He grinned at her. "That's a start."
Claire led them all into the house to show them where they would stay. Nonna's room was the small unused downstairs study, furnished for her visit with a bed so that she wouldn't have to climb the stairs. Eva, Julie and Gabrielle were to share a blue upstairs bedroom with curtains of dotted swiss billowing languidly inward from the windows.
"Such a pretty room!" Julie told Claire, pleased by the view of trees and gentle hills.
"Do you like it? I'm so glad! I washed the curtains just for your visit, and I made the duvet covers myself." Claire whirled around the room, adjusting the height of the window sash, flicking an imaginary speck of dust off the dressing table. Julie had forgotten how Paul's wife fairly sparkled; her warmth and enthusiasm made seeing all the Andrassys together again easier than Julie had expected.
Nothing would do but that they must tour the rest of the house, and so they stopped by the bedroom where Albert bunked with Claire's two teenage sons—Sam, who was working that day, and Eric, away at summer camp. They peeked briefly into the snug sewing room that served Stephen as an office and was where he slept alone on the pullout couch. They saw the big corner room that was Claire and Paul's master bedroom. Then they trooped out to the field where Michael was staying with his family in a two-bedroom mobile home. It had once been occupied by the foreman of the dairy but was no longer in use, since most of the farm had been subdivided into tracts.
"There's cold watermelon on the back porch," Claire announced after they'd seen everything, and they gathered to rock in slat-backed rockers and to cheer on Michael's two children, who engaged in an impromptu watermelon-seed-spitting contest.
Stephen sat on the floor beside Julie, eating watermelon for the first time. He wasn't sure if he liked watermelon or not; there were so many seeds! But he did like listening to her talk about the long drive from Venice to Peaceable Kingdom with Nonna and Eva, taking pleasure in the way she laughed about the lunch they had eaten in an awful fast-food restaurant along the way.
Finally, when they had talked themselves out and the children had run away to catch grasshoppers to put in a Mason jar with holes poked in the lid, the talk died down and they sat too lazy to move. They inhaled the scent of roses, which were the shade of garnets, and watched clouds billow softly across a sky of brilliant sun-washed blue.
Nonna rocked gently in the shade of a wisteria vine, her face peaceful. "All my grandchildren are here," she murmured softly. "And my great-grandchildren, too. Oh, Julie, I am so happy."
And in that moment, Julie was happy for her.
Still, she had a feeling that it was going to be a long two weeks. The Amazing Andrassys would begin training on the wire tomorrow.
Chapter 4
The next day promised to be flawless, with white clouds like paper cutouts pasted against a pale blue sky. Stephen headed to the meadow early, whistling as he went. Today he felt happy and buoyant with anticipation.
He began to check the practice cable that he'd strung three feet above the ground between two trees. He concentrated so completely on his task that he was surprised to see a figure working its way toward him, not on the path he had made, but through the tall grass.
Julie approached quietly. At first he thought she was Eva. But then he saw the ponytail bouncing around her shoulders. Juliana, he thought, but the wire required concentration. He kept pulling the metal eye toward the hoist hook, finally fastening it.
"You're out early," she said, standing in grass that reached her knees.
"So are you," he said. He ran a cloth over the cable.
"Want me to help check for kinks?" she offered suddenly and unexpectedly.
He tore off a piece of the cloth and tossed it to her. "You start at that end of the wire, and I will start at this end."
She began to wipe her bit of cloth along the cable. "I saw Grandfather Anton and my father and Uncle Bela do this many times," she said by way of explanation. "No meat hooks, that's important." Meat hooks were broken wires that could stick up and do damage to an unaware wire walker's foot.
They worked along the cable, Julie shooting surreptitious glances toward Stephen. He didn't try to start a conversation, and she supposed she should be grateful. But she wasn't.
"Where did you get the wire?" she asked after a while.
"Paul kept it here on the farm, lying in those weeds over there." He gestured toward a thicket.
"I didn't know Paul thought that there would ever be an Amazing Andrassy act again."
"He didn't. He just figured that in case it happened, it would be good to have aged wire. Now let's switch sides, and you rub your cloth the opposite way. It is best to double check each other."
Julie concentrated on her task. This looked like good, sturdy wire, and due to its outdoor aging, there seemed to be no grease left in it. During the manufacturing process, steel cable was greased, and the grease had to be removed before it was ready to be used. Grandfather Anton had been a fount of knowledge about the wire, and he'd taught all of them well.
"Now," Stephen said with satisfaction, "we are done." He stepped back and rested a hand on the cable. He looked pleased and sure of himself.
"I thought you were going to practice in the barn," she said, wondering why, if that was so, Stephen had stretched this cable between two trees.
"First I want to begin outdoors. I want us all to feel the fresh air, to breathe it, to become one with nature. Then it will be easier to conquer the strongest force of nature—gravity. Do you not believe this?"
"I don't think about it," Julie said. She had no intention of listening to such nonsense and threw the rag to Stephen.
"Juliana," Stephen said in a low tone. He blocked her way, standing there in jeans and a gray T-shirt with the sleeves torn out. The shirt didn't cover his stomach but was cut off to reveal the tight, hard muscles there.
"I want to explain something to you."
She stared at him mutely, wishing he would move aside so she could pass.
"A cable in the air connects two points in space," Stephen said, his eyes glowing with passion. "If I walk the cable, then I am the connector. I am the person who makes those two points one."
She was caught up in his intensity, in his purpose. It was clear that he believed wholeheartedly in what he was saying.
"There are spaces to be connected between members of the Andrassy family before they can be as close as they were in the old days. When the family again performs together on the high wire, they will no longer be apart in loneliness. Do you understand?"
Julie suppressed a sigh of impatience. Okay, so Stephen believed himself to be the instrument for reuniting her family. He was not only the walker of the real wire, but the walker of the invisible thread of communication he had unreeled for the Andrassys. Big deal.
"You are much too idealistic, Stephen. There is nothing mystical about walking the wire. It isn't an exercise of the spirit, but of the flesh. And the flesh is all too frail."
He wasn't fooled; he knew that she understood the point he'd been trying to make. He felt pity for her. She looked so forlorn, so unhappy.
He reached out in sympathy and touched her shoulder, wanting desperately to take her in his arms and comfort her in a way that would drive the bad memories from her mind.
She stared up at him, momentarily distracted. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes wide and shaded by richly fringed black lashes. She was perhaps the loveliest woman he had ever met, and achingly vulnerable.
"Oh, Juliana," he said, and he couldn't stop himself from inclining his head downward until their lips met in a kiss so soft and gentle that it might have been the wind brushing her lips and not a kiss at all.
And then she was gone, dodging through the tall grass, her ponytail bobbing behind her.
One thing was sure, Stephen thought regretfully. He could not allow himself to be distracted, to feel the desire that even now coursed through his veins as he watched her running in hasty retreat.
This was no
t the right time to become obsessed with Juliana Andrassy. He must remain a man of solitude.
Now and in the following months he must concentrate on the wire, on himself in relation to it, and on combining the talents of all the other Andrassys into one integrated act.
* * *
The cousins, minus Stephen and plus Nonna, were relaxing on the front porch after their first full day of practice.
"Ooh," Gabrielle said, closing her eyes. "I had no idea my shoulders were so tense."
"That's from all the texting you do with your friends," Michael said, winking at the others. "It's hard on a person."
Gabrielle poked him with her foot. "Somehow I have to keep in touch with my past life," she said. "Plus everyone's fabulously interested in my new one."
Julie, standing behind Gabrielle, ignored the byplay and massaged her cousin's tight muscles slowly.
"I'm next," Albert said. "Julie, you look like you know what you're doing."
"I've had lots of experience. I provide shoulder massages for my gymnastics students all the time."
"How did things go down in the meadow today?" Nonna asked. "I am expecting a report."
Claire's son, Sam, piped up. "You should see the way Stephen leaps onto the wire!"
"The man's a genius," Albert said. He was perched on the porch railing, drinking a glass of lemonade.
"I could learn just from watching him," contributed Eva.
Michael chuckled. "But watch him we're not allowed to do. We must work, work until we think we can't go on, and then work some more."
"Does that disturb you?" Eva asked.
"No. He's right." Albert took another chug of lemonade.
"Who is right?" Stephen asked. He appeared from the direction of the meadow, striding out of the darkness like a man with a mission.
"Oh, Stephen, you startled me," said Eva, who had almost jumped from her chair at his words. "We were just saying that you're right to make us work so hard."
The lamplight shining through the nearby window highlighted Stephen's biceps as he bounded up the porch stairs. Julie spared a moment to wonder if Stephen had ever been as passionate about a woman as he was about walking the wire. Then she decided she didn't really want to know.
Whenever Stephen arrived in a group, he immediately appropriated center stage. This time was no exception. "I have been checking the king poles. Albert will go up on them in the morning."
"In the morning!" Gabrielle sounded startled.
"Yes," Stephen said, unperturbed. "Albert has not forgotten any of what he learned so many years ago. Have you, Albert?"
"No," Albert admitted. "I tried for a long time to deny that part of me. Still, it comes back. Like riding a bicycle. You know, they say you never forget how."
"That is true," Stephen said. He watched Julie as she left Gabrielle and moved to stand behind Albert. Albert's shoulder muscles were taut; Julie massaged gently in her expert way.
Eva sighed. "It felt good on the wire today, Stephen," she said, tilting her head back and staring at the starry sky. "Like a homecoming of sorts."
"I'm glad you feel that way." Stephen leaned against the side of the house. The night was alive with the distant strain of crickets, and a full moon floated above the trees. He watched Julie as she kneaded Albert's shoulders. She was intent on her task, her upper lip tucked beneath her bottom one.
"Anyone want more lemonade?" Gabrielle asked, standing up.
Michael handed her his glass. "I thought you'd never offer."
"I thought you would."
Julie smiled at the easy camaraderie but sobered when she realized that she wasn't part of it. From now on, there would be jokes that she couldn't share with the others, experiences that bound them and not her.
She'd have to get used to it. She had her own life.
"I would like some lemonade too," Stephen said.
"I think I'll turn in," said Eva, who always required more sleep than anyone else.
"Me, too," said Albert, following her inside.
Gabrielle returned with two glasses of lemonade, then decided to join Claire, Nonna and Paul in front of the television set in the living room.
"How about massaging my neck?" Michael asked Julie. She took her place behind him, her small-breasted figure silhouetted against the moonlit porch column. Stephen resolutely turned his eyes away. It would not do to have sexual thoughts about Julie. Or perhaps he could have them but not act on them. He wasn't sure how this was going to play out, but he couldn't do anything that would compromise the troupe's chance at success.
"Stephen, do you think I could try getting up on the wire sometime?" This question was from Sam.
It was good to have this interruption. "If your parents don't mind."
"Paul said it was okay. Mom has her doubts, but I can make her see it my way."
"Sam, you won't be able to go on the wire during the day when the others are practicing because you'll be at work," Julie pointed out. "And you can't go up on the wire when no one is around. It wouldn't be safe."
"My job at the orchard will be over as soon as the peaches are harvested. That'll be about the first week in July."
Julie sighed in exasperation. It was bad enough to have to go on the high wire because you were an Andrassy. But Sam was Claire's son by her first marriage, and he had no need to uphold family tradition. The way Julie saw it, his leaning toward wire walking should under no circumstances be encouraged.
Michael set down his glass. "Thanks, Julie. I'd better go. It's time to read my kids their bedtime story." He stood, stretched, and hurried off in the direction of the mobile home.
"Guess I'll go see what's on TV," Sam said. He disappeared inside the house. This left Stephen and Julie facing each other from opposite corners of the porch, squared off like boxing opponents.
"So," Julie said bitterly when she was sure Sam couldn't hear. "You're recruiting a new generation to the wire."
Stephen brought the lemonade to his lips with a light tinkle of ice cubes against glass. She watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed a long draft. She inhaled a deep breath and tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach.
"Sam asked about it. Of course, I will talk with Claire and Paul and find out if they object." Casually he set the glass down on a low table.
Julie walked to the end of the porch. Here the shadows were dense; the bright moonlight couldn't penetrate the thick ropes of wisteria climbing the porch columns. She cupped her elbows in the palms of her hands and shivered.
"You are not cold, are you, Juliana?" Stephen's rich voice was close behind her.
She shook her head.
"What is wrong then?"
At first she wasn't going to tell him. But then she thought, why not? He'd barged into her life and turned it inside out. He'd evoked emotions that she had not felt in years; he'd called up unhappy memories that were best left alone. Why should he not know the pain he caused? Why should he be allowed to think that he was as wonderful as all the other Andrassys told him he was?
Resentment, already deeply rooted, grew and blossomed into bitter words.
"You are what is wrong, Stephen."
"Juliana. How I wish that you would understand." His melodious voice was a smooth counterpoint to the jagged emotions in her heart.
"They're losing their fear," she said helplessly. "It was the only thing that kept them off the wire."
"So? It is good that they lose it. They cannot walk the wire in fear."
"Eva, for instance. For years she wouldn't even go into an elevator, do you know that? Well, she got over it. But to get her on the high wire! How did you do it, Stephen? What did you say, what did you promise?"
"Eva decided for herself. The others did, also. You know that." He wanted to touch her, to alleviate her abject misery. But now he was afraid. Afraid that Julie would not find it in her heart to forgive him for what he knew to be right.
"Do you know how I feel, Stephen, when I know you're all practicing on t
he high wire? Do you think I want to lose the rest of my family, too?" The words tore out of her, ripping at her heart.
"You must not worry. I have taken every care with the rigging. I am a professional, Juliana. Nothing will happen to any of us because we are very careful."
Julie's heart hammered in her chest. Dammed-up tears made her eyes ache; where could she go to cry? There was no privacy in this house for her grief.
Blindly she whirled and ran down the steps. She headed for the driveway, not sure where she was going but knowing that she needed to be alone.
Stephen wasn't about to let her isolate herself. Guilt overwhelmed him. Julie was angry, sad, upset—and all because of him. Somehow he had to set things right.
He caught up with her as she was fumbling with the latch on a chained gate that led to one of the old unused pastures. The moonlight made everything almost as clear as day.
"Go away!" she demanded, tearing a fingernail on the stubborn latch. It ripped close to the quick.
"Here, I will unlatch the chain if you will let go," Stephen said. He was so calm, so authoritative. With eyes glazed with tears, she stepped back. He didn't question where she was going, and she was glad of that because she didn't know.
"There," Stephen said. The gate pushed open with a swish against the high grass.
Uncertainly she passed through. She gripped her hurt finger tightly with the other hand.
"Now, where are we going?"
"I—I want to be alone."
He refused to acknowledge this. "We can walk this way," he said, gesturing toward a stand of trees. "There's a narrow brook there."
A soft wind soughed in the branches of the trees. Leaves rubbed together with a whispering sound, and little fruit bats swooped and dipped overhead. Something scurried through the tall grass, and Julie wondered what kind of night creature it was. Even though the moonlight illuminated the pasture well, Julie had to admit that she wouldn't have wanted to be alone. It was unfamiliar territory. She had been a fool to run off without so much as a flashlight.
When she didn't speak, Stephen said easily, "I have explored the farm when I was looking for the best place to set up the low practice wire and the king poles. The brook is very pretty, and I've always wanted to see it by moonlight."
Touch the Stars Page 5
