Ascension (22 page)

The woman’s eyes scanned the vicinity, looking for a familiar face and, finding none, rested on Salvo. Her eyes were a deep brown, almost black, and she appeared to assess Salvo for a moment before she approached him.

“Hello,” she said, her voice and manner confident.

“Hello.”

“Look, I don’t really know many people here, and my cousin over there’s having a problem grasping the parameters of the fact that we’re sort of related, so can I stand here with you for a while?” She flashed him a smile.

“Yes.” Salvo’s palms began to sweat.

“You’re in the circus?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what do you do?” she asked.

“I walk the wire.”

“Really? I’ve never seen the circus before. Is your act dangerous?”

Salvo shrugged. “Only if I fall.”

The woman laughed at this, a sound pleasing to Salvo’s ears. He hardly ever laughed. “You have an accent. Where are you from?”

“Transylvania. Hungary.”

“You’re Hungarian?”

“I am a Rom.”

The woman paused. Salvo expected her to ask him if he was from Rome, which many Americans did. But she surprised him.

“Your people are not doing very well right now,” she said.

Salvo nodded. “That is how it always is.”

The woman took a drink of her champagne, Salvo of his iced tea. Someone passing by bumped into the woman, and she brushed against Salvo. As the person apologized, Salvo felt a buzz of electricity run up his arm where their skin had met.

“Will you be performing tonight?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I will see you.” She made a move as if to leave.

“My name is Salvo,” he blurted out.

The woman smiled. “Nice to meet you, Salvo. My name is Anna. Good luck tonight.” She walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Salvo looked away from where she had been just in time to see Norris Fisher-Fielding glaring at him. He looked down at his feet, and when he looked up Norris was gone.

At the other end of the ring, Cole concluded his conversation with Arthur Simpson. The man was hard to read, and from what he could tell, it didn’t appear that he had made up his mind either way. Cole was relieved that at least he hadn’t decided to throw his support to the Spouses and was somewhat confident that upon viewing the Extravaganza that evening, Simpson would lean towards Cole. The circus could move even the most stoic of souls, he knew.

In the time before he would have to walk, Salvo tried his best to put Anna out of his mind. It was obvious that she was of
a different class and from an entirely different world. He had to concentrate on that night’s show, not think about some girl he’d probably never see again. On his way back to his railcar he passed the elephants, and he swore that one of them was glaring at him the same way that Norris had glared at him. He suppressed a shiver but was unable to relax in the hours that followed.

It was another sell-out night, the big top packed to bursting. Salvo waited outside with Margit and Etel while András checked the rigging on the opposite side of the tent. Etel smoked three cigarettes in rapid succession and was in the process of rolling a fourth. Margit’s hands fidgeted with the folds of her costume, and Salvo rhythmically clenched and unclenched his fists. András returned only moments before the cat act went into its final movements, and together they silently entered the big top and ascended to the wire.

Cole watched from his seat as the Magnificent Ursari Troupe began their act. On his left was his loyal nephew, Martin, and to his direct right sat Arthur Simpson, his daughter, Anna, from his second marriage, and then Cole’s nemesis, Norris Fisher-Fielding. The Spouses and various Respectables rounded out the row, everybody pretending that this was simply an amiable trip to their beloved circus, no one openly stating the animosity that flew back and forth between the two camps. Feeling his nerves begin to race, Cole discreetly popped one of the glycerine tablets he had been prescribed for his heart into his mouth and resolved to appreciate the rest of the performance. If the vote tomorrow didn’t go his way, this would be his last show as F-F president. If that was the case, he didn’t want his last show to pass unenjoyed.

With the rest of the audience he craned his neck skyward as Salvo stepped onto the wire. As usual, the Ursaris started with a simple crossing, building gradually in sophistication. But this time
something different happened. When Salvo was three-quarters of the way across, he noticed a moth. There was nothing special about it; it was one of many that attempted to eat away at the untreated side walls of the canvas. But it didn’t matter. Even though it was never within five feet of Salvo, it was as though he’d been confronted by the angel of death, and he backed up, visibly frightened. For a moment it looked as though he would fall, his back foot missing the wire, his balance lost. The audience gasped, fearing the worst. But then, and he didn’t know why, his mind told his head to turn, and he found his gaze locked into that of the woman Anna. She returned his gaze, and unlike everyone else in the big top, she was not the least bit alarmed. She was calm as a newborn, her face serene and reassuring. He could see that she knew he would not fall, and so he did not. As if he had total control over the laws of physics, he easily regained his balance. Everyone, including Cole Fisher-Fielding, breathed a sigh of relief. Salvo tipped his pole in salute and continued to the end of the wire. Arthur Simpson glanced at Cole and smiled approval. Cole believed that Salvo’s salute had been intended for him, and he felt a rush of pride. He was certain the vote would go in his favour.

When Salvo reached the platform András shot him a look of fright. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Salvo answered. “I’m fine. Let’s get on with it.”

András knew he was lying, but now was not the time to go into any detail. Salvo didn’t doubt that he could continue with the act, but he knew he would feel the full weight of his mistake once he was on the ground.

Anna Simpson had never seen anything like Salvo’s act before, and he was unlike any person she had ever met. How he walked that wire she didn’t know, but she suspected it was magic. When he had looked down at her she’d felt as if he had looked
right into her, through her clothes and her skin and flesh, all the way to her spine, to the marrow in her bones. She wondered what his life was like, what he looked like when he slept, what he smelled like. She had stood next to him that very afternoon, and she could not remember if he had smelled of anything. Anna resolved to find out.

To Salvo, the rest of the act passed in a daze. It was only after they were back in their railcar that he snapped out of his stupor.

“What was that?” Margit asked, angry.

András was equally upset. “You almost fall on an easy crossover and then you expect us to trust you with our lives?”

Etel stayed quiet, but he could see she was disappointed in him.

“Nothing happened. I didn’t fall. I wasn’t even close. Leave it alone.”

Etel got up and left the railcar.

“Don’t tell us nothing happened,” András said. “We have eyes, we see.”

“It won’t happen again. I worry about myself. You do the same.”

Margit threw her hands in the air. “He’s like a stone,” she said to András. “I need some air.” She too left.

András followed her, pausing as he exited. “We need you to be the best of all of us,” he said. “We cannot put ourselves on the wire if you can’t be trusted.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Salvo rubbed the back of his neck.

András nodded slowly, then followed after Margit. It was still quite warm, even though the sun had gone down hours ago. Etel and Margit stood together at the edge of the rail area, Etel smoking furiously, Margit’s arms folded across her chest. Neither spoke until András approached.

“That was bad, there,” Margit said.

“It has passed. He’s good now,” András said.

“Can you guarantee it?”

András paused. “No.”

“Yes, you can,” Etel said. “He will not fall, and he will not make us fall. If you can’t see that, you should not go on the wire.”

“I saw him
nearly
fall,” Margit said, “and that’s more than enough to make me nervous.”

“You saw nothing. He was not even close to what it would take for him to fall. If it were one of us, we would have fallen, but not him.”

“What makes him different than us?” Margit asked, her tone mocking.

“He is better on the wire,” András said.

“He is more than that,” said Etel. “We are wire walkers, it is our job. Salvo lives for the wire. Salvo and the wire are the same thing. We will never be like that.”

No one spoke, both András and Margit knowing Etel was right. Etel threw out the nub of her cigarette, heeling it into the earth. “We should not be so quick to judge him.”

In the railcar, Salvo was being far harder on himself than any of the others ever could have been. He knew that he would not have fallen, that he was nowhere near falling, but that did not matter. His concentration had been shattered on the wire, and that was something that must never happen.

But what perplexed him most was how, when he should have been focusing all his attention on restoring equilibrium, he looked to the audience instead, straight to the one thing he had told himself to ignore, straight to Anna. How he’d known where to look he had no idea.

There was a knock at the railcar. Expecting it to be Cole Fisher-Fielding, Salvo didn’t answer, knowing the door would fly
open without any effort from him. But the door didn’t move, and after several seconds there was another knock. Salvo answered it. Anna stood there, accompanied by a nervous-looking porter.

“Hello again, Salvo Ursari,” she said.

“Hello, Anna.” Salvo became instantly aware that he smelled of that night’s performance.

“Thank you for your help,” she said to the porter, dismissing him with a tip. She looked at Salvo, who stood dumbfounded. “Would you like to take a walk?”

Salvo nodded and stepped out of the railcar. They walked towards the midway. In an attempt to behave like a gentleman, Salvo offered her his arm, which she accepted.

“I enjoyed the show tonight.”

“It has gone better.”

“No, it was good. The people loved you.”

Salvo stopped, turning towards her. “You knew, after I saw the butterfly, that I would not fall.”

“I didn’t see a butterfly.”

“Maybe it was a moth. I can never tell the difference. But you knew I would not fall.”

Anna turned her head to one side. “Of course.” She took a short breath. “If you fell, the world would fall with you. And I knew the world would not fall.”

They continued walking. Later both of them would remember this as the moment they fell in love.

T
HE NEXT DAY
A
NNA WAS IN THE STANDS
to see Salvo walk in the matinee, a walk that passed without incident. Neither her father nor Cole Fisher-Fielding were sitting with her, however. Both were in attendance at the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company’s annual general meeting.

The financial officer reported that profits were up since the war, that record crowds were coming in, and that, in short, the F-F had never been in better shape. Nevertheless, Rebecca Fisher-Fielding-Barnes insisted on challenging Cole’s leadership, attacking his character, his business sense and his ability to run the show. It was a speech for the Respectables; everyone else knew how they were voting. When a vote was called, Cole and his nephew Martin voted for his continued presidency, and Rebecca, her husband, Phillip, and Charlotte Fisher-Fielding voted for Norris Fisher-Fielding. Because Cole’s vote counted as two, the result was a tie. The Respectables would, for the first time in F-F history, control the fate of the circus.

As Arthur Simpson stood to cast a vote on behalf of the dozen or so assembled relatives, Cole tried in vain to swallow the lump in his throat. Arthur Simpson calmly winked at Cole, then cast the deciding vote in his favour. He would remain in charge until 1947, at which time there would have to be another vote. Cole had dodged a bullet for now. He thanked the Respectables for their support, promising them that the F-F would continue to thrive under his direction. Norris sulked in the corner, not appearing at all pleased with the token position he was elected to later in the meeting.

That night, as they watched the show, Martin and Cole were in high spirits.

“Did you see the little weasel’s face?” Martin said, laughing.

Cole snorted but said nothing.

“Shot you a look that could kill. God help us if he ever gets his greedy hands on the F-F.”

Cole hardly heard Martin. He was busy noting Anna Simpson’s rapt attention to the Ursari act, Salvo in particular. He knew she had been to the matinee and that this was the third
consecutive show she had attended. From the way she looked at Salvo, he could tell why she was there. Cole was grateful that the vote had already happened; Arthur Simpson would more than likely not have thrown his support to Cole if he had known that his daughter was swooning over one of his performers. Even so, he could sense trouble brewing.

His feelings proved correct. When the circus pulled out of Washington late the next night, after a third sold-out evening performance, Anna Simpson was aboard the Ursaris’ sleeping car. Cole received a furious call from Arthur Simpson the next day, but there was little he could tell him that was of any relief to the man. Both Salvo and Anna were adults, after all, and Cole knew from experience that when a person decided to run away with the circus there was nothing anyone else could do.

Salvo could not believe what Anna had done. That he was in love with her was no surprise, but that she could love him back baffled and amazed him. When her father threatened to disinherit her, he told her she should go back. She refused, saying she would only leave if he didn’t love her, and he could not tell her that, so she stayed. It was hard for them at first; the circus was not a place that afforded young lovers much privacy, and it seemed that András or Margit or Etel were always around, which they were. But they managed somehow, and nine months after they were married in the ring, Anna gave birth to identical-twin daughters. For a long time after that, Salvo would sleep soundly.