Chapter thirty-seven

Do you want to be the talk of the town in the News Republic tomorrow?” Forrest’s scathing denunciation ripped into Pippa’s already roiling conscience. His hand on her upper arm squeezed to the point of pinching her flesh. Pippa staggered next to him as he pulled her onto the veranda. She cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. Jake had not left her side for the past hour. He had seemed to defend her, and his demeanor challenged the men who’d previously oppressed her. A silent challenge. One that Forrest was fast to meet the instant Jake reluctantly left her side.

A few moments before, he had been summoned with the delivery of a message from the circus grounds. His eyes skimmed it, concern darkened them, and he crumpled the note in his palm.

“Did you know that Patty was leaving the circus?” he’d whispered in her ear.

Pippa looked up at him and couldn’t hide the truth. “Yes.” The look in his eyes stung a bit. She could see the affection he held for Patty. The loyalty. He’d jammed the message in his pocket. “I need to—Benard messaged me. I can’t let Patty leave without—”

His stammering for an explanation told Pippa so much and so little at the same time. That Jake had looked out for Patty was no secret. He’d been doing it probably long before the night he’d left during Lily’s birth to help her out of a scrape.

“Go.” Pippa nodded. It wasn’t fair to try to keep Jake.

“I at least need to check on something. I won’t be long.” With that, he had slipped away.

It was no surprise then that Forrest pounced the moment Jake left her alone. The dark brooding of his eyes and the rigid demeanor of his body told Pippa he would be Richard Ripley’s voice tonight.

“Let me be.” Pippa tried to shake off his hold.

Forrest released her only when she had backed against the stone banister. Light glowed from the ballroom and silhouetted Forrest’s shoulders. Crickets chirruped from the yard below and matched the rapid beating of Pippa’s heart.

Forrest’s finger pointed toward the ballroom, his other hand propped on his waist. “I would have thought you of all people would know how important tonight is. To regain the good graces of this community. Instead you’re cavorting in the corner with the brute who started it all. If you think that will go unnoticed, you’re a fool.”

Pippa should have been used to Forrest’s sour insults by now. But she wasn’t. She placed her hand over her chest and tried to calm herself. “We’re over, Forrest.”

She was breaking their engagement. It was both freeing and terrifying the moment the words escaped her lips.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You need me.”

“I don’t, Forrest. Not anymore.”

“I don’t have time for this behavior, Pippa. Not with Miss Farnsworth here in attendance and ready to cause a rouse.” Forrest shot a glance into the ballroom, as if Georgiana were about to set free a giant python. He jabbed his finger toward her chest but didn’t touch her. “Reform your behavior at once.”

“I’ve no behavior to reform.” She straightened and glared at her intended.

Forrest harrumphed, scoffing. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and his jacket bunched up behind his arms. “The circus is in disarray since Georgiana’s rallies and the sabotage on the tent. And it all started the night Jake Chapman decided to abandon the elephant calf. What else is his magic touch going to light on fire?”

She blushed.

His eyes darkened. “You are playing with that fire, aren’t you, Pippa?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Pippa turned her face to avoid Forrest.

“Don’t you know who he is?” Forrest gripped her chin and forced her to face him.

Pippa whimpered. She twisted her neck to try to release his hold on her, but to no avail. His features were stern, intense and insistent. “I told you that I would take care of you. I would protect you. Stay away from Jake Chapman, and for all that is holy, stay away from the circus.”

“Stay away from the circus?” Pippa winced as Forrest’s fingers bit into her jawline. She felt claustrophobic in the circle of his arms.

“You don’t understand, Pippa, and you shouldn’t.”

“No, Forrest.” Pippa craned her neck to the left, and Forrest finally released her chin. “You don’t understand. I belong there. It’s where I was born, Forrest, and I can’t get it out of my blood.”

“Pippa!” Forrest dropped his voice to a deep hiss. “It’s too dangerous. The tent ropes being tampered with and the tent collapsing was no accident. You can’t insert yourself into a place like that. It’s not for you.”

“But I thought you believed Georgiana to be behind the tent catastrophe? Behind the chaos?”

Forrest shook his head. “Georgiana is a publicity issue. But I know better. There have been other incidents. Accidents that happen, and women—” He stopped abruptly. “There’s a real threat here, Pippa, and I’m telling you that you need to stop this nonsense before you get hurt.”

“You’re talking about the Watchman, aren’t you?” Pippa whispered. None of it was true. None of it made any sense.

Forrest’s eyes darkened. “If you can’t see all I’ve done to protect you, you’re more blind and foolish than I ever thought you were.”

“No. You’re the foolish one.” Pippa’s response rose from the depths of her. Words she’d always wished to be brave enough to say. Her tone was even, her confidence sure. “You were foolish to ever think I could love you.”

The slap from the back of Forrest’s hand seemed to shock him as much as it stung Pippa. His face whitened. Her hands flew up to cup her cheeks, the skin beneath on fire from his smack.

“Pippa!” Forrest’s apologetic cry rent the air between them.

“Get away from me!” Pippa swiped at the tears that came unbidden, even as she shrank back against the veranda’s stone rail. “Get away from me . . .”

Forrest’s expression looked as shattered as she felt. There was no loyalty where Pippa was concerned, and he had proven that to her tonight.

The roar from the doorway crashed into the stunned silence between them. Jake charged Forrest, having come out of nowhere, apparently finished—or not having left yet—for whatever mission he’d been on to pursue the departing Patty.

Pippa stumbled away from the men, and the moment she heard the first shriek of a woman when Forrest and Jake toppled into the ballroom, she ran. More screams. Men hollering at the clamor as Jake and Forrest collided with the refreshment table. Goblets collapsed from their pyramid and shattered into pieces on the floor.

Georgiana Farnsworth froze in mid-stride with a sign she had just hoisted to cause problems of her own: End the Circus, End the Abuse.

Franny clutched her aunt Victoria Ripley’s arm, and they both held a free hand over their gaping mouths in horror at the spectacle.

Pippa ran. Or at least as much of a run as she could muster, with her leg throbbing and her feet unsteady. She pushed through the chaos and elbowed her way past men who stood like statues, frozen in awe at the sheer glory that was Jake Chapman, scrappy ring fighter.

She sucked in a sob as she rounded the corner into the entryway. Pippa’s flight was cut off by the abrupt slam into the body of Richard Ripley. He grappled for her, saving her from falling into a disgraced pile of silk and deformity.

A word. Any word of empathy, compassion, or even a bewildered question would have made Pippa pause. Instead, she saw the emptiness in his eyes.

“I . . .” Pippa couldn’t even mutter her apology. She wasn’t sorry. Or was she? Confusion and desperation saturated every ounce of her. She righted herself, and he stepped away. “Father, I . . .” She searched his face for something, anything, but could see he was done with her.

Pippa limped toward the door, one step for every tear that trailed down her cheeks. She burst onto the front steps. No longer did the pleasant, inviting sounds of musical strings reach her ears. Instead it was the clamor of men and women, the sound of glass shattering, as if the entire ball had broken into an all-out brawl.

There was only one place left she could run. Only one place that held even the slightest hope of bringing light into the chaos. It echoed in Pippa’s heart, over and over again. Three words. One promise.

I love you.

She would find him tonight. She would search for the Watchman, tell him she understood his pain, and see her birth father’s face for the first time. She would believe in him, like no one had believed in her. Believe that he wasn’t the man Jake sought. Believe that he’d been misjudged and mistreated just as she had always been. Perhaps she was being foolish. Rushing headlong into danger. Unwise and even stupid. But there was nothing left to hold her back. Nothing but the brawling elephant trainer who had vowed to enact justice on the very man Pippa wished to find salvation from.

The shadows of the train depot drew Pippa as she made her way toward the circus grounds. Maybe she could see Patty just one more time. Infuse herself with the contagious enthusiasm Patty possessed for believing that life could be better. She passed the hotel where the circus staff lived and slept. It was quiet. A few windows were lit, maybe Clive’s, maybe Benard’s . . . definitely not Jake’s.

A train whistled in the distance. The stars stared down but didn’t twinkle. They were afraid to look, to watch from their perch in the sky and see the drama unfolding beneath. At least that was what skittered through Pippa’s mind as she took note of them.

The river cut through the circus grounds, its sparkling water reflecting the moon. The tent that had collapsed left an empty void on the skyline, but the row of animal buildings was there. Lily was there. Slowly strengthening, slowly regaining her health. It was a strange paradigm, the ruined tent and the renewal of Lily. Like darkness warring with light, despair with hope. What was the circus really but a façade for them all? A pretend place of wonder when behind its beautiful and celebratory cover were hurting hearts, broken people, and wanderers who had nowhere else to go.

The whistle sounded in the distance again, only this time nearer.

Pippa limped forward. A thud from inside the costume house snagged her attention. Down the row of animal houses was the answering ice-sharp chirrup of a peacock.

Then she heard a shuffling from the far corner of the costume house. “Hello?” Pippa craned her neck to peer into the darkness. “Is someone there?”

Silence.

Pippa tiptoed into the shadows, each step hesitant, each accompanied by misgivings.

“He took my sister—strangled breath from Bridgette—and she wasn’t the only one.”

Another footstep into the blackness of the night drowned out the memory of Jake’s recounting of his sister’s murder.

“If it weren’t for Jake, I’d be a mess. He was there for me when—well, when others weren’t.”

Another footstep, the echoes of Patty’s musings only solidifying the potential of Jake’s credibility and claim that the Watchman was not who Pippa hoped he was.

“Remember, what to us seem like God’s biggest errors, to Him they are His largest promises.”

She stumbled, and Pippa palmed the porch rail of the costume house to catch herself. Clive’s voice filled her thoughts, and the faith he held that she never truly understood.

The river that cut through the grounds filled the void as its waters hummed a melancholy tune, rippling over rocks and debris in its path. She stepped onto the bottom porch step of the house.

Another shuffling sound.

Pippa whirled around as if someone stood behind her. No one. She rubbed her bare arms, conscious of the fact she wore neither cape nor shawl. The chill of the night emphasized her growing unease. The grounds were so empty tonight.

“There are things you shouldn’t know.”

Forrest.

“I love you.”

The Watchman.

She should go home.

“You came.” The words ripped through her as they were delivered behind her left ear.

Pippa started and jerked around. She stared into the gaping black holes of the hood. Eyes blinked in the caverns, but she could see nothing else.

She stumbled back, her heel hitting the step, and her left foot lifting to balance on the step above it. Her height on the stairs made her almost eye to eye with him.

The Watchman stood silent. Trousers, plain shirt, hands at his sides. No definable features, and the burlap sack that doubled as a hood was tied around his throat with a red bandanna.

“Did you find it?” he asked. His voice was muffled by the hood.

Pippa couldn’t find her voice. It was far more terrifying separated by only a few feet. She nodded. Yes, she had found the zebra toy. But its message of love was perverted by the sinister appearance of the hooded man up close.

She moved up another step, and he held up a hand. “Don’t be frightened! I’ve waited—for an eternity for you to know.”

“H-how did you know I was here?” Pippa searched to identify him by his voice, his stance, anything. There were vague recollections of having heard his voice before, but she couldn’t place it.

The Watchman tipped his head to the side as if the answer was obvious. “I’ve always watched you. Since you were born. Since I left the zebra with you as a baby so you would know.” He took a half step forward. “You were always meant for me. I’ve watched over you, just as I promised your mother.”

Visions of the joy in reuniting with her birth father were becoming clouded with uneasiness. Pippa retreated another step.

The Watchman followed. “I was hasty to meet you here the night Lily was hurt.”

He knew of Lily. He was no stranger to the circus.

“I realized after, when I saw you with them—with those men. I needed to know you understood how I felt before we met. I needed to know you felt the same way about me. That you loved me too.”

Pippa bit at her fingernail.

“Do you?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around the stair railing.

Pippa’s feet found the porch floor. “Do I what?” she whispered.

“Love me,” he replied simply.

She tried to see through his hood, to see if there was any hint of emotion in his eyes, but they were empty. It was night. He was hidden.

“Women are fickle, you know. And they are liars.” He tilted his head, assessing her. “All these years, you—you’ve been honest. Vulnerable.”

“The letters.” Pippa could see the box of them on her desk at home. Short missives. Cryptic. About his undying devotion. Explanation of his shame.

He lifted a hand to touch her, then hesitated. “I’ve waited. Those letters were the beginning of meeting you again. The zebra toy was my promise to you when you were yet a baby that I would be back.”

“Who are you?” A cold gust penetrated the silk of her dress and swept across the exposed skin of her neckline and arms.

She could see his eyes blink behind the shroud.

“You don’t know?”

Pippa shook her head. “I don’t know you.”

The Watchman stiffened. He was visibly stunned. “I thought you would understand when you saw the toy.”

Pippa grappled to hold on to something, to steady her shaking legs. But there was nothing except empty porch covered in darkness. The answering silence was taut with the Watchman’s obvious torment. He stepped to the side, then back, his shoes clomping on the step. He wrung his hands, and his knuckles popped.

“All these years? The letters? I held you as a baby. Your mother—she was like my own. She took me in when no one else would. And she made me promise—promise that I would watch over you. And I have.”

Yes. He had. But not in the way she imagined a father would. Her hopes collapsed with the realization. The stunning power of the fact that his body was erect, lithe, and young. His voice that of a man’s minus the quivering of age. He was not her father. He was not what Pippa had conjured in her dreams—a lost guardian who merely wished to reunite with her, to claim parentage, to finally bring her home to the circus.

Pippa looked up the street. It was empty. Dark. Even the animals had grown silent. The only sound was the rippling water of the river. Jake’s story of the Watchman and Bridgette seemed more real now. More plausible. Her own foolishness stark in the context of the moment.

The Watchman’s breath sounded hollow. “When your mother died, they tossed you aside, just like they did me.”

“Like they did you?” Dread continued to grow inside her.

The Watchman’s voice was sharp. That voice. She knew it, but she couldn’t identify it.

“I tried,” he went on, an undertone of desperation in his words. “I tried to love someone else, but they—they only lied to me. It was you, Pippa. It’s always been you.”

The need in the Watchman’s voice had lowered the tone a notch. Threatening.

Pippa didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She reached behind her. Fumbling, her fingers finally meeting up with the cold handle of the costume house screen door.

“Don’t you love me?” the Watchman repeated, tilting his head to the left as if seeking to read her soul.

Pippa swallowed. No. He wasn’t her father. He wasn’t anybody but a lost boy in a grown man’s body who was obsessed with knowing her. Her insides chilled. He had stalked her, for years, and she had opened her heart to him—to the man she thought was someone else entirely.

“No.” The whispered word of rejection escaped her mouth.

The Watchman’s hands shot out, and he yanked her to himself. “Don’t tell me that!” He shook her.

Pippa’s cry for help clung to her lips as she was swallowed up by the black voids in his hood. She lost her grip on the screen door and it banged back against its frame. Pippa twisted. She had to break free.

“Why are you doing this?”

The Watchman dragged her back until she was pressed against his chest. In quick steps, he pushed her face forward against the rough screen of the door, its frame digging into her waist. “You’ve always been mine. Your mother gave you to me, not to be left on the Ripleys’ doorstep!”

His hand crawled up to her throat. He shoved her into the door. “Patty—she wasn’t you. Not my Pippa.”

Nausea roiled in Pippa’s stomach. Patty! Had she survived an assault herself? Had she hidden the horrible secret behind her smile, her cigarettes, and her rough faith?

The Watchman’s fingers spread across her cheek. His breath was hot in her face. Chilling eyes, almost shimmering, stared out from their tombs.

“Please, let me go.” Pippa struggled against his hold, but he was too strong.

The Watchman’s mouth pushed against her ear, separated only by the shroud over his head. Its rough burlap scratched her face. “I was going to take care of you. But I can’t. Not if you don’t love me.”

He dragged her with him as he whipped open the screen door. The scream that tore from her throat was loud enough to awaken the elephants. Pippa struggled to break his hold on her. A trumpet sounded. Please. Make noise. Awaken someone. Ernie. Anyone. But what if this was Ernie?

Pippa clawed at the mask.

He slapped her away. His hands bruised her as he manhandled her against him. The Watchman twisted the doorknob and flung open the costume house door. He forced Pippa in front of him and then spun her so she faced the inside.

“We were meant to be together. She lied to me. She didn’t tell me about the baby.” The Watchman crooned into her ear with the devotion of an obsessed and jilted lover.

“Who? What baby?”

His words sickened her, as did his intent as he shoved her into the blackness of the costume house. “Say you’re mine, Pippa. Say it.” His breath was hot in her ear.

“I-I can’t.” Her fingernails dug into his arms, clawing, scratching, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He pushed her farther into the room. Pippa tripped on her bad leg and fell to the floor, her knees connecting hard with the floorboards.

The Watchman straddled her, his hands closing around her throat. Squeezing. She clawed at them. Breathe. She needed to breathe.

“Say you’re mine,” he insisted, then lifted her head and banged it back against the floor.

As blackness drifted over her vision, Pippa looked up. She saw bare feet hanging above her. Swaying. Like a silent dance with death. A limp hand dangled, and Pippa heard the creak of a rope as the body swayed. Then she recognized it.

Patty.

Patty hung above her, dead, her head tilted above the noose of a rope. Just shy of meeting her train, of finding new hope.

Pippa’s scream gargled in her throat as the Watchman’s hands dug into her larynx. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement behind him, and a small body leapt from the ground, launching toward the Watchman. The stature was unmistakable, his expression one of fierce protection and determination. His chance of survival against the brute who straddled her, improbable.

“Clive.” Pippa’s gasp was choked. “No!”