Sorry again for the wait. This really is the busiest time of year for me. Once again, I've written two chapters, so the next will follow shortly. Send me some words.

Chapter 14

"So...what did the doctor say?"

Phillip was trying to choose his words carefully. He knew Anne's appointment that morning had been heavy on her mind for the past week. Now, after she'd returned home from the appointment, the two of them were having lunch in their apartment, and Anne was only picking at her food.

She gave him a tiny smile. "He said everything looks normal. He can't see any reason why we shouldn't have a child."

Phillip felt a weight lift. "That's good, isn't it?"

Anne sighed. "Yes. And no. It just means he has no idea what's keeping me from getting pregnant. It means there's nothing to fix."

Phillip started to take another bite, when he saw the tears in his wife's eyes. Putting down his fork, he got up and crossed to her side of the table. Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet.

"Anne Wheeler, do you know how much I love you?" He kissed her on the forehead. "I have loved you since the first moment I saw you." He kissed her nose. "It wasn't a crush, or just lust. I just knew you were the one I was meant to find." He kissed her cheek. "And I will love you whether we have twenty children, or no children." Phillip captured her mouth with his.

For a moment, there were no more words. She opened her lips to him, and he deepened the kiss. Their tongues found one another, familiar and yet always erotic. Anne pressed close, her strong body fitting perfectly against his. He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her back, letting his fingers trail over her buttocks. Their apartment was small, so the couch was only a few steps from the round table where they shared meals. Anne pushed him back towards it. Her hands, strong and limber from holding the trapeze, made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. She cast it away and pushed him down onto the sofa. Dropping her house dress to the floor, she had his pants undone and his body exposed before he could argue.

Not that Phillip would have argued. He meant what he'd said before. Anne had cast a spell the first time he saw her on the trapeze, and he was always powerless to say no to her. That powerlessness led to moments like this, where he found himself on the sofa, pants undone, with Anne on top of him at just after noon on a Friday. She moved beautifully, head thrown back, her eyes closed.

Suddenly, she leaned in and captured his mouth again. Then, she worked her lips down his throat, nipping at the sensitive skin in a way he was sure would leave a mark. Her fingernails dug into his bare shoulders and she made soft sounds that were so familiar and yet so erotic he almost lost control. Sensing his reaction, she drove harder, nipping at his earlobes.

She whispered next to his ear, "I love you, Phillip Carlyle."

"Fuck!" He fell. He fell hard, and he couldn't help but let profanity escape.

Anne held him tightly, her breasts pressed against his bare chest as she whimpered through her own climax. Then, she kissed his mouth again, slowly, thoroughly.

When she pulled back, he said softly, "My god, Anne, I'm sure that this time…"

She cut him off. "Don't say it, Phillip. I'm not getting my hopes up anymore. This isn't about that. I want it to be about just you and me, like it used to be. No pressure. So...hold me for a bit? Please?"

He pulled her close, skin on skin, and kissed her shoulder. In a world that often felt like it was spinning around him, in a career that felt like a circus even outside the ring, Anne was his rock. She was the surest thing he had, so he crushed her to himself, eternally grateful for the certainty of her. And, for a moment, everything was still.

The following Sunday, a clear yet frigid day, Charity sat in the stands in the circus tent. She and the girls came from church, so they were all dressed in their best winter dresses. They came to collect Ema for lunch, so she wouldn't have to walk to the Barnums' place in the cold.

After much persuasion, Phinn had agreed to meet the new Ringmaster. Charity had decided that, as much as she wanted Phinn to see Ema in action, as much as she felt that would win him over, she was also worried it might be too much for him. The old Phinn would have been delighted by someone so out of the box. However, Charity wasn't sure what the man she now lived with would do or say. It was also logistically still impossible to get Phinn to the circus, so she had decided it would be best to bring Ema to him. If they could make peace between them, and if she could assure Phillip that his partner approved of Ema, they would all be better prepared to face their real enemy—the Board of Trade.

When they arrived at the tent, Ema was dressed in trousers and a loose blouse, which she had tied at her waist. She wore her performance shoes and she was walking through choreography with Lara and Mara. Lara, true to form, was dressed similarly to Ema. Mara had on a flowing, lilac dress that she picked up to keep from tripping as she moved through the steps. Lettie was sitting in the stands opposite Charity, pretending to read a book. Charity could tell her focus was on Ema, however, because she occasionally rolled her eyes over the edge of her book.

Caroline immediately took off into the ring when they arrived and begged Ema to let her go through the choreography. Helen sat down a few feet away from her mother and pulled a drawing pad from her satchel. It was already full of sketches of the circus, each of them capturing the movement and life of the show. Now, she added more, smudging her face with charcoal as she worked.

"Helen," Charity stated after about twenty minutes, "you've got charcoal on your dress."

Without looking up, Helen returned, "Caroline has tied up the skirt on her new dress."

Charity's head snapped toward the center ring, and Helen was right. Caroline had tied up her satin skirt, including the crinoline, with the sash of her dress so she could dance more easily.

Charity started to call out to her daughter to preserve the fabric, but her eyes moved to the expression of sheer joy on Caroline's face. She remembered spitting tea all over her new dress when Phinn had made her laugh. She remembered all the dresses she'd drug through the sand, all the puddles she and Phinn had splashed in while wearing her newest clothes. She couldn't remember the dresses, but she remembered the moments. She remembered Phinn's eyes, the way the sand felt between her toes and the way he'd held her hand. So she said nothing, and let her daughter dance.

"Mother!" Caroline called out after another few minutes. "Watch this!"

Ema and Caroline walked through the Ringmaster choreography from the opening of the show, and even Charity was impressed at her daughter's musicality. She looked a foot taller in the ring, wearing what must be Phillip's hat. She flipped the Ringmaster cane around her arm, caught it, and posed with finesse. Charity clapped along with Lara and Mara, and Helen kept drawing.

Lettie looked up from her book and said, "You're missing a beat, in the middle. There's three, for the lights, and you're missing one."

Ema turned, and Charity wasn't sure whether she was going to laugh or scream. Taking a measured pause, Ema called out, "Well, if you would show me, I could fix it."

"Why should I show you?" Lettie called back. "Everyone already loves you."

Charity didn't miss the snark in Lettie's voice.

"Come on, Lettie! You've been here since the beginning! You know this better than anyone! Show me!"

Charity looked back and forth between them. Phillip had mentioned that, since making them roommates, the two women had been at odds with each other. She couldn't imagine Lettie holding a grudge this long. She hadn't even managed to stay mad at Phinn for a solid week after the first circus burned down. And Ema was tough as nails in front of a crowd, but the more Charity got to know her, the more she found her to be very giving and quick to forgive. She couldn't imagine what they were continuing to fight about, unless both of them had simply never learned to share their personal space with someone else. Charity remembered when Caroline and Helen used to share a room, and how they bickered over the smallest things. She decided the animosity must be due to close quarters and nothing more.

"Everyone already loves you, Ema!" Lettie closed her book and stood to leave. "You don't need my help."

"Lettie!" Ema called after her.

As Lettie walked away, Caroline went through the steps again. This time, most likely by drawing on a memories of watching her father from the beginning, she hit the beat Lettie had mentioned. Then, she threw open her arms and sang, "So tell me do you wanna go?"

Her voice echoed through the space, no longer the soft soprano of a child, but the belt of a woman. The argument was forgotten as all of them stopped and watched Caroline sing. When she realized they were all watching, she fell silent.

"That was pretty damn good," Ema said with a smile.

"Ema! Language!" Charity called out.

"She's right though," Helen spoke up. "That was pretty damn good."

Charity turned to see her younger daughter still drawing, but with a very Phinn-like smirk on her face. Ema covered her mouth to conceal laughter, and Charity couldn't helping chuckling herself.

"I suppose this is what I get, for raising you around all these misfits." Charity smiled at the others, so they would know she wasn't really upset. It was, after all, the life she chose. "Now come on. Betsy will have lunch soon and we'll be late."

It was a short carriage ride to the Barnum's apartment from the circus tent. Once there, Ema ran her hands through her thick hair, trying to tame the curls. She had part of it tied back, while the rest tumbled down her back. She still wore the trousers and blouse, although she'd traded her performance shoes for more sensible boots. Charity saw no reason to dress Ema up like a society girl. There was no sense in pretending Ema was something she wasn't. Better for Phinn to know exactly who was stepping into the spotlight every night.

When they came through the front door, Charity was surprised to find Phinn fully dressed and sitting in the living room. On the outside, he looked better than he had in months. Save for the crutches lying to the side of the chair, she could have sworn he was in top condition. His clothes concealed that he was thinner and hid all the scars. Caroline and Helen immediately noticed as well, and they ran to him with stories about church and the circus. Charity hoped Betsy had helped her husband get to where he now sat, but the realist in her was sure Phinn had struggled from the bedroom by himself.

After the girls had finished chattering, Charity shooed them into the dining room. Then she turned back to Ema and Phinn. Ema had been very quiet since they arrived, which was unusual for her. Looking her over, Charity could tell Ema was a bit starstruck. As good as she was on her own, Charity had nearly forgotten that Ema had gotten that way by watching Phinn for a year. She had stepped into the shoes of someone she idolized, but had never met in person.

Charity took a deep breath and said, "Ema, this is P.T. Barnum. Phinn, this is Ema Semanovka."

They stared each other down.

"Where do you come from, Ema?" Phinn spoke first.

She raised her chin. "Here. New York City. I was left on the doorstep of a Ukrainian family just after I was born."

"Really?" Phinn looked genuinely interested.

Ema nodded. With a smirk, she added, "Most people who don't want their babies leave them on the doorsteps of rich people. But not my mother. Guaranteed poverty for me. Every parent's dream."

Phinn studied her, his expression only slightly taken aback at her brazen description of her beginnings.

"It's okay, though." Ema waved off any pity she might receive. "They're good people. The ones who raised me."

Phinn continued to hold her in his studious gaze as he said, "We don't choose where we come from, do we?"

Charity watched their interaction carefully. Phinn was much calmer than she'd expected. He had made the same connection she had made when she first met Ema. They were similar in more ways than just a love of performing. Charity let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. If her husband could see that Ema came from a similar place, then maybe he could stop seeing her performances as taking from him, but adding to what he'd created.

Nodding her head in solidarity, Ema said, "It's an honor to finally meet you, Mr. Barnum."

Charity could tell she meant it.

Betsy came into the room and said, "Lunch is ready."

Phinn started to rise from the chair, and Charity rushed to help him.

He gently held her back. "I can do this."

"Phinn…" She started to argue.

He reached for the crutches and, leaning on them, hoisted himself from the chair. He stood for a moment, breathing through pain, and then struggled to step forward. He stumbled, and Charity caught him. She held on, steadying him with her arm around his torso, and she felt a sudden, unexpected ache in her soul. She missed him. She missed holding him. She missed the two of them leaning on each other, walking through things together. For a moment, she held him and breathed in his scent, and wished he would let her help.

Pulling away, he steadied himself and said, "I can do it."

Charity stepped back and glanced at Ema. She could see sad disbelief in the younger woman's eyes. In the space of just a few minutes, she'd met her hero and subsequently seen how broken he was. Even seeing him fall hadn't prepared her for this. Looking at Ema, Charity understood better why Phinn didn't want visitors, why he seemed both determined to be back in the ring and yet reluctant to visit the circus and see Ema in action. She couldn't imagine a tent full of people looking at her husband, the great P.T. Barnum, with pity and sad resolve that his career was over. It made the ache in her chest more pronounced, and Charity took a deep breath.

Motioning to Ema, she said, "Come on."

They walked slowly to the dining room while Phinn struggled with the crutches.

The meal was much more civil than Charity expected. Betsy made roast beef and potatoes, a staple of hers, as she came from the English west country. Betsy dined with them, because Charity had insisted, upon employing her, that she would not be treated like a servant. She was a member of the family, with her own room, who simply happened to draw her income from household chores.

As they ate, Phinn asked Ema how she had found the circus, and Ema recounted the story of buying her first ticket with her meager wages working in a laundry.

"I found Lettie in the laundry," Phinn added between bites as he listened.

Ema's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Really? She won't tell me anything about herself. She just yells at me for leaving the lamps burning at all hours."

Phinn chuckled. "That sounds like Lettie. She's a mother hen with no chicks."

Ema laughed. "Lettie? It's hard to imagine her mothering anything."

Phinn tipped his head, "It's a tough love. She held that first group of performers together when I couldn't. When Phillip wasn't ready. And she'll tell you what you need to hear, when you need to hear it, whether you like it or not."

Ema sobered as she considered his words.

Again, Charity watched them. Caroline and Helen watched them, and there was a timid, unspoken truce as both Ringmasters peeled back each others layers, exposed the flaws, and considered co-existence.

After lunch, when Ema had gone, Charity helped Betsy clear the table and sent the girls out into the garden behind their building to occupy themselves. When she returned, she found Phinn in their bedroom again, sitting in the chair by the window. He'd shed his coat and tie from lunch and he stared out the window once again.

Before Charity could speak, he said, "I see why Phillip picked her."

From behind him, Charity said, "I don't think he picked her, so much as she was the only choice."

"Well, she came at the right time," Phinn replied with quiet resolve.

After a beat, Charity asked carefully, "Would you consider coming to see her, then?"

With his focus still out the window, he nodded and said flatly. "I suppose. If I ever leave this apartment again."

Something in his acceptance of Ema rang hollow for Charity. She didn't feel peace. What she sensed was emptiness. She'd hoped he would accept Ema as part of the team, but this acceptance was more like resolution. And somehow, resolution was worse than anger.

At the Sunday night performance, Phillip stood backstage, waiting to go on. He could hear the thrum of voices behind him as performers prepared for their acts. He drew in the scent of the heavy curtains and the sawdust. Light from the bright lamps flooded through the cracks in the curtains and Phillip felt a familiar rush of adrenaline. He did love this, even though performing wasn't something he'd ever considered until P.T. came into his life. Now, with Ema to share the burden, he was starting to love it again.

"Oh for the love of Saint Christian!"

Phillip turned at Lettie's outburst. She sat to his left, at a table with a mirror and bright lamps for applying makeup. She dropped a pot of lip color and a brush in frustration.

"What is it?" He asked while checking his pocket watch.

"She uses all my stuff!" Lettie exploded. "When she can't find her stuff, she uses mine! All the time!"

"Who?"

"Ema!" Lettie stood from the table. "There has to be somewhere else she can go, Phillip!"

He shook his head. "Right now, no there isn't."

Fuming, Lettie approached him and said, "You should've asked me first! I would never show up, in the middle of the night, at your house, and make you live with someone!"

Trying to calm her, he returned, "But if you brought me someone homeless, I would like to think that I would…"

"Do you know what she is?" Lettie cut him off.

Taken aback, Phillip asked, "What?"

Stepping in close, Lettie whispered sharply, "She's a sapphist!"

Phillip stepped back. He'd worked long enough as a playwright amongst the artists and opera singers to know what she meant.

"How you can you be sure?"

"It's not a secret, Phillip. She told me."

Phillip was stunned, and he wasn't sure why. He was used to being around people who didn't conform to society. Ema had already broken so many rules, he wasn't sure why he was even surprised. Perhaps he was more surprised that she had admitted it to Lettie.

Lettie stepped in again. "What's worse? She fancies Charity."

Phillip drew in a sharp breath. Surely that wasn't true. It must be a rumor born out of Lettie's frustration with her roommate. Still, he was shocked that she would make such an accusation. Lettie could be tough, but she was soft on the inside. She was defensive of those she loved, but never intentionally malicious. This was out of character, but he had no time to inquire about it now.

It was showtime.