in the living room.
"How about massaging my neck?" Michael asked Julie. She took her place behind him, her small-breasted figure silhouetted against the moonlit porch column. Stephen resolutely turned his eyes away. It would not do to have sexual thoughts about Julie. Or perhaps he could have them but not act on them. He wasn't sure how this was going to play out, but he couldn't do anything that would compromise the troupe's chance at success.
"Stephen, do you think I could try getting up on the wire sometime?" This question was from Sam.
It was good to have this interruption. "If your parents don't mind."
"Paul said it was okay. Mom has her doubts, but I can make her see it my way."
"Sam, you won't be able to go on the wire during the day when the others are practicing because you'll be at work," Julie pointed out. "And you can't go up on the wire when no one is around. It wouldn't be safe."
"My job at the orchard will be over as soon as the peaches are harvested. That'll be about the first week in July."
Julie sighed in exasperation. It was bad enough to have to go on the high wire because you were an Andrassy. But Sam was Claire's son by her first marriage, and he had no need to uphold family tradition. The way Julie saw it, his leaning toward wire walking should under no circumstances be encouraged.
Michael set down his glass. "Thanks, Julie. I'd better go. It's time to read my kids their bedtime story." He stood, stretched, and hurried off in the direction of the mobile home.
"Guess I'll go see what's on TV," Sam said. He disappeared inside the house. This left Stephen and Julie facing each other from opposite corners of the porch, squared off like boxing opponents.
"So," Julie said bitterly when she was sure Sam couldn't hear. "You're recruiting a new generation to the wire."
Stephen brought the lemonade to his lips with a light tinkle of ice cubes against glass. She watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed a long draft. She inhaled a deep breath and tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach.
"Sam asked about it. Of course, I will talk with Claire and Paul and find out if they object." Casually he set the glass down on a low table.
Julie walked to the end of the porch. Here the shadows were dense; the bright moonlight couldn't penetrate the thick ropes of wisteria climbing the porch columns. She cupped her elbows in the palms of her hands and shivered.
"You are not cold, are you, Juliana?" Stephen's rich voice was close behind her.
She shook her head.
"What is wrong then?"
At first she wasn't going to tell him. But then she thought, why not? He'd barged into her life and turned it inside out. He'd evoked emotions that she had not felt in years; he'd called up unhappy memories that were best left alone. Why should he not know the pain he caused? Why should he be allowed to think that he was as wonderful as all the other Andrassys told him he was?
Resentment, already deeply rooted, grew and blossomed into bitter words.
" You are what is wrong, Stephen."
"Juliana. How I wish that you would understand." His melodious voice was a smooth counterpoint to the jagged emotions in her heart.
"They're losing their fear," she said helplessly. "It was the only thing that kept them off the wire."
"So? It is good that they lose it. They cannot walk the wire in fear."
"Eva, for instance. For years she wouldn't even go into an elevator, do you know that? Well, she got over it. But to get her on the high wire! How did you do it, Stephen? What did you say, what did you promise?"
"Eva decided for herself. The others did, also. You know that." He wanted to touch her, to alleviate her abject misery. But now he was afraid. Afraid that Julie would not find it in her heart to forgive him for what he knew to be right.
"Do you know how I feel, Stephen, when I know you're all practicing on the high wire? Do you think I want to lose the rest of my family, too?" The words tore out of her, ripping at her
"How about massaging my neck?" Michael asked Julie. She took her place behind him, her small-breasted figure silhouetted against the moonlit porch column. Stephen resolutely turned his eyes away. It would not do to have sexual thoughts about Julie. Or perhaps he could have them but not act on them. He wasn't sure how this was going to play out, but he couldn't do anything that would compromise the troupe's chance at success.
"Stephen, do you think I could try getting up on the wire sometime?" This question was from Sam.
It was good to have this interruption. "If your parents don't mind."
"Paul said it was okay. Mom has her doubts, but I can make her see it my way."
"Sam, you won't be able to go on the wire during the day when the others are practicing because you'll be at work," Julie pointed out. "And you can't go up on the wire when no one is around. It wouldn't be safe."
"My job at the orchard will be over as soon as the peaches are harvested. That'll be about the first week in July."
Julie sighed in exasperation. It was bad enough to have to go on the high wire because you were an Andrassy. But Sam was Claire's son by her first marriage, and he had no need to uphold family tradition. The way Julie saw it, his leaning toward wire walking should under no circumstances be encouraged.
Michael set down his glass. "Thanks, Julie. I'd better go. It's time to read my kids their bedtime story." He stood, stretched, and hurried off in the direction of the mobile home.
"Guess I'll go see what's on TV," Sam said. He disappeared inside the house. This left Stephen and Julie facing each other from opposite corners of the porch, squared off like boxing opponents.
"So," Julie said bitterly when she was sure Sam couldn't hear. "You're recruiting a new generation to the wire."
Stephen brought the lemonade to his lips with a light tinkle of ice cubes against glass. She watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed a long draft. She inhaled a deep breath and tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach.
"Sam asked about it. Of course, I will talk with Claire and Paul and find out if they object." Casually he set the glass down on a low table.
Julie walked to the end of the porch. Here the shadows were dense; the bright moonlight couldn't penetrate the thick ropes of wisteria climbing the porch columns. She cupped her elbows in the palms of her hands and shivered.
"You are not cold, are you, Juliana?" Stephen's rich voice was close behind her.
She shook her head.
"What is wrong then?"
At first she wasn't going to tell him. But then she thought, why not? He'd barged into her life and turned it inside out. He'd evoked emotions that she had not felt in years; he'd called up unhappy memories that were best left alone. Why should he not know the pain he caused? Why should he be allowed to think that he was as wonderful as all the other Andrassys told him he was?
Resentment, already deeply rooted, grew and blossomed into bitter words.
" You are what is wrong, Stephen."
"Juliana. How I wish that you would understand." His melodious voice was a smooth counterpoint to the jagged emotions in her heart.
"They're losing their fear," she said helplessly. "It was the only thing that kept them off the wire."
"So? It is good that they lose it. They cannot walk the wire in fear."
"Eva, for instance. For years she wouldn't even go into an elevator, do you know that? Well, she got over it. But to get her on the high wire! How did you do it, Stephen? What did you say, what did you promise?"
"Eva decided for herself. The others did, also. You know that." He wanted to touch her, to alleviate her abject misery. But now he was afraid. Afraid that Julie would not find it in her heart to forgive him for what he knew to be right.
"Do you know how I feel, Stephen, when I know you're all practicing on the high wire? Do you think I want to lose the rest of my family, too?" The words tore out of her, ripping at her
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