by Trudi Jaye
And then Kara opened her eyes. “Wha…?” she said, blinking.
“Kara, thank God you’re okay.” Rilla smoothed the hair from Kara’s forehead with her other hand. “Where do you hurt?”
Kara gazed around in confusion. “What happened?”
“You fell. You were up on the ribbon. Something happened to the rigging.”
Remembered panic flared in her eyes. “It hurts,” she said, rolling her head to one side.
“Barb, go call the ambulance from the ticket booth. I don’t have my phone on me. We need to get her to the emergency room.”
Barb nodded and ran to the exit of the big top just as Viktor, Jack, and Frankie came running in.
“What happened?” asked Jack as they raced over. “We heard the noise from the caravan.” They skidded to a halt just in front of Rilla, each of them casting glances between the huge fissure overhead and the steel safety rigging lying just above the ground.
“She fell. The rigging… The ladder toppled with all three of us on it.” For the first time, Rilla looked up properly at the gaping canvas roof, her mind twitching over the idea of what had nearly happened.
“The Mark almost died?” Viktor backed up a step, his eyes accusing.
Before Rilla could answer, Frankie broke in. “Look, Viktor,” he said, pointing to the roof. “That rigging didn’t fall on its own. This was deliberate. And it’s not Rilla’s fault.”
“Kara!” The name echoed through the tent. They all turned, except Kara, to see Deputy Fordham sprint through the entrance.
“What’s he doing here?” said Viktor, again looking suspiciously at Rilla.
“He’s here to pick up Kara.” Rilla watched the deputy race toward them. “She’s okay. I think it’s just bumps and bruises,” she told him.
“I saw Barb. She said she was calling an ambulance.” He crouched down and ran a hand over Kara’s forehead. “Kara, baby, are you okay?” he said softly.
Kara mumbled something and opened her eyes. Tears welled when she saw the deputy crouched over her. “Matt.” She tried to sit up and wipe at her hair but fell back again.
Deputy Fordham glanced at Rilla, but he didn’t say a word.
Rilla swallowed, all her guilt rising to the surface. “She was knocked out,” she said. “We need to get her to the emergency room.”
“I’ll take her in my car.” The deputy bent down to pick her up. None of the others stopped him as he lifted Kara’s slight body into his arms. “I knew this was a bad idea. I should never have let her do it,” he muttered to himself as he headed to the door.
“She’s not a child,” said Rilla, frowning at him, following him toward the exit. It didn’t matter that it was exactly what she’d been thinking.
“She’s on her own, and she hasn’t been making good decisions. I should have helped her more.”
Rilla opened her mouth to argue, but Deputy Fordham was looking down at Kara with a very particular expression on his face, and she stopped. The deputy was more than just concerned about Kara; he was head over heels in love with her. She shook her head. She’d been missing so much lately. “Let me know how she is, okay, Deputy?”
Deputy Fordham simply nodded and strode off toward his car.
Viktor, Frankie, and Jack were all standing around, staring up at the gaping hole when Rilla rejoined them. Tremors were starting to rock her body. “Can we fix it before the show tonight?” she asked. She knew the answer but felt a small sliver of hope that Viktor might be optimistic.
He wasn’t. “We can patch it up best we can for tomorrow night, maybe,” he said. Pulling off his hat, Viktor wiped his forehead. “We’ve only got three more nights after this one. It might make it for that amount of time. After that, I don’t know.” He looked over at Rilla and she gazed down, her face burning. She knew it was her fault.
“That rigging is a mess. Who checked it last?” Frankie was peering up into the shadows on one side. His glance slid down toward the ladder that was even now wedged against the canvas side. “That was some fall you three had. I’m surprised you’re not more hurt.”
Rilla hugged her arms around her middle and tried to keep breathing evenly. A small sob escaped and then another. She tried to look away, to gather her thoughts, but the rush of adrenaline was slowing down, and now she felt the shock and the raw emotion of what just happened.
They’d almost died. She’d almost killed the Mark.
***
Jack’s emotions were boiling over. He clenched his fists and tried to keep from yelling as Frankie said what they’d all been thinking. He stood by and watched Rilla trying to pretend nothing had happened, even as blood poured out of a gash on her forehead. All he wanted to do was shake her and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing up there. She could have been killed.
“So, what exactly happened?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Rilla shook her head. She was visibly trembling.
“Rilla? Half the goddamned tent is missing, and you won’t say what happened.” Jack’s anger at himself, and at Rilla, spilled out. He felt out of control, and the words tumbled from his mouth. “I’m the Ringmaster now. I deserve an explanation.”
Rilla’s eyes flicked up and caught his. He could see the hurt clear as day and immediately wished he’d managed to keep his stupid mouth shut.
Her tears overflowed. Rilla turned and ran from the room. He took two steps to go after her, but Frankie grabbed his arm. “You’ve done enough,” he said and sprinted off after Rilla.
Jack took a breath. He pushed his hand through his hair, pulling hard on the strands he caught. What the hell had he been thinking? She’d just had a traumatic experience. It hadn’t been her fault, and he’d yelled at her?
It would be a wonder if she even spoke to him after this. He looked to where she’d disappeared, wishing he could chase her and explain, say he was sorry, that it had just been fear and worry rising to the surface.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. She didn’t trust him, would probably throw all the things he’d done wrong back in his face. And she would be right.
Here he was, a temporary Ringmaster without a tent. What could they do? Would they be able to fix a giant hole like that? But even if they could get it fixed fast, he hadn’t figured out his blocking, so they wouldn’t be able to create the usual magic for the show anyway. He pressed his lips together. First things first. “We need to clean up in here,” he said, turning to Viktor.
Viktor nodded. “But we also need to know what caused it. We can’t have this happening again.”
The two men walked around the site, under the ladder, and around the area where the high-wire rigging had fallen. At first, Jack couldn’t tell anything from what he was seeing, except it was a lot more complex than he’d realized.
But despite his lack of knowledge, it was soon obvious. Ropes had been cut in several vital places. It had only been a matter of time before the whole network came crashing down. Every time he pictured Rilla falling on the ladder, he clenched his hands tighter. Finally, he felt the sting of cut flesh and looked down to see crescent-shaped marks of blood on his palms.
At some point, Joey joined them, taking pictures with a small camera. Viktor pointed to a couple of the cut ropes and had him take pictures of the ladder where it still poked precariously into the tent.
Viktor’s sons arrived, all six of them, along with Buildmaster Davos and members of his crew. All their faces were grim; everyone knew what a ripped canvas meant to the Carnival. Viktor and Davos sat down with a huge drawing board, trying to work out the best way to dismantle and put it all back together in time for their performance tomorrow night.
“We’ll have to cancel tonight. Nothing we can do about it,” Davos said to Jack.
Jack’s heart sank, but he nodded. “We’ll offer refunds or new tickets for tomorrow night. I’ll get Frankie and Joey to put out the news on the social media sites and the new website. And local radio.” It couldn’t have come at a worse time. They
’d already closed the show for the food poisoning. Money was tight enough; they didn’t need another canceled night to add to it.
When they eventually began to put their muscle into dismantling the poles and the rigging, Jack was right in the middle, working up a sweat. It felt good to do some hard work, to forget everything else that was going wrong, including how he was even now robbing them all of their talents.
He was so preoccupied he didn’t even notice the first visitors.
Joey led them into the big top, two men and a woman. “Uh, boss. These folk want to help.” Joey sounded uncertain and he gestured lamely at the three newcomers.
“What do they want to help with?” Jack glanced up at the three, unsure what he could be talking about.
“They want to help us. To put the canvas back together. They’re from a local sail-making company.”
Jack looked up sharply. “Sail-making?” He turned properly to the three new people. They appeared to be boaties; they had that strange center of balance unique to people who spent a lot of time on the water.
One of the men stepped forward. “We heard about the rip, and we’d like to help,” he said. “I was friends with Kara’s father. She told me the other day what you’ve been doing for her.”
“You heard about our rip? From where?”
The woman gave him a puzzled look. “It’s all over social media. Photos of where it was cut and everything. Everyone in town’s talking about it.”
Jack studied their faces. Now that he was over his initial shock, he could see they were serious. “Go see that man over there and tell him I sent you. Say what you do, as well.” He jerked his head toward Davos, who was in one corner, yelling commands at those around him.
It wasn’t long before the next person arrived, and the next. For more than an hour, a stream of people appeared at the tent, all offering help. Jack accepted without thinking about it, appreciating the courtesy and setting people to work alongside Carnival workers who could guide them.
He didn’t think about the downside until he saw a man pull out his phone and film the work. Jack stilled, the implications freezing him to the spot.
“That wise, Jack?” Viktor stood just behind him, his tone disapproving.
Jack glanced at Viktor then to the man. Was it sensible to let him expose the rip online? He didn’t know. They definitely didn’t need any more bad publicity.
But as he watched, he saw the man was simply filming all the people putting it right, the positive gathering taking place around him. Jack relaxed. It had been the online photos that pulled people in here in the first place. It wouldn’t hurt to let the natural flow of social media generate more publicity. Perhaps it would mean full houses in the next three nights.
“I don’t think it’s going to harm us—no worse than we are already, anyway. It’s a gesture of support.” Jack felt the heavy load lifting from his shoulders. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad after all.
Viktor gave him a stern look but went back to dismantling the rigging without another word.
Despite his newfound calm, when Jack looked up five minutes later and saw the news crew, his heart leaped into his mouth.
They liked an angle, a story that would get the viewers or readers. He wasn’t sure there was enough in patching up a rip. He straightened up and walked over to the new arrivals.
“My name is Jane Lewis,” said the woman, holding out her hand and smiling at Jack. “We heard there was a big event happening around here and didn’t want to miss a thing.”
“Uh… Thanks for coming. But we don’t really need…” Jack gestured to the camera, at a loss for what to say to discourage them.
“Don’t you worry, Jack. This is a feel-good piece about the local community helping the Carnival. I talked to Deputy Fordham, and he told us it was definitely some kind of vandalism attempt that brought down the tent. Nothing to do with faulty equipment at all.” The look in her eyes suggested she wished it were otherwise, but she would put up with a human-interest story if she had to.
Jane’s suit was immaculate and her makeup perfect, but she insisted on getting right into the thick of things. “What kind of person would I be if I came along and watched all these people helping and didn’t help out myself?” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “I remember Kara’s car accident. I was just starting out. She’s a brave girl.”
“Not to mention the extra brownie points she’ll get with her audience,” muttered her cameraman when she was out of earshot. “She’s not stupid.”
Jack stood watching the cameraman and the news reporter for a while. Around them, the area was being cleared and then rebuilt under the watchful eye of Viktor. The sail-makers had brought their gear and were patching the roof, while several local engineers and builders along with Viktor’s son Henry were helping restructure the rigging. Davos walked around, giving quiet orders where needed and keeping an eye on the overall work being done by both Carnival folks and the local community volunteers.
He’d never seen anything like it. Complete strangers offering their help. Some of them knew Kara, or had at least heard of her, but many were just there to help, to offer their skills. It was amazing. Emotion swelled in his chest, the warmth spreading around his body. He smiled. This was going to work out. He just knew it.
“Knight,” a stern voice called out behind him.
Jack turned and saw Matt Fordham striding toward him. He acknowledged the deputy.
“I’ve spoken to a couple of the engineers and Viktor. They’re all certain it was deliberate vandalism.”
Despite knowing this already, anger crawled back over the good feeling in Jack’s gut. He pictured Rilla’s body hurtling toward the earth and gritted his teeth. “More than vandalism, Deputy. Attempted murder.”
The deputy nodded as if he had expected nothing less. “I’m thinking there will be multiple charges. But I need to know why. Has this kind of thing happened before?”
Jack sighed. “Come with me, Fordham, and I’ll fill you in.” He’d have to tell the deputy about Christoph, but he didn’t think it was likely the strongman was involved in this latest stunt. Not only that, but Christoph would never have attempted to hurt his own wife.
It also meant that maybe Christoph wasn’t really the saboteur.
CHAPTER THIRTY
It took a long time for the shaking to stop.
She’d taken a hot shower, letting the pressured water pulse over her body far longer than usual. The memory of the ladder’s sudden devastating drop kept flashing through her head. Each time, her breath hitched and panic rose up her throat and into her mouth, leaving a bitter, metallic taste on her tongue.
She wasn’t afraid of heights, and she’d had things go wrong during performances before. But never to this extent, and never by someone who just wanted to cause harm.
Pulling on her favorite pair of jeans and a comfy hooded sweatshirt, Rilla sat quietly on her bed, her legs dangling to the floor, her eyes closed. She concentrated on taking long, slow breaths, simply moving the air in and out, trying to block all thoughts of the fall.
Frankie had walked her back to her caravan, one arm around her shoulders, hugging her tight. He’d helped her clean up her head wound and talked her through Jack’s reaction.
At first, Jack’s anger had shocked her, and she’d tried to understand what she did to deserve it. He’d thrown his new status as the Ringmaster in her face, right when she was most vulnerable.
But Frankie was right. Jack hadn’t meant it like that. He had been shocked by the damage, and was dealing with being an absorber, along with everything else. She shouldn’t feel this hurt.
There were more important things to worry about right now than Jack’s anger. For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what they were going to do. It seemed like this might be the end, one step too far. There would be no show tonight, and a small part of her wondered if there would be any shows ever again.
Davos, Viktor and the build crews would be at the tent, doing their
best to patch it up. She knew she should be there as well—they probably needed every pair of hands they could get—but she couldn’t make herself stand up and go back. She couldn’t face the scene where they’d fallen.
And she most definitely didn’t want to see Jack acting out his new position as if he were lord and master.
Her lips tightened and she clenched her fists on the bed.
Her father would have been there, whatever had happened. Her father wouldn’t have left.
Grimacing, she stood, her body already starting to ache from pulled muscles and bruises. She slipped on a pair of sneakers and headed out the door with shaky but determined steps.
Her pace slowed the closer she got to the big top. There were people everywhere, many she didn’t recognize. Had they opened the gates for this evening after all? Perhaps they hadn’t been told the Carnival was closed.
But when she looked more closely at the people around her, they were all dressed in casual work clothing and many carried hammers or ropes or other equipment. All the activity was focused on the big top at the center of the Carnival strip.
She approached the closest tent flap, around to one side, and pulled it open. Inside the massive tent, it was a flurry of activity. People climbed a newly built ladder to the high-wire frame, also newly reconstructed. High above, the rip she remembered so vividly had almost disappeared. A man on a safety line was dangling beside the small patch that was still open, using a small hand-stitching machine to close the gap.
Standing in the corner, Rilla could only watch. She shook her head, her frown one of confusion rather than anger. She’d never seen anything like it, not in all her years in the Carnival. Even her father, with all his charisma, had never been able to do anything like this. Somehow, a connection had been made with the local people of Mountain Springs. The lines were being blurred.
She saw Jack; he was part of a group testing the newly erected rigging. Men and women, both from the Carnival and outsiders, surrounded him. Jack’s T-shirt was lined with sweat, his hair mussed up, but he grinned at something one of the others said to him, and her heart leaped. How had he managed all this?
