Summer Magic (15 page)

At last she spied him striding in her direction.
 
His eyes were downcast.
 
He appeared lost in thought.

"Michael!" she called to him and waved.
 
"Over here!"

"I'm coming," he said, lifting his gaze.
 
"Sorry I'm late.
 
I got a little waylaid after the show talking with my sisters and--"

"Michael," Lisa interrupted him.
 
"I think Diamond has a sinus infection.
 
She's hanging her head and running a fever."

He ran a hand through his hair, sighed heavily, and hitched his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans.
 
"Maybe I've been working her a little too hard.
 
Have you mentioned it to Doc?" he asked.

"Not yet.
 
I'm going to in just a few minutes."

"Lisa--" His eyes bored into hers, his expression wary.
 
Something told her he was no longer thinking about the show horses.

Her stomach dropped.
 
"What is it, Michael?"

"We need to go somewhere to talk.
 
Someplace where we can be alone."

"Michael, if you're upset about what I did tonight to Claudette, I promiseI can explai--"
 
She stopped abruptly. Dare she change her mind and tell him?
 
Would he believe his sister could've been so contemptible?

"No, it's not that, Lisa.
 
Right now, I've got other things to worry about."

 
She caught her breath.
 
"What's wrong?"
 
She hadn't seen such a troubled look on his face since the night Mr. Figaro had told them about his brother's passing.

"I...I'll explain in a minute.
 
Let's head over to my trailer.
 
Now."

She hesitated.

"But Diamond.
 
Dr. Woodstock--"

"You can catch up with Doc later."
 
His gut twisted so bad he felt like doubling over.
 
If he didn't talk with Lisa now, he might lose his nerve.
 
She'd never understand.
 
Never in a million years.
 
But then in all fairness, how could he expect her to?

"All right, Michael.
 
Let's go."
 
She felt her mouth grow dry and her muscles tense.

They started off, an arm's length between them.
 
Two dare-devil motorcyclists wearing shiny metallic riding suits passed by.
 
Lisa noticed one of them make eye contact, sending her a suggestive smile, but her awareness of him was fleeting and inconsequential.
 
The unspoken tension between Michael and herself was becoming more charged with each passing moment.

At last they arrived at the trailer.
 
He held the door open, waiting for her to enter first.
 
Then he stepped in and flicked on a small table lamp.
 
A dim glow illuminated the compact interior.

"Sit down," he said, gesturing to the daybed against the opposite wall.

She did, glancing about.
 
As before, the same thought struck her.
 
Michael could benefit from a woman's decorative touch.

Though clean and tidy, his living quarters were Spartan, lacking the special details that characterized Estelle's. Apparently unfazed when Lisa had offered suggestions, he'd jokingly referred to it as his bachelor's retreat.

But tonight, she could tell, he was in no mood for jokes.

As he eased down on a folding chair directly across from her, worry lines creased his forehead.
 
Hunching forward, he stared down at the floor, and clasped his hands tightly together.

"So what is it?" Lisa asked, scarcely taking a breath. She prayed that nothing had changed between them.
 
But the edge in his voice only underscored her misgivings.

He looked up and met her gaze.
 
"Tonight after the show, Uncle Rudy, my sisters, and I had a long talk.
 
That's why I was late."

"A talk about what?"

"About where the troupe is headed.
 
About our future with Jessell and Stern."
 
He flicked his gaze away from her, then pulled it back, hesitating.
 
"Actually, we first started talking about it back at the street dance in Galveston. When you asked me about it later that night on the beach, I didn't want to tell you because everything was so uncertain. But now that's changed.
 
We know for sure what we must do."

"So..." she prompted.

"So we're adding a new member to the troupe.
 
Rita."

Her heart lurched.
 
"Rita?"

"Uh-huh.
 
It's time we expand our act...and...in order to do that, we need a fourth flyer."

"Why?" she gasped.
 
"Why would you need Rita?"
 
Her thoughts skittered back to that day on the horse-drawn tram when Claudette had foreshadowed this.
 
Was Michael planning to leave again?

He faltered, his eyes dark with...with what?
 
Pain? Regret?
 
Deceit
?

"We just do," he answered.
 
She could see his Adam's apple moving.
 
"We need Rita."

"But...but, whose idea was it anyway?" Lisa asked.
 
"Who decided you needed a fourth flyer?"

"Claudette did.
 
I did.
 
All of us, I guess."

"I see," she said, pressing her hands against her temples.
 
Her head pounded.
 
No, if Michael was leaving, he would surely tell her so.
 
The reason for the new flyer was his obvious interest in Rita.
 
Lisa had seen it coming.
 
And without a doubt, Claudette was responsible for this cozy arrangement.
 
But what had happened to Michael's resolve?
 
In the beginning, at least, he'd been savvy to Claudette's intentions.
 
He'd said that Claudette was determined he marry another aerialist.
 
Couldn't he figure out what was happening now?

"But there's one major problem," he continued.
 
"Though Rita's pretty good at flying, she's been away from it for a while.
 
She's going to need tons of practice to catch onto our routines."

"Then why didn't you pick someone else?" Lisa asked, pointing out the obvious.

"There is no one else.
 
At least no one else we could get on short notice.
 
Rita is the logical choice."
 
He rose, exhaled slowly, and turned away.
 
Silently he stared out the small window next to the trailer door, propping his hands on his hips.
 
The only sound was a ticking clock coming from somewhere in the back.

At last he turned around and sat next to her on the daybed, only inches away.
 
He pinned her with his gaze.
 
"In the beginning--when you first came to Jessell and Stern--I told you we wouldn't be seeing much of each other."

"And you were right," she agreed.
 
"You and I both put in long, exhausting days."

"Yes, we do--though somehow we've managed to eke out an hour or two together at the end of each day."
 
A wry smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he added, "I guess that's only been possible because we've combined business with pleasure."

"But at least we managed," she said in a small voice. Was Michael suggesting that their time together had meant to him more business than pleasure?
 
Had he only been using her to help him with the horses?

He reached for her hand, clasping it tightly.
 
"Yes, we did manage," Michael agreed.
 
"But I'm afraid, now...I'm afraid things will have to be different for a while."

"You don't want me to help you with the horses any longer?" she asked.
 
"Or come here anymore after the work's done?"
 
Was he giving her the brush-off?
 
Did he plan to spend all his free time with Rita?

He met her gaze, but for a long moment, refrained from answering.
 
The lamplight illuminated his profile, the tight and uncustomary downturn of his mouth.
 
His nearness was bittersweet.

"No," he said at last.
 
"It's not that I don't want your help.
 
In fact, it's just the opposite.
 
You and Hoshi and the other stable boys may have to get along without me for a while.
 
Now that we're breaking Rita in, I'll have to spend more time than ever practicing--especially each night after the last show."

"But what about your promise to your father, Michael? He's put his trust in you to look after the show horses, especially Ebony."

Michael's face darkened.
 
"I haven't forgotten about that.
 
But Pop will understand when he comes back and learns the circumstances.
 
He'll have to."

Visions of Charles swam up in her mind.
 
Hadn't it been the same with Charles and Ramona?
 
Hadn't he insisted their last-minute meetings were only for professional reasons? Lisa blinked twice, forcing the memory to the farthest corner of her mind.
 
Don't let it happen again.
 
Michael's ruse is no different than Charles's.
 
Take back your heart--before it's too late.

"Lisa?"
 
Michael's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"You understand, don't you?"
 
He stroked back her hair and rested his hand on her neck.

His touch threatened to disarm her.
 
She yearned to wrap her arms around him, beg him to change his mind about Rita, but knew she could not.
   

"Certainly," she lied, avoiding his eyes.
 
After all Michael had no claims on her, she reminded herself.
 
He'd never even said he loved her.
 
Unmistakably, his caresses, his kisses had amounted to nothing more than overactive male hormones.

"Good."
 
His thumb moved gently back and forth against her jaw.
 
Instinctively she pulled away.
 
"And one more thing.
 
Don't say anything about this to the others yet, will you?"

"The other circus people?"

"Yes.
 
Mom, too.
 
Especially Mom."

"Why?
 
They'll see the four of you practicing.
 
It'll be obvious."

 
"Maybe.
 
Maybe not.
 
Everyone's usually too busy to pay that much attention."

"But what's the big secret, Michael?"

"I can't say.
 
Not yet anyway.
 
I've made a promise to Claudette.
 
I gave my word to keep quiet."

"Can't you get out of it?
 
The way you got out of your promise to her that day you met me at the airport?"

"I'm afraid not."
 
He set his jaw.
 
His face remained unreadable.
 
"This promise is different."

*****

Jessel and Stern continued to press on.
 
To Lisa's relief, Diamond's sinus infection had been easily cured. After a big dose of antibiotics and a little extra tender, loving care, the liberty horse was soon back in center ring. Once again, Michael was right.
 
Their time together was becoming increasingly rare.
 
What was more, she sensed his growing preoccupation with whatever was bothering him.
 
The few moments they did have together, he seemed troubled. Distracted.
 
Even Estelle was ill-at-ease lately.