Spellbound

by Sharon Ihle

  Seeking an answer, Rayna glanced up at the sky, afraid she would find clouds the color of midnight. Instead the sun was breaking through the wispy lace-curtain mist, but it didn’t bring her much comfort. Unable to shake a sudden sense of doom, she considered a couple of possibilities, and then settled on one.

  Dropping the jaguar into J.R.’s palm, Rayna said, “Since Gant gave this to you, it’s yours now and yours to pass on. I think the only way you’re going to be rid of the bad luck is to give this to someone else.”

  He glanced at the figurine. “But I really like this painter.”

  “It doesn’t like you,” Rayna reminded. “You must give it away, but think hard and very carefully before you chose a recipient. You have to remember that this gift will bring nothing but bad luck.”

  J.R. stuck his finger under the brim of his hat and scratched his head. “You thinking I ought to give it to someone who is just as mean as a painter? Maybe the kind of person who don’t care about nobody but hisself, is that it?”

  At Rayna’s nod, J.R. turned to his brother for guidance. “Can you think of anyone like that?”

  It didn’t take Gant but a moment to think of an excellent choice, but he refrained from speaking the name. He simply glanced from Rayna to J.R., his eyes shining with a devilish glow. Then he smiled.

  In sudden understanding, the younger Gantry’s dark eyes lit up with that same fire. He looked to Rayna, his grin crooked and expectant, his expression, uncertain.

  She glanced from brother to brother, her own smile spreading into a wide grin. There was really no need to speak the name that was so readily apparent in all of their thoughts. She offered a short nod of approval, and then linked arms with the brothers Gantry.

  “Zat sounds like an excellent choice,” she said, leading the two toward the stairs.

  All three were laughing as they reached the first step, and then suddenly, the air was filled with blasts from the ship’s whistle. The same signal was repeated two more times in rapid succession. Then the giant steam engines roared and the boilers hissed, groaning and complaining as Duke set about reversing the paddles.

  Through the sudden ear-shattering vibrations, Rayna clung to the railing on the staircase, her eyes wide with concern.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Did the engines blow?”

  Gant, imagining a tiny mop of blonde hair swirling downstream, was already racing toward the stairs as he hollered over his shoulder.

  “We’re stopping. That was the signal for man overboard.”

  Fifteen

  By the time Rayna burst out onto the main deck, everyone from cooks to performers to crew members were standing by the railing shouting encouragement to the occupants of the small skiff that had just been launched.

  Gripped by an impending sense of doom, Rayna rushed toward the back of the ship. As she moved toward the crowd, she noticed Hans hanging back away from the others. With a quick change of direction, Rayna made her way over to where he stood.

  “What happened?” she asked, fearing for little Minnie.

  Hans shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “She fell, I suppose.”

  “Oh, my God.” Rayna glanced around, looking for members of the Bailey family. “Where’s Mollie? Does she know yet?”

  Again he shrugged, and at that same moment, the woman in question popped out of the stairwell carrying one half-clad child under each arm. William and Minnie.

  Rayna’s mouth dropped opened. Then she turned back to Hans and asked, “Who fell overboard?”

  Echoing that same sentiment as she rushed up near Rayna, Mollie said, “Who fell in?”

  Careful to put some distance between himself and Rayna, Hans answered Mollie directly. “Za dwarf. She fell.”

  Rayna lunged at Hans, filling her palms with his shirt collar. “My mother fell overboard? How?”

  Struggling against her tenacious grip with his one good hand, Hans worked to dislodge Rayna from his clothing.

  Free of her, he explained, “I went to speak to her, but saw her spitting up her food into za river, I turned away and then heard a splash.”

  Without another word, Rayna spun on her heel and ran for the back of the ship. “Mother,” she called as she threaded her way through the crowd. “Daia, where are you?”

  When she reached the railing Rayna spotted J.R. shouting encouragement to the boatmen down river. The skiff was a small dot in the distance, much too far away for a little thing like Maria to have traveled in so short a period of time.

  Grabbing J.R.’s arm, Rayna asked, “They’ve got to get to my mother. She can’t swim.”

  J.R. glanced at Rayna, and then quickly turned away. Speaking as casually as possible under the circumstances, he said, “I think they just found her.”

  Rayna’s worried gaze remained with the skiff. “Is she all right?”

  J.R. shrugged. “It’s too far away for me to tell, ma’am. I just saw Gant pull something out of the river. I’m thinking that maybe it was your ma.”

  “Of course it was my mother.” It had to be.

  Rayna let her worried gaze fall to the deck. It was then she realized that she was standing in the exact same spot where she’d last seen Maria. What had she been doing there? Hans mentioned something about seeing Maria spitting up her food. Had she been sick? As she thought back over the last few days, Rayna brought the knuckle of her index finger to her mouth and bit down on it. Maria had been a little peaked of late, her blue eyes dull, ringed with dark smudges of exhaustion. If she’d been sick, why hadn’t she mentioned her illness, or at the least, taken better care of herself? And why hadn’t she taken more notice of her mother’s condition?

  Gant, came the answer. She’d been so busy acting out a fantasy life with Gant, she’d failed to notice that her mother was ill.

  The little boat drew close to the paddlewheel then and Rayna called, “Daia?”

  When no small head popped up between the two boatmen, she called to them, “Gant? Where’s my mother?”

  Bent over something on the bottom of the boat, his back to her, Gant didn’t respond.

  “Sam?” Rayna shouted, her panic rising. “Is my mother all right?”

  Sam, who was rowing the boat, leaned in near Gant to confer with him for a long moment. Then he looked over his shoulder, pointed at Rayna, and shouted an order at J.R.

  “Get her out of here. Tell everyone else to move out of the way.”

  The hand J.R. still had against Rayna’s back slid to her arm where he caught her in his grasp. “Come on with me, now, ma’am. I got to take you somewheres else.”

  Rayna tore out of his grip, turning on him as she said, “Don’t touch me.”

  She glared at him, making sure he understood how deadly serious she was, and then returned her gaze to the skiff as it reached the back of the boat.

  Down in the skiff, Gant glanced over his shoulder and saw that Rayna was still standing at the back of the ship. He ground his teeth in frustration.

  “Dammit, J.R.,” he shouted. “Get her the hell out of there, and I mean now.”

  “She says she ain’t going,” J.R. hollered back. “I tried, but she won’t move.”

  “He’s right,” Rayna confirmed. “I’m not leaving no matter what you say.”

  Refusing to believe that her mother was so badly injured she couldn’t even answer, again Rayna called to her. “Daia? Are you all right?”

  Gant swore under his breath, and then tore off his shirt. Leaning over the tiny woman lying on the bottom of the boat, he quickly spread his shirt over her face, careful to cover her wispy gray hair. Then he turned to Sam.

  “The minute we hit the ship, I’m going to jump on board. Don’t let anyone on this boat with you until I’ve taken Rayna away. Got it?”

  His expression solemn, Sam nodded.

  Dreading his next chore, Gant stood up, balancing himself as he added, “J.R. will help you get Maria onboard.”

  Then, as the skiff bumped up against the stern of the larger boat, G
ant launched himself aboard. Without so much as a hitch in his stride, he headed straight for Rayna and caught her in the crook of his arm.

  “No,” she said as he began to drag her away.

  But Gant kept on going.

  “You can’t do this,” she complained, biting his shoulder. “Stop it this instant.”

  And still he continued to drag her away.

  Rayna’s pulse was racing, shouting the horrible truth in her ears with a deafening rush. In spite of those warnings, of what she now felt in her heart, she fought. Kicking, crying, begging, she struggled to free herself, but Gant kept her firm in his embrace.

  “Please, please,” she cried. “Let me go to her. I have to see my mother.”

  Gant never even slowed his stride until after he got her inside of the arena and around to the far corner where he could keep her under control. The moment he released her and stood blocking her path, Rayna lashed out at him. She caught him full across the jaw with a curled up fist.

  “Bastard,” she spat. “Get out of my way.”

  Although stunned by her reaction and the surprising strength behind her blow, Gant remained steady on his feet.

  “I can’t let you go out there,” he whispered softly.

  “I’m going anyway, and you can’t stop me.”

  Again she took a swing at him, but this time, Gant was ready. He caught one fist as it hurtled toward him, and then the other as she let it fly, too. Sliding his hands down to her wrists, he held her off and tried to explain the unexplainable.

  “She’s gone, sweetheart,” he said softly, his own heart breaking. “There’s nothing you can do. Nothing.”

  “No. You’re lying.”

  She kicked out then, catching Gant in the shin with her slippered foot. The impotent effort hurt Rayna more than it did him, so she came at him again, this time with a well-directed knee. The only recourse Gant had was to twist her around in a circle, knocking her off of her feet. Catching her just before she fell to the floor, Gant tugged her up close to his body, spoon fashion, and imprisoned her with his arms.

  “Please, Rayna,” he said, his mouth tight against her hair. “Please listen to me. There’s nothing any of us can do. Your mother is dead.”

  A sob ripped through Rayna then, peeling back the wrappings of a pain she’d never known. She drew the fists she’d used so combatively against Gant to her breast in an effort to ease the agonizing ache radiating from there, but it was no use. She was overwhelmed with a bottomless sorrow, a terrible wound from which she knew she would never heal.

  Rayna slumped forward in Gant’s arms, trying to swallow the great ache that had paralyzed her throat. Somehow she managed to choke out a few words.

  “Please, Gant, I’m begging you. Let me go to her. I have to see her again.”

  “I can’t let you do that, Sweetheart.”

  “But why not? She’s my mother.”

  The sound of Rayna’s voice was like an echo spiraling up from her shattered heart. Keeping his hold on her, Gant shifted his arms until she was no longer pinned by them, but cradled. Then, his own voice wavering, betraying emotions he hadn’t completely owned, he gave her the terrible truth.

  “Maria was sucked under the paddlewheel. I’m afraid it cut her up pretty badly.”

  “Dear God. Oh, dear God.”

  Rayna sobbed against Gant’s arms, and then, something more. When he recognized the spasms bumping against his hands as retching, he lifted Rayna, half carrying her to the corner, and then sank down to his knees with her in his arms as she gave up her breakfast.

  Throughout her ordeal, Gant kept his arms wrapped firmly around Rayna’s waist, again not to prison, but to comfort and aid. When she was finished and lay like a rag doll against his arms, Gant took a handful of sawdust and cleaned her face and chin. Then he raised her up to her knees and folded her into his embrace.

  Rayna continued to cry, her face pressed against his bare shoulder, and then she began to mutter half-garbled, nearly incoherent oaths.

  “My fault, my fault,” she kept repeating over and over. And it was. She didn’t know how or exactly why, but Rayna knew that it was true. She was responsible for her mother’s death—she and her unholy attraction for Gant. If only she’d paid more attention to Maria and less to Gant, her mother would be alive now, alive and happy.

  Gripped with a sudden anger, Rayna raised her head and pounded her fists against his chest. “This is all because of you,” she accused, sounding like a madwoman even to her own ears. “I wish I’d never met you. This never would have happened if I’d never met you. Never.”

  “Blame me,” Gant whispered back, allowing her to beat on him. “Give it all to me if it will make you feel better. I’d do anything to take away your pain. Know that if you don’t know anything else right now. Know that, and know that I---“

  Gant paused, staggered by the shock and surprising sense of wholeness at what he was about to say. Then he said. “Know that I love you.”

  In her turmoil, Rayna knew that Gant was taking to her, but she didn’t really hear the words or feel the depth of emotion behind them. All she wanted, all she hoped for was that none of this had happened, that she’d awaken and find her mother standing near. Knowing, too, that it would never happen again, she collapsed against Gant’s chest and let loose another river of tears.

  As Rayna’s sobs increased, her heart thundering against his own, a fat glistening tear rolled down Gant’s cheek, a single drop of sorrow that he’d never shed for his own mother or even for himself. As he realized that he was actually crying, something tightened in Gant’s chest and then opened like a huge magnolia blossom under the sun. As the second, third, and fourth drops of that sorrow spilled down off of his bronzed cheeks, Gant sucked in a steadying breath.

  At the sudden movement, Rayna pushed herself higher on Gant’s body and rested her head against the side of his face. Even though drifting aimlessly in a cloud of her own pain, when she came in contact with the coarse stubble at Gant’s cheek and then tasted the salt of his tears, she found a moment of awe, even a small measure of comfort at the wonder of those tears.

  Her reprieve was short-lived. Misery and guilt returned with a vengeance, growing ever larger, until a great tide of anguish rose up and swallowed her whole.

  Then Rayna was lost to her surroundings. Lost to Gant. And worst of all, lost to herself.

  Sixteen

  The tears she shed with Gant were the last anyone saw Rayna shed. When the riverboat nosed onto a sandy Tennessee beach that night for Maria’s funeral, Rayna was the first off the ship, dry-eyed and singular in her purpose. Whispers of her brave front and noble carriage followed her, but she didn’t feel the least bit courageous. If she felt anything at all, it was an overwhelming sense of guilt, despondency, and numbness.

  Following as much Gypsy tradition as she could remember, Rayna planned her mother’s funeral. Looking past Maria’s terrible injuries, she dressed her in a simple white blouse and flowing Gypsy skirt. The garments were turned inside out to symbolize the fact that the separation between the inner body and outer body was no longer distinct. Then she added Maria’s favorite pieces of jewelry to the hastily constructed coffin Sam and others had prepared.

  After the burial services and despite mild opposition from Gus and Mollie, Rayna performed the final ritual. She piled all of her mother’s clothing and possessions into the fancy coach Maria had once ridden atop so proudly, and then burned it to the ground. Throughout it all, Rayna steadfastly refused Gant’s offers of comfort or support. Never was there a private moment between the two.

  By the time the steamship resumed its journey up river, Gant realized that he’d stumbled into a prison of another kind. He was on the outside looking in.

  *

  The Bailey Floating Circus traveled as far north as St. Louis, Missouri before beginning the return trip down river. Throughout the next five weeks the troupe played at towns and settlements along the way until they finally reached Natchez, Mi
ssissippi where the circus would remain for a fortnight.

  That first afternoon as the show got underway, Gant stood in the wings behind the seats and watched as the processional came to an end. Rayna and Sweetpea were wowing the crowd with their fortune-telling act while workmen set up the steel cage around the ring in preparation for The Great Gantini and all three lions.

  Gant tried to focus his attention elsewhere, but his gaze lingered on Rayna. She’d hardly acknowledged him since the day her mother died. In rare moments when she did seem to realize he existed, she favored him with only a clipped word or two. The first, the only woman he’d ever loved, had become a cool, dispassionate stranger who behaved as if she’d never known his touch, much less spent hot sweaty nights in his arms.