Page 13 of A Bouquet of Dreams

Next, Ivan asked for an audience member to come up, and a woman jumped at the chance. Ivan took one of the flowers out of the vase and held it out to her, but the bud fell off. “It broke off on me!” he said in his thick accent.

Claire’s head jerked up. He had just used flower shop jargon.Broke offwas a common phrase.

“Does this ever happen to you?” he asked, and the audience murmured, nodding. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could just...” Ivan reached down to pick it up off the stage and plop it back on the stem. He waved the flower in the air. “If you could just magically put that bud right back where it belonged.”

The audience clapped. Claire’s opinion of the cheesy magician had lifted ever so slightly. He handed the woman the flower, but as she reached out to take it, she knocked the bud off again. “Not to worry,” Ivan said, which sounded more like “Not to vorry.” He reached down and replaced it again. The woman was astounded, the audience entertained. But Claire knew that trick too. There was a lever on the stem so the magician could make the flower disconnect and connect again with a silent click. Ivan turned to the vase and took a flower out to hand to her. “For you, madam.” She left the stage, sniffing the flower.

Clever. Old Ivan must have fresh flowers in the vase along with those fake ones. Claire knew enough about magic acts to know that Ivan had diverted everyone’s attention to watch one thing while he quietly did something else.

Hmm. Ivan the Illusionist’s mystique was growing on her.

Then Ivan took the entire bouquet out of the vase, gathered the flower stems in his hand, and let them go. They levitated. Right in the air! He waved his hand over the bouquet, under the bouquet, to show the audience there were no strings attached.

Claire leaned forward in her chair. There were all kinds of ways to create the illusion of levitation, but it was just that—an illusion. She knew most of the basic tricks. She knew how cards and phones could be levitated—all through thread, tape, and the infamous sleight of the hand. All these tricks took a little practice, but anyone could do them.

But how was Ivan the Illusionist able to levitate a heavy bouquet of flowers?

Out of the black box, Ivan lifted up a birdcage with a dove. He covered it with his cape, and then it disappeared. Sophie squealed with delight, but Claire knew the wire birdcage was designed to collapse. The dove might’ve seemed lifelike, even moving its wings, but it wasn’t real. The loud music masked sounds, and the magician never stood still—techniques to divert the audience’s attention to later confound them. The human brain was constantly filling in gaps, so in the time that the magician forced spectators to look at one thing, he had created an illusion.

Ivan’s next acts were just as predictable—engaging audience members with card tricks, bending pencils, pulling a rabbit out of his hat. Looking around, Claire could see that the audience was totally into Ivan the Illusionist. Attention was riveted to the stage, looking for his secrets. She yawned, determined not to be drawn in. Not anymore.

Instead, Claire took out her sketch pad and started to draw the fine petals of a dahlia blossom, half listening to the magician’s spiel. She noticed the hotel employee, the boy with acne who had asked for her autograph, push a cart full of coffee pitchers and platters of what she hoped was a dessert. She was hungry. She looked at her menu—beignets, according to the card.Call them what you will, she thought.Those are donut holes.

Now and then, she would look at Ivan to see what he was up to now. He had pulled a long rectangular Pyrex tray with sides out of his black box and set it on the ground.

“How in the world did he fit so much into that box?” Sophie said, awed.

Claire had to smile. There was an entire industry that created products for magicians to use. Most likely, the tray was collapsible. Ivan the Illusionist shuffled back to the black box, reached in, and pulled out another large glass pitcher of water. A frail old man, he had trouble lifting the heavy pitcher, but once he had a secure grip, he shuffled back to the Pyrex tray and poured the water into it. Twice more, he went back to his black box to get another pitcherful of water. He filled the tray to the top with the water. Satisfied, he said, “And now, I am going to walk on water.”Valk on vater. Everyone, even Claire, leaned forward in their seats. She hadn’t seen this trick before.

Slowly, because Ivan seemed to do everything slowly, he lifted a leg and placed one wobbly foot on the tray. He lifted his other leg and nearly fell. Hands waving, he recovered his balance and took another step on the water. Again, nearly falling, he caught himself just in time. Little by little, he made his way across the long tray. The audience cheered.

Not bad for an old guy, Claire thought.

Ivan the Illusionist went to the front of the stage. “But all of you know that was a trick. There is only one who truly defied gravity and walked on water. His name is Jesus.”

Out of his cape, he pulled a large light bulb. “Abracadabrais the most universally understood word in the world. It’s actually Aramaic, and it means, ‘As I speak, I now create.’ In the book of Genesis, God’s first words were, ‘Let there be light.’ And that is what God continues to do, when he sent his Son to be the Light of the World.” He released the light bulb, and like the flower bouquet, it levitated.

Watching him, an odd uneasiness filled Claire, a sense of familiarity. Of déjà vu.

And then Ivan dropped his phony accent. “You come to a magic show to be entertained by illusions. Each of these tricks is done by fooling your perception of reality. That’s all these magic tricksare. Tonight, I want you to leave knowing thereisan alternate reality—but this one can be trusted. No trickery involved. The Light of the World is the only one you can trust.” The light bulb turned on, and the audience gasped. They started to clap and cheer for the magician, and he took off his hat to bow.

Suddenly, Claire felt a head-to-toe shaft of hot surprise sizzle through her body. As vivid as a shock of electricity, though it took her a moment to identify why. And then she got it.

Sheknewhim! She knew Ivan the Illusionist! He might have worn a disguise, spoken in a fake accent, acted like a frail old man, but she had no doubt Ivan was Christopher Reid.

Boiling anger rose up inside Claire. Her heart started pounding, her hands started shaking. Chris was the one who had caused so much trouble for Rose and Jaime and Tessa, and for her. He was the reason the girls had all fled from Sunrise, never to return. He had ruined everything.Everything!

Claire lost it. She strode over to the long table of refreshments that had been set out for the attendees to enjoy after the show ended. That big platter of donut holes was just calling to her. She picked up a handful and hurled it at the magician. Then another, and another. They kept falling short.

Ivan stopped bowing to look out at the audience to try and find who was throwing things at the stage.

Claire grabbed a tray, moved closer to throw more handfuls, and finally nailed him in the stomach. “Don’t clap for him! He’s a cheat! A fake!”

The room grew silent as the crowd stopped clapping. Ivan ducked as donuts holes pelted him.

“You! You of all people! You are my worst nightmare! I never wanted to see you again. Not ever!” Claire had emptied the platter of donut holes, so she went back for another. She turned and threw a donut hole that nailed Ivan right in the forehead.

Jim Turner rose to his feet and shook his fist at Claire. “Stop that woman! Stop her! She’s here to make trouble!”

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