For song and cheer
Rainbows and dreams
Ten o’clock sharp tonight
Stories, verse, spirit, truth
—Diamond Claire
When I mentioned the invitation to Bella, she said that she and Vladimir and Lucky had gotten one, too.
¯¯¯
The night was crisp. It was early September and the touch of chill was reminding us that winter was just around the corner. As Diamond had asked, we all gathered by the fire outside of Bella and Vladimir’s sleeping car at 10:00 p.m. She had laid out Bella’s favorite biscotti, my special citrus and bergamot tea, and Nat Sherman cigars for Vladimir. She played her harp—no mean feat with cold fingers—and sang Vladimir a beautiful rendition of “Danny Boy.” To this day, I can’t understand how this could be a Russian man’s favorite song.
Then Diamond sang Hoagy Carmichael’s “Stardust,” which Mitchell Parish had just written lyrics for, and she sang it a cappella. She knew Bella had fallen in love with the song—which I had learned from Harsita, of all people—after hearing her practice it. Diamond was being very calculating. That’s when I became certain Diamond was about to drop something big.
A touch of mischief suited Diamond; the sparkle had returned to her eyes. But she hadn’t counted on just how well her family knew her. Even Vladimir could see the diversion she was creating when out of her lovely mouth came the most crystalline of notes.
She was about to start another song when Bella stopped her. “My sweet Diamond, we know why we’re here. Remember, when you were a child, we learned to read your body before you uttered a word. Tonight, my darling, you are perfectly transparent, especially to your mother and father.”
Diamond bit her lip and gathered her nerve. “Mama and Papa, and Donatella…” She took a second to swallow her fear, and then blurted out, “Ann Marie’s returning soon with Kyle and the baby, Spade’s no longer with us, and Papa’s turning many of his duties over to Marvin; everything’s changing and I feel it’s time for me to change, too. I’m wasting my talent. I’m not inspired. Please understand I’m not saying this to hurt you, but I’ve come to the conclusion it’s time for me to leave.”
Diamond didn’t have to wait long for a reaction. “Who do you think you are, young lady?” Vladimir immediately railed. “You’re only seventeen, much too young to go gallivanting off. I’m not going to stand by and watch my family fall apart.” With that, he got up and started to leave.
“Sit!” Bella snapped, for the first time in their marriage. Vladimir, shocked by her tone of voice, could see that there would be trouble if he didn’t comply. Sheepishly, he went back to his seat. “Go on, Diamond,” Bella urged her daughter, giving Vladimir such a look that he didn’t even think of opening his mouth. That night, it was clear that Bella ruled.
“I’ve been thinking this over for a while, since long before Spade died,” Diamond began. “I want to be onstage and act and sing. Spade’s death, and seeing how brief her life was, has pushed me to follow my dreams.”
“Where do you plan to go—New York?” Vladimir’s voice dripped with sarcasm. He just couldn’t help himself. He needed to make his presence felt.
“Yes,” Diamond replied calmly, with surprising confidence. “That’s exactly where I plan to go.”
“We don’t know anyone there!” Vladimir shouted, starting to rise from his seat, but Bella’s eyes put him back in his place.
Very quietly, almost in a whisper, I spoke up. “I do.”
“What?” Vladimir’s jaw dropped.
“Yes. Catherine. She’s Russian, the sister of an old family friend. Catherine’s the woman I stayed with when I first arrived in America. She’ll be quite old by now. We only exchange letters once a year or so, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she said yes. I think she could probably use some help. She owns a brownstone in Greenwich Village that’s quite large.”
Diamond looked at me and silently thanked me. “You would ask?” Before answering, I looked at Bella, avoiding Vladimir’s eyes. When Bella nodded, I said, “Of course I will.”
“Please understand, it’s not that I want to leave my family. It’s just that Spade’s death has made everything clear,” Diamond went on. “I need to see if I can catch my own rainbow. Not yours or hers, but mine. I promise I’ll make you proud!”
Lucky, who had been silent, chimed in, “She’s my twin. Of course she will.”
“Please”—Diamond looked pleadingly at her parents—“Spade would want this for me.” And even though using Spade’s name was not quite fair, we knew it was true.
I understood, and so did Bella, but poor Vladimir looked as if he had been run over by an eight-man team driving a circus wagon.
¯¯¯
Two weeks later, after several telegrams to New York, Diamond Claire was packed and ready to go. She didn’t want to make a big deal of her leaving and asked that we keep it a secret. She didn’t even tell Roman, but she did stop by for one last visit with her horse, Ali Baba.
“I gave Ali Baba some sugar and an apple and explained my plans.” Diamond laughed, sharing her story with me as she laid out more new hay. I had joined her in the stable as she had asked if I would stop by and visit Ali Baba each day on my way to see Emily and Bess. “He was so sweet, Donatella. He nuzzled his nose into my chest. I’m not certain if he understood me, though I think he did. Kind of the way you know when Emily understands you.” Yes, I understood.
Vladimir, Bella, Lucky, and I went to the train station with Diamond. Bella cried the entire way, but Vladimir had already shed too many tears and had none left.
“Say goodbye to Roman for me,” Diamond said to Lucky as they hugged, “and tell Ann Marie that I will miss her and that baby of hers.” Those were Diamond’s last words, but I could see she was thinking of the one who was missing as she climbed the steps to the train. Spade’s ghost hung over all of our farewells.
The porter shouted, “Last call for the train to New York,” the whistle blew, and Diamond smiled, turned her head, and walked inside, on her way to a new life.
Chapter 39
“Your father is having to extend his definition of circus,” I wrote Diamond. “Kyle’s equestrian act is different from any we’ve seen inside the Circus of the Queens’ big top. I think you’ll really like it!” Ann Marie and Kyle had returned. “He hangs upside down on Sir Charles while attached to a strap. Then he exits the ring by jumping off Sir Charles’s back while the horse is galloping. The audiences find his performance daring and exciting, which makes Ann Marie happy. Still, she sorely misses you and Spade, and the way forward seems difficult for her to find.” But soon that became true of everyone in the country. By the time I laid down my pen on my writing table and dated the letter October 29, the day would forever be known as Black Tuesday.
As if there hadn’t been heartache enough, October 29, 1929, the stock market lost its footing, and everything came crashing down. The circus, which for so many years had given me a family and so much delight, within months began to feel as if it were inhabited by ghosts. In the papers, there were stories of wealthy men who seemed to have it all, and they were jumping out of buildings and off of rooftops. Misery or fear, usually both, were etched onto the faces we saw as we continued our travels from town to town, trying to keep up appearances.
Empty and exhausted, I either plunged into Marvin’s arms or withdrew from him completely. The only time I let my guard down was when I visited Emily and Bess. Sometimes I found myself envying them. They completed each other in ways that best friends and couples of the human kind rarely seem to manage; they never expressed anger, only love and humor. Watching them, I discovered I felt better about myself; they inspired me.
Strangely, for a while, the circus business seemed to surge. At first it gave Vladimir, Bella, and I a false sense of security. We thought we had been spared. We were so caught up in ourselves that we didn’t
recognize our patrons were spending the little money they had left on entertainment and what we were experiencing couldn’t last. The world—myself included—was trying to ignore the cataclysm. Little did any of us know it was just the beginning. Even John Ringling, who the September before the crash had bought the entire American Circus Corporation, would soon find himself down from six circuses to four.
Still, during those initial months, our ticket sales were on the rise. “I don’t know why they continue coming to the circus when they lack so many necessities,” Bella said. We were in my tent darning socks, preparing for the upcoming winter and trying to be frugal. Knowing there would be little money for extras, we applauded ourselves for thinking ahead. We shuddered to think about all the people who continued to spend what they didn’t have on entertainment.
“It’s not just us,” I reminded Bella. “Don’t forget our newest competitor, Hollywood. People are enthralled with Al Jolson’s singing and the movies he’s in.”
That made us think of Diamond Claire, who was trying to get her own show business career started.
“I feel better knowing she’s with Catherine. She’s clever. She’ll get by.”
I missed a stitch and looked down to fix it. With that Bella, switched the conversation to Vladimir. “He’s lost himself in Kyle Jr.”
“There is nothing like a baby to help you hold onto life,” I said.
“Vladimir reads to him as often as he can,” Bella chimed in. “Right now, he is reading Kyle Jr. Smoky the Cowhorse. Kyle loves watching the expressions on Vladimir’s face, and it keeps Vladimir occupied.”
However, soon even bedtime stories couldn’t distract Vladimir from the circus’s problems. I had wanted to talk to him about the mysterious cards that had been left for me to find, but he had so much more on his mind, and every time I was about to begin, another trouble would surface; I was afraid if I added to the weight, he might just break.
The families who had always come to the Circus of the Queens finally drew the line when they started struggling just to feed their children. Some had lost their homes and were begging on the streets. Many small circuses were being sold, others just abandoned.
Every once in a while, I noticed that a horse had been sold or a gilded wagon had gone missing. Marvin’s beautiful dark brown hair began to show streaks of gray from worry, but he was still my rock when I would let him be. However, no one could deny that audiences were shrinking.
The Gentry Brothers, Christy, Cole, Robbins, Robinson, Sparks, 101 Ranch, and Sells Floto—they were all folding their tents. Every night I said my prayers, hoping that God would somehow spare our circus and my farm in Savannah and watch over Diamond in New York. Vladimir and Marvin insisted they continue parading down Main Street in the towns we visited. With our high-stepping horses pulling brightly painted wagons, we brought a little festivity and color into lives that had grown pinched and gray. However, during every parade when I saw Ali Baba without a rider, I missed Diamond even more.
Catherine had literally died of disappointment a few months after the crash when she found out that her bank account was empty. Her accountant had cheated her, and she had nothing left. Catherine just lay down, quit eating, and said she was ready to die, Diamond said; and then she did.
Diamond found work in a pub in exchange for a bed and food. Though she appeared strong, we knew it was hard and scary. I read somewhere that 233 plays were staged in New York in the 1929–30 season, and only 187 were planned for 1930–31. “I’m auditioning for roles,” Diamond wrote to us, ever optimistic, “and I feel sure one will come through.” She had just had a callback for the musical The Band Wagon. We were just happy to know that she had food and shelter.
The farm in Savannah was managing to make ends meet. With so much land, my managers and I had focused on us staying diversified. We grew cotton, peanuts, tobacco, and soybeans. Even so, times were tough. “Don’t expect a large crop,” Joseph, the caretaker, had recently written, warning me that the plants had begun to suffer from the lack of rain and it had just gotten worse and worse.
“How could God be so cruel to hit us with a drought on top of everything else?” I lamented to Marvin. “It’s as if we’re cursed!”
“You more than most should know that life isn’t fair,” was his response.
Savannah’s role as an important southern seaport, its pulp industry, and its large sugar refinery helped it weather the storm. However, my accountant wrote to tell me that inside the city walls, many people were getting sick, and jobs were getting more difficult to come by.
I began to feel torn between my two homes. They both needed my attention, but the day finally came when I had no choice. I received a letter with unsettling news from Joseph:
Dear Miss D,
We tried our best, but it doesn’t seem to have been enough. Between the boll weevil and the devastating drought, I don’t know which destroyed the cotton fastest. If you want to hold onto the farm, you need to come quick. I’m sorry to be the bearer of such news.
Your loyal caretaker,
Joseph
Worried about me going to Savannah by myself, Marvin asked Harsita to accompany me. As Harsita was very light-skinned, we took the risk of Harsita sitting with me, but he would have it no other way. So I decided we would ride first class so as to invite fewer questions. It was the 1930s, but it was still the South; and away from the circus, where more things were segregated, we had to travel with attitude, a sense of belonging, and not leave ourselves open to questions from strangers. If necessary, I had decided that I was a well-traveled French Russian whose best friend had married a British aristocrat and now lived in India, and Harsita was her son, Harry. No one would dare to doubt so exotic a story for fear of sounding foolish themselves.
¯¯¯
The train passed sleepy little towns, parched plantations, and shacks. The rocking back and forth of the train car put me to sleep and I drifted into dreams. When I awoke, Harsita and I spoke of Emily and Bess and how much we would miss them. We spoke of the joy they brought and all their funny antics until we arrived in Savannah.
Ben picked us up at the station. He was uncharacteristically silent on the drive to the farm. When we arrived, I understood why. The Spanish moss that usually festooned the trees around the mansion so luxuriously was dry and brown. The soil was bare and cracked beneath the yellowing crops. Even the paint on the porch columns was beginning to peel. I knew I had arrived just in time. The farm needed more than love and attention; it was going to come down to hard work.
After all their years in Savannah, Joseph and his family were closing up shop to join relatives in the Midwest, hoping to build a better life in Chicago. Polly stayed on because the farm in Savannah had become her home and there was nowhere else she wanted to go. Besides she was clever and her skills would come in handy. Polly could prepare a meal out of anything, even weeds, and make it taste good.
Ben, my jack-of-all-trades, surprised everyone by also proving to be a decent farmhand. Apparently, he could do anything and morph into whatever kind of worker we needed.
Everyone understood that if they wanted a roof over their head and food on the table, they had to pitch in; our survival depended on it.
I took off the purple dresses and the scarves around my neck, everything but my amethyst necklace. I cleaned out the first floor of the mansion, set up rooms with four cots in each, and put up signs: “Wanted: Single Young Men Who Are Hungry and Want to Work.”
Harsita took care of the animals that were left, which weren’t many. We had no choice but to return to primitive farming methods, as there was little money for gasoline. Parts that broke were scarce, impossible to replace. The horses pulled the plows. Several cows and goats were kept for their milk, and a few pigs were fattened for slaughter.
That first year, I grew muscles in places I never knew I could and calluses I never wanted to see. I developed a
commanding voice with which to bark orders and a brain for business I never suspected I possessed. Luckily, Irina’s colonel had always farmed in a way that respected the earth, and although times were rough, our topsoil was still good. I had planted soybeans and peanuts as well as cotton and several acres of tobacco, so I was blessed with some money to fall back on, which I managed carefully.
Determined that somehow we would not only survive but eventually flourish, during these tough times, I used the gifts Irina had nurtured in me and shared what I knew with my workers and neighbors. Malnutrition was rampant, and malaria had become common, so my knowledge of medicine and herbs became invaluable. I lost count of the lives I saved.
Harsita and I slept on the second floor in opposite wings. I made one of the guest rooms my parlor and another an office. The workers and vendors believed that Harsita was my nephew. And at night, when I finally laid my head down to rest, I held court with the spirit world.
Harsita and I shared the letters we received from Marvin. Lucky sent me poetry and limericks, and in the middle of the doom and gloom, Diamond penned some hopeful news: “I got a bit part (that means small, in show business) singing in the chorus of a play called Of Thee I Sing. It’s a political satire by someone named Gershwin.”
Ann Marie wrote as well, balancing Diamond’s good news with bad: “The Circus of the Queens is in decline. Papa is slowly facing the truth: we might still be the most famous Russian circus, but that doesn’t mean we are the most prosperous. As necessity has dictated, he has sold many of our animals.” She made no mention of Emily and Bess, and we were too afraid to ask.
Chapter 40
It was that magic hour, the one where daylight invisibly turns to dusk, the sky shifting from gold to red and then to an iridescent blue. The blue reminded me of my mother’s abalone hairbrush. One, two, three, a hundred times. I closed my eyes for a moment and let the memory of her wash over me.
Harsita and I were sitting on the porch with glasses of mint tea, gazing out over the green fields, which were finally beginning to look fertile and productive again. This is where we convened at the end of each day, on a porch swing, one day facing east and the next day west. We had been gone a little over a year, and up to this point the farm needed nothing less than my undivided attention and likewise the circus had needed Marvin’s. I couldn’t believe how swiftly time had passed. Only now could I begin to think about slowing down and how much I missed everyone.
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