Holding my hand, he calls to everyone, “Pack up. We’re moving on.”
There are nods of agreement and they all turn to their wagons and horses and start to load up what little has been unpacked. Everyone but Elke and Anouk, who are still watching me with worried expressions.
I turn to Cale. “We don’t have to leave. There’s meant to be a show tomorrow. We should—”
He takes my face between his hands. “You think we’re going to stay one second in a place where you don’t feel safe? There’s a common a few miles from here. We’ll camp there tonight, and move on to the next town in the morning.”
The ferocity in his gaze tells me he’s not going to be persuaded. He pulls me into his arms again and I melt against him, drawing all the warmth and comfort from his arms that I can. Then he leaves me with Elke and Anouk, and we get our wagon and Dandelion ready.
It’s getting dark as we trail out of the town, a somber mood hanging over the circus. We’ve never not been welcomed before, and I can’t help but feel this is all my fault. Because of me, we’re going to towns where people aren’t expecting us. Now we’re being greeted with hostility and malice. I’ve been in a happy bubble for so long I’ve forgotten that some people don’t like or trust us.
At our new campground, a deserted, treeless stretch of public land, I sit sunk in unhappiness by the fire. There’s lentil curry for dinner, but I feel sick as I watch people eat, and I go to bed instead.
The next afternoon we arrive in another town, and I’m aware of cool stares and judgmental expressions. I’m self-conscious about my frayed jeans and messy plaited hair, and the fact that we’re all sitting around a fire eating from tin plates. I’ve never felt like this before. I hate that I’m being made to feel ashamed just because we’re different.
When Elke, Anouk and I go out into the streets the next morning to sell tickets, people seem to give us more up-and-downs, and some whisper to each other and turn away. Still, we manage to sell all the tickets.
Later under the big top, we perform to a packed crowd with smiling faces and clapping hands, but I don’t feel any better somehow.
The next morning I’m poking at the fire with a stick and drinking coffee when Cale comes and sits down beside me.
“You all right there?” he asks, butting his shoulder gently against mine.
I look over to where a handful of villagers are exercising their dogs, casting occasional glances in our direction. “They’re happy to be entertained by us, but they don’t like us.”
Cale gives my arm a sympathetic squeeze. “It’s not that they don’t like us. They don’t know us, and everyone’s afraid of the unknown. Next year they’ll be a little friendlier. The year after that they’ll welcome us.”
I suppose Cale’s speaking from experience, but I don’t want to have to earn what’s given freely to other people. It’s not fair.
As I watch Cale walk away, I wonder where I got such expensive tastes for love and acceptance. Have I’ve forgotten what it’s like to disliked, even hated? I became accustomed to the friendliness of the villages who know the circus, and I forgot they were the exception, not the rule.
I heave a sigh and get to my feet, wishing I could throw off this melancholy. I want to find my way back to that place where everything was lightness and happiness. I feel like I’ve lost my innocence all over again.
Cale is incredibly sweet and patient with me over the following days and weeks, and never lets me go anywhere alone. He even finds excuses to exercise Jareth alongside Dandelion, saying the enormous, muscular Friesian is growing fat and spoiled.
“No, he’s not,” I protest on Jareth’s behalf. “Jareth is in perfect health.”
But I let Cale ride with me because I need his presence. Every now and then I catch the scent of stale whisky, and my dreams are haunted by the sound of plates smashing and deep voice yelling. A huge, hulking figure coming for me.
I forget what it must look like to the others when they catch Cale and I holding hands or with his arms around me. Elke and Anouk have been sticking close to me as well, ever since the incident with the man who grabbed me, and I can feel them growing suspicious. I think for a while I’ve managed to throw them off the scent by being extra discreet around Cale.
Then they corner me one evening in our wagon.
Elke stands in front of me with her hands on her hips, looking ferocious. “What’s going on with you and Cale?”
“What? Nothing.”
“Don’t pretend. We’ve been waiting for you to come clean with us for weeks, but you haven’t.” Elke looks hurt suddenly. “Why haven’t you?”
I shrug, playing with the tassel on a cushion, and mumble, “Me and Cale? Maybe something’s going on.”
Anouk sits down on the bed opposite me. “Maybe? Don’t you know?”
I know that his kisses make my body feel like fire and he whispers the sweetest things in my ear. I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know what having a boyfriend means, if that’s even what Cale is. He’s a grown man, he’s grieving, and as he pointed out, he’s kind of my boss. It’s complicated.
When I don’t answer, Elke says, “I was watching your act tonight. Really watching it. When Cale came forward to pull the knives from the board, it was….” She struggles to put a name to what she saw.
I know. It was an unguarded moment between us, the way we look at each other when we’re alone, except there were hundreds of people watching. Maybe strangers imagined it was part of our act, but Elke saw it for what it was. I need Cale. I want him to see how much I need him, especially in those intense moments. I feel like I’m floating on air when I see that same need in his expression.
“I’ve never seen Cale look like that at anyone before.”
I play extra hard with the tassel, feeling fluttery. No one but me. That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
Anouk prods my toe with her foot. “So it’s true? You and Cale?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess I was scared. Do you know how much nagging and cajoling I had to do to get him to agree to our act? Well, it was ten times worse to get him to kiss me. First, I had to convince him to throw the sixth knife.”
They both frown.
“The sixth knife?” Elke asks.
“For ages he would only throw five knives. He said the last one was to kill himself with if he ever hurt me.”
Anouk puts a hand over her heart. “That’s so romantic.”
Elke rolls her eyes. “I think you mean melodramatic.”
Despite everything, I find myself smiling. “That was my reaction. Both my reactions. Stop being melodramatic, Cale, but oh how romantic. Now he always throws the sixth knife.” My mind drifts back to that beautiful night. The precious memory of being in Cale’s arms. Of being alone in bed with him, with nothing between us anymore. The tender memory makes my heart ache.
“I’m afraid it might all collapse if we tell everyone how we feel about each other. I had to work so hard to make him notice me.”
Elke makes a derisive noise. “Please. I watched him the morning after you came to the circus, and he brought Dandelion to you. He was glowing. That man was smitten the moment he saw you.”