The Fortune Teller's Fate

by Audrey Berger Welz

  Ann Marie, Kyle, and Scarlett were in one car, Vladimir and Bella in another. Kyle Jr. had begged his parents to let him travel with his new best friend, whose mother joined the equestrians after I left. Ann Marie would tell me later how excited the children were at the idea of seeing a waterfall, whose drop was five stories tall.

  After I spoke with Lucky, she put Ann Marie on the telephone, and as difficult as it was for her, she explained in detail what had occurred that fateful day.

  “We were driving the winding roads on our way to Davis. Well, you know what they’re like. You’ve seen them from the train windows. They’re treacherous and dangerous at best, let alone driving with packed carts and trucks. Everyone was being extremely cautious.

  “We climbed and climbed until we reached the top of a large hill that looks down at the river. Kyle Jr. was waving to us the entire way up.” Ann Marie broke down in tears. “There’s a small bridge that crosses the river gorge. The view is spectacular; still I hold my breath every time we have to go over it.”

  “Beauty can be deceiving,” I chimed in.

  “There’s only one lane, and the bridge doesn’t hold much weight. Being cautious, we crossed one car or truck at a time. The children were both excited and frightened as they waited for their turn. The rest of us just wanted this part of the journey to be over.

  “Two-thirds of the circus had made it to the other side, and Kyle Jr. was the next in line.” Ann Marie’s voice started to break with emotion. She could barely get out her words.

  “Okay,” I told her. “We can talk about this later. You don’t have to tell me now.”

  “No, but I do,” she replied. “I just need to stop for a second.” I could hear her breathing and imagined she was nervously playing with the cloth of her dress. Then she took a deep breath. “All right, I can go on.

  “Papa and the construction boys were helping each vehicle prepare for their turn. It could get pretty windy, Papa said, and he wanted to be certain anything loose had been tied down.

  “The bridge was louder and creakier, older, and narrower than I remembered it being. Kyle Jr. waved, and then he blew me a kiss as their vehicle rolled onto the bridge. They were about midway across when the wind began to wail, and the bridge began to sway. The driver stopped and waited for the gust to pass. Though I was a bundle of nerves, Kyle didn’t want our son to see that we were afraid.

  “When nature settled down, the driver inched forward. And just as he made his move, a giant gust of wind shook the bridge like an angry mother grabbing her child by the collar. Then the bridge began to crackle. Fearful, the driver pressed on the gas and drove as quick as he could. It was a race between safety and death, and I didn’t know which would win.

  “They almost made it to safety. I thought that they had. But then I saw that two-thirds of the car was on land while the other third was hanging off the cliff and the partially collapsed bridge. I thought I would die as I watched the car swing back and forth until finally both the bridge and the car steadied themselves. Kyle Jr. was too scared to scream. I handed Scarlett over to one of the trapeze artists, who was standing next to us—I felt so weak with fear, I was afraid I might drop her.

  “Kyle shouted to our son, ‘Shut your eyes and promise me you won’t move. If you do what I say, we’ll let you stay up extra late, and we’ll have a sleepover tonight.’

  “‘I promise, Daddy,’ Kyle Jr. said, and he didn’t move one hair.

  “I was beside myself. Boris was on the other side of the bridge and was able to get everyone out of the car but Kyle Jr. If they grabbed him, the car would surely fall, he said. It was going to take a miracle to save our Kyle. I wanted to break down and sob, but I had to be strong for my son.

  “Kyle Sr., a few of the men, and Papa were all trying to hatch a plan. From their sudden silence, it seemed they had something in mind. I didn’t ask. I just let them get to work.

  “Did you know, Aunt Donatella, that Jimmy, the tall man, used to be a javelin thrower? Suddenly I saw Jimmy, with the help of Kyle, pounding a spear he got out of his truck into the ground. The men tested it three times before he threw a second spear across the bridge, with a cable attached to it. Boris took it upon himself to hammer the spear into the hills and rock. That’s when I realized the cable would become a makeshift high wire.

  “It would be a delicate maneuver. The wire had to be positioned exactly right, within arm’s reach of the swaying vehicle. The men on the ground moved fast. Time was running out, and they knew we had only one chance, if that. I prayed to any god who would listen.

  “Kyle was determined to be the one to save his son. And you know what he’s like when he gets stubborn. He was not going to let his son die, and definitely not in front of me. Did you know that he learned to walk the rope after we met? Still, this was going to take much more skill than my Kyle possessed.

  “Then suddenly I saw Papa take Kyle to the side. Later that night, Kyle told me what Papa said, and he reminded me there wasn’t time to argue. Papa ordered Kyle to step aside.

  “He said that there was only one person good enough to save Kyle Jr. He hadn’t performed on the rope since the night Spade died, but he admitted that he’d been practicing, as a way to clear his head. More importantly, he was the only man who stood a chance of saving our son. Kyle knew that Papa was right, and there was no time to let his ego get in the way. Papa had been waiting to do something extraordinary all his life, he told Kyle, something bigger than the circus—he just didn’t know it until that moment. His last words to Kyle were, ‘If I can save my grandson and spare my daughter any more grief, I will consider my life complete.’”

  Ann Marie started sobbing uncontrollably. “Papa didn’t even stop to kiss Mama. He just shook Kyle’s hand, gave him a hug, and headed straight to the cable.

  “His first step was a little wobbly, and he almost slipped. But he soon proved to be the master he had always been. I believe it was his proudest moment. Excuse me…” Ann Marie paused to find the words.

  “My Kyle yelled to Kyle Jr., ‘Keep your eyes closed and don’t move. Grandpa’s coming. Everything is going to be okay. Listen to every word your grandpa says. Stay calm, boy, and we’ll be laughing about this at supper.’

  “On his fifth step, Papa started singing Spade’s song. Everyone began to nervously sing along, and the camaraderie helped us stay calm and focus.

  “Papa was almost at the finish line. Kyle Jr. was just a few feet away from safety when I heard the bridge make a noise like firecrackers. It was too old and tired to take the stress any longer—everyone gasped, then put their hands to their mouths, muttering ‘No!’ It must have been just like that, when Spade fell, I thought.

  “Kyle Jr. started to yell, ‘Mama! Mama!’ Papa was amazing. He stayed focused.

  “Kyle Sr. yelled out to our son, ‘Your grandpa’s almost there. You’re going to be okay.’

  “Clearly, things were not fine. This is the moment when what happened becomes a blur. Everything occurred so fast.

  “Papa took two big steps, scooped Kyle Jr., and quickly passed him to Boris. But just as he released Kyle Jr. into Boris’s big hands, the bridge collapsed, taking Papa and the rope with it. There was nothing anyone could do.

  “For a second I thought he might survive. He’s always been my hero, and I thought he was invincible. He held on to the end of the cable, but then a dark cloud that had been building finally burst, and rain came pouring down. His wet hands slipped on the cable, and he fell to his death.

  “In my heart, I have only one consolation. I believe Spade came and took Papa’s hand and let him know he was about to enter God’s heaven, where a special seat of honor would be waiting for him, and that night he would rest with the angels.

  “Donatella, I pinched myself. My son was safe, and on the other side was big ole Boris cradling Kyle Jr. like a baby, but my father had disappeared. Mama, next to me, wa
s frozen in disbelief. Kyle Sr. squeezed my hand.”

  “Three words,” I said. “Three words, and our world will never be the same.”

  Vladimir is dead.

  Chapter 49

  All that was left of my Russia was buried in the valley and river on the day Vladimir fell to his death. Without him, I was cut in half. He was the only one who shared my past. Bella and Marvin tried to understand the life we’d lived, but it was impossible to explain. How could they comprehend the romance of that royal Russia from the eyes of a young person growing up in the midst of it? As a boy, Vladimir had been treated like a prince. In Russia, being invited to the Vronskys’ for dinner was like being invited to high court. Oh, I was going to miss Vladimir.

  I knew that my self-pity wasn’t attractive. I needed to be strong for Vladimir’s family, but I was tired.

  Bella had been pacing like a ghost, Ann Marie told me, day and night since Vladimir slipped away. Lucky had spoken to Thomas, and he was waiting to hear from her about Vladimir’s memorial. He wanted to support her any way he could, even from a distance. Lucky had spent most of her life envying her sisters. Now, in the blink of an eye, she’d grown into her name, the luckiest of them all.

  “I called Diamond,” Lucky told me. “It was the hardest call I hope I ever have to make.”

  Bella was in no condition to talk to anyone, even her daughter, and Ann Marie just couldn’t do it. So, as she had at Spade’s death, Lucky had to be the strong one.

  When I next spoke to Ann Marie, I could see that she was carrying guilt for what had been beyond her control. I tried to comfort her with what I believed to be true: “I knew your father very well,” I told her. “And given a choice as to who would die, hands down he would have chosen himself. Know that and remember it. My heart is with you.”

  I spoke to Lucky next; she needed to talk about her phone call to Diamond. “I picked up the receiver,” she said, “and my heart started pounding and my hands began to shake. I could barely keep them steady enough to dial her number. Then, when I got her on the phone, I didn’t know what to say. We’d just had this fabulous visit—she was probably still thinking of Roman—and I had to tell her that our father had fallen to his death, saving Kyle Jr.”

  “Lucky,” I reminded her, “it wouldn’t matter who it was—your father would have done the same. He could never have stood on the sidelines if he knew he could help.”

  ¯¯¯

  The story of Vladimir’s death traveled from one mountaintop to another. First it made the news in West Virginia, especially in the towns surrounding Blackwater Falls and Davis. It broke the townsfolks’ hearts. Everyone wanted to help. All the able-bodied men who lived nearby, organized by the sheriff, formed a search party to find Vladimir’s body. They were determined to return this hero to his family. “We know the river, woods, and mountains well,” they told us. “You’ve suffered enough. We’ll find him.”

  While the townsmen looked for Vladimir, the queens and Bella were left to deal with their grief and other circus affairs. The women in Davis and the surrounding area welcomed Bella and her family into their homes and insisted on cooking and doing their laundry. But poor Ann Marie could not leave the house with Kyle Jr. to take advantage of their generosity. Though kind and helpful, everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the little boy who was rescued and see the queen who was his mother.

  On the fourth day of searching, the men found Vladimir’s body washed ashore five miles from the bridge where he’d fallen. I was happy Kyle Sr. was there to identify Vladimir and arrange for him to be transported to a mortuary.

  Vladimir would be buried next to Spade, we decided. The service would be for immediate family, myself, Marvin, Harsita, and Roman, with a memorial celebration later the same day for anyone who wanted to come and pay their respects.

  Kyle and Marvin paid the circus workers two months’ wages, though not before asking if they would help move what was left of the circus to Savannah. For the first time in generations, there would be no Vronsky circus. We were temporarily closed.

  Marvin cleared out a barn and had the men put up some extra fencing. The Circus of the Queens—including Ali Baba, who was getting quite old—would live in my back pasture.

  Bella, Ann Marie, and her family, along with Lucky, arrived in Savannah before Diamond. The circus folks, according to Marvin, would make their entrance at around three o’clock the afternoon of the funeral. We would bury Vladimir at eleven o’clock that same morning.

  Marvin stepped in as the ringmaster, arranging both the memorial and the funeral. Polly took command in the kitchen. Kyle lent his support by getting the family to the farm. Diamond took the train from New York; she would only be able to stay five days, though, before she had to return to the theater.

  Polly and I searched all our gardens and cut only the most beautiful flowers. “If it isn’t perfect,” I said, “leave it.” Ben, whom I usually would have called on for a task such as this, was helping Marvin. So Polly and I, armed with our sharpest pruning shears, cut roses, lilies, iris, and dahlias and put them in vases, filling them out with baby’s breath and greenery. When we were through, we planted them around the gravesite where Vladimir would be laid to rest.

  The service was simple, personal, and heartfelt. Marvin spoke of his friendship with Vladimir. Lucky read a poem that she had found in a magazine and clipped out, Mary Elizabeth Frye’s “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep”:

  Do not stand at my grave and weep,

  I am not there, I do not sleep.

  I am a thousand winds that blow.

  I am the diamond glint on snow.

  I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

  I am the gentle autumn rain.

  When you wake in the morning hush,

  I am the swift, uplifting rush

  Of quiet birds in circling flight.

  I am the soft starlight at night.

  Do not stand at my grave and weep.

  I am not there, I do not sleep.

  Do not stand at my grave and cry.

  I am not there, I did not die!

  Diamond sang “Amazing Grace,” and I read what I described simply as a song lyric in Russian about two dancers who, thrown together by circumstance, became best friends. Remembering that Vladimir had been brought up in a religious family, I hired a Russian Orthodox priest to say the final blessing in the Trisagion service. The priest asked God to grant our departed “rest in the bosom of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” and then closed with a final exclamation: “Grant eternal rest, O Lord, to the soul of Thy departed servant Vladimir, and make his memory be eternal,” to which we faithfully sang along with the priest, “Memory Eternal.”

  Kyle Jr. had insisted on coming to the end of the service so he could say goodbye to his grandpapa. He blew Vladimir a kiss, laid a flower on his casket, and, following his mother’s instructions, picked up a handful of dirt and threw it on his grandpapa’s grave. Bella stood to the side, weeping, as everyone else followed Kyle Jr.’s lead, saying their goodbyes with handfuls of dirt.

  When the ceremony was over, Diamond and Roman laid yellow roses on Spade’s headstone. Afterward, we all went inside for the lunch Polly had fixed for us and waited for the circus to arrive. Thomas, who was unable to attend, called and expressed his condolences.

  At three o’clock, we heard bagpipers playing “Danny Boy,” and then the windjammer band marched up to the farm playing “Auld Lang Syne” to remind us of the friendships we had formed throughout the years. All of Savannah by now knew that the Circus of the Queens was moving onto old Colonel Butler’s pastures. The boys and girls from the local high school sang along with the band and carried black-and-white flags to show their sympathy.

  The equestrian, whose car Kyle Jr. had been in on the bridge, arrived with Roman’s father Louie, who’d come up from New Orleans, and the fire-eater performed Vladimir’s favorite tric
k—after all his years in the circus, Vladimir had still been in awe of a man who could swallow a flame. The clowns and jugglers wore tuxedos. The beautiful female equestrians who had been with the circus returned dressed in lavish costumes, wearing hats with plumes of every color, black lace veils that covered their faces, and black ribbons attached to their jackets to show that they were in mourning. Riding sidesaddle, they made their way to the farm, each horse lifting its hooves in time with the others. At the end of the line was our sweet Ali Baba, moving as slow as he pleased, confident nothing would start without him.

  I found Marvin scouring the crowd, looking for me. I wasn’t easy to find, as I was wearing black like almost everybody else there. I signaled to him, but he still didn’t see me, tucked between the giant, the man with the longest beard in the world, and Diamond Claire, who was sharing confidences with Ali Baba, the one male to whom she could fully give her heart. Ann Marie was holding onto a letter from her old mentor and friend Samantha Divine that had arrived that day. She didn’t share it with anyone, even me, but put it into a pocket in her dress so Sam could attend the memorial, too.

  It was amazing how festive the pasture looked. I had erected a tent for the occasion, ornate carriages were scattered about, and there were masses of people. A stranger passing by would never have guessed a funeral had just taken place. This was Vladimir’s last party, a celebration of an amazing life. The girls asked Marvin if he would introduce Bella, and then she would say a little something to all of Vladimir’s new and old friends.

  Marvin folded Bella’s small hand into his to calm her and led her to the podium he had erected.