Movement beside her caught Chandler’s attention.
Hank.
He had a mug of coffee in his hand. His jeans were loose and his feet bare in leather flip-flops. He wore a T-shirt proudly boasting the name of a local gas station.
“Aren’t you cold?” Chandler tossed at him, glancing at his brawny bare arms.
“Me?” Hank winked and took a gulp of his coffee. “Nah.”
“My uncle signed off on the renovation proposal for the depot.” Chandler hadn’t told anyone that yet. Hadn’t mentioned either that Jackson had been assigned to a different project.
“Great.” Hank nodded. “It’d be nice not to have the place torn down.”
Chandler drew in a deep breath, fixing her eyes on Peter as he rolled in the leaves. “I just hope everything that happened there—well, that it’s not a deterrent for some people. Lottie often told me it’s hard to sell a home if someone was murdered in it, just because of superstitions.”
Hank shrugged. “But this isn’t a house. And, unfortunately, I think the history behind it might lend toward more interest. People get excited about morbid stuff like that.”
Chandler turned and eyed him. “How did the depot door get unlocked the night of the ghost tour? And the screams . . . was that really Patty Luchent?”
Hank raised his brows and gave her a squinty grin. “I’m a felon, remember? I can think of all sorts of ways someone could have unlocked the padlock and gotten the door open.”
Chandler stuck her tongue out at him. “That’s not an answer.”
Hank chuckled. “I think the likely answer to the question is that your contractor who visited did in fact leave the door unlocked—just like we’d questioned.”
“I’m still curious, though,” she ventured. “I mean, how Patty Luchent’s necklace made its way into the secret drawer in that desk. And what the heck has been making all that noise upstairs in the costume house and tossing boxes around.”
“I doubt we’ll ever know about the necklace. Maybe the killer removed it and secreted it away? Maybe someone else hid it to protect the Ripley name? As for the noises . . .” Hank gave her a side-eye scrunch of his face. “Maybe it’s Patty? Just like Cru and Lottie say?”
Chandler’s shoulders dropped and she stared at Hank. “You really believe in ghosts?”
He smiled. “It’s sorta fun.”
“I think it’s probably a squirrel. Or a bat or something,” Chandler concluded.
Hank’s arm draped over her shoulder as he dropped a kiss on her temple. “I didn’t know squirrels could toss boxes.”
“Oh, shut up!” Chandler laughed and slapped his arm.
Hank ducked and gave her a glare. “Hey, watch the coffee!”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Chandler repeated with conviction. She didn’t.
“That’s fine. Don’t then.” Hank winked. “But if you ever see cigarette ashes upstairs, well, then you’ll know it was Patty for sure.”
Chandler’s eyes widened. “What?”
“She smoked. Lottie says every now and then people see little piles of ashes at the depot or the costume house.”
“Knock it off!” Chandler laughed again. She could tell Hank was toying with her now. Teasing, having fun in trying to creep her out.
“Well, I do know about the screams on the ghost tour,” Hank offered.
Chandler waited.
“Cru admitted that was all part of the ghost-tour ruse. They’d hidden a small outdoor sound system, and all he had to do was push play on his remote. The screams broadcast through the well-hidden speakers, which get people all worked up and freaked. In fact, he was the one in the depot the night we met. He’d squeezed in that side window like I’d thought might have happened. He needed to check one of the Bluetooth speakers he’d stashed inside. Lottie saw the light and didn’t know it was Cru or she’d have never called the cops. He feels a bit stupid about it all.”
Chandler leaned into Hank, resting her head against his arm. “Go figure. It sure scared the life out of me.”
“Yeah. Cru said they’re going to get rid of that part in the future.”
“Good riddance. He’ll be lucky I can give my uncle a good word on his behalf and spare him trespassing charges. I know Cru’s intentions weren’t to harm anyone or anything.” Chandler looked up at Hank then, and he dropped his green gaze on her. “Thank you, Hank,” she whispered.
He smiled, and it reached his eyes. It made the corners crease and his severe features soften. “You’re gonna make it.” Hank lifted his mug to take another casual sip. “You’ve got people who want to help you. So does Peter. I know it’s going to be tough on him, working through the aftereffects of Margie, but you’ll make it. You’re not alone.”
Chandler looked out the window again. At Lottie and Cru. At her parents. At Denny. Then she looked back at Hank. “I have my tribe, don’t I?” she breathed in a thankful whisper.
Hank dropped another kiss on the top of her head. “The best families are made of broken people.” Another kiss on her temple. “Because we get each other. We see each other.”
“I think that’s what God intended.” Chandler raised up on her tiptoes and returned Hank’s gift of kisses with one of her own. A little one. For now. Maybe later she’d have more gumption to stake her claim more seriously. For now, she was content. She had come out of hiding. She had received help. She hadn’t lost but had only gained.
And that was the beauty of being seen.
PIPPA
Pippa sat on a barrel, her legs dangling, her dress hiked above her calves. She wasn’t worried that her twisted leg showed. In a way, she was proud of it. She was proud to be where she belonged. In the circus, watching Ernie lead Lily around the elephant-house ring, her father, Clive, leaning against the wall next to her, with Jake on the other side. Ernie tapped Lily on the rump with his prod. A light tap. One the calf responded to as she took another step forward.
Pippa leaned into Jake. Closing her eyes, she listened. She listened to the sounds of the elephants, the commands of Ernie, the distant whistle of the train, and the voices of laborers outside the elephant house preparing the circus grounds for winter. She drew in a deep breath, letting the pungent scents fill her. Of coal fumes from the furnace that heated the house, straw and manure, of crisp autumn, of Jake’s cigar, and of Clive’s aftershave. She let her eyes see into herself. Into the person she was becoming. A daughter of the circus. A woman with a purpose.
And in her heart echoed the voice of Patty Luchent.
“We were all meant to be . . . Providence places you there . . . who knew God had one of me up His sleeve?”
Who indeed?
Pippa reached out and scratched Penn’s nose as her dog came up beside them.
It was a peaceful thing. The knowing. The knowing that she had never truly been unseen. She had only been lost. And even in that lostness she had been given direction. Maybe Clive’s faith and her mother’s hope for the future were founded on One more capable and more invested in her than Pippa had realized. Maybe it was worth pursuing faith. For in the pursuing, one must come out of hiding and run toward grace. Because it was only grace that would ever truly save.
Pippa opened her eyes. She drank in the sight of Lily, the now-unbroken elephant calf. Her tail whipping back and forth, her ears flapping as if she were a bird taking flight. The elephant turned her head, searching, and her dark eyes met Pippa’s. Lily’s trunk lifted as if in a wave, and her mouth stretched into a smile.
No. Life was far from perfect. The circus celebrated that. And while some believed that it only mocked it, Pippa knew better. She knew deeper. She knew, in her soul, that they found communion under the circus banner. And they would rescue each other, because that’s what family did.
Author’s Note
The circus has always been a part of my heart and my childhood. Even though I’m an adult and “home” changes with moves and relocations, growing up in the shadow of the Ringling brothers’ wint
ering grounds made the glory of the circus more real to me than if I had merely read about it in a history book. I remember riding the elephants, I remember the endless circles ridden on the merry-go-round, the pumping cadence of the calliope, the roar of the tigers, and the sight of elephants in the river bathing.
Running around the circus ring, under the Big Top, as a circus clown is a feat I’ll never forget. The stone-etched elephants carved into old walls around town. Circus murals painted and faded on old buildings. The theater, the circus wagons, the red and gold and purple and silver. Royal colors. A celebration.
But the circus also has a darker side to it. One of mockery, of judgment, the diminishing of humanity, and in some circumstances the actual abuse of man and beast. It only proves that while beauty can be tainted by the prowess of a wicked nature, it can still be a glimpse into the talent and magnificence of God and His creation.
In the end, I think the circus discovered something too many of us turned into a sideshow. What some mocked, some embraced, what some saw as entertainment, some made a family. The people, the animals, the aura that is the circus . . . it’s beautiful. It is our history. It should always be preserved.
For more information, visit: https://www.circusworldbaraboo.org/.
Questions for Discussion
The circus was a foundational form of entertainment in the United States starting in the last half of the nineteenth century. When you think of the circus, what images come to mind?
Chandler tries hard to disguise her struggles with her autoimmune disorder for fear it will hijack the perception she is a capable female in both the workplace and as a mother. How have personal health shortcomings impacted your self-confidence? What about others you know who suffer with health issues that threaten to compromise their view of themselves?
When Chandler meets Hank Titus, she draws conclusions about his trustworthiness based on his appearance and his lack of cultural etiquette. What parallels do you see regarding Chandler’s fear that others will judge her based on stereotype? What other stereotypes can shape our perspective of other people?
Pippa Ripley embarks on a journey, going from being a submissive, nonvocal daughter to finding her own path and independence. In what ways can women be independent and submissive simultaneously?
Much of Chandler’s and Pippa’s struggles are rooted in the fear of their being seen for who they really are. What has held you back from allowing people to know the real you? What are some of your greatest fears about being truly seen by others?
Georgiana Farnsworth approaches the controversial subject of animal rights as it relates to the circus and entertainment-based animal performances. What do you believe is the appropriate position on the inclusion of animals in entertainment?
The Watchman’s motivation was one of possessiveness, while the other serial killer’s motives were based on a need to dominate and control women. What was the difference between the Watchman’s possessive nature and the nature of the serial killer?
How has your faith affected your sense of self-worth and how you view others? How does a relationship with Jesus Christ change your perspective when you learn of others’ struggles?
Acknowledgments
A huge thank-you to the archives and the museum of Circus World in Baraboo, Wisconsin. What a fabulous place that should always be remembered as the home of the Greatest Show on Earth!
Thank you to my bestie, Julie Anderson, for helping me research, for lending me her Pupper Ice as the model for Penn, and for educating me about the plight of, and highly misunderstood, pit bull. Another creature sorely understated for their loyalty, their caregiving, and a history of nannying that shows how much these animals can truly love.
Massive thanks to my own personal Peter Pan, who helped me dream up Nitro Steel and Rustman. Who was super-duper important in making this book happen. Who makes this momma-heart turn into a momma-bear when it comes to her little boy. I love you, Peter Pan!
Thanks to Tracee Chu, who once again makes the Acknowledgments for her lending a hand in helping me think through the story. It was her idea to give Chandler a health issue. It was her idea to push me to look deeper into my own struggle with Lyme disease and to summon the courage to bring awareness to an underestimated condition that can no longer be ignored.
Rich and Steve at the Coffee Bean Connection, your liquid heaven fueled this novel into being. You are both swell, and I thank the Lord He brought you into my life. May He touch the deepest recesses of your hearts.
Thanks to my parents. Both sets. Who love on the kiddos and me by giving of themselves. To my mom-in-law, who makes me diet-approved desserts and lets me sleep every Sunday in her recliner so I have the energy to work and write during the week. To my mom, who tucks me in when I’m not doing well and insists I take a nap at ten in the morning.
Special thanks to Joanne Bischof. We compared circus stories years ago, both of us wanting our stories to see the published page. While Jake is certainly no Charlie—be still my heart!—I’m so thankful our dreams have seen fruition and the circus runs thick in our imaginations to this day.
Darren Hornby, my longtime co-worker, and now the ringmaster of the entire circus town’s chamber. I’m so proud of you, my friend, and I’m so thankful for the years we have shared a mutual adoration of all things Ringling Bros. Circus.
Chandler Carlson, who’s my living proof that Chandler is most assuredly a feminine name! Thanks for letting me borrow it, my friend.
As always, I cannot forget my illustrious agent, Janet Grant, my team at Bethany House, the numerous other writers who pour their lives into mine: Anne Love, Laurie Tomlinson, Halee Matthews (who edited the early drafts of this book more times than I can count), Sarah Varland, Natalie Walters, Colleen Coble, Dani Pettrey, and Christen Krumm. YOU all are my tribe.
Finally, to my Cap’n Hook and my CoCo. You’re the other half of Peter Pan and me, and together we make quite a force.
To you, my readers . . . always, always know you were born with a purpose. That you are not hidden. That you are seen. That you will be fought for by the One who breathed you into being.
Jaime Jo Wright, the author of five novels, is winner of the Christy, Daphne du Maurier, Carol, and INSPY Awards. She’s also the Publishers Weekly and ECPA bestselling author of three novellas. Jaime works as a human resources director in Wisconsin, where she lives with her husband and two children. To learn more, visit her at jaimewrightbooks.com.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Endorsements
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
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Author’s Note
Questions for Discussion
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
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