The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina (41)

“I don’t know, yet,” she said, but Marimar felt it. The familiar pull of the night, the whisper of the earth. Those times her grandmother had told her to find fairies in the hills, to listen to the stars, Marimar had always come home defeated. Now she knew she hadn’t been listening. They had been with her all along. The dragonflies shimmered with light, rising all around the twilight valley, with the magic of fading stars and the wild mountains.

They were here for her.

They screamed at her, and Marimar did what she’d wanted to do since she returned home. She screamed back.





12

ORQUíDEA MONTOYA BECOMES ORQUíDEA DIVINA





Part II

HIBERNATION





13

LA VIE EN ROSE




When Orquídea Divina arrived at the Londo?o Spectacular Spectacular, she was offered a single ticket and a seat with an obstructed view. She’d never been to the circus before, though the Buenasuertes had gone every time one rolled around. Wilhelm Jr. loved the elephants and Greta would save her candied apple and eat it little by little, like a rabbit gnawing away at a carrot too big for its size.

When the lights inside the tent dimmed, the barking chatter from the crowd ceased. There were whispers. Children getting in their last curious questions. Is that a real lion? When does the flying woman come out? Do they really have a living star?

Orquídea wondered all of those things. Leggy women danced in a line. They looked like a row of marionettes moving as if the same person was pulling the strings. They were followed by clowns on bicycles, which she hated because the heat was making the diamonds painted around their eyes run. There was an elephant that ran around like a dog, and she felt his heavy steps deep down within her. She was most fascinated by the long-legged woman who walked across a tightrope. Orquídea held her breath until the young woman crossed to the other side, and all she could think was that she had finally witnessed the living embodiment of what it was like growing up in La Atarazana to walk that long road to and from the river. Hadn’t she done her best to be a good girl? Hadn’t she tried to do right by herself and her mother? Orquídea imagined herself in the bodysuit covered in rhinestones, her hair pulled back into an elegant bun. She pictured herself walking across the high wire without a net.

The Spectacular Spectacular went on into the night, but it felt like no time had passed at all. She laughed at the jugglers who dropped their things on top of each other, the men lusting after the woman who swallowed swords. Watched mothers cover the eyes of their children as a mermaid was brought out to the center of the stage in the bed of a giant pink clam. She had long braids piled up like a crown atop her head and pearls that dripped over her shoulders and across her chest, covering her nipples but nothing else. Her abdomen was soft, and the tail that she was wearing created the illusion that she was truly half woman, half fish. Boys dressed like sailors pushed her around the circus grounds so that everyone could witness her. Orquídea and the mermaid made eye contact. She was sure of it, even if it was dark and Orquídea’s face was just one among hundreds.

When the stage had been cleared, a spotlight shone down on a man. Orquídea felt a pang under her ribcage, a twisting sensation that she’d never had in her life, because she’d never seen a man like this before. He wore a blue velvet tailcoat trimmed in gold. His trousers hugged the thick muscles of his thighs and calves. When he removed his matching blue top hat and held it over his chest, there was a murmur of pleasure. Orquídea had not been the only one to notice his beauty. Black waves slicked back in a way that made him appear polished, but not manicured. His beard was neat, trimmed in clean lines around a sharp jaw. He looked like the Devil himself had come to Ecuador to find her. Maybe that had been the voice she’d heard. Maybe, because he was watching her with sapphire eyes framed by thick black brows. She peered over her shoulder, but when she looked back, he flashed a smile that gutted her.

“Ladies and gentlemen! People of the center of the world!” His voice was deep and booming, melodic in a way that made the audience answer with delighted cries. Orquídea found herself sticking her thumb and index finger against her teeth and letting out a sharp whistle that cut through the reverie. He noticed her again and this time he floundered, for a breath of a second. He looked like he’d forgotten where he was or what he was supposed to say next, and all he could do was look at her, Orquídea Montoya.

When he recovered, he said, “The Londo?o Spectacular Spectacular has been all over the world and I’m here to tell you that no crowd had shown us as much love as you have tonight.” He pressed his hand over his heart and accepted the applause, the kernels of popcorn, and even a lace brassiere.

He chuckled, like he was flattered, and gave that general direction a wink. “This is our first event since my father, the great Pedro Bolívar Londo?o Asturias II, left God’s green earth. I don’t think I will ever fill my father’s very large shoes, but by God, I will try. We are a family. For decades my father has brought together the most marvelous, curious, inexplicable people from around the globe. But tonight… tonight we bring you something from the heavens.” He paused and waited for the crowd to lean in, just a little bit more. “I present to you—the Living Star!”

The tent went pitch black. So dark, Orquídea couldn’t even see her own hand in front of her. There were yelps of fear and excitement. She’d seen the advertisement outside, but she hadn’t known what to expect.