Yawning, I stood up to go, and that's when I found out the real reason why Fanny had returned to the Willies to live. "I see Waysie every once in a while," she unexpectedly threw into our conversation. "He said he'd be more than appreciative iffen I'd let him come fer visits once a week or so. An' he's gonna bring my lit Darcy t'see me. I've already seen her twice. An' she's so pretty. Of course sooner or later everybody in Winnerrow will find out jus' what's goin on . . . an' that's when have my revenge. Ole lady Wise is gonna cry through many a night, many a night."
Not for the-first time I felt an overwhelming dislike for Fanny flood through me. She didn't want Waysie. She didn't really want Darcy. She just wanted revenge. I felt like slapping some sense into her. But Fanny was so drunk she fell when she lost her balance, and when I strode out of her house, she was screaming that she'd get even with me for all I'd done to rob her of self-esteem. And there she was at age twenty, once married and once divorced, hating me because no man had ever loved her enough . . . not even her own pa.
I guess Fanny and I had that in common.
Caught in some deep compulsion, the very next night I went again to the circus, this time dressed in the filmy white dress I had cleaned and ironed so carefully. This time I went alone, without Grandpa and Fanny. Once more I sat amidst the hot, sweaty crowd that had come to see their "hometown hero"-- Luke Casteel, the new owner, the mesmerizing barker. Only tonight was a bit different. This time Pa's pretty young wife Stacie was there, nervously wringing her hands when Pa strode into the arena, spieling out his long introductory speech without hesitation or flaw. So why was she nervous? He was a magnificent and powerful man, radiating sensuality. All about me the women and girls stood up to cheer and yell, and some threw flowers and scarves. I saw my brother Tom, who had aspired to becoming president, reduced to a frolicking clown all because Pa had to have what he wanted, despite what Tom wanted.
I thought of Our Jane and Keith and Fanny, who had been made into what she was as surely as I'd been molded by fate into what I was. And the words of the good Reverend Wayland Wise came flooding back into my brain: "You carry with you the seeds for your . own destruction, and the destruction of everyone who loves you . . . an idealist of the most fatal kind--the romantic idealist . . born to destroy and self-destruct!"
As my own mother had!
Doomed, I felt doomed. Just as Troy had felt.
Over and over again the good Reverend's words played in my brain, until I felt my planned confrontation with Pa was stupid and wrong and would only end up hurting me. Quickly I stood and blindly made my way out of the stands. It didn't matter that people yelled at me to sit down and stop blocking their view. I had to get away. It didn't matter that the lions were running in the center ring cage, quite out of control. Pa stood ready with pistol and rifle just outside the cage door that he had unlocked, while inside the cage the lion tamer tried to bring control to cats that weren't paying him any attention. "It's the new lion confusing all of them!" some man yelled. "Tear down the banners! It's the fluttering that makes the new one nervous."
I should never have come back to the Willies.
I should have let well enough alone. I paused about ten feet from the cage, wanting to say goodbye to Tom, who was hovering just behind Pa, before I headed back to the cabin where Grandpa was snuggled down with his ghost wife.
"Tom," I called softly, trying to draw his attention.
Tom, in his baggy clown costume and greasepaint makeup, ran closer to snatch at my arms and hiss, "Don't say anything to Pa, please, please! He's taking the guard's place for the first time tonight cause he showed up drunk. Please, Heaven, don't distract Pa."
But I didn't have to say anything. Or do anything.
Pa had seen me.
Me, with the lights overhead shining down on my silvery blond hair, wearing the very dress my mother had worn the first time he'd seen her standing on Peachtree Street--the expensive and frail old white dress with full, fluttery sleeves and skirt. The dress that I had carefully washed and ironed, and lightly starched. The prettiest dress in my summer wardrobe. And I had to wear it . . . tonight for the first time. Pa was staring at me, frozen, his dark eyes wide. Step by step he was advancing toward me, away from the lion cage and the tamer who needed his attention.
Something happened then that took me by total surprise. Into Pa's stunned and astonished eyes jumped a shot of pure exhilarated, disbelieving joy. My heart raced in painful response. As I stood there undecided as to what to do, I felt the full, long, white sleeves of my summer dress fluttering upward, caught in some errant evening breeze that blew through the tent opening.
At last, at last, Pa was glad to see me! It was in his eyes! At last he was going to say he loved me. "Angel!" he cried.
He stepped toward me, arms outstretched; his rifle slipped from his fingers, and the pistol he'd pulled from its sheath fell silently into the sawdust.
Her!
It was still my mother he was seeing!
As it would always be her he saw, never me, never me!
I turned and ran.
Breathless and crying, I paused just outside the main arena. Behind me the tumult began. The screams! The roars! The cries of people gone crazy! Trained animals gone wild! Now I was frozen. I heard the shots and half turned. My hands fluttered to my forehead and pressed there.
"What's happened?" I asked two men running out of the tent.
"The cats have the tamer down on his back and are mauling him. Casteel's attention was averted and they were safe enough t'make their move. Then that stupid clown with the red hair picks up the rifle, pockets the pistol, and enters the cage himself."
Oh, my God, Tom, Tom!
The frantic man shoved me out of the way and ran on.
Someone else picked up the story. "All those crazy cats piled up on the lion tamer, and Luke's son ran braver than any man I ever knew, straight into the cage, trying to save his friend's life. Then Luke saw what was happening and he went in to save his son. God knows if anyone will come out of this alive!"
Oh, my God--my fault, my fault!
I didn't care about Pa, of course I didn't. Pa deserved anything he got.