Mum never got the chance to try champagne, and now here we are, sampling it for the second night in a row.Well, aren’t you putting on the top hat, poppet?I hear her say.
Mr. Stewart lifts his flute by the stem, like a rose, and I shift my glass to imitate him. “To your future.”
I take a too-large sip, and the liquid rises sharply in my nose, making my eyes tear up.
“I have to apologize for not getting back to you right away. But I had to chat with a friend here who employs some Chinese—Isidor Straus, the owner of Macy’s, the biggest department store in the United States. I guess I don’t need to tell you how hard it is to get past the Chinese Exclusion Act.” He feeds his frown some champagne. “As far as I’mconcerned, the less the government sticks their fingers into my business, the better for all of us.”
“How will you do it?” I ask. Jamie fidgets beside me, touching his left shoulder, which must be bothering him.
Mr. Stewart nods. “There are exceptions in the act, including one for teachers. Charlie has been wanting to set up a circus school for a while now.” He rubs his hands together. “Perhaps as part of your employment with the circus, you can instruct others in the acrobatic arts.”
“Will it work?” asks Jamie.
“I think so. Especially with Charlie in the ring.” He tosses up his watch and catches it. “If it weren’t for him, his six brothers would still be doing pony tricks on the farm, not running the largest entertainment company in the world. He secured the right to transport twenty-six camels, sixteen elephants, and three hundred and thirty-five horses by train, by knowing which hands to shake and which shoulders to tap. But here’s the thing, folks.”
My blood stops moving through my body.
“The teacher exception only works for males.”
“I can pass as male. You’ve seen the act.”
“Actually, what I propose is that Jamie come as the ‘teacher,’ with you as his ‘wife.’”
Jamie draws back. “But that wasn’t on the table.”
His words echo off some chasm of disbelief that has opened inside me. Jamie doesn’t want to come? I misread him. The farewell toast at last night’s dinner was for... me. The ship’sdull vibrations seem to amplify, like a hive of bees has moved into my head.
“I’m sorry, but the act works because it’s two of you. Valor and Virtue. Plus, it’s too risky for Ringling Brothers to hire a single woman.”
“Risky in what way?” Jamie asks.
Mr. Stewart grabs at his chin, pulling hard enough to sharpen the point of it. “For one, she might run off. It’s the women who tend to get in the family way.”
“I certainly don’t have plans for that.”
“No one ever does.”
Jamie stiffens. “Is that a remark on Valora’s judgment?” His eyes have grown bright, and his fingers grip the edge of the seat cushion, like talons. He rarely yells, preferring to scorn rather than scald. “She cared for our father by herself after our mum died. Buried him, too. Does that sound like a girl who would shirk her duties?”
There’s outrage in his tone, not all of it directed at Mr. Stewart. I can’t bear to look at Jamie’s face, not wanting to see injury there, hurt that will cause me to drift off the line.
Mr. Stewart’s face is a landscape of changing scenery and shifting planes—the flattening of the hill of his nose, the widening of the crag of his mouth. His gaze shifts to me and becomes thoughtful. “No, it doesn’t. Still, it’s not an easy life. Constant travel can be hard on the constitution. The women Charlie employs are as tough as alligators.”
“Valora’s tough, and she works harder than me. She can doan aerial somersault on the tightrope, forwardandbackward. She was born for the stage.”
Jamie’s words trigger a surprising flood of emotions in me, which collect in a warm pool in my stomach. I flash him a grateful smile.
“If you came with her, there would be no question. But Valora alone? No offense...”
The only sound is, strangely, Crawford, stirring the ice with the bottle. I suppose a good valet knows when to be silent and when a little noise is needed.
A shield-shaped mirror reflects my worried expression, my lips a hardening drip of sealing wax, my eyes almost squinting. Here it is, the chance to pull Jamie through the door, to get what I climbed through a cargo hatch for. Jamie doesn’t want to go, but he won’t refuse, not with my destiny on the line. I feel more than hear him draw a breath, as heavily as if it were dragging an anchor. Finally, the key has been presented to him, not the key to unlock Ba’s future as in my dreams, but mine.
But an almond twisted from the tree before it’s ready will always be bitter. That bitterness will seep into our relationship, eating away at it until we’re nothing but angry words and icy glares. Then we might lose each other for good. I could never let that happen to us. Maybe I have been acting like Ba. I thought what was best for me was best for him. I didn’t listen to what he wanted.
Life is a balancing act, and the better you get at juggling, the better you get at living.But juggling is not an act ofholding tight. It’s an act of letting go—of giving the people you love the time and space to find their own orbit. And it’s an act of catching. I’ll always be there for Jamie, just as he’ll always be there for me.
The floor shifts, and the walls creak, sounding like the screech of a stage curtain slowly pulling closed.
