Thaddeus lifted the tent flap behind the stage and peeked in. Fifty to sixty men and women sat in the folding chairs. It was certain to be a good take. He returned to his dressing room and shrugged his shoulders into his black suit jacket.

"Doctor Miracle, here's a letter for you," said a youthful voice.

He took the missive from the teen's hand. "Thank you, Sam. Will you check the bottles of elixir and make sure there's enough in the booth? Maybe bring an extra case. I feel it's going to be a lucrative night." He laughed a tinny sound as hollow as the promises of the elixir.

"Yessir."

Thaddeus glanced at the envelope's return address, and his breath hitched. There wasn't time. He was due on stage. Perspiration dotted his brow. He placed the envelope on his dressing table and gently touched his fingertip to her name. "Dora." His voice was a wistful whisper.

There was no time. Sam announced his name. He ran a comb through his tawny mane, then sprinted to the stage. His spiel was much practiced, and he had an eye for choosing the neediest person in the audience. He was a wizard, wielding a wand, conducting the show. The power flowed through him.

A scarecrow of a woman sat in the first row, and he called her up on stage, placing his hands on her head, and promising her good health and happiness. He manipulated the crowd and assured them of the efficacy of his tonic. As he ended his act, the lines formed at the booth. Yes, it would be a good night.

The letter awaited him, but he couldn't bring himself to open it. He'd run away, leaving Dora, knowing it would break her heart, but he had to escape, had to prove his father wrong, had to prove to himself that he was worth something.

Eight years it had been. The first five spent with the carnival. He'd started as nothing, feeding the animals, sweeping the golden way where all the attractions made fistfuls of money. In time, his attraction made the most. Why did he need to share? He could run his own show and keep all the proceeds.

He didn't realize how lonely his life would be. Traveling from town to town, a show every night. No camaraderie, no Dora. He picked up the letter and dropped it as if burned. His hand flew to his heart and rubbed. He hated cowardice and forced himself to open the letter.

Come home. It's time.
Love, Dora.

He covered his face with his hands and forced himself to breathe.

"Sir, I have the take."

He smiled at the awesome responsibility in the boy's voice, knowing the boy could follow in his footsteps.

"Thank you, Sam. Was it a good haul?"

"Yessir." The boy saluted and handed over the strongbox.

"Wait," Thaddeus said, as the boy turned to leave. "Take this." He handed Sam two twenties and watched as the boy's eyes turned to globes. "You're a good man, Sam. Take good care of the horses."

"Yessir."

It was a fifty-mile walk, and if he started now, he would be there in two days. He slipped out of his dressing room and into the night. No more regrets.