How worthless, I thought. A machine can’t read a palm or look into eyes for clues to a life. I could do a much better job, and I’d certainly be more entertaining. I found myself looking around as I walked the grounds, searching for a live fortune-teller of any sort. I can’t tell you why I wanted to know. I just did.
The midway was quite a parade. I passed big people, little people, a bearded woman, lions, and bears; parents, husbands, and boyfriends trying to win prizes for girls, wives, and little ones—but not a fortune-teller anywhere.
I turned to leave, I headed back toward the big top, musing about the creepy fortune-telling machine. Then I heard myself listing my qualifications. Surely the Vronsky Family Circus would never find anyone more qualified to interpret tea leaves at the bottom of a cup or see a person’s true nature in the lines of his palm better than me. I tried to put this thought out of my head. I was getting ahead of myself.
But without Irina, I suddenly realized, I’d become lonely. Perhaps I could use the arts Irina had taught me.
I’d changed since I first set foot on Ellis Island. Who was this adventurous person who’d come to inhabit me? I was so much freer and more daring than the curious disciplined dancer who’d left Russia.
I was even more anxious now for the circus to begin, and to see my old friend. Memories of Vladimir and my past had occupied my every waking moment since I saw his face on the poster. But although I was impatient, I took into consideration what I had learned many years ago. “It is always better to visit a performer after the show.”
Stuffing down my eagerness, I found my way to the bleachers of the big top. The crowd’s excitement was contagious. The elephants entered, followed by the horses. One equestrian rider left everyone spellbound as she stood upright on the rosined back of a cantering horse, playing the flute. She wore a bright red plume on her head. It made me think of the stories I had heard of Lillya in her free-spirited youth.
The clowns riding unicycles were funny and made me laugh. Watching the trapeze artists, I imagined what it would be like to fly through the air.
Then Vladimir entered the ring, shining like the star he’d always been. Charismatic and handsome as ever, he climbed the ladder to the high wire. The blood in my veins felt like a river overflowing with thoughts from our past. Stepping onto the taut line, he waved to the crowd. The hair on my arms stood straight up. “The Vronsky Family Circus has saved the best for last,” the man sitting next to me told his children. I had to agree.
In this carnival kingdom, Vladimir was the emperor and he held the audience in his palm. Children squeezed their parents’ hands until he arrived safely to the other side. Women were afraid their leading man might fall; men admired his strength and presence, the attention he commanded. Everyone was brought to their knees, then they stood and shouted for more. I had never heard so many encores.
But as I sat on the hard bleachers, as transported as any child, a truth struck me that I had never seen before. The circus was a traveling home for individuals with unusual talents and quirks. In this context, society deemed them delightful in small doses, but the same people who applauded them at the circus would likely reject them outside. Here, they found the place where they belonged, just as they were, protected by the big top’s magic circle.
And I realized I wanted to be in that magic circle with Vladimir more than anything else. If the Vronsky Family Circus would have me, I’d happily join them.
¯¯¯
I walked out of the big top in a trance, though the heat and humidity outside hit me like a slap to the face, bringing me back to earth. When I asked several workers where I might find Vladimir, the men smiled and pointed, and the women said, “Bella,” as they had the previous day. Later I discovered that many women, with not the purest of intentions, often sought out Vladimir.
I was really no different. Secretly, I had to admit, my head had been full of fantasies ever since I saw his steel-blue eyes staring back at me from a poster.
Chapter 19
Vladimir dropped his glass of champagne when I entered the tent. “I thought I saw a ghost, so I closed my eyes,” he said. “But look…you’re still here.” He was a little cloudy from drink and utterly bewildered. How had I made my way from St. Petersburg to Savannah and then to his circus and become a young woman along the way?
He embraced me and kissed my cheeks, and then we found a table where we could talk. My stomach was turning cartwheels, like the clowns I had just seen. I played with the flowers in my hair to calm myself.
Neither of us knew where to start. He asked about my father, and I asked about his parents, and several other friends we once had in common. The shadow of loss lay over our words, however light we tried to make them. I asked how Vladimir had come to be in Georgia.
“The circus was becoming a burden to my father,” he said. “It’s young men’s work. And he was worried about Russia’s future. He told me it was time to pass the circus on to me, but with one provision: I leave St. Petersburg.”
“My father, too, made me leave.” I told him briefly about my voyage and Catherine, leaving out the accident that broke my leg. “I know he was right, but I still find it hard to accept.”
“Isn’t it strange, the way our stories are a bit like mirrors?” Vladimir reflected.
“And that we never knew we were following a similar path,” I responded. “Only I crossed the ocean alone, with just a trunk and leather case, and you brought an entire circus!”
“I think we both mourn our St. Petersburg,” he said solemnly. We were silent for a moment. Vladimir shook himself. “But enough of this dismal talk. Do you remember my younger cousin, Viktor?”
“Yes, of course—we rode ponies together as children. Why?”
“He left Russia with me and the circus. I tried watching over him, but when we were in France, an older gypsy woman cast a spell on him, and he ran off with her in the middle of the night. I guess I should be grateful they only took a horse! But still, it caused quite a scandal—I don’t think his parents will ever forgive me. They blame me, as his elder. What could I do? I couldn’t lock him in a cage like a bird.”
“These are such different times, Vladimir. So many of us have found ourselves following paths our parents can never understand. Who’s to say which paths are wrong?” I smiled, keeping my voice light, though for some reason my heart had begun to race.
Vladimir opened his mouth to answer, but just then there was a stir in the room, everyone turning toward the doorway. He swung around too. A petite brunette, the rider with the bright red plume, had entered the room. Vladimir’s cloudy eyes began to sparkle. She had a presence that made her look much taller.
“Bella!” Vladimir called out, then turned back to me. “She’s my everything.”
The way the workers had said Bella’s name every time I asked where I might find Vladimir, I expected her to be cold and jealous. I was quite wrong. They’d simply been acknowledging that wherever Bella went, Vladimir would be close by. As for my own reaction to this unexpected turn, I would berate myself later, and more than once. For now, though, I would have to bury my disappointment.
Bella brought an air of festivity into the room, though behind the warmth in her eyes flickered a shadow of concern. Of course, she would be on guard whenever a young woman came around, what with Vladimir’s looks. It didn’t stop her though from smiling widely; she remained genial and cordial as our conversation lengthened and I began to see how truly remarkable Bella, in this confident grace, could be.
“Do tell us where you’ve been,” she said in her lyrical Italian accent.
“Yes, of course!” Vladimir shouted.
I glanced sideways at him, bemused. You’d think, to hear him now, we had barely exchanged a few words. But who could blame him for his caution? He had a beautiful young wife he was clearly deeply in love with. And no one really knew what to make of this young woman who
moved like a ballerina, had white flowers and freshwater pearls in her dark, wavy hair, and spoke in English, Russian, and French.
“They knew each other in Russia,” I overheard a man standing behind Vladimir whisper to the woman beside him. “She appeared out of nowhere tonight.”
The woman glanced at me and then at Bella, then smiled and murmured something to a friend at her other side. A low hum and stir through the room made me think that she wasn’t alone in anticipating a little gossip. I shifted uneasily. Why had I come at all? Vladimir and I weren’t schoolchildren anymore, and my interest hadn’t been strictly platonic.
But Bella handled the situation masterfully. She swept over with a plate of food and handed it to me, introducing herself in a way that put everybody at ease making it clear that I was welcome.
They’d married earlier that spring, Vladimir told me. My heart sank despite myself as I watched the small movements of Vladimir and Bella’s hands, the way their bodies talked to each other. This would take some getting used to. Yet slowly, as I watched and listened, I became aware of my own breath becoming more even. It had been a long time since I had socialized with people close to my age.
Bella had grown up in an equestrian setting. Her father bought and sold fine-blooded horses in Italy. She was one year older than myself, and her mother, like Vladimir’s, had once been a well-known equestrian. I wondered whether that was part of what had drawn Bella and Vladimir to each other. Obviously, the men in both families had a weak spot for beautiful women who rode well.
“I first saw Bella performing in Florence—it was love at first sight.” Vladimir grew warmer and more animated as he talked about his wife. She blushed, but the flicker of wariness evaporated from her eyes.
She turned to me, her graciousness relaxing into genuine ease and warmth. “Oh, he was such a pest. He sat under my window and sang to me. I could never get any sleep—eventually I just had to give in.”
He grinned. “Well, I never had any illusions, did I? I know it was Senofonte who really won her over, not me.”
“That’s true enough.” Bella laughed. “Vladimir bought Senofonte, the best horse my father had, and then presented him to me. Quite a trick.”
Vladimir put on an injured face. “You wrong me, darling. I promised to take the stallion to America, just because I knew it would make you happy. But it didn’t hurt to make your father happy, too.”
“You were certainly determined.” Bella turned to me, smiling. “He might have gotten some of that from his mother. You knew Lillya, didn’t you, Donatalia?”
“Yes,” said Vladimir, “Donatalia knew my mother. But she was probably too young to have heard my favorite story about her.”
“Oh, tell it now!” I said. It was true that Lillya had always fascinated me, ever since that New Year’s dinner when she’d seemed as sparkling as the champagne she held. But it was also a relief to hear about something other than Vladimir and Bella’s courtship. I leaned toward Vladimir and lost myself in his story.
“When Lillya was only fifteen,” Vladimir began, “and already a daring rider, her father, my grandfather, took the family to the Loire Valley where she could improve her French, and he could stock his wine cellar. Every morning she borrowed a horse from a nearby stable and rode through the woods.
“A young officer at the famous Cadre Noir riding academy saw Lillya galloping through the trees, floating along on her saddle effortlessly her red-gold hair trailing like fire behind her. The young man was dazzled by her grace and fearlessness.
“The next week her father was invited for a tour of the famous riding academy. Lillya, who dreamed of learning the secrets of the Cadre Noir, begged him to let her come with him. In the end, not surprisingly, she got her way.
“And as fate would have it, the same young officer who had seen her in the forest was asked to give the visitors a tour. Recognizing her as the rider he’d seen, this courtly young man in his impeccable black uniform bowed and asked if she would like to go riding with him.
“Almost every day for the next month, Lillya and Laurent rode together through the Loire’s meadows and wooded hillsides. But first, every day, Lillya watched as her suitor schooled his horse in the Cadre Noir’s manège. With intense focus, she noticed every shift of his weight in the stirrups, every subtle movement of his fingers on the reins.” Unaware of mine or Bella’s feelings, Vladimir poured us each another drink and continued talking.
“The sultry nights became cooler,” Vladimir explained, “the golden summer dimmer, but this young man’s affection for my mother grew brighter and brighter. Business back in Russia was beginning to demand my grandfather’s attention. My mother’s suitor realized his time to express himself was becoming as short as each passing day. My mother, an eager student, went along with the young man. This was more of an adventure for her, I believe.
“Knowing my father would never let her stay, when things began to get too serious, she let her father overhear a conversation with a chambermaid. Needless to say, my mother’s time in France came abruptly to an end.”
Back in Russia, Lillya spent her days mastering the movements she had watched Laurent perform. She’d close her eyes as her horse shifted restlessly beneath her and imagine his fine hands, his polished boots. But her heart didn’t beat for her teacher; it beat for his skills. When she’d perfected the knowledge she’d taken from him, Lillya passed it on to the aristocratic ladies of St. Petersburg. Some, in turn, revealed this little-known but highly sought-after European art to their husbands.
“Though in secret, of course.” Vladimir winked at me, breaking the spell. “No man wants to admit that a woman has taught him anything, especially about horses and riding. But my mother’s gift raised her stature among the upper class. They flocked to see her, and everyone else followed. When she married my father, she was showered with lavish gifts.”
He fell silent for a moment, his eyes unfocused. “Well, that’s the true beginning of the Vronsky Circus’s fame. It’s my mother, in a way, who made it a success.” A shadow seemed to cross the room, the shadow of time and glory faded. Then he threw back his head and raised his glass, his eyes sparkling.
“To my brilliant mother, Lillya!”
“What happened to Laurent?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“From what I was told, Laurent was left heartbroken. He did not take it well.”
¯¯¯
We talked until the candle had burned down to a stub, the words falling off our tongues in Russian and English; every once in a while we threw in a little French.
Vladimir’s parents were still in Russia. So far, they had kept their place in St. Petersburg but were spending more and more time in the country with his grandfather on the family estate where his mother had first learned to ride. “For their safety, they need to be more anonymous. The political climate is getting hotter by the day. Their ties to the aristocrats no longer serve them well,” Vladimir said. “Things at home are bad now. There have been many uprisings, police and government officials assassinated. You should be grateful your father had the foresight to take precautions for your safety.”
I told my old friend how I’d ended up in the South and met Irina. He didn’t ask why I wasn’t dancing; to the ordinary person my slight limp might be almost unnoticeable, but he knew what it meant.
When I told Vladimir and Bella about my encounter with the scary machine that spit out fortunes, they both laughed. Bella and I spoke about babies; she was a few months pregnant. We talked about medicine, and she told me that her grandmother knew much about healing. When we went to say goodbye, my old friend and my new one kissed me on the cheek. Then Vladimir surprised me by saying, “It would be wonderful to have a fortune-teller who feels compelled to tell the truth.”
Bella added, even more surprisingly, “A midwife who knows about medicine and herbs would also be very welcome here.”
In the f
ew hours I’d spent with them, they seemed to have each come to the same conclusion: not only that I could have a role in their circus but that I might play this specific role. Vladimir wanted to extend an invitation to an old friend and schoolmate, and Bella, it seemed, had decided that not only would I be a welcome addition but we might even become fast friends.
I left to find Ben, my ride home. My head was full of thoughts, each one vying for center stage. My friend Irina was in the heavens; I had no commitments that someone else couldn’t handle, and Vladimir was my only connection to my past. He was the only person left in my world who had ever met my parents, the only one who could bring that faraway life back to me with words. What we shared, few understood.
At home, I said good night to Polly, who was pretending she had something to do besides wait up for me, and then climbed the stairs to my bedroom, reached into the closet, pulled out a suitcase, and started to pack. Fate had called me, and it was time to answer.
I prepared the house for my departure.
Chapter 20
“People are more apt to listen to a happy man and do business with him,” Joseph’s father preached, and over the years, a little of that rubbed off on him. A tall, thin man in his early thirties with a skinny wisp of a mustache, he always dressed in wrinkled pants one size too big, but he had a way with numbers and was smart as a whip.
Joseph’s father owned and managed the general store for as long as anyone could remember. While some kids went to school to learn about the world, Joseph’s father taught him how to pick a product and negotiate. At seven years of age he was helping buy the vegetables for his father’s store and negotiating with the farmers, by eleven he was ordering their fabric and lace, and by fourteen he was named the assistant manager. Although the Butler Plantation was quite a bit bigger than anything he had ever managed, Joseph knew an opportunity when one revealed itself, so when I asked if he would like to be our caretaker, he jumped at the chance.
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