Summer Magic (4 page)

Give Lisa a proper welcome?
 
God only knew from the very first moment he saw her again, he'd wanted to crush her mouth with his, press her close to him, feel her sweet softness against him.
 
But he couldn't keep kidding himself, he was playing with fire.
 
Though Lisa claimed she understood what Doc Woodstock expected of her, there would be other problems too.
 
The trainers would also regard her with a jaundiced eye.
 
Unlike Pop, who seemed to have taken to Lisa, they'd call her "the first of May," inexperienced and naive.
 
She'd crack under the pressure, then most likely up and leave--and he couldn't follow her.
 
No, he'd already decided.
 
He'd never leave the circus again.

"Doc Woodstock had to drive into the next town to pick up some supplies for the leopards," Ed Figaro said.
 
"I expect him back any minute now, though I'm afraid he won't have much time to visit."
 
He gave the hose a quick snap.

"That's all right," Lisa said perhaps a little too quickly.
 
Meeting the veterinarian first thing tomorrow would be soon enough.

On the way to Michael's dressing room, they slipped inside the back entrance to the coliseum.
 
Several men were hard at work.
 
Some were checking equipment on the ground while the others were climbing to the top of the rope ladders.
 
The two closest to the door were speaking to each other in a foreign language.
 
German, Lisa quickly surmised.

"Who are they?" she asked Michael.

"They're called riggers.
 
Some of the most important guys in the circus.
 
They check and recheck the high wires and trapeze to make sure everything's safe."

"Hey, Michael!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Lisa caught sight of a strikingly tall woman striding purposefully toward them. With her honey-blond hair drawn back in a long French braid and her sleek black leotard and tights, the woman was the epitome of elegance.

"Claudette?" she asked Michael under her breath.

"Yep.
 
I'll introduce you in just a sec."

"What are you doing, still dressed in your street clothes?" Claudette called to her brother.

"Hold on, Claudette.
 
There's still over an hour."

She looked steadily at Michael, never once glancing in Lisa's direction.
 
"So I see the little veterinarian girl has finally arrived," she said.

"Yes, she has."
 
Michael's voice was strained, but controlled.
 
"Sis, meet Lisa Prentice."

Claudette folded her arms across her chest, forcing herself to meet Lisa's gaze.
 
"Hello."

"Hello, Claudette."
 
Lisa extended her hand, but Claudette didn't take it.

"Lisa's got a slight problem," Michael went on, ignoring what had just happened.
 
"I think maybe you can help her out."

"Oh?"

Michael went on to explain about Lisa's lost luggage. "Maybe you have a few things on hand you wouldn't mind lending Lisa," he said.

"And exactly what is it she needs?"

He was beginning to look a little exasperated.
 
"Ah come on, Claudette.
 
How should I know what you women need to get through a normal day?
 
Jeans, a blouse or two, maybe--"

"Okay, okay.
 
I get it."
 
Claudette cut him off with a wave of her hand.
 
"I'll see what I can do...though she might have to hem up a few things."
 
She shifted her gaze to Lisa and added, "Of course, we can't let Lisa get off to a bad start, now can we?"

“Thank you, Claudette," Lisa said tightly.
 
"But I already told Michael that I'll be fine.
 
I plan to find the nearest shopping mall as soon as there's time."

"Suit yourself."
 
Claudette shot Lisa a condescending look, then tugged at Michael's shirt sleeve.
 
"Let's go, Michael.
 
Time to tear yourself away.
 
Need I remind you, there are more important things to do?"

Michael turned to Lisa and caught her hand.
 
"You gonna stick around and watch the show?"

Beneath Claudette's steady gaze, she looked him straight in the eye and managed a smile.
 
"Of course, Michael.
 
I wouldn't miss it for the world."

*****

Inside the coliseum, Lisa found an unreserved seat and sat down.
 
The band was playing a lively tune.
 
Vendors selling popcorn and cotton candy worked the side aisles.

As the lights dimmed and the music swelled, a rainbow of colors filled the arena.
 
Lisa's meeting with Claudette soon forgotten, new anticipation flowed through her.
 
It was time for the Spectacle to begin.

With rapt attentiveness, she clasped her hands together. Animals in bright head dresses and performers wearing sequin-spangled costumes paraded by.
 
Then came the first act, which soon gave way to the next.
 
Lisa laughed with the crowds at the chimps bouncing on pogo sticks, clapped for the tiger jumping through a ring of fire, and gazed in awe at the red-sequined showgirls performing an aerial ballet.

Next the Flying Figaros emerged.
 
Dressed in glittering silver capes, holding hands and smiling their most dazzling smiles, they sprinted into the center ring.
 
In seconds the troupe was ascending the high rope ladder, Estelle sitting on Michael's shoulders.
 
While Claudette began to swing from a trapeze, Michael and Rudolph, perched on high rungs, balanced poles from their foreheads.

In an instant, the blue spotlight shifted back to the two young women.
 
Lisa watched first one, then the other spin through the air, skillfully performing their famous double somersaults.
 
The most difficult trick--Michael's triple--was only seconds away.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages,”
 
the ringmaster boomed, "world-renowned Michael Figaro will perform one of the most daring acts in circus history!
 
The triple somersault!"

A hush blanketed the coliseum.
 
The drums rolled.
 
From somewhere overhead, the spotlights dimmed, casting a dramatic hue over the performers.
 
Lisa's heart pounded.
 
Every nerve in her body stood on end.
 
Oh, Michael.
 
Please be careful,
she silently pleaded.

Michael dusted his hands with resin.
 
Then he began to swing.
 
The intensity was etched clearly on his face.
 
His taut muscles revealed the strength in his torso and upper arms.
 
Last year when she'd witnessed Michael's performance, she'd secretly vowed he was the most gorgeous man alive. Tonight was no exception.

Higher and higher he arched.
 
With a quick thrust, he tucked himself into a ball and whirled through the air.

The drums stopped rolling.
 
Lisa felt her hands grow clammy as she braced herself on the edge of her seat. Suddenly Michael's body straightened and his hands connected with the catcher's.
 
The applause exploded.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the ringmaster hollered, "you have just witnessed the most important feat on the face of the earth!"

While the crowds went wild, Lisa went limp with relief.

her heart cried out.
 
His performance was commanding.
 
Michael Figaro was destined for stardom.
 
How easy it would be to fall in love with him--only to end up heart-broken once again.
 
There must be at least a hundred women, watching him this very moment, who would give their souls just to touch his hand.
 
She could no more hold onto Michael than she had Charles.

One by one, the flyers dropped into the safety net, then onto the floor.
 
The crowd rose from their seats and cheered louder as the troupe took sweeping bows, then disappeared behind a royal blue curtain.

Suddenly the beating of hooves sounded.
 
The air stirred as three gorgeous black horses without riders or reins streaked past.
 
The ring seemed charged with their electrifying energy.

Lisa blinked twice.
 
Ebony!
 
The leading horse
had
to be Ebony!
 
In the center of the ring stood Mr. Figaro dressed in white and grasping a long whip.

The blue spot lights shifted to red.
 
While the other horses took their places opposite each other near the edge of the ring, Ebony cantered gracefully to the center.
 
She reared up.
 
Like a magnificent mystical creature, she pawed the air.
 
The other show horses immediately followed Ebony's cue.

Step-by-step she led them through one trick after another.
 
Then the lights dimmed as the horses made their exit.

After the show had ended, Lisa hurried down the broad hallway that led to the performers' dressing rooms.
 
She found Michael outside, laughing and talking with one of the showgirls who'd performed in the aerial ballet.
 
Inclining his head to one side, he grinned charmingly again at something she had just said, then said something back to her that launched her into peals of laughter.

Meanwhile, a huddle of young women dressed in tight miniskirts had congregated patiently nearby.
 
They were whispering to each other behind cupped hands and casting surreptitious glances in Michael's direction.

Groupies, Lisa thought.
 
She darted another glance at the showgirl.
 
Obviously there were plenty of young women
inside
the circus who found Michael attractive.

Suddenly he turned in her direction and their eyes locked.
 
"You were wonderful!" she exclaimed.
 
"The best!"

"Thanks!"
 
He moved quickly towards her and grinned openly.

Lisa flushed with pleasure.
 
Yet all-the-while she couldn't blot out the disturbing realization that the showgirl was still close by, never taking her eyes off Michael.
 
Exactly who was she?

"Give me a few minutes to hit the showers and change," Michael said.
 
"We'll go see Ebony, just like I--"

Footsteps thudded from behind, slicing through his next words.
 
Lisa turned around to see Mr. Figaro.
 
His face was drawn, his breathing rapid.

"Son, I need to talk to you."

"What is it, Pop?"

Michael's father drew in a ragged breath.
 
"It's about your Uncle Peter in Australia.
 
I'm afraid, son, there's bad news."

*****

Edward Figaro opened the dressing-room door and motioned them inside.
 
"Please.
 
Make yourselves comfortable.
 
Mother and Estelle will be along shortly."

"What is it, Pop?"
 
Michael's voice was filled with alarm.
 
"What happened?"

"I doubt you remember my brother Peter," Ed continued, looking at Michael.
 
"He was considered the black sheep of the family and visited only once a long time ago. Well...the bad news is he passed away quite unexpectedly last night."

"Gosh, Pop," Michael stammered.
 
"That's...that's too bad."

The older man's eyes misted over.
 
"Yes.
 
It's especially too bad that you kids never got to know Peter. Now all three of you are grown, without any recollection of him.
 
Anyway, the funeral's on Friday.
 
I'm flying to his home town in Australia first thing in the morning."
 
He lowered his gaze.
 
"Of course, since he never married and had a family, I suspect there won't be too many folks there."