penetrated me, flicking back and forth between mine as though trying to read my thoughts. I blushed hard and looked at the ground over his shoulder. God, how could I be shy about this when I knew he loved me, too? I had to say it. I couldn’t just let him put himself on the chopping block without putting myself on there with him.
“I love you, too,” I whispered, eyes trained on the grass. Even in the dark it looked so green, or maybe that was just my thumping heart amplifying the colour.
A deep, low chuckle escaped him. “What was that, flower? I didn’t quite catch what you said there. Also, you need to look at me. Don’t rob me of your eyes.”
Swallowing for courage, I moved my gaze to his. “I said, I love you.”
A wide, glorious smile shaped his mouth as he bent down to place a gentle kiss to the edge of my lips. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Loud clapping startled me out of my trance before I had the chance to pull him in for a proper kiss. Whatever act that had been on inside had just ended, and the audience was cheering. I decided to pretend they were cheering for us. For me and Jack and our quiet little confession of love.
He brushed his thumb over my lip and tugged on my hand. “Come with me — I want to give you something.”
Curious, I allowed him to lead me past the tent and back to the campers. When we reached his, he pulled me inside, then disappeared into his bedroom. I heard him opening and shutting a drawer before he returned with a small cardboard box in his hand. Pulling me down to sit, he placed it in my palm and told me to open it.
I pushed open the top and saw something bundled up in bubble wrap. Retrieving it, I began to strip away the plastic until I discovered it was a tiny hot air balloon forged in copper. Only a second passed before I remembered it. I’d seen this ornament before. It was from the curiosity shop back in Caen. It had been sitting in the window display while I admired it and pointed out to Lola and Jack how much it resembled my tattoo.
“You bought this back in Caen, didn’t you?” I said, my voice airy, emotion causing my voice to catch.
He pulled me onto his lap and rested his head on my shoulder as I traced my fingers over the copper.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I felt rather than saw him shift, as though self-conscious. “I wanted it because you wanted it. There was something about the way you looked at it, like it was magical, that made me need to buy it. I wanted to possess that kind of magic, but more importantly I wanted to give it to you because I knew it would make you happy and I liked to see you smile. So I went back the next day and bought it.”
A small, affectionate laugh escaped me, while at the same time my eyes grew watery. It was just a little ornament, and yet, it meant the world to me. It meant everything to know Jack had been so thoughtful to buy it when I couldn’t afford it. I turned in his lap and stroked his jaw. “You bought it for me?”
His laugh matched mine. “Yes. I suppose I thought it’d endear you to me.”
“I was already fascinated by you. Endearment wasn’t necessary,” I told him, hoping he could see the love in my eyes. “Why did you wait so long to give it to me?”
His arms slid around my waist, and his voice vibrated deep into my core. “I got a little attached to it for a while, but I don’t need its magic anymore. I’ve got you now.” He said the words simply, like all this was completely obvious, and my heart squeezed as I twisted and planted a kiss on his mouth.
“You, Jack McCabe, are the magic one,” I said before setting the ornament down and reaching up to lift my shirt over my head.
Seventeen
And two bleeding souls were reunited
It had been an extremely humid day, and I was taking a break from face painting to sit in the refreshment stand with Lola and press a cold water bottle to my forehead. The show had just started, so Lola’s customers were slowly trickling out. She wouldn’t get busy again until the intermission. I eyed her speculatively. She seemed to be doing quite well now, and I never caught her crying or looking sad anymore. But still, I thought about the night of the attack all the time, wondered who it had been. It made my skin prickle with eerie awareness.
I also wondered about her life before the circus. About her husband Derek, who had treated her so badly she’d run away and assumed a new identity.
“What age were you when you came here?” I asked as she wiped down the service counter. I had graduated from pressing the bottle to my forehead to opening it up and gulping down its soothing coolness.
“Eighteen,” she answered without having to think about it.
“Eighteen?” I said. “And you were already married?”
“Yeah, well, you know I’m kind of impulsive. I have this habit of meeting people and latching on right away. I did it with you.” She paused and gave me a smile, which I returned. “The problem is that sometimes I latch onto the wrong person. Derek was twenty-five when I met him. He was a policeman, had his own place, and owned a car. I thought he was so sophisticated,” she said, rolling her eyes at herself. “I never questioned it when he proposed to me after only two months seeing each other. We married a month after that, and I moved in with him. That’s when the hitting started. I’d forget to wash his uniform on time or I’d be late having dinner on the table, and he’d beat me black and blue. I had to escape. The circus was in town, and I saw it as my opportunity. I applied for a job, and the rest is history. Derek hasn’t found me yet, and if I play my cards right, he never will.”
I nodded, absorbing her story and thinking of how scared she must have been to run away like that. How strong she was now in the little life she’d made for herself.
“I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t know where we could buy a ticket, would you?” A voice cut through my thoughts, and Lola stepped over to the counter again to help the customer. I glanced at the woman, taking in her long dark hair and light blue eyes, her pretty heart-shaped face and stylish clothes. I normally wouldn’t have paid such close attention, but this woman had an Irish accent, which was an unusual thing to hear when you were in Italy. She looked to be in her early to mid-twenties, and smiled at us with straight white teeth.
“Yeah,” Lola began, and pointed to the ticket booth just across the way, “you can get tickets over there.”
“Thank you,” said the woman, just before a man called out,
“Watson, for crying out loud, is it impossible for you to wait up for me?”
The man behind the voice appeared a second later, and the moment I saw him, my entire body broke out into a cold sweat. He was tall, about the same height as Jack, had gorgeous hazel brown eyes and an undercut, the top part a touch dishevelled. He wore a tailored suit jacket with a band T-shirt underneath and dark jeans. Basically, he was drop-dead gorgeous; he’d barely spoken, and already I was being hit with a whack of the charisma stick. Jack had the same effect, but it was rough around the edges, and he was often unaware of it. This guy knew exactly the effect he wielded, and
his charm was practiced and honed to a “T.”
I’d recognise him anywhere. This was Jay Fields, Jack’s brother, and I couldn’t believe he was standing in front of me. I couldn’t believe my letter had brought him here. I also couldn’t believe that I’d basically forgotten I’d even sent that letter. In recent weeks, I’d been so wrapped up in Jack that it had completely slipped from my mind.
He wrapped his arm around the petite woman’s waist, his jaw tight. There was an air of tension about him that put me on edge. I only realised I was staring at him with my mouth wide open when Lola nudged me with her elbow and muttered under her breath in amusement, “Close your mouth, Lille.”
Her words made me blink, snapping me back to attention.
Jay glanced at me and frowned. “Hey, are you okay, darlin? You look like you just saw a ghost.” He was staring at me hard now, attention flickering over my features as though he was thinking rapid thoughts.
“You’re Jay Fields,” I blurted out stupidly.
“A-ha!” Lola exclaimed. “I knew I recognised him from somewhere. You’re mad talented, mate. I can’t believe you’re here at the circus. I was just showing Lille your videos a couple of weeks ago. What are the chances, eh?”
Jay was still staring at me when a light bulb set off behind his eyes. “You’re Lille,” he breathed, stepping forward with his arm still around the woman. “Lille Baker?”
I swallowed hard and nodded, unable to find my voice. Jay shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out some folded papers. He unfolded them, and with a sudden pang of dread, I recognised both my and Jack’s handwriting. Jay pointed to my letter. “You wrote this?”
