I stomped off, ran back to the hostel as fast as my red slippers could carry me. Rain splats hit my white satin cape, but I didn’t notice. Yes, I acted like a spoiled brat, but that woman calling herself my mother ruined everything. Ricco would never date me now. Not with her stalking me and creating havoc, telling everyone she was my mom. Just when I meet a man who likes me for me, who understands my passion for the silks, she messes it up. Even if he was the teensiest bit interested in me, he wasn’t now. He was a royal. He lived in a castle. He was on first name basis with the future king and queen of Monterra. He sure as heck didn’t need me.
Why did she have to show up now? Why?
Emma didn’t help matters much. She decides now to start speaking? Was she in cahoots with my mother the whole time?
I threw everything on the bed, my costumes, my clothes, shoes, and then grabbed my old suitcase and yanked it open. I was so outta here. My thoughts scrambling, my hands moving so quickly to get out of my cut-offs, I tore off a row of sequins. I didn’t care. I threw on my old pink chenille robe. Its comforting touch against my skin made me feel like I was home. Back in Philly. Not in the middle of this nightmare.
I packed everything I could find into my case and then tossed it on the floor. As soon as Emma showed up, I’d ask Signor Freddie to book us on the next train out of here.
I sat down on the bed, my head in my hands, and let the tears fall. I knew it would never work with Ricco, that I was fooling myself with this fairy tale business. I just never figured my mother would be the one to ruin it for me.
Yes, I was angry with her, but I was hurt more than anything. Somehow she found out I was here in Monterra and she made it her business to butt in. I wouldn’t be surprised if she followed Ricco and me around, spying on us. Did she see him kissing me?
I could live with that even if it embarrassed me, but why didn’t she write to me all these years? What did she want from me?
I didn’t want to know.
A loud knock on the door made my heartbeat skip madly.
“Go away!” I yelled.
“It’s me, Ricco, let me in.”
Ricco? No, I couldn’t see him. Not like this. My makeup streaked, my old pink chenille bathrobe wrapped around me. I looked simply awful.
“Go away,” I said.
“I’m not leaving until you listen to reason.”
“I don’t care what you say. I won’t talk to that woman, not after what she did to me.”
“I don’t know what happened between you two years ago, bella, but Emma says your mother is very sorry for the pain she caused you. She never meant to hurt you. She was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? From what?”
Silence. He didn’t answer me. He couldn’t. My mother had given him a made-up story about protecting me and he didn’t push her further.
“Please, Afton,” he said in a gentle voice, “come downstairs and speak with her.”
“No . . . I can’t. It’s way too much to ask. I’ve spent the past twelve years trying to forget that she didn’t want me. Or my sister. I’m done. Please. Go away.”
A long moment passed, then: “I’m coming in, cara mia.”
“I won’t open the door.”
“I’m warning you . . . I’m coming in.”
“You wouldn’t dare break down the door!”
“I don’t have to,” he said. I looked down and saw the old fashioned door lever moving back and forth, then a loud click, and the door opened. Ricco stood there with the biggest grin on his face. “I’m a magician, remember?”
“It won’t do any good. I can never forgive her.”
“I wish I could promise you that the pain will go away, but I can’t.” He held me and I didn’t resist. “But I honestly believe your mother is sorry and wants nothing more than to tell you her side of the story.”
“Why should I listen to her? She didn’t send me one postcard. Email. Nothing.” I pulled away from him. I had to think. Think. “And now she wants back into my life? Why?”
“I don’t know, bella, but I don’t believe you’re as hard as you pretend to be,” Ricco said, not giving up. “I see how you are with your sister, the other performers . . . and the children. I know you have it in your heart to listen to what Signora Pova has to say.”
“Why should I?”
“There is one kind of magic no illusionist can pull off. The magic of the heart. It breaks, but through love and forgiveness, it can heal and be stronger than ever.” Before I could throw back an answer to that, he fixed his eyes on mine. “Forgive your mother. It’s the only way you can let go of the past.”
I lost it then. I started sobbing, not caring if I looked like a rag doll gone through the rinse cycle, my eyes ringed with black, my frumpy, old robe coming apart at the seams. I just wanted to feel his arms around me. I needed him. Needed him badly.
“Hold onto me, Ricco, please.” A fool’s lament, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. He swept me up in his arms, but he didn’t kiss me. I was almost glad he didn’t. If he had, I’d never let him go. “I’m scared, Ricco,” I admitted finally. “Really scared. For years, I’ve prayed and prayed my mother would come back to us, but now that she’s here, I don’t know what to say to her. I’m afraid if I let her back into my heart, she’ll break it all over again.”
“Sometimes we have to take a chance in life to get what we want.”
“Ricco, I—”
He placed a finger over my lips. “I’m willing to take a chance on you. Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you if you need me.”
“I want to believe you, but deep down in my heart, I know the fairy tale is over. I was kidding myself, sprinkling pixie dust on my nose and pretending I could fly. Be part of your world. I can’t. Oh, up on the silks, I’m a princess. But down here, I’m just a girl from Philly and you’re a royal. It will never work between us.”
“I know it wouldn’t be easy for you. The pomp, the rituals. The scrutiny that follows you everywhere you go. But I believe that you, above all the women I’ve met, have the inner strength and grace to embrace my world.” His velvet voice held a note of sadness as he let me go. “However, I see your mind is made up. And I must respect that.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Ciao, bella. I will never forget you.”
Then with a grand bow, the master magician left.
I was alone.
Oh. God, what had I done? I sat on the bed for the longest time, feeling so low I couldn’t even cry anymore. I thought about everything Ricco said, about not letting my fears override what my heart wanted. He was right. I needed to listen to what my mother had to say to find peace within myself or I’d never be free.
I’d been running away from facing the truth for so long, I conjured up the worst possible thoughts about why she left. I had no idea what was true and what wasn’t. It was then I knew what I had to do. I could make this right before I left Monterra.
I grabbed my greasy cold cream and wiped the makeup off face and black gunk under my eyes. The truth of Ricco’s words had hit me with such force, I barely noticed the bitter, oxidized taste from the cream when I bit down on my lower lip.
If only I wash away the past as easily.
I had to try.
Then, with a glimmer of hope burning in me, I went downstairs. I opened the double doors leading to the drawing room and stared.
God help me.
My mother, Corrina Pova, sat in a tall wingback chair, her back stiff, her chin up, but she looked like anything but a circus queen. No big, floppy hat. No sunglasses. Her high cheekbones and big, green eyes were all that was left of her beauty. She appeared smaller than I remembered her, her hair was pulled back, dark streaks mixed with dirty blond. Her right hand lay at an awkward position in her lap, her dainty feet encased in rubber boots, not the pretty slippers I always remembered her wearing when I was a little girl.
No wonder I didn’t recognize her.
I walked into the room in my old pink chenille robe and sat down. Emma gave me a hot cup of tea and smiled. Funny, she didn’t speak. Words weren’t needed.
Cupping the warm mug in my hands, I sipped my tea and made myself comfortable. I was about to hear the most fantastic story of my life with a twist I never saw coming.
* * * * *
“When I was fifteen, I ran away from home and joined the circus,” Corrina began. I still couldn’t think of the strange woman as Mama. The frazzled hair, the dirty rain boots didn’t belong to the woman who scolded me when I dumped her tiara into the flower bed. But her story chilled me, her husky voice recounting how she bolted from an abusive father and never looked back.
“I dreamed of being a circus queen. To fly through the air on the trapeze. I worked hard, suffering falls and breaks, but I kept going.” She paused, wet her dry lips. “The circus is about survival. The audience never knew about the sacrifice, the long hours of rehearsal, the drive for perfection that makes the artists risk their lives twice a day to make them smile.”
Corrina slipped her left hand into her pocket fraying at the seams. She kept her other hand close to her body, but she never moved her fingers. I had the feeling she’d tells us about it when she was ready.
Her eyes were puffy, her shoulders hunched. I wanted to die seeing her like this. Her face held no expression as if she wore a mask, but her voice was cultured and tinged with a slight accent. I realized now she’d been living in Monterra. Why?
I cringed, wishing I could let go of my anger. This was my mother. A woman drawn to a life on the road because of her frightening childhood. I understood her better, but I wasn’t ready to forgive her. Not yet.
“I walked the ring in the tent tonight before I came here,” my mother said, “kicking up the sawdust and drawing its woodsy smell deep into my lungs. I can’t tell you how much I miss the circus. It was home to me. Here I belonged. Hot popcorn dripping with butter. Tigers growling. The clowns cutting up. Acrobats and jugglers, wire walkers.”
She heaved out a deep sigh. “And Tony. He was the star of the show.”
“I thought you were the star,” I said, surprised.
“No one could compare to Tony when he was up there on the trapeze. Soaring high, doing the double somersault, then he started doing triples. Everything he did was magic. The magic of the circus is in you, he always said when my stomach got tangled up in butterflies before doing my swing-overs, trying to play to the audience sitting up in the back bleachers, learning to find my rhythm.
“It was magic.
“At every matinee. Every evening performance. The laughter and thrills. We lived and breathed circus. Till one night when my world came crashing down when Tony missed the triple and fell. Fifty feet. No net. I died inside. I didn’t know what to do, where to go. Then I discovered I was carrying his child.”
Her words exploded into my head. My senses went into overdrive, my heart racing. I shot a glance at her and I understood. I leaned in closer, relenting a little. I could see the intensity to speak about that night fueled by her memory lit up her eyes. Sweat beaded on her forehead. I swear the room got hotter, as if her pain sucked out all the air. And for the first time, I could see into her soul.
A fiery need to keep her baby burned in her. Always had.
Her baby. Me.
I choked up. I couldn’t imagine the horror of having to give up your child. Suddenly, I understood so many things. Why she encouraged me to take ballet, tumbling, and trapeze lessons. She knew flying was in my blood.
She looked at me with such love in her eyes, I felt guilty for every miserable thing I said to her, for pushing her away.
“You were born six months later, Afton, on a circus train. The boss had let me stay on with the show, doing odd jobs, until I had my baby. I wanted to keep you, but he said I couldn’t be on the bill if I did and I must give you up. I couldn’t. Your big, beautiful eyes haunted me, your tiny hands gripping my thumbs. I knew then you were going to be a flyer. Like me. Like your father.”
I sat still, unable to speak.
“When Luke, a tent-man I barely knew, offered to marry me and take care of you while I was on the road, I said yes. I didn’t know until years later he was secretly in love with me. That was when Emma was born. But he knew I’d never forgotten Tony and he took to the bottle. I realized then I had to be the breadwinner for my family. So I left you and Emma with Luke.”
“Why didn’t you write to us?” I said. “Tell us where you were.”
“I did write to you over the years, but from what Emma tells me, my letters and the money I sent never reached you.”
“Dad . . .” I muttered. “He spent it on alcohol.”
“I knew about his drinking, but I never blamed him. He did the best he could, but I had to stay out on the road to keep you girls together.”
I nodded. More than once, the social worker came around to check after my mother left us. Somehow, Dad always pulled himself together and stayed sober long enough so they wouldn’t take us away.
“As the seasons came and went,” my mother said, “I saw signs of my body giving in to the years of strenuous stunts. The lines around my mouth deepened from worry. How could I not worry? I’d spent my life learning how not to let the circus swallow me up. When the jobs in the States dried up, I came over here and found work in small circuses playing on the European circuit.
“Then one night we were late getting into a small town near the Danube, The crew set up the tents and the rigging in a hurry. The temperature was freezing, but that didn’t stop the people from coming. They filled the bleachers and we gave them the best show they ever saw,” my mother said with pride. “But I wasn’t as young as I used to be. My hands shook. Badly. My wrist was bruised and aching, the pain making me clench my teeth so hard my jaw hurt. An aerialist was nothing without a strong grip. How could I keep my hands steady to get through my act?
“Then I thought of my girls. You and Emma. I couldn’t let you down. I never wanted to see you two struggle like I did. Slowly, I took one hand off the wiry rope and grabbed the ring, ready to do my swing-overs. The chill was unbearable. For several long seconds, I didn’t think I could do my act. My body felt paralyzed. But I wouldn’t let the audience down. Never. I did my routine and the crowd loved it.
“I stood tall that night, so proud, but I knew my time was coming to an end. Soon I wouldn’t be able to climb up high into the big top. Be sure I had the split second timing that made me spin round and round, as if I could fly. I promised myself I was going to retire from performing, work as a coach. Then I could come home, be with my family. But no sooner did I make that promise and begin my descent down the rope when the unthinkable happened.
“I fell.”
I grabbed Emma’s hand. She was trembling, like me. The shock of knowing our mother fell from high up in the tent was too much. Too terrible. Hitting the hard ground, lying there injured. Her body shattered. And we knew nothing about it. As the chill—the horror—of her story sank in, I managed to focus on what she was saying.
“I thought about the years of training, the pain I endured at every performance. I’d given my heart and soul to the circus. I was lucky I survived the fall, but my life as an aerialist was over. Done.”
I didn’t move. I swear I was holding my breath the whole time. I understood now the unbelievable emotions tearing her apart when she couldn’t fly on the trapeze anymore. She was like the gold spangles Emma sewed onto my costumes. They could withstand tugging and pulling, but once the delicate spangles were ripped from the silk, they lay in the sawdust.
Useless and forgotten. No longer shiny and bright.
“That was five years ago,” she said, exhaling and pulling us out of her glittery world gone forever. “Afterward, I got odd jobs coaching aerialists, not telling anyone who I was. It was hard for a while, but I finally received a settlement from the circus insurance company because there was a question of whether or not the rigging was attached properly.”
“Didn’t anyone recognize you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’d wear different hats and dark glasses to disguise my appearance. I’d changed, baby. I was no longer Corrina Pova, queen of the air. She was dead and it was better if she stayed that way. I didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. I couldn’t bear for my husband, my daughters to see me like this after the accident.” This time she didn’t try to hide her crippled hand. “I didn’t want to become a burden on you like your father was.”
“Why didn’t you give us a chance?” I pleaded. “Why? We missed you, our mother. We didn’t care about anything else.”
“I had my pride. I didn’t want to see the pity in your eyes. In Emma’s. I realize now I’m an old fool. But I never stopped following you on social media. That’s how I found your princess video. I sent the link to the Monterran Cultural Arts Committee. When I found out they’d chosen you for the festival, I was thrilled. It was like everything I’d lost had come back to life again. The excitement of the crowd. The vibration of their laughter and applause sending a thrill through me that never got old.
“I was so proud of you, Afton, I had to see you. See Emma.” She squeezed my sister’s hand. “But my money was running out. I used what I had left to pay Emma’s expenses so she could come over here with you. I wanted to see both of you one last time.”
I looked at Emma, strangely quiet, as if she’d heard the story before. Then it hit me.
“You knew our mother paid your way,” I said to my sister, not angry. Just surprised. “That’s why you wandered off at the train station. To meet her. Tell her we were here.”
I couldn’t believe it. In a way, my mother was responsible for me meeting Ricco. Did stranger things happen?
Emma nodded. “I made the scarf for her before we left. Mama wrote to me, told me she was living in Monterra. I told her about Dad and what happened to me afterward. She wanted to see us, but I knew how much hurt and anger you had stored up inside you. So we came up with a plan so she could see you do your routine.”
“Guess I spoiled your plans when I spotted you, Mama.”
Funny, the word curled off my tongue without regret. I could see how much that pleased her. Her whole body shook, her eyes glistened with tears.
“I know how you feel about me, Afton,” she said, “but I want to make it up to you. Let me, please.”
I held back my own tears, trying to push down the raw emotion making my stomach clench. I buried my face in my hands. I shook all over, utterly ashamed of the horrible things I’d done, the wretched feelings that boiled over and made me say things I now regretted.
I didn’t have to look up to know who cradled her arms around me, held me tight and rocked me back and forth. I lifted my head. “I’m so sorry . . .” I said over and over again.
“Shhh . . . your mama’s here, baby, and she loves you.”
“I love you, too, Mama,” I said, and we both cried.