“You are right, Oma. We should not be kissing.”
Her frown faded and she shook her head. “Nein. You should be more careful when you kiss.” Cackling, she covered her mouth with a weathered hand.
The afternoon train arrived, and before long visitors were strolling into the store. Soon after publication of my story, I’d discontinued my talks about the history of our settlement. I’d learned that my brief speech opened the door to unkind comments from those who had read the magazine and chose to believe the cartoons rather than the story. Now I simply directed them to the woolens and calicos and remained quiet while they wandered the aisles.
As expected, Stefan had been eager to return to the Gypsy camp. He’d asked several questions, but when I explained the matter was of a secret nature, his questions ceased. I couldn’t be sure if it was because a clandestine meeting excited him, or because I promised to fully explain at some time in the future. Either way, I was thankful for his swift agreement.
When he’d completed the task, he’d been delighted to report his success. Now that I was on my way to meet Lalah, my emotions were a mixture of fear and dread. I wanted the girl to tell me Oma had returned Zurca’s scarf weeks ago, yet I didn’t want the Gypsies involved, either. Zurca had saved Oma’s life, and the Gypsies hadn’t been in the village since Loyco’s departure. Although some of the surrounding farmers continued to mention the loss of chickens and produce, there had been no reports of thievery in Homestead.
Fear prickled my scalp as I stepped off the path and into the woods. There was nothing to fear, yet my nerves were taut and perspiration beaded my forehead. My breathing turned shallow as I scanned the area and strained for the sound of footsteps. Where was she?
A branch crackled to my right, and a hand clapped over my mouth. I strained to turn, but a muscular arm grasped me around the waist. A scream caught in my throat as my back slammed against a chest as rigid as a stone wall. “Do not scream and I will take my hand from your mouth.”
After grunting a muffled yes, he slowly released his hand but continued to hold me tight against his chest. When I didn’t scream or attempt to wrest myself away from him, my captor loosened his hold, and I turned to face him. “Zurca!”
CHAPTER 26
My emotions swirled as my stomach clenched and released like bellows at the forge. I took a backward step and steadied myself against one of the giant pines, the pungent bark scraping my cotton blouse. I had expected to meet Lalah. Instead, I now was face-to-face with Zurca. He stood before me, legs spread wide, arms akimbo, eyes dark and warning. Gone were any signs of warmth or friendship. He was in command.
“Do not try to run. You cannot outrun me, and you cannot overpower me. If you try to escape before I say you can go, you could be injured. I don’t want that to happen, but it will be your choice.”
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I struggled to swallow. “I won’t run,” I croaked.
He pointed to the ground. “Sit. We will talk. Who knows you have come here?” Zurca dropped to his knees in front of me and stared into my eyes.
What should I say? Should I tell him my father and Conrad knew my whereabouts and would soon come looking for me? I had planned to tell Conrad, but he hadn’t been in the barbershop when I’d left. How I wished I had waited for him.
“You have taken too long with your answer, which tells me that no one knows you are here. It is better if you do not lie to me.”
I bowed my head to avoid his militant stare. “I came to meet Lalah, not you. I didn’t expect any danger.”
Using the tips of his fingers, Zurca raised my chin and forced me to look at him. “What you expect is not always what you get, is it? Over and over my people have learned this lesson. Maybe you should learn it, as well.” He released my chin and leaned back on his haunches. “Tell me why you seek Loyco’s daughter.”
“I wanted to speak with her about the fire at the sawmill.”
“You think Lalah set that fire?” His dark brows lowered to a menacing angle.
“No, of course not.” I summoned all the courage I could muster and reached into my pocket. “I wanted to ask her about this.”
He rocked back on his heels. “That is my scarf. The one—”
“The one you used when you saved my grandmother. I know.” I hesitated a moment. “This scarf was discovered at the fire.”
“I still do not understand why you want to question Lalah.”
“I wanted to ask if my grandmother had returned to your camp since the day you pulled her from the river.”
Recognition flashed in his eyes. “I see. You want to say your grandmother returned the scarf to me so that you can blame the fire on me instead of your grandmother.” Strands of greasy hair had escaped a colorful tie at the nape of his neck and fallen forward to curtain his face. He shoved an oily lock behind one ear. “You would do this after I saved her life? I am surprised.”
A breeze whispered through the grove and slapped the strings of my bonnet against my neck. “No. I wasn’t going to blame you. I was seeking the truth.”
“Seeking the truth—or hoping to protect your grandmother?” His steely eyes demanded an immediate response.
“Both. It wasn’t my intent to cast blame on you, Zurca, but there is already talk that members of your group may have been involved in the fire.”
“So what is their plan? To hang us?” He slapped his muscular leg and guffawed. “Let them try.” He leaned closer, the odor of his body sour. “Just remember, Alija will be happy to place a hex on your town. I need only say the word.”
“We do not believe in your hexes, Zurca. My people have no plan to do anything to you or to anyone else. The only thing we plan to do is rebuild the sawmill.”
“Still, you should have said to them, ‘Zurca is a good man. He saved my grandmother from the river. He would not set fire to our sawmill.’ Eh? Why did you not say those things when they accuse me?”
I tapped my finger on my bonnet. “Because I don’t want them to know about Oma being out of her head. It would not be gut if they knew about the river.”
His brow furrowed. “Why not? Alija says your grandmother has special powers.”
How could I explain that my grandmother’s going in and out of bouts of senility was not considered a special power; that it was, instead, a tragic consequence of growing old. Not for all of the aged but for some, and my grandmother was one of the unfortunate.
“Among the gypsies, her condition may be considered a special power, but among my people, it is cause for concern. I don’t want my Vater to send her to Mount Pleasant.”
Zurca’s posture relaxed, and his features softened. “What is this Mount Pleasant?”
“It is like a hospital for people who aren’t quite right in their mind. I don’t know how to explain it to you.”
“The old woman should not be in such a place. She needs to be with you—with her family. It is the right thing for her to stay with family.” He jumped to his feet. “You can tell them Zurca started the fire if it will help to keep her at home. I don’t care what any of them think. They can believe whatever they want.”
“If I let them believe a lie, it will follow you and make life more difficult in the future. It isn’t right.”
He stooped in front of me. “Protect the old woman. It is your duty.”
I wanted to thank him and run back to the store, but guilt nudged me like a hot poker. This wasn’t fair; it wasn’t right. “I can’t. It isn’t fair.”
“Ha! You think life is fair? Far from it. But believe me when I say that even if you clear the Gypsies of any wrongdoing, it will change nothing. People will continue to believe what they want.” He joined his fingers together and formed a ball. “They lump us together and say we are all black-hearted thieves.” He laughed. “Some of us are, but we are as different as the people in your village. Some of us are good; some not so good. But all of us are trying to make our way much like we did in the old country.” He pointed towa
rd town. “Just like your people. We don’t want to be told how we should live. Instead of building a town, we travel in our wagons so we can live the way we want.”
A branch cracked behind a clump of bushes, and Zurca leaped from his stooped position like a cat springing for prey. A highpitched squeal followed.
“Zurca! Put me down.” Lalah kicked her feet and flailed her arms until Zurca set her on the ground.
“What are you doing out here? I told you to stay in the camp.” His gruff voice didn’t alarm her.
She twisted her dress back into place and frowned. “You ripped my dress.” She pointed to a ripped seam on the side of the frock. “Look at what you’ve done.”
“Look at what you’ve done.” Zurca waved a finger in her face. “I told you to stay in the camp. Little girls who don’t follow orders end up with torn dresses.”
“And Gypsy men who don’t follow Loyco’s orders get in big trouble.” She shot him a defiant look. “Loyco told you to look after me while he was gone. Instead, you spend your time trying to get the others to break camp, and now you rip my dress. You are the one who will be in trouble. Not me.”
They squabbled like little children until I finally clapped my hands and shouted, “Stop!” They both turned and gave me startled looks. “We don’t have time for this bickering. Soon I must return to the store or my Vater will come looking for me.”
Lalah came to my side. “I am sorry about Zurca. He followed me when I was coming to meet you, and then he took me back to the camp and wouldn’t let me come with him. Did he hurt you?”
“No, Lalah. He was very kind to me, and to Oma.”
The girl glanced about. “She is here?”
“No, but Zurca is going to take the blame for starting the fire at the sawmill so that Oma will not get in trouble.” I grasped her hands between my own. “I don’t want her to be sent to live somewhere away from me.”
“But Zurca didn’t start the fire and neither did your Oma.”
Zurca took a long step and leaned over Lalah. “How do you know this, Lalah? Were you away from camp during the night? How many times must I tell you that no one is to—”
She waved him to silence. “Wait until I explain. You always do that, Zurca.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Do what?”
“You never let me finish what I’m saying. And you never listen.”
“I listen, but you—”
Once again I clapped my hands. “Please, stop arguing! How do you know Oma wasn’t the one who started the fire, Lalah?”
She shot Zurca a don’t-interrupt-me look. “Because I was near the sawmill after supper, and I saw a hobo. He had set up camp there. He used some of the shavings and pieces of wood to start a fire. He had a coffeepot and some pots to cook with. It looked like he was going to spend the night there.”
What Lalah said made sense. The hobo must have been the man my grandmother had confused for Opa. She’d spoken of making coffee. “Did you get a good look at him?”
She shook her head. “He was wearing a big floppy hat, but I never saw his face. I didn’t want him to see me.”
“That was wise of you.”
Zurca ground the heel of his boot on a spider that scurried toward my foot. “None of this makes a difference.”
Lalah wheeled toward him. “Why not? It’s the truth.”
“Bah, truth! Who believes the truth when it comes from the mouth of a Gypsy? You tell them about the hobo or you tell them Zurca started the fire, but do not speak of the old woman.”
“She had a match in her pocket,” I whispered.
Zurca shrugged. “She probably took it from the hobo just like she took my scarf. Lalah saw the hobo start a fire. He is the one responsible.” He leaned against the tree and looked me in the eyes. “Protect the old woman. Isn’t that what your Bible says? Take care of the sick and the old ones? Remind your father if he speaks of this Mount Pleasant again.”
“How do you know what the Bible says?”
He gave me a sidelong glance. “You would be surprised what a Gypsy will do for a free meal. Even sit under a tent and listen to a preacher read from the Bible. But that was long ago. Maybe your Bible has changed.”
“No, Zurca. God doesn’t change, and the Bible doesn’t change. But sometimes people change.” I handed him the scarf, and he tied it around his head.
“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” He motioned to Lalah. “Come, girl. We must return to camp.”
I watched as they walked through the stand of pines, Zurca’s hand resting on Lalah’s shoulder, his stringy hair swinging from beneath the multicolored scarf. There was much more to Zurca than I’d imagined. As if he’d read my thoughts, he raised his hand and waved. Tonight I would write about him in my journal.
I raced toward the barbershop, praying Conrad had returned. I sighed in relief when I saw the open door and empty barber chair. Conrad was back, and there were no customers. We would have at least a short time to talk.
“Gretchen!” Conrad jumped to his feet and placed an arm around my shoulder while I panted to breathe. “I’ve been worried. Your father said you went to visit with Mina over an hour ago, but Mina said you hadn’t been to the Küche.”
I inhaled a deep gulp of air and shook my head. “I never said I was going to see Mina. I said I was going out for a while.” I gasped for another breath. “Since that’s the only place I ever go, he just guessed that’s where I was. Did you tell him I wasn’t there?”
“Nein, but if you hadn’t been back in fifteen more minutes, I was going to tell him we needed to go look for you in the Gypsy camp.” We sat down in the two chairs at the front of the shop. “That’s where you were, isn’t it? You went to see Lalah?”
“Yes, just like we discussed. But instead of Lalah, Zurca was waiting for me. He almost frightened me out of my wits.”
Conrad balled his hands into tight fists. “I’m going down there right now and have a talk with him. Who does he think he is!”
“Wait. Before you become angry, let me explain everything that happened. I think you’ll change your mind about him.”
As I told of my conversation with Zurca and his willingness to accept blame for the fire, Conrad’s fists unclenched and his muscles relaxed. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his jaw. “I’m not so sure what should be done. We cannot speak openly of Zurca saving your grandmother from the river.”
“No. Oma doesn’t even remember that she was in the river. For us to speak of the incident now would cause her even greater confusion. And if Vater finds out, I’m not certain what he would say or do.”
“We have been having some talks, your Vater and I, and he now understands that since your Mutter’s death he hasn’t been the same man. He tries to hide the pain, but he knows he is short with you and Stefan. And I don’t think he means everything he says about your grandmother, either.” Conrad reached toward me and clasped my hand. “Men have trouble saying what’s in their hearts and how they feel deep inside. Sometimes, instead of accepting our sadness, we become angry.”
“He told you that?”
His broad smile caused tiny creases to form at the corner of each eye. “Not those exact words, but it is the heart of what he said.”
I felt a pang of sorrow that my father had chosen to share his feelings with Conrad rather than with me, yet I was thankful he realized how much he had changed since my mother’s death. After Mother died, he adopted a different outlook. A bitterness and an unforgiving spirit had seeped into his words and deeds. Perhaps he’d reached a turning point the day I went before the Grossebruderrat. After that meeting he’d started acting more like the father of my childhood. The one I could go to with my problems, the one who was quick to help everyone, even hobos and Gypsies, and the one who enjoyed laughter.
“Maybe the time has come for you to speak openly with your Vater. Tell him your feelings and concerns.”
“I’m not so sure he is ready for such a talk with me, but if there is an opport
unity, I will try.” A train whistled in the distance, and I turned toward the sound. “I better get back to the store. Visitors will be coming, and Vater will need my help.” Conrad continued to hold my hand as he walked me to the door. “Thank you for understanding, Conrad.”
He lifted my hand and brushed a kiss across my fingers. “I am always pleased to help you, Gretchen. You bring great joy to my life.”
“And you bring great joy to my life, as well.” A rush of heat raced up my neck and seared my cheeks. “I must go.” I bent my head and hurried outdoors, hoping Conrad hadn’t seen my flaming cheeks. I’d gone only a few steps when he called my name. I wheeled around to face him.
Conrad pointed to his cheek. “Your cheeks are a lovely shade of pink. I like that.”
I touched my face. “I’m glad you approve, since I seem to have little control over when they do that.”
“Ja. I think I control when they turn pink.” His jovial laughter carried on the breeze.
I glanced down the street to see if anyone was nearby, then held a warning finger to my pursed lips.
Hooking his thumb behind one of his suspenders, Conrad stepped off the narrow porch and into the street. “Maybe I should shout my love for you so all can hear. What do you think about that, Gretchen?”
“I think you better go back inside the barbershop before I tell the elders you need to be sent off to Mount Pleasant.”
He leaned back and laughed. “You would be heartsick without me.”
I didn’t reply, but he was right. I would be heartsick without him.
CHAPTER 27
“Gretchen! Hurry! I need you to go fetch Sister Veda.” My father rushed toward me the minute I entered the store. “Ask her if she will come and look after the store. I just discovered that your grandmother is missing. Stop at the barbershop. If Conrad doesn’t have any customers, ask him to come over here, too.” My father shooed me out the door. “Go! Go! There is no time to talk.”
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