Stephen was silent for a time, but then he reached out for her. Now, when he tried to pull her into his embrace, she didn't resist. He bent his head to kiss her, and her ferocity caught him off guard. This time Julie seemed to want to savage him in frenzied need, raking her fingers through his hair, heaving her body against his, pitching and clutching as though she were trying to exorcise all the dark spaces within herself. When at last they gasped in pleasure, needing nothing more from each other, Stephen rolled away but remained linked to her by their hands.
She sighed and smiled briefly at him before she slept, but Stephen remained thoughtfully awake until the moonlight faded and dawn shimmered beyond the mountain. When he saw the encroaching light through the uncurtained window, he knew that soon he must awaken Julie so that she could creep back to the room she shared with Eva before anyone in the house awoke.
The sun wove pale streamers of light into the gray sky, and still Stephen stared at the ceiling. Beside him, Julie continued to sleep, her breathing soft and steady. He loved her more than any other woman he had ever known, and he couldn't bear to think of going through life without her.
Yet the night was almost over, and nothing concrete had been settled. Another day had begun, and Stephen could only hope that it would be symbolic of a new beginning in his relationship with Julie.
But he was not one to depend wholly on hope. It was his style to spring into action when the situation warranted it. He understood now that the time had come to do more than wait.
The time had arrived for him to demolish the web of concealment and deceit that had paralyzed this family for so long. Newly armed with the information Julie had revealed, Stephen now felt prepared to fight for her and for their life together.
* * *
"The night of the fall in New Orleans?" Albert asked in consternation. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I would like to know what caused it."
Albert shrugged and stared into his coffee cup. They had driven down the mountain in the morning to buy a newspaper. Stephen had offered to treat Albert to breakfast, and they were sitting at a table at a small diner on the highway near the town of Tallulah Falls.
When Albert raised his eyes to Stephen's, they were hesitant. "That night on the wire," he began, and then stopped. His look was troubled.
"Go on," Stephen prompted. His curiosity was aroused. Why did Albert look so guilty?
"I've never talked about that night," Albert said in an apologetic tone.
"It's been many years since the accident, Albert," Stephen said gently. "It is all right to talk about it."
Albert was silent for a long time before he spoke. "Well," he said, "on the afternoon of the performance, I talked Tony—Julie's brother, who was killed—I talked him into sneaking out. No one was around, so we tiptoed out of our room and locked the door behind us. There was an emergency stairway right next to our suite, so getting out of the hotel without being seen was no big deal. We'd been to Bourbon Street in the morning, and we had a hankering to go back."
"You defied Grandfather Anton's rule that everyone rest on the afternoon before a performance," Stephen prompted gently.
"Yes," Albert said, seeming to pull himself back from a place faraway in his thoughts. "Anyway, we went to Bourbon Street, and there was this all-day topless bar. Tony had a glimpse inside the place when we were there that morning, and since we'd never been to any place remotely like it, we were eager to go back."
"And so you did?"
"We sure did. We drank beer and leered at the girls. Then we ran back to the hotel, sneaked back up the emergency stairway, and let ourselves back into our locked room. But you know, Stephen, I've always wondered if—" Albert stopped and stared into his coffee again as though he thought it could provide an answer.
"Go on," Stephen prodded.
Albert raised haunted eyes to Stephen. As long as he had known Stephen, Albert had never known him to be unfair or judgmental. Finally, he could get his disturbing thoughts about that night off his chest.
"I've always wondered," he said slowly, "if the beer we drank that afternoon made a difference. We weren't supposed to drink anything alcoholic on the day of a performance until after it was over." He watched Stephen levelly for his reaction.
Stephen was shaken by Albert's revelation, but he tried not to show it. "It could have made your reaction time slower," he replied, "and you might not have responded to any difficulties on the wire as swiftly as you might have normally."
"That's true," Albert said. "Tony and I—we were just a couple of young studs in those days. We thought we could handle a beer or two—I mean, what's a few beers? And it was hours later that we performed. As you know, Tony died in that fall. If only I'd said 'Hey, Tony, we'd better not,' or if I'd insisted that we order soft drinks instead of beer at the bar."
"You shouldn't blame yourself, Albert," Stephen said reassuringly. "Sneaking out of the hotel was a dumb thing to do, but who is to say that the fall was your fault? It could have been anyone's fault—or no one's."
"What do you mean by that?" Albert asked, looking confused.
"I'm not sure," Stephen said, with a curious sense of elation. "I'm not sure—yet."
* * *
Michael, enjoying this day off from practice on the wire, laughed at Mickey's antics on the elaborate play equipment near the mountain house. The sun blazed down out of a brilliant sky, picking out the red highlights in his son's hair.
Michael was happy, a family man taking the time to enjoy his children as Mickey and Tonia gamboled on the custom-built monkey bars and swings and slide. He was happy, so why did Stephen have to come around and pester him with questions about that night in New Orleans? Michael had tried his best to forget everything about it.
Stephen wrinkled his forehead. "Please think about it, Michael," he begged. "Is there anything unusual you remember about that night?"
Michael chewed on a long blade of grass. Stephen seemed so intense, and he did want to please Stephen. After all, Stephen was responsible for getting them all back on the high wire.
Michael sighed. "I was excited about going to Bourbon Street that night. And I was learning to take care of the equipment we used in the act." Here Michael's face clouded.
"Something about the equipment?" Stephen prompted.
"Yes," Michael said quietly. "There was a problem with my shoulder brace. It was my fault."
"How?"
"Grandfather Anton asked me to check the braces while the others were in the dressing room getting ready for the act. He left me alone in the corridor, and you know what I did? I smoked a cigarette."
"I didn't know you smoked," Stephen said.
"I don't. But I had just turned eighteen and in those days I thought it was a grown-up thing to do. Of course, Grandfather Anton was against the use of tobacco of any kind. He expected us to train like the top-notch athletes we were, and tobacco was forbidden."
"As well it should be," Stephen said.
Michael nodded in agreement. "I hid behind the wardrobe trunk in the corridor and sneaked a cigarette. Grandfather Anton came out of the dressing room, and he asked me if the equipment was checked out. I lied and said it was. I figured it wouldn't hurt if one time I didn't look at every brace."
"But something was wrong?"
"Yeah. The strap and buckle must have been loose or something. When we were on the wire, I felt my brace shift just a little, hardly enough to notice, and Aunt Elisabeth, who was balancing on the pole held between my shoulder brace and Uncle Sandor's, started to fall." For a moment Michael looked immeasurably sad, and then he called something to Tonia about not going down the slide backward.
"You have thought that the accident was your fault!" Stephen exclaimed in astonishment.
"I've tried not to think about it, but there it is." Michael shook his head philosophically. "Maybe it was just the breaks of the game, you know? But I can tell you one thing—I've never smoked a cigarette since that night." Michael turned his attention to
his children again, plainly unwilling to discuss this disquieting topic further.
But Stephen didn't care. He had found out more than he needed to know.
* * *
"Mind if I keep you company?" Eva asked, knocking at the open door of Stephen's bedroom.
Stephen logged out of his email account and closed his laptop.
"No, Eva, of course I don't mind. Please come in."
Eva sat on the edge of the bed. "I heard Albert and Michael talking about the questions you've been asking." She turned troubled eyes upon Stephen.
"Oh?"
"I—I thought if you wanted me to tell you anything about that night, I would be glad to discuss it."
Actually, Stephen had not been planning to ask Eva. Albert and Michael had provided him with enough information for his purposes. But he said softly, "What do you recall about that night, Eva?"
Eva shook her short hair back from her face and inspected her fingernails for a long moment. Then she took a deep breath.
"I remember how unhappy I was that I was away from my boyfriend that night."
"You had a boyfriend?"
"His name was Clark, and he was the first man I ever loved. That day of the accident was his twenty-first birthday, and his parents were giving a birthday party for him at their country club, but I couldn't go because I had to perform with the act."
"And so you sulked."
"Yes, for the whole trip."
"And you were angry on the wire that night?"
"I was having a hard time getting Clark out of my head, and that's no good, you know. You should clear everything from your mind when you're up there on that cable—but why am I telling you this? You already know it." The line of her lips was grim.
"And let me guess—all this time you have blamed yourself for the fall?"
"When Aunt Elisabeth started to lose her balance, I should have been alert enough to notice. We were both on the top tier of the pyramid, and if I'd kept my mind on business like I should have, I would have been able to counterbalance Aunt Elisabeth so that it might not have happened."
"You think that made a difference on the night of the fall? You think your personal feelings contributed to it?"
"I'm sure of it!"
"Would it help if I told you that there was probably nothing you could have done when Elisabeth faltered?"
Eva smiled a sad little smile. "No, not much."
"That is what I thought," Stephen said, and understandingly, he clasped her shoulder for a moment.
"What difference does it make?" Eva asked. "I mean, why do you want to know about that night?"
Stephen removed his hand from her shoulder and stood thinking for a moment. He appeared to be weighing something in his mind, and Eva watched him, wondering what was wrong.
"I think," Stephen said, "that it is time to have a talk. You and Albert and Michael and Paul. And Julie. For too long this family has avoided the subject. Will you help me gather them together?"
They met in the big circular living area. Eva sat on the edge of the couch; a bewildered Julie, summarily called away from counting out Nonna's pill dosage, perched beside her. Albert sat in front of the round fireplace in the center of the room, and Michael stood uneasily next to a window. Paul occupied a chair opposite the couch, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees. He looked up at Stephen questioningly.
"What's up, Stephen?" he asked.
Stephen, with a reassuring look at Julie, walked to the center of the room, where he stood and looked contemplatively around the family circle.
Julie didn't understand why her presence had been requested, but somehow she knew that this conference concerned her. She darted her eyes from one cousin to the other, searching for clues.
"It has been months since we began rehearsing for the Amazing Andrassys to return to the high wire," Stephen said. "In that time we have learned many things, and we have come to know each other in ways we never did before."
Michael lifted his head and smiled. During that time, he had become close to his brothers, sister, and cousin. His wife and children had connected with his family in a way he'd never thought possible, and Stephen was to thank for that.
Stephen continued. "I told Julie shortly after we arrived at the farm that a cable in the air connects two points in space. If I walk the cable, I am the connector. I am the person who makes those two points in space one."
Albert raised his eyebrows. Julie suspected that Albert wondered where these words were leading. For that matter, so did she.
"I believed at that time that there were spaces to be connected between members of the Andrassy family. I wanted the family to be as close as it was in the old days, before the accident in New Orleans. I knew that once the Andrassy family again performed on the high wire, you would no longer be apart in loneliness."
How could Julie have forgotten the impassioned case Stephen had made for going back on the wire that first day on the farm when she had helped him check the cable for meat hooks? And now he was looking equally as intense. But where was he leading them?
"If we are to work together in harmony on the wire, there cannot be any grudges or secrets held over from the old days. It is time for me connect those spaces—those dark spaces—you have all hidden in your minds. I am talking about the accident." His serious blue eyes scanned their faces. Julie felt the blood rush from her head, but the expression on Stephen's face said, "trust me."
But, oh, what was he doing? She thought about the night before when she had told him everything. She had emptied herself to him in confidence. Was Stephen planning to betray it?
"Stephen," she began, her heart twisting in pain. She dreaded hearing him say what he had gathered them to hear.
"Juliana, let me finish," he said purposefully, and she thought in that moment how Stephen was truly the head of the Amazing Andrassys troupe now. The way all of them looked to Stephen for guidance reminded her of their respect for Grandfather Anton in the old days. But there was a difference in style between Grandfather Anton and Stephen. Their family unity now was more democratic, with Stephen the acknowledged leader rather than a self-appointed one. And he was more than that. He was as he had wished to be—the heart and the soul of the Andrassy troupe.
"You have not spoken of the accident much among yourselves," Stephen went on. "We are not here to cry over our loved ones who were lost that night, but to enlighten the living. For too long the experience of the accident has been clouded by doubt and shrouded in secrecy, with each of you thinking that you and you alone were to blame for the accident."
Julie stood and would have bolted if Stephen had not swiftly crossed the room and slid a supportive arm around her shoulders.
"Please sit down, Juliana," he said softly. She sank back onto the couch next to Eva, who reached out and took her hand.
Paul looked uncomfortable. "Stephen, I'm not convinced that we need to put ourselves through this."
Paul was the one person in the room with whom Stephen hadn't spoken about that fatal night. Stephen suddenly wished he had. Maybe Paul would be the person to start. He was older than the others, and since he wasn't planning to perform on the wire again, he had less at stake.
"Paul, the others have shared their memories of that day and night with me. Do you have any recollections about what happened—and why it happened?"
Paul reflected silently for a moment, staring down at the polished wood floor.
"Aunt Elisabeth was upset with me," he said at last.
Julie felt the onset of panic. Everything that she told Stephen last night in privacy was going to be revealed! Why, why had she told him?
"Upset with you?" Stephen said with a sidelong look at Julie to see how she was taking this.
"Yes, Aunt Elisabeth had seen me whispering to Julie, and she guessed correctly that I was the one who invited Julie to come with the guys and me to Bourbon Street that night. She—"
"You knew!" cried Julie. "You knew we argued?" She couldn't believe tha
t the secret she had kept for so many years wasn't a secret at all.
"Only because Aunt Elisabeth told me. She was angry with me for not knowing better than to invite you. You were just a kid, she said, and I shouldn't have encouraged you to think you could go out with the guys. She was right. I knew how strict our parents and Grandfather Anton were.
"Well, before we all assembled outside the dressing room, I was in the corridor getting our capes out of the wardrobe trunk when Aunt Elisabeth marched up and really lit into me. She said that as the oldest of the cousins, I had a certain responsibility where the younger members of the troupe were concerned, and that under no circumstances was I to pull such a stunt again." Paul shook his head sorrowfully. Then he looked Julie right in the eye. "That's what happened. Aunt Elisabeth wasn't mentally prepared to go on the wire that night. And it was my fault."
"Yours!" Julie said, crying out as though someone had just slipped a knife into her heart. "No, Paul! It was my fault! I had a terrible fight with Mother and Dad and Grandfather Anton while the rest of you were resting that afternoon. It started over going out with the boys that night, but it became much more than that. I was angry because I had to work as a member of the troupe, but they never let me have adult privileges. Mother and Dad ended up yelling at each other, and Grandfather tried to smooth everything over. Then, knowing that my mother was unsettled over the argument, I said I wanted to sit out the performance. Mother took my place on the wire only because she thought I might be sick. Paul, the accident wasn't your fault!"
"But that's ridiculous!" Michael interrupted. "It was because the shoulder brace I wore slipped, and Aunt Elisabeth had to struggle to keep her balance! That's why the accident happened."
Everyone started to talk at once. Stephen attempted to calm them, but Albert said hotly, "I wasn't aware of any of those things! What I remember is that Tony and I defied Grandfather's orders by sneaking down to Bourbon Street where we drank two beers apiece. That was the reason—"
"Will all of you be quiet!" Eva screamed, clearly beside herself. "We fell because I was thinking about Clark Fedderman and his birthday party, and I couldn't be there because of the trip to New Orleans, and Aunt Elisabeth slipped and I didn't react in time; there wasn't anything I could do, not a thing, and, oh, I'm so sorry!" Eva burst into tears, and Julie, shocked by what had been revealed here, clasped Eva in her arms as tears streamed down her own face.
Touch the Stars Page 15
