He smiles. “I suppose I should have asked you,” he says, but then he lowers to one knee. “Astrid, will you marry me?”
“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” I chide. There is faint laughter from the others. My mind whirls: I had not planned to get married again, to Peter or anyone else. Marriages are about forever, and there is nothing certain about that anymore. I had not planned for the baby or any of this either, though. Peter is kneeling before me, his face so hopeful. He wants to make us a family.
And so do I, I realize. I see then as if watching a movie my life with Peter since I had joined the Circus Neuhoff, how he has protected me, and how close we have grown day by day. The nights without him are empty and no space complete until he is there. Noa had been right, not just about Peter’s feelings, but mine. He had gotten into my heart when I wasn’t even looking. Part of me curses myself for letting it happen. At the same time, though, I would not want to go forward any other way.
That doesn’t change the reality of our situation—or the danger marrying me could bring to him. I lower my head to his. “Are you certain?” I whisper low, not wanting the others to hear. Though he stands in front of me, willing to risk everything, part of me still cannot believe it. How can he want to take this chance after all that he has been through?
He nods. “Never more so,” he replies, voice clear and unwavering.
“Then yes, I would love to marry you,” I say more loudly. I smile, batting back the tears that sting at my eyes.
Herr Neuhoff clears his throat. “Well, let’s get started,” he says as Peter stands. “There are few words to describe love in the least likely of places, which is also the most beautiful,” he begins, his voice a softer version of the sotto baritone he uses in the ring.
He opens a worn Bible and reads, “And Ruth said, ‘Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.’”
As he reads, my eyes drift upward to the canopy. To the onlookers, it is a simple bough of branches and leaves. But I know that Peter, himself not Jewish, has designed it as a chuppa in a silent concession to my family. I wish for my father to give me away, my brothers to hoist us high on chairs after as “Hava Nagila” plays, just like when Mathias and Markus had married the Hungarian horseback riders, Jewish sisters. I have done this before without them, of course, standing before a justice of the peace with Erich in Berlin. Then I pretended not to mind, thinking that my family would be there always. Now I feel longing and grief. I touch my stomach, thinking of the grandchild my parents will never know.
My missing family is not the only difference. Once when I had taken my vows with Erich, I had been young and unafraid. I had thought that nothing could touch us. Now I know that this union will not shield us from whatever lies ahead. Rather, it will make my burden Peter’s and his mine.
Peter is not young and naive either, though. I think of the wife and daughter he lost, who surely cannot be far from his mind today. Yet he has the courage to go forward, head lifted, eyes clear. For this, I love him more than ever.
Herr Neuhoff finishes the passage. “Peter, you have something you want to say?”
Peter pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and drops it. He stumbles as he bends to pick it up, his usual composure gone. His hand shakes, nervous as a young groom. “There is so little one can be certain of these days,” he begins, voice wobbly. “But finding a hand to hold while we walk this path makes even the most difficult of times better and the strangest of villages home.” Around us, heads nod. Each circus performer has a past, his or her own memories of a home. Then he crumples the paper and jams it back into his pocket, so abruptly I wonder if he is having second thoughts. “Once I thought my life was over. When I came to Germany and joined the circus, I never thought I would find happiness again.” His voice grows clear and strong as he abandons the words he had written and speaks from the heart. “And then I met you and it all changed. You made me believe again that good things were possible. I love you.” He looks down.
“Astrid, is there anything you want to say?” Herr Neuhoff asks.
Everyone is watching me expectantly. I had no idea and have nothing prepared. “It—it is hard to find a love you can trust,” I manage. I search for the words that I have not said until now, even to myself. “I am so very lucky. You make me feel stronger, every day. I can face whatever is to come as long as I am with you.”
“You are blessed indeed, Astrid and Peter, to have found one another,” Herr Neuhoff agrees, saving me from having to find further words. He turns to Peter. “Do you take this woman...” In Noa’s arms, Theo coos his approval and everyone chuckles.
Peter’s eyes are aglow as he places an antique metal band around my finger. Was it a family heirloom or something he had purchased just for today? “I now pronounce you man and wife,” Herr Neuhoff declares.
A great cheer arises from the onlookers as Peter kisses me and the musicians strike up a merry tune. Someone brings out a table and several bottles of champagne. Watching, I am touched by the details, the care with which the party has been planned. There are little trays of appetizers, simple foods made from rations that had been arranged to look grand.
“To your future together,” Herr Neuhoff proposes, raising a glass, and everyone toasts in agreement. I raise the glass to my lips.
The party breaks up into smaller groups, drinking and enjoying a bit of merriment. Impromptu, some of the Romanian acrobats begin to dance, twirling in circles with their brightly patterned scarves, sequined skirts flaring like pinwheels. I try to relax and enjoy the party, but the colors and noise are overwhelming after all that has happened. I lean wearily against one of the tables. Across the crowd, Peter shoots me a knowing smile.
Behind the dancers, something moves in the trees. I straighten and glimpse someone standing at the edge of the grove. Emmet, watching the party. I do not remember seeing him at the ceremony. He is Herr Neuhoff’s son, and it is only natural that he would have been invited. But his presence makes me uneasy.