Last Dance on the Starlight Pier by Sarah Bird

Author:Sarah Bird
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

CHAPTER 46

Though I stayed up late that night writing Sofie the fattest, juiciest letter I could fit in an envelope and send to the right address, I woke the next morning long before the sun rose filled with new energy, new hope, and rushed to the arena. It would be an agonizing wait until I heard from my best friend again, but I had decided to make good use of it: I would corner Zave and make him tell me about my father.

As I expected, the place was dead. Dim economy lights cast a murky glow over the floor. The far reaches of the stadium, where sleepers and those enjoying other horizontal activities were tucked away, were completely dark. All the dancers seemed to be either unconscious or operating on automatic pilot and they barely noticed as I edged onto the floor.

Zave, reading one of his neatly folded newspapers while he managed a thrashing, snoring Cleo, offered the only spark of life. “Gravy,” he greeted me with a surprising heartiness. “What a nice surprise. What are you doing here? Your shift doesn’t start for a couple more hours.”

Suddenly shy, I faltered. “I thought maybe this might be a good time to finally talk about my father.”

“Denny,” he said, savoring the name. “Yes. Great idea. Here, you take these.” He handed me his papers. “And I’ll get Cleo settled down.” Dodging a flying elbow, he arranged his partner into a more comfortable sleeping position and, her head resting on his broad shoulder, she stopped struggling. The one judge on duty, an overweight guy sprawled on a folding chair, twirled his finger to signal a warning to Zave to keep moving and I fell into step beside him.

“Okay, where should I start?”

“At the beginning,” I said eagerly. “I want to know everything. Right from the start. Don’t forget a single detail.”

“I couldn’t if I tried. Every second of that first night I set eyes on Denny Devlin is carved in my memory.”

For a moment or two, Zave stared off into the distance. His obvious affection for my father was like rain on parched earth after a childhood of listening to Mamie disparage him for “unforgivable betrayals” like dying.

“It was a miracle,” Zave began. “No other way to describe it. There I was marooned in Elmer, Michigan, where, from my earliest memories, I was out of place. I just didn’t belong. Especially not in my own family. You know?”

“Completely,” I answered.

Shaking his head as if to get rid of the memory, he went on, “Anyway, it was the summer of 1913, right after I turned ten. Not that anyone in my family noticed.

“No matter,” he hurried on, brightening again. “That was the day that the miracle happened. The F. Andrews Traveling Vaudeville Show, the World’s Greatest Tented Amusement Enterprise, came to town.”

“Yes,” I gasped, recognizing that name. “That’s what was printed on the one photo Mamie kept of my father. Actually, she only kept half of that photo, because she tore the other half off.

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