Bjorn! on the Fourth of July (A Barbara Marr Short Story) (3 page)

The crowd roared. I hadn't read any of Ms.
Cleveland's books, but I had seen the movies that were made from three of her
titles. Because she'd made a cameo appearance in all three, I recognized her
face easily. I couldn't wait to meet her in person and thank her for the great
seats.

Amber had placed her hat back on her head,
adjusted her cape, and was bouncing up and down in her seat, clapping and
hollering with the crowd.

"Are you prepared to be amazed?"
Vikki shouted.

"Yes, yes, yes, I'm ready!" Amber
shouted back along with half of Rustic Woods.

"Then let me waste no time in introducing
you..." She motioned with a hand toward stage left.
"To
Bjorn!
Give him a hand ladies and gentlemen!"

The excitement on Amber's face was so priceless
that I grabbed my cell phone from my purse during Bjorn's dramatic entrance so
I could snap a picture to remember that expression of sheer joy forever and
ever. She was my baby. Capturing these moments was crucial or they'd be lost. I
noticed, however, while framing and focusing, that the enthusiasm of the crowd
around me had waned. The twinkle in Amber's eyes was brilliant and the smile so
wide it practically cracked her face, but people around me were murmuring. I
snapped two perfect pictures,
then
turned back in my
seat to enjoy the show.

Uh oh.

Bjorn!
didn't
exactly look like his poster face. Poster
Bjorn!
was
a twenty-something, Swedish model with short, wavy blond hair, and a toothy
grin that melted ladies' hearts. The Bjorn on stage in front of us could have
been a model alright – a "before-shot" model for a weight loss
product or a miracle makeover cream. He was easily thirty years older than
Poster Bjorn!
with
a hefty pot belly and long stringy
hair that was far more gray than blond. And let's not forget that he wasn't
Swedish at all. At least he didn't sound Swedish. If I had to take a guess, I
would have said he hailed from somewhere between the Bronx and the Jersey Shore.

I bit my lip and held my breath, sneaking peeks
at Amber during the show. I winced when he made a rabbit appear from his empty
hat,
then
proceeded to drop the poor thing on its
head. And I groaned when his egg didn't turn into the dove as he'd promised.
Twice.
So, needless to say, I had to close my eyes when he
brought an assistant out on the stage, asked her to step into a large, round
basket through which he would drive a very long, very sharp sword. Thankfully,
for all involved, including the wary (by this time) spectators, that trick went
off without incident and the assistant lived to see another day. As Bjorn!
picked
up the pace, I'll admit, his skill improved and he
actually made me laugh once or twice – laughs that were intended – but
generally speaking, he did not produce magic like I'd never seen before. In
fact, I'd seen it all – many times. And in my mind, the show wasn't worth the
unpleasantness of the overbearing heat and humidity that had turned my curly
head of hair into an uncontrollable frizz bomb of sizeable magnitude.

Finally, it seemed like Bjorn was wrapping up
and we'd all be released to find relief in shade or an air-conditioned store,
when he said he had just one more amazing trick, but that he needed a volunteer
from the audience. Amber's hand shot up faster than I could slap it down.

"Pick me, pick me,
pick
me!" she shouted loudly, but quite adorably.

"Well, aren't you so cute in your
magician's cape and hat?" Bjorn!
shouted
down at
her. "What's your name little girl?"

I was thinking,
No, no, no, this can't be
happening. I can't let this man near my baby girl. What if he drops her on her
head like the rabbit?
I'm pretty sure I was shaking my head with a fair
amount of violence.

"I'm Amber. I want to be a magician just
like you and
Harriette
Houdini," she said,
beaming. "This is my mommy, Barb."

"Hello, Barb," Bjorn said. "Do
you mind if I borrow your daughter for a minute?"

"Uh..."

"Say yes, Mommy!" Amber shook me from
my fear-induced daze. "You'll be amazed, I promise."

"Uh..." I just couldn't make a
decision that seemed logical and easy enough to make. It wasn't like I'd ever
heard of any freak magic show volunteer accidents before. Of course, I'm a mom
and we anticipate the worst. And the worst in this case, was that Amber would
be the first. Moms specialize in dreaming up worst case scenarios and of all
moms in
all the
world, I probably ranked among the
best and brightest.

"What do you say, Barb?" Bjorn
bellowed. "Let this little future magician be a part of the show."

What did I want to say? Well, I wanted to say,
No, you can't have her. But I couldn't say that. She had so much hope in her
eyes. Was I really going to crush her dreams?

"Can I come up with her?" I asked.

"I'd love it if you would! Come on up!
Give Amber and Barb some applause everyone!" He instructed a security
guard on the ground to help us up the stairs to the stage.

Once we made our way to Bjorn and the
microphone, he shook our hands. "Now, Barb," he said, taking me by
the shoulders, "I'll need you to stand over here, out of the way."

Hey, I thought, I don't want to be out of the
way. I want to see everything that's happening.

"Don't worry," he added. "You'll
be able to see from here." He pointed to a white X on the stage far to his
left and told me to stand on it. With a good amount of trepidation, I did as
the man said. He hadn't impressed me through most of the show, but up close, he
seemed to be confident enough. The question was, was he competent enough?

"Now Amber, would you like to disappear
like a ghost and then reappear?"

She jumped up and down clapping with giddy
enthusiasm. He might as well have asked her if she wanted cake for breakfast,
lunch, and dinner.

On cue, the assistant appeared again with
drapes hanging from a long bar. When she and Bjorn began to unfurl the drapery,
it was apparent that the contraption wasn't a simple bar, but four bars connect
to form a square. Amber was instructed to step inside of the square, which she
did with a great deal of dramatic flair, I might add. She certainly had some actress
in her, that one. I, in the meantime, was biting my nails.

"Now, Amber, on the count of three, we
will raise these curtains above your head, and when we lower them, you will
have disappeared. Can you handle that?"

Her bright smile glowed and her head bobbed up
and down. She waved to me. "Bye, Mommy!"

I covered my mouth with my hands.

Bjorn shouted to the crowd. "Are you ready
folks?"

The crowded roared back an affirmative.

The assistant and Bjorn counted together.
"One!
Two! Three!" and up the curtains went. They
held the bars high, allowing the drapery to fall, just touching the ground
enough to hide all of Amber, including her feet. Bjorn, that butt, lied to me –
I couldn't see everything. I couldn't see Amber. Where did she go? I tried to
calm myself down. Of course she was still there, silly, I told myself. It's
simple illusion. He'd drop the curtains and the audience wouldn't be able to
see her, but I would, because it was just an optical trick.

They shouted out again.
"One!
Two! Three!" and dropped the bars and drapery revealing... nothing. Amber
was gone. If it was an optical illusion, it was a good one, because I couldn't
see her either. My heart rate kicked into double time.

"She's gone!" shouted Bjorn to the
audience. "Do you want me to bring her back?"

"Yes!" they all shouted back.

"How about you, Mom?
Would you like your daughter back?"

"Yes, please!" Do it quick, man. Do
it quick.

Up went the curtains. "So, what do you
think?" Bjorn asked the crowd. "Is Amber back?"

"Yes!"

"Do you want to see?"

"Yes!"

"Can I get a drum roll please?" The
speaker behind my left ear reverberated with the sound of a recorded drum roll.
"One!
Two! Three!" Bjorn and the assistant
threw down the curtains. The crowd roared. I nearly fainted.

Amber was still gone. He hadn't made her
reappear at all.

A scream rose from deep down in my stomach,
tore up my esophagus, over my vocal cords and erupted like Mount
St. Helens. "What did you do with my baby you half-baked
hack!
" I'd traveled from my white X to the middle of
the stage with seemingly no help from my feet and was now shouting (and even
spitting, I'm afraid to say) in Bjorn's face. "Get her back here
now!"

Bjorn, surprisingly unfazed by my outburst,
wiped my saliva from his eye just as a tiny voice from far away reached my
ears.

"Mommy!
Mommy!
I'm over here, Mommy!"

My head turned toward the sound, far out in the
audience. Then I saw her waving her arms madly... as she sat atop Howard's
shoulders.

He shrugged.

Bjorn stepped back to the microphone. "Welcome
back, Amber! You were a true magician today! Everyone, give Amber a standing
ovation!"

The entire audience rose to their feet and
stomped and clapped and hooted and hollered.

"Sorry I called you a hack," I
whispered in Bjorn's ear.

"I've been called worse," he said,
smiling.
"Much worse."

***

Yup.
I showed her that
poster.

The day was long and hot, and the road to see
Bjorn!
on
the Fourth of July was riddled with proverbial pot
holes, but in retrospect, did I regret it?

Not a bit. To see my daughter have the time of
her life
and
to receive a standing ovation to boot, I'd do it all again.

Oh, and yes – I
was
amazed.

The end.

Were you entertained?

For more laughs with Barbara Marr, try the
Barbara Marr Murder Mystery Series:

Take
the Monkeys and Run
(#1);
Citizen
Insane
(#2);
Silenced
by the Yams
(#3); and
Saturday
Night Cleaver
(#4)

Barbara Marr short stories:
The
Chronicles of Marr-
nia
,
It's a
Dunder
-Bull Wife
, and
A
Spirited Season
(containing one Barbara Marr Holiday Tale and another fun
short story by Karen Cantwell)

And if you like romantic comedies, try Karen
Cantwell's
Keep
Me Ghosted,
A
Sophie Rhodes Ghostly Romance
(#1)

Karen loves to hear from readers! Visit her
website at
KarenCantwell.com
for
her email address as well as more information about upcoming releases.

This short story is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are entirely the product of the author's
imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons (living or
dead) is purely coincidental.

Cover Art by Streetlight Graphics

"Bjorn!
on
the
Fourth of July"

Copyright © 2013 by Karen
Fraunfelder
Cantwell