The Orphan's Tale(67)

I break away from Peter and burst through the circle. “Come,” I say, taking her hand and leading her back into the center with me. Making her one of us. She clasps my fingers gratefully. I hold her hand and Peter’s, too, as we begin to dance, not caring if the others think it strange. I do not want Noa to be left out. But as we spin and I grow dizzy, I find myself clinging more tightly to her, needing her as much as she needs me to keep the world upright.

The dance ends and a slower song begins. It is an older Romanian song, “The Anniversary Waltz.” Noa and the others step away and I know I am meant to dance only with Peter. He draws me close. He waltzes with more skill than I might have expected, but his movements are slowed and a bit clumsy from drink. As he hums the familiar tune, his lips buzzing against my ear, I can hear my mother singing the lyrics as my brother Jules played them on his violin. “Oh how we danced on the night we were wed...” My eyes burn.

“I need to rest,” I pant in Peter’s ear when the song has ended.

“Do you feel all right?” he asks, touching my cheek with concern. I nod. “I’ll get you some water.”

“I’m fine, darling. You go enjoy the party,” I say, not wanting him to fuss over me. He starts off in the direction of the champagne. I lean against a chair, suddenly weak. A faint sweat breaks out on my brow and my stomach begins to wobble. Not now, I think. I walk around the side of one of the train cars out of sight, in search of a moment’s quiet. Then I stop, hearing voices on the other side.

“The ceremony was lovely,” Noa says to someone I cannot see. Her tone is uneasy.

Then I hear Emmet. “If only it was real,” he says sarcastically. How dare he insult my marriage to Peter?

“It is real,” Noa protests with as much courage as she can muster. “Even if the government is too foolish to recognize it.”

“Best to get married here,” Emmet remarks. “Before we go back, you know.” His tone is conspiratorial.

There is a pause. “Back?” Noa’s voice is filled with surprise. I hadn’t mentioned my conversation with Herr Neuhoff, or the possibility that we would not be allowed to remain in France. “To Germany?”

“Astrid hasn’t told you?”

“Of course she has,” Noa lies poorly, tries to sound as though she is not surprised. But she cannot maintain the facade. “It isn’t true!” she exclaims, and I wonder if she will cry.

“My father says the French tour is being curtailed.”

“Your father tells you nothing.” I am surprised by the strength in Noa’s voice.

“Maybe you should just go home,” Emmet sneers. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t.” I stifle a gasp. How much does he know about Noa’s past?

I step into the light. “That’s enough.”

Emmet’s eyes flicker at the realization that I heard what he’d said. For a second, I wonder if he will back down. “There’s a reason she was all alone with a child when we found her,” Emmet says, seemingly undaunted. Over his shoulder, I see Noa’s eyes widen, terrified that he has somehow learned the truth. Of course, Emmet is bluffing. He has to be. I would never tell and there’s no other way he could have found out.

“The little tramp, the child has got to be hers.” Emmet spits in Noa’s direction. Without thinking, I reach out and slap him so hard my palm stings. He steps away, staring at me in disbelief, the imprint of my hand bright red across his cheek. “You’ll pay for that,” he swears.

“Get lost before I call your father,” I say.

Emmet slinks away, still clutching his cheek. “Thank you,” Noa says to me when he is out of earshot. “I don’t understand, how could he possibly know about me?”

“I don’t think he actually does,” I say and Noa seems to relax with relief. “I certainly didn’t tell him. Most likely he was just fishing for information.” The truth is that secrets don’t stay buried for long in the circus—they have a way of coming out. But telling Noa this would only worry her further.

Noa casts her eyes downward. “Is it true, what Emmet said? Are we going back?”

“It isn’t certain. Herr Neuhoff mentioned that the administration was threatening it. It was just a possibility and I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I’m not a child,” Noa says, a note of rebuke in her voice.

“I know. I should have said something. But you don’t have to go back, you know.”

“How could I leave the circus?” she asks earnestly, doubt clouding her eyes. “I could never go without you.”

I smile, touched by her loyalty. A few months ago she was a stranger to the circus. An outsider. Now this life is all that she can imagine. “It is only a show—and no show can go on forever.”

“What about you?” she asks. So young, and always with so many questions.

“As I’ve said before, I won’t run. And I won’t hide again,” I vow. They would have to take me first.

“It is not so far to Switzerland,” she ventures, her eyes lifting to the hills. “Perhaps if we went together...”

“No.” I turn to face her squarely. “There are people who have vouched for me. People who would pay with their lives if I was gone. But not for you,” I add. “You can go.”