Summer Magic Page 4

  "I think so, too," Estelle answered sleepily.

  *****

  Lisa awoke the next morning to the melodic sound of her cell phone. What? Seven already? Bolting out of bed, she squinted at the slanting sunlight that streamed in through the trailer window. Estelle had apparently taken Rags with her. The dog was nowhere in sight.

  Lisa rummaged hurriedly through her over-night bag till she'd found the T-shirt and denim jeans she'd rolled up inside. Edward Figaro had told her to report to the veterinarian quarters--a roomy motor home that had been converted into a clinic--no later than eight.

  As she was combing her hair just before pouring herself a bowl of cold cereal, a knock sounded at the door.

  "Coming!" She tossed the comb down and hurried to answer it. Opening the door, peering curiously outside, she spied a middle-aged man with sandy-colored hair and a deeply bronzed tan. In his hand, he clutched a brown grocery bag.

  "'Mornin!"

  "Good morning to you!"

  "You Lisa Prentice?" he asked, squinting up at her.

  "Yes!" She could hear the surprise in her voice. How did he know her when was still a stranger to almost everyone here at Jessell and Stern?

  "Pete Morehouse," he said. "I'm a rigger."

  "Hello, Pete. How may I help you?" She glanced discreetly at her watch, hoping he'd be brief, but at the same not wanting to appear rude. Last thing she needed was to show up late for work, especially on her first day.

  "Claudette asked me to give this to you," he said, shoving the bag into her hands. "She said you'd be expectin' it."

  "Why, yes! Thanks!" She was certain now her surprise showed even more. So Claudette had come through with the extra clothing...Maybe Michael's twin was sincere in wanting to help her after all.

  In a flash, the man had left. Eagerly Lisa began emptying the contents of the bag onto the couch. But as the last piece of clothing tumbled out into a heap, Lisa's optimism quickly soured. She held up the first item. Yard upon yard of fabric, its color a putrid green, emerged before her eyes. She wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, but it looked like a blouse--at least ten sizes too big! What was this? she wondered with growing disgust. Did Claudette get this stuff from clown alley? Was this some kind of a joke?

  She yanked at the next article of clothing--a pair of jeans so badly grass-stained and smudged with ground-in dirt, there was no hope of ever salvaging them. Most insulting of all, they looked as if they would fit one of the elephants!

  Her face burned with anger. She wadded up the clothes and threw them onto the floor. "I can't believe it!" she sputtered out loud. "How can Claudette be related to Michael? His twin, no less!"

  Blinking back tears, she spun around and headed for the door. She couldn't let anything interfere with her first assignment with Dr. Woodstock. Not even a nightmare like this!

  But as she hurried across the lot, her anger mounted. She felt as if Claudette had doused her with a bucket of icy water. And a little voice deep inside of her warned that this was probably only the beginning...

  Chapter Four

  "Where’s Dr. Woodstock?" Lisa asked a young, dark-skinned teenager as she poked her head into the veterinarian clinic. "I'm Lisa Prentice, his new assistant. He's meeting me here at eight." She still bristled in the wake of Claudette's cruel trick, but was determined to put her feelings aside--for the time being, at least. She was embarking on a new job. A new purpose. She mustn't let anything distract her.

  "Hi. I'm Raphael. I help out where ever I'm needed." The boy, who was unloading the contents from a large cardboard box, looked up and offered a shy smile. Slender, with shiny dark hair that touched his collar, he appeared to be about fifteen. "Doc Woodstock is back at the arena," he continued. "He got called away to see what's wrong with Sudan."

  "Sudan?"

  "Yeah. One of the giraffes." He pierced through the thick packaging tape with his pocket knife and explained. "When it's raining hard like this, we try to find inside space for the animals. Go to the south door of the arena. That'll take you right to them."

  "Oh...all right. Thanks, Raphael."

  She hurried back, following the boy's directions. The rain pattered. Side-stepping a puddle, she tugged at the hood of her windbreaker as a single rain drop slid down her cheek. She could feel her head throb with anxious anticipation. What would the day bring?

  At last she found Dr. Woodstock, examining the giraffe under the uppermost section of bleachers.

  "Good morning, Dr. Woodstock."

  He cast her a quick glance and grunted. "Mornin'. About time you got here."

  She squared her shoulders, willing herself to remain calm. Couldn't he at least say something like, "Nice to see you again," or even "Welcome aboard?""I reported to the veterinarian headquarters at eight," she told him. "Just as we'd planned."

  "Fine. I told Raphael to keep an eye out for you. But you'll soon discover, Miss Prentice, nothing around here goes according to plan."

  "Yes, sir."

  She trained her attention onto Sudan. The giraffe, who stared down at her with dark round eyes, was wedged into a large metal framework.

  The veterinarian probed the animal's knee joint, manipulating it gently. "The swelling's getting worse," he muttered. "I think we'd better get a picture as soon as possible."

  Fascinated, momentarily forgetting her previous uneasiness, she kept her gaze fixed on the giraffe and the strange-looking cage. She'd never seen anything like it before.

  "What is that?" she asked, pointing.

  "It's called a squeeze cage. The sides are built on runners so they can be brought together to hold a critter in place while I work on 'im."

  Nodding, she reached out impulsively to stroke the giraffe's side. Sudan gave a start.

  "Miss Prentice! You never, ever startle a sick animal!" he bellowed. "You, of all people, should know better than that!"

  "Sorry!" Her stomach flip-flopped. She felt her muscles grow tense. My first day on the job, and already I'm getting off to a bad start.

  The giraffe bobbed his head and turned to look at her again. He was so beautiful. Lisa hadn't meant to frighten him. She only wanted to touch him. But Dr. Woodstock was right. She might be inexperienced when it came to the circus, but she understood enough about most animals to have known better.

  "Go to the clinic and get the portable x-ray," he said. His voice softened some. "You should find it on the bottom shelf at the far end of the trailer. And don't waste any time."

  She nodded, hoping his x-ray unit appeared similar to Doc Largent's and she would recognize it right away. "I'll hurry," she promised him.

  On her way, Lisa caught a glimpse of Michael, Claudette and Estelle striding towards the main auditorium for an early morning practice. The sounds of their talking and laughter drifted her way. For a moment, she longed to be with Michael, too, instead of trying to please an already disagreeable Dr. Woodstock.

  Had Michael noticed her? she wondered. If so, he'd given no indication. And what about Claudette? Had she told the others about her "special delivery?" Hopefully that's not what they had been laughing about.

  Pausing briefly, she watched them disappear through the large double doors into the back of the auditorium. She exhaled a wistful sigh.

  When she returned with the x-ray equipment a few minutes later, Dr. Woodstock's eyebrows were raised. "Well, you didn't waste a minute finding it, now did you?" His voice held a hint of surprise.

  "No, sir." Actually, Raphael had still been there and helped her.

  She handed over first the rectangular cassette that held the film, then the x-ray unit that snapped the pictures. The x-ray had a cone on the top and two handles to help carry it. Without a word, he passed her the electrical cord. She struggled to plug it into the end of the extension cord snaked across the arena floor, but couldn't get it to fit. She kept trying, fighting back her escalating frustration. Still no luck.

  "Easy," he cautioned. "Do you want to break the connection?"

  "I don't un
derstand it. Something must be bent," she stammered. She pushed the plug again. This time--what a relief--it worked!

  "One of the show horses has a sinus infection," he continued evenly. "When we're done with Sudan, we must go take a look at her. Hoshi, a stable boy, told me she's not responding to the antibiotics I've given her." He positioned the cassette behind the giraffe's leg and prepared to take the first picture.

  "Doc Largent always says when nothing else works, a good shot of whiskey will do the trick," she put in. She wasn't sure how receptive he'd be to Doc's old-time remedies, but figured anyway it was worth a try.

  Dr. Woodstock's gaze hardened. "Thank you, Miss Prentice. But if you don't mind, I'll abide by more conventional modes of treatment."

  Lisa broke out into a cold sweat. She wanted to crawl off and disappear somewhere. Anywhere. Even a squeeze cage would do.

  "I hope you plan to watch me carefully and listen to everything I tell you." The veterinarian's voice pulled her back. "I don't like to waste time repeating myself." He stood back to snap the second picture, this time a side view.

  "Yes, of course," she answered, tipping her chin. "And as for the horses, I'm already quite comfortable around them, you may remember. I'm so glad to hear how well Ebony's been doing this past year." Surely he hadn't already forgotten about that day back in Madison Square Garden, she thought. But in case he had, it wouldn't hurt to jog his memory a little.

  He grunted again as he moved back from the giraffe. "There's more work here than three of us can handle. Obviously, I can't turn you loose working with the larger animals yet. Even the grown monkeys can be much more cantankerous than most folks realize."

  She nodded agreeably and forced herself to put on a broad smile.

  The rest of the day went much the same as Lisa accompanied Dr. Woodstock from one end of the sprawling circus grounds to the other. They administered pills and injections. They hot-packed draining wounds. They splinted and set at least a half dozen fractures. They took more portable x-rays. The work seemed to go on and on.

  But all the time, no matter how hard she tried, Lisa couldn't seem to please him.

  Late that evening, after the last show had ended, Lisa lingered wearily in the back lot, watching the work crews fly into action. Tomorrow at the crack of dawn, Jessell and Stern would be moving to the next town. Today had been one of the rare times, she'd learned, when they stayed in the same place for two days, not just one.

  As she continued to look on, new fascination eclipsed her fatigue. The flurry of activity was intoxicating! Elephants trumpeted. Men shouted. Already the menagerie tent had been taken down and carted away. Floats, riggings and props were packed and loaded in precise order. The smells of animals mingled with the lingering scent of hot dogs and popcorn.

  "Lisa!"

  She jerked around. In the purple dusk, she saw Michael sauntering towards her. He was wearing a light-colored shirt that was open at the neck, a shiny dark vest and snug-fitting jeans. Her heart leaped at the sight of him.

  "I'm sorry I missed the show tonight," she said.

  "I figured you were busy."

  “Yes, Dr. Woodstock and I worked late. Oh, Michael, I can't begin to tell you about all those poor, sick animals..."

  “I know. Last spring we traveled through some unusually damp weather.” He paused, his eyes roving over her. "So what are you doing? I mean, right now?"

  "Just standing here, taking it all in. I've never seen anything like this. It's incredible."

  He followed her gaze. "Yep. Man and beast working together, never missing a beat," he said philosophically. "It is pretty, amazing, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "So how did you and Doc Woodstock get along today?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. He studied her intently as he waited for her answer.

  "Good, I guess." She shrugged, then laughed nervously. "Actually, not really so good..."

  "Hmm." For a long moment, he held her gaze. "Well, don't let it get you down."

  "I won't," she lied. "I've got big shoulders."

  "Estelle and Claudette are back at the motor home," he continued. "Mom's fixing beef Stroganoff, poppy seed noodles, and green salad. She asked me to tell you you're welcome to come too. Hungry?"

  "Ah...well." She stalled, debating how to answer. "I hate to intrude. Besides, it's awfully late." Apparently Claudette hadn't told him about what she'd done. If she had, Lisa doubted he'd be talking as if they were one big happy family.

  So now what? Her thoughts raced on. Should she tell him herself? No, better not. It might make her sound like a whiner, and that certainly wasn't her style. She'd find her own way of handling this.

  "Don't worry about the time," he insisted. "This is the normal dinner hour for most circus performers." He inclined his head, then broke into a lazy smile. "Actually..." His smile broadened, showing a flash of even white teeth. "Actually, I think I have a better idea."

  "Oh?"

  "Let's go somewhere and grab a pizza instead. Frankly, I'm not much in the mood for beef Stroganoff"

  "Well...all right. But be sure to tell your mother thanks for me. Better yet, I'll tell her myself. First chance I get tomorrow."

  She met his heart-stopping gaze, privately taken back at how quickly she'd agreed to go with him. Still, what would it hurt, this one time? She'd been running herself ragged ever since she'd arrived. She deserved an hour or so to relax. Besides, time like this alone with Michael would undoubtedly be a rarity.

  "Good. So when can you be ready?"

  She glanced down at her dirt-streaked jeans and soiled cotton plaid blouse and wondered when she'd ever find the time to shop for new clothes. "Oh, dear! I didn't realize I'd gotten so filthy. Give me fifteen minutes to change. I'll meet you at Estelle's trailer."

  "You got it. Fifteen minutes it is." He winked, and whistling a tune, sauntered away.

  *****

  Under a star-studded sky, void of further rain, Michael swerved the pickup onto the interstate and headed east. "You look sharp in Estelle's new tank top and jeans," he said. His eyes shone mischievously as he added, "But don't tell her that.” The fleeting glow of a neon light illuminated his face, then faded.

  "Your sister's a lifesaver. You should see all the other stuff she's loaned me. I promised her that the first chance we got to go check out a mall, I'd treat her to anything she wants." Biting her lip, Lisa once again fought the temptation to tell him about Claudette's contribution to her wardrobe.

  Off in the distance, the silhouettes of palm trees contrasted the indigo sky. Overhead, freeway signs caught the glare of their headlight. Rolling down her window, she inhaled deeply. The night air rushed in and tousled her hair. The cool wash against her cheeks felt invigorating.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Estelle told me about a super pizza place she discovered when we were on tour here last year. It's not too far up the freeway."

  She laughed. "If Estelle says it's good, then it's got to be."

  As they drove farther away from the lights of town, the darkness deepened. Against the horizon, the rolling contours of the treeless brown hillsides loomed. The stars grew more dazzling. Thin wisps of clouds scudded by, obscuring a waxing moon, then revealed it again.

  Lisa looked about, drinking in the sights, sounds, and smells. It was so different from anything she’d ever experienced while living on the East coast. Almost like magic, a summer sort of magic. Or was it because she was with Michael her senses seemed so alive, the magic so real?

  "Tired?" he asked.

  "Uh-huh. But I think I'm starting to get my second wind now. And everything here's so incredibly beautiful!" She could smell the tangy fragrance wafting from a nearby orange grove. "Know something, Michael?" Smiling, she looked over at him.

  "What?"

  "I think I'm going to like this. Traveling from coast to coast, I mean. There's a lot of wanderlust inside of me. Surprising, I suppose, when you consider how often I changed locations during my childhood. I lived in six different s
tates in seventeen years."

  "Lisa, there's something--" He broke off.

  "What's wrong, Michael?"

  "Nothing. I...I think I see the pizza place up ahead. Estelle said we couldn't miss the sign." He turned to meet her gaze, but his expression appeared strained.

  Soon they were sitting across from each other, munching slices of Canadian bacon pizza oozing with melted cheese. A small votive candle flickered in the center of the table draped by a red-and-white checkered cloth.

  Scattered about the intimate café were several couples, some young, others older. In a corner booth a group of giggling teenagers waited for their order to arrive.

  Michael leaned forward and reached for Lisa's hand. The flickering candlelight accented the planes and angles of his face. He appeared more handsome than ever.

  For a long while, neither spoke. Then, at last, Michael broke the silence.

  "Lisa..."

  "Yes?"

  He grazed his thumb over her ring finger, studying her intently. "When we were talking earlier...about working with the circus...about the wanderlust and the travel..." He hesitated.

  "Go on. What is it?"

  He glanced furtively about the small room. Not enough privacy, he thought. But I can't put it off any longer. "I'm concerned about you, Lisa. Sometimes I get the feeling you might have an ulterior motive. Like you might be running away."

  Caution washed over her. Once again she regretted how unwisely she'd told him about her engagement to Charles. But it was too late now. She couldn't take it back.

  Shifting her weight, she feigned nonchalance. "Don't be ridiculous, Michael. That's just an old cliché about people running off with the circus. Whatever would make you say a thing like that?" She shifted beneath his steady gaze.

  "The engagement, Lisa. The engagement you said came to an end. Was that why?"

  She lifted one shoulder. "All right. You win. Yes, that was part of it."

  "Can you talk about it? Can you tell me what happened?"

  She shook her head.