The Fortune Teller's Fate

by Audrey Berger Welz

  Roman didn’t move or make a sound. He just stood and stared as Diamond held her sister in her arms.

  Vladimir cursed and paced and punched himself in the chest. Someone had to find Bella and Lucky before they learned of Spade’s death from a stranger. But it was too late.

  My eyes were adjusting to the lack of light. It wasn’t the darkness that had caused Spade to fall; it was the startling violent crack of thunder, like a mountain being split in half, the monster that had been hiding underneath it for centuries making his way out. I could see Marvin instructing the clowns close by to run and get torches. By now, several had been illuminated, casting an eerie flickering orange light as they moved through the audience.

  Then I heard Bella. I will never be able to forget the raw animal-like wail that escaped her as she ran into the tent. “Tell me it’s not true! Tell me it’s not true!” She took over the beating of Vladimir’s chest. Vladimir grabbed Bella and held onto her until she collapsed in his arms. In the background, Emily and Bess began trumpeting mournful cries. They didn’t have to see Spade to sense what had happened, and once they started, the rest of the animals joined in until it became a cacophony of sadness.

  The audience, in shock, was unable to move. They couldn’t comprehend what had happened or the instructions being given. Marvin was trying to keep everyone calm and get the audience safely out of the tent, but he was having a hard time getting their attention.

  I heard a man cursing, “Canard! Merde!” Children were crying. Mothers and fathers covered the faces of their young ones, trying to console them as the crowd emptied out.

  I hadn’t taken a step. The nightmarish glare of the torches, the unearthly trumpeting of the elephants, the horrified faces of the audience—it seemed all to spin around me, making me dizzy, and my sweet lovely Spade was lying on the ground in front of me, dead.

  Lucky, who had been in another tent with the windjammer band, stormed in and went directly to Diamond. Usually the most emotional of the Vronskys, she revealed another side of herself as she talked Diamond down. She quickly assessed that she would have to grieve for Spade later. A corner of me was proud of Lucky, even as I was overwhelmed with sadness and guilt.

  Diamond clutched Lucky. Bella slowly walked over toward her daughters. I could see Diamond nod, giving Bella permission to enter the ring. Bella hugged Diamond and Lucky so tightly I thought they might die from lack of air. Then Bella gently moved some strands of hair that had fallen over Spade’s eye. As she pushed them back, we all noticed the scarlet barrette that Spade was wearing, with its faceted hand-sewn beads. Ann Marie had given it to Spade on their birthday this past year.

  I moved in closer but didn’t interfere. Bella began to sob again, barely able to catch her breath. “How am I going to tell Ann Marie?” I heard her say. Vladimir’s women held Spade’s body and each other, and they wept and wept.

  Vladimir stood on the sidelines, watching his queens grieve. He walked over to me, his face white. “It’s my fault, Donatella. I was too confident of her talent.” He grimaced as though he had been stabbed and his heart was lying on the circus tent floor, completely exposed. The pain he felt must have been almost unbearable.

  The tent had emptied by now; we were alone with Spade’s body. Vladimir gave his wife and daughters time before he walked over to his family. He kissed Spade on her forehead, and then lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the tent. A small procession made up of me, Diamond, Lucky, and Bella followed Vladimir. We didn’t know where he was leading us, but it soon became clear he was headed for my tent. Marvin had prepared a special bed there, and very carefully, as if he were afraid that he might hurt the dead, Vladimir laid her down on it. That’s where she would rest until we buried her.

  ¯¯¯

  Marvin spent hours making arrangements with the bookers and advance men, canceling the circus’s performances for the following week. After a week of mourning, we would pick up the tour in the next city on our junket, which happened to be Charleston.

  It was two days before Bella could bring herself to write Ann Marie. I helped Bella with the wording, feeding her the details that I knew Ann Marie would want to know. Sadly, given the distance, Spade would be in the ground before Ann Marie ever received the news. Bella felt it best that she find out about her sister in the form of a letter rather than a telegram or call. She wanted Ann Marie to have something tangible that she could read over and over, until it sank in that her twin sister was dead.

  I offered Vladimir and Bella a patch of earth in the small family graveyard in Savannah. I didn’t think the colonel or Irina would mind. Spade would have a peaceful place to lie, and we could all continue to be by her side in the coming years. She was familiar with the farm, and I wanted to think of her in a place that she had once told me reminded her of heaven on earth, and where she had appeared to me as an angel.

  Only our immediate family would be at the funeral. I asked Roman to join us, but he wasn’t yet able to face Spade’s death.

  ¯¯¯

  My garden in Savannah was already in bloom when I arrived, a day earlier than the rest, so I could talk to Polly and the others and help them prepare. They all expressed their sympathy.

  “In some ways, she reminded me of you with Irina when you first arrived,” Polly said. “The way she could repeat the names of all the herbs and flowers, and which ones needed shade and which ones sunlight. How she sat in the middle of your garden and waited for the hummingbirds. Yes, there was a big piece of you in that girl.”

  When everyone else arrived, Diamond and Lucky asked me questions about Spade’s visit, and I’d find them with chairs sitting in the middle of my garden, the sun beating down on them, trying to soak up the memory of their sister. They were happy to have a place where they could privately mourn.

  We buried Spade in a spot that I had set aside for myself, near a patch of Jasmine between the wildflowers of the meadow and the woods. As we laid her in the ground, we each said a prayer and then threw a handful of dirt into the grave.

  Just when I was turning to leave, three hummingbirds appeared, circled Spade’s grave, and flew away.

  ¯¯¯

  Marvin arranged a tribute to Spade, an hour before we would reopen the circus gates in Charleston, so all of the circus people and their friends could pay their respects. He had accepted the privilege of organizing this sad affair as the rest of us were all rather numb. I was not looking forward to yet again having to confront the reality of Spade’s death. Deep down, we all wanted to get back to our routines, to help keep our minds occupied and pretend this never happened.

  Marvin rented a 1929 Packard limousine and a driver to take us from the farm in Savannah to Charleston. Built to hold seven, it had an intercom in the back so that we could have our privacy but still communicate with the chauffeur.

  On our way to the circus grounds, the streets were unusually busy. “I wonder what’s going on.” I said. “There was probably some sort of accident.”

  The closer we got to our final destination, the slower the traffic moved. Then we noticed cars parked along the side of the road and policemen directing a throng of people making their way along the street. We were utterly perplexed as to what the commotion was about.

  “Everyone seems to be going the same way we are,” Lucky pointed out. “And they’re all dressed in black.” Right then, a police car with flashing lights appeared behind us. We pulled over to the side. When I saw Officer Harper jump out of his car, I understood.

  I smiled at Officer Harper—the first smile that had touched my face in days—and asked him what he was doing. He looked at me kindly and said, “I thought you might need some help.”

  Word had spread of Spade’s tragedy, and the many adults and children who had come to the circus over the years to see her perform, ask questions after a matinee show, and felt a personal connection with her and her family all wanted to pay their
respects. Others came because they sympathized with our loss. Overwhelmed, I felt my eyes brimming with tears of gratitude.

  We arrived at the circus grounds to a crowd of hundreds singing “Amazing Grace” in harmony. Vladimir and our family climbed the podium Marvin had had erected, Officer Harper and his men took off their caps, and the crowd stopped their singing, followed suit, and bowed their heads in silence.

  Vladimir swallowed the lump in his throat and began to speak. He talked about Spade as a little girl and her dedication to her craft and her family. He mentioned her twin Ann Marie and their love of the circus, and how all of the queens loved everyone who was here in attendance. Vladimir spoke of Spade’s kindness and of her extraordinary eyesight—how she would focus on a cutout of the queen of spades that she had taped on the other side of the tent. And when he heard a mournful trumpet outside, he mentioned the special relationship she had with an elephant named Emily.

  “The Lord has taken our dear Spade to be his messenger in the sky, for she was always chasing rainbows on the ground. He needed someone as sweet as the nectar of a flower is to a hummingbird to sing him her favorite song. Now neither our Lord nor our dear Spade will ever be alone. How sweet the sound.” When Vladimir had finished speaking, he bowed his head, and there was a minute of silence.

  During the minute of meditation, I quietly stepped off the podium. Before the ceremony, I had asked Marvin to bring the calliope in and place it close by. It had been years since I had played anything that resembled a piano, but I knew the notes in my sleep. I had not planned on doing this, but I felt inspired, and I silently let our organist know that I would be taking his place.

  I sat down on the bench. My hands skirted the top of a few notes, getting familiar with the keys. The minute of silence had ended. At first, the sound that came from my fingers when I pressed down on the notes frightened me. I almost left the bench. Then I felt Mme Strachkov’s hand lightly slapping my back. A one and two and three and four… I began to play, and the entire crowd joined in singing once again, “Through many dangers, toils and snares…grace will lead me home.”

  After the ceremony, Marvin hung a black wreath outside the big top with a placard underneath: “To our Queen of Spades, whose dreams ended in the sky.” In the middle of the wreath was a picture of Spade that had been taken for her proud father Vladimir the day before she died.

  ¯¯¯

  That night, the circus was free of charge in honor of the deceased. Every half hour the audience would file out, making way for those waiting their turn patiently outside. Officer Harper’s men stayed to direct the flow of the crowd. At the end of the performance, the windjammer band, with me accompanying it on the calliope, played Spade’s favorite song, “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows.” Everyone on the circus grounds inside and out stopped what they were doing, stood up, and sang along. Chopin, whose melody they sang, would have approved.

  ¯¯¯

  One week after the ceremony, Roman came to see me in my carriage.

  “I took the rose quartz necklace out of my pocket today,” he told me. “I buried it in the ground, along with my dreams. I made a small cross with some twigs, and I told Spade everything that was in my heart. I think she heard me. I could feel her essence in the air. Donatella, she hasn’t completely disappeared.”

  ¯¯¯

  Vladimir, paralyzed with grief, wandered the circus grounds, his mood so dark that friends, including me, were wary to approach him. I often found him praying by the wreath that Marvin had placed outside the big top. Several times, I heard him apologizing to Spade.

  And on a night when the moon was especially bright and Vladimir could not close his eyes, he began to count the tears on the pillow of his wife. “Like counting sheep, Donatella—nothing could help me fall asleep. Then, as I watched Bella’s tears flowing like a river, mine began to flow too. In that flood of emotions, I made a promise never again to walk the rope or watch this part of the show. The Russian high-wire walker that you have known all your life is gone. What I have loved is dead to me, just as my daughter is dead.”

  ¯¯¯

  I knew I needed to be strong, but still I felt weak. It was if a boulder had been placed on my body, causing it to break in two. In this state, how could I be helpful to anyone?

  Exhausted, I made my way back to the tent. Every muscle and joint in my body ached in a way it had not since I was a girl at the Imperial School in St. Petersburg. I got into bed and threw the covers over my head, burying myself in my own grief. I thought about Sasha my pony and wondered what happened to him, my good friend Broni and her brother, Catherine, Archie and the Bradleys, Irina, Mme Stachkov, my mother, and especially my father. So many goodbyes.

  I thought about Spade, my sweet Spade always chasing rainbows, her passion and bravery. A part of me wanted to run back to Savannah unearth the dirt where she was buried and hold her in my arms.

  A momentary calmness overcame me and I found myself reaching for my deck of cards on the night table. I knew what I’d see; still, I laid down the four queens. All but one, the queen of spades, were facing in the same direction. “Why am I different from the other three?” I remembered Spade asking.

  I had no answer then, and still, I had no answer now.

  I heard the distinct sound of Marvin’s shoes approaching and the scent of his pipe tobacco in the air.

  “You dropped something my dear,” he said as he entered the tent. “It must have fallen out of your box. I’m glad to see you’re playing cards again, even if it’s solitaire.” He handed me a playing card of a woman with long auburn curls riding a horse dressed in green. Trying to hide my astonishment, I nonchalantly put the card into my silver hammered box that held my mother’s hairbrush, but not before getting another look. I had seen this card before and I couldn’t quite believe it had showed up this evening purely coincidentally. How did it get here? Who left it and what did it mean?

  My eyelids were getting heavier. They felt like fifty-pound weights were strapped to them. I knew the mystery would not be solved tonight. I had done all that I could for the day, so I wrapped my leftover thoughts, my mysteries and sadness, all my worries and fears, and I put them in an imaginary suitcase and closed it for the night.

  ¯¯¯

  Smokey Mountains, North Carolina, 1929

  Word of Spade’s death spread. “That family deserves some misery,” Big Jim Baldwin told his new friend when he found out the news. Louie, our lion tamer, happened to be picking up supplies in Spruce Pine and found himself coincidentally eating lunch at the table next to Big Jim.

  Under normal circumstances, he would be fretting about Roman. How would his son find his way without his very best friend and the girl since boyhood he had planned to marry?

  “Actually,” Louie told me later, “focusing on something else, even something as everyday as picking up supplies, seemed to help alleviate my own grief. But then I had to run into that big oaf! I recognized him on the spot. And when I did, I quickly pulled my cowboy hat down so he wouldn’t recognize me.”

  As devastated as I was, I couldn’t help but see humor, a Russian lion tamer wearing a cowboy hat. I still couldn’t get over the fascination men around the world had with the Wild West.

  “Donatella, I don’t think they even noticed me. Besides, there was nothing I could do. If I had made a fuss, all the attention in the room would have turned to me.

  “When I sat down it, so happens, they were talking about Spade. It took everything in me to stay seated. I wanted to punch Big Jim. But then they started to speak about Vladimir and I decided I should sit still and listen. It’s been my experience, Donatella, that a cheater will always remain a cheat. Big Jim continued to say the Circus of the Queens has had a dishonest advantage for years! Can you believe he had the nerve to say we were dishonest when he was the one caught with cards up his sleeve?

  “The waitress came around for orders. It
was early in the day. Big Jim ordered ‘the usual.’ For him it was ham and eggs. He was sitting with a man he referred to as his new partner Larry and that scrawny younger cousin three or four times removed, Billy, who seemed to be in conversation with himself. But when Big Jim mentioned Vladimir’s name again, both Billy and this Larry fellow’s eyes lit up!

  “Right then, the boy behind the counter started making a chocolate shake, and he was real loud,” Louie said. “This is where I got a little lost.” He went on.

  “It was noisier, and I could only lean in so close without being suspicious. Big Jim told Larry that he knew why they had come together. ‘He makes your skin crawl, too,’ he said to this fella Larry, referring to Vladimir. But this Larry guy kept a straight face.

  “Big Jim inched in closer as if Larry was a puzzle he was trying to solve. ‘What I can’t figure out yet is what did he ever do to you?’ And Larry just shrugged his shoulders, acting like Big Jim bored him, and he probably did.

  “He’s a mean man, Donatella!” Louie stressed once more. “Beware, Donatella, and tell Vladimir, too, this man will use whatever he can against Vladimir and the Circus of the Queens.”

  Chapter 36

  Spade’s death was like the San Francisco quake of 1906; the aftershocks sometimes felt as jarring as the event itself. No place was safe. There was no escape. Our attempts to put our lives back together were constantly being undermined by a pain that never let up.

  I didn’t know what to do with my grief. Why did our Queen Spade have to look the other way and do things differently? Why? I asked myself.

  I began to rely more on Marvin. He was proving to be solid and dependable. The barriers I had for so long previously erected around the fortress of my heart quit making sense. Life had become too precious.

  Every day, just as Spade and I used to do, I went and visited Emily and Bess. Sometimes, during their rehearsal, Emily would go and stand at the exact place where Spade fell and sigh a mournful trumpet. I felt certain it must have matched the one made by Emily and her mother the day the poachers took her away. Then Bess would look back at us with her sweet soulful eyes and remind me we weren’t the only ones in mourning.