However, from the day she saw their show, Spade pleaded relentlessly to be allowed to walk the wire the Wallenda way. Eventually Vladimir gave in. When Spade made up her mind, she was an irresistible force—she and Ann Marie had that in common. Bella usually took pride in Spade’s strong will, but this time she was uneasy. “Just this once, I’d rather she’d been less stubborn. I can’t sleep, thinking of her up there without a net.”
“She’s a pro,” Vladimir insisted. “She’s been on the rope or on a balance beam since she could stand.” No matter how he pleaded her case, Bella and I were not happy, and neither were the other queens. Still, we had to admit, Spade’s act was thrilling.
Tonight, it would be put to the test: she would walk the wire without a net in front of an audience, though she hadn’t announced it in the program bill.
¯¯¯
Spade climbed to the top of the platform and opened a big parasol, the colors of the rainbow, holding it over her head as she walked along the wire. Thrilled, the crowd cheered after the first part of her act. Then they heard some commotion from below and looked down to see that men were unfastening the safety net, pushing it to the side. The crowd gasped. Spade waited for the audience to quiet down, refusing to move until nothing but the sneeze of a child broke the silence. Then she readied herself for her first step, reached for three plates, and took three steps.
The audience had settled down. Spade had their undivided attention. Rumors about the net had spread before the performance; one stagehand had seen Spade rehearsing and told another. But to actually see it—that was different.
Music swelled as the organist played one of Spade’s favorite songs, “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows.” Although the lyrics were rather dreary, the melody—adapted from Chopin’s Fantaisie-impromptu—was divine, and Spade loved the line, “My schemes are just like all my dreams, ending in the sky.”
For a second, Spade seemed to wander off. I wished I had Marvin’s hand to squeeze. Then quickly she returned, took a deep breath, and prepared for her next step.
Focusing on the cutout queen of spades taped up on the other side of the tent, Spade began to juggle the plates and sing along to the song in her beautiful alto voice. At the end of each eight-bar phrase the organist played, she threw the plates higher than she had in the eight bars before. The anxious crowd below began to smile. Spade didn’t miss a note.
By the time she’d got to the other side, the song had reached a crescendo, and Spade was in a trance. She dismounted, and the roar of the audience broke the spell. To a standing ovation, she took her final bow. “Queen Spade! Queen Spade!” the people yelled and stomped until the bleachers shook.
At the other end of the rope, Spade had found her pot of gold: the adoration of the crowd below.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roman walk away. Clearly he didn’t want to encourage Spade’s newest endeavor.
¯¯¯
After that day, all of our pleading could not change Spade’s mind. She only grew more stubborn as her confidence in her skill grew. Passionate about her craft, she was determined to be the best. “I don’t have to perform every trick I read about. I just have to know I can do them,” she’d say when Vladimir objected to one of her crazy stunts. And when she needed to blow off steam, she’d come find me, and we’d visit Emily and Bess and talk about the adventures we’d have one day. This gave her time to collect her cool— a word she’d picked up from the older equestrians. The new words seemed to be piling up.
Sometimes Roman would join us on these walks. In his pocket, he always kept the compass Louie had given him on his last birthday. “My father says we never know when we’ll need it—but when you’re with me, we’ll always find our way home.” Like I told Louie years prior, he’d have nothing to worry about, for big, strong Roman, now almost fully grown, was the kind of boy who, instead of scaring us with talk of bobcats or hungry bandits on the outskirts of town, would point out the delights of nature, wildflowers, and herbs. I took great pleasure in seeing how he’d absorbed the wisdom of Irina and what I had taught him.
Chapter 31
As I watched the girls grow and change, it became impossible not to think about how much I had changed as well. I had truly become Donatella the fortune-teller.
My reputation now preceded me in every town we passed through. Many times, we’d hardly have time to set up my tent and park the carriage before a line formed in front of it. I never knew what to expect. Even the police began to seek my services.
¯¯¯
One sweltering August night, when the circus was outside Charleston, South Carolina, I heard a voice outside my tent. I pushed aside the strings of beads that covered the entrance and saw a tall, thin policeman with a frightened couple and the boy of twelve or so huddled behind him. “Come in,” I said, pushing the beads aside.
“Officer Harper, ma’am.” I’d been working all day, and I was still swathed in the layers of purple I always wore for my readings. After all, people expected me to look exotic. An amethyst hung around my neck, and a black lace veil obscured my face.
I held out my own hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
I could see the policeman’s apprehension when he entered.
“What have we here?” I asked the police officer when he finally stepped inside, followed by the couple and a boy.
Officer Harper, looking at the family, said: “It is rumored that spirits speak through Donatella. She looks into a crystal ball and sees events that reveal themselves to no one else, and we’ve exhausted our other resources. Sorry, Donatella,” he added, realizing he had just insulted me. “I didn’t mean disrespect. If I didn’t have faith, I wouldn’t be here.”
I nodded, telling him to go on.
“The Yorks—this is Mr. and Mrs. York, and their older boy, Riley—have moved here from Perth, Australia,” Officer Harper explained. The couple smiled timidly. “I believe they’re a bit nervous, but they need your help, ma’am.”
I gestured for them to sit down on a pillow-lined bench. “What is your trouble?” I said gently.
It was the dark blonde wife, her face weathered by Australia’s glaring sun, who answered. “We were on the train to New Orleans—it stops at Union Station in Charleston, you know. There was quite a crowd—everybody was getting on and off the train—and in all that bustle, we lost track of our seven-year-old son, Trevor. I’d given him a few coins—he was excited to have some American money.” She sniffled. “I think the temptation was too much—he was dying to spend them. There was a vendor selling ice cream on the platform, and Trevor snuck off the train to buy himself some.”
Officer Harper broke in. “We’ve interviewed the vendor, and he confirmed that he’d sold a chocolate cone to a boy who fits Trevor’s description and who had an Australian accent.”
Mrs. York put her face in her hands. “He hasn’t been seen since.”
I stood up and put my hand on her shoulder. “I can help you. But I’ll need a few things from you first. Can you bring me something that belongs to Trevor? Something he loves?”
“I can bring his blanket. He’s had it since he was three. I’ll get it right away.” She began to get up, but I stopped her. “Not right away. Come back in an hour.”
Mr. York frowned. “But Trevor’s been missing almost ten hours! Other police units are already conducting a search. There’s no time to waste.”
I held up my hand. “Every minute is precious—I know that. But right now there are too many people under the big top. The energy around us is chaotic. The voices will speak more clearly when things are calm.”
An hour later, I held the blanket against my cheek, hoping Trevor’s vibrations would send me a clue.
“You have to find him!” his brother burst out. It was the first time I’d heard him speak. “We—we got into a fight last night over who would sleep on the top bunk. I ended up saying stupid stuff, and we n
ever had time this morning to make up.” His lip trembled. “I think he took off to prove he’s tougher than me.”
“It’s not your fault, Riley,” said his father. “Get that out of your head.”
“Well, it may not help, but I have something too. It’s Trevor’s favorite stuffed animal.” He handed me a small kangaroo, the threadbare state of its velveteen coat witness to the fact that Trevor must have dragged it along everywhere he went.
I smiled at him as I took it. “Riley, I think that may help very much. Now, you all must be very quiet while I concentrate.”
I closed my eyes. The room was absolutely silent except for a small rustling sound: Trevor’s mother couldn’t stop fidgeting with her skirt. I knew she couldn’t help herself, but I needed to block out her agitation. I focused on my crystal ball with such intensity that the ball itself almost disappeared.
It was strange. Outside this tent, I was simply Aunt Donatella, a wrecked ballerina, helpmate to the Vronsky family. But inside it, I had authority. The responsibility weighed heavy on my shoulders, but it squared them, too.
Just as the carriage had become silent, Officer Harper began to whisper to the father. I put my finger over my lips to quiet them. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Trevor’s parents scooting to the edge of their seats, waiting to hear what the spirit would say.
I asked the spirits to guide me. Can Donatella reach into the earth and sky and see the fate of Trevor behind the moon’s eyes? Speak, crystal ball, speak. The father nervously jingled coins in his pocket. Suddenly I felt the color drain from my face.
I began to quiver, oh so slightly, and in a voice not my own, I began to speak.
“Trevor is a special boy who was fooled by a rabbit that captured his imagination. He chased the rabbit to the end of the train station platform. The rabbit posed as Trevor’s kangaroo, and then he leaped off the platform, extending his back legs to hide who he really was.” My voice trembled. My shivering turned into shaking. “The kangaroo rabbit lured Trevor deep into the woods. When he was certain Trevor would be lost and confused, the rabbit burrowed a hole and disappeared into it.”
I could see the doubt on the faces turned toward me.
“Shh,” I said. “The spirits aren’t finished yet.” I took three big breaths, and when the family finally quieted down, the spirits emerged once again and spoke very clearly. I became certain I was meant to find the boy. A small gust of wind found its way in through the cracks, carrying with it a vision I needed to make sense of.
“Sorry. Please go on,” said Officer Harper.
“There is a huge live oak tree. It’s very, very old, and its branches are like the arms of a giant octopus, only thicker, wider, and much, much longer. It grows near water, in a clearing in the woods. Eyes stare back at me from the tree, and on the ground, a bear is showing its teeth and growling.
“Your boy is in grave danger. The spirits say we must rescue him before sunrise.” I lifted my veil, took several sips of tea to compose myself, and listened for more clues.
“I hear water dripping off rocks, though the sound is nothing like the waterfalls of Greenville. Maybe a spring, hidden in the woods near the giant tree. This tree is not like the others. It is as commanding as a general in the army.” I looked at Officer Harper. “Does this make any sense?”
“I think I know the place you’re talking about, Donatella. The rabbit took the boy to the tree that guards the forest, towering above all the others. We call it the Guardian Tree. The way there can be dangerous during the day, and getting there in the dark will be difficult at best.”
I thought about Spade and her almost superhuman vision, but I couldn’t put her in this kind of danger. She could slip and fall, and then what would happen to her dreams?
Officer Harper paused. “There have been sightings of hungry bears in that area,” he added. “The drought we’ve had the past few years has brought them out. There’s been a population explosion of raccoons and snakes, as well.”
¯¯¯
When the spirit’s words had dried up like the creeks in the drought, we began to map out a plan. I asked one of the circus workers to go get Roman and to make sure he had his compass. He was accustomed to looking for missing people—and what are a few bears to one who works with lions?
We sent Trevor’s mother to the police station to wait, just in case Trevor returned on his own. Trevor’s father and Riley would join the party. I would lead the search with Roman and Officer Harper’s help.
We borrowed lanterns and ropes from the circus. Roman brought his dart gun, equipped with tranquilizer darts that could knock out a lion and, presumably, a bear. Then he grabbed some nuts and honey, and we piled into the police wagon, headed toward the train station and the woods nearby.
Roman and Riley were close to the same age. Though they didn’t exchange many words, Roman expressed his sympathy, and Riley helped Roman carry the equipment.
The deeper we went into the woods, the words between us became fewer and fewer, though Riley and Mr. York periodically called out for Trevor. We took every step with care, remembering what the officer had said about snakes.
“We could use Spade’s eyes about now,” Roman whispered to me.
“That’s true,” I whispered back. “But I couldn’t let her have an accident, or be bitten by a snake.”
“Would he have gone so far from the station?” Mr. York asked, puzzled that his Trevor would travel so far on his own.
“This is no ordinary rabbit,” I replied. “This rabbit is a trickster. It appears he was showing off his powers to take advantage of a boy who wanted to believe a rabbit could become a kangaroo. I think your boy is homesick.”
“But the rabbit’s playing with my brother’s life,” said Riley, his brow furrowed in anger.
We came to a fork. One way was inviting and pleasing to the eye, the other gloomy and mysterious. “We should go the way of the darkness, dried grass, and twigs,” I said. In the distance I saw the gleam of eyes: two raccoons staring back at me. “Take another look at your compass and remember what it says,” I went on, as if nothing were wrong.
“We’re being followed,” Roman said, a note of fear in his voice.
“It’s all right, boy,” Officer Harper added, but looking at his face, I could tell he wished he’d had this night off.
A wall of rocks rose before us. We tried to find a passage to the other side, but the only way to go was up and over.
Negotiating these tangled woods and jutting rocks would have been much easier for a child, I thought. For a moment, I feared I wouldn’t make it. Then Roman took my hand, and we scrambled up the rocks together. I wondered if Spade recognized what a good young man her suitor had become.
Clearly, we were getting close to water; slippery, wet moss covered the rocks, and there wasn’t much to grab on to. Mr. York caught his leg in a crevice, gouging it. Riley ripped off his shirt and tied it around his father’s leg to stanch the bleeding, then helped him to his feet.
“I’ve heard of elves and gremlins, and of course good and bad witches, but I’ve never heard of a rabbit that could fool a seven-year-old into thinking it was a kangaroo,” Mr. York said, his voice full of doubt.
On the other side of the rocks was a big clearing. Even at night it looked lush and green after the recent rains. To our right, a creek was running high and fast.
“We’re getting close,” I said. And just as I opened my mouth and lifted my leg, ready to take my next step, a cottonmouth snake flashed its gaping white mouth. I froze. I had lived in the South long enough to know not to threaten it. So, like the ballet dancer I’d once been, I kept my left leg in the air, held my position, and shifted my weight to the right. I shot a warning glance at Roman. Our tension grew. We were strung as tight as a bow before it releases its arrow. Then Roman, doing his best to stay calm, took hold of my arm and helped me take one step back,
and then another. I followed his lead until the snake slid off into the brush. I’d never been so relieved.
We’d made our way through the clearing when I heard an owl hoot, then another. The owls told me we were on the right path. “The owls are a sign from the spirits,” I said. “Your boy is fine, though we need to find him fast.” Then we all stopped dead at a sound so frightening it would have turned Napoleon around. I wanted to turn and run, but for the sake of the others I held firm.
“Trevor!” his father called out. We thought we heard a squeak. An owl swooped down and landed on the tree in front of me. Then it flew to the next tree, and the one after that, hooting all the way. Riley and Officer Harper called out for Trevor. The owl continued to lure us on until we were just outside a ring of trees. In the middle, towering over the rest, was the most magnificent live oak.
“Pop, Pop, Pop. You found me! I’m sorry, Pop,” Trevor called out from the top of the Guardian Tree. Below him was the biggest bear I had ever seen. It was growling at Trevor as though he had invaded its home—and, as we soon discovered, he had. Off to the side, we saw a mama bear and her cub. We couldn’t tell if the bears were hungry or just afraid. Either way, we knew to keep our distance.
We waited, hoping the bears would go away. We were worried that Trevor might become tired and fall out of the tree, but the owl kept him awake by hooting in his ear.
Neither we nor the bear made a move. I had an eerie sensation that time was running out. Even the live oak tree seemed restless, its leaves thrashing in the breeze. We had to take action.
Riley took out the honey and hickory nuts he’d brought along, and he and his father snuck off to the left. They scattered the nuts and placed jars of honey on the ground. Roman moved to the right and prepared the circus dart gun. But just as the sun began to rise above the horizon, and Roman was about to shoot, a giant rabbit, sitting up on its hind legs to look like Trevor’s stuffed kangaroo, hopped out of a hole in the middle of the clearing.
The Fortune Teller's Fate Page 19
