No, she was done with all that. It was time to embrace who she was—the Last Lady of the Secret Circus.
“I don’t know if this is going to work, Teddy.” Lara stared ahead at the field, empty as usual. She could hear his breath as he stood in lockstep beside her.
“When you were gone in Paris,” said Teddy, “Ben said that all we had to do was get him near you and he’d find you.”
Lara smiled. If she ended up stuck on the other side, she hoped that Ben would forgive her. He knew her well enough to have suspected that she would do exactly this—and he’d be mad at her, but he knew her better than anyone. “Well, he may have to come and find me all over again. Gaston, too.”
“That’s quite a love, Lara.” He looked back at the farmhouse. “Are you sure?”
“It’s because of that love, Teddy. I won’t be half a person anymore. No one can love that for long. He deserves the best version of me. And I’m going to try to give him that.”
Focusing on the clover, she held the dried sprig in her two fingers, emotion welling up inside her.
“I can’t promise that we’ll come back. You know that.”
“I know,” said Teddy, his voice low. “I’ve said my goodbyes.”
“I also can’t promise what he’ll do to us when we get there. You may be selling your soul.”
“I agree to the terms,” said Teddy, staring out at the empty field, his chin raised. “Le Cirque Secret has called to me, Lara. Just as it called to you.”
She smiled. She’d known what his answer would be. Anything for the scholarship.
“Well, you always wanted a ticket,” said Lara with a chuckle. “Now we just might crash this damned circus.”
Oddjob groaned. The animal looked up at her, along with his twin, Moneypenny. The hellhounds’ expressive eyes bored through her. Teddy held on to their leashes tightly. Once this thing started, she hoped they’d function like magical battery packs. They were hellhounds, after all. They knew the way home—more important, they always knew the way to Audrey.
She took Barrow’s hand and gripped it tightly. Spinning the clover in her other hand, she hummed “Escalator.” She wasn’t much for spells; she was a creature of music, and it seemed that songs could pull the other side through for her. As she twirled the flower, she thought of the carousel, of the aqua walls and dark-gold chandeliers along the Grand Promenade. How much she’d longed to see it again, to look out at the hedges and the clowns having tea. It was the most magnificent, otherworldly place she’d ever seen. The images tugged at her like a curiosity that was hardwired inside her, a haunting child’s story that couldn’t be forgotten. She knew that now—that she’d always be searching for it in other places. Was she homesick for it? Homesick. She thought of her mother. She was done being defined by absences. I won’t live without you any longer. So lost in her thoughts and spinning the flower that she almost didn’t hear Teddy.
“Oh my God, Lara. You should see it.” His voice broke, but he held on to her hand tightly. “It’s stunning. I never imagined… I never imagined it would look like this.”
She opened her eyes to see what she already knew was there—the carousel at Le Cirque Secret. Only instead of pulling it through into her realm, she had another plan.
Lara pulled Teddy forward with her and the hounds onto the carousel’s platform. As her leg brushed past the stallion, the horse flicked its tail. Beyond the platform, she spied the magnificent Grand Promenade with its gilded walls. The sun shone down through it, and she knew out each window she’d find an elaborate maze or hedge. Just then Lara thought she could see the outlines of that familiar butter-colored bob running toward them. Was that an aqua feathered headdress she was wearing? The thought of it made Lara smile.
“Oh, Teddy,” she said, sighing. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Acknowledgments
I’m still in awe of the magic that goes into making a novel, and I’m quite fortunate to be surrounded by such a magnificent team. I want to thank my brilliant editor, Nivia Evans, for shepherding this book in the midst of a pandemic. Early on, she helped shape it and see its potential. I’m so grateful for the entire Redhook team: Ellen Wright, who is such a lifeline to us writers as these books make their way out in the world; Lisa Marie Pompilio, who has designed yet another hauntingly beautiful cover; and Bryn A. McDonald, who is the grammatic voice in my head and the author of the thoughtful comments in my margins. I always know I’m in good hands with her team’s suggestions, especially Laura Jorstad’s brilliant repair of my French language butchery.
The early version of this story in particular was championed by my agent, Roz Foster. I will be forever in her debt for seeing something special in my writing, and I am so fortunate to have her by my side in this fantastic journey. I’m so appreciative of the support of both the Frances Goldin Literary Agency and the extraordinary team at Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency, including Andrea Cavallaro and Jennifer
