The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern [156]
At the mention of Poppet’s name, Bailey glances over his shoulder at the wall of the tent. The suspended party seems farther away than just beyond the canvas stripes.
“We need your help with something,” Celia continues as he turns back. “We need you to take over the circus.”
“What?” Bailey asks. He is not sure what he was expecting, but it was not this.
“Right now the circus is in need of a new caretaker,” Marco says. “It is drifting, like a ship without an anchor. It needs someone to anchor it.”
“And that someone is me?” Bailey asks.
“We would like it to be, yes,” Celia says. “If you are willing to make the commitment. We should be able to assist you, and Poppet and Widget would be able to help, as well, but the true responsibility would be yours.”
“But I’m not … special,” Bailey says. “Not the way they are. I’m not anyone important.”
“I know,” Celia says. “You’re not destined or chosen, I wish I could tell you that you were if that would make it easier, but it’s not true. You’re in the right place at the right time, and you care enough to do what needs to be done. Sometimes that’s enough.”
As he watches her in the flickering light, it strikes Bailey suddenly that she is a fair deal older than she appears, and that the same is likely true of Marco. It is like realizing someone in a photograph is no longer the same age as they were when it was taken, and they seem farther away because of it. The circus itself feels far away, even though he stands within it. As though it is falling away from him.
“All right,” Bailey says, but Celia holds up a transparent hand to stop him before he agrees.
“Wait,” Celia says. “This is important. I want you to have something neither of us truly had. I want you to have a choice. You can agree to this or you can walk away. You are not obliged to help, and I don’t want you to feel that you are.”
“What happens if I walk away?” Bailey asks. Celia looks at Marco before she answers.
They only look at each other without speaking, but the gesture is so intimate that Bailey glances away, looking up at the twisting branches of the tree.
“It won’t last,” Celia says after a moment. She does not elaborate, turning back to Bailey as she continues. “I know this is a great deal to request from you, but I do not have anyone else to ask.”
Suddenly the candles on the tree begin to spark. Some of them darken, curls of smoke replacing the bright flames only momentarily before disappearing themselves.
Celia wavers, and for a moment Bailey thinks she might faint, but Marco steadies her.
“Celia, love,” Marco says, running his hand over her hair. “You are the strongest person I have ever known. You can hold on for a while longer, I know you can.”
“I’m sorry,” Celia says.
Bailey cannot tell which one of them she is speaking to.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Marco says.
Celia holds tightly to his hand.
“What would happen to the two of you, if the circus … stopped?” Bailey asks.
“Truthfully, I’m not entirely certain,” Celia says.
“Nothing good,” Marco mutters.
“What would you need me to do?” Bailey asks.
“I need you to finish something I started,” Celia says. “I … I acted rather impulsively and played my cards out of order. And now there is the matter of the bonfire as well.”
“The bonfire?” Bailey asks.
“Think of the circus as a machine,” Marco says. “The bonfire is one of the things that powers it.”
“There are two things that need to happen,” Celia says. “First, the bonfire needs to be lit. That will … power half the circus.”
“What about the other half?” Bailey asks.
“That’s more complicated,” Celia says. “I carry that with me. And I would have to give that to you.”
“Oh.”
“You would then carry it with you,” Celia says. “All of the time. You’d be tied very tightly to the circus itself. You could leave, but not for extended periods of time. I do not know if you would be able to give it to someone else. It would be yours. Always.”
It is only then that Bailey realizes the scope of the