The Fortune Teller's Fate

by Audrey Berger Welz

  “But Big Jim was just warming us up. The driver like a shadow had the bartender bring out another fifth of whiskey and a fifth of vodka, and then later he had him top that off with a box of Cuban cigars. I had not seen that kind of finesse since leaving Russia, and I was falling for his ruse. I wondered if Big Jim had planned it all or if someone else was pulling the strings.

  “I remember it getting hot. I was sweating, even though the ceiling fan was cooling my brow. The bets were getting larger. My head felt like a circus balloon, ready to burst from too much air.”

  Bella and I held each others’ hands, afraid of what Vladimir would say next.

  “My cigar in hand, I felt an inclination to became a bit of a showoff, and I told the men that I’d been playing cards and drinking vodka since I was a child. ‘You have to start young,’ I said to them”—Vladimir winced at his own foolishness—“‘or our Russian vodka will eat you alive!’” Then he winked at me, wanting to lighten the mood.

  I gave him a little difficult smile. I wasn’t too anxious to humor him.

  Vladimir had overestimated his tolerance, he admitted. Before long the stakes had shifted from money to horses and camels, and he was betting many of our prize animals. He could no longer look us in the eye. “I was on a lucky streak, I swear, and honestly all that mattered to me was that I was winning. The other men lost, but my winnings kept piling up. I should have known something was wrong, but that feeling of being a winner took over my good sense. This I believe was all a part of Big Jim’s plan.”

  I could see this was painful for Vladimir, but I could also tell he was savoring his words and it angered me.

  “Big Jim bet his entire circus. The other owners pulled out.”

  Bella not sure if she wanted to listen or leave, began cutting up lemons and juicing them. “Who would like some cold lemonade?”

  “I would,” I told Bella, afraid of what was going to come out next.

  “It would have been bad manners to leave the game,” Vladimir chimed in, determined to get out what he came here to say. “Besides, no one believed he was serious, it was so preposterous. We thought he had to be joking. So, in the spirit of good sportsmanship, I bet the Circus of the Queens.” Bella was handing Vladimir his lemonade. I thought she would spill it on him. Instead she put the glass down on a table nearby and clutched her heart. As far as Vladimir was concerned, Bella’s disappointment was worse than almost any reaction she could have given. He could see she was ready to pack up the girls and return to Italy.

  “Honestly,” Vladimir sighed, “after all the vodka Big Jim poured down our throats, I don’t have a clear recollection of what happened. I do recall when I looked up, the mysterious driver had slipped out. I think he smelled trouble in the air.”

  Bella’s Italian temper was about to explode.

  “The entire parlor got very quiet. I sneezed just to hear the echo. The bartender stopped pouring drinks. Even the girls who were serving us started biting their fingernails. That’s when I began to understand that I might be in bigger trouble then I realized—that Big Jim might actually be serious.

  “I looked at the cards on the table, took a breath, and picked them up. The tension in the room was as thick as smoke in a burning barn. Though I was scared, I put on my best poker face. Still, all I could think of was you, Bella, and the queens. How was I going to get out of this mess?”

  My fingers were in my mouth, and I was biting my nails, too.

  “Big Jim thought his bet was a sure thing.” Vladimir continued. “I trusted the man. I thought he was an honest fellow. Besides, I had been winning all night, and I never would have taken Big Jim for a cheat.”

  “A cheat?” Bella and I said in unison.

  “Finally, it came time to lay my cards on the table. I laid down four tens. That’s a darn good hand. But Big Jim laid down…four queens.”

  Bella gasped.

  “I couldn’t move. Big Jim slapped me on the back and said, ‘Sorry, old man.’

  “The other owners were horrified. They began to pressure Big Jim.

  “‘You have to give Vladimir another chance,’ they argued when they realized he was serious. I was so stunned, I just sat there like Lot’s wife, turned into a pillar of salt.”

  Vladimir leaned back in his chair, reflecting on the scene. He looked as if he were preparing to count the stars in the sky.

  “Big Jim agreed to a rematch. The other owners gathered around the table. The dealer spoke through a big waxed mustache that curled at the ends. ‘This will be the final hand,’ and he dealt the cards. I tried not to show I was shaking inside for I knew this was my only chance of redemption.

  “One of the owners—Henri, from Baton Rouge, he was at our Christmas party—had a cramp in his leg, so he stood up to stretch it out. He found himself directly behind Big Jim. When he noticed that Big Jim had been dealt three aces, he became suspicious. The French have a nose for cheats, just as they do for food. They can smell a rat!

  “Then Henri saw that a tiny mirror had been planted in the corner behind me. And forgetting about his leg, and that the dealer was thirty-five pounds heavier than him, Henri jumped on the dealer.”

  Bella and I put our hands over our mouths, holding our breath.

  “The next thing I knew, Henri had flipped him over and had pinned the dealer down on the floor. He must have been a champion wrestler in his youth, for while he held the dealer with one hand, he reached down his sleeve with the other. When he pulled it out, he was holding three more aces and a pair of kings!”

  “My God!” we exclaimed.

  “Big Jim knew his plan had been turned upside down, so he began to run. But he hadn’t counted on the woman who had been serving us drinks. She stuck out her foot as he was running for the door, and Big Jim tripped and fell. Then she planted her heel on top of his chest. That girl was a hero! We all cheered!

  “Big Jim, we found out, had paid the dealer a hefty sum to have him in his pocket, so to speak. He only agreed to a rematch because he knew he would win.”

  “That’s some story,” I said to Vladimir through gritted teeth. I was furious. How could he have bet all our lives and so many peoples’ jobs? How could he have bet the queens’ inheritance, and Emily and Bess?

  Bella was relieved, but I could tell she felt the same. We were angry, and Vladimir knew it. “After things calmed down,” he concluded, “I sat on a barstool, shaking from top to bottom, as if I had just been pulled out of a frozen pond. Henri slapped my face, then handed me a coffee to help bring me to my senses. Then he insisted on calling a taxi and taking me back to my hotel room.

  “I almost ruined our family. I know it was just plain stupid behavior,” and Vladimir started to gently weep. “I had no right to be so reckless, no right to risk our future. I owe Henri a lot.” Vladimir lifted his head.

  “His daughter, Juliette, is an equestrian. I know you’re angry, Bella, but I’d like you to pick out one of our finest horses and arrange to send it to Henri in Baton Rouge as a token of our gratitude. He’ll give the horse to Juliette.” Vladimir looked Bella straight in the eyes. “It would mean a lot to her.”

  “What happened to Big Jim?” I asked.

  “We decided it wasn’t in our best interest to have him arrested—we didn’t want to risk our own reputations, or those of our circuses. The dealer was sent packing—he’s probably in Texas by now cheating someone else, but he won’t return to these parts. The driver who was quite mysterious vanished and we didn’t see him again.

  “Big Jim failed to steal our circus and his reputation is in ruins, but we’ll have to be on the lookout for him. He’s not a happy man.

  “Before I left Atlanta, I found a Russian Orthodox priest,” he said, looking at Bella. “He had me repent for my transgressions and said I needed to tell you what happened. It would help to wash away my sins,” he said. “Bella, I needed to hit rock
bottom to see all that I could lose. You, the circus, and the queens—I couldn’t bear living without you. Please forgive me…

  “Such fools we can be,” he said directly to me as if I should understand.

  I stared right back at him and pulled from my heart the words that seemed most fitting. “It’s what one does with the hand they are dealt that makes the difference.” This stuck with me, like all good clichés do, because of its element of truth.

  Chapter 27

  “Roman is smitten with Spade,” Louie the lion tamer declared of his son. Since I was a fortune-teller, all sorts of problems landed at my carriage door. In this case, Marvin had suggested that Louie discuss his worries with me.

  “Ever since the day we arrived in the middle of Spade’s act, he’s thought of nothing and no one else. Every night before he falls asleep, he plays Spade’s performance over and over in his head. He believes that if he thinks of her when he closes his eyes, he’ll see her in his dreams.”

  “They’re young, Louie,” I told him.

  Louie fumbled with the keys on his belt. Obviously he had something else on his mind. “Donatella, I’m afraid Roman witnessed more than he should have when his mother left us,” he finally blurted out. “I’m worried we damaged him. His mother tried to ease her troubles with drink. I explained to Roman that his mother was sick, but what a young boy remembers is that the first woman he put his faith in abandoned him.”

  “Roman will be fine,” I reassured him. “Spade feels safe with him, and she has good instincts.”

  ¯¯¯

  It was true—Roman and Spade had become inseparable. The day after he came to the circus, Roman couldn’t wait to go to school, knowing that the girl on the high wire would be there, too. When he walked into the tent where their lessons were held, he told Spade she had an interesting name.

  “I was named after a queen,” she replied. And from that moment on, he followed her everywhere.

  Eventually, the other queens had no choice but to accept Roman. Tall for his age and lean, with his shirttails always escaping from his trousers, he was like the favorite overcoat that Spade wore every day; and she wasn’t going to throw him out. She often asked him to join us, and he always jumped at the chance. I wondered if she knew her power over him. I don’t know how much interest he really had in the elephants, but he would do anything that pleased her.

  Unlike Spade’s sisters, Roman was truly interested in plants and wildflowers, so my portable classroom grew. I showed them how tea made from slippery elm bark could soothe a sore throat, and other herbal remedies. “Irina taught me these things,” I told Spade. Ever since her trip to Savannah, anything to do with Irina held special meaning for her.

  Roman and Spade’s friendship grew deeper. It was evident even in the way they played simple games like hide-and-seek. Although they traveled throughout the South, from Baton Rouge to West Virginia, some things stayed the same. Roman would hide with the lions, a place Spade would never venture; and Spade would hike to the top of the ropes and wait for Roman to shout, “You know I’m afraid of heights!” They infuriated each other, but it was the only way they could express their feelings.

  Roman tried to keep his infatuation to himself, but it was clear to all that he loved Spade in spite of the ache his father told me he felt when she was near.

  ¯¯¯

  As much time as Spade spent with Roman, though, she devoted at least twice as much to her act. “Spade’s determination is going to make her a star,” I told Vladimir and Bella. We were playing cards by the fire. The chorus of crickets in the grass were chirping so loud they almost drowned out our voices. I had just laid down two kings, but that didn’t interrupt our perennial favorite subject, the queens.

  “I think it’s time for the queens to greet the children after each matinee,” Vladimir said. “Besides it’s a tradition in my family. In Russia, the schoolchildren knew my father, and when he married my mother and they had me, children came to our circus so they could meet me, just as their parents had met my father. The people got to know us, and we got to know them. It made the circus personal, Bella. Donatella can tell you. Over the years, we watched each other’s families grow and our families became like old friends. I’d like our daughters to experience this.”

  Bella went inside and brought out a fresh peach cobbler, surprising us with the recipe Polly had asked Ben to deliver to me—fresh Georgia peaches with a pinch of this, a handful of that, and a dollop of vanilla and sugar under a crumbly biscuit topping.

  “The girls will have their cobbler in the morning,” said Bella. “We can talk to them about greeting the children then.”

  After we’d all cleaned our plates, we got back to another game of cards.

  “I’m glad you see it too, Donatella. I believe Spade has the Vronsky gift. Every night when the lights go down, she turns walking the wire into an art form. Her vision is so sharp she can see right across the big top to a little queen of spades that she cut out from my favorite deck of cards.” Vladimir smiled. He was doing much better, on his way to being once more the man I’d always known him to be. She’s young, but she has genius!” he bragged, his eyes shining. “She uses the card to balance and stay focused. So intuitive.”

  “The schoolchildren will learn much from her,” I added.

  “Vladimir can barely stay in his chair when he talks about Spade,” Bella said, smiling at him. “He’s so proud.”

  Everyone knew, though, that Ann Marie also filled his heart with pride. Inside the big top’s magic circle with a scarlet plume tucked in her headband and her long auburn hair trailing behind her, like her mother and both her grandmothers, Ann Marie’s skill and beauty became legendary. Standing upright on the back of her stallion, she waved to the audience and sometimes threw a kiss or two.

  She was sassy in a polite kind of way, and passionate. I believe part of her gift was innate, and some of it came from our own Samantha Divine. The people loved her. They’d walk miles, climb hills, find their way from cities, cross lakes and oceans to see her perform. Everyone wanted to be a part of it and say they had seen the scarlet Ann Marie Heart.

  I tried to teach Ann Marie how not to give too much of herself away; an audience’s adoration could be enticing to a teenager and swallow her up. “There will be people who will want to take and take and take. For now, it’s best you save yourself for your parents and sisters,” I told her. “Someday this will change, and you’ll share your deepest secrets with someone worthy of your heart.”

  I could tell that she’d heard what I had to say, but she cleverly diverted the conversation. “Is Marvin nice?” she asked. “You know what I mean—do you like him?”

  I didn’t want to answer, so I changed the subject back to her and her sisters.

  ¯¯¯

  The four queens became like daughters to me, or nieces as Bella preferred me to say. Vladimir more like a brother, and Bella like the sister I never had. My jealousy over the years melted by her generous spirit that allowed me to love her children. She believed that the love I had to offer the queens would make them better people, and I hope it did.

  And as different as the suits for which the queens were named—heart, spade, diamond, and club—it became clear they could not be broken apart, for each possessed what the other one lacked. Together, they were strong; but take them apart, and the house of queens would collapse.

  I believe Ann Marie’s gift was her big, loving, passionate heart. It put people at ease and made them comfortable in her presence. Spade, Diamond, and Lucky depended upon it too; the warmth Ann Marie radiated softened the sharp edges of their souls and filled in the empty spaces in their own hearts.

  Spade’s vision was almost supernatural. She could see things invisible to the other three. “Look out for the spider web at one o’clock,” I heard her warn her sisters one night. “You don’t want to wear that on your head.” The owl of the bun
ch, she liked to stay up late. She would spread her protective wings, determined to avert any harm that might sneak in. That included boys bent on seeing Ann Marie.

  Diamond sang songs and inspired her sisters to paint. She captured their essence perfectly in music and art. “Our Diamond must have come from someplace mythical,” I heard one of them say. “She sounds like the sirens we read about in Donatella’s books.”

  “She’d better watch out,” Spade said. “Or one day we’re going to find her head carved on the front of a ship.”

  “Or maybe on a poster in Greenwich Village,” Lucky chimed in.

  Lucky’s mouth was rarely closed. She read poetry and attempted to write limericks, and soon she discovered that not only could she feel a beat but she was clever, too, and when she got excited, she shrieked. “I can’t help myself,” she’d say. “It just slips out.”

  Lucky’s lungs had an impressive capacity; she could scream louder and longer than a sax player could hold a high note, but late one night Lucky’s shriek saved us all.

  One night, when everyone was sleeping, the sound of something dropping woke Lucky up. Her nose began to twitch. By the third twitch, she recognized the smell, and with a scream that could have brought the lava out of Mount Vesuvius, she yelled, “Fire!”

  Everyone in the circus heard her and woke up. The stagehands came running with buckets of water, throwing them on each of the queens to get them safely out through the flames. Thanks to Lucky’s lungs, and the power and projection of her yell, everyone survived, including all the animals. Marvin created a special medal and awarded it to her for this feat, and she could not have been more proud.

  ¯¯¯

  Marvin Carpenter—charismatic, well spoken, intelligent, and known to our audiences as Marvin the Marvelous—came to play a bigger part in the life of the circus as time passed. He also began to play a leading role in mine.

  I was quite an enigma to Marvin, at least early on; he felt uneasy about letting me get too close. “You see layers, Donatella, that sometimes I’d prefer you didn’t,” he’d say. But this didn’t stop him from asking me to dine with him, spend my free time with him, or read his palm.