Page 48 of The Starling and the Hatter

Hatcher snorted. “Of course they’re the most excited to see you,” he said as he grabbed a trunk and hoisted it from the bed of the wagon.

I just gave him a smug smile and then dropped to my knees so that I could catch the girls in my arms. “Hello, my beautiful ladies. Have you missed me?”

“Yes!” Didi declared as she squished her cheek into mine. “You’ve been gone forever and ever!”

“It wasn’t forever,” Twyla corrected Didi. “It was six weeks,” she said, sounding like she was reciting something Dorothy had told them more than one time. Then she looked directly at me. “But six weeks is a very, very long time.”

“I know. But we’re back now for two whole weeks.”

“But then you leave again.”

“Yes,” I said as I watched Hatcher drop the trunk by the door of the house. “But only for three weeks this time. So it won’t be so terribly long.”

Hatcher walked up and stopped just behind the girls, his hands on his hips. “No hugs for me?” he asked.

“Maddox!” they both screamed, immediately abandoning me for their older brother.

I gratefully climbed to my feet and went to the wagon to get a load. As I pulled a trunk toward me, I was joined by Kat, who gave me a side hug. “Did you dazzle the crowds this year?” she asked.

“Yes. The dazzling was nonstop.”

“Just as I suspected.” We each grabbed a handle of the trunk and worked together to bring it to the house. There were only a few things that would remain here. The rest of the wagon was filled with the tent and all the wares that would be taken and sold when the festival started here in Dressle, three days from now.

We entered the house and were enveloped in much commotion. Marshall sat in a chair with four-year-old Mouse and almost three-year-old Billy on his lap, both talking over each other and not caring one bit. Twyla and Didi were following Hatcher around as he tried to unload one of the trunks, and Dorothy was in the kitchen, making tea.

I took in a deep breath of contentment. It was a wonderful commotion.

16

Elise

I’d spent the past several days playing with the girls and helping Kat with some basic sewing. I kept wanting to tell Kat about Robert. I wanted to blurt out all the excitement and all the hurt and confusion, but as the days had gone by, Robert’s abandonment had become a thing of shame inside me. He wouldn’t have done it if I’d been enough. If I were truly what he wanted, I would have been brave enough to accept his invitation and find a way to follow after him.

But that terrified me. I wanted to do it, but how? How could I possibly be that brave?

I was avoiding Hatcher, but only a little bit. The unsettling feeling I’d had when he helped me with my wasp stings hadn’t ever come back with the same intensity, but it was still there and I couldn’t explain it. It lay hidden under the surface, enough that I could ignore it if my mind was occupied with other things. But then I’d brush past Hatcher the way I had so many times before, and instead of feeling nothing extraordinary, I felt…discomfited? Embarrassed? Or maybe just aware? Whatever it was, I didn’t like it, especially on top of my turmoil over Robert.

Fortunately, today was the start of the Dressle festival, and I was anxious to spread my wings and throw my voice out into the world. We’d set up the tent last night and Hatcher had slept there. Marshall and I had gotten up early so we could help Hatcher open and so I would have time to change and find a suitable spot for performing.

The people of Dressle were familiar enough to me that having them stop to listen gave me real satisfaction. The Hatchers had allowed me to build a life here, enough that coming back felt like coming home. And for a lifelong festival rat, that was miraculous indeed.

At midday, I went to the tent and found Dorothy and the rest of the family there, lunch in hand. Kat and I took our food a ways off to eat and talk. She spent much of the time half listening to me while she looked around at the crowds, probably hoping to spot George.

When we finished, she helped me change into a more elaborate costume than I’d worn this morning. Ludly and I wanted to do our combined performance twice at this festival, and tonight would be our first one. Since I knew I wanted to be in this costume, and since I wanted to avoid asking Hatcher for help, I’d decided to have Kat help me now.

As I left the tent, Marshall was talking with a young couple and Hatcher was standing just outside, inviting people to browse the wares. When I passed him, he smiled. “I think that’s my favorite costume of yours.”

“Shh, don’t tell the others,” I teased. “They may get jealous that their maker favors one over the rest.”

As I walked away, I thought about what Robert had said about the Hatchers. About how they made more money than I was likely to see in a lifetime. He was right, of course. The reason I was able to wear this elaborate costume was because Hatcher insisted on making it for me. I always paid him, but I knew it was less than he would make selling it to someone else. Still, it wasn’t like I just took from them without giving in return, and I had to hope that any outsiders didn’t think I was using them. Even more, I hoped that the Hatchers never had reason to resent me for all they’d done. But, as Robert had pointed out, eventually I would find someone and they would be my family, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about the Hatchers tiring of me.

My performance with Ludly and the Starfire troupe that evening went very well. But having Hatcher watching over me was a little different. The way he looked at me with the fire reflecting in his eyes seemed different, even though I knew it was the same look he always had when he watched me.

I was making more of this than it was. That silly incident with the wasps was wreaking havoc on my friendship with Hatch, and I didn’t appreciate it. The Hatchers were my lifeline. They were the only reason I was not only successful but alive, and I would not put that in jeopardy.

When I finished my performance, I found Hatcher and took his arm, the way I always did, determined to stop whatever awkwardness I had conjured.

“It looked like they had a new dancer,” he commented.