Ralph Helfer (6 page)

W
HEN
B
RAM ARRIVED
at the circus grounds it looked as though a tornado had come during the middle of the night and taken it away. All the circus equipment had been packed in big cargo crates, stamped across the front in ten-inch red letters:
DESTINATION U.S.A.
The big top had been taken down and packed, most of the vehicles had been sold, and the calliope was being readied for shipment. The fairways had been dismantled and lay on the ground, ready for packing. Only the menagerie tent still stood. Jake was repairing an elephant harness when Bram walked up.

“Morning, Jake, how’s Mo this morning?”

“Hi, kid. Jumbo is fine. Look for yourself.”

“Jumbo?”

“Yeah. That’s her new name. Better for advertising.”

“But won’t it confuse her, having two names?”

“She doesn’t have two names,” Jake answered irritably, “and
don’t let me catch you using Mo or any other name anymore. You hear me, kid?”

“Sure, Jake, I hear you.”

Mo was nibbling her hay when Bram entered the tent. She gave him a low rumble of affection and a hug with her trunk. Bram grabbed an ear and, pulling it down, whispered, “Hi, Mosie.”

Spring was fast approaching. The melting snow had filled the rivers, days were becoming warmer, and beautiful flowers filled the hills and valleys. It was on such a day that a car, horn honking, sped into the circus grounds and headed straight to the menagerie tent. Curpo sat next to the driver. Both jumped out of the car and approached Bram. After talking a minute, the three quickly got in the car. With a cloud of dust kicking up behind it, the car raced out of town to the Gunterstein farm. Josef had taken a turn for the worse.

The spring sun cleared the ridge as the procession slowly wound its way up the dirt road to Grenchin Hill Cemetery. It was named after Mr. Meister’s daughter, who had lost her life falling from her horse on the very spot where the cemetery was located. She was the only one buried there until Meister died. Since then, a few had chosen this lovely spot to sleep their longest sleep. It overlooked miles of rolling green hills that eventually melted into the great mountains to the north. Grenchin Hill itself was quite steep, and the graveyard had room for only a few dozen. Josef had known the family since childhood, and when Meister died, he left two sites for Josef.

On a nearby hill, silhouetted against the sky, Bram and Gertie sat atop Modoc. They looked unrelated to what was happening down below, as if they were from another time. The trio watched the serpentine line of cars make its way up the hill. Some of Josef’s friends came in trucks, others arrived in family cars. A nearby neighbor drove his tractor directly from the plowing field. Bram pointed out the Tall Man, the Seal Man, Little Marigold, the Fat Lady, and the rest. They’d all arrived by one means or another. Curpo and some of the roustabouts—unbeknownst to the new cir
cus owner—had loaded the calliope on a flatbed truck and drove it to the cemetery, parking it near the gravesite. It was the best way they knew how to say their goodbyes. When the last car neared the crest, Bram nudged Mo and headed for the cemetery.

Bram had asked if Modoc could be there. Katrina had called the new owner, but could not get permission from him for Mo’s attendance until Herr Gobel intervened and persuaded the American buyer. Katrina figured it was Gobel’s guilt at abandoning his circus family so abruptly that made him do it.

Bram and Gertie both dressed in black. Together they’d made a huge black ribbon for Modoc’s neck. A spray of wildflowers from the field was fixed to a twig of tamarind and hung down her forehead. Bram slid off and then helped Gertie down. Brushing off her dress, Gertie took her place by her father; Bram stood with his mother.

The calliope began to play its oom-pah-pah as the rabbi gave the sermon. Bram had never been to a funeral before, and found it hard to believe his father was lying in that long, shiny box. Bram knew that wherever his father was, he would look out for his family.

As Bram helped his mother place some flowers on the coffin, Mo, on a signal from Bram, reached up and took the flora off her forehead, stepped forward, and placed it on the coffin with the others.

The sun fell behind a cloud and did not reappear for the rest of the day. The weather turned cold, and shivering against a gray sky, they lowered Josef into the ground. Katrina’s soft sobs were joined by many others who mourned Josef’s passing. Bram could not cry. Instead a hard, tight ball of hurt filled his stomach, and his teeth and jaw hurt from clenching them unknowingly.

As the music of the calliope drifted over the hills, there came the lone trumpeting of an elephant who, in her own way, was saying goodbye to her friend in his final resting place, the little cemetery in the hills of Germany.

N
EWS ARRIVED FROM THE PORT
that
The Ghanjee
from India had docked and was being readied to receive its circus cargo. The day for boarding was getting closer. Bram heard that Mr. North was coming to the circus grounds before leaving on a boat that would precede the Indian ship to America. This would be his last chance to speak to the new circus owner.

It wasn’t long before the big black limo appeared. As he walked around, the owner seemed to be in a pleasant mood, greeting his employees, shaking hands with most of the people.

“Afternoon, Mr. North,” said Bram, determined to put his best foot forward.

“Good morning, young man. Aren’t you the son of the old elephant trainer who just passed away? Pity, but we all have to pay our dues someday.” Mr. North started to move on.

“Excuse me, sir, if I may.” Bram extended his hand as though
to stop Mr. North, but a quick look from North dropped that hand immediately.

“Yes? What is it?” North replied in a somewhat bothered tone.

“I would…like to go with you…I mean, Modoc…that is, the animals. To the United States.”

“How old are you, boy?” asked North.

“I’m just turning sixteen, sir, and am a bit mature for my age. My father showed me everything to do with Modoc…I mean, Jumbo, and, well…I could do it if you would give me a chance.”

Mr. North gave Bram a long, steady look. “No,” he replied, and started to walk away.

“But, sir, I…”

“No was my answer. Now excuse me.”

“But why?” Bram shouted after him, but Mr. North never turned his head around as he replied, “Let’s just say because you’re not one of us.”

Bram stood there, rooted to the spot. “What? What kind of reason is that?” he shouted after Mr. North.

“He’s prejudiced, son,” said a voice from behind. Bram turned to find a man standing behind him.

“What does that mean?” asked Bram.

“Prejudice means one kind of person doesn’t like another kind of person.”

“Even if they don’t know each other?” asked Bram.

“That’s right. They can dislike them for their color or religion or just for being from a different country.”

“You sound American,” Bram said.

“Yeah. I’m a transportation chief. In charge of hauling and loading the circus on and off the ship.”

“How come you’re telling me this?”

“Because only a few people are like that North fella, and I didn’t want you to think all American people feel the way he does.”

“That’s good. People shouldn’t be preju—prejudiced for no reason,” said Bram.

“My name’s Kelly, Kelly Hanson. What’s yours?”

“Bram Gunterstein,” the boy replied, shaking Kelly’s extended hand. “I’m Modoc’s trainer; she’s an elephant that performs here.”

“Well, I’d better be on my way,” said Kelly. “If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

“I was just thinking about Mr. North,” Bram continued. “You know, he’s in for a big surprise.

“Why’s that?” asked Kelly.

“Modoc’s Jewish.”

Bram turned around and headed down the green fairway just as the sun was beginning to set.

“Bram, you ’ere?” Curpo’s voice echoed in the near-empty barn. A few chickens and goats scattered as the door banged closed.

“Over here.” Bram sat where they used to chain Modoc. “Sure glad you came.”

“Ooh, this ol’ barn’s so cold and depressing,” said Curpo, looking around, rubbing his two small hands together to gather warmth. “Ya know, all the folks ’ave banded together, tryin’ to put up their own circus. I thought it was just wishful thinkin’ until a group of do-gooders, some wealthy people, chipped in some money. Now I ’ear they ’ave some kinda trust fund set up to ’elp support them.”

“That’s great news. I don’t know what would have happened, otherwise.” Bram paused, glancing down. “You know, Mama and I really appreciate your staying on at the farm, helping out.”

“I’ll stay as long as needed.”

“You’ve been a good friend, and the only person I can trust…so there’s something I have to tell you, and you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I’ve given it a lot of thought. It’s the only answer.”

Curpo had no difficulty reading Bram’s thoughts. “You want to sneak on board the ship when it leaves,” said Curpo. “You must be round the bend!”

Bram’s face became red and teary-eyed. He looked desperately into Curpo’s face, and the young man’s desperation spoke louder than words for Curpo’s approval.

“Papa asked me to take care of Mo. It was his last wish…and I love her. She could die without me.”

Curpo felt the boy’s pain and knew this was something he would do, regardless of Curpo’s approval. What Bram needed was the strength his support would give.

“Well, maybe it just might work,” Curpo replied, appeasing the boy. “Crazier things ’ave ’appened and worked out just fine. You just keep thinking it will, that’s the important thing.” Bram’s smile cheered Curpo; he cared for Bram very much and hated to see him upset. He spoke gently. “But…what about your mum? And, well, everybody? You can’t just leave. You ’ave responsibilities.”

“Curpo,” said Bram, getting more comfortable as he talked, “I heard Mama talking. Papa left an insurance policy that will more than take care of her.”

Curpo tugged on Bram’s shirt, bringing him down to his level, and looked Bram straight in the eye. “Then I’ll be wishing you a bon voyage the day you sail away from the dock.” He smiled. “And if the truth be told, I’d probably do the same, so let’s get on with it. We’ve got a lot of preparing to do.”

They embraced each other, savoring the emotion of the moment, each praying in his own way that things would turn out all right.

Bram didn’t sleep much that night. His thoughts drifted to what his mother would think of him for taking this bizarre step. How would his friends feel? Would they think he had run away from his responsibilities? Bram knew he had to leave a note, but would that be enough? It had to explain how he wanted to honor his father’s last wish.

“Take care of Modoc,” Josef’s words echoed; Bram felt his father’s presence. He felt the moisture on his cheeks and the power of his father’s last trembling hug. This was the only way.

As Bram stared out the window at the moon, it became clear to him. He was making a spiritual decision and would do as the animals do. They had no power of choice. They were guided by their instincts. He would do the same and not use his power of choice, but rather trust his instincts to guide him into the next phase of his
life. It was about a kind of knowing…feeling…listening to one’s inner self. Besides, how can honoring your dead father’s wishes, and being with one you care for be wrong? He would leave when the truck caravan pulled out of town.

“Did you hear the trucks are leaving tonight?” mentioned one of the roustabouts who had been particularly kind to Bram.

“What? I thought later in the week! What happened?”

“I don’t know, something about the tides.”

“What time tonight?”

“Three o’clock they’re pulling out.”

Bram went home that night so as not to raise any suspicion. He’d made an arrangement with Curpo to pick him up later in the night. Katrina had prepared Bram’s favorite supper, and it was the first evening since Josef’s death that they had eaten together in the family dining room.

“How are you feeling these days, Mama?”

“Fine, Bram, just fine.” Katrina paused. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. I just felt with Papa gone and all…I just wanted to be sure…you know what I mean.”

“I know, honey; your father was a very special man. I don’t feel you ever get over the death of someone you love, but he’s in a good place, and will be watching over us if we ever need him.”

“I really miss him, Mama. Every time I look at Modoc and know she’s going, I feel I’m letting him down. I feel so helpless, like there’s something I should be doing.”

Bram spoke over a forkful of apple pie. Katrina put down her coffee and looked intently into his eyes.

“You do what you have to.”

“But, Mama, I…”

Katrina got hastily to her feet, smoothing her apron. “Now, help me clear these dishes.”

He wrapped his arms around her, whispering, “I love you Mama, and I’ll never forget Papa.”

“I love you too, Bramie.” A glint of light reflected her tears.

It was the stroke of midnight, still three hours before the circus trucks were to depart. For the tenth time he read the note he was leaving.

He slipped the letter into an envelope and laid it carefully on the kitchen table where she would be sure to see it in the morning. One last quick glance around his room, a click of the door latch, and he was gone.

Curpo was waiting at the prearranged place. Sitting behind the wheel of the car was String. The front seat had been removed so that String could fold his eight-foot frame into the special homemade seat that would fit him. To anyone driving by, it would appear that String was driving from the backseat.

“Hi, guys. String, thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” replied String. “When Curpo told me what you were doing I wanted you to know I was behind you all the way.”

The ride to Gertie’s was made in silence. Bram thought of all he was leaving behind, and what the future might hold. About a
quarter of a mile before Gertie’s house, String stopped the car and turned off the headlights.

“Remember Bram, the caravan leaves at three
A.M.
”

“I know, Curpo. I’ll be back in time.”

The two men settled in to wait as Bram cut across the corn rows Gertie’s father had worked so hard to plant that season. He disappeared into the dark.

Gertie’s house sat in a small ravine, making her second-story window accessible from the ground below. By placing a small log, previously positioned against the wall, Bram climbed up and softly rapped on the window.

“Gertie, Gertie, it’s me—Bram,” he hissed against the glass windowpane. He waited, then knocked again. “Gertie?”

The window was misted from the heat inside her room; it was still cold outside at night. Through a myriad of colorful crystalline patterns on the frosted glass, Gertie appeared as a kaleidoscope of mystical shapes, gliding, wavering, approaching the window. Then she came into focus. She unlocked the catch, and with Bram lifting from the outside and she from within, the window rose.

Bram hurriedly climbed over the sill and closed the window quietly behind him. Gertie was sleepy-eyed, shivering in her thin nightgown from the night air, a look of concern on her face. This was his warm and tender Gertie.

“Bram, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Quickly unbuttoning his heavy coat, he embraced her shivering body, folding her in, wrapping the coat around the two of them. Pressing against him, she gathered his warmth, melting it with her own heat. Soon they were alive with each other. Their young, cautious desire ignited into romantic intimacy.

They lay for what seemed like a long time in each other’s arms. During this time, he told her of his plan, as gently as he could.

“…and I’d never be happy with myself, not for the rest of my life, if I didn’t try to honor my father’s wish…and you know how much I love Mo. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.”

“I know.” Gertie smiled tearfully. “Your mother told me I’d always have to share you with Modoc, the way she shared Josef with his elephants.” Quickly Gertie tried to wipe the tears from her pale eyes. “It’s not that I don’t understand. It’s just that it’s happening so quickly.”

“But it’s the best way, Gertie,” he insisted. Bram had his father’s watch, and he checked the time. Standing, he grasped Gertie’s hands and pulled her up to him. She was sobbing quietly. “I love you, Gertie,” he said, “and I know that it’ll be a long time before we see each other again, but I’ll write often, and…”

“Oh, Bram! I love you so much.” Gertie threw her arms around him. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever, knowing that someday we’ll be together.” A torrent of sorrow flooded Gertie’s heart as she resigned herself to his leaving.

They stood by the misted window. Gertie pulled his jacket collar up around his neck, tucking his wool scarf in a crisscross across his chest. Bram stood there like a boy being readied for school. He loved how she cared for him, and tried not to think of leaving her. He raised the window. Swirls of light snow began to blow through. They said goodbye with their arms, their eyes, their hearts. Then a kiss, and he was gone.

Closing the window, Gertie wiped a circle of visibility on the pane with her hand. She saw him sprinting down the valley as she pressed her weeping eyes against the frosted crochet. The freezing window glass cooled the tears on her cheeks.

String returned them to the circus grounds just in time to see the caravan of trucks slowly pulling out. Bram directed him to park in the shadows behind some broken kiosks. Huge floodlights washed over the hustle and bustle of the last-minute operation. People scurried everywhere, loading equipment, pushing heavy crates up the slide ramps into the trucks, while others scrambled onto the running boards or inside vehicles so as not to be left behind. Bram recognized his friend, the transportation chief, shouting orders through a handheld bullhorn. He waved and was acknowledged with a nod.

“That’s Kelly Hanson, the American I told you about. He’s helping me get on a truck, and eventually the ship, I hope. I had to promise that if I got caught, I wouldn’t reveal his name.” They sat in the car, observing the evacuation.