Touch the Stars (24 page)

"It's beautiful."

"Remember, I told you that my destiny was to touch the stars. In asking you to share my life, I am asking you to touch the stars, too."

"I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think." She lifted her wide, dark eyes to his.

"I think we'd better get out of this water. So I won't get cold feet," Stephen said, and they smiled at his joke as Stephen climbed on the nearest rock and pulled Julie after him. She instinctively reached for the little gold star; she had a feeling that she was going to be reaching for it often in the next few months.

"What is that sticking out of your back pocket?" Stephen asked curiously.

"Oh, my gosh—it's the mail!" Julie withdrew several soggy envelopes, and Stephen grinned.

"I hope they are nothing important."

"A circular from the Lion and Lamb Grocery, something addressed to 'Box Holder,' and a postcard for Nonna." Julie spread the waterlogged mail to dry on a rock that was more sunny than most.

They ate greedily, their hands meeting as often as possible, and their lips touching, too, from time to time. Their voices were murmurs; they said things that no one else would understand, and the light in their eyes flared and sparked and danced in willing intimacy.

When it was time for them to go, Julie gathered the dry mail and Stephen folded the tablecloth. They spared one last glance for their quiet glade.

"I will always remember this spot," Stephen said fondly. "Perhaps one day we will return here with our children and show them the place where you and I first became friends."

"Maybe," Julie hedged as her fingers sought the star on the chain around her neck, but she didn't know yet. She just didn't know.

* * *

There were no sad goodbyes. Between Julie and Stephen there was only a gentle leave-taking the night before. Neither of them wanted to remember the other in sadness. They had both known too much of that in their lives already.

"You have much to think about, Juliana, while we are apart. I will be thinking of you, too, every day. When can I expect an answer, my dearest? When will you tell me if you will marry me?"

"At Christmas," Julie said, because they were all going to gather in Venice for the winter holidays. "I will let you know then."

Stephen knew not to push. He didn't want to disturb the fragile peace she had made with herself. He would wait for her with longing, but he
would
wait for her, and he hoped that when they met again, their meeting would be a true celebration.

Back in Venice, Julie plunged into work at the gym. Molly, her pupil with the broken leg, was still ailing. Worse, she seemed to have lost interest in gymnastics.

"See my pictures?" Molly said on the day when Julie stopped by her house to visit her. "I've taken up painting. I'm pretty good, too."

"We were at our wit's end to keep Molly occupied," Molly's mother said from the doorway of her room. "Finally, I bought her some acrylic paints, and she plunged right in."

"Your work is very good," Julie said, turning slowly so that she could take them all in. Paintings graced the walls and were propped on Molly's dresser. Some occupied the chair, and more were strung along the baseboards.

"Molly's always been a talented artist," her mother explained.

"I never had time to paint before. Guess what, Julie, I'm entering my work in the city recreation department's show. I might even win a prize!"

Molly was proud of her paintings, and Julie was happy for her. Still, it was with a feeling of foreboding that she left Molly's house. Her student hadn't mentioned gymnastics once during her whole visit, and her mother confided that Molly had a boyfriend.

At the gym Julie found herself at loose ends without Molly to coach. Working there simply wasn't fun. Her boss assigned her to a preschool class, but Julie found teaching four-year-olds how to do proper somersaults less than inspiring.

Life at home was difficult, too. Nonna had grown used to having Sam and Eric and Mickey and Tonia around. She missed them, and she expected Julie to spend more time with her to fill the lonely hours.

Julie often came home at night to find Nonna playing the local rock station at full blast on the radio. The first thing Julie did upon entering the house was turn the volume down. Nonna always turned it up again.

"I got used to it being loud when Sam and Eric played their music," Nonna explained.

Reasoning that Nonna might be hard of hearing, Julie went into her room and shut the door, which made Nonna irritable.

"Claire and I used to sit and crochet together," Nonna said petulantly when Julie emerged later. "Maybe I could teach you to crochet. Would you like to learn?"

But Julie crocheted like a person with six thumbs, and she finally gave it up. Before she had the good sense to throw in the crochet hook, Julie thought she'd go mad with the utter perverseness little loops of yarn and with the bone-shaking volume of Nonna's music as they worked. Julie would have spent more time at the gym, but there was nothing to keep her there.

Claire's name crept into the conversation at odd times. It was, "Claire used to heat the butter and the milk together when she mashed the potatoes, not throw it all in at once like you do," or "Claire used to watch the
Today
show with me every morning." Julie bore such gibes with outward fortitude, but inwardly she despaired. She was doing the best she could for Nonna, and it wasn't enough anymore.

Julie missed Stephen: his blue eyes, sparkling at her in the morning before the troupe set out across the meadow to practice; his feather-light touch at the back of her neck; his interest in everything about her. After living in the same house with Stephen for so long, Julie kept expecting him to round a corner or to burst laughing through the front door. At such times, the gold star between her breasts hung like a dead weight, reminding her of nothing so much as Stephen's absence. At night she wrapped her arms around herself in her loneliness, trying to relive every precious moment they'd spent together.

Stephen texted her many times a day. She texted back. They talked on the phone often. He never pressured her about marriage but confined his conversation to general topics. He told her how practice was going, and he relayed the funny things Mickey and Tonia said. He reported on Claire's efforts to redecorate the living room. Stephen was her link to the family she loved.

Before they hung up, Stephen would always say, "I love you, my Juliana," and she would reply with a heartfelt, "I love you, too." Yet nothing was resolved.

Julie went for long walks in the neighborhood after dark, pondering the inevitable question,
What kind of life would we have together?

Stephen was undoubtedly good husband material. He had proven himself to be kind, caring and considerate. He was good with children. He could provide well for her. He liked her family and, in fact, considered himself a member of it.

But he walked the wire.

What good would it do to have a kind, caring, considerate, loving husband who loved their children and provided for all of them if he could fall from the wire at any time and die? It was a harsh question to ask herself. But it had to be asked.

She asked it over and over and over again.

Paul called Nonna one evening, and Nonna responded with more animation than Julie had seen her display since they left the farm.

"Mickey lost a front tooth? And Eric has a girlfriend? What is her name?"

This went on for half an hour before Nonna handed the telephone to Julie and wandered pensively to her bedroom, looking as though she'd lost her best friend.

"Paul?"

"Julie! How's my favorite cousin?"

"Fair to middling," Julie said.

"That's not good enough. Say, what's happened to you and Nonna? You both sound a little down."

"I've had bad news, Paul. My gymnast, the one who was Olympic material, has decided to give up gymnastics."

"Bummer. What happened?"

"She's become more interested in art and boys, not necessarily in that order. Without Molly, I'm going to be very bored."

"That's a shame."

"I know." Julie sighed.

"Julie, how's Nonna?"

Julie glanced to see if Nonna's bedroom door was closed. It was.

"She seems sad since we got back from the farm. It's lonely in the house with me gone all day."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. There's no reason for you to feel that you have to be the only one to take care of Nonna, Julie. You need to make a life for yourself, and Claire and I want to help. We enjoyed having Nonna here this summer—she was great company for Claire. And Claire's an R.N., so she can manage Nonna's medication and doctor appointments. If she wants to, Nonna can come and live with us."

"Live
with you?"

"Sure. We have lots of room, and once the performing troupe leaves, it's going to be much too quiet around this big house."

"Have you spoken to Nonna about this?"

"I wanted to check with you first to make sure I wouldn't be stepping on your toes."

"Why no, I—"

"And another thing, Julie. If Nonna were with us, it would leave you free to marry Stephen. It's an open secret within the family that you love each other."

"There are other considerations, Paul," Julie said, feeling faintly embarrassed, though she didn't know why.

"Yeah, but the guy's crazy about you. You're crazy about him. Nothing else is as important as those two facts."

"I'd live in fear for him," Julie said faintly.

"You managed all right at Tallulah Gorge. After that, everything's got to be easy. Hey, listen, kid. Did your big cousin Paul ever give you bad advice?"

Julie smiled into the phone. "Once you told me no one would ever know if we ate two big packages of Mallomars cookies. And they found out because I was sick to my stomach all night."

Paul laughed heartily. Then he became serious.

"Mallomars aside, I'm giving you good advice now. Marry Stephen, Julie. Go for it!"

Julie sighed. "I'm still thinking about it, Paul. Do you want to talk to Nonna now? To invite her to come and live with you?"

"Claire wants to ask her herself. Put Nonna on, and I'll go get Claire."

"Come live with you at the farm?" Nonna said when Claire extended her invitation. Nonna's eyes sparkled.

Julie stood in the background, fidgeting. She was beginning to have no doubt that Nonna would say yes to Claire's invitation and that her grandmother would thrive at the farm.

"Guess what," Nonna said excitedly after she had hung up. "Paul and Claire want me to come live with them, and I'm going!"

"That's wonderful," Julie said, beginning to feel depressed. She had devoted her life to her grandmother for so long that she was beginning to feel as though someone had suddenly pulled a rug out from under her. She'd never lived alone before.

Nonna sensed Julie's darkening mood.

"You don't mind, do you, Julie, if I live with them for a while? Maybe I could just stay with them for six months or so. You can come to visit. It will be fun."

But Julie knew that Nonna would settle into Paul and Claire's household with little effort, just as she had before. And Nonna was lonely living with Julie; that was obvious.

"I'll miss you very much, but I know you like having a family around you." And because Julie didn't trust herself to say more, she gave Nonna a quick hug and fled to the backyard, where she adjusted and readjusted the hummingbird feeder and tried to fathom what repercussions Nonna's leaving would have on her life.

Without Nonna to care for, Julie would be free to do exactly what she wanted for the first time in her adult life.

The thought was liberating. It was also frightening.

* * *

On the night before the Amazing Andrassys' return performance at the New Orleans Superdome, Julie lay in bed, despairing of ever falling asleep. She was resigned to the troupe's resuming the act, but her agonized soul-searching about Stephen threatened to take over every minute of her life, giving her no peace. True, she had until Christmas to make up her mind, and it was only mid-September. But how could she live with this painful indecision for another three months?

She heard a floorboard squeak in Nonna's room, and she glanced at the red numerals of her bedside clock. It was after two in the morning. Nonna should be asleep at this hour. Alarmed, Julie slipped out of bed.

The door to Nonna's room sat slightly ajar, and Julie tiptoed across the hall.

"Nonna?"

Nonna, sitting up in bed, peered over her spectacles with a small smile.

"Come in, Julie. You are awake so late."

"I—I couldn't sleep. What's wrong, Nonna? You're not feeling sick, I hope?"

Nonna shook her head, and her long gray hair, the color of steel wool, rustled against the pillow case. "I don't seem to need as much sleep as I used to, that's all. When I can't sleep, I get out my photo album. It is full of so many happy things to remember."

Julie looked down and saw that Nonna had opened her album to a page with pictures of Grandfather Anton. She sat down on the bed next to Nonna, sharing the funnel of light from the lamp.