Catching the Wind(84)

“My mother took that, right before she abandoned me.”

“It’s almost like she wanted you to be happy for life. Like she had this image in her mind and in this album of how she wanted your future to be.”

“I stopped smiling the moment I got off that ride,” Quenby said. “And it was a long time before I smiled again.”

“She loved you, Quenby.”

“But she loved Chase even more. And perhaps the drugs.”

“People sometimes do terrible things when they think they’re in love.”

“Chase said something about Jocelyn’s mother,” she’d mused. “Perhaps I still have family. . . .”

Now Lucas stopped on the path, interrupting Quenby’s thoughts. “There it is.”

Lifting her eyes, she saw a yellow-and-red circus tent. Two Dumbo rides with carousels turning in opposite directions. The flying elephants were ablaze in color, the lights reflecting in the pools below them. The carousels seemed larger than she remembered. And the old fence was gone. The ride, in its essence, was the same, but it had changed in the past two decades. Like her.

“I think we need to take another flight together,” Lucas said.

Her eyebrows slipped up. “On the Global?”

“No, on an elephant.”

She took a step back. “I don’t think so.”

Lucas reached for her hand, trying to inch her toward the circus tent. “New memories, Quenby.”

She hesitated at first, but Lucas wasn’t trying to harm her. He only wanted the best. One more ride on Dumbo might do her some good.

She climbed into the seat of an elephant clothed in orange, wide enough for a kid and an adult. Lucas began to climb in beside Quenby, but she stopped him. “I like my personal space, Lucas.”

He smiled. “I happen to like your personal space too.”

She eyed him again before scooting toward the far side. Truth was, she didn’t want to ride this without him.

His arm rested casually behind her, her back rigid as they rose from the ground.

“Let’s fly, Quenby,” he shouted over the music.

She took the joystick and flew high above the park, above the lights. And it felt . . . magical. As if she could do anything.

They spent the evening riding the mountains of Space and Thunder. Then they dined in the Beast’s enchanted castle before Quenby talked Lucas into taking a cruise around It’s a Small World.

The sky was pitch-dark when they emerged from the trip across the continents, the song looping in her head. But it didn’t annoy her. It made her happy instead. They did share hope and fears, laughter and tears, with people all over the world.

Night cooling the air, they stood by a waterway and watched sprays of golden fire, a spangle of color, turn the dark sky into a parade of light. When Lucas pulled her close, Quenby didn’t resist. She leaned back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

The strength of his body anchored her; the touch of his hands, overlapping hers, sent a tremor of warmth through her skin. The snide remarks, cutting comments, came easy to her, the keeping him at an arm’s length, but what was she supposed to do now?

As she rested against him, she knew they needed to discuss this, whatever this was. Or maybe there would be no discussion. By the time they landed back in London, he would probably change his mind; then he would leave like everyone else.

A fountain of a thousand lights rocketed up into the air and cascaded down, glittering like pixie dust. The warmth of it, the beauty, mesmerized her. Oddly enough, in this park where she’d lost everything, perhaps she would begin to find again what was most important to her.

The finale ended, but she didn’t want Lucas to let her go.

He stepped back, clearing his throat. “Ready for an overnight back to London?”

She didn’t want to step away, but it was time to return to Newhaven and find Brigitte’s wishing tree.

He smiled. “It’s a good thing we have Samantha to chaperone tonight.”

She nudged him. “You’re the only one who needs a chaperone.”

“Quenby—” he started, his voice much too serious.

She stopped him. “Let’s not break the magic.”

“This isn’t about a place,” he said, the crowd behind them swarming toward the exit.

“I know.” At least she thought she did. Places were powerful.

“It’s about people. Namely you and me.”

“Tomorrow, Lucas.”

“I thought, when I first met you, that you were arrogant—”

“I wasn’t the arrogant one!”

“But now I think—”

She shook her head. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Do you need me to write a contract?”

“No—”

“We can seal it with a kiss.”

Quenby shivered. “A handshake will do just fine.”





Chapter 50




Rodmell, June 1956

When Lily Ward first asked for the baby girl’s name, Brigitte had called her Hannah after her mother, so that the woman who’d loved Brigitte as a child would never be forgotten. A Hebrew name meaning “favor” or “grace.”

It was a miracle that Hannah had survived her early days of starvation and the filth at the Mill House. She’d grown into a striking young woman who entertained her sister and mother and ultimately the entire village with heart-stirring melodies that teemed from her lips.