08 Illusion (18 page)

Just like Daddy.

She could just look at everybody else, but she couldn’t
just look
at him without getting stuck there, pulled through a window to … somewhere she’d been.

Focus, girl, focus! What’s next?

He’s not smiling and I know he can smile. He doesn’t like my act.

Oh, bummer, where am I? I changed the five for the silvers. Oh! I still have to get Burt back.

She patted her pockets, looking perplexed. “Burt? Where are you, buddy?”

She’d planted Burt’s double in Winifred the college prof’s handbag. She reached with the part of her that nobody, not even she, could see, and found him in the bag with Winifred’s cell phone, makeup, car keys, checkbook, grocery list, and a paperback edition of
The Grapes of Wrath.
She tugged, he jumped, the bag wiggled, everybody freaked, and she got Burt back with a nice flourish and a great ta-da!

She had ’em back! Great applause. Final bow …

But he still wasn’t smiling! He was staring!

Oh, man. Encore? What?
Her mind was an empty box, and she was groping around in it. They were applauding, but it wouldn’t last forever.

Now or never, kid!

Well, what can I do that’s going to impress this guy?

One more thing. Maybe.

Ohhhh, doom. Certain doom and destruction. Don’t do it.

She looked in his direction—
oh, let’s try not to be so obvious! What’s he staring at? What, I’ve got a horn growing out of my head?

The applause died, and she was still standing there. They were waiting, ready for magical dessert. A little girl stood on her chair, eyes hungry, hands ready to clap again should Eloise do
anything.

Uhhh … well …

Without a word, she stepped to the center of the floor,
feeling
her way into her final stunt. All this stuff was so much a matter of
feeling
, working her way deep into her crazy world, stepping off little cliffs and learning new rules every day. She’d been working on this stunt in her apartment. Sometimes she could get it to work, and sometimes she couldn’t. Whatever she’d tried there, she’d have to repeat here in front of all these people.

Which could be a big mistake. Maybe.

The tension in the place could have powered the lights. She slipped out of her shoes and set them aside. People were leaning forward. A child spoke, and her mother shushed her. Eloise stood with her feet together, arms outstretched. She met the eyes of the people seated all around her, and then looked one more time at the guy.

He was not just watching her. He was
really
watching, and his gaze came through that window to somewhere she’d been.

And Daddy was there.

Oh, dear Lord, don’t let me flop.

She closed her eyes to shut everything out. With hands she didn’t have and with senses outside herself, she groped for what she’d come to know as folds and ripples in space, and it came easily this time. She could feel them like veins of thickness in water, moving and shifting like the Northern Lights, here, then there, close, far, thin, wide, sharp, shallow, but always within reach. With hands that were not here in the room, she grabbed hold. She was connected, in sync. She should be okay.

She opened her eyes. She’d made it. Everybody was still watching, sitting in the same room, and she was still in the center of the floor, with one key difference: she was also somewhere else. That was as near as she could explain it.

Come on, girl. Do well. Don’t look at me, look at them. Focus.

Arnie whispered, “Is she gonna do a levitation?”

Dane could see it coming, but how could she do a levitation with people on all sides? He and Arnie rose to their feet as one, watching her feet, sizing up her pant legs. She’d be doing this without shoes. How?

The room was silent. The serving staff became a tableau behind the counter, Myron with a pitcher in his hand but not pouring, Megan with a towel in her hands but not drying, the owner and his wife transfixed as if watching a moon launch at T minus five seconds.

The magician stood still, waiting, eyes full of wonder as if watching something no one else could see. Her hands were extended as if reaching for something, trying to grab hold.

She’s building the tension
, Dane thought.
She’s driving us all nuts.

A lady at a front-row table gasped, and on cue everyone leaned forward, craned, stared at the girl’s feet. The heels were lifting from the floor millimeter by millimeter, smoothly, with no visible muscle strain or quiver. A full inch. Two inches.

Dane was impressed by how impressed he was. This girl got a gasp just for lifting her heels off the floor.
Come on, girl, pay it off. Finish well.

Now every eye was on those toes, which was a good clue for Dane to look elsewhere. He searched the ceiling and walls for an apparatus, perhaps a glint of a thread or cable. Nothing.

He returned his attention to the girl’s feet.

Another gasp.

“Whoa!”

“Is she off the floor?”

Folks in front were bending way down, marveling at the gap appearing between her feet and the hardwood. Some were leaning right and left, trying to see wires.

She was off the floor by two or three inches, still rising, and seemed as astonished as anyone, her eyes wide, her whole face sparkling like that of a child just learning to ride a bike. She squealed with nervousness, with delight—a sound Dane could have recognized across a huge room full of partying people.

Ten inches. A foot. Two feet. She bent her knees, pulled her feet up, and hovered there, laughing and hooting along with the crowd, as amazed as they were. About three feet above the floor she began to rotate, eyes passing over the crowd as they cheered and she waved at them. It was becoming a real party.

“She didn’t do this yesterday,” said Arnie, eyes locked on her.

“Maybe she’s never done it,” said Dane.

I can’t believe this! I’m doing it! I’m really doing it! I’m crazy!
“Hi, down there!”

She waved and hollered at them and they waved and hollered back. As easily as climbing a step she rose higher, then kicked her feet and did a somersault. The audience wasn’t having half the fun she was. Such an incredible sensation, like moving through some kind of
stuff
that held her up while she, and herself, and lots of other Eloises pressed and pushed and bore her weight from … well, from somewhere
outside
.
Toe-Tall-Lee Freaky!

Was somebody smoking in here? She could smell something burning.

From somewhere came the crash of shattering dishes and she heard people screaming. It stole her attention. She looked and nearly lost hold, wobbling in midair like a beginner on skates, dropping several inches until she grabbed hold again.
Concentrate! Stay with it!

Corporal James Dose was standing, raising a glass of wine for a toast when his shoulder exploded, spattering blood on the restaurant table, his father, his mother, and his new fiancée. He lurched forward and fell across the table, scattering dishes, splattering food, smashing the centerpiece. The restaurant erupted in screams and panic. Patrons dropped to the floor and cowered under chairs and tables. Heads spun, waiters scrambled, the hostess got on the phone as she crouched behind her desk.
Where is the shooter?
everyone wondered.
Where is the shooter?

chapter

17

M
iss Eloise Kramer, may I present Mr. Dane Collins.”

“Hello.” She managed to get that much out as they shook hands and settled into their chairs. Her hands were visibly shaking and she knew her face was flushed. She’d come in for a soft landing, but inside she was still flying, her mind like a picture book in a strong wind, and now she was face-to-face with … well, she couldn’t explain it, but he was more than just the man sitting at the table across from her. She couldn’t help but stare at him, which had to be okay because he was sure staring at her.

Well, Dane, you’d better say something.
“That was quite a performance.”

“Whoa, thank you, thank you!” She looked at her hand. “Whoo! I’m still shaking!”

From across the room the impression, the illusion, the … okay, the delusion … was somewhat deniable. He could attribute it to the lighting in the room, the distance, perhaps his age, his eyes, the tendency of young girls to sound alike when excited, all the details his mind could have altered to match the template in his memory. But close up, right across the table, the sound of her voice, the laughter in her eyes, the funny expressions …

There must have been too long a silence. Arnie piped up, “I was … um … I was here yesterday, as you know, and I saw your performance then, and I thought—no, I knew—that Mr. Collins would be interested in meeting you.” Now Arnie looked at him, a clear and forceful cue.

The hobo makeup and outfit gave him room to imagine this girl as the one he first saw at the Spokane fair with long, blond tresses floating in the breeze, the quintessential surfer girl/farmer’s daughter/flower child. He could see this girl dressed in that girl’s blouse and jeans and, oh, yes, the ankle bracelet with two silver doves worn over her white crew sock. It looked a little goofy on that day, but he loved it about her and forty years later she was wearing it again … on the day he lost her.

Arnie was staring at him.

“Umm …” He had to clear his throat. “That’s an interesting name, uh, Eloise Kramer.”

Her eyebrows perked up and her eyes widened into that sweet, innocent look he’d enjoyed every time he saw it. “Really?”

“The, umm, the … well, you have a very unique approach.”

Weird feeling. Like she’d hit a nice grounder into left field, had rounded first, and this guy, this Dane Collins, was second base. Safe! That’s what she’d be if she could only get there. “Thanks for all that great advice.”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, sure thing. It was pretty cold out there.”

“Yeah. Sure was. And thanks again for the hat and sweater.”

“It was a … it was a good meeting we had.”

What was it about this guy that was so … stable, like a rock in a river? She wanted to come right out and ask him,
Do you know Arthur Whitacre? Have you ever been to the Wooly Acres Ranch? Are you really sitting there or are you just another delusion from a past I never had, or did I really have it? Just what is the connection here?

The only question she could think of built up inside her and she blurted out, “Who are you, anyway?”

Wild. He didn’t seem to know.

“I’m …”
Was?
“I’m in … I was in … show business. I was a professional magician and producer.”

Arnie piped up again. “He’s on hiatus from the stage now, but thinking he’d like to do some producing, maybe some managing, you know, develop new talent.”

Her eyes brightened at that. “Oh! And here you are, talking to me.”

“That’s right,” said Arnie, who looked at Dane again.

Here I am, talking to you.

Dane wanted to talk to her, talk
with
her, stay right there and talk about magic, performance, the heart of it all. They could go on to talk about life with its turns, twists, ups, and downs and laugh at how events could turn in such unbelievable ways. Her eyes would sparkle the way he’d grown to love, her smile would shatter his fears and self-doubts, her voice … well, he’d be able to hear it again. He’d sit here all night just for that.

Oh, brother.
He broke his gaze and let his eyes sink to the table, his brow resting on his interlaced fingers.
Dane, you are one sick individual.

He looked up. She was hanging on the edge, hungry for his next utterance. “But … I’m sorry.”

She looked at him blankly. So did Arnie.

“I … I think you have a real talent and you’ll go a long way, but I … I just can’t participate in your career. Keep going, kid, you’re going to do great.” He rose, grabbed his coat.

Oh, the tragedy in her eyes! The letdown! He couldn’t look at her.

Arnie was aghast. He was showing it with everything he had.

“We have to go,” Dane told him, and didn’t wait for an answer. He just headed for the door.

Arnie wanted to talk, of course, but Dane just kept walking, getting some city blocks between them and that girl.

“I absolutely cannot believe what I just saw back there! That, that was the most astounding talent, the best fertile soil for development, the best business opportunity you could have asked for. Dane, stop and talk to me!”

They were almost to the car. He felt safe enough, so he stopped. “Eloise Kramer.”

Arnie just stared at him. “What?”

“Eloise was Mandy’s middle name, remember? She was named after her mother, Eloise, and Kramer was her mother’s maiden name. She’s named herself after her mother, or Mandy’s mother, or, or something!”

Arnie’s jaw dropped, his hands raised. He was at a total loss. “Are you nuts?”