The Judge and the Gypsy

by Sandra Chastain

  “Then do it, Crusader, before we both incinerate!”

  “Uh-oh, what about my promise to your father?”

  “Did he ask you not to make love to me?”

  “No, that was my idea.”

  “Some of your ideas are spectacular, Crusader. Some are not. This one isn’t.”

  He nuzzled behind her ear, his hands touching and tormenting every secret place until she could no longer stand.

  “Rasch, I’m dying. Love me, please.”

  “Always, my Gypsy, always.” The pantyhose were gone, and so were Rasch’s clothes. For the first time, they made love in a house, in a bed, in a blur of sensations that catapulted them with the intensity of a moon blast in a rocket ship into a shattering release.

  Afterward, Rasch gathered her in his arms. “Savannah, maybe this isn’t the time, but I want to tell you about Tifton.”

  “No. This is our time. I don’t want to talk about him—not now.” She twisted in his arms and pressed her face against his neck.

  “Sometimes it’s hard, making the best decision. I always tried to do the right thing, but I made everything black or white. By not allowing any gray, I could make my decision and put it behind me. If I could take it back, change my sentence, I would. I’m so damned sorry I made him my example.”

  “It’s all right, Crusader. You never meant his death to happen.”

  But the moment had changed. And it was Rasch who was tense, not Savannah. Suddenly she understood how it must have been for Rasch, growing up without people around him to help cushion life’s blows. As a child he’d had to grow up the best way he could, but underneath he wasn’t sure. He had fear like everyone else, he just didn’t show it.

  “Rasch, it’s all right. I understand. We’ve both been sailing along, set on a course that allowed little change of direction. We’d drawn very detailed maps. You’d right the world’s wrongs, and I’d make my family’s world right. Neither of us knew how to take any of the little side trips that make the trip worthwhile.”

  She felt him start to relax. His fingertips began to make tiny circles on the skin of her back, tiny warm circles that expanded as she talked.

  “But Tifton wasn’t just anybody, Gypsy. He was your brother, part of your plan.”

  “Yes, maybe he was. And it took him to bring us together.”

  “But—”

  “Crusader …” She lifted her face and cut off his protest with a kiss. “Crusader, maybe Tifton never had a map. He spent all his time on the side roads. A map is good just as long as it can be revised when the occasion warrants.”

  This time when Rasch kissed Savannah, it was such a sharing that she felt the last of his reserve melt away, and she learned that some side trips are very, very worthwhile.

  After they made love again, they talked, not about serious things, but about cartoons, about the Beatles, and about libraries.

  Rasch learned that under a special program a library would order and send books to people who couldn’t come in.

  Savannah learned that street gangs and peer pressure were as real as they were reported to be, that Rasch, too small to defend himself, had spent his childhood in the libraries she couldn’t visit.

  Correspondence courses offered the same opportunities to a circus performer that night school offered to a short-order cook determined to study law. One way or another, they’d both been thirsty for knowledge. From the beginning they’d traveled parallel paths that never should have intersected. And Savannah solved her last doubt by believing that only Gypsy magic could account for their being in each other’s arms.

  Long after midnight, in the middle of November under a harvest moon, they pulled the bedclothes out on the balcony and made love beneath the stars. Later Savannah slept in Rasch’s arms, content and happy. Tonight was for loving, not regrets, and neither thought about tomorrow.

  The next morning they made love again before Rasch left the apartment and made a quick trip to Lenox Square. There, he bought a plaid gathered skirt, a matching cotton sweater, and a pair of flat-heeled shoes.

  “You didn’t buy underwear,” Savannah said as she unwrapped the packages.

  “Sorry.” He grinned. “An oversight.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Only if you bet with me and the wager is agreeable,” he said as he kissed her again.

  “Rasch, if you don’t stop kissing me, I’m going to have lips as big as mayonnaise-jar lids.”

  “Perfect match for some of my body parts, I’d say. Why don’t you take those clothes off and come back to bed?”

  “Judge Webber, is that the proper way to conduct a courtship?”

  “Courtship! My gosh. Your father is going to have my hide. I’d better get you home.”

  “I don’t think he has a shotgun, Rasch, but he has a whip. At least he used to,” she teased.

  “Good, a whipping I won’t even notice.”

  The scars on his back. Savannah had noticed them before, that night at the campfire. Instantly she regretted her joke. “What happened, Rasch?”

  “Oh, one of my mother’s boyfriends was pretty quick with a belt.”

  “Your mother’s boyfriend beat you?”

  “Among other things.”

  Savannah was shocked. There were so many traumas in his past, so much that had kindled the determination he’d had to succeed. “Oh, Rasch, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine a mother allowing something like that to happen.”

  “Mothers do what they have to, I suppose. Mine did.”

  Savannah thought of her own mother and the pain she suffered. She remembered how hard Isabel worked to get better, and how the realization gradually came to her that she’d never be without pain anymore, that she’d never again fly through the air and land in her husband’s arms.

  “I guess mine did too. I was too young to understand how she could leave Tifton and me.”

  “Perhaps she left you because she couldn’t bear to let you see her suffer. At least she knew what she was doing.”

  “Not at the end. There were so many drugs, she didn’t know what she was doing. I’m sure she didn’t know.”

  “Bad things kill even the innocent. And they kill a little part of those that live with the innocent too.”

  All the way back to the circus Savannah thought about what he’d said. Her mother had died from an overdose of drugs, and his mother had died from drugs too. Maybe her death was no accident either. She and Rasch had both lost a little part of themselves. Now maybe that little part was being replaced.

  As they pulled into the parking lot, they were met by a crowd of cars and people.

  “Judge Webber, what do you have to say about these charges?”

  “Is she the one?”

  “Ms. Ramey, how long have you been a member of a sex club? Who else belongs?”

  Savannah and Rasch looked at the reporters and back at each other.

  “What are you talking about?” Rasch asked a man he recognized from the press.

  “Why, this.” He held up a copy of Party Time. Covering practically the entire front of the tabloid was the picture of Savannah with her dress drooping across her breasts, her hair hanging in wisps around her face, and Rasch scowling angrily. They looked as if they’d been discovered in a compromising position and were hurrying to get away.

  “Oh, no!” Savannah looked at the picture and the three-inch headlines. PROMINENT JUDGE CAUGHT IN SECRET SEX TRYST WITH GYPSY MADAM.

  She didn’t even want to read the article. What was said inside the paper didn’t matter. The cover did enough damage. Judge Horatio Webber’s career was ruined. He’d likely lose his seat on the bench, and the governorship was out of the question. And it was all her fault.

  “Go inside, Savannah. I’ll handle this.” He opened the door and helped her out. The crowd of reporters swarmed around them, separating them in the confusion.

  “What do you have to say, Ms. Ramey?”

  She had to do something. These people weren’t going to lis
ten to reason. They were out for a story, and she was afraid that what they didn’t learn, they’d make up—just like that awful man back at the wall. She couldn’t let Rasch suffer on her account, not after he’d rescued her so many times.

  At that moment she heard the mad cry of a crazed elephant as Nell thundered across the compound.

  “Look out, there’s an elephant.”

  “It’s coming right over us.”

  “Move!” Niko charged Nell straight toward Savannah. Nell reached out and lifted Savannah with her big trunk, then trotted back the way she’d come.

  “No, Niko. Stop her. I have to say something. Stop!”

  Niko brought Nell to a halt. Savannah took Niko’s hand and climbed up Nell’s trunk to her big head, where she straddled the lovable old creature.

  “May I have your attention, please,” she said in a loud, clear voice.

  The crowd hushed.

  “I thank you for coming. The story you have is a lie. I’d like you to know the truth about the man who will be your next governor. Judge Webber cared enough to befriend the grieving sister of a man he had to pass sentence on. The judge is a fair and honest man who never did anything wrong. He’s just a compassionate human being.”

  “You mean you aren’t a madam?”

  Savannah laughed easily. “I’m a member of the Flying Gypsies trapeze act. And I invite each of you to stop by my office and pick up some free tickets. Take pictures, talk to the workers if you like.”

  “How do you explain this article?”

  “By telling you what happened. I was at a party, and my zipper broke. You all know Judge Webber’s integrity. He was just trying to save me the embarrassment of having to face a house full of people.” With an upraised hand she forestalled further questions.

  “Perhaps you’d like to verify my story with the judge’s campaign manager, Jake Dalton, before you spoil Judge Webber’s chance at being the first real governor of the people.”

  An affirmative rumble began in the crowd. “Yeah. Super Judge is a good man.”

  “Maybe we’ll check with Jake.”

  Savannah scanned the throng. She couldn’t see Rasch. They’d been separated, and he’d been swallowed up by the crowd. Nell began to walk backward, moving away from the reporters, waving her trunk back and forth, warning them not to follow too closely. Finally, when they reached the elephant yard, Savannah slid down and fled into her trailer.

  She’d known from the start that Rasch’s world was a thousand miles from the circus, but she’d allowed her emotions to convince her that she and her crusader had a chance at a real relationship.

  She ignored the first knock on the door. She ignored Rasch’s plea that she let him in. She ignored her father’s knock and closed out the pain she felt when he sent Rasch away.

  Her plan to cast a love spell over the judge had worked too well. Never before had Savannah taken Zeena’s words seriously. There was no such thing as Gypsy magic; there couldn’t be. But nothing else could explain what had happened. She’d become as enchanted as Rasch. Now she’d ruined his career, and her own life as well. Savannah fell across her bed, and for the first time since her mother’s death, she cried herself to sleep.

  “I’m sorry, Rasch,” Alfred said, shaking his head, “she refuses to see you.”

  “But I love her. We have to talk.”

  “I know, but I told you in the beginning that you couldn’t stay here if she didn’t want you. And she doesn’t—at least not now. You’ll have to go.”

  Rasch stared at the old man with disbelief in his eyes. It couldn’t end this way. Savannah had been an unplanned intrusion in his life, an intrusion that had given him such joy that he was willing to give up not only the governorship, but his position on the bench as well.

  She understood him. She even forgave him for what he’d done. But more than that, they’d shared their loneliness and their dreams. They were right together, dammit, but she wouldn’t let him come close anymore.

  She thought that if she kept him away, he’d get his life back on track. That was why he loved her, because of her willingness to sacrifice herself for what she believed. He knew that Savannah cared for him. He’d held her, made love to her, shared in the incredible enchantment of their loving. She couldn’t conceal, or erase, that. But she was sending him away.

  Because she loved him.

  And he had to go, because that was what she wanted and because he loved her too.

  Rasch left Alfred’s trailer and walked across the compound. He wandered over to the elephant area and petted Nell as she gave him wet kisses with her trunk. The cats were less responsive, but Rasch gained strength from their resigned acceptance of their fate. They didn’t know the dangers of being free. Here they were safe and cared for. Here they had Savannah and the circus to protect them.

  He took one long last look around.

  “You know that she loves you.”

  Zeena stood at his side in a haze of moonlight, the crisp fall air tugging at her scarf.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And do you also know the circus is to be sold?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because the family has ended. There is no one to carry on, at least no one for a long time.”

  He sighed. “And what should I do, Zeena? I don’t know which way to turn.”

  “You go on with the course you have charted. If you are meant to be together, she will come to you in her own time, in her own way.”

  He turned away, stopped, and asked, “Zeena, tell me the truth, did you do it? Was it a Gypsy spell that brought us together?”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “I’m not sure. There was a time when I thought I had all the right answers. I was such a pompous fool. No, I guess I don’t believe in superstition. I guess I just wanted to think that you might cast another spell. But she’s gone. It’s over, and I don’t even have a glass slipper.”

  “You don’t need a slipper, Crusader,” Zeena said under her breath as she watched him go. A smile crossed her face, and she fingered the gold heart she wore on a chain around her neck.

  “You have something better.”

  Nine

  By spring all the circus animals had been sold. The trailers, booths of chance, and the food vendors were gone. Only the big top, patched and faded, remained.

  Alfred and Zeena were making plans to take a trip to Europe. Savannah, who’d taken correspondence classes all her life, had enrolled in education classes at the local junior college and spent her free time working out with Niko on the wires.

  Rasch had weathered the bad publicity generated by the Party Time article and was making good progress in his campaign for the governorship. He’d pulled ahead of his closest opponent for his party’s nomination. But the fire had gone out of his eyes, and his decisions in the courtroom were more carefully rendered.

  More tired than ever, Rasch found his duties in court weighed heavier and heavier. There were no more midnight visions, no more whiffs of the tea olive blossom, no more burning sensations on his body. The heat seemed to have gone out of his world. Through Niko he kept up with the circus, but Savannah still refused to see him. She had some misguided idea that she was protecting Rasch, and nothing would change her mind.

  Rasch was worried. He drove out to Pretty Springs, the small town where the Vandergriffs lived. He needed to talk with Joker, the only other person who might understand the depth of his loss.

  “I think I’ve got the nomination,” Rasch explained. “But ever since Savannah sent me away, I’ve questioned every move I’ve made. If I don’t figure out a way to get her out of my mind, I’m not even going to make a good dogcatcher, let alone do the kind of job I want to as governor. This is what I thought I wanted more than anything in the world, what I’ve worked for all my life. Now I don’t seem to care.”

  “Let’s examine the situation logically,” Joker said. “If you do get Savannah back, your relationship might cost you the ele
ction. Do you think she could live with that?”

  Rasch shrugged. “All I know is that she’s too important for me to let her go. I was driven before I met Savannah. But I’d closed myself off from dreams, and beauty, and love. Sooner or later I’d have burned out, and I never even knew what I was doing.”

  Joker stood, pacing back and forth for a time before answering. “I think, my friend, that the problem will take care of itself, without our help. There is an aura around you, Rasch, when you and Savannah are together, an aura that dims with separation. I don’t pretend to understand or explain it, any more than I can explain the healing powers of my hands. But I say, give yourselves time. I think you’ll find a way back to each other.”

  Rasch went back to Atlanta. Waiting was something he’d learned to do. But until now he’d never realized how difficult it would be.

  Alfred and Zeena left for Europe.

  Savannah completed one quarter in college and started another. If she couldn’t perform for children, she’d find another way to reach them—as a teacher. She already had enough college credits, but she still needed the education courses required by the state.

  Rasch was on her mind constantly.

  She imagined him as a small boy, escaping to the library to study and learn, to avoid the bullies in his neighborhood, to resist the peer pressure on the street. The small traveling circuses were dying out; there were few circus children left, but there were still migrant workers, and the homeless, with no way to learn. Children reminiscent of Rasch and herself would be her charges. Rasch would be governor, and she would teach.

  But she couldn’t close off the memories, and she couldn’t make new ones. She didn’t eat well, and sleep came only after hours of physical exertion on the wire.

  It was four o’clock on a Friday afternoon when Judge Webber gave up waiting and called a press conference at his office in the courthouse. His reception room was crowded with reporters who genuinely liked the popular man of the people. They approved of his openness and honesty and supported his plans to be governor. When he entered the room, the noise quieted instantly.

  Camera lights lit up.