Tekla tugged Walter over to stand beside her. "Walter tell you what happen. He drag you out of cage, not Tony. I told you gorgio not be there when you need him."
"You?" Stefan looked at Walter, incredulous.
Walter nodded.
Stefan stared at Walter, knowing what he'd done was extraordinary. He reflected on Walter's untimely final performance seven years before. Walter was with the circus in New York and Stefan went to watch him perform. That same night, Walter was carried from the arena, frozen in fright, having suffered an acute anxiety reaction that can strike a trainer without warning. After that, Walter was never able to enter the cage again.
"Thank you, my friend, for being there when I needed you," he said. "But where was Tony?"
Walter shrugged. "He'd turned away to get something—I can't remember what he said he was after. Then the rope broke and you fell back and hit your head on a pedestal, so I distracted Rafat by throwing ammonia water through the wire at him. It slowed him down long enough for me to smash the lock on the escape door and drag you from the cage." Walter's brow's drew in a frown. "It's lucky you placed the sledgehammer at the door before you went in, but I wondered why at the time. The cats were harnessed, so you shouldn't have been expecting trouble."
Stefan looked at his grandmother. "Just a hunch."
Walter glanced at Tekla, then continued. "I still haven't figured Rafat out. You had him working well just before the rope broke."
Stefan considered Walter's words. Was it a coincidence that a week after Klaus Haufchild was spotted in Vicksburg, the latch on the cage door jammed, just as it had the night of Haufchild's accident? But Haufchild had been seen in Vicksburg. This was Baton Rouge. Certainly the man wasn't following the show? "That rope had been tested," he said, "and as far as I know, none of the animals had a chance to chew it. Where did it break?"
"Close to the catch," Walter replied. "I saved it to show you. It looks like it just snapped."
Stefan looked at his mother, saw the tension on her face, and decided to drop the subject until he was alone with Walter and Tony. He could only imagine what Joanna must be going through. This was to be the day he would show her how docile his most vicious animal could be when worked properly. But there was an explanation for this accident as well. When he got the details, he'd try to convince Joanna again, to watch him work with his animals. "So, what's been happening while I was... out?" he asked.
Kitta perched on the bed. Light flashed from the silver coins hooked to her earlobes as she reached into a pocket of her skirt. "I got you a present," she said. "It's for your birthday, but I thought I'd give it to you now instead of next month." She handed Stefan a small box.
Stefan eyed his sister, dubiously. "Nothing is going to crawl out, is it?" he asked, lips curved in a teasing smile. The last gift Kitta gave him was a live, gold-collared chameleon in a small filigree cage. Engraved on a plaque above the cage door was the name, Khamaileon, Greek for ground lion—Kitta's clever gift symbolic of the gypsy, one who adapts to his surroundings and blends with the local people, taking on their religion, clothes, food and even their names.
Kitta shook her head. "Go on," she urged, dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Look inside. It's supposed to ward off the evil eye."
Stefan raised the lid and stared at a large black claw, its blunt end capped in gold, with a loop attached for hanging from a chain. "Where in the world did you find this?" he asked, a smile playing about his lips.
"I got it from an old Chinaman when we were Vicksburg."
Tekla threw up her hands in dismay. "Aye...yi...yi. Now you do bargain with Chinese gorgio. Charm probably cursed."
Kitta rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "It's just a bear claw, Mamio. I tried to find a lion's claw but this was the best I could do."
Stefan squeezed Kitta's arm. "Cursed or not, I'll keep it. It might come in handy some day,"
Laszlo winked at Stefan. "Maybe Kitta should wear it when she juggles, to ward off the evil eyes."
Kitta folded her arms across her ample breasts. "Very funny, Laszlo," she said. Her eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on the yellow rose. "I suppose your wife gave you the flower," she said in a derogatory tone.
Stefan replaced the lid on the box, covering the bear claw. "All right, Kitta, and the rest of you. Let's get it out in the open."
Kitta raised her chin. "I don't like her."
"Why? Because she's not Rom? Let me remind you that you're only half Rom, though you seem to conveniently forget it." He looked at his sister and saw the restless, unstable something that is said to be in the eye of the gypsy, a mask to hide awareness. Kitta prided herself on being gypsy. She and Laszlo had always been the aggressive, clever, outgoing ones in the family—virtues desired and encouraged by their grandmother. Ivan and Josef assumed the more reserved attitude of their mother. Stefan felt he was a mixture of both. He gazed at the rose and became thoughtful...
Tekla pointed a stiff finger at Stefan. "Why you marry gorgio woman?" she said, her finger slicing the air in vexation. "She be like that Claudia you marry. No tie between families, so she leave you too."
Stefan knew his grandmother blamed Claudia for the failure of his marriage. According to Mamio, marriage was to bind families, and a union between Rom and gorgio created no family ties. It was true. His mother severed ties with her family when she defied them to marry his father. Stefan stared at his grandmother. "I'm sorry Joanna does not meet with your approval but she's the only woman I want."
Tekla's eyes bore into him. "You make big mistake. I tell you more bad will come. You see. Is so."
Stefan looked up at the faces, and asked, "Is she here?"
"She's at a diner down the street," his mother replied. "She said she'd be in after we finished our visit."
Ivan slipped a gold watch from his pocket and glanced at the time. "We have to get back to the lot," he said, "but we'll stop by tomorrow."
After making their farewells, the family filed into the hall, Tekla leading the procession. Feeling drowsy, Stefan rested his head against the pillow and closed his eyes...
When he awoke much later, Joanna stood gazing out the window. Her presence was like a bright ray of sunshine coming into a very bleak world. But when she turned and walked toward him, he saw a greatly troubled face. He extended his hand. "I'm glad you're here," he said, then curled his fingers around hers as she placed her hand against his palm.
Her eyes filled with tears as she leaned toward him and said, "I'm sorry I told the nurse I was your wife, but it was the only way I could get in to see you."
Stefan took her hand in his. "You are my wife," he said. "And now my family knows."
"But it's not a real marriage. We both know that."
Stefan pulled her towards him. "It is to me."
Joanna sat on the edge of the bed. She tried to drag her attention from the oppressive bandage, but couldn't. "How do you feel?" she asked, inspecting him carefully, wanting to memorize each feature.
Stefan's thumb stroked the back of her hand. "Better, now that you're here. And thanks to Walter, I'm here too."
"Walter?"
"He's the one who went into the cage and dragged me out." Stefan's fingers paused on Joanna's hand, and his face became thoughtful. "It was an amazing thing for him to do."
"I thought he was once a trainer," Joanna said.
"He was, but several years ago he suffered a complete mental breakdown during a performance, and since then, he has never been able to go into the big cage and face the cats. It's something that happens to trainers—" he stopped short, looked into worried eyes, and realizing his blunder, said, "It happens on occasion."
"You never mentioned such a thing could happen," Joanna said in a tight voice.
"I didn't see a need." He gave her a nervous smile. "It doesn't happen very often."
Joanna quietly fumed as Stefan's many excuses replayed in her head...
...it doesn't happen very often... that rarely happens... it wo
n't happen again...
Stefan reached out and touched her face. "I'm glad you're here, sweetheart. If you kiss me I won't break." He curved his hand behind her neck and drew her to him.
Joanna pressed her lips to his. The aroma of ether and antiseptic and fresh bandages filled her nostrils, and with it, a sense of impending loneliness and deep despair pervaded her. She broke the kiss and looked at him. "Do you have any idea what I've gone through these past few hours?" she said, a blend of anger and fatigue making her voice waver. "The sight of you lying motionless on the stretcher, blood running down your face..." her eyes filled with tears and she swiped them away.
Stefan closed his hand around her forearm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I guess it wouldn't do any good to tell you it won't happen again."
Joanna pursed her lips. "No." She stared at the bandages, so white against Stefan's bronze skin, then raised her hand to shove a thatch of dark hair from his forehead, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the gauze dressing. "At least you're out of the cage for a while," she said. "I feel like I die a little every time you step inside with the cats." Moisture dampened her eyes, and the warmth of Stefan's hand caressing hers did nothing to quell the turmoil inside.
Stefan drew in a long sigh, and as he let it out, his eyes drifted shut. He started to say something, but his voice was thin. Then he reached for her hand, as if trying to tighten his fingers around it, but instead, his hand fell limp over hers... And she knew he was once again sleeping. She bent over him and kissed him on the lips...
"Joanna?"
She glanced up with a start to find Helen Janacek standing in the doorway, then she looked back at Stefan, worried. "He was trying to tell me something," she said, continuing to hold his hand, "but he seems to have fallen asleep."
Helen walked toward the bed. "I just talked to the doctor and he told me that was to be expected, along with some possible loss of memory, dizziness and headaches for a week or two. Stefan had quite a blow. It took twelve stitches."
Joanna's thumb, which had been idly stroking Stefan's immobile hand, paused. "That many?" she said, then realized, as she visualized the scene of Stefan lying on the stretcher, blood trickling down his neck and pooling around his head, that of course it would take that many.
Helen's eyes shifted from Stefan's quiet face to the gauze wrapping. "I suppose it could have been worse," she said. "At least we were near the hospital where help could come fast. Sometimes the show sets up a ways from town and it's hard to get word out that help is needed."
Joanna tried to feel thankful, but couldn't. All she felt was the temporary sense of relief that Stefan would be out of the big cage for a while. "How long do they expect to keep him here?" she asked, hoping it would be for the remainder of their stay in Baton Rouge.
"Until he's wide awake and eating," Helen replied. "Probably through tomorrow." She looked down at Stefan's quiet face and relaxed features. "I relive that terrible day when Alonzo was—" she swallowed "—when I lost Alonzo, every time Stefan gets hurt."
Joanna's eyes shifted to Helen. "Every time?" The statement made it sound so inevitable.
Helen looked at her, compassion and understanding in her eyes, as she replied, "This is not an isolated incident, and unfortunately, there will be others."
Joanna toyed with the folds of the flannel blanket covering Stefan, then placed her hand over his heart and looked down at his peaceful face. After a while, she said in a wistful voice, "Why do they do it? Conquer mountains? Fight duels? Challenge rivals? And why do they place such little value on their own lives?" She passed her hand over Stefan's shoulder and down his arm and curved her fingers around his hand.
Helen sat on the bed opposite Joanna. "Don't you think I asked myself those questions a hundred times? But I always came up with the same answer." She shrugged. "I don't know."
As Joanna studied Stefan's quiet features, she wondered why he couldn't just be a husband to her and lead an ordinary life, then realized it was an impossible dream. Stefan was not an ordinary man. Those times when she'd watched him in the arena with his cats, and they were all performing perfectly for him, she'd seen the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes and the look of pure pleasure on his face and knew he could never settle for an ordinary life. It was not in his nature, and she could not expect him to be anything but what he was. A man who had a need to pit himself against wild animals... against the odds.
She ran her hand down the side of his face and over the stubble of his day-old beard. "How, exactly, did it happen?" she asked, eyeing the stalk white dressing.
Helen dabbled with the covers, and replied, "The tether holding Rafat broke, but Rafat never got to Stefan. Stefan fell back and hit his head on a pedestal. If it hadn't been for Walter—" she paused, a frown knitting her brow. "It's uncanny how Stefan's grandmother senses these things. It rarely fails."
"What do you mean?" Joanna asked.
"She warned Stefan before he left to work with Rafat today, not go into the big cage. He must have taken it to heart because Walter said that for no apparent reason, Stefan placed a sledgehammer outside the cage door. Trainers use sledgehammers in emergencies to break up fights... to stun the cats. But Stefan never resorts to that because it can injure the animals. But the sledgehammer is what saved his life."
"I don't understand."
"The latch to the cage door was jammed. It's only because Walter was able to smash it with the sledgehammer that he got to Stefan before Rafat could."
Joanna looked at Helen in surprise. "What made the latch jam?"
"No one knows," Helen said. "But it was almost a repeat of what happened to Klaus Haufchild when Stefan was his assistant trainer."
Joanna's heart quickened. "Klaus Haufchild. The one-armed man. I saw him in the menagerie tent shortly before the accident."
"You did?" Helen's eyes sharpened with alarm.
Joanna looked directly at her. "What is going on? Whenever the man's name is mentioned, everyone reacts like something terrible is about to take place."
Helen sighed. "Stefan apparently didn't tell you everything about Klaus."
Joanna looked at Helen's hands, fingers laced, thumbs twisting with worry, and said in an anxious voice, "Stefan told me that Klaus Haufchild had been attacked by his cats, and also about the extent of the man's injuries, but that's all. He didn't give me any details."
"Obviously he doesn't want to worry you," Helen said.
"Will you tell me what happened?" Joanna's voice quavered in anticipation of what she was about to learn.
Helen shifted on the bed, her finger tracing a crease in the blanket. She gave a weary sigh. "Klaus Haufchild blamed Stefan for the accident that cost him his arm and his career. I am very uncomfortable that the man has been spotted on the show grounds before, much less here in Baton Rouge today."
"But... why would he blame Stefan?" Joanna asked, puzzled.
Helen shrugged. "Stefan didn't get to him in time. When Stefan tried to get into the cage the latch jammed, and the sledgehammer Stefan had placed there for an emergency was gone. Later, Stefan learned that a child had taken it, but Klaus didn't care about that. All he knew was his career was over, he'd lost an arm and he was... less of a man."
Joanna's eyes focused on that area of Stefan where the scar ran. "Stefan told me about that. And I know about Rafat attacking Stefan there, as well."
Helen also focused on that area of Stefan. "It was the same for Alonza, but he got lucky, like Stefan did. Male lions go after other male lions that way, to insure that only their seed will be passed on. I guess they view their trainers the same way. I suppose Stefan told you how he protects himself?'
Joanna nodded.
Helen chuckled. "It is ludicrous to think that a cod piece could prevent a paw with three-inch claws from dismembering a man. But you have to love Stefan for his attempts at justifying things, absurd as they are. Sometimes I have to laugh to keep from crying."
Joanna raised Stefan's hand and pressed it to her ch
est, holding it against her heart with both hands, and said in a wavering voice, "I wish he would never enter that cage again. I wish he would get rid of the cats! I wish he cared enough about me to give it all up!" Tears blurred Helen's face as Joanna turned to her.
Helen looked at her soberly. "And now you and Stefan are married."
Joanna shook her head. "Not really. Stefan came to my stateroom one night and... well, afterwards, he told me about the gypsy tradition when couples elope, that if they are together like man and wife, they're considered married." She looked at Helen, contrite. "I won't deny what happened that night. Now I feel as married to Stefan as if we were legally wed, and he feels the same. But after this accident... I don't know..."
Helen looked at her with understanding. "His wife could not live with the worry either, and she finally left him." Her lips tightened momentarily. "The family blamed Claudia for the breakup of the marriage because she was gorgio. I was the only one who understood. Claudia gave Stefan an ultimatum. Her... or his cats."
"And he obviously chose the cats."
Helen nodded. "It wouldn't have worked if he'd given them up. I did it with Alonzo. One day I just packed up the children and said I was leaving. I loved Alonzo desperately and knew he loved me too, but I couldn't live with the anxiety any more."
"But you went back." Joanna's words were more a statement than a question.
"Not for a while," Helen replied. "Alonzo quit the circus and leased his cats to another trainer. We rented a house and settled down. For two years the children lived in a house and went to a regular school. And Alonzo went to work at the paper mill. I had everything I wanted. Alonzo, the children, a home."
Joanna looked at Helen, perplexed. "I don't understand. Why did you rejoin the circus?"
"Staying in one place, Alonzo was like a caged animal. I don't know whether it was because he was gypsy, or because he didn't have his cats, but the house was like a prison to him. He grew more and more restless. At night I could feel him beside me in bed, just laying awake, staring into the darkness. Gypsies truly believe it's bad luck to stop moving. And maybe it's so. I felt like Alonzo was dying, little by little." Helen shrugged. "So one day, I just packed up the children and told Alonzo I missed the circus."
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