PublicBookshelf Book Club
Weekly tips on great novels to read.
A calliope played a deafeningly cheery tune. Charity pushed her way through a room full of balloons and cotton candy until she came to the rope ladder. Up she climbed, higher and higher, to the very top of the big-top tent. She stepped out onto the tiny platform, and across the way she could see Ross, grinning. She smiled and lifted her arms, suddenly exultant. And then she was flying through the air, her fingers wrapped tightly around the bar of the trapeze. She swung across the wide expanse, once, twice, three times, and then she let go, sailing through space, her body arched like a bird's.
Ross was waiting for her, his muscular legs wound about the ropes of his own trapeze, his arms stretched toward her. She reached for him. Their fingers almost touched.
But no, it was wrong! Ross's hands slipped out of her grasp and she wanted to scream. She was falling ... falling-
She came to earth with a thump, her dream splintering around her. That voice. She knew that voice.
"Charity, darling, wake up. It's me, Aunt Doris."
Charity blinked sleepy eyes and wished to heaven that she were still dreaming. "Aunt Doris?" she repeated weakly.
"Yes, dear. Didn't you get my letter? I decided to come early, and here I am."
Charity tried to smile. Yes, there she was. Good old Aunt Doris, her gray hair frizzing comfortably about her weathered face, her sensible cardigan about her shoulders, her classic plaid wool skirt, her sensible shoes. And right behind her stood Ross.