A heaviness settled in her chest. Their lives may be destined to move in opposite directions, but she wasn't ready to accept it yet. Slipping out of her stateroom, she stepped across the passageway and knocked lightly on Stefan's door. When he pulled the door open, his face looked weary and drawn. "I'm glad you came," he said. "We need to talk."
She said nothing, just walked into his arms and kissed him with all the passion that had been coiling inside her. Still, no words were spoken when he stripped her of her nightclothes, and his, and took her to his bed and made love to her in a way so urgent, she felt as if their bodies and souls were bound together for eternity, that there was nothing that could separate them, neither time, nor space, nor whatever distance would hold them apart. Stefan would be a part of her until the day she died. But after the throes of passion had subsided, Joanna looked around his stateroom and noticed the boxes with Stefan's personal belongings.
"You're packing," she said. "Why so soon?"
"I'm letting Laszlo and Cara have my quarters," Stefan said. "I'll be staying on the Glazier when we're travelling and in my wagon during shows so I can be near the cats."
Joanna stared blankly. Already she felt as if they were being tugged apart, their lives taking different courses. "You never said anything about spending the last days of the season away from me," she said. A queasiness settled in her stomach. Perhaps Stefan was making her decision for her. Maybe this was his way of helping her deal with the problem. Remove the cause of her anxiety. Him.
"I wasn't planning to move out," Stefan said, "but Rafat's been acting up, and I've got a sick tiger I need to watch closely."
"When will you be moving out?" Joanna asked, wanting to turn back the time, shut out the world, return to the first night they made love so there would be a string of tomorrows ahead of them. Instead, all there would be for them would be yesterdays.
"I'll be moving out when we stop in Lutcher," he said.
Joanna looked around at the trunks in varying stages of being packed. "I'm not ready for this," she said, knowing it made no sense. But she wanted him in her bed every night they had left, even if it would end in New Orleans. "Everything seems so... final. You moving out. The show season ending. Our time together done." She looked at him, tears misting her eyes, and said, "Will you just hold me now? I really need that."
Stefan wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. Holding her flesh to flesh, he said against the top of her head, "Does this help?" She nodded against his chest. "I'll try to come to your stateroom for a little while each night," he said, "but I won't be able to stay, and when we get to New Orleans, we both know some tough decisions have to be made."
His tone made Joanna uneasy. Maybe he too had felt the distance creeping between them and sensed that their lives were not destined to converge. She looked at him and tried to probe his feelings but found his eyes unreadable. Deciding that the time had come to broach the subject of Matthew's job offer, she said, "I received a letter from my brother. He offered me a position at the gymnastic academy."
For a moment Stefan said nothing, just stared at her. Then a frown gathered on his brow, and he said, "Is that what you want?"
"I'd like the work there. Yes... I guess it's what I want. If I stay with Porter Brothers I'm committed to flying without nets, and life is too precious to end on the hard ground."
Stefan heard nothing after the words, flying without nets. The thought of Joanna flying without them terrified him. "We could move to another show," he volunteered.
Joanna shook her head. "The only shows that can afford you are major ones that expect their performers to play games with death, so I'd be right back where I am now. Performing without nets."
Stefan knew she was right. The cost of maintaining cats priced his act out of range of all but the flashiest, most sensational, most demanding shows. "Would you consider retraining for a new act? Juggling, or maybe bareback riding?" he asked.
"No. You'd still be there with your cats, and you're not even willing to give up Rafat."
Stefan sighed. "I guess it's come back to that again. That's what's really behind it isn't it? I told you I'd sell Rafat if he didn't work out, but I will give him a chance before I sell him. I also asked you to watch me work with him."
"I did, remember? You ended up in the hospital."
"That's because someone cut the line!"
"And you don't intend to do a thing about it!"
"I'm staying near the animals," he said, "but if you want to leave the show, you have to make that decision on your own. I won't be a part of it."
Joanna stiffened. "You won't make any concessions with the cats either, will you?"
"For now, no."
"Then everything seems pretty cut-and-dried," she clipped. "If we stay together, I start juggling and you continue battling Rafat and Shani and the rest of those damn cats!"
"Enough!" Stefan raised a hand. "Let's just stop here. We both need time to think."
Joanna looked at the determined set to his mouth and realized time would change nothing. No matter what concessions she'd make, he'd still be in the cage with his cats. "Well, I'm going to give you all the time you need," she said. Turning, she scooped up her nightgown, tugged it over her head and returned to her quarters, pulling the door behind.
Feeling an almost overwhelming sense of despair, she crawled into bed, thoughts of lying in Stefan's arms every night of her life and being a wife to him, and living her idealistic life while raising his children, shattered.
***
Shortly after their last performance in Lutcher, two days later, Gene slapped the unsigned contract on the table in Joanna's wagon. "Are you just going to throw away our years of training because of five performances without a net?" He stood over her, hands on his hips, steely gaze fixed on her.
Joanna lifted the paper and studied it, queasiness settling in her stomach as she reread the conditions. "We don't have to do this," she said. "There are other shows."
"Sure. Dozens of second-rate mud shows." He paced impatiently. "This is our chance to get back to the top, maybe even be signed on to a show like Ringling."
Joanna looked at Otto, who stood by the door, arms folded. He shrugged. "He's right," Otto said. "You're a good flyer. When the nets are down we'll only do a few simple routines, unless of course, you want to be more daring like Gene and try a two-and-a-half."
Since the terrible performance when she fell to the net, Joanna tried not to dwell on what happened that night, tried not to recognize how vulnerable she was where Stefan was concerned. And how much his presence affected her timing. But she knew that as long as he was a part of her life, she'd continue to face critical moments in time, moments that could one day prove fatal. Her eyes drifted with displeasure around the wagon, and she visualized her quarters on the steamer. Her quarters were the best Porter Brothers had to offer. But... another season living out of trunks?
She longed to soak in a tub filled with warm bubbly water, and sleep in a bed that did not rock, and dress in pretty dresses and nice gowns and be able to stand far enough from a mirror to see what she looked like. She turned to Otto, avoiding Gene's gaze, and said, "The fact is, I'm not sure I want to be with any show." For a moment, no one spoke. She glanced at Gene, saw the anger filtering into his eyes, then shifted her gaze to Otto.
"Because of the nets?" Otto asked.
Joanna gave an indifferent shrug. "Because of a lot of things."
"Janacek!" Gene barked. "I don't know what he has to do with this, but I'd bet my last dollar he's the reason. Before he was in the picture you were with us all the way."
"I never agreed to drop the nets," Joanna said. "Besides, when we started as a team everything seemed glamorous." She looked at the contract pinched in her fingers. "It's not. It's sweating, and being constantly on the move, and undermining people to get to the top." She looked at Gene. "You're not the same person you were six years ago. I don't know you anymore."
"And I told you six years ago we'
d reach the top. That hasn't changed."
"But your methods of getting there have."
Gene's eyes darkened. "That's part of the game. You should know."
Joanna saw the derisive look in his eyes. "What do you mean, I should know?"
Gene's lips twisted in a cynical smile. "Karl Porter. Your hopping into bed with him got us where we are."
The heat of indignation rushed up her face. "I never slept with Karl Porter," she hissed, "in spite of the rumors that I did."
"Janacek," Gene needled. "He's the only one between us and the top now. You can't deny sleeping with him. It's common knowledge around here."
"That's because we're married!" Joanna spat the words before she could stop herself. For some reason, Stefan's family had never mentioned it to anyone, and after her announcement at the hospital, and Stefan's acknowledgement, nothing more had been said.
Gene and Otto stared at her, clearly dumbfounded.
Gene was the first to speak. "I can't believe you'd marry that two-bit gypsy bastard. The next thing you'll be doing is squatting between shows while pumping out the first of a string of snotty-nosed, black-eyed, bedraggled gypsy offspring. That's all the damn people are good for. Breeding and begetting!"
"Enough, Gene!" Otto bellowed, flailing a stiff hand at his brother. "She's right! You're not the person you were six years ago. Your ambitions are destroying you and the act. You'll stop at nothing to reach the top. But if you don't slack off, you'll never get there because you'll be swinging alone. And you can't fly without a catcher."
"So it comes down to that!" Gene glared at Otto. "That's been your problem since we were kids. No ambition. You don't give a damn if we make it or not."
"I care," Otto replied. "But if the people around us get hurt along the way then I want out. You have no right to say the things you've said to Joanna over the past few weeks. And it's her business who she chooses to marry. I may not agree with her choice of husband, but it was her choice." He looked at Joanna. "When did this happen?"
Joanna's eyes moved between the two men. She should set the record straight, but that would be admitting she was sleeping with Stefan without the bond of marriage, and she wasn't ready to admit that, at least not to Gene. Perhaps she'd tell Otto when they were alone. For now, she shrugged, and said, "When we were in Vicksburg." More precisely, when they were on the sternwheeler on the way there. At least that was when they first consummated their love.
Gene glanced at Joanna and said, with a long sigh, "Sorry for what I said. But if we don't jump at this chance, we'll start backsliding, all the way to the bottom."
Otto looked at Joanna. "The contract won't hold you to next season if you want out. It says that the Flying Marquis will be a three-person act, but there's a clause releasing members of the team if they're replaced and the act maintains standards. All you have to do is sign the contract and agree to work the last performance without nets. That assures us a contract for next season. What do you say?"
Joanna looked at the quiet plea on Otto's face and sighed. "All right, I'll do it for you, not for Gene. Right now I don't much give a damn if he falls and breaks his fool neck." She slapped the contract on the table and scrawled a quick signature. "There. Now if you don't mind, I want to start packing. Gene just made my decision for me."
Otto gave Gene a cursory look and turned to Joanna. "He didn't mean what he said. You know Gene and his temper."
Joanna handed Otto the contract. "Yes, I know Gene and his temper. I also know I can't work with him anymore. Six performances in New Orleans and that's it for me." Having said the words, she felt a profound sense of relief. For days she'd deliberated over whether to renew her contract, intending on discussing it with Stefan, weighing the pros and cons of its effect on their relationship. Now, suddenly, she'd made her choice without including Stefan in the decision. But then, their marriage was a sham. Yet, somehow she felt that her life would always include Stefan, even though there was no way it could.
She opened the door, anxious for Otto and Gene to leave. She wanted to pack up her belongings, write to Matthew that she would accept the position at the academy, and plan what to tell Stefan, if he still cared.
Gene stomped through the door and marched off in long strides. Otto hung back. Turning in the doorway, he said, "I'm sorry it came to this, Jo, but for whatever it's worth, our years together have not been wasted. You have to do what's right for you, and I'll respect that. As for Gene, I guess he has to do what's right for him too."
Joanna started to tell him the truth about her and Stefan, then realized it didn't matter. She looked toward the lot where Gene had stopped to talk to Karl Porter. "You're going to lose him. Eventually he'll fall, you know that, don't you?" she said to Otto.
Otto gave a heavy sigh. "Yes, I suppose I do. But Gene will never settle for doing a half-way job, so until his time runs out, I'll be there to catch." Giving Joanna's arm an affectionate squeeze, he said, "I hope you know what you're doing, being married to a gypsy lion tamer, but I wish you would have come to me before you made such a decision. Not because of the act, but because I care about you, and it just seems wrong, your being married to a man like that."
"It will be alright," she said, fighting the tears that clearly told her it would never be alright because her marriage was a sham, and she wanted it to be real. Yet, that was not an option now. "Maybe instead of worrying about me, you should just wish me well."
Otto smiled then, but it was a sad smile. "I do wish you well. But even if you're not with the act, you'll still be with the show so we'll be seeing each other. And I suspect you'll have a little one by then to keep you busy."
"Little one?" Her hands went to her stomach. Could Otto tell? It was very soon, and she hadn't even said anything to Stefan. But a definite queasiness in her stomach every morning could not be dismissed, though it could also be simply nerves and a rocking bed.
"Forget what Gene said," Otto replied, eyes focused on her hands. "Your child will be special, like you."
Joanna smiled at Otto, who kissed her on the forehead, the turned and left.
Directing her thoughts to her new life with Matthew and Libby, she headed for the Aurora, where she intended to start packing her trunks. Their two-day stop in Destrehan would offer little opportunity because they'd be arriving shortly before the night performance and leaving right after the noon performance. She wondered if Stefan would move into her vacated stateroom for the return trip to Memphis. There would be no shows, just a leisurely trip up the river. She had no idea how she'd break the news to him that she was leaving the show for good, or if she'd tell him about her suspicions that she was carrying his child...
...living in house like living in cage. Four walls like prison. Rom need freedom...
In an instant, she had her answer to at least that. He would not know about the child. It was not a burden she wanted to place on him. She'd have Matthew and Libby to help her raise it, and maybe someday she'd find a man who would...
No. That was not an option. No man could ever take Stefan's place in her life.
She was resigned to that.
In her stateroom, she gathered her costumes and set them aside for wardrobe to collect later, since they belonged to Porter Brothers. Turning to her three steamer trunks, she began removing her clothes from the closet and dresser drawers and stacking them on the bed for repacking, intending to make room for the array of personal items that helped make her quarters more like home: the silver frame with the picture of her parents on her vanity, the needlepoint pillow on the chair, the lace doilies on the dresser, the poster of Stefan taped to her closet door. No, that one would stay until she was ready to leave.
Methodically, she folded each garment and replaced it in the trunk, tucking her boudoir bottles and other delicate items between layers, while fighting the urge to go to Stefan. The thought of leaving him for good enveloped her like a shroud.
She'd never learn the little details of his life, like how he looked with lather o
n his face when he shaved, or how he liked his eggs cooked, or even what he liked to do during the off-season, when he had time away from his cats. She had not intended to fall in love with him, but when she let down her guard, it happened. If she'd loved him just a little it wouldn't be so painful. But she didn't love him just a little. She loved him deeply, completely, with all her heart and soul. And every day she was with him she loved him more. More, it seemed, than life itself...
But not enough to live with the danger day... after day... after day.
She'd somehow shove thoughts of him beyond her mind's reach. In less than nine months she'd be busy with his child and that would keep her mind occupied.
As she snapped the latch on the first trunk, knocks on the door startled her. She opened it to find Stefan standing in the doorway.
He scanned the piles of clothing on the bed. "What are you doing?"
"Packing." As she said the word, her hands began to shake, not noticeable at first, but a slight tremble that she stopped by clutching a garment and flattening it inside a trunk. As the silence stretched, the trembling moved up her arms and spread, seeming to follow the course of their love—slight at first, then growing stronger, until her body felt achy and a tightness gripped her chest as if trying to squeeze out her heart...
"Why?"
"I'm not renewing my contract. I'm leaving Porter Brothers when we get to New Orleans." A long silence hung, and Joanna knew Stefan was trying to digest that fact. She returned to her packing. Although her back was to him, she felt his eyes on her.
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