Page 45

Henry was discharged later that day and had never been happier to return home.

Once again, the little house that had often felt small for two stretched its arms wide and made room for more as Henry returned, and Adelaide joined them once again, and life fell into a new rhythm, moving to the beat of four hopeful hearts and Toto’s exuberant tail.

The women of Liberal were also pleased to have Adelaide back with her cheerful personality, but they couldn’t summon the same enthusiasm as the first time she’d arrived.

Everyone was jaded, fretful, distracted.

The Thursday supper club had dwindled as people left town and, for those who remained, there was no energy for the gossip and stories they’d once exchanged.

The story was always the same now: drought, dust, despair.

Dorothy’s enthusiasm hadn’t dwindled at all. “I’m so pleased Miss Adelaide is here again, Auntie Em. She’s terrific fun!” She was feeling much better and was eager to read Adelaide the stories she’d written, and to show her the silver dance shoes.

“They’re magic shoes,” she said proudly as she clopped around in them.

“Is that so?” Adelaide glanced at Emily, who nodded firmly. “They’re very beautiful. You’d best take good care of them.”

“Oh, I will. They were Mommy’s dancing shoes. Auntie Em says I’ll grow into them.”

Adelaide leaped up from the chair and grabbed Dorothy’s hands. “Dancing shoes, you say? Then let’s dance!”

Emily looked on as the pair danced and twirled around the little room, the silver shoes sparkling in the light.

It reminded her of how she and Annie used to dance with such joy and carefree abandon.

She’d forgotten the simple pleasures of music and dancing and laughter, too worn out and hardened by the everyday struggles she and Henry faced to indulge in such things.

Once again, Adelaide had shown her how easy it was to bring a smile to Dorothy’s face.

Adelaide was the aunt that Emily wished she could be: entertaining, exciting, a little wild and reckless.

“You’re a terrific dancer,” Adelaide said when they were both out of breath and had to stop. “You clearly have your mom’s dancing feet! Or maybe your father was a good dancer, too?”

Emily stiffened.

Dorothy thought for a moment as she put the shoes away. “I don’t remember seeing Daddy dance.”

“I don’t think John—your daddy—was much of a dancer,” Emily added. She was keen to draw a line under the conversation and change the subject.

“Mommy had a special friend who liked to dance,” Dorothy added. “He could do real magic tricks, too.”

For a moment, Emily couldn’t catch her breath. She felt lightheaded as she stood up, brushed her hands briskly against her apron, and announced that she’d forgotten to check on the pigs.

Outside, she hurried to the barn, glad to step into its dim light and hide in its shady corners. She needed to calm down, to think, to process what Dorothy had just said.

“Mommy had a special friend…He could do real magic tricks, too.”

It could only be one person and, if it was, the implications were enormous.

After all these years, had Annie been in touch with Leonardo?

Perhaps seen him regularly, even? Suddenly, Annie’s distance and withdrawal made sense: She’d been protecting herself from further interrogation or judgment from Emily.

And what of Dorothy? How well did she know this special friend?

And—the bigger question—how well did he know her?

Well enough to come looking for her in Kansas?

Emily’s stomach churned. If only she’d told Henry, she could confide in him about it. But she’d locked him out, and now it was her heavy burden to bear, alone.

—

“The kid seems much happier,” Adelaide said as she and Emily watched Dorothy play a game of hopscotch in the yard that evening. Henry had laid out sticks to make the numbered squares, but Toto kept running off with them, so he’d marked out the grid with stones instead.

“The dog has made a huge difference,” Emily said. “She still has strange dreams now and again, and her imagination is as active and vivid as ever, but she’s stopped sleepwalking. She’s much more settled.”

“And you?”

“Me?”

“Yes! You! How are you ?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you? Really? Looks to me you folks are going through hell. You seem afraid, Emily. Like you’re constantly looking over your shoulder.”

Emily had missed Adelaide’s straight-talking, no-nonsense approach to life. She let out a long sigh. “There’s plenty to be afraid of,” she said. “This place teaches you to be wary.”

“I guess so.”

There were many things Emily feared: dust storms and tornadoes, cottonmouths and rattlers in the woodpile.

But it was the fear of failure that haunted her the most: the fear of not fulfilling the trust Annie had placed in her, the fear of admitting that the prairie had defeated them, the fear of uprooting Dorothy all over again.

She had awful dreams of the child being lifted up and carried away, but she could never tell if it was a dust storm, a twister, or some other thing—or person—that took her.

Like a circus performer on a high wire, the life they were building together was precariously balanced.

One wrong move and it could all come crashing down.

She thought of the desperate letter she’d written to Nell.

If the rainmaker could summon the rain, maybe they wouldn’t have to send Dorothy away after all.

“And you, Adelaide?” she asked. “What are you afraid of?”

Adelaide seemed surprised that Emily had turned the question back on her. “Me?”

“Everyone is afraid of something, Adelaide. Some of us just hide it better than others.”

“Maybe so.”

Emily wished Adelaide would talk to her about her brother, tell her what had happened to stop them from flying together, but she decided not to press. She knew how hard it was to talk about some parts of your past.

“Dorothy seems very fond of Henry,” Adelaide continued. “I get the feeling she wasn’t especially close to her father. She doesn’t talk about him much.”

Again, Emily felt herself tense at the turn of the conversation. “John was away a lot. With business. He was a good bit older than Annie, too.”

“I see. And Annie’s special friend? Was he closer to her in age?”

A shiver ran across Emily’s skin. “What do you mean?”

Adelaide looked at her. “It’s none of my business, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“You’re right. It’s none of your business.

You have no idea what you’re talking about.

” Emily’s tone was unusually curt. She sounded just like Annie, her reaction the same as Annie’s had been when she’d broached the subject of Leonardo with her.

The specter of Leonardo Stregone had intensified as Emily and Henry’s bond with Dorothy had grown closer.

Learning that Dorothy knew him, as Emily now suspected, and that he knew her, only complicated things even further.

Adelaide could tell she’d hit a nerve. “I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Emily stood up and called to Dorothy and Toto. “Come along, you two. Time for bed.”

“I guess I’ll turn in, too.” Adelaide placed a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “I’m a good listener, if you ever want to talk.”

Emily did want to talk, desperately, but this was too big a secret for idle conversation.

At bedtime, Dorothy asked if she could look through her mother’s collection of circus memorabilia instead of having a story.

Emily had started to talk about Annie more with Dorothy, conscious of her duty to keep Annie’s memory alive through photographs and stories about their time as young children.

But it was these colorful treasures that most fascinated the child, while Emily tried to ignore the heavy secret carried among the brightly colored posters with their bold declarations of Daring Feats!

and All Manner of Wonders and Marvels! They reminded her of the pamphlet promoting the rainmaker, which Henry had left on the table.

THE REMARKABLE RAIN MAN. The world’s best in precipitation conjuration.

The leading moisture scientist in concussion theory and aerial agitators.

More trickery and false promises, no doubt.

“Which was Mommy’s favorite act?” Dorothy asked. “Was it the Aerial Lorraines?”

Emily winced at the question. “Yes, dear. She liked that one the best.” Lord forgive me , she added silently to herself.

It all felt like such a long time ago, yet as Dorothy leafed through the tickets and posters and idly turned the hourglass, Emily saw time turn the other way, leading her back to those magical evenings at the circus, and her sister as a young woman in love.

“You still think about him, don’t you, Annie.”

“Every day. Every minute. Every hour…You only get one true love of your life, Em. When you find yours, hold tight and never let him go.”

It would seem that Annie hadn’t let her dear aerialist go after all. Emily wished she could be glad for her, but it felt wrong and dangerous. Worst of all, it might have put Dorothy in a very difficult situation, now that Annie was gone.

Emily had tried to find the right moment or words to gently ask Dorothy about Annie’s special friend, but she was afraid of what she might discover if she did. She’d decided it was best left alone.

“Is it bad that I don’t think about Daddy as much as I think about Mommy?” Dorothy asked as Emily tidied the things away.

Emily stalled for a moment. It was a difficult question to answer. “Well, I know you loved your mommy very much. Sometimes we don’t have room in our hearts to love everyone the same way. And that’s okay.”

The child was happy enough with the response, but Emily felt the hollow echo of Annie’s secret in her words.

“You have my eyes, and your Granny’s nose, and I just know you have your father’s brave heart and adventurous spirit…Maybe you’ll meet him one day…Maybe we can be together after all.”