Mr. Blossom the Balloonist

A small-town private investigator with a fear of heights and an impossible dream of being a balloonist falls in love with a circus trapeze artist.

At the top of a hill outside of Breezewood, there was a large field. It was so large that men standing on either end looked like ants to one another. So large that no child had yet been able to sprint the length of the field in under two minutes. So large that Breezwood High’s baseball team kept a record on the wall of who had, in the history of the team, come closest to hitting a baseball from one end of the field to the other. So large that it was used each year for a grand hot air balloon festival that drew spectators from all over the state.

But this is not a story about the field. This is a story about a man called Blossom who lived in a little cottage beside this field. 

Mr. Blossom was a private investigator, which means he was very good at following people and finding out secret things. Or, at least, he would have been if he didn’t live in such a small town. Usually, people knew they were being investigated as soon as they saw him coming. It is very difficult to catch someone doing something sneaky when he knows he is being watched by someone who is meant to catch him doing something sneaky. It also meant that it was very hard for Mr. Blossom to find friends. No one wants a friend who might be collecting a report on him for his overly-protective mother. 

So Mr. Blossom spent most nights reading in his armchair by his window. When his book became a bit slow, he would look at the field just beyond his window and think about his secret dream. 

Have you ever had a dream that seemed impossible, but just wouldn’t be shaken? 

Some dreams fly by like an airplane, large and loud and easy to forget. But other dreams steal into your heart and wrap their hands around your soul until they become so much a part of you that you can’t remember who you are without them. 

That was the sort of dream Mr. Blossom had.

Mr. Blossom was quite good at a number of things. He could speak three languages, recite the presidents in under a minute, and mend his own clothes, to name a few. But if you’ve ever had a pesky dream like the one in Mr. Blossom’s soul, you’ll know that nothing really matters until you’ve reached your goal. 

Can you guess what Mr. Blossom’s secret dream was? 

When he looked longingly at the field outside his house, he was thinking about flying his own balloon at the festival. Not such a hard dream, you might argue, but it was an impossible one for our friend because he also had a pesky fear. 

Fears are sneaky, underhanded little creatures who make friends with lies and cheaters, and I’m sure you know what Mr. Blossom’s fear was like�"the kind of fear that crept along the corridor and whispered in Mr. Blossom’s ear, telling him all sorts of nasty things about how he’d never amount to anything. It’s hard to say where this particular fear came from�"that’s how sneaky they are�"but it managed to do its dirty work quite successfully. Mr. Blossom truly believed he’d never fly a balloon because his fear had taught him that heights were horrifying.

The night on which our story begins was no different from any other. Mr. Blossom sat in his chair by the window, reading. His mind wouldn’t focus on the story, however, because his thoughts kept drifting to the field beyond the window. The annual balloonist and aeronautical festival was in one week and preparations were well underway. The field had been carefully mowed and poles erected to hold the festival flags. A great sign at the edge of the field showed a man flying high above sloping hills in his brightly painted hot air balloon. 

But Mr. Blossom’s heart was especially heavy, as it was every year at this time. Another festival would soon pass with him a lonely spectator still anchored to the ground. 

“If only I could forget about this silly fear or mine,” he said to himself. Filled with a sudden resolve, he jumped from his chair, his book tumbling to the ground. “I shall try the ladder one more time.”

Mr. Blossom had a floor-to-ceiling bookcase with a ladder to reach the higher shelves. There was nothing on these shelves, of course, as he’d never been brave enough to actually climb the steps, but every now and again, he made his best attempt to descend the frightening structure. Tonight, he tried again.

He gripped the wooden beams in his hand and set one foot on the first wrung. Deep breath… and lift… But… he couldn’t do it. There was nothing waiting for him at the top, nothing to lift his heavy feet off the ground. 

The next morning, Mr. Blossom started his short walk to his office, determinedly ignoring the decorated field. But in Breezewood, festival flags hung in every store window and balloons had been painted onto the sidewalks.

“Oh, bother,” said Mr. Blossom. “The situation is quite hopeless.”

“It is what I feared!”

Mrs. Agnes Peabody’s voice startled Mr. Blossom from his woeful thoughts. 

“Pardon?” he said, whirling around in confusion.

Mrs. Peabody was standing outside his office door, evidently waiting for him to unlock it.

“You said the situation was quite hopeless, which is what I feared,” she explained.

Mr. Blossom hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, nor that anyone had been listening.

“It’s my Andy, see, Mr. Blossom,” Mrs. Peabody continued, not waiting for his answer. 

The poor private investigator found it very difficult to unlock the door with this anxious woman crowding him, but Mrs. Peabody didn’t seem to notice his awkwardness with the keys.

“He’s been awful shifty lately.”

That was how they always began, these worried mothers, wives, husbands, and siblings. No real evidence, just general “shiftiness.”

“Just last night,” the woman pushed her way into the now unlocked office, “he didn’t come home until after midnight�"after midnight! Can you imagine?�"and when I asked him where he’d been, he only said, ‘Out.’ Well! And just what is ‘out’ supposed to mean? But he’d give me no answers. Something’s off, I tell you, Mr. Blossom. I’ll take a cup of tea if you’re offering,” she added.

He wasn’t offering. But now he couldn’t think of a graceful way to refuse her.

Now that they were in the tiny one-room office, Mr. Blossom was reminded that he’d left his copy of The Balanced Balloonist sitting on his desk�"how very embarrassing. Mrs. Peabody eyeballed it at once.

“Participating in the festival this year?” she said. 

“Ah… no. No, just, uh…” he coughed. “Just doing some research. A case, you know.”

Mrs. Peabody’s interest was instantly piqued. “A case? What case?”

The situation was becoming unbearably awkward. “Oh, private business, unfortunately, as all my cases are. But Andy�"tell me more about that, Mrs. Peabody.”

“And the tea,” she reminded him.

He lit a match to yesterday’s newspaper in the fireplace and set the tea kettle on the small iron grate atop the flames. 

“Take a seat, Mrs. Peabody,” he said, determined to recover his confidence as a host.

She took the only available chair�"the other two were buried under stacks of books�"and squinted again at the book on Mr. Blossom’s desk.

“I wish you’d follow him a bit, Mr. Blossom. Just until we know for certain he’s not getting into any… funny business.”

“I can follow him,” he said. “But my fee is $5.00 an hour.” 

Mrs. Peabody made a show of shock at the price, but she had agreed to it by the time the kettle began to whistle.

Mr. Blossom did not, in fact, have any other cases, so following Andy Peabody became his first priority. It proved to be an easy one. The young man was apparently unaware that his mother had grown suspicious, so Mr. Blossom had only to wait outside Breezewood High until Andy appeared, and then it was simply a matter of tailing him to his next destination.

This was Mr. Blossom’s first clue that the youngster was above suspicion. Guilty people looked over their shoulders to check for followers far more frequently than innocent ones did. So Mr. Blossom was able to follow Andy quite easily straight to… the circus. 

Barnum & Bailey had arrived in Breezwood three weeks ago for an extended stop on their tour around the country. Mr. Blossom watched Andy Peabody greet the ticket collector and enter the circus grounds without paying. So the young man was familiar enough with the troupe to be admitted for free. Interesting. 

Mr. Blossom, however, was not familiar with the troupe, and was forced to purchase a ticket if he was going to follow Andy any further. 

“That young man who just entered,” Mr. Blossom said to the ticket collector as he fished in his pocket for money, “do you know him?”

The old man scratched his head. “What, Andy? I know him. $5.00 a ticket, sir.”

Well, there was one hour’s pay from Mrs. Peabody lost on a circus ticket. 

“Do you know where I can find him here?” Mr. Blossom asked.

The collector handed him red ticket. “Couldn’t say. You might check the tents, but otherwise, he could be anywhere.”

Checking the tents seemed as good a plan as any. There were six of them�"large, white domes with foreign noises coming from them. He had a job getting to the first of them because the grounds were thick with circus-goers swarming to and from each attraction, their arms full of sweets and prizes. Clowns mingled with the patrons, juggling and miming, while “The World’s Strongest Man” lifted barbells high above his head and a bearded lady posed beside him. It would not be easy to find the boy in this crowd. 

When he’d pushed his way to the first tent, Mr. Blossom lifted the flap and slipped inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in light. A man in medieval armor was performing tricks atop a galloping horse. There were at least a hundred spectators, but none looked like Andy, so Mr. Blossom decided not to waste his time. He rejoined the throng outside and hurried to the next tent. 

In this second one, a lion tamer in a gladiator costume was playing games with several enormous tigers while an ancient male lion waited on a golden stool. Here, too, there were many people, but no Andy.

Nor was Andy in the tent with motorcyclists racing inside a giant metal globe, or the tent where farm animals and puppies were jumping through hoops.

But as Mr. Blossom left the fifth tent�"a bejeweled young lady riding an elephant�"he finally had a bit of luck. He spotted the back of Andy’s shirt, entering the last tent. The investigator nearly ran to catch the youngster, doing his best to dart in between people and bits of trash on the ground. He reached the tent with little air left in his lungs, threw back the flap, pushed his way inside, and�"

There, high above him, he beheld the most incredible sight. A young woman was perched inside a large hoop attached to a rope in the ceiling. As Mr. Blossom watched, she fell backwards and caught herself with her knees, hanging upside down from the hoop. As she flew through the air, her blue leotard shimmered in the light and her dark curls swung loosely below her. Now, she flipped herself back up to the top of the hoop, to which she clung with both hands while she did a forward split. She moved with such grace and ease that she might have been a puppet, controlled by strings from above. 

Mr. Blossom might have forgotten all about his case�"indeed, he might have forgotten that anything existed outside of this vision of perfection�"if someone hadn’t placed a hand on his arm at that moment. Mr. Blossom had to tear his eyes away to see who had touched him.

It was Andy.

“You’ve been following me,” the boy said.

Mr. Blossom didn’t like how sure he sounded. “I have not been. I simply felt like an afternoon at the circus.”

“Oh, come off it, Mr. Blossom. You’ve been following me and that’s that.”

The investigator would have tried a bit harder to deny it, but he’d always been a shabby liar and, at that very moment, he was distracted by the trapeze artist, who’d just done a particularly impressive pirouette. She let go of the hoop with one hand and dangled, turning a full circle so that the entire crowd gasped in fear. Mr. Blossom couldn’t be expected to think of a good lie with an angel performing gravity-defying stunts above him.

Andy must have noticed his look. “Whaddya think of that, eh, sir? Impressive, isn’t it?”

“Impressive?” Mr. Blossom exploded in spite of himself. “Impressive? It’s nothing short of miraculous! She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld. She is life-changing, world-altering, heart-stopping. She is�"” he stopped short. “Now, wait, just a moment, young man. Don’t think you can distract me from my accusations. 

Andy pointed a finger at the investigator. “You weren’t making accusations. I was.”

“Ah, right, well…” It was the second awkward situation of the day. Complete honesty was probably the only option now. “In short, it’s true. I was following you. But now, I’ll have a clear explanation of just what you think you’re doing, worrying your mother half to death.” Mr. Blossom meant to cross his arms and look imposing, but the trapeze artist was landing behind Andy. 

The boy gave Mr. Blossom a cheeky grin. “Say, would you like to meet her?” he asked.

“Meet her? Do you know�"no, no, wait, I see what you’re doing.” But Mr. Blossom found the idea of meeting the new love of his life so attractive that he was tempted to give up on this case altogether, though he’d never dropped a case before. 

The trapeze artist was bowing.

“Look, Mr. Blossom, I’ll be honest,” Andy said, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd’s applause. “I’ve been out late the past few weeks because I’ve been helping out here. Nothing too important�"just cleaning the animal cages and the like�"but I haven’t told my mom because she always worried so. The truth is, I’ve been asked to say on�"travel with the troupe, I mean, and I can’t see her taking kindly to the notion. So I can’t tell her just yet. Not till I’ve worked out a way to break it to her and convince her.”

Mr. Blossom listened to the story and couldn’t help feeling sorry for the boy. He only wanted to grow up, was all. But Mr. Blossom was on a case and he had standards to uphold.

“I understand, young man, but I’ve promised your mother and I don’t think�"”

“What if we come to some sort of deal?” Andy interrupted.

Mr. Blossom cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t make deals about this sort of�"”

“Mr. Blossom, if you give me just one week of silence, I’ll introduce you to that acrobat you fancy so much. Just give me until the balloon festival. The troupe is doing a special performance at the festival and I think if my mom sees it, she’ll be convinced.”

It was the only offer that could have possibly gotten Mr. Blossom’s attention.

“You can still tell her in the end,” Andy continued. “I’m only asking you to wait a bit.”

Yes, it was very hard to refuse indeed.

“But I can’t meet her,” Mr. Blossom finally admitted, shutting his eyes in shame. 

“Whyever not?” 

“Because… because I’d be too embarrassed.”

“Oh, come now, Mr. Blossom. If we found you some new clothes and fixed your hair a bit, I’m sure you wouldn’t look half bad.”

“New clothes? Different hair? What’s wrong with them?” Mr. Blossom asked, offended. “It’s not about that, anyway.”

“About what, then?”

Oh, the shame! “It’s just… I’m a bit afraid of heights.”

“Is that all?” Andy said. “That’s no�"”

“Terrified, actually,” Mr. Blossom continued. “Terrified of heights and I want more than anything to fly my own balloon at the festival, but I’ll never be able to. How can such a coward as I ever meet an angel like her?” The investigator’s eyes were shut again and he didn’t dare open them to see Andy’s reaction. To his surprise, however, all he heard was laughter. 

“You’re at the circus, Mr. Blossom! A whole troupe of oddities who can help you get over your fear! Let’s amend our deal�"one week, Mr. Blossom. In one week’s time, you can tell my mom about the circus and by that time, we’ll have taught you how to handle heights. Then, you’ll be all ready to meet Rose.” 

Mr. Blossom’s eyes flew open. “Who?”

“That’s her name�"Rose.”

And that was how the deal between Andy and Mr. Blossom was made.

Mrs. Peabody stopped by Mr. Blossom’s office the next morning. He was reading his balloonist book again and had to quickly slip it inside his desk when she arrived. She didn’t beat around the bush this time.

“Have you any tea, Mr. Blossom?” she said. “And then you can tell me what you’ve discovered.”

He had worked out a story for her, thinking she’d probably want an update, but he couldn’t give her tea because then she’d linger and he’d have to continue the charade for an uncomfortably long time. He already felt guilty about lying and he knew he wasn’t good at it. He couldn’t stand it if she wanted to stay and chat. 

“I’ll save you time, Mrs. Peabody,” he said. “I followed Andy to Sherman’s Grocery Store yesterday and waited for him outside, but he never came out. He must have gone out a back door.”

“Sherman’s?” She pushed the books off of one of his chairs and sat down. “But why would he go there? I didn’t send him on any errands. And how long did you wait? Maybe he was still inside all along.”

Sherman’s was the most frequently visited store in Breezewood. Mr. Blossom had chosen it specifically in the hope that Mrs. Peabody wouldn’t be suspicious of it. But it seemed she was determined to be suspicious of her son no matter what. 

“Well, I don’t know why he was there, Mrs. Peabody,” he said. “I didn’t ask him, did I? But I must have waited a good hour.”

“An hour? Are you sure?”

Mr. Blossom was growing more uncomfortable with each passing minute. What would she say if she figured him out? His professional reputation would be ruined! He hadn’t thought of that. He’d have to tell Andy he just couldn’t do it, that was all. 

But then Mrs. Peabody stood up. “Well, I’m sure you did your best, Mr. Blossom,” she said in a kind voice. “We’ll just have to keep trying. Perhaps another day of it?”

Mr. Blossom’s heart sank. He wished she would just drop this silly case altogether. “Alright, Mrs. Peabody,” he agreed. “I’ll try again this afternoon.” 

“Excellent,” she said. “Now, how about some tea before I go?”

“Fear Conquering Lessons,” as Andy called them, began promptly the following afternoon at 4:00, when Andy’s school day ended. The first step was climbing a ladder. Andy seemed to think this goal could be met easily and Mr. Blossom didn’t like to discourage him. 

“Okay, so, you just put your foot on the first rung there,” Andy said when the ladder had been set up behind the smelly horse’s tent, “and I’ll hold it steady, and you just sort of… go for it.”

Mr. Blossom gripped the ladder obediently and placed his foot on the first rung, but his other foot didn’t even make it a full inch off the ground before his legs turned to jelly. He slipped back to the ground, panting a bit from the pressure.

“I can’t do it, lad.” He didn’t want to disappoint his new friend, but there was no denying the certain truth. “I just don’t have the courage,” he said.

But Andy was not yet discouraged. “No, no, you’re thinking about this all wrong! If you keep saying, ‘I can’t do it,’ of course you’ll never do it. You’ve got to believe in yourself, Mr. Blossom!”

The investigator sat on an upturned bucket and hid his face in his hands. “But that’s just it.” His moaning voice was muffled. “I don’t believe in myself.”

Andy crossed his arms and considered for a moment. “I may be out of my depth here,” he finally agreed. “I think I’m going to need some help.

Most of the circus members were busy with their acts, but Andy was able to recruit “The World’s Strongest Man” and the bearded lady to help with the lessons. “The World’s Strongest Man” (who was really called Bernard and spoke with a refined English accent that was quite different from the thick Russian one he donned for the patrons) had the brilliant idea of simply lifting Mr. Blossom to the top of the ladder. The bearded lady�"Ella, a sweet Southern woman�"couldn’t think of much to contribute, but she was awfully encouraging. 

“Now, on the count of three,” Ella said, “Bernard will lift you up. Alright, ready now? One, two,”

Bernard steadied himself behind Mr. Blossom with his hands on the other man’s waist. Mr. Blossom shut his eyes tightly.

“Three!” Ella called.

And up into the air went Mr. Blossom, hoisted high in Bernard’s strong grip. But the minute the investigator’s feet left the ground, his eyes flew open and he took in the sight of the world spinning around him.

“Oh, no… I don’t like this. No, not at all. No, put me down! Put me down, Bernard. Oh, please, put me down!” Mr. Blossom began to complain so loudly that a few circus-goers sprinted to the scene, assumed Mr. Blossom was being attacked by “The World’s Strongest Man,” and went to inform the authorities.

Needless to say, the first day was not a success.

When Mr. Blossom arrived at the circus for the second day of lessons, he found that Andy had already recruited another helper. Esteban, one of the motorcycle stuntmen, stood waiting with an idea.

“I think you’re scared,” he said to Mr. Blossom, “because you’re going too slowly. If we strap you on to the back of my motorbike, I can drive you right up to the top of our metal racing globe before you even realize what’s happened. And we’ll be back down at the ground again before you can even think of being afraid. It’s full-proof!”

Mr. Blossom could think of several objections to this plan, starting with the fact that he obviously couldn’t ride a motorcycle inside of a hot air balloon, but he decide to give it a try. If it worked, maybe it would be the first step toward climbing the ladder.

When Mr. Blossom was all strapped onto the motorcycle, Esteban gripped the throttle tightly and revved the engine.

“Ready, Mr. Blossom?” the stuntman called over his shoulder.

But any response would have been swallowed by the engine’s roar and Mr. Blossom was too focused on his imminent death anyway.

Esteban shot off, covering the length of the tent floor and made a full loop across the top of the racing globe in about ten seconds. He slammed to a stop beside Andy and threw his helmut off.

“You’ve done it, Mr. Blossom! You’re on your way to�"”

But when Esteban turned to look at the private investigator, he found that the second seat empty. There sat Mr. Blossom, a bit dazed, looking up at the motorcycle driver from the ground.

“I unbuckled myself and let go,” he said. “As soon as you started the engine�"I couldn’t do it.”

Esteban was speechless. 

On the third day, one of the farm animal trainers�"Clement�"agreed to help. 

“We’ve coaxed hundreds of puppies up ladders,” he told Mr. Blossom. “How hard can this be?”

“But puppies will go anywhere for a treat,” Mr. Blossom said.

“And so will humans,” Clement said. “How do you feel about apple pie, Mr. Blossom?”

This was the most laughable plan yet. Mr. Blossom didn’t like to make the man feel bad, but apple pie was not going to get him up that ladder. Nevertheless, Clement climbed to the top, confident in his plan, and waited with the pie in his lap. 

“Come on, Mr. Blossom,” he called. “Climb one wrung and I’ll give you a whole slice.”

The investigator looked up at him doubtfully. “Sorry, Clement, but pie isn’t going to get me up there.” 

“This is the best apple pie you’ve ever had, Mr. Blossom,” the trainer argued. “It’s the circus’s own special recipe.”

Mr. Blossom only shook his head. “It’s still not getting me up the ladder.”

It was, however, good enough to attract the swarm of puppies. Before the trainer could offer another argument, twelve puppies of various shapes and sizes pushed past Mr. Blossom and fought their way up the ladder, each struggling to be the first one up.

“No, no, blasted puppies!” Clement yelled. “What do you think you’re doing? I said no!” 

Pie was too much of a temptation for them, though. 

“Well, this was the worst day yet, Mr. Blossom,” Andy confessed. “But I’ve got one more person we can try.”

In the meantime, Mrs. Peabody continued to come by each day, eager for news, and Mr. Blossom continued to tell her different stories each time. He’d lost Andy at the movie theater, Andy hadn’t even come out of school, Andy had gone to the park and just read for hours, etc. And each time he lied, he felt guiltier and guiltier, but now he was too far into it to back out. After all, the week was more than halfway over and they’d worked so hard. He didn’t like to waste their efforts. 

On the fourth day, Andy said he had something special planned. 

“I’ve moved the ladder to the lion tent,” he said.

“The lion tent?” Mr. Blossom repeated. “Are there any lions there?” 

Andy laughed. “Well, that’s sort of the purpose, isn’t it? But Leo’s going to help us.”

Mr. Blossom was decidedly not comfortable with a tent full of lions. “Who’s Leo?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded braver than he felt.

“The lion tamer, of course,” Andy explained over his shoulder. He was already heading toward the abandoned tent. “He’s very busy usually, and a bit spoiled around here, but I told him about the lessons and he said he’d help for an hour.”

They’d reached the tent flap by this point and Andy was already halfway through it. He waved a hand toward Mr. Blossom and then disappeared inside. Mr. Blossom bravely attempted to follow him, but stopped dead in the entryway.

“Come in, come in,” came an impatient voice from inside. “I haven’t got all day!”

But coming in was the difficult part. Three large tigers and the old male lion Mr. Blossom had seen in the show a few days ago sat waiting right across from the entrance. Leo stood next to them in his gladiator costume.

“They won’t hurt you,” he called. “They’re very obedient.”

“But how can you be sure?” Mr. Blossom said, his voice trembling. 

“I am the best lion tamer in the world,” Leo insisted. “My animals do exactly as I say.”

“Always?”

“Always. Are you coming in or not?”

It was too bad, Mr. Blossom thought afterward, that his goal hadn’t been to conquer a fear of wild animals, because that was one he met in that moment. Or at least, started to meet. 

Leo, the lion tamer, was convinced that Mr. Blossom hadn’t climbed the ladder because he hadn’t had proper incentive. 

“You’re afraid of heights, yes? But people will do a great many silly things out of fear. You will not climb a ladder�"a thing little children can do with no trouble�"because you have a great fear. Well, what if something else was even scarier?” Leo said. He was fond of making great speeches, as though he lived his entire life in front of an audience. 

“What do you mean, scarier?” Mr. Blossom asked. He was keeping a close eye on the animals, no matter what Leo said.

“You don’t seem too comfortable with my pets,” Leo went on. “Wouldn’t you be scared to have them surrounding you, pawing at you, considering you for dinner?”

It seemed like a trick question. 

“Yes?”

“Show some confidence in your answers!” Leo yelled.

Mr. Blossom jumped. “Yes, it would scare me,” he said. 

“Then, let’s see if it will send you up the ladder.”

And before he could respond, Leo had taken three great strides toward his cats, whip in hand. 

“Alright, Felix!” he yelled, flicking the whip in front of the lion. “Good boy. Come on Gigi, come on Pinto, come on Daisy!” The cats leapt to their feet in response. 

“Uh, Leo? I’m not sure… Leo?” Mr. Blossom could no longer make the words come out. His lips opened and closed in silence as the four giant animals circled him. 

“Better climb that ladder, my friend,” Leo whispered, joining the circle of prowling cats.

Mr. Blossom backed up until his right foot bumped the legs of the ladder. “But they can climb too,” he pointed out.

“They won’t,” Leo said. He flicked his whip again. “They’re under strict orders from me, remember?”

“Then call them off!”

“Not until you climb that ladder!”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can!”

It might have continued like this for some time if the enormous lion hadn’t, at that very moment, given a wide-mouthed yawn and slowly sat right in front of Mr. Blossom. Then, he slid to a lounging position and lay stretched out in contentment. The three tigers, apparently inspired, came to a halt and sat as well.

“What are you doing?” Leo roared. But when he flicked the whip in front of the lion, the cat only pawed at it lazily and rolled away from him. Any hint of true wilderness had long been tamed out of him. 

Mr. Blossom felt his heart slow to a regular pace again, but he couldn’t feel too relieved when that dreaded ladder still remained unclimbed behind him. 

“It’s no use, Andy,” he said to the youngster who had been silently watching the entire scene. “I’ll never do it.” 

Andy shook his head. “You’re not believing in yourself, Mr. Blossom! You’ve got to have some confidence. Listen, we’ve got two more days before the festival�"”

“The festival?” Mr. Blossom exploded. “I can’t even climb a ladder! How am I supposed to get a balloon off the ground? And anyway, all I care about now is Rose, and there’s no way I can face her after all this.”

“That’s no way to talk, Mr. Blossom�"”

“Haven’t you been watching, Andy?” Mr. Blossom interrupted again, shaking his head in frustration. “I’m a failure.”

He couldn’t stand to hear another encouraging word from the young lad. Instead, he turned and fled, determined not to return anymore.

Mr. Blossom was discouraged enough to stay away for a whole day, and because he didn’t think he could face Mrs. Peabody in this state either, he didn’t even go to his office. But staying home proved to be an even more discouraging choice. The field outside his window was now fully prepared for the festival in just two days. Mr. Blossom would have liked to just read in his chair and forget about his troubles for a moment, but his front yard was alive with activity. Men and women from all around the state had arrived early and were busy inspecting the field, testing their own balloons, and socializing with friends made at previous aeronautical festivals. For Mr. Blossom, it was like being made to watch strangers open your birthday gifts and eat your cake while you are forced to sit in the rain on the other side of the window. In fact, it was so troubling that it renewed his resolve. He simply must try one more day of Andy’s lessons.

On the sixth day�"the last day before the festival�"Mr. Blossom arrived at the circus right on time for lessons, but this time, Andy was nowhere to be found. Mr. Blossom searched each tent, wondering if the boy had found some other occupation today because his pupil hadn’t shown the day before. This was a highly distressing thought, as Mr. Blossom had almost managed to convince himself that today would be the day of his success. The private investigator was so distracted by his search for Andy that he hardly realized which tent he had entered.

“Oh, he must be here somewhere!” he said to himself.

“Who must be?”

A sweet�"in fact, the sweetest�"musical voice, more like the sound of a contented sigh than an actual person, answered. Mr. Blossom whirled in surprise. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, and who on earth possessed that incredible�"

But he need hardly have guessed. Who else could it have been?

There at the entrance to the trapeze tent�"for it was the trapeze tent into which he’d stumbled�"stood the object of his every dream and desire. The one thing�"the one person�"who had managed to take a higher place in his heart than his dream of flying a balloon. Or perhaps, she’d only made his dreams even more pressing. Since seeing her, he’d begun to think he was nothing if he couldn’t conquer his fears. 

“Mr. Blossom, isn't it?” she spoke again.

Mr. Blossom realized his mouth was still hanging open. “You know me?” he managed to sputter.

“Know you?” She laughed. “It seems like the entire circus can talk of no one else.”

Oh, Heaven! What a voice! What a laugh! Mr. Blossom was sure no choir of angels could sound any lovelier. 

“I was hoping I’d meet you,” she went on. 

It was difficult to make out actual words because of the sweet music he heard when she spoke. 

“I’ve heard so much about this challenge you’ve undertaken.”

The sweet music stopped. “Oh, but that spoils everything!” Mr. Blossom cried before he could stop himself.

She looked startled. “What on earth do you mean?”

Well, now he’d done it. He’d as good as admitted the whole thing to her. And he couldn’t lie about it�"not to Rose. Lying to Mrs. Peabody was bad enough. He couldn’t lie to the woman of his dreams.

Mr. Blossom sighed deeply�"the sigh of a troubled soul. “It’s an awfully long story,” he said, “and, truth be told, it’s also just a plain awful story.”

Rose sat cross-legged on the ground and patted the space across from her. “I would so like to hear it, Mr. Blossom,” she said.

How could he ever refuse her anything? 

So Mr. Blossom joined Rose on the ground and told her the entire long, awful, humiliating tale of his cowardice, his case, his deception, and his ultimate failure. And, of course, he had to tell her the…other part…you know…the love bit. For that part of the story, he stared at his hands because he couldn’t look at her.

“Oh, Mr. Blossom,” said Rose when he’d finally finished. He still couldn’t look up from his tightly clenched hands, but Rose reached across and placed hers on top of his. “Mr. Blossom,” she said again, “what gave you the silly idea that you had to climb up high to find me? Don’t you know? I noticed you right where you stood with your two feet on the ground.” 

Could it really be? Was he hearing her correctly? Had she really�"from such a great height�"seen little old him down there on the ground? 

“But…you don’t think I’m a coward?” he asked.

Rose laughed. “I think you ought to tell your silly fear what’s what, but I certainly don’t think you’re a coward. Look how hard you’ve worked!  

“Oh, but Rose!” Mr. Blossom cried. “Haven’t you been listening? I’ve made a mess of everything!”

“Yes, it’s true that you weren’t very honest,” she agreed. “You’ve let your fear get the best of you, Mr. Blossom. But you haven’t done anything that can’t be fixed. Tomorrow at the festival, I think you need to tell Mrs. Peabody the truth.”

Mr. Blossom nodded. This did seem like the right thing to do, and Andy had promised to admit the truth tomorrow anyway. “But what about my dream?” he said.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Blossom, but I don’t think you can learn to fly a balloon by tomorrow morning,” Rose said. “However, I do think you are ready for your Fear Conquering final exam!”

“What, now?” he sputtered. 

“Have you a better time? All you need is proper motivation and a bit of encouragement.”

All the old reservations were returning, despite Rose’s wondrous presence. But the beautiful acrobat shined a light from within her that left no shadowed corners for sneaky fears to lurk.

“Come on, Mr. Blossom!” she called. She’d already ascended the ladder and was reaching for the hoop that hung from the ceiling. She held onto it with one hand and looked back at him with an irresistible smile. “Wouldn’t you like to see the world from my perspective?” she said.

His feet were moving of their own accord, beckoned by that carefree voice and joyful smile. He gripped the ladder in both hands and lifted his right foot off the ground to rest it on the first wrung.

“A little further now!” Rose said.

He might have frozen there, with one foot up and one foot down, if Rose hadn’t thrown her hand to him at that moment. He grabbed it tightly with his own and lifted his left foot onto the ladder.

“That’s it!” said Rose. 

She gave him a tug and up he rose to the next wrung. Only five more to go! Another tug and up he went! And another! And another! And… they climbed onto the hoop together, each holding the top with one hand, while the other two hands stayed locked together.

“Now I’ll show you�"I already know how to fly,” she said into his ear.

Rose kicked off from the ladder and they went sailing through the air. The rush made a whistling in Mr. Blossom’s ears and gave him a funny feeling in his stomach, but he hadn’t thought for a moment about the height. He was too busy concentrating on Rose’s gentle fingers in his palm. And then they were rushing back again in the opposite direction, gravity carrying them to and fro across the tent.  

“You’ve done it, Mr. Blossom,” Rose whispered. 

The morning of the annual Balloonist and Aeronautical Festival dawned sunny and clear�"not a cloud in sight. It was perfect weather for flying. Mr. Blossom couldn’t wait to see Rose, who had promised to share a picnic with him after her circus act finished, but he also knew that telling Mrs. Peabody about his lie would not be quite so happy an experience.

She was the last person he wanted to see, so naturally, he nearly bumped into her the moment he stepped out of his front door. Things often work out that way, you see�"you are given a chance to face the very thing you are dreading most so that you can stop dreading it at once.

“Mr. Blossom!” Mrs. Peabody was already scolding him and he hadn’t even begun talking yet. “Where were you the other day? I came by your office and the door was locked!”

For a moment, Mr. Blossom was tempted to say he’d been ill, but that would have been another lie and he’d told too many already.

“I was at home,” he answered truthfully.

“At home?” she repeated in astonishment. “What about your job?”

“I didn’t have the heart to face things,” he said. 

Behind Mrs. Peabody, a magnificent red and white balloon was taking off. Several faces peered over the rim of the basket while the operator lit the fire.

“Is it that bad?” she asked. “With Andy, I mean.”

Mr. Blossom refocused his attention on her anxious, upturned face. “No, it’s not bad at all, Mrs. Peabody,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve done something bad.” He heaved a great sigh. “The truth is, I’ve known where Andy’s been going all along. I discovered it on the first day, but I didn’t tell you.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Whyever not?” she asked. He could hear how hurt she was in her voice.

“Because he asked me not to. He wasn’t ready to tell you yet. I should have told you to just talk to him about it, but instead, I kept his secret for him and lied to you in the meantime.”

“But what could possibly be so bad that he couldn’t tell me?”

No more balloons were taking off behind her. Instead, a few burly men were rolling in a huge trampoline, while several others set up two large ladders with a tight rope strung between them. In the distance, Mr. Blossom could see Leo pushing an enormous cage and Clement was warming up his puppies. Bernard�"“The World’s Strongest Man”�"caught Mr. Blossom’s eye from across the field and gave him a jovial wave. Rose stood beside him, beaming. The circus troupe had arrived.

“He couldn’t tell you, Mrs. Peabody, because he thought it would be better if he showed you instead.” Mr. Blossom said, his confidence suddenly restored.

“What�"” But she was interrupted.

“Ladies and gentlemen, festival-goers of all ages!” The ringleader’s voice, amplified by a megaphone, echoed across the field. “Gather round as the world-famous Barnum & Bailey performers delight you with their unique talents! We have acrobats! We have dog trainers! We even have a lion tamer! But first�"allow my miraculous performers to dazzle you with their nail-bitingly dangerous, impossibly synchronized, death-defying stunts on their motorcycles!”

And there, at the top of a giant ramp that had been set up in the middle of the field, just behind Esteban, hand gripping the clutch of his very own black motorbike, sat Andy. 

“Is that�"is that�"oh my! Andy!” Mrs. Peabody cried. 

No one besides Mr. Blossom heard her above the deafening growls of the bikes. And then, they were off, all ten of them! There was no metal cage this time, but the performers didn’t need the globe to show off. They descended the great ramp and ascended the other side, picking up so much speed that they were able to flip in the air before landing and repeating the trick.

It was a tense five minutes in which each jump and twist elicited a terrified shriek or appreciate gasp from Mrs. Peabody. She had never known her son could even ride a motorcycle, let alone navigate one alongside a troupe of professional drivers. 

When the performance was over, Mrs. Peabody turned to Mr. Blossom with wide eyes. 

“Now, I know what you must be thinking�"” he started to say, anticipating her anger.

But she held up her hand to stop him. “This is what my son has been doing every night?” she said. When Mr. Blossom nodded, she shut her eyes tight. “He was right. It was best I didn’t know.”

Everything, in the end, was resolved. There’s a secret for you that few have come to know�"everything always is resolved in the end. Everything always is just as it ought to have been, and if it doesn’t seem as though it ought to be, then you haven’t yet reached the end. But we have reached our end�"at least, the end of Mr. Blossom’s story, and young Andy’s story as well. And Rose and Mrs. Peabody, for that matter.

But you are likely wondering when I’m going to get around to telling you the ending, aren’t you? 

Mrs. Peabody was hurt at having been lied to, but she forgave Mr. Blossom and Andy because she was a kind woman with a big heart. And she even agreed to allow her son to spend a year with the circus, provided he finish his schooling first. Andy readily accepted these terms and Mr. Blossom returned Mrs. Peabody’s payment to her. 

Mr. Blossom hadn’t given up on his dream to become a balloonist, but its grip on his heart suddenly seemed to have loosened. It was probably because his heart had expanded several sizes when he’d met Rose and his dream no longer had large enough hands to catch ahold of him. But now that he’d climbed the ladder, he knew he could fly that balloon one day. 

In the evening of the best balloonist and aeronautical festival Mr. Blossom had ever attended, Rose led him to a blue balloon with white clouds on it. 

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she told him.

As she spoke, a man with dark, curly hair and a friendly twinkle in his eye popped up from inside the basket. 

“Hello there, just cleaning up from this afternoon’s picnic,” he greeted with a smile. “Rosie-gal, I’ve been waiting all day for you to join me!”

Rose turned to Mr. Blossom with a grin on her face. “This is my brother, Alfred,” she explained, “and he’d like to take us both up for a last ride before the festival closes. Would that be alright?”

So, at the 67th annual balloonist and aeronautical festival�"the fifteenth one Mr. Blossom had attended�"the private investigator finally climbed high into the sky in the basket of a balloon. The three of them soared away across the tiny town of Breezewood as the festival’s closing fireworks lit the clouds above Mr. Blossom’s cottage. They continued to fly long after the fireworks had finished and there was nothing above them but a navy canvas spattered with golden stars�"winking invitations to far-off worlds that can only be explored in dreams, and only by those who are brave enough to let the light banish their silly fears. 

Author's Note

The end is still a work-in-progress!