The Orphan's Tale(74)

A crowd of performers and workers linger a good distance away, watching us. I gesture to one of the men, waving him over. “We need to return Herr Neuhoff to his carriage,” I instruct, forcing some authority into my voice in hopes that he will listen. “Then contact the undertaker...” Astrid turns away, not wanting to hear the details.

“Astrid, come, let us help you.” I stand and try to raise her up. But she lies on the ground beside Herr Neuhoff, refusing to move, like a dog that has lost its master. “You aren’t doing Peter any good,” I add.

“Peter is gone,” she says, each word heavy with grief.

A hand touches my shoulder. I look up to see Luc, holding Theo. When we had reached the fairgrounds and seen the police, I had thrust Theo at Luc and raced to help Astrid. Thankfully, he had the good sense to keep Theo out of sight.

Luc starts to kneel behind Astrid, as if to help me lift her. But I wave him off; Astrid seeing him will only make things worse. “Come, Astrid,” I plead, straining again to help her to her feet. I start forward with effort, nearly buckling under her weight. Luc follows at a distance, carrying Theo.

“Why?” I cannot help but ask as we limp toward the train. “Why would they arrest Peter?” When I had first seen the police, I wondered if they had learned of the wedding, which violated the laws of Vichy and the Reich. But if that had been the case, they would have taken Astrid, as well.

“The act,” she replies flatly. Part of me had already known the answer. They wanted Peter because of the way in which he mocked the Germans in the show.

We reach the train and I help Astrid into the sleeper car. Though it is late, the carriage is empty, the others still clustered outside talking about everything that had happened. I help Astrid to her berth. “You should rest,” I say as I take off her shoes. She does not reply, but sits stiffly, staring straight ahead. Though I have seen her here dozens of times, she looks strangely out of place. She should be with Peter, celebrating their wedding night. Now that dream is gone. It hardly seems possible.

I reach back through the door of the train to take Theo from Luc. Then I try to hand Theo to Astrid. Usually he is such a comfort to her, but now she waves him away. “Astrid, we’ll have to make arrangements for Herr Neuhoff,” I begin. “We’ll have to cancel tonight’s show, of course. But by tomorrow we should perform again. Don’t you agree?” I hear a note of pleading in my voice, wanting her to take charge as she always has. She sits motionless, though, her will gone. Tears well up in my eyes and spill over. I want so much to be strong for her but I cannot help it. “Oh, Astrid, I just can’t believe that Herr Neuhoff is gone.” Even though I had known him for only a few months, he was in so many ways more a father than my own had been.

“He isn’t the only one,” she replies sharply.

“Yes, of course,” I reply hastily, wiping my eyes. I have no right to cry in front of her when she has lost so much more. “We mustn’t give up on Peter, though. He’ll be back.” She does not reply.

Suddenly her face blanches. She lies down, clutching her stomach. Then she turns away to face the wall and lets out a moan. This is not just grief, I realize, but pain. I see it then, a small pool of blood under her, seeping through her skirt onto the sheet. “Oh, Astrid, your baby!” I cry, blurting out her secret in my panic. The stain grows larger even as I watch. “I’ll go into town and find a doctor.”

She shakes her head with resignation. “There’s nothing to be done,” she replies. “It’s too late.”

“Someone should check you,” I protest. “Let me fetch Berta at least.”

“I just want to rest.” How long has she known this was happening?

“I’m so sorry...” I search for the right words. “I know what it feels like to lose a child.” But my child survived to be born; whether this makes it better or worse I do not know.

“It’s for the best really,” she says darkly. “I never would have been any good at being a mother.”

“That isn’t true,” I protest. “I’ve seen you with Theo and I know that isn’t true.”

“You must admit, I’m hardly the mothering type.” Her eyes do not meet mine.

“There are all different kinds of mothers,” I say, trying to help but feeling at the same time as though I am just making things worse.

“Without a baby, I’m free to perform or do anything else I’d like,” she says as if trying to convince herself. She rolls toward me. “Nothing is going to change what has happened.” Then she looks past me and her eyes widen. I turn to see Luc, who stands uneasily in the doorway to the carriage, not daring to enter but not wanting to leave me either after all that had happened. “What is he doing here?” Astrid demands.

“Astrid...” I struggle to find an explanation as to why I am with Luc after I had sworn to her I would stop seeing him. But I find none.

“Convenient how he took you away from here just before the arrest,” she spits in French, wanting Luc to hear. “He must have known.”

“No!” I cry. Luc would never betray us. I wait for Luc to say something to deny Astrid’s accusation and defend himself. But he does not. Astrid’s distrust seeps through me. Luc had seen Peter’s act, and even warned Peter it would lead to trouble. I recall Luc’s words to Peter the night he had come to the circus: They’ll arrest you... Was that a prediction or had he known what was to come?