“She’ll be fine,” said Audrey wearily. She took his hand and held it firmly.

For hours, they sat, side by side, in plastic chairs, silent. Then Lara’s fever broke and then stayed down on its own, for the first time. It would take another eight hours for her to fully regain consciousness.

But there was something about Audrey’s manner that unnerved him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was shock, but he couldn’t shake the idea that Lara had only improved after her mother had arrived. Audrey had been the catalyst.

Ben filled Audrey in on the composition books when Barrow and Gaston returned to the hospital. The three took turns briefing her, correcting one another with more accurate interpretations. The best Ben and Gaston could figure was that, in 1926, the real Cecile Cabot, weakened from childbirth, fell from the trapeze and died. Just as she’d promised, Sylvie took Margot and ran, posing as Cecile Cabot for the remainder of her life.

Audrey absorbed all of this news with a stoicism that surprised Ben. They’d uncovered a hidden secret about the woman who had raised her, yet Audrey sat on the chair, expressionless. In her features he could see Lara years from now. He tried to think of Jason’s and Audrey’s features blending into Lara’s—the fair hair, big green eyes, and upturned nose—but he didn’t see any of Jason. Except for her raspy voice, Lara definitely took after her mother. Still, Ben couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong with Audrey. Instead of being relieved that her daughter’s fever had broken, he couldn’t help but think that she was mourning something.

Audrey got up and walked over to the window. “I never should have let her come here.”

Gaston put his hand on her shoulder. “You couldn’t have stopped this. If the circus wanted her, they’d have found a way to get her. And she would have gone, Audrey. You know that.”

Audrey nodded absently.

Ben knew what Gaston had said was true. Of course Lara would have gone.

At noon, Ben decided to go to his hotel. Before he left, he stopped by Lara’s room, not asking anyone, Audrey or the nurses, if it was okay. He needed to see her. To his surprise, he found her lying there with her eyes open. A feeling of dread washed over him. The fever had been too high for too long. The doctors had warned them that there was a chance that a seizure may have caused brain damage.

“I’m not dead.” It was her voice, raspier than usual, but the tone was pure Lara. “So quit looking at me like that.”

It was the Lara he knew, the one from Delilah’s. Ben felt he could collapse, right there in front of her, in a mixture of relief and exhaustion.