Thanks for your patience. I've been in tech week opening a show for the past few days.

I also wanted to share...I fell in a show. That's why it's personal. I had a pulley that was incorrectly weighted fail, and I fell about 17 feet. Broke my heel bone (one of the hardest bones to break) and compressed several vertebra in my lower back. I have never been the same since. Luckily, it wasn't from a higher distance or I might've ended up like Phinn here. Either way, it was a defining moment.

Chapter 9

Over the next few days, the circus performers came in groups of twos and threes to visit their Ringmaster. Lettie was the first and the most eager. She had been too upset to visit the hospital again after the first morning, when the entire cast came just after the accident. Some of the hospital staff had said a few nasty things, and Lettie had explained to Charity and Phillip that she didn't want to come back and risk "punchin' one of them in their mouth." The others had followed her lead, as they tended to do, and stayed away from the hospital.

Now, most of them came and expressed their joy that Phinn was home and doing relatively well. One by one, they came through Charity and Phinn's bedroom, from Fedor, who was billed as "Dog Boy," to Chang, Eng, and the jugglers Carlos, Stanley, and Rose. Vasily ducked his way through every doorframe and expressed his eagerness for the Ringmaster to return in his thick, Slavic accent. Even O'Malley came, his hat in his hand. He'd never been one for much emotion, but he was clearly sincere in his happiness that Phinn was alive.

Finally, a week and a day after he had confessed to Charity that he was giving in to Peter Murray, Phillip came to visit. Anne was with him, along with the Albino twins. Charity welcomed them into her house. She was finally able to tell Lara and Mara apart, although it had taken the better part of two years. Lara was much more outgoing than her sister, usually letting her nearly white hair hang loose, like a feathery cloud. She also rejected most wardrobe conventions of the day, preferring to sheer the sleeves off of her dresses and cut them short. Mara, on the other hand, pinned her hair up when not performing and had gladly received a handful of Charity's old dresses to wear. They were both from Brazil, which was the homeland of many of the circus' performers, and they both spoke with rolling, Portuguese accents.

Charity escorted all of them to the bedroom, which she'd been keeping immaculate on account of all the visitors. Phinn was in bed, propped up by all the pillows they owned. His color wasn't bad, but the continued confinement to the bed was making him more frail by the week. Charity was concerned that he wasn't eating well, although she refused to let the cast see her worry.

She put on a bright smile and said, "Phinn! You have a few more visitors!"

She had helped him dress in dark gray shirt that morning, so he would be presentable for company, and helped him comb his flyaway hair. Pants were still not possible, with the pain and lack of mobility, so she made sure he was covered by the quilts. The small group entered the bedroom.

"P.T." Phillip nodded along with his greeting.

"Phillip." Phinn returned. He tried to smile broadly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Charity smiled brightly enough for her husband and herself and said, "We're so glad you could finally come."

Mara presented fresh flowers and said, "We've missed you greatly, Ringmaster."

"Yes," Lara added with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You've been gone so long, Mr. Phillip seems to think he's in charge."

Charity wasn't exactly sure if she was teasing, or implying truth. Excusing herself, she went to fetch a vase for the flowers.

She was gone only a few minutes when she heard what sounded like yelling. She hurried back with the flowers arranged in the vase to find Phinn staring Phillip down, his expression livid. Anne stood by the window, her arms crossed over her chest. The twins had retreated to the corner. Phillip was holding Phinn's angry gaze and Charity was certain, if her husband was mobile, they would be fighting. She set the flowers on the windowsill and noted Anne looked equally upset.

"How long have Anne and the others not been performing?" Phinn demanded.

Phillip sighed, "Just over a week."

"A week!" Phinn looked ready to climb out of the bed.

Charity crossed between them and said, "I don't think…"

"Why didn't you tell him?" Phillip turned suddenly and accosted Charity.

Her demeanor immediately switched from peacemaking to anger. She knew exactly what they were fighting about, and she had warned Phillip. She returned, "Me? I distinctly remember telling you that if you made this decision, you would be the one to tell your partner!"

"You were angry at the time!" Phillip defended himself. "I didn't think you actually meant…"

"Of course I meant it!" Charity argued.

"So you kept what's been going on at the circus a secret from him?"

"I do not keep secrets from my husband!" Charity snapped. "But this was not my decision and therefore not my news to communicate!"

"No secrets?" Phillip threw back as his expression darkened. "For that to be true, I think you have something you need to share with your husband."

Charity felt like he'd punched her in the gut. She'd never seen Phillip be so heartless. In the next moment, his expression changed, and she could see him instantly regret betraying her secret in such a heartless way. She turned back to Phinn, who was staring at both of them in anger and confusion.

"Stop it!" He ordered, his voice louder and stronger than Charity had heard since his fall. "Both of you! The only thing I'm holding onto right now is the thought that the two of you are keeping things going, that the circus won't die with me! That it's not falling apart as badly as I am, so…" His voice cracked, and he looked away.

Charity could see how hard he was struggling to keep his composure, and she immediately hated herself for picking a fight with Phillip rather than just talking to her husband. Then she simultaneously hated Phillip for not fighting for the circus, for their circus. Mostly, she hated to see Phinn lose his composure, because it simply wasn't him.

Anne, in a moment of great wisdom, turned and said, "Charity. Lara, Mara. Let's give the boys a few minutes to talk this out." She turned and headed into the hallway outside the bedroom door.

They all followed, because Lara and Mara were clearly uncomfortable and Charity needed to collect her thoughts.

Once in the hallway, Anne pulled the bedroom door shut and said, "I'm no happier about this decision than you, Charity. I think Phillip's wrong. I think we should fight Peter Murray and the Board of Trade. But...I also have to live with him."

Charity nodded. "I know what that's like."

Anne dropped her head. "He sees it as prudent. And I get it. He doesn't want to lose everything and he thinks we might be able to put the acts back in after a while when it all blows over, but...I think once people give up on us, they won't come back. And...I love flying. I've never known anything else. He doesn't understand...it's not just a job. It's...me."

Lara took her sister's hand and said, "The more we learn, the more it is us, too."

Charity understood in a much more personal way than she could say. Instead, she offered, "The two of them usually come to their senses, together. Let's not give up on them, yet."

Anne nodded and the twins tried to smile.

A minute later, the bedroom door opened and Phillip emerged. He glanced at Anne, then said to Charity, "Anne and I should go. We've caused enough trouble for today. I'll see you at the show tonight?"

Surprised at his formal tone, Charity just nodded. She said goodbye to the others and saw them out the door of the apartment. Then, she returned to Phinn.

He was staring out the window, his expression pensive and a little lost. Charity crossed to the bed and crawled into it next to him. The girls were at the park with their nanny and would be occupied for at least another hour. Charity laid her head on her husband's shoulder and stayed that way, without speaking, for several minutes.

Suddenly, he said, "Charity…" She could hear him struggling. "If there's someone else...I want you to know, I understand. It's been more than a month and this may be the new state of existence for me, so as much as it hurts, I understand if…"

"Phinn!" She sat up and cut him off. "What are you talking about?"

He stated, "Phillip implied you have a secret, from me." He swallowed hard. "And if it's someone else...I understand."

Charity felt her stomach turn, but her guilt at having a secret was overwhelmed by heartache as she looked into Phinn's eyes. He looked so lost, so ready to break at any moment, that it made her ache. Phinn's eyes were so honest, sometimes her heart could barely take it.

"Phinn," she said softly, taking his hand, "I could never, ever imagine loving anyone but you. I have loved you since I was twelve years old and first knew what love was. You are everything. My heart beats with yours. When you fell, I thought I'd die." She struggled, her voice catching at the memory. "I thought to myself, 'I'll never be able to bear it if he's gone. I'll die with him.' You are half of who I am. You are part of me and you are woven into every part of my life. I see you in the girls, in the show, even in the city itself."

He still looked hurt as he said, "Still, I would understand if…"

"Phinn," she stopped him again. She put her hands on either side of his face and said, "You were the first boy to make my heart flutter. My first kiss. The first and only man I've ever loved. You are the only man I've ever been with."

He glanced away. "Not for lack of other options, I'm sure." His tone was sad, rather than angry or flippant.

Charity made him look in her eyes again. "You are not a consolation prize, Phinn. You are strong and beautiful, even now. I chose you. I choose you."

Before he could argue, she leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth. At first, he was resistant, but after a minute he gave in to her. Charity deepened the kiss and he leaned further back into the pillows. She supported her weight with one hand and ran the other up into his hair. More memories flickered through her mind—stealing kisses from him between acts at the show, making love under their quilts on lazy mornings as the sun rose in the sky, and then falling back to sleep still wrapped in each other. The time a rooftop picnic had ended with them naked in the moonlight, and Charity was sure the stars had spun that night. Kissing Phinn was loaded with so many things. His touch unlocked a vault of memories that were familiar, intimate, and sacred. She needed him to understand that she couldn't imagine letting anyone else touch her that way. So she kissed him until she was breathless and had to pull away.

He kept his eyes closed and his chest rose and fell heavily. Charity kissed him softly on the cheek.

When he opened his eyes, he looked at her hungrily said, "I want to be well, for you."

She kissed his cheek again and said, "You will."

She sat back just as he asked, "So then, what is this secret?"

Charity felt her stomach twist again. She hesitated. "It's something about me. Only me. No one else. And I want to tell you about it, Phinn. But not yet. I just need a little more time and then, when I can show you, I will. I promise."

He nodded, but did not look entirely at ease.

Much later that night, Phillip stood backstage at the circus staring at Anne. She was dressed in a worn, faded blue dress and her hair was haphazardly tied back. She looked tired, even though she'd only been sitting backstage while those who were allowed, performed. The other aerialists had stopped coming, choosing to stay in the on-site housing Phillip had invested in building once they'd secured the land for the tent, or in their own apartments. Anne, however, sat backstage every night and stared him down every time he came offstage.

"Anne, it's late. Can we go home and not argue anymore today?" Phillip nearly begged, loosening his cravat and draping his Ringmaster coat over a ladder.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "We can go home. We can not argue. But that won't make me any less mad at you."

Phillip sighed heavily. "What else do you want me to say? If I put you back in the trapeze, we could end up without a show at all. Everyone could be on the street. Is that what you want?"

Anne's eyes flashed agrily. She stood up and pointed at him. "Don't put this on me! Don't act like I'm the one demanding terrible things of you!"

Phillip threw up his hands. "Then what would you have me do?"

She took a step toward him. "Fight for it, Phillip! Fight for me!"

"How?" he asked weakly.

She held his gaze. "Make Peter Murray file for an injunction! He's closed our case now, I'm sure. He'll have to open a new one if he wants to investigate us further. So make him do so. Make him file an injunction, and refuse to take out the aerialists unless he does it! Then, he'll have to prove we're a danger to the public to a judge! He was threatening you, Phillip. He was pushing for what he wanted, hoping we would respond out of fear, and that's exactly what we've done. But I'm not afraid of Peter Murray! And you shouldn't be either!"

Phillip slowly unbuttoned his vest, simultaneously loving and hating this passionate, stubborn part of her personality. "Anne, if we lose...we would lose everything."

She stepped in closer to him. "You don't know that. We would be appealing to a judge, not Peter Murray and his Board of Trade. We may only end up right where we are now."

Phillip hung his vest over the ladder next to his coat. "That is an incredible risk, Anne."

She crossed her arms again. "There was a time when you weren't afraid of risk."

He shook his head. "If you'll recall, it was P.T. who took the risks. I'm the one who put all my money in the bank, remember?"

Anne looked him over. "You walked away from your family to be his partner. That was an incredible risk."

He chuckled darkly. "Maybe."

She stepped in even closer and put her right hand on the side of his face. She spoke more softly, "You took a risk with me, Phillip."

He put his palm on her cheek and said gently, "You are the surest bet I've ever made, Anne Carlyle. I have never been uncertain about you."

She kissed him fiercely.

When they broke apart, she whispered, "Then bet on me again. Let me fly, Phillip. Bet on me again."

The following Thursday morning, the whole cast was gathered in the circus tent for a special called rehearsal. Phillip had asked all of them to come and try to work through their opening number to make it more dynamic. He appreciated that, so far, the cast was trying, even though he could feel the the aerialists' frustration at being grounded.

Ajani, who came from Nigeria and was a powerful acrobat, had also proven himself an adept choreographer. He and P.T. had put together the show's first musical numbers back in the old building in the city, as well as the opening number for the new tent. Phillip was incredibly glad to have him now. Ajani was tall and lean, with colorful tattoos and long, dredded locks of hair. With a rolling accent, he explained what he wanted each performer to do. They followed along, as did the musicians, who had grown in number since the early days.

The opening number at P.T. Barnum's Circus had become their statement piece. Children left the tent at night singing the lyrics. Adults found themselves tapping their feet to the rhythm days after attending. It was a song P.T. had written with Gus, the composer and conductor he and Phillip had hired when they bought the tent. This song had always felt like an anthem to their success. Phillip usually felt an incredible rush every time he was able to perform it. Now, however, he was in the ring six nights a week. Another change that had come along with the tent two years ago was the decision for the circus to be "dark" one night a week. P.T. had explained that, with such a large facility, they needed a night for maintenance, thorough cleaning, and rest. Phillip had wholeheartedly supported the decision. Now, he was especially glad for it.

Phillip was exhausted. He was trying to perform with twice the usual energy to make up for P.T.'s absence, the loss of the aerialists, and the skepticism of the critics that the show could go on without P.T. Barnum. Before the accident, Phillip had felt confident in his role as Second Ringmaster. Now, he felt like P.T.'s shoes were far too big for him to ever fill. And all of it was exhausting.

You need to find someone to train. I've told you before. The future of the show is in the performers you train, in the next generation. Including the part of Ringmaster.

Anne had said all that more than once, but Phillip generally brushed her off. He didn't feel old enough to need a "next generation." Until today. As they ran through the opening number once again, he felt every ache, every strain, and every hour he hadn't slept over the past five weeks.

Once the number was complete, Phillip met Ajani's eyes and said, "Take a break, everyone. Come back in ten."

As the cast sat down or shuffled outside to the drinking water pump, Phillip noticed someone sitting in the shadows by the side entrance. He crossed the space, not sure who would be here on a Thursday morning. He checked his pocket watch. It was nearly noon—not so much morning, but far too early for audience to arrive.

"Good morning!" Phillip said with a smile.

The person stood, and he realized she was a woman. She was tall, and she could easily meet Phillip's eyes. She was wearing a long overcoat that might've been a man's and she had a satchel with her. Her hair was darkest brown and tied back at the nape of her neck in a loose bun, however some curls had escaped and brushed her neck and chin. She was slender, but her frame was more imposing than delicate. When he got close enough, Phillip could see that she had striking, deep blue eyes framed with thick lashes and set in a face with high cheekbones and a strong nose and jaw.

Phillip gave her a nod and said, "I'm Phillip Carlyle."

She stuck out her hand, more like a gentleman than a lady, and smiled an impish grin. "And I am Emaline Semanovka."

Phillip returned her smile and said, "The show doesn't start until eight, but we love your enthusiasm. Can I leave you a ticket at will-call?"

She shook her head.

"No?" Phillip questioned.

"I've been here every night for the past year," she stated bluntly.

"Every night?"

"Every night."

Phillip decided she might look slightly familiar. He asked, "But you don't need a ticket for tonight?"

She shook her head. "No. I want to audition."

He was taken aback. They hadn't posted audition flyers lately. "Audition?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"For what?"

She held his eyes and without flinching said, "Ringmaster."