The Fortune Teller's Fate

by Audrey Berger Welz

  Marvin’s favorite place to talk was while swinging in his hammock. He had procured it from a Jamaican craftsman who’d sewn two hammocks together.

  The minute the circus arrived in a new town, Marvin’s first thought was to find a spot to hang his hammock. Then he could commune with his deepest thoughts or, if he chose, completely forget them all. As I got to know him, I noticed that the longer he rocked, the more he revealed.

  Marvin explored the valleys of my heart, and I explored his. For the first time in years, maybe even since I was a young girl with Vladimir or the mysterious Frenchman who disappeared, did a man give me goose bumps by just standing next to him. I found most everything he did and said to be charming. Marvin never lost his boyish enchantment with the circus but remained constantly amazed. When he wasn’t working, or lying in his hammock, contemplating, he would stroll around the circus grounds admiring everything around him. Many times, he invited me to join him.

  “Look at the gold detail on these carriages,” he’d say, smiling with pride, as if he had gilded them himself. Or he’d sample the air like a chef sniffing his most renowned dish, as if he’d conjured up aromas of the circus all by himself. “Doesn’t the cotton candy make the air smell sweet?” he’d ask. And when he got truly sentimental, he’d testify like a Southern preacher. “Listen to the howls of the men when they’re taking down the tents. They sound like a band of brothers, chanting secrets as they work, with a few hallelujahs mixed in.”

  He loved watching the trapeze artists practicing their act. They made him think of freshly washed clothes, warm from drying in the sun. On the hot summer days of his childhood, as he waited for the circus to arrive, he would play the man on the flying trapeze on a rope swing in the backyard while his mother hung their clothes on the clothesline to dry. The role of ringmaster, though, he would only play when he was certain he was alone. Lofty ambitions, he knew, could get him in trouble.

  Ann Marie and Sam were particular favorites of Marvin’s, and the clowns riding unicycles in circles, honking their horns, always made him smile.

  The stories that Spade and I invented about the wild animals, especially Emily, inspired Marvin to dream of faraway places. “Donatella,” he’d say to me as we swung in his hammock, “one day I’m going to take you to India and Africa. We’ll see elephants on the streets, tigers in the wild, and shamans whose spirits run as deep as the waters.” Then he’d give me his patented ringmaster grin. But his favorite place of all, besides with me, was anywhere near the horses. Their beauty and power cast a spell on him, just as they had our Lillya, Bella, her mother, and now Ann Marie. Their effortless grace on a galloping rosinback sent shivers up and down his spine every time.

  Everything about the circus humbled Marvin, and he humbled me. “How lucky are we,” he’d say in the morning over his cup of tea. “Always different! What a life we lead.”

  He seemed so sunny and open, always the optimist, yet I sensed a darkness in him, a pain he was hiding. I could see it in the creases of his eyes and read it in the small cracks in his hands. I wondered if he would ever tell me what had really brought him here.

  What happened to you when you were young? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t; he would tell me one day in his own time, I was sure. I only had to wait.

  But so much revolved around Marvin, more every day. He held more than the circus in his hands.

  Chapter 28

  Every week when the circus moved to a new town, Diamond Claire would find a way to disappear. But I couldn’t help noticing that she often chose places near the lions, where Roman might find her. And although she was much younger, and Roman’s heart belonged to Spade, I suspected that she wanted Roman to save her.

  ¯¯¯

  One day, when Diamond was ten, she and her sisters were playing Olly, Olly, Oxen Free. It was Spade’s turn, and when she got close to Diamond’s hiding place, Diamond took three steps back and fell into a pit. “I ran to find Roman,” said Spade. “I told him, ‘Come quick or Diamond might die!’ He flew as if one of the circus lions were chasing him and when we got to Diamond, he jumped into the pit, made a ladder from some vines, and lifted Diamond out.”

  I was sure that Roman had wanted to prove himself to Spade, and it looked as if he had.

  Bella sent Boris to fetch me the moment Roman brought Diamond to their tent. Diamond had hit her head, and her back was covered in blood. She drifted in and out of consciousness for several days, a look of contentment on her face, occasionally calling out her savior’s name. And when she wasn’t shouting for Roman, she was asking for her favorite Arabian horse, whose name was Ali Baba.

  We held a vigil around her bed, never leaving her alone. We didn’t know if her condition would improve or get worse; we could only watch her and hope. Diamond’s spine had been badly bruised. We took turns wiping the sweat off her forehead and swatting the mosquitos that got in the way.

  I waited for the swelling to go down to see what damage had been done. I looked for signs that Diamond’s spine was healing. The dancer in me prayed for Diamond’s legs. I called on every god I could think of, used every homeopathic remedy Irina had taught me.

  “Donatella knows everything about medicine and herbs,” Bella tried to reassure Vladimir. “Diamond couldn’t be in better hands.”

  Ann Marie, Spade, and Lucky visited every day. Marvin stopped by whenever he could, watching as I laid amethysts and crystals around her bed.

  “Why is there an amethyst also around your neck?” he asked, and I told him it was there to help me focus. I wrapped Diamond in herbal compresses and gave her arnica for pain.

  Finally, the swelling began to go down. I’d never been so happy as the day I saw her wiggle her toes and sit up.

  Diamond never doubted she’d be fine, and she put up a fight when I insisted she stay in bed. “It was just a little hit on the head and a scraped back, Aunt Donatella.” But I didn’t yield.

  Eventually we returned to our routines. Diamond spent many hours by herself and she discovered that she liked the solitude. By the time she was healed, her affinity for all things unexplainable had grown even deeper.

  Lucky didn’t understand where her sensible sister had gone. Finally having to accept Diamond wasn’t going to change, she switched her allegiance to Ann Marie.

  I proceeded by pointing out every talent Lucky possessed, but nothing seemed to work. It appeared, for the moment, that she wanted to be anyone except herself.

  As far as Lucky was concerned, Ann Marie could do no wrong. Ann Marie couldn’t help but be charmed by Lucky’s adulation. She did her best to give her little sister the companionship she craved, even tying a scarlet bow in Lucky’s hair. But sadly for Lucky, she couldn’t stop time, and there was an ocean between being a girl and a teenager.

  ¯¯¯

  When Ann Marie and Spade turned thirteen, their bodies weren’t all that began to change. Like many girls their age, they became focused on whatever was popular. They begged the older acrobats, and Sam, to teach them the latest dances and the newest lingo.

  On one of our walks to visit the elephants—outings during which I often learned a lot—Spade told me that she and Ann Marie wanted to know what was going on in the world. “Sometimes we feel isolated,” she confided, which puzzled me; surely the girls had seen more than most people do in a lifetime. “Isn’t that right, Emily.” Spade would look at Emily for agreement, then pout at me expecting approval, then continue with the assumption that I would go along with her. “We want to feel the beat of what’s happening around us. We talk to all the children about the circus after the matinees, and that’s real easy—but when one of the kids asks what we like to do or who we listen to when the show’s over, we don’t have an answer. So we’ve asked some of the older girls to help us out. Don’t you think that’s smart, Aunt Donatella?” I was at a loss for words.

  The equestrians showed the girls how to shimmy and dance
the Charleston and taught them the newest words. One night at dinner, I thought Bella and Vladimir were going to spit up their soup when Diamond started to sing, and Ann Marie, looking at Spade, said, “Well, ain’t she a sweet canary?”

  Spade paused, then came back: “That broad can really sing!”

  I wanted to laugh out loud, but I knew Bella and Vladimir wouldn’t appreciate my encouragement.

  The older twins became rebellious, abandoning their royal etiquette. But people of court never have been held to commoners’ rules. Occasionally they’d tell me about one of their escapades, so vividly I could imagine I was there. Like the time they eavesdropped on a nearby revival meeting…

  ¯¯¯

  “Spade, you’re making too much noise,” whispered Ann Marie.

  “You’d be lost if I wasn’t able to see for two,” Spade snapped. “Besides, no one can hear us over the racket these crickets are making.” She looked over at Jimmy, the older brother of one of the equestrians. “You’re sure you know where this cabin is?”

  “Of course,” Jimmy replied. “I was there last night.” Just then, they all heard the faint sound of singing somewhere ahead. “That’s them,” Jimmy said confidently, and they picked up their speed, weaving between saplings and ducking below branches.

  They moved forward, lured by the soulful voices echoing across the valley. Hiding behind rocks and trees, the three of them crept stealthily into the clearing around a little white wood-frame church. Through the warmly lit windows, they could see hands raised, bodies swaying back and forth. At the end of each line of the preacher’s sermon, the people roared out their approval: “Hallelujah!” A deep-throated woman began to sing “Amazing Grace,” and everyone joined in—even a horned owl in the woods. The fireflies seemed to be blinking in time, and coyotes howled along at the end of each verse from the rocks down by the creek. Ann Marie, Spade, and Jimmy were riveted, drawn like moths to the flame. As cautious as a fox, they stalked closer through the tall grass, then climbed onto a rock outside a window to get a better view. A man inside was taking out a guitar from its case, and another held something the girls had never seen. “That’s what they call a washtub bass,” Jimmy said, eager to sound like an expert. Spade and Ann Marie looked at each other when the man began to pluck the strings. It was as if they had just witnessed the most incredible circus trick.

  Then the man with the guitar started to play and all of the people joined in singing. Their voices got higher and louder, and soon all of the bodies in the cabin, no matter what their age, were moving to the music, hands and legs bouncing in whatever direction the beat took them. They lifted their voices and sang as if God had chosen to speak directly through them, harmonics tumbling like a waterfall into half and quarter tones, poured out from their souls and then slipping off their tongues. Hypnotized by the dancing and singing, Ann Marie and Spade felt their own spirits soar.

  “Do you think God will visit us like that one day?” asked Ann Marie when at last they turned back toward home.

  “I think he just did,” answered Spade. “But right now we better pray that Mama’s not still up. Good night, Jimmy, this was the best!”

  “Yes, Jimmy. The very best!” Ann Marie smiled. Spade could see by the look in Jimmy’s eyes that he’d done all this for that smile.

  Bella was in their room when they returned. They didn’t need to tell me this part; when she swore in Italian, Bella’s voice easily carried all the way to my tent. I could hear her giving them a royal verbal lashing for taking off by themselves and getting back so late.

  Later, Spade asked me if I knew the song “Amazing Grace.” Looking at her shining eyes, I could tell that, given the choice, she’d do it all over again, no question.

  However, girls that age tend to be fickle, and it wasn’t long before Spade and Ann Marie had abandoned religion for fashion. Ann Marie even dared to wear olive as she listened to a Bessie Smith record on the phonograph.

  The trapeze artist had another brother who lived up north. When he came to visit, they’d listen to records by Duke Ellington, Fats Waller, and the Dorsey Brothers while he told them stories of the Cotton Club and Harlem.

  Lucky felt left out. “Aunt Donatella, I think their brains have gone missing. We should put up a Lost Minds notice and see if anyone will bring them back.”

  Poor Lucky, I thought. This was just the beginning of growing up. If she’d had an inkling of what lay ahead, she’d really have thrown a fit.

  Chapter 29

  Marvin put a pillow under my head. He had found a little private spot with two large maple trees surrounded by blackberry bushes from which to hang his hammock. The moon was full. It reminded me of how my parents used to cradle me and make me feel safe entering the night. But this was not St. Petersburg, nor was I with my parents. I was with the circus outside of Asheville, North Carolina, enjoying the comfort of the soft breeze and how it made me tingle, or was it the man whose arms I was in, the one who had been winning my heart?

  Our bodies melted together as if we were one and I could feel Marvin’s strong hands lightly gripping my shoulders, completing the circle around me.

  I sniffed the back of his neck. It smelled like sweat. Then I nuzzled my nose in to smell him again but reminded myself I needed to stay focused. Marvin had asked me to come over. He said he had something he wanted to tell me. It had taken a long time for Marvin to believe in me and longer still for his heart to feel free, and I had a premonition he was finally going to tell me what I had been waiting to hear.

  We had become close, but still it was not going to be easy for him to trust me with his past. His childhood had become the mountain he couldn’t find his way across. Every time he got close to sharing the things that made him who he was, he’d suddenly find himself busy, and I wouldn’t see him for days. Then, when he did return, the mountain would still be there, and we wouldn’t be much farther along than we were when we began. Tonight, though, he inferred that he had made up his mind and would reveal what he had been afraid to say.

  No one meeting Marvin would think he lacked bravado, but I knew better. However, when Vladimir made him the ringmaster, he grew stronger in himself. The hardships from the past grew weaker until they no longer had power over him.

  We moved from the hammock to the fire outside his tent and huddled together with an old wool blanket wrapped around us, drinking my special cinnamon cardamom tea. The stars up above shined as brightly as I’d ever seen them. We’d been silent, listening to the wood frogs’ chuckling quacks, looking up at the sky, when he seemed to make up his mind that it was time.

  “See what looks like a red star, there? That’s Mars,” he said, pulling me closer to him. His warmth beneath the blanket was comforting. “When I was a young boy,” he continued, “the circus seemed as far away as that planet. It played no part in my life.”

  Marvin’s family lived miles from any town that the circus might come to—or anyone else, for that matter. His father and older brother were his only companions, if you didn’t count all the creatures of the forest: the deer, squirrels, and wild turkeys, which he loved to watch, sitting quietly for hours on a fallen log. His younger brother at that time was only a baby. His mother was as cold as his father was warm. She used her work and chores as a way of distancing herself. She cooked and she canned and she kept the house neat, but he couldn’t remember a kiss or an “I love you” from her. His father had once said that it wasn’t her fault, but he gave no explanation.

  However, Marvin had known no other life, so he just accepted what his father said. They were all that he needed, but his life was about to change. Soon he would yearn for a world more expansive than the one he was living in.

  “When I was twelve years old,” he said, “my father suddenly died, and everything I’d relied on as constant and safe was turned upside down. The doctors told our mother that our father’s heart simply gave out, but I often wonder if he died b
ecause it had starved.” Marvin shrugged as if he were still searching for the answer. I sat in silence, wondering if some of this loss was what had brought Marvin and me together.

  “The next summer, my mother married a man who could only be described as a brute. I guess she thought he’d take care of us. But the only good thing he did, as far as I was concerned, was move our family to a bigger town, a town the circus passed through. Perhaps that was enough,” he said reflectively. “No…no matter how I try, I can’t make it a good thing. My mother let us down when she married him, and there was no one left to protect us.

  “Then one day I saw a way out, and that’s when my life changed.

  “It was August. I was fifteen. Sweat was dripping off my body, and my undershirt was wet. I’d been out delivering papers for hours in the glaring sun, and all I could think about was the swimming hole my brother and I planned to go to when I got home, the dark, cool water under the overhanging trees. But when I stopped to buy a soda on Main Street, a brightly painted poster in the store window caught my eye. There were lions, tigers, and bears and a trapeze artist flying through the air.” He paused, as if imagining himself standing on the hot sidewalk, holding a sweating bottle of cold soda as he looked into the storefront window that day. “The letters on the poster were so colorful and bold, I inched closer to read them. They said that the circus was coming to town the next week. I swear, Donatella, I jumped on my bicycle quicker than a grasshopper and pedaled home as fast as I could.

  “I wanted to see the expression on my older brother’s face when I told him the news.” Again Marvin stopped for a minute, then shook his head, “Neither my brother nor I had ever been to a circus. Actually, we’d hardly been anywhere at all.

  “After we moved, I didn’t have a lot of friends. The ones I did have—well, with a stepfather like mine, I didn’t want to bring them home.