On My Mind

I need your help finishing this story I started a couple of years ago. I just came across it again and it made me smile, but I can't remember where I was going with the story.
Do me a favor and read it, comment on it, and suggest a direction. If I use your idea and it, by some chance, gets published one day, I'll give you credit in the book and invite you to all the book signings!! Ah, fantasy....

This is the story of Muriel, the spinster seamstress whose heartache over her unrequited love for the butcher's son was second only to her disappointment at never being able to summon the courage to join the traveling circus that visited once a year.

Secretly, she would practice balancing objects in her empty parlor. For, while others would come to call, she only had eyes for the butcher's son, Pierre. Muriel's parlor window faced the display window of Pierre's father's store. As Muriel balanced furniture, sewing notions and even her pet cat, Lulu, she watched Pierre learning to slice mutton and stuff sausage.

She saw him grow from a scrawny boy into a muscular, broad-shouldered man. Alas! Muriel was a vegetarian and never found reason to speak to Pierre, and Pierre had little need for fancy clothes as his days were spent among the blood and juices of dead animals. Butchers were rarely invited to the parties and balls of the social elite.

So, Muriel grew older and more alone, but her skill at balancing the most precarious combination of objects was refined year by year. And, each year, she snuck out to watch the circus as it came to town. She marveled at the costumes then went back to her shop and recreated each one, ordering sequins and metallic thread from Paris and colorful, airy fabric from India. At night, she would try on her costumes and dance around, pretending she was "Miraculous Muriel the Balancing Girl" who was married to "Pierre the Invincible," the strong man and lion tamer for her own private circus.

She would stack chairs, plates, pillows, spools of thread, knitting needles and candlesticks. She taught herself to juggle balls of yarn, miscellaneous fruit, silverware and tea cups. She bowed to the imaginary crowd and graciously thanked them for the thunderous applause. Then, after a celebratory party at the most glamorous home in town, where the acrobats swung from the chandelier and the ring master made a drunken fool of himself by singing bawdy pirate ballads, she and Pierre would sneak home and fall into a passionate embrace. Of course, in reality, Muriel would end up getting drunk off dandelion wine and fall into a passionate embrace with an embroidered pillow of Venezuela given to her last fall by the widow McMurtry after Muriel fixed a tear in her favorite riding pants minutes before she was to open the annual fox hunt.

Then, one summer, as the circus came to town, Muriel unexpectedly found herself face to face with Pierre...

Walking into her parlor, wearing a new dress that was a tasteful representation of the outfit worn by the equestrienne acrobat from last year's circus, Muriel casually juggled two milk bottles and a slightly rotten kumquat. She pirouetted and plied as she juggled, never missing a catch until she spun forward to see Pierre standing in her parlor with a bemused look on his face.

Caught by surprise, Muriel dropped the bottles and the kumquat bounced ungracefully off her head. Pierre shifted the hat he had been holding in his hands underneath his arm and clapped wildly while exclaiming, "That was wonderful! Where did you learn that?"

Muriel blushed a deep crimson red that clashed brightly with her purple gown. She stared at the broken pieces of glass on the floor and spoke to the squashed kumquat at her feet. "I'm... I'm sorry," she breathed. "I didn't know anyone was there. I thought I had locked the door."

Pierre took a hesitant step forward. "Oh don't be sorry. I rather enjoyed it. If I had known you had such talents I wouldn't wait so eagerly for the circus to come to town each year! Why, all I would have to do is walk across the street!"

Muriel looked up. "You wait for the circus to come to town?," She asked incredulously, finding it hard to believe someone else in her sleepy little town could appreciate the beauty and artistry of the circus like she did."

Oh, now you're making fun of me, I'm afraid," said Pierre. "I know, it seems childish, but I've always loved the circus. I can't outgrow it," he continued, then added under his breath, "no matter how much it irritates my father."

Muriel caught his eye and smiled."Oh, I love the circus, too!," she exclaimed. "Well, obviously..." she laughed as she pointed at the broken milk bottles on the floor and began picking up the pieces.

Pierre set his hat aside and bent down to help her. He puffed up his chest and assumed a deep, booming voice, "What need does a butcher have to swing from a trapeze or walk a tight rope? That doesn't get the sausage stuffed any faster! You can't feed your children with fairy tales and calliope music now, can you?"

Muriel laughed along with Pierre at the mockery of the old butcher. Suddenly, she realized Pierre had not told her why he suddenly showed up in her parlor after so many years of living next door."So," she said, "is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually, there is. And, I can see now, you are more than qualified to assist me. But, you must promise to keep this project a secret. Can you keep a secret?"

Muriel thought to herself, Oh Pierre, if you only knew the secrets I have kept over the years. Instead, she said out loud, "Yes. It comes with the business sometimes."

"Well, then," replied Pierre. "Would it be impolite of me to ask for a cup of tea so we could sit down and talk properly?"

Muriel's heart was fluttering so madly in her chest she swore it would fly up her throat and leap out her mouth any minute. She tried to remain calm and business like. "Of course," she said and walked swiftly to the kitchen. Once out of sight, however, she felt as if she had been holding her breath for the last fifteen minutes and let out a gasp of air. She fell against the wall and panted, trying to regain her composure. Her heart was pounding so hard she could see the organza fluttering on her chest. She grabbed the teapot and, with shaking hands, tried desperately to find two teacups that matched, as most of her sets had been sacrificed to the rigors of juggling practice. Finally, she settled on two cups with similar patterns, allowing herself to believe that men rarely noticed these things anyway.

Muriel placed the teapot, cups, spoons, milk, and honey pot on a silver tray that had been handed down to her from her great aunt Florence. The sugar bowl caught her eye and, thinking Pierre might have a sweet tooth, she stacked that on top of the cups. She spotted some tea cookies a client had given her and stacked those on top of the sugar bowl. Remembering that the only place to sit in the parlor was on the loveseat, she grabbed an extra chair and, turning it upside down, balanced the tray of goodies on the legs. She straightened her dress, smoothed her hair back into place, bit her lips to give them some color, picked up the chair and walked out of the kitchen and straight into Lulu who had found a particularly nice patch of fading sunlight to lounge in and had no intention of moving for anyone.

Muriel tripped and the silver tray tipped, Muriel spun around, shifted her weight, swooped to the left, dipped and bobbed, then spun around again. She dropped the chair on the top of her foot, grabbed the tray and kicked the chair up so it flipped right side over and landed opposite Pierre who sat on the couch with a look of incredulity and amazement on his face. "Do you take milk or honey in your tea?" asked Muriel casually. "Maybe a little sugar?"

"Amazing!..." exclaimed Pierre.Muriel poured him a cup of tea and he took it as if in a daze, staring at her the whole time. "I am beginning to feel now that the task I need your help with may be beneath you..." he said.