When Stars Are Bright

by Amber R. Duell

  “No.” My voice quivers. “Christian does. Christian Van Buren.”

  “I need to make a long-distance call,” he says into the speaker. “Yes.” He pauses for what feels like an eternity and my fingers go numb. “Christian Van Buren in...”

  “Leids,” I whisper.

  “Leids, Holland.” Another pause. “There’s a Lars Van Buren,” he tells me.

  I jump at the familiar name. “That’s his father.”

  “Yes, that’s the right one. Thank you.” He hands the phone out to me. “You have two minutes before we have to leave.”

  My hand shakes as I hold the cold, heavy cone-shaped metal to my ear. What if he’s angry? What if he doesn’t want to speak with me? A shrill ringing echoes in my head, ending with a soft click and a woman’s voice saying, “hallo?”

  I lean on the desk to stop myself from falling over. “Mrs. Van Buren?”

  “Yes. Who’s calling?” she asks in Dutch.

  “Lina.” I pause, waiting to see if she reacts like she did at the garden party, but silence crackles through the line. “Lina Holt. Christian’s—”

  She breathes into the phone. “I know who you are.”

  Tears flood my eyes, spilling over. “Did Christian get my letter?”

  “A letter? He hasn’t mentioned one. Is everything all right? You sound upset.”

  I sound upset? It feels like I’m speaking to a different woman entirely. Surely my mother went to them when she couldn’t find me, but Mrs. Van Buren is so calm.

  “I was kidnapped. I’m in New York.” I cover my mouth to muffle a sob. How can she not know? “May I speak with him?”

  “Kidnapped? My gracious. Are you hurt?”

  “I’m… safe.”

  “Christian is attending a party at Cornelia Jonckheer’s this afternoon.”

  My whole body lurches forward into the desk. “He’s at a party?”

  “His engagement party, yes,” she says in an airy voice.

  “Engagement?” I squeeze the phone with a sweaty palm. “Christian’s engaged? To Cornelia Jonckheer?”

  “Of course.”

  My vision tunnels, my chest cracking apart. “I… Has he mentioned me at all?”

  “Not since you did the smart thing and left him.” She sighs. “I have to join the celebration; I’m late as it is. I’m glad to hear you’re safe.”

  “But—” The line clicks. I hold the receiver away from my ear and stare at the black steel. Christian didn’t tell her I was missing. He’s been too busy with Cornelia Jonckheer. I want it to be a terrible lie, but surely his mother isn’t that cold-hearted. Tears run down my cheeks, racing toward my jaw, scalding. The receiver slips from my fingers.

  Nik dives, catching it before it hits the desk, and sets it back in its cradle. “I’m sorry, Canary. I thought this would help.”

  “I did too.” I scrub the tears from my face. At least now I know not to wait for his help. That I’ll have to go through with my own plan. “That was Christian’s mother.”

  “That’s great, isn’t it?”

  “He wasn’t at home.” I hiccup. “He was at his engagement party.”

  “Ah, Canary.” He scratches the back of his head. “I’m sorry. Maybe there’s an explanation.”

  I can’t imagine what Christian could say to explain away his silence. His engagement. He was hours away from proposing to me. He never mentioned Cornelia before. Unless… Unless he accepted the end of our relationship with ease, and, if so, did he ever love me at all? I can’t breathe. Everything appears sharper, colors darker. Oh, God. I can’t breathe.

  “We have to get back,” Nik says.

  I nod and the room spins a bit. “Nik, I… Tha—”

  “Don’t.” He flinches and backs away. “Don’t thank me. I should’ve done this when you first got here. I haven’t been able to forget the way you looked when you came off that ship.” He opens the office door and leads the way back through the kitchen before I can say anything else.

  Pat waits by the door, staring at a pocket watch. When he notices us, he stuffs it in his pocket. Nik stops so close their arms touch and a flash of silver passes from Nik’s hand to Pat’s.

  “It’s strong stuff,” Nik warns. Pat inclines his head and swings the door open for us.

  A week goes by. Then another. Two long weeks without a repaired telephone at the theater. Christian may not care, but my mother will. I sent another letter to let her know I’m alive in case Christian’s mother didn’t mention my call, and promised that I’m trying to get back to her. The green carpet bag hidden beneath my bed is stuffed with canned goods in case my escape calls for spending any time on the street.

  I wander behind the troupe in Central Park, listening to them laugh, with my eyes focused on Augustine’s back. She wears a gray waist-length knit cardigan over a blue dress despite the humidity and a matching bumper hat as she limps along the edge of the stony path. She told me the letter was mailed right out, just like the one to Christian had been. I sigh.

  “Careful, Canary.” Nik grabs my upper arms from behind and steers me around a pile of horse dung.

  I pull from away from him. Before our first show, he said we would talk but he’s been around less and less. And now, during practice, someone is always watching us. It’s usually Chamberlain but sometimes Augustine or even Theresa. I don’t know what Nik’s secret can be but I know he has one.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  Nik’s lips quirk up but the smile doesn’t stay. Dark circles paint the skin under his eyes and the lids droop with fatigue. “Don’t mention it.” His thumbs hook under his suspenders. “Gus would never let you back in the car with that on your shoes, and it’s a long walk back.”

  We fall into step with each other, and I chew on the inside of my cheek. “You’ve been busy lately. Did you find yourself a girl?” It would make sense, and I could stop feeling like I did something to make him want to avoid me.

  He throws his head back and laughs. “I wish.”

  “Disappearing late at night and not coming back until dawn?” I smirk. “I’ve been there. You can’t fool me.”

  Stepping in front of me, he walks backward. “There’s no girl.”

  I cock my head, my hair frizzing around my face despite the copious amounts of product, and raise my eyebrows. “Then what are you up to?”

  His eyes dart to the side, and he turns to walk forward again. “How do you know I don’t come back until dawn?”

  It’s my turn to look away. I would love not to know his comings-and-goings but it’s hard to ignore. Sleep comes and goes in waves, and there’s not much to do other than stare out the window all night. At exactly eleven, Nik walks off the porch and around to the side of the boarding house every night. Minutes later one of the trucks—always the International Harvester with its tall, boxy red cab and wooden bed—rumbles to life and headlights illuminate the otherwise quiet street every. Around five in the morning, the truck sputters back down the street, and he drags himself into the boarding house looking like he’s about to collapse. I could set a watch by the routine.

  “I don’t sleep well,” I say.

  He rubs at his cheek with a crease between his brows. “Can you not mention it to anyone?”

  “I won’t.” I glance at Augustine again as she turns her head to examine a large oak. It’s getting harder to believe her about the telephone. Surely someone, somewhere, has one I could use. I only need a minute to try again. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

  “Not here.” Nik leans down to whisper in my ear. “I’ve been warned to keep my distance from you, but we can sneak away later.”

  My eyes snap to his face, my jaw dropping. Remembering his expression after Chamberlain called him to the office, I don’t need to ask who warned him. That’s when he started avoiding me and a few days later he began his late-night disappearing act.

  I nod and he releases a breath before hurrying forward to walk with the guys.

  “Right here,” Augustin
e says. The troupe slows to a stop near a rocky area with a patch of grass in the center. A few slim trees offer a small amount of shade against the noon sun. Augustine rubs her hands together. “Let’s settle in and have a good time.”

  Mitch and Eddie race toward a tree across the grassy turf. “Faster, Mitch,” Etta calls after them. Gus, Pedro, and Tommy lunge forward and the girls cheer them on too. The twins join the fun with Ben and Pearl jogging behind them. James slaps Nik’s arm and takes off. Will yells, “wait up” before bouncing over the rocks. Gayle, Etta, Jackie, and Theresa link arms and mosey away from the footpath. I watch it all through a veil, a cloudy haze separating me from them. Then I’m alone with Augustine.

  “A lovely day,” she comments. “It’s good to get away from the theater, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.” I cross my arms over the pink bow at my waist and try to calm the butterflies in my stomach. “Madam Augustine, I was wondering…” I hesitate. Asking her about the letter will sound like I don’t trust her word. I don’t, of course, but I don’t want her to know that. “It’s been a while now and the theater phone hasn’t been repaired.”

  “These newfangled things are a tricky business.”

  By now, I think it’s safe to say it’s a lost cause and a new phone might be the cheaper way to go. “My second letter should have reached Holland by now.”

  “I should think so.” She puckers her lips, watching the rest of the troupe chase each other. “Don’t worry, dear; you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. It’s good you like the stage so much.”

  I blanch at her statement. The stage is strangely addicting; I can’t deny it. The thrill of everyone watching is both terrifying and energizing. After each show, the applause sends chills down my spine but, as much as I find myself enjoying it, I want to leave it behind forever.

  Theresa pulls Jackie close and whispers in her ear. Jackie glances in our direction and nods. They walk away from the group, arm-in-arm. What nonsense is Theresa telling her this time?

  I search for Nik, wondering how long I’ll have to wait to get away, and find him trailing Pedro up the side of a boulder.

  “I’m king of the world,” Pedro shouts.

  Nik swings a leg on top of the boulder, his worn calfskin boots dangling over the side, and smiles down at me. He nods for me to join the others but I don’t know how. I’ve never been good with large groups of people.

  “Lina,” Pedro calls. “Don’t be a fuddy-duddy.”

  Nik motions me forward again, but I shake my head. Etta jogs back toward me, her mousey brown curls bobbing, and grabs my hand. “We don’t bite.”

  “Theresa’s the only one with a taste for flesh,” James adds with a wink.

  Gayle shakes her head. “One day she’s going to hear you talking about her like that and then you’ll be sorry.”

  “Ah, she’s scrappy. I can take her,” he says.

  I search for Theresa but she’s disappeared with Jackie so I let them pull me, uneasy, into the fold.

  An hour later, Jackie and Theresa are still gone and the rest of the troupe sprawls out on the rocks, gasping for breath. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so free with anyone other than Christian. My chest constricts at the thought, my smile fading. It doesn’t feel right to have fun when my mother’s worried sick and Christian has the ability to assure her I’m fine. Instead, he’s attending parties with his fiancée.

  “And then.” James snorts. “Then, thinking he’s this great cake-eater, Eddie tells the girl working the counter—”

  “Drop dead.” Eddie kicks out at him. “Right now.”

  Mitch roars with laughter, slamming a dark fist into Eddie’s arm. “Kiss off. He’s finally getting to the crunch.”

  Eddie punches him back with red cheeks. “Dry up, the lot of you.”

  Nik touches my hand, and I startle. “Come on,” he mouths.

  Climbing to my feet, I stretch the kinks from my knees and ankles. Nik leads me down the backside of the rocks, away from the men as they roar with laughter. He holds a finger up to his lips and points to Augustine. She leans against the tree with her mouth hanging open, and a snore rips through the air. I suppress a laugh.

  He smirks and loops my hand through the crook of his elbow. I lean into him, taking the comfort he offers, and we walk in silence. His skin is warm beneath my fingers, his muscles solid. I wonder if Cornelia is touching Christian like this right now.

  Nik’s hand slips over mine, and I realize I had been squeezing his forearm. “Sorry,” I mumble.

  “You okay, Canary?”

  I nod.

  “It’s okay not to be,” he says.

  “I know.” But I had to be. I had to keep a straight head on my shoulders to get back to my mother. Dwelling on it won’t help so I ask, “What did you give Pat yesterday for letting me use the phone?”

  Nik opens his mouth but shuts it without answering. His Adam’s apple bobs. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing important.”

  “How hard would it be to use it again?” If I call the police station, they’ll undoubtedly get word to my mother.

  Nik stops dead in the middle of the path. His face pales, the cords of muscle in his arms flexing.

  “If I can’t, that’s fine. I’ll find another phone.”

  He grinds his teeth. “We should go back.”

  I follow his gaze to two men walking straight for us, their heads bent in conversation. They wear worn trousers and shirts stained with soot. The closer they get, the more Nik’s muscles strain. I’m not sure who they are to Nik, but I don’t want to see him hurt, physically or mentally.

  I tug his arm but, despite his wanting to leave a moment ago, he seems frozen in place. “Nik? Come on.”

  “What do we have here?” one of the men says from a few feet away. “Nikolai, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t say a word to them,” Nik warns me.

  “Nah, that’s not it,” the second one says. “Besnik. Goes by Nik.”

  “Yeah, yeah. That’s it.”

  Nik steps closer, shielding me with the side of his body. His voice is low and gravelly when he says, “Fellas.”

  “Hear you’re plunking away at the piano these days.” The second man sneers.

  “I’m keeping myself busy.”

  “I bet you are. That fancy suit you wear on stage how you lured this fine young face to the park on her own?”

  Nik’s knuckles pop one after the other beneath his thumb.

  The first man laughs, and they step around us. “Careful this crumb doesn’t chisel you, sweetheart. He’s a real grifter.”

  When they’re far enough away, I tug on Nik’s arm again, desperate to return to the safety of the rest of the troupe. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing.” He pulls his arm away and shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’s nothing. We should…”

  He starts off in the direction we came without finishing the sentence. His back is tight, his clammy shirt clinging to the line of his spine. I sprint after him, and he shortens his stride so I can keep up. We don’t speak along the way. The few glimpses I stole of his face each revealed something different. Anger. Humiliation. Sorrow. But as we approach the rocky area where the rest of the troupe continues to lounge, it becomes a mask of indifference.

  “There you are,” Pedro yells. “Why’d you split?”

  My heart stops when a figure moves beside the tree Augustine was sleeping under. Chamberlain offers her a hand up, a fedora perched on his head. Sleep still pulls at the corners of her eyes, and they exchange hushed words. I smooth down the front of my dress, then my hair, and try to steady my breathing.

  Will comes up beside us with a hot pretzel. “There goes the rest of the afternoon.”

  “Ah, Lina,” Augustine croons. “You must’ve gone for a walk.”

  Chamberlain turns, pushing his glasses up his nose, and smiles. His eyes flick over Nik, his face falling slightly before he catches himself. “You’re flushed, Lina.”


  I pat my cheeks with the back of my fingers and I feel sick. “It must be the heat.”

  “Would you like a drink?” He produces a flask from inside his jacket and comes to stand beside me.

  “No.” I glance to my right for Nik’s reassurance but he’s halfway across the stone with Will. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “I respect your determination on the matter.” Chamberlain slips the silver bottle back into his pocket. “However, there’s something I’ll no longer accept no for.”

  I hold my breath, waiting. Dreading.

  “For now, how about a little song, hm?” Chamberlain runs a tobacco-scented finger over my lips, and I force myself not to recoil. “I missed the last show and need a little taste.”

  With endless days of rehearsals and an eighth show under my belt, I’ve finally earned a free day. And, by free day, Augustine means she’s finally forcing me to make good on the promise to see New York with Chamberlain. Her promise. Not mine.

  The two of them shot holes in each of my excuses the day in the park until Augustine gave up and agreed on my behalf. It’s important to keep the patron happy for both our benefit, she said. Maybe she’s right, maybe she’s not; I don’t have it in me to argue. I barely have enough energy to wake up in the mornings after the crushing blow Christian’s mother dealt. But I have to pull myself together because I can’t stay here. It’s time to lay the final brick in my plan. If I’m going to escape, I have to be smart about it.

  Sitting in the back of Chamberlain’s red Ford, I press myself against the door and breathe carefully through my teeth. The scent of tobacco clings to the interior, making me nauseous. His weathered hand rests too close on the black leather seat next to me, ready to pounce at the slightest opportunity. I refuse to uncross my legs in fear of accidently brushing against him. His visual scrutiny is more than enough contact, but the circulation to my calf cut off ten minutes ago.

  When his driver, a wisp of a man with a white beard, pulls along the edge of a wooded area and stops the car, I stiffen. It’s a stark contrast to the steel city on the opposite side of the street where more towering buildings stand.