Alina and The Greatest Show on Earth, Part 3

Oct 1884

Colorado

I watched in envy as Marte and Edie caught each other’s hands mid-flight, their bodies arcing with grace and ease. Marte swung through the air, and the audience gasped in wonder. I could feel the thrill pulse through me, the memory of what it felt like to be twenty feet in the air.

Edie caught Marte by the wrists and swung her up to the platform. Edie swung back over to her platform, and they both bowed as the audience clapped, and in that moment, I felt eyes on me.

I turned and saw Dr. Rigby standing just behind the curtain near where I stood, his gaze not on the performers, but on me. He smiled gently. I smiled shyly back.

The crowd gasped again. I looked up and saw Franz holding a balance pole, beginning his slow, precise walk across the high wire. My feet tingled, as though I were up there instead of standing in the sawdust and dirt, rooted to the earth.

Dr. Rigby stepped closer.

“So that’s what you used to do?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Quite the feat,” he murmured.

My eyes stayed riveted on Franz. His face was tight with focus as he reached the platform, where Marte and Edie waited. The three of them took a final bow before climbing down the ladder. Their act was over.

Franz and Edie slipped outside the tent, likely off to eat. Marte, however, made a beeline toward me, a knowing smirk on her lips.

“Hi, Dr. Rigby,” she said with exaggerated cheer. “Doesn’t Alina look beautiful tonight?”

He chuckled. “Indeed, she does. We were just speaking about her time performing with you.”

“Oh, she was the best,” Marte gushed. “She taught me everything I know. She taught Edie and Franz, too. We’re all very excited for the baby,” she said, looking at my belly, “but it’s rotten luck that now she’s stuck telling fortunes with her grandmother in that hot, stuffy tent, instead of being up there with us.” I smiled at Dr. Rigby’s shocked face. Marte was never one to mince words.

“How are you at fortune-telling?” he asked with a smile.

“Not as good as she was on the rope,” Marte answered before I could. I gave her a look. She winked and flounced off.

“Your friend thinks very highly of you,” he said.

“Marte’s always been loyal,” I replied. “I’ve been fortunate to have friends like her.”

“I would agree,” he murmured, then suddenly plucked a small piece of straw from my hair. “This was in your curls,” he said.

I blushed. “Thank you for removing it.” And my stomach dropped at the warmth of his touch.

Then, like a cold wind, Matthias appeared behind us. His face darkened.

“Careful, Doctor. You don’t want to get caught up with this one,” he sneered, eyes locked on me.

Dr. Rigby turned toward him, his voice cold and clipped. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s the one who’s been trapped by your actions.”

Matthias scoffed. “Is that right, Doctor? She’s been telling her little sob story?” he asked with cruel disdain.

“How dare you?” Dr. Rigby snapped. “I’ve heard what you did. You got her pregnant and left her.”

“I did no such thing,” Matthias barked. “If she says that baby’s mine, she’s lying.”

“I imagine the only liar here is you,” Dr. Rigby said evenly. “I’ve heard enough to know you’re the father and a disgrace to the very idea. You abandoned her and your child.”

Matthias stepped forward, his eyes narrowing, the red flush creeping up his neck.

“Careful with your words, Doctor,” he said lowly.

I placed my hand gently on Dr. Rigby’s arm. “Please… it’s all right. You don’t have to defend me.”

“I most certainly do,” he said. “This young scoundrel has been disgusting toward you since the day I arrived, and no one seems to care.”

“It won’t do any good,” I whispered. “He’s made up his mind. He’ll never claim the child.”

“Because it’s not my child,” Matthias growled.

I ignored him.

“I’m just grateful I still have a place here in the circus.”

Matthias sneered. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? You and your gypsy* family.” He said gypsy as if it were garbage in his mouth and stalked off to prepare for his act.

Dr. Rigby turned to me with sincere regret. “I’m sorry, Alina. Sorry that you got wrapped up in that man’s charms.”

I looked away, ashamed. “That’s very kind of you to say, Dr. Rigby.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his tone shifting. “Tell me, though, how is the baby? How have you been feeling? I’d very much like to give you a proper check-up.”

“My uncle says I can, so long as my aunt or grandmother accompanies me,” I replied.

“Well,” he said gently, “perhaps tomorrow?”

I nodded. “I’ll see if one of them can come.”

He hesitated. “In the meantime, would it be all right if I escorted you to the food tent? Just for a bite to eat?”

I hesitated, nerves tangling with excitement. “I… I don’t know, Dr. Rigby.”

“I understand,” he said softly. “I can wait a little longer.”

***

A few days later, after the show had ended and the crowd dispersed into town, Dr. Rigby returned to our caravan. My uncle was perched on a stool outside, puffing a cigar and nursing a tin cup of malt liquor. One of his friends leaned on the rigging frame nearby.

Dr. Rigby greeted them both with a respectful nod, then, boldly and with surprising confidence, turned to my uncle.

“Mr. Cioban,” he said, “would it be all right if I took your niece for a short walk? There’s a shop in town I’d like to show her.”

My uncle raised a brow and blew out a stream of smoke, his friend puffing out a short laugh beside him, giving Dr. Rigby a once-over. My uncle studied the doctor for a long moment before waving his cigar casually.

“You’ve been patient enough, Doctor. And you seem like a decent enough man. If she wants to go, you may take her.”

My aunt and grandmother exchanged a meaningful look. I caught their glance and looked down at the ground, feeling bashful.

“I’ll just grab my shawl,” I said quickly, hurrying into the caravan. I smoothed my hair, pinched some color into my cheeks, and snatched my shawl from its hook.

As I came back outside, my uncle barked, “Your aunt is going with you as a chaperone.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

My aunt gave me a wink only I could see. Dr. Rigby offered me his arm, and I took it. He looked down at me with a gentle smile.

“You look beautiful tonight, Miss Cioban.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely audible as I knew everyone was listening, and the wife of my uncle’s friend was a gossip.

As we walked past the performers’ wagons, I caught Marte peeking through her window, grinning wildly. A moment later, Edie’s face joined hers. They both waved, their excitement impossible to ignore.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

We followed the dusty path into town beneath a sky of fading indigo. The lanterns flickered to life along the main road, and the stars began to peek through above the mountains. My aunt walked behind at a respectable distance.

He asked me about my fortune-telling that day, and I told him about the woman who complained her husband ate too much. “I told her I saw him turning into a pig,” I said, frowning.

He laughed, and it was a warm, rich sound. “What did she say to that?”

“She left us an extra coin,” I said, shrugging, still perplexed that she paid me extra.

He laughed even harder, and I looked back at my aunt, who was laughing, too. Maybe someday I would understand it.

As we reached the small mountain town, I saw the maple trees lining the streets were starting to turn bright golds, deep reds, and fiery oranges.

“What store did you want to show me?” I asked as we turned onto Main Street.

“Just up ahead, on the left,” he said, eyes twinkling.

We stopped in front of the mercantile. I gave him a puzzled look. “The general store?” I looked at my aunt, who wasn’t paying attention. A bolt of white cloth had caught her eye. I could almost see her planning my wedding dress and hoped Dr. Rigby didn’t notice.

He grinned. “It’s what’s inside that I want to show you.”

He held the door open, and we stepped through. The warmth of a potbelly stove was comforting. The shopkeeper nodded politely, and my aunt headed over to the fabric. Dr. Rigby led me to the back corner, where a few wooden shelves stood half-filled with books.

Not just ledgers or farmers’ almanacs but real books. Dime novels, romantic tales, stories from far-off places.

I gasped softly. “I didn’t know they had these here.”

“I asked your aunt what you liked,” he said, leaning casually against the shelf. “She said you always stop for the bookmobile or any shop that sells stories. She said you especially love the novels.”

I looked up at him, embarrassed. “It’s not very ladylike,” I confessed, “but I do enjoy them.”

“They’re more exciting than most newspapers,” he said with a smile. “How about I buy you a couple?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t let you—”

“Miss Cioban,” he said gently, “I insist.”

I hesitated, but he added, teasing, “If you don’t pick them out, I will.”

I smiled. “All right.”

I chose two I’d heard about from old bits of newspaper—one about a daring lady detective, the other about a haunted manor.

“Are you sure?” I asked, even as he took them from my hands and carried them to the front counter.

“I’m sure,” he said. “You must get bored sometimes, not being able to perform. And there are only so many fortunes to tell in a day.”

“Thank you, Doctor Rigby,” I said, my voice soft.

My aunt had wandered over, and Dr. Rigby asked where the cloth was.

“Oh,” she waved a hand. “I’ll have to get it another time.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “It’s my gift to you for coming with us. And somehow convincing your husband to let me court your niece.”

My aunt’s face beamed. “That’s very kind of you, Doctor. We have been needing some new clothes.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, then looked down at me. I felt warmth heating my face as my aunt chuckled, then led the proprietor to the cloth she wanted.

“Now,” Dr. Rigby said, as we stepped back into the street after our purchases, “for your next treat, we’re going to the hotel.”

I froze. “The hotel?” I panicked. Hotels normally didn’t like it when my family came in, and I had bad memories of being chased out of several when we’d tried to get a room or even dinner.

“They serve ice cream,” he said, oblivious to my momentary panic. “And I’d like to buy you one.”

“Oh… that’s not necessary.”

He looked at me then, more seriously. “Alina, if you haven’t noticed, I’m very interested in courting you.” He looked at my aunt, who nodded her approval.

I didn’t know what to say. My heart fluttered at his words.

Court me? I hadn’t dared imagine it, hadn’t allowed myself to hope for something as foolish as romance—not with my reputation now ruined, not with a child on the way.

“What does my uncle say?” I asked them both.

“He and I and your grandmother approve,” she said with a contented look on her face.

“And what do you say, Miss Cioban?” he asked me.

Shyly, with butterflies in my stomach, I looked at his kind, handsome face and said, “I would like that very much.”

“Well,” Dr. Rigby said with a smile, “let’s make it a proper outing for the three of us.”

We walked the rest of the way to the hotel, the town quiet and soft around us, the mountains cradling the sky in the distance. The hotel itself glowed warmly, and the smell of food wafted from its parlor windows.

Inside, we were greeted by the cheerful clinking of dishes and the gentle hum of conversation. Dr. Rigby led us to the small counter at the back where a uniformed girl served up scoops of ice cream in delicate glass dishes. For the first time in a while, we only got curious looks rather than disdain. I assumed it was because we were with Dr. Rigby. It was a nice change.

My aunt selected something with berries and honey. I chose vanilla—cold, creamy, and sweet enough to make me close my eyes in delight. Dr. Rigby ordered a small coffee and a scoop of chocolate for himself, which he ate slowly, savoring every bite.

My aunt ate hers silently, her mouth puckering at the cold. “Oh, this is heavenly.”

I tried not to laugh, especially when she leaned over and murmured, “If this is courting, Alina, I approve.”

I blushed and focused on my ice cream.

We talked easily as we ate. Dr. Rigby told us about the patients he’d treated in Colorado mining towns, and how one man swore a ghost had cured his fever. My aunt tsked at that, but her eyes twinkled the whole time.

When we finally left, my arms were full—books clutched to my chest, a small parcel of cloth for my aunt under her arm—and the cool night air felt like a balm on my cheeks.

My aunt trailed behind us, far enough to give us privacy, but close enough to appear proper. Dr. Rigby and I walked quietly side by side, our steps in rhythm on the dusty road.

He glanced over at me. “I know I probably shouldn’t say this, not yet... but I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

The words struck something deep inside me, something I never thought would be possible for me because of my mistakes. I held my middle, feeling its tightness, getting excited, but also afraid of the baby that was coming.

“I... thank you,” I whispered.

“I mean it,” he said. “And I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to make sure you and your child are cared for. Properly.”

Dare I hope he meant it? He seemed to.

We walked a few more steps in silence. I didn’t know how to answer. My thoughts drifted to the dream of a small cottage on the edge of town, with the vegetable garden and fresh eggs and milk every day, and a room for my grandmother and my baby to rest.

Could that dream come true?

Come back next week for Part 4 of Alina and Dr. Rigby's story.

Click here for last week's installment.

*The term "gypsy" is historical and considered a slur against the Roma people. I use it in my story to keep it historically accurate, but do not agree with the connotations it invokes. No offense is meant by my story.