The Ladies of the Secret Circus by Constance Sayers (ebook reader with internet browser TXT) 📗

was slim chance of disaster, with every spin and twist of the aerialist’s back and each pump of her biceps, the audience was rapt and on the edge of their seats. This act was the perfect combination of spectacle and tension; beauty entwined with danger.

And then there were two of her. A twin second performer in a royal-blue leotard joined. They twisted and spun in unison, some silent count driving the precision with which they intertwined and switched their ropes in an elaborate aerial scheme. After they established their rhythm, a third acrobat appeared.

Lara craned her neck and noticed there was no net under them, only a soft padded floor resembling a gymnasium wrestling mat that wouldn’t stop a leg from breaking or a body from being crushed if the timing was off. And that chance created such a marvelous spectacle that Lara found her heart racing. She was someone who cried at Broadway shows, caught up in the art and emotion of a live performance, yet even as a child, she couldn’t recall ever watching an act with such wonder as she did now. The motions were fluid, like she was seeing dance in the air—what birds might do if they sprouted limbs. The three acrobats slid down into a dramatic finale, and the crowd went wild.

Another act followed, this one a more traditional trapeze act with the swinging poles that Lara was used to seeing. The four performers looked weightless, twisting then tossing their bodies, lightly handing off to one another as though connecting weren’t really necessary. As they juggled themselves high above the crowd, grabbing the bar and twisting onto the platform where they were caught by sure hands until the next performer replaced them, Lara could feel the counts between them, hands reaching, bodies corkscrewing then landing softly, only to turn and repeat the performance with the ease of shuffling a deck. It was as though they were objects being juggled across the stage, not people, so when Lara felt a missed count, she inhaled sharply. Noticing a slight twitch, she could see the performer lose her grip on the catcher’s hand.

Instinctively, Lara recalled the child’s game she’d played where forced perspective made the person tiny, allowing you to “squish” them with your fingers. Using the same technique, Lara said “no” aloud as she slid her hand under the falling aerialist, holding her up with her palm, as if she were a tiny marionette. “Up, up,” whispered Lara, lifting the performer. To anyone watching, she would have looked like she was holding an imaginary teacup. At that same moment, the acrobat would have felt she was now standing firmly on an invisible glass platform. Instinct kicked in, and the girl wiggled toward the catcher’s awaiting grip.

“What are you doing?” Audrey whispered under her breath, her eyes wide. “Stop it.”

The words interrupted Lara’s concentration, and she could feel the spell break for a moment. The aerialist stumbled again. “Up,” said Lara, ignoring her mother and refocusing on the performer. “Up, up.” Lara began to sweat, recalling what he had said to her in the tent: Keep your eyes on the flower. It was like turning a lock. I can do this, she thought.

Closing her eyes, she rotated the performer with her finger the necessary quarter turn to reach the outstretched hands of her catcher. What must have felt like an eternity for both Lara and the performer was measured in mere seconds. The missed handoff was probably unnoticeable to everyone else.

Sure she’d done the task correctly, Lara opened her eyes and stretched her neck to get a different view. The aerialist was floating, her arms and legs almost in a swimming motion while Lara turned her finger. The girl stretched so the catcher could meet her and take another attempt. This one was successful, and he gripped her tightly. Regaining their rhythm, the team finished. Only at the end of the act, after they’d descended the ropes, could Lara visibly see the young girl’s legs shaking. Lara glanced over to find Audrey watching her intently, an eyebrow raised.

She had made a correction in full view of everyone. This was forbidden. While she felt guilty defying Audrey, this wasn’t refashioning a wedding dress. In a second, with a focused command, she’d saved a woman’s life. Surely a little public magic was worth it to avert a disaster. While it had only been a few seconds, Lara knew the amount of skill that had been required to hold the woman in midair for even that small length of time, especially in a panic. Her abilities were increasing. She had little doubt that she could go back to the field now and pull the carousel through—and even re-create the tent—with little effort.

The performance continued with clowns, another trapeze act, three elephants, and finally the trick rider, Audrey’s favorite. The white steed came charging out outfitted with an elaborate headdress, the horse’s long, flowing mane whipping furiously as it rounded the arena. While Audrey had been an experienced horsewoman, Lara had never been encouraged to ride. As she’d gotten older, she’d learned it was because a fall could rupture the one remaining kidney she had.

Standing on the horse’s back, anticipating the rhythm of the animal’s gallop, was the equestrian, a red-haired girl dressed in a green leotard with spangles and fringe. She took in the audience with two full rotations around the tent before contorting herself into a backbend as the horse went around in a smaller circle. Then she performed a forward flip and launched herself from the animal’s back, landing in perfect unison as they traveled. Then, in one swift movement, she slid down and hung with one leg as the pony kept a sure and steady gallop. And then, as if it couldn’t get more daring, a second horse entered the ring and she flipped from one horse to the other, finally riding them out as though she were a gladiator heading home from victory in the ring—and