Made in the U.S.A. (29 page)
The bolt of lightning struck so near the tent that Fate felt the earth quiver with the force. And what had started as a sprinkle, then become a shower, now was coming down hard, like marbles hurled from the sky, the drops as big as quarters.
“Oh, my God,” Fate yelled as he fished around in the dark for his shoes and one of the flashlights.
“What’s going on?” Johnny asked, much slower to wake than Fate. “What’re you doing?”
“I can’t find my other shoe.” Fate had already wiggled out of his sleeping bag, located a flashlight and one shoe. When he swung the beam of the light toward the opening flaps of the tent, he spotted the mate and slipped it on without taking the time to tie the strings.
He was already scrambling out of the tent when Johnny sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Where are you going, Fate?”
“I’ve got to get to Mama Sim’s. Fast.”
“It’s pouring out there. Let’s just go in the house.”
“No. It’s my sister, Lutie.”
By now, the rain was pelting the tent so hard that some of Fate’s words were getting lost in the noise.
“She has tonitrophobia.”
“What? What does she have?”
But Fate was already on the run, too far away for Johnny to hear him even if he had replied.
Just then, Katy opened the front door and yelled, “You boys get in the house. Now!”
“I’m coming, Mom, but Fate’s gone.”
In the few seconds it took Johnny to race from the tent to the covered porch, he was soaked.
“What did you say? Where’s Fate?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. He’s gone.”
Fate was halfway across the winter grounds when a series of lightning strikes created a thunderous roar that seemed to go on and on. As soon as the thunder quieted, Fate screamed, “Lutie, I’m coming! I’m coming, just hold on!” knowing there was almost no chance she could hear him from that distance.
But one creature did.
When Draco heard Fate’s voice, she didn’t hesitate. She crawled from under Juan’s Lincoln, where she had taken refuge from the storm, ran to the door of Mama Sim’s house, and stood on her hind feet, scratching and barking for attention. When no one came to answer her call, she took off. She crossed the porch in one graceful stride, made a beautiful flying leap clearing all five steps, and went streaking across the yard, disappearing within seconds into the deluge.
Lutie, close to losing her battle with full-scale panic, was sitting on the floor by her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, pulling them to her chest. Her eyes were clamped shut as she rocked back and forth in the coal mine darkness of the bedroom, wailing like an animal in distress.
At the edge of hysteria, she was trying to focus on an old memory: a doctor; her dad; and herself at five or six, in a hospital emergency room.
She couldn’t remember all that had happened back then, the first time she’d had a seizure. But she did recall that her mother had already died, and for some reason, she was alone at home when a powerful storm struck—constant lightning and violent crashes of thunder that rattled the windowpanes.
Her father had found her convulsing in their living room, then rushed her to the hospital. The doctor who examined her had explained that tonitrophobia—fear of thunder—could, in extreme cases, cause seizures and, though extremely rare, could result in death.
He had encouraged Lutie to practice controlled deep breathing and told Jim McFee to make sure his girl wasn’t left alone during storms. She would need, he said, someone who could calm her, hold her close, make soothing sounds, all to reassure her that she was safe.
But now she
was
alone, she couldn’t control her breathing, she had no one to hold her, to soothe her with—
She began screaming again when a powerful crack of lightning struck so close by that the room blazed momentarily with light and the air exploded with a furious blast of thunder, which caused Lutie to fall back, prostrate on the floor, her body stiffened beside the bed.
Katy followed Johnny as they ran from the house to Dub’s small workshop behind the trailer.
As soon as the shop door opened, the wind blew them inside, where Dub was showing Juan his newest project: restoring a ’67 Mustang.
“Fate’s gone,” Katy said.
“Gone where?” Dub asked.
“He said he had to get to Mama Sim’s,” Johnny said. “Something about his sister.”
“Lutie? What is wrong?” Juan asked.
“I’m not sure. He said something about her having some kind of disease. It sounded like tonytorbia.”
“Fear of thunder,” Juan said. “Fate told me.”
As Juan raced toward the door, Dub yelled, “Catch!”
Juan turned in time to see a flashlight coming at him. After a left-handed catch, he was gone.
Mama Sim, moving as quickly as she could, fumbled her way out of the tub, then—knowing her path even in the darkness—reached the towel rack. She called to Lutie, “I’m on my way, darlin’,” as she made a few swipes with the towel, half drying herself before she pulled her cotton gown over her head.
Lutie had stopped screaming but was now making a whimpering sound, like a dog taking a beating.
Mama was making her way down the hall to Lutie’s room by letting her fingers trail the wall to tell where she was, when she accidentally knocked loose a framed photograph, which crashed on the floor.
The noise set Lutie to screaming again, but not for long. She soon resumed her whimpering sound.
“I’m here, Lutie. Standing here in your door. Where are you?”
Lutie couldn’t speak, couldn’t make herself find words, but continued whimpering, letting out an occasional sob.
Mama followed the sounds Lutie was making, got down on the floor, and gently pulled the girl with her under the bed, where she held her in her arms and started humming a wordless tune as she stroked her hair.
When Fate got into waist-high weeds, Draco disappeared. All but her tail. It stood up like a beacon for Fate to follow. “Atta girl, Draco,” Fate said. “We’re not far now. I recognize those boulders.”
Draco wagged her tail at the sound of Fate’s voice.
When at last they reached Mama Sim’s house, everything about it looked different in the night. He’d never seen her place after dark without the porch light burning and more light shining from inside through the shades.
He and the dog took the steps three at a time. Not surprised to find the front door unlocked, Fate went in, with Draco right behind him. Fate called Lutie’s name first, but when there was no answer, he was sure he heard singing coming from her bedroom, so that’s where he followed the beam of his flashlight, with Draco following.
“Mama Sim,” he called as he swung the beam of light around the room. “Lutie . . . ?”
“We’re here, Fate,” Mama said. “Under the bed.”
Fate bent and aimed the light beneath the bed, where he found Lutie wrapped in Mama Sim’s arms. Mama was humming a tune as she continued to stroke the girl’s hair.
Fate scooted around to the other side of the bed, then squeezed himself in beside Lutie. He held one of her hands while Mama Sim held the other and continued to hum the song she’d been singing. Fate started to speak but decided against it, as Lutie seemed to be calming down. Draco walked around the bed and found room to lie down at Fate’s back.
“I smell wet dog hair,” Mama said.
“Well, Draco is a little wet.”
Mama decided that this was not the right time to make any more of the smelly, muddy dog, so she went back to her humming.
Minutes later, they heard the front door open and then close, followed by the uneven gait that could only belong to Juan. He flashed Dub’s light around Lutie but didn’t see the crowd under the bed; he did, however, recognize Mama Sim’s humming.
“What the hell you all be doing under the bed?”
“Lutie feels safer here.”
“Okay. Yes. Okay.”
Juan settled in the rocker, its squeaking falling into the rhythm of Mama’s song.
The storm was moving away now, but it bowed out with one last, low rumble of thunder. Distant as it was, however, the sound brought a short, shrill scream from Lutie and a rather sad-sounding whine from Draco. But with Mama Sim holding her on one side and Fate on the other, the girl quieted quickly.
Juan hadn’t been in Lutie’s room long when Essie came in from next door. She carried an umbrella the wind had turned inside out and wore curlers in her hair.
“Hey! Where are you, Mama?”
“In here. Under Lutie’s bed.”
“Now, why wouldn’t I have guessed that?”
As Essie walked into the room, the electricity was restored. “See,” she said, “I bring the light.” Five seconds later, the lights went out again.
“Oh, turn the lights back on, sister,” Juan said. “You got the power.”
“Shut up, Juan.” While they were in the kind of argument they’d enjoyed since they were kids, someone else entered the darkened house.
“Mama? You here?”
As much as Juan hated the timing, the lights came on as his father, Raynoldo, walked into the bedroom. But he didn’t ask why so many were huddled together under the bed; he didn’t ask about Draco, who got up and came around to smell this intruder; he didn’t even call to his mother again.
Raynoldo couldn’t speak, couldn’t take his eyes from the man sitting in the rocker. Juan, his son, was home.
J
UAN AND HIS
father stayed in the kitchen, each finding ways to avoid conversation as one by one the others left the room.
Mama ran Draco out of the house but didn’t bother with a mop to clean up the mud the dog, the boy, Juan, Essie, and Ray had tracked in. Instead, she went to bed and pulled the covers over her ears. She’d wanted to stay, wanted to overhear what was being said in the kitchen, but she knew Juan and Ray wouldn’t talk until they were alone. If they talked at all. She took her rosary from the nightstand, then fell asleep while she was praying.
Essie went home, explaining she’d come over to check on Mama Sim when the electricity went out. A quick peck on her daddy’s cheek and she was gone.
After the storm moved on, Fate made sure Lutie was okay, then helped her into bed.
“Guess Juan didn’t plan on this,” he said.
“Plan on what?” Lutie asked.
“I told you. Juan wanted to be out of here before his papa came home. They had a blowup fifteen years ago when Juan left home, so I can’t imagine what kind of homecoming this is going to be.”
“So we’re not going to get out of here until Juan’s settled up with Ray? That sucks so big-time.”
“I don’t know, Lutie. Maybe Juan will leave tomorrow, maybe he’ll stay a few more days.”
“Well, when he goes, we’re going with him. Right?”
Fate’s response of “Probably” left more doubts than Lutie liked, but he turned off the light and left the room before she had time to nail him down to something more positive.
Since Lutie’s room was nearest the kitchen, she might have been able to hear the exchange coming from next door. But after her night of terror, she collapsed into sleep, missing the entire late night conversation between Juan and his father.
Both father and son endured an uncomfortable silence as they sat at the kitchen table watching their coffee cool. Finally, Ray asked, “What are you doing here?”
“The boy and his sister were in trouble. Didn’t know where else to take them. She was hurt. I knowing Mama Sim would help her.”
“They yours? Your kids?”
“No. Just two kids. Lost. Try getting through hard times. We be leaving soon.”
“Never figured you came to stay.” Ray pulled a pouch of tobacco from one pocket and his pipe from another. “I’m going to the porch. Have a smoke.”
“Where you coming in from?” Juan asked as he followed Ray outside.
“Lawton.”
“Not like you to leave the show on the road.”
“Nope.”
“Then . . .”
“Heard you were here.”
“How you hearing that?”
“Cat trainer in another circus has a buddy in ours. Word travels.”
“Or Mama Sim calling you with the news I’m here.”
Ray shrugged.
“So you knowing I’m here. But why you came? Try to talking me back into family?”
“You were never
not
in this family.” Raynoldo sounded very powerful now that he was at the edge of anger. “Never! You can’t cut the ties of family just because you run away.”
The sound of a pickup in need of a new muffler pulled them away from their conversation. Seconds later, Dub drove up, parked, and came to the porch.
“Everything okay over here?” he asked.
“Yeah. She asleep,” Juan said.
“Well, Ray, didn’t see you there.” They shook hands. “This is a surprise.”
“Thought I’d take a break.”
“Have a good season?” Dub asked.
“Not bad. But we sure miss you.”
“You miss me? Let me tell you the most exciting thing that’s happened here since you’ve been gone. Johnny built a tree house where he keeps his girlie books, and Katy stepped on a copperhead. Both survived.”
“Have a chair, Dub.”
“Naw, I better get back. Katy was worried sick about Lutie, and if I don’t come back soon, she’ll imagine the worst.”
As Dub climbed back into the truck, he said, “You all come out tomorrow. I’ve got some fencing to do in the morning, but it won’t take me more than a couple of hours.”
“Will Katy make that chocolate cake?” Ray asked.
“It’s already waiting for you.” As he drove off he called, “Take it easy.”
“He’s one in a million,” Ray said. “One in a million.” He tapped the burned tobacco off the end of the porch, then said without a glance at Juan, “Come on. We’re goin’ for a ride.”
“Where to?”
By the time Ray drove his pickup across the cattle guard at the entrance to the cemetery, the rain had let up and the clouds had cleared. The moon cast a dim illumination across the graves.
Neither of the men had spoken since they’d left Mama Sim’s porch, nor did they have anything to say after Ray parked and they started across the cemetery grounds.
Ray led the way with his flashlight, being careful to avoid stepping on graves as they entered a section apart from the others: Showman’s Rest—the last stop for those who had traveled the long and winding route of the circus world.