The Gypsy's Curse
Page 10
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” said Adam.
“Mr. Fletcher,” she said with a curt nod. “A lot of nerve you’ve got knockin on our door!”
Adam was taken aback by her non-greeting.
“Ma’am, I saw the note on the door at the shop. Is your husband in?”
“He is indeed,” she said, “but he’s not havin visitors right now, least of all the likes of you!”
Adam wrinkled his brow. “Ma’am? I’m afraid I don’t understand. Is everything alright?”
He wondered if she was taking it particularly hard that part of their order had not been delivered due to the damage.
“Hardly. Me husband took a tumble yesterday and broke his arm, no thanks to that cursed shipment you delivered. Dr. Taylor has set the bone, but now he has to let it rest for several days before he can return to work.”
“Actually, I wanted to apologize that the delivery was lacking some of what y’all were expecting, but I’m sure your husband told you about our damaged cargo. Turns out, though, that I did find some items that should have gotten to him yesterday, but they were mixed up in another delivery.” Adam held out a burlap sack to show her what they were. “Would you like to take this? Or would you prefer I bring this back when the shop is open again?”
“I don’t want a thing from your shipment,” she said. “I think we’ve had about enough bad luck from one batch of merchandise.”
“Bad luck?”
“He was puttin your delivery from yesterday away when he had his fall.” She looked at Adam sternly. “You know, that fortune-teller warned me about something just like this the other day. Simon hadn’t wanted me to go out there to see that gypsy woman, but now I’m glad I did. She warned me that we would receive something dangerous from afar.”
He thought for a second but was unsure of how to respond to that. All he could think about was how much that sounded like one of the warnings the gypsy woman had given him.
He finally said, “I’d be happy to help you put these things where they belong in your shop if you’d like to tell me where they go.”
She twisted up her face in disgust at him. “No! And if anything, we’ll probably have you come and take away what you already brung by yesterday.”
And at that she slammed the door.
ADAM WENT STRAIGHT FROM THE Moores’ residence to the tavern. Martin had said he’d meet him there for supper and a pint before he went to visit a “lady” friend. Adam doubted that she was much of a lady and felt certain Martin’s relationship with her went beyond friendly. He never asked for details, though. He only hoped, along with Martin’s cousins Laney and Will, that the wild man would eventually tire of sowing wild oats and that he would finally find a wife and settle down.
Instead of taking his favorite seat at the bar, Adam grabbed a table near a window—a rare thing at the Topsail, especially on a balmy night in late September. Within moments of sitting down, Martin entered the tavern. Adam gave him a wave, and Martin came over and took a seat.
“Everett Bell’s sick. Bad sick,” said Martin without even saying hello.
“What?” asked Adam. “When did you find this out?”
Just then Jackson came by the table and got their orders. They’d each have cider. Adam would have fried shrimp, Martin, raw oysters, and they’d both have fried potatoes and corn bread.
“Popped in this afternoon,” said Martin. “I was hoping to see his daughter. She’s a pretty little thing, you know. Porcelain complexion, shiny black hair, eyes like sapphires.” He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Mm, mm, mm! And she’ll be seventeen the first of the year.”
Adam raised his left eyebrow. “She’s only sixteen? Isn’t that a little young? Even for you?”
“Maybe it is now,” said Martin, “but I’m layin a foundation. Who knows? Maybe by the time she’s a year or two older I’ll be ready to settle down. It might not be bad to settle down next to her.”
That came as a surprise to Adam. Just as he thought about Martin’s caddish behavior concerning women, he remembered the first thing that Martin had said when he sat down.
“You said Everett Bell is sick. How sick?”
“He’s sick like the crew was—real sick. Whatever it is, it came on him last night.”
“Oh no. You think he caught it from us? Maybe the crew or the merchandise?”
Martin shrugged. “No idea. And I’m sure not going to ask him or anyone in his household if he thinks that could be it.”
Adam nodded. “Definitely not. But on a related subject, I found out yesterday that the cat’s out of the bag about the sick crew and the cargo, so it may just be a matter of time before he hears about it and wonders himself.”
Martin blew out his cheeks and sighed. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“Wait, that’s not all,” said Adam. “We have another customer who’s worse off after receiving our merchandise.”
“Simon Moore?”
Adam nodded. “Yep. I went by his shop this afternoon. It was closed, so I dropped by the house. His wife said he’d broken his arm and—”
“He’s broken his arm?”
“And she said she blames it on our ‘cursed merchandise,’ or something like that. Said she saw that gypsy fortune-teller and she’d predicted something like this would happen.”
Martin leaned back in his chair and threw up his hands. “Good God! What else can possibly go wrong?”
“Don’t ask that question,” said Adam. “Nothing good ever comes from asking a question like that.”
The two of them continued chatting about their customers, the crew, and the shipments and all of the strange things that had been happening.
Jackson brought out their drinks. Supper would be out shortly.
“What about Madame Endora?” said Martin in a low whisper. “I wasn’t gon’ say it, but what if you made her so hoppin mad that she’s causin all these things to happen.”
“Are you wondering whether or not her curse is real?” asked Adam. He shook his head and looked across the dining area.
“I think there could be somethin to it, but of course I already told you that,” said Martin.
“Yeah, I know, but you’re just as superstitious as my mama.” Adam took a sip of his cider.
“Fine. We’re superstitious. Superstitions didn’t just come from nowhere, you know? They come about for a reason.”
“What? To make people look like fools, throwing salt over their shoulders, or turning around in a circle so many times, or a girl walking backwards in a garden at midnight and picking a cabbage so she can see her future husband over her shoulder? It’s nonsense. The only bad luck about breaking a mirror is that you’ve got to go out now and buy a new mirror.”
“You’re a skeptic,” said Martin. “That’s fine. You’re the one that got the bad fortune. Not me.”
Adam shook his head and sighed. There were some puzzling coincidences between the gypsy’s warnings and things that had come to pass, but Adam didn’t think it was due to any special talents or luck on the part of the old woman.
He said to Martin, “You know, Emmanuel says that sometimes people like Madame Endora are able to do what they do because they communicate with demons.”
Martin laughed out loud. “Demons? Are you serious?!”
Adam gave a nod. “Yes, I’m serious. Are you telling me you’re skeptical now?”
Martin didn’t answer.
Adam continued, “I don’t know… Maybe that seems crazy to you, but it sure makes a lot more sense to me than thinking some gypsy woman just magically can make accurate predictions that she pulled out of thin air.”
Martin shrugged. “I guess. Certainly changes things, though, don’t it? I mean, you start talkin about demons, you got a whole different level of problems.”
“My grandfather warned me about going to see that gypsy. He told me nothing good would come of it.” Adam shook his head in frustration.
“Not yet anyway,” said Adam. “Still, I’m going to be honest with you—that woman told me some things that I went back and wrote down that night just so I wouldn’t forget, like that thing she said about the town facing terrible trials. I’ve got to admit, I’ve looked back at them a few times and I can’t help but think she was a little too accurate in her predictions for there not to be something to it.”
Jackson came to the table and delivered their supper—a plate piled high with fried shrimp and potatoes for Adam, and a big platter full of raw half-shell oysters and another smaller plate with fried potatoes for Martin, and a basket full of fried corn bread for the two of them. Adam said a quick blessing and they began to eat.
“What kinds of things got you thinkin that way?” Martin asked before slurping down an oyster.
Adam grimaced as he observed Martin suck down the slimy shellfish.
“Don’t make that face,” said Martin. “They’ll make you more virile. You’ll appreciate that one day.”
Adam rolled his eyes. Martin laughed.
“You know,” said Adam, “one of the warnings, or signs, from Madame Endora was that something dangerous would come to me from afar. At first, I actually wondered if she could somehow be referring to that letter I got last winter, but then I found out that Simon Moore’s wife was given the same warning. I reckon she might’ve told that to a lot of folks. I wonder what that means.” He popped a shrimp in his mouth.
“Maybe she did, but it don’t mean the warning ain’t true. Could be that the danger is what came to port on the Gypsy,” Martin suggested.
Adam didn’t want to admit it, but that did seem like a possibility.
The two of them took a break from talking for a few minutes while they gobbled down their supper.
Adam had his mind on his dream from the night before. He decided he’d mention it to Martin just to see what he’d say. After describing it to his friend in detail, Adam said, “It was the strangest dream I’ve ever had. And I think there’s a warning in there. Madame Endora said to avoid the girl in the violet dress. Her daughter Stela was in the dream, wearing a violet dress, and then she kissed her horse’s forehead and disappeared right into her horse. The horse galloped away, and I followed it and it led me to my father’s ship, which was sailing across the sky. I could see my father there, but he’s dead. Did she send me that dream somehow? And what does it even mean? Is it some sort of death omen?”
Martin’s eyes grew large. “Sounds like you’re in trouble, boy. I can’t even make a bit of sense out of that. You don’t think maybe you just dreamed of her because, well, she’s lovely, and you put her in a violet dress because that’s what her mama had warned you about?”
Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He used his fork to stab a shrimp and ate it, then picked up a piece of potato and popped it into his mouth. He stared out the window and watched the fishermen out on the docks. “Then again, maybe it was just my own mind playing tricks on me. Did I tell you a bird flew out of my room last night?”
“A bird?” Martin said. “That’s bad luck. You know they say—”
“I know what they say,” Adam interrupted. “That’s what I mean. Maybe all of that just got to me and ended up making me have that dream.”
Martin’s mouth was full of corn bread, but it didn’t stop him from offering a suggestion.
“You know what I’d do?”
“What?” asked Adam with sigh of skepticism.
“I’d just go right on over to that camp and ask that old gypsy woman. Can’t hurt, right? Maybe she don’t even have nothin to do with that dream.”
“Eh… I don’t think so,” said Adam. “My mother already bought me some amulet, and she actually paid that woman to do some kind of protection spell.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You know, I don’t even want to see her.”
“Fine,” said Martin. “Talk to her daughter. She seemed nice enough. In fact, come with me. I’m seein her later myself.”
Adam nearly choked on his food. “You’re what?!”
“I went out to Town Creek yesterday. Saw Miss Stela and visited with her a little bit. She’s a real sweet girl. Said some other families were going to be joinin them there and that there would be a lot of music and dancin tonight. She invited me to come back as her guest.”
“Tell me something—is there any woman you won’t say yes to?”
“Well, if she’s old or unattractive…” Martin took another bite of corn bread and looked like he was thinking about it. “Or poxy.” He nodded his head and gave Adam a wink—a reminder of the scary episode he’d faced the previous year. “Then I reckon I’d have to turn her down. But a pretty girl like Miss Stela? Why wouldn’t I want to spend a little bit of time with her?”
Just then Jackson came over to their table to see if they needed anything. When they said no, he said, “I wanted to mention, y’all ought to plan to come out here tomorrow evening around six.”
“Why? What’s happening?” asked Adam.
“Town meeting.”
“What’s it about?”
Jackson shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly, but it has somethin to do with those gypsies and that curse the old woman has put on the town.”
Adam rolled his eyes and shook his head. “See? Everybody in this town seems like they’re losing their minds.”
“You should still come,” said Jackson.
Adam nodded. “Alright. I’ll try to be here.” He turned to Martin. “You coming?”
Martin sighed. “Hmm… I reckon I’ll try to be there.”
“Mention it to anybody you think might like to come,” said Jackson. “You know how this works.”
Adam nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
The fact was that the Topsail Tavern frequently had town meetings. It was a convenient and easy place to get a lot of folks together to talk about issues, and having food and drinks on hand made it more appealing than meeting in, say, a warehouse.
Adam was definitely surprised that the whole gypsy issue had gone so far that folks were wanting to have a meeting about them. He wondered what specific problem would be addressed there.
He would just have to wait and see.
Chapter Twelve
AFTER SUPPER, ADAM AND MARTIN went in Martin’s horse cart back to the gypsy camp on the north side of Town Creek. He didn’t really want to go, but now he felt like he should, especially since a town meeting had been called.
Once he got there, he wondered if what he saw might be the reason for the meeting. There were many more gypsies there now, and it appeared many of these new families came in boats. The atmosphere was a lot different than it had been the previous week. Tonight they weren’t there to entertain the locals; they were there to entertain themselves.
Young and old, men and women, and children of all ages were enjoying the lamplit festivities. At one of the campsites, which was set up near where a boat was pulled up on the shore, some men played a game of cards. Nearby, a stout, old gypsy woman sat on a small cask as a little girl stood between her knees. She was braiding the girl’s hair.
Adam’s heart pounded, but not in fear—in excitement. That music, he thought. I love everything about it. What is it about that music? There was a man singing in some language he couldn’t understand, but the intensity of his piercing tenor matched the quick, passionate tempo of the song. Adam noticed Stela’s younger sister was dancing again, but so were many other people. It was all spellbinding.
Was it wrong for Adam to be there? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Something about the whole atmosphere was magnetic. For a brief moment he felt like everything was going to be alright, like all of the strange things that were happening would melt away.
He noticed Martin shifting his body from side to side in rhythm to the mu
sic, dancing. Adam couldn’t blame him. He found his own head bobbing up and down to the beat. The anxieties that had consumed him earlier in the day had all but disappeared.
Soon Adam spotted Madame Endora’s tent, and Stela was set up at her potions booth just outside the entrance.
Martin led the way as the two of them walked over.
“Hello, lovely,” he said. He smoothly held out his hand to take hers so that he could plant a kiss on it. “I’m enchanted to see you again.”
It took all of Adam’s restraint to not roll his eyes.
Martin motioned to him and said, “Do you remember my friend Adam Fletcher?”
Stela smiled sweetly at Adam. “Of course. How could I forget?”
Her eyes seemed to linger on Adam a little longer than he expected, and it made for an uncomfortable moment.
Apparently Stela detected the tension of the situation, so she said to Martin, “Your friend looks very much like one of us, yes?”
Martin’s annoyed glance shifted from Stela to Adam, then back to Stela. “I reckon he does. I hadn’t thought about it. His father’s a Spaniard, you know.”
Stela nodded and smiled again at Adam. “I remember.”
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Stela said to no one in particular, “I wonder if more people from this town will come tonight.”
Adam said, “Who knows? Maybe. I didn’t know this was happening until Martin mentioned it. He asked me if I might like to come along.”
“I am glad you came,” said Stela.
Me too, thought Adam, though he wouldn’t say it out loud. He knew why he had come, but he suddenly didn’t care. He just wanted to soak in all the color and diversion that was happening around him.
The perfumed aroma around Stela’s booth was intoxicating. “Well, gentlemen, did either of you want to see Madame Endora again tonight?”
Adam was instantly snapped out of his stupor with Stela’s question. He made a face and shook his head. “No… No, I don’t think so.”
Stela looked crestfallen. “Oh, I am sorry your fortune was not as you hoped it would be.”