Pegasus: A Novel (9 page)

“I’m not,” he said quietly, and she looked at him in surprise.

“I thought you were only visiting, to show your horses somewhere.”

“I’m staying,” he said, not wanting to say why or tell her that he’d be showing his
horses as a circus act. He was embarrassed about the life he was about to lead, among
circus people, whom he could only imagine as freaks. And now he was one of them. He
hadn’t adjusted to it yet, and wondered if he ever would.

“Is there some reason why you’re not going back?” she asked, looking startled and
suspicious. She knew other people who had left the country in the past few years,
afraid of what was happening in Germany, and fearing for their lives. But she could
think of no reason why Nick would be one of them.

“Yes,” he said as he leaned against the rail in the moonlight. He didn’t want to lie
to her, and would have preferred not to explain it, but he could see that she wanted
an answer of some kind.

“Are you Jewish?” she asked him with a curious expression. She didn’t think it likely.
He was obviously a nobleman of high rank, as his name, looks, and title suggested.

“Yes, and no,” he said honestly. “In the real world, as we knew it until recently,
no, I wasn’t. In Hitler’s Germany, apparently I am. I never knew my mother. My parents
divorced when I was born, and my father and I discovered recently that she was half
Jewish, which
makes my sons and me Jewish according to the Nazis. We had to leave, we might have
been sent to a labor camp if we stayed, so we’re going to America.” She looked shocked
at what he said, and for a moment he wasn’t sure which part of the story had alarmed
her, the fact that he had barely escaped being sent to a labor camp, or that his mother
was Jewish.

“How horrible of them,” she said, suddenly sympathetic. “And how absurd. What will
you do?” She looked worried and sad for him and the boys, which confirmed to him that
she was a good person. And he laughed at her question.

“I didn’t have a lot of choices. I have no profession, nothing I know how to do. I
suppose I could have been a dance instructor”—he smiled at her—“or a chauffeur or
a stable boy. I can’t say that any of those options appealed to me, and I only had
a few weeks to figure it out. A friend gave me the horses I have with me. Two of them
are Lipizzaners, trained for exhibition. I’m joining the circus as an equestrian act,”
he said with a wry expression. “My six-year-old son is enchanted. I can’t say I feel
the same way about it, but I’m grateful that I could get them out of Germany and found
something I can do. So, my dear, you have been dancing your nights away with a circus
performer. I daresay your friends would be shocked, and so would mine.” Saying it
out loud to her made it both worse and better. Worse because it made a reality of
it, and better because it was so ridiculous even to him that it made it laughable
instead of something that made him want to cry. Not knowing what else to do, Monique
laughed.

“Are you serious?” She thought he might be teasing her. But from the look in his eyes,
she could see he wasn’t. It was the oddest story she’d ever heard. She had heard of
doctors and lawyers who had left Germany, all of them Jewish, but never aristocrats
like Nick.

“I’m entirely serious. When we land in New York, I am taking my sons and the horses
to Florida, where we were hired by the Greatest Show on Earth. They sponsored me to
get us out of Germany, and offered me the job, and I’m very grateful that they did.
So I’m afraid you’ve shown up a bit late in the day. A month ago I could have courted
you properly, and visited you when you go back. Now I’m going to be wintering in Florida
with freaks and clowns and circus acts, and touring with them nine or ten months a
year. I can send you postcards from all over the States.”

As he said it, she looked truly shocked this time, particularly at the look in his
eyes. He was clearly still grappling with the impact of what had happened to them.

“I can’t even imagine it,” she said honestly.

“Neither can I, but it’s better than a labor camp on the Czech border. Or having my
children die of malnourishment or some disease. We really had no choice.”

“You’re a brave man, Nick,” she said quietly, impressed by what he had said.

“No, I’m a man who was driven out of his homeland, by a lunatic who wants to purify
the master race and take over the world. And Jews are not welcome in it, or part of
his plan. And suddenly, by a quirk of fate, I have become one. It’s more than a little
humbling, to say the least. I slipped from the top to the bottom of the ladder, literally
overnight.”

“Do you think Hitler is really that bad?” she asked thoughtfully. From Nick’s perspective,
he certainly was, but it was still hard for her to believe that he was as dangerous
as Nick said. Thus far, nothing Hitler had done had affected her, except that her
favorite seamstress had moved away, and her doctor in Munich had been obliged
to close his practice. But other than that, she had suffered no ill effects. And her
doctor had been about to retire anyway.

“I actually think he’s considerably worse than we all realize,” Nick said with a bitter
tone about Hitler. “Now that I know what he’s up to firsthand, I think he will make
changes that will frighten and affect us all. The boys and I are certainly a good
example of that. And if my father were still married to my mother, he’d be a criminal
for being married to a Jew. That’s against the law now, for a Christian to be married
to a Jew. Luckily, he divorced her. He would never survive this, being uprooted and
having to leave everything he’s ever known, disappearing like a thief in the night.”

“Will he come to the States too?” she asked, curious about them now. He had become
a real person to her with his confessions, not just a handsome man in a superficial
way. Nick shook his head in answer to her question about his father.

“He’s staying to protect our land. Which, other than me and my children, is the only
thing he’s ever loved. He’s a man of duty, honor, and tradition. He stayed to run
our estate until I return. And God only knows when that will be. Probably not until
Hitler steps down, or someone runs him out of town, or shoots him, which sounds like
an excellent idea to me.” He could say that openly now, having escaped. “And even
if I can return to Germany safely later, I can no longer inherit my estate till the
laws about Jews are changed. My children and I can’t own property anymore.”

“Do you think there will be a war?” she asked Nick, looking slightly nervous.

“I don’t know. They say not, but all signs seem to point to it, to me. His rallies
sound like calls to arms. I don’t think he’ll stop until he takes over all of Europe.
Germany will never be enough. Taking
over Austria was only the beginning.” He was convinced of that now.

“He is ambitious,” Monique agreed, “and there seem to be soldiers everywhere these
days. There were an incredible number the last time I went to Munich. And most of
them seem to be SS, the elite corps.”

“I’ve noticed it too,” Nick agreed with her. “I managed to keep Tobias out of the
Hitler Jugend, because he had asthma as a child and we have a sympathetic doctor.
I didn’t want him parading around in a uniform, parroting the party line. And now
instead, he’s going to be in the circus, playing with the clowns. It’s a hell of a
choice.”

“I’m sure they’ll let you come back eventually, probably very soon,” she said to encourage
him. But Nick wasn’t sure of that at all.

“I’m not convinced. And, my dear, until then, I’m afraid that the person I will become
when we get to Florida isn’t even suitable for you to know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded him, and then lowered her voice conspiratorially.
“I was a manicurist when I met my husband. He married me and changed my life. It wasn’t
the circus, but I wasn’t born into the lofty world you were. I only got there because
of Klaus. And he got very upset whenever anyone said anything about it. He hired a
teacher to show me how to speak and act like a lady.” It was an amazing confession
that Nick found fascinating and endearing in its honesty. And when he thought about
it, only the way she danced gave her away. It was a little too intimate, a little
too flirtatious and outrageous for a lady of rank, and she did the tango in a way
no respectable woman would dare. But he didn’t care. She was a nice woman, and he
liked talking to her. And what did it matter now?

“If they ever throw you out of Germany,” he said wryly—trying to make light of the
fact he had been, which still smarted to his very
core. He was far more aristocratic than any of the idiots he knew in the Third Reich—“we
could form a dance team, or you could join me in the circus. But I don’t think they’ll
be sending you away, as long as you’re not Jewish.”

“I’m not,” she confirmed, “but neither are you, in any real way.”

“That’s not what they believe, or exactly correct. I’m part of the race they want
to stamp out. According to them, it’s a race of criminals and half-breeds.”

“Will I ever see you again?” she asked sadly, and he looked at her for a long moment
before he answered.

“Probably not,” he said quietly. “I don’t see how. You’ll have a nice visit with your
sister and her baby, when it’s born. And you’ll go back to Germany, to the life you
know, that your husband gave you. And I’ll be here, in the circus. Not ‘at’ the circus,
in
it, just like the clowns.”

“Don’t say that,” she scolded him with a catch in her voice. She felt so sorry for
him.

“Why not? It’s true. And I’d better get used to it quickly. That’s not a life you
want, Monique.” She didn’t deny it because what he said was correct. “We can write
to each other. But for now, that’s the best I can do.” She realized now that the reason
he had held back till then, even from kissing her to any great extent, was because
of everything he had just explained, not because of her. He had been so distant with
her at first, except on the dance floor, and now she knew why. He had been nothing
but a gentleman with her, out of respect and kindness. He didn’t want to pull her
into his mess, or the life he was about to lead. He didn’t even want her to see it,
and he knew she never would. She would go back to Germany in a month and lead the
life she had, since marrying her husband. A life that Nick would never live again.
He had been born into it, and she
hadn’t. But she had been allowed to stay and he was a refugee now. The irony and unfairness
of that did not elude either of them.

Nick liked Monique, and the fact that she was straightforward with him. And she liked
him for being truthful as well. He hadn’t tried to cover up what was happening to
him, and he was bitter about it, but not with her. He was as lovely as she had thought
at first. Even better now. He wasn’t just a handsome, dashing aristocrat, he was a
real human being. And she was sorry to hear everything that was happening to him.
She felt now as though she’d made a friend. He kissed her again then, but there was
no passion to it. She was a pretty woman, but suddenly their lives were too different.
As a circus performer, he didn’t feel very dashing. He felt anything but, as he kissed
her on the cheek, chastely this time, and then walked back to his own cabin. It was
hard to imagine what his life would be like now, but surely like nothing he had ever
known. And he wasn’t anxious to find out.

He lay awake in his bed for a long time that night, and finally he put a coat on over
his pajamas, and went outside to stand at the rail. It was nearly daybreak by then,
and the sun came up slowly as they steamed into New York Harbor. The rest of the passengers
were asleep, and he watched as they slid by the Statue of Liberty. The tugboats had
come to lead them in, and at seven o’clock in a bright morning sun, they pulled into
the dock. They had arrived. And whether he felt ready for it or not, their new life
had begun.

Nick made sure that the horses were all safely tethered, and Toby helped him clean
out their stalls before they disembarked. Lucas gave them all water, as his father
had shown him how to do, and oats in their feed bags. Nick commented that the three
of them had become able stable boys during the long trip. And he watched closely,
once he was dressed, as the crane lowered the boxcar carefully onto the dock.

From the pier on the Hudson River, the boxcar would be taken to the station, and their
trip to Sarasota would begin. Nick barely had time to find Monique to say goodbye,
before he left to join the boys in the car he had hired to take them to the station.
He found her as her endless stack of steamer and cabin trunks was being removed by
cabin boys and porters. She was wearing a heavy fur coat, and a spectacular hat with
a veil, and white kid gloves.

“You look very beautiful,” he said, smiling at her. “Thank you for our lovely evenings.
I haven’t danced that much in years.” And he realized that, mostly thanks to her,
the respite from reality on the
boat had done him good. It was his final farewell to a life he had been forced to
give up, and he had enjoyed spending time with her.

“Take care of yourself,” she said, looking longingly at him, wishing things were different,
but they weren’t. “Write to me sometime.”

“I will,” he promised, but neither of them was sure they would, and he thought it
unlikely. What could he possibly have to say that would interest her now, in her safe
world in her husband’s schloss in the Tyrol, once she returned from Boston? In a strange
way, she had inherited the life he had been born to, and he had lost it. They were
ships passing in the night. He kissed her gently on the cheek through her veil, smiled,
and then was gone, as she stood watching from the rail as he got into the car with
his boys. Lucas was hanging out the window, looking up at the ship they had just left,
and a flatbed truck was carrying the boxcar with the horses. Nick had stolen a minute
to thank Beauregard Thompson for his kindness and support during Pluto’s experience
of nearly dying. They shook hands, and the horseman from Kentucky wished him luck.