by Sarah Noffke
Zuma squeezed Jack’s shoulder once before stepping away from him and toward his mother. “Jack and I don’t have to be engaged for me to make this decision. He will be cared for by his family. The one at Vagabond Circus because to us he is no burden. He is a gift.”
She turned to Jack. “Is that all right with you? Because whether you can walk or not, whether you need around the clock care and therapy, I know people who would be happy to provide that for you. They’d be honored to be a part of your recovery.”
Jack pressed his lips together, lines forming on them as he did. His eyes watered as he nodded, a sweet conviction in the combination of movements.
Zuma graced him with a heartfelt smile, as she sent him a telepathic message. I love you, Jack. You’re not alone in this.
He nodded again. Thank you, he said back over the link.
Zuma then turned to Dr. Chang. “As Jack’s doctor,” she said, the implication heavy on the words, “would you please authorize him to be discharged as soon as possible? I can guarantee he’ll be given incredible care.”
He shook his black and silver head of hair. “Jack just had a major surgery. And—”
“But once moved, he’ll be under the care of Nurse Fanny Swedlund,” Zuma said.
Dr. Chang held up his hand to stop Zuma, but then paused. Straightened. “Wait, did you just say Nurse Fanny? As in the one known for—”
“For the numerous cases of miraculous healing. Yes,” Zuma said, grateful this doctor was familiar with the nurse’s work. Twenty years ago she had been a legend in Los Angeles, but she’d disappeared, saying she was retiring early. The truth was she was overworked and drained by her responsibilities. There were always more victims to heal and then problems arose when she started to fail. When the first few patients died from ailments she had healed easily in the past, the nurse went into a depression. She couldn’t heal everyone and the act of trying to was killing her. That was just before she went into retirement, but what few knew was Dr. Dave Raydon had saved her. He’d found her and offered the woman a job caring for only a few patients, where she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by cases. And he also offered an opportunity to have the one thing she always wanted and could never have: children. Fanny was born a strong Dream Traveler, with the ability to heal, but she had a body which was unfit to carry a child. And ironically the healer couldn’t fix herself. She didn’t take long to think over the ringmaster’s offer. She knew that God worked through holy interventions and that was one of them for her. Fanny accepted and had spent the last twenty years happy and fulfilled and successful at Vagabond Circus.
“I can’t believe it,” Dr. Chang said, shaking his head. “You know Fanny Swedlund?”
“She’s like a mother to us,” Zuma said, and she found too much delight in the squeal that popped out of Mrs. Fuller’s mouth.
Dr. Chang scratched his chin, his eyes off in thought. “Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Nurse Fanny doesn’t have any documented proof of healing bones, but if anyone could… Well, I think it’s safe to say she’s more than qualified to care for Jack. Actually I dare say that with skills like hers and a reputation like hers, Jack would be in the best possible hands. And—”
“Dr. Chang,” Keith said, cutting him off, “you can’t seriously be considering releasing Jack.”
“Are you aware of the things Nurse Fanny has done?” Dr. Chang asked his colleague.
“Well, yes. But she’s only a nurse,” Dr. Fuller said.
“She’s a nurse with a much better success rate than any doctor I know,” Dr. Chang said.
Keith didn’t reply, but instead crossed his arms and rolled his eyes like a punished child would.
“And although I’m happy to release Jack to Fanny, I’m unsure of why we need to rush it,” Dr. Chang said to Zuma.
“Because I don’t want to be here any longer,” Jack answered, bringing everyone’s attention on him. “I need to be back with my circus family where I can have peace.”
Dr. Chang nodded. “I understand. I really do, but—”
“Please, Doctor,” Zuma said.
“Very well,” he said after a moment of deliberation. “If he’ll be transported straight to Nurse Fanny’s care then I’ll release him as soon as it’s safe, with certain travel stipulations.”
Zuma nodded proudly. “Fantastic.”
“James,” Dr. Fuller said, stepping forward as Zuma backed away to Jack’s side, putting her hand in his. “I really must interject my opinion on this. Your decision to release Ja—”
“It is his decision,” Jack said, his voice at first cracking in his throat. He coughed past the stress and said, “And this is mine and Zuma’s decision. I don’t need your clinical opinion any further.”
His brother shook his head, a look of disapproval on his face. “Jack, you’re not thinking—”
“Please don’t burden yourself with this any further. You can go. All of you,” Jack said, a new authority in his voice. “Why don’t you take Father to a place where he can watch the game in peace?”
His father then jerked his gaze to Jack. “What? Oh no, I wasn’t watching th—”
“I think Jack needs his rest,” Dr. Chang said, reading the cues and shuffling the three unwanted family members to the exit.
“Son,” his mother said, stopping at the door, “I’m very disappointed in the decisions you’ve made here.”
“Disappointed? What’s new?!” Jack almost shouted, his face red. Zuma gripped his hand firmer and tried to ease him back.
Mrs. Fuller straightened, looking to try and bolster herself against the attack, but Zuma saw the break in the woman’s confidence. “This behavior is completely ungrateful based on what your family is willing to do for you, Jack.”
“Mrs. Fuller,” and it was Finley who stepped out from his place by the wall to say this. He pulled the door back open, encouraging the way to exit. “Expecting Jack to be grateful that you’re willing to pay to pawn him off isn’t only ridiculous, it is also—”
“It is exactly the type of disappointing behavior I expect from my heartless mother,” Jack cut in. His eyes were smoldering, set on the woman regarding him with contempt in the doorway.
Mrs. Fuller first looked at Finley and next at her son. She then took a sharp pivot and stomped out of the room.
Jack directed his eyes on Finley, who was holding the door open still. “Thanks, man,” he said, his hands pressed down firmly into the bed.
“Not a problem,” Finley said. “I’ll be outside if you two need anything.” He gave Zuma and then Jack an empathetic expression and left, knowing much grieving would need to take place in that room.
Chapter Sixty-Six
It was only once the door was shut and only Zuma occupied his room that Jack broke down completely. For the better part of an hour Jack didn’t say a word. Instead he went through quiet moments of chest-shaking sobs and then face-reddening cries which could be heard down the hallway. Zuma sat frozen on his bed. She held him when that made sense and then allowed him to throw himself back on his pillows when that was what he wanted. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t try to tell him everything would be all right. Zuma would never lie to her friend, even to make him feel better. After an hour, the only thing she said was the one thing she knew to be true.
“I’m here for you, Jack. I’m not leaving you,” she said over and over again.
After the tears had retreated and the hyperventilated breathing dissipated, Jack brought his brown eyes bathed in a sea of red up to meet hers. “I’m an acrobat who can’t walk,” he said, his voice a haunted whisper that sent chills down Zuma’s back.
“Don’t think about that now, Jack. This is just for now. The future won’t always be like this,” she said, holding both his hands in hers.
He nodded roughly. “But what am I going to do if this is my future and my legs never work? Some mobility won’t do it for me, Zuma. I’m an acrobat. I need to move. To flip. To twirl,” he said, the panic creeping back in
to his voice.
“Jack…,” she said and paused. Zuma was at a loss. She didn’t know what she’d do if she could never perform on the trapeze again. The idea made her want to give up. To quit life. To just lie down and die.
Jack, sensing Zuma’s grief over his predicament, erupted again into the worst fit of tears yet, a scream barreled out of him that made the windows shake.
Zuma grabbed both his arms and pressed her hands into them expending a force she’d never used when touching Jack. She knew she had to get his attention. To put his outburst to a halt. “Stop it. Stop it, Jack,” she said, looking straight into his crazed eyes.
Just then a nurse rushed into the room but Zuma didn’t release Jack, and he stayed focused on her intense gaze.
“Don’t you do this, Jack. Don’t you lose hope. Fanny is going to fix you. Do you hear me?” she said, her words strong and full of conviction.
He nodded and then pulled her into him, hugging her with a fervent need.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Paralyzed. Titus felt paralyzed as he stood in the center of the big top, a hundred eyes on him. Vagabond Circus could have had the memorial service at a church. They could have even done it outside or at a hotel conference room. However, Titus knew what Dave would have wanted. In all things he knew what Dave wanted, but still he had trouble making decisions. It was the logical side of himself that Titus had lost in all this grief. That was the part of Titus that partnered with Dave’s emotional side and made sound decisions. Now he was at a loss for the practicality of life. Everything was bright colors, loud sounds, and an emotional blur. He was alive in the world he thought Dave lived in full-time. That was what his grief had done to him. It had transported Titus into Dave’s world.
The tight collar of Titus’s stiff shirt pressed into his esophagus. It had been many years since he had a reason to wear a suit. His niece’s wedding was probably the last time, he thought. Was that also the last night he’d spent away from the circus? He’d blocked out the memory. Blocked out anything that didn’t have the backdrop of the big top in it.
Sweat slipped down Titus’s long forehead and sat on his eyelids, threatening to drip through his short lashes and into his eyes. He pulled the teal blue handkerchief from his breast pocket. He thought it would have been used for someone else’s tears that evening as he wiped it across his brow. It was especially humid for a late autumn day in southern Oregon.
Titus cleared his throat. Just give Dave what he would have wanted, he thought. Titus closed his eyes. Honest words from the heart.
“Don’t give people what they want, give them what they need,” Titus began in a low voice. “Those were words Dave had written on a piece of paper and taped on the inside of his laptop. And I may have known him better than anyone and I can tell you he lived his life that way. He lived his life by those words.” Titus laughed. It was a cold ironic chuckle, his eyes on the audience, not really seeing them. “In every way that man, Dr. Dave Raydon, gave me what I needed. He gave me a downright-honest-to-God challenge.” Another chuckle slipped out of his mouth, this one marking his eyes with a bitter fondness. “Dave could have told me what everyone else did. ‘Hey, your accounting job will work out.’ ‘Hang in there.’ ‘Don’t give up.’ That’s what most everyone told me over twenty years ago. Most therapists would have told me to find a hobby. Dave, however, told me to quit my job. He told me to quit being a wimp and join him in the scariest venture that could very well be doomed to fail. Dave told me if I didn’t join him that I’d regret it and die alone in a job I hated.”
Titus dropped his eyes to the podium that held the notes he wasn’t using. When he brought his gaze up he was smiling. It was a rare thing to see on the man’s face. “That was exactly what I needed to hear. And every day since, Dave gave me a challenge that overwhelmed my thoughts and pushed me past limits I never thought I’d reach. And I have never been more rewarded than since I took on those challenges. Dr. Dave Raydon gave me what I needed in life. He pushed me to take a risk.”
A crew member in the back row blew their nose, filling the short moment of silence in Titus’s speech.
“And Sunshine,” the creative director said, looking at the girl. For a rare occasion she had her black hair out of her face and off her shoulders. It was arranged into a high bun which accentuated her sharp porcelain white cheekbones. “Dave could have given you a few years to get acclimated to circus life, but he didn’t. The ringmaster assigned you your very own act two days after adopting you.”
From fifteen feet away, Titus could see Sunshine’s jaw flexing as she pressed her teeth together, and her face grew gradually redder. “To some that might have seemed presumptuous. However, Dave gave you want you needed. He gave you something to own, a job to be yours, a way for you to funnel your talent and distract your heart until it was ready to be mended.”
Titus paused. Sucked in a breath. Then he rotated his eyes on the woman in the front row. “And Fanny, you’ve been a nurse for three decades. You’re a world renowned healer. That was the obvious role for you at Vagabond Circus, but Dave asked that it be your secondary role. He gave you what you needed.” Titus hesitated, holding the older woman’s periwinkle eyes. She smiled at him as a tear took a haphazard path down her face.
“Dave gave you kids,” Titus said, his voice suddenly hoarse. He cleared his throat and looked to the back of the tent, his eyes hovering just over the crowd. “Bill, he assigned you to the grill where you learned you had a passion to create culinary masterpieces. Ian, he put you on rig crew where you could work with your hands and ignore your head for once. Every single person under this big top has that one thing Dave gave them. I know it because I know that man. He didn’t grant one person one thing while ignoring another. Dave loved all of you.” Titus then forced himself to focus his eyes on several people, taking in their grieved expressions. “All of you. Every single one of you has been given something you needed by Dr. Dave Raydon. He hardly slept trying to meet your needs.”
Again Titus laughed, but this one brought a sharp set of tears to his throat and then his eyes. “And you know, I never completely got it. How could one man care about so many, wanting what was inherently good for them? I watched him for twenty years, in awe that a heart so big could beat inside such a short man.” Another laugh, but this one was shared with many of the audience members. “Today we remember the man who started Vagabond Circus. And that accomplishment might be what Dave is most remembered for, but I want all of you to specifically remember him for what he individually gave you. Today we remember the man who brought magic back to this world by lighting a spark in all of you. You are all his legacy. You are the magic of Vagabond Circus.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Jack wouldn’t allow Finley and Zuma to stay with him that night. Even Finley tried to send Zuma home, stating he’d be happy to keep Jack company at the hospital. However, the paralyzed acrobat had refused. Jack stated he’d get his fill the next day during the long car ride and wanted some peace and alone time beforehand. It surprised Finley that Jack had already constructed a mask and was wearing it over his pain.
Zuma and Finley returned to her house to find the smells of garlic and cilantro wafting through the kitchen.
“I thought we’d have a fiesta since it’s your last night here for a while,” her mother said as she chopped an onion and tossed it into a pan.
Zuma laid her head on her arms which were draped across the counter bar. “My friend has just learned he’s paralyzed. I don’t really feel like partying,” she said.
Finley sat beside her, holding his own head up, but only barely. Emotions and exhaustion were starting to threaten his ability to operate normally.
“But he’s alive, Zuma,” Samara said. “So don’t you see, there is still something to celebrate.”
“He can’t walk, Mom,” Zuma shot back, whipping her head up.
“I realize that, Z,” her mother said, sympathy strong in her tone. “But this is part of Jack’s j
ourney. Is it a clear or unobstructed path? No. But Jack will make his way and this has the potential to bring him great growth and maybe fulfillment in ways he never would have considered.” She laid down the knife and looked at her daughter, her eyes earnest. “Because, sweetheart, I have to believe that what has happened to Jack is unfortunate, but it is for the best.”
“I wonder if he can still perform adequately down there,” Dakota said, her eyes on the ceiling while her mind really considered the question.
“Dakota!” Zuma said, turning and slapping her sister’s arm. “Do you ever think of anything but that? Show a little respect.”
“Hey, I have lots of respect. I’d totally do a cripple,” her sister said, like bragging on a charitable act she’d done.
Zuma dropped her head back into her arms. She listened to her mother chop and Dakota move out of her seat. And then she sensed her sister just behind Finley.
“So, Mr. Hottie, how about that massage? I give you one and you give me one,” Dakota said, her voice singsong. Zuma raised her head in time to catch her sister wrapping her fingers around Finley’s shoulders.
“Hands off him,” Zuma snapped, heat in her voice.
Dakota threw her hands up and looked at her sister, a naughty glint in her eyes. “Oh, have you suddenly laid claim to this one now?” she said, sounding amused.
