Had Salvo thought more about himself and less about the elephants, he might have realized that the Ursari act was in jeopardy. They had been discovered by Cole, championed by Cole, and Salvo had been a good friend to the man. In addition, Anna’s roundabout relation to Norris and spurning of his romantic intentions, only to marry a lowly performer, had left him with little love for her.
Anna had seen this fallout coming and had tried to warn Salvo, but he had not listened. He believed that the act was all that mattered, and he knew people still loved it, so he was disinclined to fully appreciate how precarious their situation was.
Then, just when the indoor dates were beginning to draw crowds again, Norris made a move that surprised everyone and likely made Cole roll over in his grave. With a full month and a half left in the season, Norris ordered the Fisher-Fielding Extravaganza back to winter quarters in Florida. They were done for the year. This was in reaction to a recent court decision ordering the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company to pay restitution to the victims of the fire, a sum totalling nearly five million dollars. Norris argued that it would bankrupt the circus, a claim no one believed. In an effort to back up his claim, Norris ordered the circus off the road.
Salvo hated Florida. He hated the heat, hated sitting around for weeks at a time without performing. The others looked forward to the break, but for Salvo it was like going to jail.
In an effort to talk Norris out of an early hiatus, he went to see him in his private railcar. Norris beckoned him in, his face cold. “I’m afraid I have no choice,” he said after hearing Salvo’s request. “But I’m glad you came. I was going to send for you anyway.”
“Why?” Salvo asked, not liking the tone in Norris’s voice or the slow sneer that had crept across his face.
“Mr. Ursari, it is my unfortunate task to inform you that the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company is releasing you from your contract at this time.”
Salvo was stunned. “We’re fired?”
“If you want to put it that way, then yes, you’re fired.”
“What for?”
“You act is not what it once was. It has become stale.”
“That is a lie.”
“I assure you, Mr. Ursari, it is not. But, further to that, there has been some suspicion among my police staff regarding your sister’s involvement in the fire, and—”
“What?” Salvo staggered back, unable to believe what he had heard.
“We have reason to believe that she may have been the one who started the fire.”
“That is a lie.”
“Is it? She was seen in the area where the fire started only moments earlier, is known to be a smoker and has been described by others as somewhat suspicious.”
“None of this proves anything.”
“No, it doesn’t. That is why I have not passed this information on to the federal investigators, and why I do not intend to unless you provide me with no alternative. I would hate to think what an accusation of this kind would do to your family, be it substantiated or otherwise.” Norris opened a lacquered wooden box that sat on the table beside him and removed a cigar. He clipped the tip and lit it, taking a tentative puff.
“This is not right,” Salvo said, his mouth dry.
“I am afraid I have no other choice. Let me say, for the record, that your contract is not being renewed because of the poor quality of your act. The fire has had no bearing on this decision. That is for the record. Off the record, let me tell you the following: As long as I am head of the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company, no Ursari will set foot under a roof my show is in, let alone perform in one. My cousin was a fool to get involved with your kind, and I will see no more harm come to my interests as a result of you.”
Salvo was speechless. He stood there, unable to move, unable to speak.
“Our business here is completed. Please be off the lot in a maximum of twenty-four hours. Keep in mind that you are being watched closely. Good day.” Norris rose from his chair, motioning towards the door.
As Salvo walked back to his railcar, he tried to understand what had just happened. He knew that Anna had been right, that Norris was out to ruin them. But he didn’t know what to make of Norris’s accusation that Etel had started the fire.
What he remembered frightened him. Etel had been late for that performance. And she had been at the women’s outhouse, where the fire had apparently started. And how many times had he seen Etel throw a cigarette onto the ground? A sickening feeling turned in his stomach. He knew that if Etel had started the fire, it would have been on purpose. He knew that with the rapt attention she always paid to fire there was no room for accident.
Still, he did not believe she would be capable of arson. She would not have done such a despicable thing, he told himself. She had no reason to. But a tiny part of him was not sure. A fragment admitted that it was possible that his own sister had burned the Fisher-Fielding big top to the ground.
He needed to talk to Anna. She would know what to do. He quickened his pace and leapt up the three steps into their railcar. Inside, Etel and András sat huddled around Anna. Anna was clutching a piece of paper, and her eyes were wet and red.
“What is wrong?” he asked, wondering if they knew his news already.
Anna rushed to him, tears flowing freely.
“Her father is dead,” András said softly.
Salvo comforted her as best he could, but he had a hard time remaining focused on his task. Eventually, he released her and took András by the arm, ushering him outside. “I will be only a moment,” he said. Anna nodded.
“She seems very upset over a man who disowned her,” András said when they were outside.
“She loved him,” Salvo answered. He tried to think of a way to tell András what had happened, what had been said. He could think of no way to soften the blow. “We have been fired.” The words seemed alien and incomprehensible.
András said nothing. The sentence simply did not register.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes. We are fired.” András kicked lightly at the ground.
“They say the act is no good.”
András shook his head. “How can they say that?”
“There is more,” Salvo said.
“The act is good, no matter what Norris Fisher-Fielding says.” András remembered the crowds, how they had cheered for them. He knew there was nothing wrong with the act. They would find work elsewhere.
Salvo exhaled sharply. “They say Etel may have started the fire.”
András’s jaw clenched, his face hardening. “Who says that?”
“Norris Fisher-Fielding, for one. Is it true?” Salvo’s voice was tentative. He did not know if he could bear the question’s answer.
András grabbed Salvo by his shirt. His face was inches from Salvo’s. “Do not ask me that. She is our sister. She would do no kind of thing. How do you even think to ask if she would?” He could feel the blood pounding in his temples.
“I’m sorry.” And he was. But he had to ask. There had been no choice.
“You should not even think such things. She is our sister.” András released Salvo and backed away. It was all he could do to contain his rage.
“Norris says he will not tell the police what he thinks. He is a powerful man, and if he said that Etel started the fire, it would not matter if she did or not.”
“There is no if. She did not.” Like the snapping of a twig, András’s anger gave way to a sob.
Salvo knew he must be strong, or else they would both be in tears. Others were depending on them to keep things together. “Yes. But we must leave the Fisher-Fielding.”
“Where will we go?”
Salvo shrugged. “I don’t know.”
AFTER MUCH DISCUSSION IT WAS DECIDED that they would go to New York. András and Etel would go first, and Salvo and Anna would join them after attending Arthur Simpson’s funeral in Ottawa. Many people who Salvo had thought did not like them came to wish them well, many saying that they though
t it was a travesty that they were being let go. No one spoke of the suspicions surrounding Etel, if they even knew of them. Etel knew nothing of the allegations; András had made Salvo promise not to tell her. He said nothing to Anna, either. She was under enough stress as it was.
Arthur Simpson’s funeral was an elaborate affair. Anna refused to sit at the front of the church with her brothers. Instead, she sat at the back by herself.
“Please, come in with me,” she had asked, nearly begged Salvo before entering the church. And though Salvo desperately wanted to help her, to be with her when she needed him, he could not bring himself to cross through the door.
“I cannot,” he said, pulling her close. “God is not welcome in my house, and I am not welcome in His. That is our arrangement.”
“God did not kill your parents,” Anna said. Salvo did not argue with her. Now was not the time. He released her from his embrace and held her hand.
“Once God came to a village. He was very tired, and a Rom and his wife invited Him to stay the night. God slept well and awoke refreshed, grateful to the Rom and his wife for their hospitality. And He said to the wife, ‘You have been kind to let me stay in your house, so when you die you will come and stay in heaven with me.’
“To the Rom, He said He would grant three wishes. The Rom chose his wishes carefully. ‘For my first wish, I want that anyone who sits in my chair has to stay there until I say they can get up. For my second wish, I want that anyone I tell to get into my iron pot must do so. Finally, I want that wherever I lay my coat, no one can make me move from that place.’
“Well, God thought these to be strange wishes, but He had made His promise to the Rom so He granted each in turn. The Rom lived a good long time, but eventually the angel of death came to take him. ‘Please allow me to say goodbye to my wife first,’ the Rom said. ‘You can sit in my chair while I do so.’ The angel of death sat in his chair, and found he could not get up again.
“ ‘Let me live until my wife dies, and I will let you go,’ the Rom said to the angel. The angel agreed, and the man lived another twenty years. Three days after his wife died, the devil came to see him.
“ ‘I have heard you are sly, Rom,’ said the devil. ‘But now you must come with me.’ The Rom smiled. ‘Yes, I will come with you gladly. But first you must get into my iron pot.’ And the devil found himself doing exactly that. When the Rom placed the lid on the pot, the devil became frightened and cried out. ‘Let me out, and I will leave you be forever!’
“The Rom let the devil out, and in another three days the angel of death returned for him. He took the Rom down to hell, but the devil refused to let him in. So the angel of death took him to heaven. But God wouldn’t let him in. ‘Just let me have a quick peek,’ the Rom pleaded. ‘My good wife is in there.’ So God opened the gates of heaven a crack. The Rom threw his coat inside, and because of His promise, God had to admit the Rom, and there he still resides with his wife.”
Anna smiled slightly. “Does this mean you’ll come inside?”
Salvo shook his head. “No. But I will not be far away. I will wait right here.”
He released her hand, and she entered the church. Salvo watched as the doors closed and the funeral began, and he wished he could have gone inside. Anna deserved that much.
ARTHUR SIMPSON HAD BEEN TRUE to his word, and Anna was not mentioned in his will. Her half-brothers, however unable to stand up to their father while he was alive, resolved to defy him in death. They each gave her a portion of their own inheritance; while it was not as large as the share she would have originally received, it was a noble gesture on their part. They presented her with a trust substantial enough to provide her with a modest annual income, as well as forty acres of land in British Columbia’s Fraser Valley that had been purchased during Prohibition for its proximity to the American border. In addition, they left her their one-seventh of one-seventh share in the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company, even though she had no Fisher-Fielding blood in her. Their share was worth little now, the circus all but bankrupt, but it was a symbolic gesture. Unlike their father, they did not look down upon Anna’s husband, or her lifestyle. In a way, they admired her. It was for this reason that Anna accepted their gift. If she had for a second thought it was given out of pity, she would have refused it.
When they arrived in New York, Salvo immediately set about attempting to find work with another circus. He found none; the Fisher-Fielding had been the biggest and best circus around, and the industry was hurting, not only as a result of the fire. Since the end of the war no one had been going to the circus, and it appeared as though the days of the big top were numbered. Where ten years ago there would have been work, now there was none.
Salvo despaired. He hated New York, hated the bustle, everyone in a hurry, everyone looking miserable. When Anna suggested that they go and live on their land in Canada, though, he initially refused.
“I am a Rom,” he said. “We are not farmers.”
“You are many things. And you don’t have to farm if you don’t want to.”
“András and Etel will not come.”
“Then they can stay here.”
Salvo was quiet. Anna took his hand. “This city is no place to raise children. We’ve always done what you wanted. But the circus is over. I want us to do this. We need a new start.”
Salvo could not refuse her. He didn’t want to go, but he would. He owed Anna that much. When he told András and Etel, they didn’t understand, and he couldn’t explain it to them. János cried as they left, and Salvo’s brother and sister waved goodbye stonily. He did not think they would see each other again soon.
After they boarded the train, Salvo began to feel a little better. He let Daniel sit on his lap and look out the window. The further west they went, the flatter things got, until they began to climb into mountains. He remembered his journey from Transylvania to Budapest twenty-six years earlier. These mountains were much higher.
They arrived at night. It was cold, and they were tired and hungry. It was all Salvo could do to get a fire started in the wood stove that would heat their small farmhouse. Daniel cried all night, and Salvo and Anna took turns forsaking the warmth of their bed to comfort him. Near dawn, on his way back to sleep, Salvo looked out the window and saw their land for the first time. It stretched around the house, a large barn on one side, the rest open field. The hayfields reminded him of the fields of his boyhood, and although he would later be unable to recapture whatever it had been that made the two places seem similar, he would always recall thinking it was very possible that he was finally home.
SIX
Anna frowned, seeing that she had left their oatmeal unattended for too long. Now there would be a blackened crust on the bottom of the pan, and it would be no small job getting it off. Elsabeth and Daniel rumbled down the stairs, still in their nightclothes, and pulled their chairs up to the table. Daniel rubbed his face, bleary-eyed. Anna wondered if he’d slept enough the night before, knowing that he shared Salvo’s insomnia.
After the fire, Salvo again lost the ability to sleep. Anna had no trouble sleeping herself, but with both a husband and a son who did not sleep, she felt that there should be something she could do to help them. But she was powerless against their insomnia, and nothing irritated her more than a lack of control.
“Where’s Mika?” she asked the children, only to have her question answered by Mika’s appearance at the table, fully dressed and ready for school. “You’re eager to get to school today.”
Mika nodded. “Field trip.”
Anna had forgotten that the girls’ teacher was taking them into the city for the day, to see Stanley Park. None of the children had been to Stanley Park before, and Mika had been looking forward to it for weeks. Typical of the other two, Elsabeth didn’t want to go—something about squirrels—and Daniel was jealous because his class wasn’t going. Anna sometimes wished that the excesses of each child could be pooled to make up for the deficiencies of another; Mika’s enthusias
m and Daniel’s pride and Elsabeth’s reserve mixed into three perfect children. Presto.
“Oatmeal?” Daniel said, peering at the stove.
Anna took three bowls from the cupboard and began spooning the mush of oats into them. Overcooked, she thought. “It will make you strong, like your father.” She knew that Daniel didn’t like oatmeal, but he would do anything to be like Salvo, who was still asleep upstairs and would be for several more hours.
“I already am strong,” he said with confidence, as Anna placed their bowls on the table.
“Can we have sugar?” Mika asked hopefully. They usually weren’t allowed, except for special occasions.
Anna took a canister of brown sugar off the shelf and placed it on the table. “One spoonful each, no more.” She watched as each child took their sugar. Mika’s spoon was first in, taking a heaping load and dumping it into her bowl, stirring the golden lump through the grey mush. Daniel took a slightly smaller spoonful, choosing to sprinkle his across the surface of the oatmeal. Elsabeth paused, considering how much she wanted, then extracted a perfectly level spoonful and placed it at the side of the bowl, portioning a little sugar with each spoonful lifted to her mouth. Anna saw how if she had been asked ahead of time to guess how each child would react she would have said exactly what they had just done. They were perfectly, utterly, wonderfully predictable. She loved them for it.
“Hurry up,” she said. “You don’t want to miss the bus.”
For the first five years the Ursari farmhouse had been more a cabin than a house. Built around the turn of the century, it was in its time a respectable dwelling, never comfortable but nothing to be embarrassed about. Were it up to Salvo, the house would have stayed as it was; by his standards, it was more than adequate. Anna had higher standards, however.
The entire building was jacked up, and a proper foundation was built underneath it. A septic field and indoor plumbing were added. The woodstove was replaced by an oil-burning furnace, and finally, in 1950, a second storey was added on to the building, making it a fine dwelling by anyone’s estimation, and a palace by Salvo’s.
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