He returns to his act while my hands clench against my knees, and I consider reaching for my inhaler to stave off the shock of it.
Venus leans into my shoulder.“It’s amazing, the discipline and control it requires.First, the swallower must learn to control his gag reflex, which is as much mental as it is physical.Then, he tilts his head to straighten the esophagus.A safe insertion is achieved through relaxation and focus and by allowing gravity to guide the blade into the esophageal tube—a very flexible structure that enables the blade to pass near the heart and lungs without notice.One wrong move and…”
“Getting tongue-tied has a new meaning?”I finish, leaning closer.
A rare grin appears on her face.“He’ll be at a loss for words, that’s certain.”
“His real act will cut both ways,” I quip, smirking.
She chuckles.“Like a hot knife through butter…but the butter is his aorta.”
“I don’t think he’s the sharpest tool in the drawer,” I answer, only barely containing my laughter.
“Oh, that cliché cuts like a knife,” she says, and we both lean into each other, snickering, like kids again.
Mr.Massie clears his throat.“Pardon me, but are you two paying attention?”
“Our apologies,” Venus says.“We don’t want to cross swords with you.”
Dot cackles.He rolls his eyes, looking bothered that the gorgeous woman beside me has stolen his big performance.She sits more upright, restoring the gap between us, and I dislike the separation.
On the third and longest sword, he bends over and lets Dot gently push the blade down his throat.I’m amazed and appalled.
But Venus pops from her seat with applause when Mr.Massie bows.Dot joins in, and he blushes at the attention.
“I witnessed a performance in India,” Venus tells me, sitting back down.“The art originated there.It takes years to perfect it, if one ever can, and only a few dozen people in the world can do it.It’s not a carnival trick, Henry.It’s an art.”
“Do you think I should hire him?”I ask, arms still folded.
“I think… you have a sword swallower living here.What could be weirder or truer than that?”
She leaves me, disappearing into the short hallway and heading outside for whatever brought her downstairs in the first place.Mr.Massie sanitizes his blades, carefully returning them to his velvet-lined case.Dot plops into the seat beside me.
“Took my sage advice, I see,” she says, her dark brow cocked high on her forehead.
“She’s here to install the garden.That’s all.”
“That’s not all.You just had the cutestI-want-to-suck-your-facemoment with her,” she says.
Venus strolls back into the museum, carrying a garden trowel.Her fanny pack bounces against her hips as she rushes by us for the stairs.I lean my elbows against my knees, trying not to watch her but failing.
Dot pats my back.“If I may offer one more piece of advice…”
“As if I can stop you.”
“You’ll want to hear this, Henry.It’s not from me, but from a romance expert—my buddy, Jack Graham.”
“The bestselling romance author?Fine.What would he say?”
“When it comes to love, always chase.”
I consider her words—his words—and shake my head.“When I chase, she runs.”
CHAPTER25
Venus
The garden installationtakes longer than expected, and not just because of the pleasant diversion of a sword swallowing performance.Layering the peat moss, sand, perlite, pumice, lava rock, orchid bark, shredded bark, tree fern fiber, and rock wool between two large raised beds took time, as did filling the bogs with water from the rain barrel.I’d forgotten the work involved.The humidity is sweltering, and the sun bears down on me.But all that’s left is the planting.
