Entwined (37 page)

He made her feel secure, a feeling she had never experienced before. She felt warmed by this big soft man, and gently she stroked his chest, and then rolled over to lie on top of him. She smiled and then whispered that she could make him happy, there were ways, she would teach him how to make love to her, he would like it, he would be satisfied.

The old hand and the few workers left at the winter quarters gave knowing winks and nudges as a very happy Grimaldi greeted them the morning after the wedding. He was a man who appeared infatuated. Maybe it was indeed love.

♦ ♦ ♦

The big album dropped to the floor, and Grimaldi woke with a start. For a moment he was disoriented, couldn't even remember coming into Ruda's bedroom. "You're gettin' old, you old bugger, noddin' off…" He yawned, and leaning back he became aware of Ruda's scent on the pillow. He nuzzled it, and then slipped his arm around it, sighing. "Oh Ruda…where did I go wrong, huh?" He knew she would give him hell if she found him in her room, but he chuckled and eased himself into a more comfortable position. His last thought before he fell into a deep sleep was of Ruda. "What a bloody wife…"

♦ ♦ ♦

Ruda had intended to apply for a divorce from Kellerman as soon as she had the opportunity. That she had married Grimaldi bigamously never worried her; with Kellerman in prison, he would not find out; by the time he was out she would have secured a divorce. She wished she had done it in Vegas, as she had told Grimaldi she had, but she had been in such a hurry to leave that divorce had been the last thing on her mind.

Grimaldi began to earn money by training other acts, traveling around the United States. He returned with gifts, and cash to buy-new cats for his show. Ruda worked at the winter quarters. She learned how to groom and feed the animals, and they thrived under her care and attention. They began to breed the tigers and their first summer together as man and wife saw four new cubs born. Ruda was a doting mother, and was heartbroken when Grimaldi sold the cubs. He said they had to because they needed the money, but also he said the cubs were not a good color. He taught Ruda how to spot the best of the litters, how to test their strength. Health was always the main priority. Ruda was a willing pupil. She worked tirelessly, nothing was too much trouble. Everyone said that Grimaldi had found the perfect wife, that Ruda was getting him back on his feet.

Ruda continued with her stargazing sideline. The letters arrived every week, and she would spend hours every evening typing replies, making predictions. She typed very slowly with two fingers, deep in concentration. She had a dictionary beside her, always thumbing the well-worn pages. Grimaldi used to tease her, and at times was stunned when she asked him to spell the simplest of words. He believed at first it was because she was German and typing in English, but then watching her effort he understood she was almost illiterate. She had caught him observing her and had given him the finger. "I never went to school, dickhead, so no jokes!"

He leaned over her chair and began to read a letter. She tried to cover it with her hand, but he snatched it out of the roller.

" 'Dear Worried from Nebraska'—my God, what in God's name is somebody writing to you from Nebraska for?"

"I've done her charts, now give it back."

Grimaldi had waved the letter jokingly. "Her charts? What in Christ's name do you know about all this junk?"

He roared with laughter as he read Ruda's predictions. She folded her arms. "You laugh, but they pay ten bucks a letter, and they pay for the cats' feed. You got any better ideas how to make dough that fast?"

Grimaldi slapped the paper down and patted her head. "Keep working, keep working!"

She had carefully rolled the paper back into the typewriter, and he was about to walk out when he paused at the doorway. "You never did tell me how you did that scarf trick, you know, with that old magician?"

She began typing again, and without looking at him said that it wasn't a trick. He told her to stop pulling his leg, but she turned to face him. "That wasn't a trick. I'm telepathic."

"Oh yeah, prove it!"

She shrugged and said she didn't feel like it, but he insisted, teasing her, asking her to prove it. She sighed, then pushed the typewriter aside. She picked up the stack of letters she had received that week. She handed them to him, thumbing through them like a pack of cards. She then looked away and told him to turn up each envelope and she would tell him the color of the stamps. She repeated, in rapid succession:
red, blue, red, red, green, blue, red, red, red, red
…she then swiveled around in her chair and cocked her head.

"You knew…you cheated!"

She held out her hand and shrugged. "Yeah…Now can I get on with my work?"

"Don't let me hold you up, carry on!" But he remained leaning at the doorway watching her, until she looked up at him and made a funny face.

"Is it just the colors then? I mean, can you do anything else?"

She laughed. "If I were to say yes, what you gonna do? Set up a booth and make me wear a turban? Just get out, go on, don't you have anything to do?"

Grimaldi laughed. As he stepped down he called out: "I'll get myself a cloak like that old boy you worked with. Old Two Seats can bend over and give us a good fart, I'll set light to it!"

She could hear him laughing as he passed by the window, and then he stuck his head against the glass. "Did I tell you today how much I love you? Eh? Cross my palm with silver…and I'll tell you how much!"

She gave him the finger, shouted for him to "Sit on it!" and he gave his marvelous, deep-bellied laugh, and at last he went about his business.

Ruda began her laborious typing once more, but after a moment, she sat back and slid out from beneath the typewriter a slip of paper. It was another advertisement, in another place: Florida. She stared at the two lines, remembering how Tommy Kellerman had told her she was crazy. First she crumpled the paper, then changing her mind she straightened out the creases, and read and reread the two lines, "Red, blue, green, Ruda…" and the message Tommy had hated so much.

Ruda crossed to her dressing table, opened a drawer, and took out the small black tin box now fitted with a new lock. She went to get the key, hidden in the bookcase, and unlocked it. She looked at the stack of newspaper clippings. The last one she had inserted was in Vegas. This had been the longest pause between ads, perhaps because, for the first time in her life, she felt a sense of security.

Ruda locked away her secrets again, carefully hiding the tiny key, and returned to her typewriter. She sat staring at the white sheet of paper in the roller. She couldn't concentrate. She went into the bedroom and as she passed the door she slipped the bolt across, drew the curtains, until the small room was in semidarkness.

She sat in front of the dressing table and slowly drew toward herself the three-sided, freestanding mirror. She got closer and closer until she could see her breath form a tiny gray circle on the glass. She turned her head first to the left, then her right. Finally she stared directly ahead. She breathed deeply through her nose, until she felt the strange, dizzy sensation sweep over her. Her shoulders lifted as her breathing deepened…first came the red, as if a beam of red light were focused on her face. She breathed deeper, concentrated harder, until the red turned into a deep green, then a blue. The colors began flashing and repeating:
red, blue, red, red, green…
They never fused, each was a clear block of single color. Her body began to shake, her hands gripped the edge of the table. The bottles of cologne vibrated, and the entire dressing table began to sway; she held on tightly for as long as she could, before she regulated her breathing again, bringing herself slowly out of the trance.

Her body felt limp, exhausted. Then she tilted her face forward to kiss the cold glass. Slowly she sat back, and traced with her fingers the faint impression of her lips lingering on the glass. She was consumed by an overpowering longing; the desire to feel warm lips return her kiss was like a pain inside her, a pain that, like her scars, would never heal. She could never give up, never, because on three occasions she was sure she had felt a contact.

She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep. But a nagging pain at the base of her spine made her feel uncomfortable. She turned on her side, but the pain grew worse, it began to feel as though something were being ripped out of her belly. Ruda was frightened as the pain intensified…she gripped her stomach, it felt swollen, and she began to rub her hands over it. As quickly as the pain had begun, it subsided. Ruda lay back.

Then the pain started again. Twisting in agony, she called out for Grimaldi. The rush of pain centered in her belly and as she tried to sit up, she screamed with all the power in her lungs.

Grimaldi was working in the barn. He paused and listened. "Did you hear that? Eh, you toothless old bastard, was that one of the cats?"

Two Seats shrugged. Grimaldi stood for a moment longer, listening intently. Hearing nothing more he resumed his work, but after a while he tossed down the pitchfork and walked back to the trailer. He peered in through the window, then crossed to the door, dragging his feet on the grid to wipe off the mud. He was just about to enter when he heard the bolt on the door drawn back.

"Ruda? You okay? Ruda?"

She opened the door, her face pale, shiny with sweat.

"What you lock the door for?"

Ruda gave a weak smile. "I just didn't feel too good. I think it must be something I ate. I've been sick."

"You running a temperature?"

He reached out to touch her face and she stepped back. "No, I'm fine now, you get on with your work. I'll lie down for a while. Goon."

"I'll check on the cats, I swear I heard screaming. Did you hear anything?"

"Get back to work, you lazy old so and so. I'll bring over some food. It was just something I ate, now off… off you go!"

He smiled, walking back to the barn, calling her a slave driver. He didn't notice that she held on to the door for support.

As soon as Grimaldi was out of sight, Ruda inched back to the table and slumped into the chair by her typewriter. She had felt this same pain before, although she couldn't remember exactly when, but the pain had been the same. She tried to type, forcing herself not to think about what she had just been through because it frightened her. She was terrified of doctors; hospital doctors in white coats made her shake with terror.

She felt her energy returning, and with great determination she forced herself to continue working, jotting down the week's itinerary for the work she had lined up for Grimaldi. Almost immediately she felt better.

With Ruda pushing him, Grimaldi continued taking on more training work. As the money came in, they began to buy more and more animals. Weekends he would train them, and she sat and watched his every move. Gradually she began to work alone when he was away, putting into practice everything she had seen him do.

They bought a new trailer and a truck and then one night, he sat her down.

"I know your injuries, the scars, but I was wondering, with you being here, and me away working until we have enough finances, that maybe this would be a good time…"

"For what?" she had asked, dragging out the typewriter.

"Maybe we should see a specialist. They have all kinds of newfangled equipment now, and maybe we should go see someone about having a baby."

She continued picking up papers, stacking them neatly at the typewriter, carrying her boxes of mail to the table. Over the past few months her little sideline had grown into a lucrative business. Having a semipermanent address helped, and she worked each evening after the animals were settled. Grimaldi sometimes sat and watched her, although he never read any of the letters, he was never that interested.

Tonight, though, he wasn't prepared to sit. He didn't want her working, he felt this was too important.

"Ruda, listen to me. Maybe, just maybe, you can have this done medically, you know, artificial insemination. We could at least try."

"I have enough work cut out for me, without bringing up a kid."

"I want a son, Ruda. I mean, we're breaking our backs to get an act back together, so why not? We'd have a hell of a boy, Ruda. Don't you even want to give it a try?"

She rolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter and started to type. He came and stood behind her, massaging her shoulders. He felt her shoulders shaking. She tried to type, and then folded her hands in her lap.

"If it hurts you, then we walk away. I don't want anything to hurt you, but we should just go see somebody."

He kissed the top of her head and left her. Slowly she began to type: "Baby-baby-baby-baby…MY BABY. MY BABY. MY SON…"

She stared at the word until it blurred. She touched the paper, the word
baby
. Nothing had prepared her for this, for Luis wanting a child. She whispered: "My child, he would be mine. My baby."

It had never occurred to her that there was a way. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. Would it be possible? Dare she think it could be?

She ran out of the trailer, shouted to old Two Seats asking if he'd seen Grimaldi, and he pointed to the barn. She ran, calling for him, and hurtled into the barn. He was using a pitchfork, heaving the bales of hay. She threw herself at him, backing him onto the bales.

"Luis, Luis…I want a baby!
I want a baby…I want I want I want!
"

They kissed, and held each other tightly. She was excited, almost feverishly so, and asked him to fix an appointment. She would do anything necessary, and then she had leaned up on her elbows, looking down into his delighted face. "You love me, don't you? You really love me!"

Luis knew what it meant to her to learn she could not conceive. She had not spoken a word since they had returned from the clinic, and he was incapable of comforting her, needing comfort himself Even when he tried to reach out to her in bed she had turned her back on him.

"Don't touch me, please leave me alone."