Love's Final Act (Circus of Love Romances Book 3) Page 9

  The cold winter air sliced through my sweater, causing me to shiver. I closed the door, not waiting for Simon’s form to recede down the front walk. Clutching my arms across my chest, trying to hold onto the some of the warmth that had been blown away by the wind, I turned and trudged back up the stairs. Each step felt a little steeper, a little more difficult to lift my legs to meet the rise. Simon would be fine. He would recover, whether to realize he loved his fiancée and married her or find someone else. Hopefully, he wouldn’t get dragged down into a spiral of self-destruction before he got there.

  I eventually reached the landing, panting slightly when I did. At that moment Robert walked in from the kitchen carrying two steaming bowls. He placed them carefully on the table, which was already set with a tray of assorted finger foods, and two glasses of wine. Not a cup of coffee in sight.

  “Thank you,” I said. I covered the short distance between us with a couple of long strides. When I reached Robert, I slid my arms around his waist, and rested my cheek against his.

  “Of course, love.” Robert returned my embrace pulling me tightly to him. “That can’t have been easy. It wasn’t easy for me waiting in the kitchen.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed. Tears threatened to overwhelm me. Out of relief or frustration? Out of excess emotion, certainly. “It wasn’t, but it’s done. Hopefully, Simon can find himself some peace and leave me alone now.” I peeled myself away from Robert so I could look at him as we spoke. “I had no idea he was going to come here—”

  “I know.” Robert kept a light touch on my elbows.

  “I don’t return his feelings at all.” I said.

  “I know.” Robert smiled, the skin around the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

  I sighed. “I love you.”

  “I know.” Robert turned, looping his arm through mine. “I love you, too.” He walked me around the table and pulled back my chair so I could sit.

  “Let’s hope we have no more interruptions until our wedding day.” I plopped down into the chair, leaning forward over my bowl of soup, so I could take in the scent of garlic and ginger wafting up from it. My mouth watered.

  “Let’s not jinx it, love. I feel like almost anything could happen at this point.”

  Chapter 7

  Somehow the next couple of days passed in quiet. No ghosts resurrected themselves. No catastrophe struck the officiant, or the band; no fire ravaged Dehlia and Stephen’s home. Those days were downright boring as I went through the daily motions of waking, eating, training, and sleeping. The only disruption to my respite was the occasional thought of Cirque Celestial, which was generally limited to: I can’t possibly go to the audition; can I? Then I would push my indecision to the back my mind and let it stew until the next time it briefly surfaced.

  Then came December twenty-ninth. Two days before the wedding. The day guests started to arrive. Robert’s parents, a close cousin of his, a couple of his old gymnastic buddies, none of whom I’d met in person before. We’d periodically connected online with Ellen and David McAllister, so I could say they seemed pleasant, but in small doses even my parents could deceive an ordinary person into believing they were caring and kind. The McAllisters were expected in town by noon and I’d soon find out for myself what type of people I was about to inherit as in-laws.

  “Beth,” Robert called from the kitchen, where he was putting together lunch.

  I was in the bedroom in nothing but my underwear, staring at the open closet in front of me, not really absorbing anything I looked at. “Yeah?”

  “Just got a text, they should be here in about twenty.”

  I hugged my arms to my bare torso. If it was possible, my body temperature dropped a degree or two, with the words in about twenty. “Okay.” What the hell was I supposed to wear when meeting my in-laws for the first time? My wardrobe was comprised overwhelmingly of exercise clothes.

  “Love.”

  I jumped. Robert was standing in the door frame of our bedroom, a wooden spoon in his hand, an apron tied around his waist. “Put on whatever you’ll be comfortable in. My parents won’t judge you if you wear leggings and a sweatshirt. My dad was a phys ed teacher, remember? His version of fancy dress is doing up the top button on his polo shirt.”

  I blinked. Robert smiled, then walked toward me, his arms open, drawing me into a strong, enveloping hug. “Everything will be fine. You’ve talked to my parents before. They aren’t like yours. They’re not going to criticize you for your life choices. Honestly, I think they’re relieved I’ve finally stopped touring, and am settling down.”

  Finally stopped touring. That was the first time I’d heard Robert say it so definitively. He’d been in various performance troupes for more than a decade since injury had prevented him from competing in the Olympics in his senior year of college. He’d barely batted an eyelid when he agreed to leave Circus of Height, but I’d assumed it was to get away from the people and the drama, not necessarily to settle down forever. What had I thought I was doing when we left the circus? Had I thought I’d never perform in a large-scale show either?

  I used to be career focused. Back in high school, I had a plan like a straight-forward roadmap laid out in front of me. When Simon and I were friends. Much of that had vanished when I left law school. I didn’t want to think I’d been adrift since then, without aim or direction, more going with the flow, letting things take their own course.

  “Love?”

  Had I zoned out? I pulled away from Robert so I could see his face. His expression was mixed, like he’d told a joke, then worried he’d offended me.

  “I was kidding, of course.” Robert smiled, as he released me. “I’ve firmly told them not to ask about children if they want to stay invited to the wedding.”

  I tried to force a laugh, coming out through my nose as a jerky burst of air. “Of course.”

  Robert gestured with the spoon he still held in his hand, “I better go back to lunch before something burns…and you should put something on before you freeze.” Then he left.

  Right. Something to wear. I stepped toward my closet, closed my eyes, and grabbed the first thing my fingers touched. I peeked, then sighed. I’d managed to grab the only fine evening wear in my possession. Definitely not. I slid the dress back into its place, and as I did, noticed a button-down blouse with a bird-in-flight print that I hadn’t worn since moving here. I selected that and my best pair of jeans and got dressed.

  ∞∞∞

  Closer to half an hour later, Ellen and David McAllister climbed up the steps to our apartment.

  “Robbie.” David clapped his son on the shoulder as he vigorously shook Robert’s hand. Mr. McAllister, as predicted, wore a polo shirt—top button undone—the short sleeves demonstrated he was still in excellent shape for a man in his late fifties.

  “Beth.” As David turned to me, I found myself looking at the future image of my husband-to-be. Father and son looked remarkably similar, save the jag in Robert’s nose. David clapped me on the shoulders, using both hands this time, and planted a light kiss on each of my cheeks. “So wonderful to finally meet you.”

  “Good to meet you,” I said, barely remembering how to use my lips to form words.

  Then came Ellen. She couldn’t be more than five feet tall and maybe one hundred pounds, but the fierce hug she gave me could have come from someone twice her size. “Beth, delighted, absolutely delighted to meet you, dear.”

  “Delighted,” I said, as I swallowed hard. Tears? Damn it. How could two people I’d never met in person before do this to me? Probably because my own parents had required so little effort to throw me out of their lives when I decided not to pursue a high-prestige, high-paying, high-stress career. I cleared my throat. “Let me take your coats, then I think lunch is ready. Robert’s been busy in the kitchen.”

  Once outwear was safely stored on our recently reinforced coat tree, the four of us sat down to eat: quiche, two different cold salads, freshly squeezed orange juice. I was about to marry a
culinary genius.

  As we ate, Robert and his parents did most of the talking. Not in the boisterous, breathless way Becca did, but in calm, almost soothing tones of people not in a hurry. How was the drive from Columbus? Long, but uninteresting—the way a drive should be. How was Christmas? Quiet, went over to the neighbours for dinner. I listened, not that the McAllister’s were ignoring me, but their conversation touched on people and places I had no knowledge of. It was nice to be able to sit, included but not called upon. It felt restful after all the tense conversations I’d been forced into recently. Eventually things steered toward the wedding.

  “Is everything all set, Beth, dear? Do you have everything you need?” Ellen smiled at me.

  I nodded, as I finished my final mouthful of quiche. “Yes, friends of ours have been very helpful. We might set up a few decorations at Dehlia and Stephen’s tomorrow if there’s time, but I’m not all that worried about it. As long as we have the officiant and the proper paperwork, that’s all I care about.”

  “It’s nice to keep things small.” Ellen nodded. “Less stress, less fuss.”

  “Less expensive,” David said, although by the way he spoke it was clear he thought we’d been prudent to keep our wedding small. My father would have meant it as an insult, like we were being cheap.

  “It’s too bad your parents couldn’t make it. It would have been lovely to meet them,” Ellen gave me another smile, warm and friendly, another black and white contrast of what my own parents were like.

  I coughed and glanced toward Robert. We hadn’t been explicit about why none of my family were attending the wedding. Polite conversation didn’t generally provide a good opening to explain how my parents had disowned me, and my brother was a narcissistic sociopath.

  “Is there something wrong?” Ellen reached across the table, placing her hand on mine. “Are your parents—”

  “My parents are alive and well, last I knew.” Last spring, during that near-catastrophic visit to my parents, it had been a total disaster. At least Robert hadn’t been frightened off, which I would have understood had he been.

  “My parents and I don’t speak,” I continued, realizing that David and Ellen were staring at me, mouths slightly agape, clearly unsure of how to react to my communication. “They don’t approve of my decision to go into circus arts, and we haven’t been able to find a way around the issue since.”

  “I’m so sorry, Beth, dear.” Ellen patted my hand gently.

  I shrugged. “I’ve accepted it. It doesn’t really bother me anymore.” It was true. I’d exhausted most of my feelings toward my parents. I felt no pangs of sadness or disappointment when my birthday or holidays passed by without a word from them.

  Ellen and David looked at each other for a moment. These loving people evidently couldn’t imagine how parents could drop a child from their lives. A few silent gestures followed, then Ellen stood from the table, and retreated to the top of the stairs where she’d left a cloth shopping bag.

  “I’m not sure when the right time is to give this to you, Beth, but this seems as good as any.” Ellen extended her arm across the table, holding out a narrow, rectangular object, wrapped in shiny silver wrapping paper.

  I took the box, “Thank you,” I said, as I scanned the faces of three smiling McAllisters. Was Robert in on this secret? His grin was as big as David and Ellen’s, so he must be aware of what was coming. My stomach, which had been feeling pleasantly sated on homemade quiche, now felt uncomfortably full. I had to react correctly, or I was about to let those around me down.

  “It’s all right, love, they asked about this first.” Robert placed his hand on my knee, his warmth soaking through the denim of my old jeans.

  Maybe the McAllisters asked their son, but they didn’t ask me. I’d insisted to everyone no gifts, nothing, now here was something. I forced the edges of my mouth up, and looked around the table, desperate to be as good as sport as possible. Digging my index finger under the edge of the wrapping, I pried the tape off the end fold, then continued around the edge of the box. Once I’d tossed the silver paper to the floor, I held a plain brown box with an insignia embossed on the top. It looked suspiciously like a jewelry box.

  I flicked my gaze up to meet Robert’s. He shrugged slightly, as if in an encouragement to keep going. Instead, I looked across the table at Ellen, who’s jewelry I almost certainly held in my hands.

  “It can be your something borrowed if you like. Or something old. Or blue. Or all three.” Ellen bit her lip, evidently aware of my feelings around the pomp and circumstance of weddings, and perhaps after learning of my non-relationship with my parents, worried she’d offended me. “I’m sure you don’t have much call for fancy dress in your line of work, but I’d be happy to have you keep it, or if that will make you uncomfortable, you can wear it for the wedding and give it back afterward.”

  With that ringing disclaimer, I lifted the lid to find a brown velvety jewelry case. I slid the case out of the box and opened it. Inside was a fine silver chain, adorned with a sapphire pendant, about the size of a quarter. It was clearly an accompaniment to the ring—I’d managed to remember to wear for once—from Robert’s grandmother. Something old, indeed.

  “It’s very beautiful,” I said. That was truthful enough. I looked around at the three surrounding me, their smiles a little dampened, possibly from the coolness of my enthusiasm. “I’ll definitely wear this for the wedding. Becca will only be momentarily disappointed that I won’t be wearing what she picked out for me, but I’m sure she’ll get over it quickly when she sees this.”

  The McAllisters released a collective sigh of relief, followed by a little chuckle from Robert, who could imagine Becca’s reaction as well, then we went back to picking at what was left of our lunches.

  ∞∞∞

  After we finished eating and the table was cleared, David and Ellen remained long enough to help wash dishes before they excused themselves to check into their hotel. They were caring people, who didn’t over-stay their welcome. If only having the McAllisters out of the house meant I had time to stop worrying. Next on the list of people arriving were Miranda and Lisa. They’d taken an early morning flight in from the west coast and should now be on the road somewhere between here and Boston—where they’d landed.

  I’d kept in better touch with my friends since last spring, emailing at semi-regular intervals, so I wasn’t necessarily worried about seeing them. They weren’t my family, but they had a barrel-full of embarrassing stories about me that they could whip out at a moment’s notice. Not that I expected that of my friends, but who knew? After a few glasses of wine anything could happen…especially when we were supposed to be going out to dinner with Robert’s gymnastics buddies tonight. I had no idea what to expect there.

  “Love, why don’t you lie down, you look exhausted.”

  Robert and I had been ‘reading’ on the couch. At least Robert seemed to be turning pages at regular intervals, whereas I had been staring at the same paragraph for the last thirty minutes.

  “I’m okay,” I said, as I shifted on the cushions, trying to sit myself up taller. I hated napping. I only slept during the day if I was sick, and I was rarely ill. “Maybe I’ll go for a run, it’s warmer than is has been, that’ll get my energy up before Miranda and Lisa get here.”

  “Do you want company?” Robert closed his magazine, but kept his finger tucked in his place, no doubt already aware of what I would say.

  “No, no. I’d prefer to have some time to myself. I’ll go for a couple of miles and be back soon.” I smiled, gave Robert a peck on the cheek then headed off to the bedroom to get out of my nice clothes, and into my daily uniform of leggings and technical shirt. Most people consider jeans laidback, but to me they’d become tight and restricting.

  Once properly attired, I grabbed my windproof jacket, laced up my running shoes, and headed outside. It had warmed up since the cold snap before Christmas, but that had led to a partial melt, making the sidewalks hazardous. I shou
ldn’t run at all. The last thing I needed was to slip and sprain an ankle, or worse, break something. Wearing a cast for the wedding would be a pain, but that would be nothing compared to not being able to teach or perform once we got through the holidays. I wouldn’t be able to audition for Cirque Celestial either.

  Maybe taking a spill on some ice would solve that problem? A bad break would mean a cast for at least four weeks or more, meaning I couldn’t attend the audition in Canada at the end of January.

  Fuck. What a way to think.

  I’d reached the end of our block, and carefully rounded a partially cleared sidewalk corner which led away from downtown Northboro, toward a park and running path.

  When had I become so indecisive? When my decisions didn’t affect just me anymore, but Robert too? He’d said this morning his parents were relieved he was settling down. He seemed relieved to have settled down. He was an excellent coach. An excellent cook. An excellent lover. If I went to the audition, and if I was offered a part, he’d have to decide between going back out on the road to be my dependant or remaining behind and being gainfully employed while I performed. We’d be separated for months on end.

  After a couple minutes of running my core was warm. I undid one of the zippers underneath my armpit to allow air to circulate.

  Would I regret not taking this opportunity? I hadn’t begun my circus training with the goal of performing anywhere, never mind Cirque Celestial. I’d started because it was fun, and it took me away from mountains of homework. Then the silks had become a safe haven when I walked away from law school, which eventually opened up to a new career path. Now? Now I wasn’t happy. Was it the small-town vibes of Northboro? The grind of teaching and the relatively small opportunity to perform? Both?

  I picked up speed when I hit the boundaries of the park; the pathways in the park were maintained by the city.