Made in the U.S.A. (30 page)

When Ray directed the beam of his light on an extraordinary tombstone, he said, “Your uncle Pasqual. My brother.” The granite image of a powerful man snapping a whip above his head watched warily as a tiger jumped through a hoop that appeared to be in flame. “Cat man for more than forty years.”

The next grave was marked with the headstone of a costumed woman riding in the curve of an elephant’s trunk. “My sister, Fabiola. Killed at nineteen when one of the elephants slipped, broke a leg, and fell on her.”

Atop another marker was the ringmaster, a figure of a life-size man dressed in a tuxedo, tipping his hat, and bowing to an invisible audience. “Here, my older brother, Ricardo. Ringmaster in Mexico and every state in America.”

Farther along the row, Ray stopped, made the sign of the cross, then focused his light on a remarkable stone, the statue of a man in leotards balanced on a high wire stretched between two platforms. “Papa. My papa,” Ray said, then wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

Juan followed his father in silence from row to row as Ray pointed out the graves of more cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews, along with friends of many decades, all cast in the roles they had performed: clowns, riggers, jugglers, bareback ballerinas, acrobats, carpenters, cooks, flying trapeze performers—two killed in a midair collision—tumblers, painters, rough riders, concessionaires, stock managers, animal trainers, and, finally, a brightly colored popcorn wagon, empty now. Beneath its wheels were words carved in granite: “The tent has folded. The show has moved on.”

Ray switched off his flashlight as the eastern sky was turning with the hues of blue, violet, and pink, introducing with a golden glow the sun of a new day.

“You’ve seen this place before, I know, but it meant little to you then.”

“Papa, I was seventeen when I left.”

“Oh, yes. I remember. You were a boy, too young, I suppose, to understand what this means. Too young to see that we aren’t just a family. We are a tribe. A tribe of people who love the thrill of facing wild animals, who find joy in walking a wire suspended far above the earth, who love the freedom of swinging through the air. For us and for them who rest around us now, the circus is in our bones. It is and has been our life.

“Not the kind of life that comes from shooting piss in your arms or stuffing powder up your nose or drinking poison from the gutter that is your bed, a fire that drives you to crawl through the garbage of other people’s lives.”

“I no do drugs, I no drink alcohol. I no do those things for years.”

“Then where have you been?” Ray asked with surprise. “Why have you not returned to us?”

“Papa . . .”

“You have family here. Family who loves you, wants you to be with us all the way. Even to this place.” Ray waved his hand across the cemetery, the graves lit now by the first brilliant shafts of sunlight. “Then we will be with you. We will be always together. But until you can do that, you’re lost to us.”

Ray stared at his son for a moment, then turned and started back to his truck.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

M
AMA SIM, ALWAYS
the first one up, was shocked when she walked into the kitchen before six and found Lutie making coffee.

“People won’t believe me when I tell them I found Martha Stewart fixing breakfast in my kitchen.”

“Not funny,” Lutie said.

Mama Sim dampened a sponge and wiped coffee grounds spilled on the cabinet and the floor. “Have you ever made coffee before?”

“No.”

“I smell coffee,” Raynoldo said as he ambled into the kitchen with the early morning stretches and yawns. “And I want some right now.”

Lutie filled a cup and handed it to him, the coffee thick with grounds.

“My name’s Raynoldo, but I answer to Ray, too,” he said. “And you are . . .”

“Lutie McFee.”

“The one under the bed last night. You’re Fate’s sister, huh?”

“He was supposed to be named Fale, after our grandpa, but someone made a mistake on his birth certificate and crossed the
l
.”

“Yeah, that’s the way it goes. If we’re not able to make our own mistakes the minute we come into this world, we don’t have to wait long. Someone will come along and make them for us.”

“Seems that way,” Lutie said.

“Looks like someone beat the hell out of you.”

Without giving it thought, Lutie absently touched her bandaged face.

“You been out to the winter quarters yet?” Ray asked Lutie.

“Ray, this is the first day the girl’s been up since she got here.”

“Hell, Mama, I’m not going to put her on the back of a wild stallion. I was just gonna ask her if she’d like to ride over there and have a look.”

“Yeah, I would,” Lutie said.

“Then let’s eat and get out of here before Mama thinks of a dozen chores she needs done.”

Just then, the front door opened and Juan walked in.

“You’re up early,” Mama said.

Juan glanced at his father. “Went to take care of that torn fence back of the monkey cage.”

“Dub feeling okay?”

“I didn’t see him. I was gone before he got up.”

“We’re going out to the quarters pretty soon,” Mama said. “Wanna go back with us, show Lutie around?”

“Well . . .” Juan shot another glance at his father but couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking. “I was gonna—”

“Can I go, too?” Fate asked, standing in the doorway, already dressed.

Lutie and Mama Sim rode to the winter quarters with Juan in his Lincoln, which Mama observed was “the size of a hearse,” while Raynoldo and Fate walked. Ray said he’d driven so far and for so long, his butt cheeks had grown together. “Here I am,” he said, “a man looking seventy in the eyes, and I put so many miles on my behind, I don’t even have a crack anymore. Now, what’s old Harve down at the mortuary gonna think about that when he pulls off my britches to hose me down before he sticks me in the ground? Probably tell everyone in town that I didn’t have no butt crack. Harve can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Fate liked Raynoldo from the minute he walked in. He was funny and he didn’t even have to work at it. He just liked to make people laugh. Fate had expected a grumpy, gruff old man who scowled all the time, a man who had little to say beyond a complaint. But he wasn’t like that at all.

When Ray and Fate reached Dub’s trailer, he was sitting on the porch, trying to work a burr out of Draco’s tail.

“Draco told me you were coming, she just didn’t know you’d be so slow. Good to sleep in your own bed again, Ray?”

“The best, Dub. The best.”

When Katy and Johnny came out of the trailer, Fate was faced with the moment he’d dreaded: Johnny’s first meeting with Lutie since Fate had seen her picture in the sex magazine in the tree house. But when Johnny clearly didn’t recognize her, Fate sighed with relief.

“Hi,” Johnny said after the introduction, then he flew off the porch, grabbed Fate, and the two of them took off . . . running, leaping, laughing about nothing more than the joy of being together.

“Ray, it’s good to see you,” Katy said. “How did it go? Good season?”

“More rain than we needed, but nobody got hurt, the animals stayed healthy. But we missed you all. It just all runs smoother when Dub’s in charge.”

“Still a sweet-talking man. That might get you a hot banana muffin.” She came down the steps and gave Ray a hug as Juan pulled up with Lutie and Mama Sim. “How you doing, Mama?” Katy asked.

“Katy, this is Lutie, Fate’s sister.”

“So I finally get to meet Lutie. You all come in and I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee. Got some muffins ’bout to come out of the oven, too.”

“Thanks, Katy. But we’re just gonna show Lutie around some, then get her back home before she tires out. This is her first day out of the house.”

“Now hold on, Mama. I’m not against waiting for a muffin,” Ray said.

“Your brother told me you’d been in an accident, Lutie.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, don’t overdo yourself today. Better to get too much rest than not enough. I’d best go check on those muffins. You all change your minds, come on back. I’ve made enough to feed the whole circus. By the way, when will they be back?”

“Be a few more days,” Raynoldo said. “I just needed a break. Got close enough to Hugo to drive home for a day, now I’ll go back and round them up and bring them back.”

As soon as Katy went back inside her trailer, Juan loaded up his passengers, which now included his father. But just before he pulled away, Dub stopped him, leaned against the driver’s door. “Say, Juan. I think Big Foot’s been messing around here again.”

“No kidding? You see him?”

“No, but I saw his tracks.”

“Where?”

“Out behind the monkey’s pen. And you’ll never believe this, but that son of a gun fixed some torn fencing back there.”

“I’ll be damned. You be careful, Dub. Stay alert. No telling what Big Foot’ll be into next.”

Dub slapped Juan on the shoulder and grinned. “Thanks, partner.”

As Juan drove, Ray pointed out the welding shop and the elephant grounds, where Lymon, the groundskeeper, waved as he was hosing down Greta and her baby.

“That big building’s where we keep the props,” Ray said. “See, the circus has a different theme each year, so the props and costumes pile up. And there’s the cat house. We have a lion and her two cubs in there now. That building is the paint and repair shop. Busiest place on the grounds during the winter when we’re putting next year’s show together.”

“Anyplace you’d like to stop and look around, Lutie?” Juan asked.

“Not really.”

“Let’s take her to see the horses,” Mama said.

“You like horses, Lutie?” Ray asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been around a real one.”

“Well, here’s your chance,” Ray said as Juan parked outside a barn. “Come on.”

Lutie was glad she’d worn the ugly rain boots Mama had found for her; otherwise she’d have sunk to her knees in mud getting from the car into the barn.

As a brown-and-white horse came trotting toward them, Lutie backed away from the fence. “I didn’t know they got so big.”

“Lutie, this is Sarah. She’s about to have a baby,” Ray said.

“Can we watch?”

“Might can if we know in time. Here.” Ray filled Lutie’s hand with chunks of apple he took from his pocket. “Feed her one of these. Just hold it in your palm.”

“Will she bite me?”

“Naw. She’ll love you.”

Lutie inched her way toward the fence and held out a piece of apple for Sarah, but when the horse lowered her head to take it, Lutie jumped back.

“Sorry,” she said. “She scared me.”

“Try again.”

This time, Lutie was determined. When Sarah took the apple from her hand, the girl giggled. “It tickles.”

She fed her all the apple, one piece at a time, then she imitated Mama and rubbed Sarah’s muzzle.

“Hey, Lutie. Come out here,” Fate called. He was driving one of the clown’s police cars. “Get in. I’ll take you for a ride.”

“No. It’s all muddy.”

“Okay, but you’d like it, I promise.”

Then Johnny pulled up beside him, driving the fire engine. He said, “Let’s go.”

After the boys took off, Ray said, “You wanna get on her, Lutie?”

“Ray, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mama Sim said. “She hasn’t been out of bed for . . .”

But Ray was already putting a bridle on the horse. When he opened the gate for Lutie and followed her in, he lifted her onto the back of the horse, took the reins, and led them around the ring. Lutie looked stiff and scared at first, but once she caught on to the rhythm of Sarah’s gait, she was fine.

Katy came in behind them, so they didn’t see her until she spoke. “Looks like they get along.”

“Yeah. I think they do.”

“Here’s your muffin, Ray.”

“What a sweetheart.”

“Okay, Lutie, that’s probably enough for one day. After all, she’s gonna be a mama before you know it,” Mama said.

“You don’t think I hurt her, do you?”

“Why, how would you hurt her?”

“My weight. I mean, my weight might be too much for her right now.”

“Yeah. All hundred pounds of you.”

“So what do you all practice in there?” Lutie asked as she pointed to one of the largest structures on the grounds. A sign over the door said, RING BARN.

Ray said, “Come on. I’ll show you.”

Mama Sim, Lutie, and Juan followed Ray into a space that looked like a huge auditorium, except there were no bleachers. The floor was hardwood, resembling a basketball court.

“We have to take our shoes off in here so we won’t scratch the floor.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, for one thing, the acrobatic troupes work out their routines here, so the floor has to be absolutely level and clean. A tiny chunk of gravel tracked in could cause an accident.

“The plate swingers can’t take their eyes off the other performers, their bamboo, or their plates. If they had to look down, even for a split second to make sure of their footing, good chance we’d have thousands of pieces of china sailing through the air.

“Same with the perch pole—three guys depending on each other and a perfectly clean floor.”

But Lutie’s attention had already moved on through the wires, cables, pulleys, cords, and cages, where she imagined costumed men and women sailing through the air as they twisted, turned, spun . . . their fingertips so carefully timed and trained to find a slender pole that would not wait, other fingers that could not wait to be joined with them.

“What’s that?” Lutie asked. She pointed to balance beams of varying heights, starting with two feet off the floor to one that looked to be fifty feet high.

“The wire walkers start when they’re young, working out on the beams closest to the floor,” Ray said. “Then, when they’ve managed that, they move up to the next, and so on.

“Now, the walkers work up there,” he continued, “most with a net to save them if they fall. But some, the really great walkers, work without a net. Finally, all they have between their feet is that narrow piece of wire and fifty feet of air over a polished floor.”

“That’s what Juan did. Best wire man I ever saw. Best in the whole world until . . .” Mama Sim left “until” hanging in the silence that followed.