Bram looked at the little woman, whose kind eyes were glistening at the memory. Curpo had told him places like that existed, but he had never known anyone who had actually lived at one. “It must have been awful, Marigold. But they did take care of you, didn’t they?”
“They took care of us, all right,” she said. “There was never enough staff, or decent food, and the place was always drafty. Sometimes, when I was sitting in the dark, all the spooky demons in my mind would come out. If I sneezed, or my nose dripped and grew cold and chapped, I couldn’t wipe it. If I was chilled and needed my shawl, I stayed chilled. That’s when I let my hair grow so long; it helped keep me warm. The worst was if I had to go to the toilet. I had to sit in my wet urine all night. You see, I have these tubes under here”—she glanced down—“and, well, I was petrified thinking of what could happen, like if I started to fall—or fell face down! Why, I couldn’t breathe if I did that!” Marigold’s face was flushed now, her eyes wide at remembering.
“A bee might crawl on my face, or they would leave me in the sun too long. Once I saw a large rat enter my room and I couldn’t see where it went! I knew it could do anything it wanted to me, crawl on my face or bite me—and there was nothing I could do! I thought I felt something on my back. I gasped, and when I did, I swallowed some of my hair. Every time I tried to breathe, I swallowed more. I was choking and there was no way to let anybody know. I was truly lucky, though. A paraplegic saw me and ran his wheelchair into an attendant to get her attention.” Marigold continued, “I guess I felt very sorry for myself until Moonspirit came along. She and I are the same intellectually, and our friendship and trust has grown.” She paused thoughtfully.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m getting married. Well,” she said, without waiting for an answer, “nobody has ever needed me. I’ve always needed help, but when I met Karl at Baselfeld, he was so sad and lonely, it brought back memories of my past. We used to talk for hours. We have the same interests, the same philosophy about life. We get along well, and are good companions for each other. We’d never find normal people wanting us, and besides, we understand each other’s needs.”
“What about Moonspirit?” Bram asked.
“She’ll stay with us. The three of us will get along just fine.” At this, Little Marigold smiled a mischievous smile. Bram sensed something in her voice that was a bit odd, something beyond the understanding of his age. He let it go. Wishing Little Marigold well, Bram headed for the barn, proud that she had chosen him to confide in.
The wedding was a simple affair. It was held in the sideshow tent. Everyone from the circus attended, plus a few friends from town. Flowers were arranged on either side of the main stage. The calliope man played the wedding march from clear across the circus grounds (old man Gobel wouldn’t let them move it). Little Marigold looked beautiful in her wedding gown, with its lace-covered bodice and yards of white satin that draped from her “waist” to the floor. A tiara of red roses crowned her golden hair that swept down the full length of the dress.
Josef and Katrina were there to share in the joy of the wedding, each knowing how happy wedded life could be.
Appelle, dressed in his clown outfit (that’s the way they wanted it) was the best man. String and Himmel the bear trainer were ushers. Lilith, the Fat Lady, was the maid of honor.
As unusual as it may have seemed, when Moonspirit carried little Marigold down the sawdust aisle, on a gold and satin pillow, with Karl walking beside them, love and caring were on every face. Tears flowed and sobbing was heard when Mesmera, the Snake Lady, fastened a gold chain around each of their necks, from which hung their gold wedding rings. They said their “I do’s” and Karl kissed Little Marigold. Everyone applauded as they came down the aisle and got into a waiting car to begin their weekend honeymoon.
“Well, Curpo,” said Bram, “that was some wedding. I’m really happy for them.”
Bram and Curpo got into the back of the truck, Josef and Katrina into the front, and headed back to the farm.
The years fell like dominoes, each no different from the last. Modoc grew at an astonishing rate, her heart keeping pace with her body. She had an enormous capacity for loving all things—and they in turn loved her. Birds landed on her back, picking and scratching, cats rubbed against her legs without fear of being stepped on. The mice in the hay ran only if they were in the hay on the way to her mouth.
Fall came quickly that year, and Christmas was just around the corner. Big butane heaters were wheeled into the barn to keep Mo and the livestock warm, for the cold months now descended upon them.
The circus closed its doors for the season. Many employees went their own way, waiting for spring so they could rejoin one another again. The equipment was battened down. The canvas tents, except the menagerie, were folded and stored. Strong, hardy animals like the camels, llamas, and goats stayed to last out the winter. A few dedicated keepers remained to feed, water, and care for the livestock.
Bitter German blizzards descended, one after the other, and the sun was not to shine for months to come. The countryside was blanketed by a deep, snowy white. The skeletal trees stood starkly against the cold gray sky. Carrying the same morbidity, all things looked the same. Water stopped running, lakes and streams turned to ice.
For some perhaps, winter brings joy and cheer—a time to play, to ski the mountain slopes, to sled, to skate, and to throw snowballs. For those who care for livestock, who worry about lasting the winter, as Josef did, to see if they still had jobs in the spring, who strove to provide enough heat and food for their families and the animals just to stay alive, these were times of depression. Times of survival.
The Gunterstein barn had always been used for the circus’s winter quarters. Josef, good soul that he was, offered it, and Herr Gobel, greedy man that he was, accepted. He never offered Josef an extra pittance for allowing the animals and some equipment to stay there. Gobel supplied the animals with food, but even that came scarce.
Traditionally some performers set up sleeping arrangements within the barn and helped to care for the livestock. Bram felt it was really to shelter those who didn’t have a place of their own during the winter months. In truth, it did more. There was an undercurrent of fear running through all of them, fear of the loss of the circus. It was more than their jobs, it was their lives. The circus kept the “family” together.
The roustabouts securely tied down everything at the circus grounds so the blustery driving wind and rain wouldn’t carry it away. A few were left there to guard the heavy equipment. Gray, dismal skies never altered the pale look of everything. The hay bales in the barn were slowly being depleted, being used for both feed and bedding. As the season took its course, the domestic stock—cows, horses, pigs, goats, and the barnyard birds—had taken a liking to the exotic animals, especially Modoc, and on particularly cold nights they would huddle up to her for the warmth her large body could offer.
“That old man, Herr Gobel, hasn’t even been by to see us this winter,” Katrina observed. Josef was gripping his stomach as his ulcers again declared their painful existence. This was not lost on his wife. “It’s because he knows you’ll take care of everything for him,” she continued. “You’ve spoiled him rotten, you know.”
Josef hadn’t eaten a full meal in the last week. His skin had no color to it, and the gaunt look in his face bespoke the worry in his heart.
Weeks turned into months, and as the snow piled deeper against the old barn, the road leading to the farm became completely impassable. Anyone entering had to brave a small path that paralleled the road. It zigzagged through the bleak grove of sycamores and over the small bridge that straddled the slopes where the runoff of melted snow from the mountain poured down in the summertime.
Over the past year Bram had tried to see Gertie as often as possible, but the constant storms and bad weather conditions kept them apart. Even schools had been closed, and telephone lines had been down for some time. All Bram could think of were the wonderful mome
nts they’d spent together, especially at Cryer Lake. These tender thoughts were always in his mind and helped carry him through some of the cold winter nights.
Late on a Friday evening, when the storm clouds had disappeared for the first time in many weeks, a bright cold sky asserted itself. A third-quarter moon lit up the countryside. One light burned in the farmhouse that sat still and alone in the snow-covered valley. Smoke drifted up from the chimney as Katrina finished making a kettle of potato-corn soup and six or seven dozen raisin-nut cookies. The cookies had been Bram’s favorites since boyhood. She smiled at the thought. He was, of course, still a boy, but he had gotten so big and was handling so many chores that sometimes she saw more of the man in him than the boy.
“Maybe it is the weather,” Himmel suggested.
A small group gathered around the fire that Josef had built in the early weeks of winter. It had been kept burning to take away the chill that each and every day brought. There had been no mail for weeks, and the discussion centered around whether the rumors about the circus closing down were true.
“No, they could have gotten through to wish us well, see how the animals are, or if we need anything,” another objected.
“If it ’ad just been a story, we would ’ave ’eard by now,” added Curpo. “Not a word ’as come down.”
“Maybe the post couldn’t get through,” suggested Heinz, but Josef knew that last month’s mail had just been picked up.
“No news is…well…no news,” added Karl. He laughed at his own mockery of the seriousness of the situation, while the others looked on with less levity.
Katrina arrived at the barn, the roustabouts close behind, helping her with the hot, heavy kettle. Hissing steam escaped the pot’s lid into the air. The delicious aroma filled the barn and everybody grabbed whatever was handy to dip into the pot of savory soup. Other foods that had been prepared were passed around. Appelle lit a small fire in the middle of the dirt floor and together with his chimpanzees, roasted chestnuts. These were passed around with Lilith’s fraupotatoes, beefsteak, some sweet corn. Hot coffee rounded out the meal. Katrina’s rich cookies were dessert.
This particular evening Modoc decided to retire early, lying right in the middle of the barn’s activity. As her tonnage slowly settled to the ground, everybody moved quickly, pulling chairs, sleeping bags, and cots out of the way. Bram found an old pillow and nestled against her head. The livestock scattered throughout the barn, some resting against Heinz’s bear Karno, and others with Tina and Emma. One of Appelle’s chimps fell in love with a rooster who loved to pick at the chimp’s back. It must have felt good, as the chimp would lie there for hours while the bird walked up and down its back, picking and scratching.
The recesses of the barn echoed with the old-timers’ tales of the circus as it used to be, of the thrills and excitement when the people crowded into the big top to see the Mighty Samson defeat Ackavar, the Fighting Bull, or watch Persaavich, the greatest aerialist who ever lived, perform his dangerous routine without a net. In the middle of Josef’s story of how, ten years back, the circus had survived a fire, a fight broke out between String’s pet performing goat and a farmyard pig. Nothing serious. Both wanted to lie by Modoc. Both wanted exactly the same spot. They had plenty of space, but they wanted that same spot. The cooking fire burned low as, one by one, people and animals alike drifted off to sleep.
“Slip is gone.”
“What—Slip? I don’t know any Slip,” muttered Lilith, trying to roll her bulk over, half asleep.
“Slip, my python. He’s missing,” said Mesmera.
“Mm, well, tomorrow—we’ll—WHAATT!” Six hundred pounds of anything never moved as quickly as did Lilith. “Where! Where is she?” she cried.
“It’s a he, and if I knew I wouldn’t have asked you. God, you don’t have to wake up the whole place, you know.”
By now everybody in the barn was alerted to the fact that Mesmera’s fifteen-foot python was missing. Half the people retreated outside into the freezing snow rather than confront the serpent. The other half tore up the barn, searching every nook and cranny. Slip was finally found wrapped comfortably among Moonspirit’s multitude of satin and velvet pillows. Once Slip was safely put away under Mesmera’s care, the frozen little group came back inside the barn. They huddled around the cook stove, shivering, shaking, and saying bad things.
“Stupid snake,” grumbled String.
“Slimy worm,” added Lilith.
“Freak,” said Little Marigold.
That did it. Hysterical laughter broke out from everywhere.
“Good night, everybody!”
Bram couldn’t sleep. He nudged Curpo to keep a sleepy eye on Mo and buttoning up his jacket, stepped out into the clear white night. He was worried. His father didn’t look well at all. The somber mood of the circus family, all concerned whether there would be a circus to return to, depressed him. And above all, what about Modoc? What would he do without her? Cold mist of the night air escaped his mouth as he sighed deeply.
Bram’s belief in nature being the Supreme Entity gave him a feeling of inner strength as he looked up. He felt a kinship with the stars, and even with the desolate countryside around him. He closed his eyes, took a moment to think only good thoughts, then turned to rejoin his friends. As he opened the barn door, a flash of light caught his eye. A car was braving the cold winter elements, slipping and sliding up the road. As it came to a stop down below, at his driveway, Bram saw a figure emerge and wave goodbye to the driver. The car managed a U-turn and headed back in the other direction. A moment of terror overcame Bram. Was this the messenger on his way to tell them about the circus? Had it been sold? The person, too far away to identify, was in a hurry, occasionally tumbling in the deep snow as it headed toward the barn. The figure wore a large winter overcoat and was bundled up to keep out the chill. Bram waited at the top of the road, and as the figure drew closer, he felt he knew this person. Could it be? Nein, but…it looked…Bram was muttering to himself.
“Gertie…” Bram half-whispered. “Gertie! Is that you?”
“Bram! Bram!” Her voice rang out as clearly as a crystal bell.
Cold happy tears ran down his cheeks as he raced down the hill, slipping and sliding until they collided, tumbling over into the snow several times, each holding the other until they wound up in a soft embankment of snow. For this brief moment, life was perfection. Hidden beneath layers of their parkas’ high collars and their scarves, their faces merged. It was warm inside as they explored each other with steamy kisses and touches. Cold noses, warm cheeks, and eager mouths found kin. Bram had never been so happy to see anyone as he was to see Gertie. Arm in arm they joined the others, but for some reason, it just didn’t seem as cold as it had been before.
Josef was sick. The doctor’s car was parked by the farmhouse. Bram had seen it before, whenever his father’s ulcers and coughing spells acted up—these days it was every few months. In the beginning the medicine had taken care of the problem and his father would be up and about within a couple of days. Since summer, however, his condition had worsened, and the prescriptions seemed to have little or no effect. Doctors had been baffled by his illness. They understood his ulcers and felt the reason he had them was his concern for the elephants and the circus. The cough, however, was a mystery. Tuberculosis was ruled out. Some thought it was consumption. The doctors couldn’t understand why the ulcers were affected by his deep coughing. Bram was worried about his father, knowing Josef was not a complainer. If the doctors were there, it must be bad.
Bram put Modoc up in the barn and entered the house as Dr. Kreiss and his mother came downstairs. The doctor told Katrina to keep Josef in bed and to make certain he took his medicine.
“Is Papa going to be all right?” asked Bram, seeing the moisture glistening in the corners of his mother’s bright eyes.
“For now, son, for now,” she said, and went back upstairs.
“Move up, Mo!”
Bram took Mo out for
a walk. She’d been in the barn for over ten days, waiting for a big storm to pass. The last couple of days had been warmer and today the sun shone brightly and the day was clear, as if it were summer. The snow was melted around the barn, except for the shaded areas to the north. Bram rode atop Modoc.
“No use both of us getting our feet wet,” he rationalized to Mo. He was careful not to walk her in the slippery patches and stuck to the walkways everybody had been using. There the grass grew through patches of snow and allowed Mo’s big feet some traction.
It was early Saturday morning and all were still sleeping. Mo found some frozen grass peeking from under a little snow, and she ripped it up, smacking it against her leg to remove the ice. The rattle of tire chains broke the stillness as a small truck traveled down the roadway, heading straight for them. Bram’s heart skipped a beat. It was the mail truck. Why now? This wasn’t mail time. It usually wasn’t delivered until after two.
Bram saw a sign on the truck that read SPECIAL DELIVERY. The postman carefully slowed the vehicle to a stop on the icy road so the wheels wouldn’t skid. He stuck his head out the window.
“I have a letter for Herr Gunterstein.”
“Right here,” Bram said. “I’ll take it.”
To the postman’s surprise, the letter was handed up by Modoc’s trunk, signed for by Bram, and the receipt was returned to the postman.
Bram put the letter down between Mo’s shoulder bones, studying it for some time, wondering at its contents. It’s during these times, he mused, we try to change what we believe is about to happen. Bram used his imagination to alter what he thought was in the letter. It was to no avail. Down deep, he knew what it said. A tearing feeling cut through his stomach: Modoc. Slowly turning the envelope around, he sought the name of the writer. It was from Herr Gobel to Herr Josef Gunterstein. A cool breeze from the north made Modoc shiver. Bram felt the vibrations coursing through her body, causing a shiver in him as though they were one. He slid the letter inside his shirt.