The Orphan's Tale(59)

“Your father, he orders the police to round them up?” I ask.

“No!” he snaps, then quickly recovers. “My father follows orders. He maintains a pretense of support in order to protect the village.”

“And to protect himself,” I blurt out, unable to hold back. “How can you stand it?”

“Really, he isn’t like that,” Luc continues, calmer now, his voice pleading. “Papa was different before my mother died. He once gave a family a house for an entire year rent-free.” Luc needs to believe that his father is a good man, and he is asking me to believe it, too. I had done the same. After my own father had kicked me out, I still remembered the mornings when we’d walk into town for fresh bread, just the two of us, him whistling as we went. He had bought me an extra croissant. I was still that girl, though. What had changed?

Luc continues, “I begged my father to at least help Marcel’s family. But he said there was nothing to be done.” His words pour out in a tumble as though he has not until this very moment been able to share with another the things that he has seen.

“It’s hard when the people we love do awful things,” I offer.

We both sit silently then, the now-dark sky causing the light in the loft to dim. I notice that his jaw is square and strong, a faint late-day stubble pressing through.

“Where are you from?” he asks, changing the subject.

I shift uneasily. Until now, I have managed not to say much about myself. “The Dutch coast. Our village was so close to the sea you could walk down to the end of the road and catch your dinner.” It seems so strange to be talking about the life I’d lost. I want to tell him everything, about how my parents cast me out and how I found Theo. But of course I cannot.

“Why did you leave?” Luc asks abruptly.

No matter how many times I am asked that question, I am still ill-prepared to answer it. “My father was very cruel, so when my mother died I took my brother and fled,” I say, repeating the now-familiar tale. I am not ready to tell him the truth.

“It’s hard not having your mother,” he says, looking deeply into my eyes. I hate myself for the lies I’ve told. But right now, even though my mother is not dead, losing her feels more real and painful than ever. “And then you joined the circus?” he asks.

“Yes. Just a few months ago.” I pray he will not ask about the time between.

“It’s remarkable that you learned to do all of those tricks so quickly.” His voice is full with admiration and wonder.

“Astrid trained me,” I say.

“That angry older woman?” I struggle not to laugh at his perception of Astrid.

At the same time I am defensive of an outsider criticizing her. “She’s amazing,” I say.

“She didn’t perform at the show,” Luc notes, but I don’t reply. I can’t tell him the rest of the story, why Astrid is angry with me, without revealing to him the fact that she is a Jew. “Perhaps she’s jealous that you were in the show and she wasn’t,” Luc ventures.

I laugh aloud. “Astrid, jealous of me? That isn’t possible.” Astrid is talented, famous, powerful. But then I see myself through her eyes, a younger woman with the child fate had denied her, performing when she cannot. Maybe the idea is not so ridiculous after all. “It isn’t like that,” I add. “Astrid is a famous aerialist. She’s just very intense. Peter says she’s a danger to herself,” I add.

“Peter, he’s the clown?” Luc asks.

I nod. “He and Astrid are together.”

“He sure didn’t like me,” Luc says with a half smile.

“He’s very protective of Astrid,” I explain. “She thinks it’s just for company but she can’t see the depth of his feelings for her.”

He watches me intensely. “I can imagine.”

I look away, feeling myself blush. “The show...you never told me what you thought.” I brace myself for the criticism that would surely crush me.

“You looked beautiful,” he offers and I blush. “You were amazing.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “It’s just that I was sad for you.”

“Sad?” My happiness fades.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asks. “All of those people, watching, I mean?” His tone is one of concern. But there is pity, too. “You don’t have to do it, you know,” he adds.

I can’t explain that in the spotlight I am someone else. Still, how dare he judge us? “I’ve found something I’m good at,” I say defensively, crossing my arms. “A way to take care of myself and Theo. Not that you would understand.”

Suddenly being alone with him and all of the lies between us are too much. “I have to go,” I say abruptly. I stand so quickly I lose my balance, nearly tumbling from the loft.

“Wait.” Luc grabs my leg to steady me, his arm warm through the fabric of my dress. I look down. Though it is not nearly as high as the trapeze, there is no net and I am paralyzed with fright. What am I doing here?

Luc draws me down to the hay once more, closer now. He places a hand against my cheek. “Noa,” he says gently. Our faces are inches apart, his breath warm on my upper lip. Waves of confusion swirl around me. He likes me; I know that now. I cannot pull away.