I’ll take my shower and then….maybe.
Nervous tingles washed down her arms, forcing her to flex her fingers. A prickle of fear shot through her stomach at the thought of what she might discover within the little box. Part of her wanted to leave the box closed forever and never know what it held. Curiosity and need to know who she really was, however, drove her past anxiety and hesitation.
Twenty minutes later, she sat Indian style in the middle of her bed, freshly scrubbed and feeling refreshed. Curiosity at its peak, she picked up the box and set it in her lap. Pita took a deep calming breath, feeling her heart thump just a little harder against her chest wall. Clumsy fingers fumbled with the little clasp on the lid and flipped it open. A faint, musty odor tickled her nose. She opened her eyes, not even aware she’d closed them, and glanced into the shallow rectangular space.
The first thing she saw was a pile of old papers neatly stacked on top. She picked up the top item and turned it over in her hands. Yellowed from age but not delicate, Pita gently unfolded the paper careful not to tear it. It was a marriage license—her parent’s. She ran loving fingers over the names and smiled, sadly. Setting it aside, Pita picked up two passports rubber banded together. These too, she set aside. The next item was a manila envelope marked birth certificates.
She hugged the envelope to her chest. Hmm…maybe this will be a clue. She turned the envelope over in her hands. One could be mine.
Uncertainty pierced her and anxiety stampeded through her body like the tiny feet of hundreds of ants.
Her fingers wouldn’t work as she tried to lift the little clips securing the envelope. Finally, the clasp lifted, she gingerly opened the flap and turned it over pouring the contents. The two aged documents fluttered out onto the bed. On closer inspection, they belonged to her adoptive parents.
Damn! Disappointed, she carefully placed the certificates back into the envelope. Okay…don’t give up…yet.
Many items and documents had little or no meaning to Pita, but important for one reason or another to her parents. She slowly weeded through them and set them aside.
As she worked her way to the very bottom of the box, she found a three by five, discolored and unmarked envelope. Pita picked it up and lifted the flap, peering at the contents. Old photos…
She turned the envelope over and three pictures slid out. Pita arranged them in front of her on the bed. Intrigued, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
What? Who are these people? Where…
Chapter 6
Pita stared down at the photographs spread out before her. One was of her adopted parents but they were much younger. They stood at the foot of a picturesque mountain. Behind them, clusters of evergreen trees towered upon the rising grassy terrain. They reminded her of Christmas trees. Mounds of golden hay were stacked about the field. Mom and Dad smiled happily for the camera.
I wonder where they are. She turned the photo over. Neatly written across the back was “Devksa araklam tume.” Beneath it was signed, “Petru, 1965.”
“Petru?”
Puzzled, she set the picture down and picked up the next one. It was of an older man holding a newborn baby. He had dark hair with a fair amount of grey streaked throughout, not quite salt and pepper and a thick bushy mustache twisted at the ends under full cheeks and small dark eyes. His clothing was clean but well worn and a little loose on his gangly form.
Pita turned the photo over. Her eyes grew wide and she sucked in her breath in a gasp. The words written across the back said, “Petru and baby Pita.”
“It’s me…” A tear slid down her cheek. “It’s me,” she whispered again in awe and hugged the photo to her chest then, set it aside.
The last photo depicted a small village as the setting and in the forefront, a group of people stood waving and smiling. She recognized Petru standing amongst the group, a huge grin on his weathered face. The women all wore full, ankle-length skirts and gauzy, peasant blouses. Men were dressed in trousers, jackets over oxford type shirts, and some wore knit vests or sweaters over their shirts in lieu of the jackets.
On the back was another phrase she didn’t understand. She needed them translated. Pita gazed at the phrase trying to determine the language but she hadn’t a clue.
It read, “Stanki nashti tshi arakenpe manusheb shai” and beneath that “Ashlen Devlese Romule.”
“If I figure out what language this is, perhaps I’ll discover where they are? And where I was born?”
She gathered the photos then tapped them gently on the bed. More than curious about the people depicted and the language written on the photos, Pita reached for the remote phone on the night table and dialed.
C’mon, c’mon, c’mon...Pita bounced on the bed with nervous energy.
Sasha finally picked up on the third ring, voice groggy with sleep. “Hello?”
“Hi, Sash.” Pita cringed when she glanced at the time on the small bedside clock. “Sorry to call so late or would it be early…but, I couldn’t help it. I found some old pictures and guess what?” Before Sasha had a chance to respond, Pita pushed on. “One has me in it!”
“Whoa! Slow down, girl.” Sasha yawned, then laughed. “Give me a minute to wake up.”
Pita hesitated, and then rushed on. “I’m excited, and I need help figuring something out.”
“Okay, okay.” Sasha sounded more alert now. Good. “How do you know you’re in the pictures?”
“Well…one is of my parents. Then there’s one of a man holding a baby. The baby is me!”
“How do you know the baby is you?”
Pita sighed in exasperation. “I know because it says it’s me on the back, and it has the year, 1965, Sash, the year I was born.” She gulped a breath of air and continued. “There are phrases written on the back but I don’t recognize the language. I need you to help me figure it out. Also one’s background seems to be a small village and there are mountains and haystacks in the others. Will you come over and check them out?” Pita took a shaky breath. “Maybe this is a beginning…a clue to who I am. The people look Romanian, like the pictures your parents used to show us when we were kids. Do you think they can decipher the language?”
“Pita! Pita!” Sasha’s voice broke through the line. She could hear the laughter in her friend’s voice. “Slow down, please. Give me a couple of hours or so, and I’ll come over.”
“Okay.” Pita laughed. “Take a few hours. I think I’ll go to bed now. I really am sorry to call you like this. I was just so excited I didn’t realize the time.”
“I couldn’t tell. I’ll see you later.”
Pita hung up almost giddy. Then suddenly, she felt exhausted.
****
After she tossed and turned for the better part of three hours, her brain too active to relax, Pita got up and put on a pot of coffee, then went to take a quick shower.
Half an hour later, she padded barefoot back into the kitchen, fingers combing through her freshly washed hair. The grandfather clock in the living room struck the half hour enticing her glance at the wall clock in the kitchen.
“Hmmm…” She took a swig of coffee, “5:30.”
Thinking about the phrases on the photos, an idea struck her. She headed into the office and turned the computer on, then went to the bedroom to get the photos.”I’ll see if I can get them translated on the computer.” She tapped the photos in her palm.
By the time she went back into the office, the computer was up and ready. She logged online and tapped “Romanian translator” into the search engine. There were plenty of sites but, they all required fees and had several days turn around for reply.
She tapped in “free Romanian translator” and got two candidates.
But, when she clicked on the sites, she found they also required registration and fees.
“Damn. I’d call that false advertising.” She sighed loudly. “Okay, looks like I wait for Sasha.” As if on cue with her thoughts, the phone rang. Pita smiled.
&n
bsp; “Finally! It took you long enough to call me back.”
“How did you know it was me?” Sasha asked. “You don’t have Caller ID.”
Pita laughed. “You don’t grow up together without forming a psychic link of some kind.”
“Have you gotten any sleep?” Pita heard the laughter in Sasha’s voice.
“Not really. You?”
“A little, but I felt guilty—”
“No, Sash. Why would you feel guilty?” Pita interrupted. “I wake you up in the middle of the night and expect you to come running over here because I found some old photos…” She laughed. “No. It could wait until morning.”
“I disagree. You were so excited I should have come over. So…that’s why I’m coming now. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes. Make sure you have plenty of java.” The words shot through the line. Pita heard rustling then a door slam as Sasha got ready to run out.
“I know better than to argue with you. I’ll have the coffee for you. Hey, thanks.” Pita’s voice cracked with emotion.
“What are friends for? See you in a little while.” Sasha disconnected the call.
Pita went into the kitchen, got some blueberry muffins from the cupboard, and set the table with cups and saucers. She gazed out the bay window at the lush tree line at the back of the yard. Blue jays dipped and cried in the early dawn, while a brilliant red cardinal fed its mate on the bird feeder. The sun wasn’t quite up yet and dawn cast the yard a purplish-pink hue. Pita’s eyes scanned the forest’s edge. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and an electric sensation ran through her as her eyes locked on the amber eyes. They had phosphorescence in the growing light of day. The sensation caressed the sensitive receptors of her mind, creating the whisper of sound like fur sliding across warm marble to invade her thoughts.
“Let me in, Pita. I can help you.”
Pita tilted her head in wonder while she locked eyes with the animal. The moment surreal, as the voice filled her head. Its tone, a soft rumble that rolled and bounced within her mind low and soothing. Pita felt calm and relaxed, though her mind attempted to trigger her fight or flight reflex. She stood safe and secure inside the house, so how was it possible to hear the wolf—for that matter how could the wolf be talking to her in the first place?
“No.” She shook herself. “You cannot take over my mind like this. Who are you? What do you want?”
The warm fuzzy feeling faltered but came back to wash her mind again. It felt nice, almost like the sensation of being pleasantly drunk. The voice slid into her mind again.
“Do not fear me. I have come to bring you home.”
“Home? Home, where?” Pita whispered her eyes still locked with those of the wolf. Must break eye contact. That’s the only way to make it stop. But, it feels so warm and …. No! Fight it!
The doorbell rang. The chimes cut through the fuzzy heat like cold steel and the connection was lost. Pita turned away from the window but felt compelled to look back out. The wolf was gone. The sun peeked through the trees and the birds were doing bird things, as always.
Chapter 7
Pita watched Sasha add cream to her coffee and study the pictures spread out in front of her.
“Whaddya think?” She asked unable to keep silent any longer.
“I agree that these are probably in Romania.” She turned the photos over. “And this definitely looks like the language. One of the phrases I recognize because it is common. This one,” she said tapping the one of the photos. “Aslen Devlese Romule. It means “May you go with God.” The other phrase before it.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Sasha picked up another photo and studied it thoughtfully. “This one has something to do with God also. See this word, ‘Devksa’? I think that’s another reference to God. I can’t translate the other words, though.”
“How about your parents, do you think they can translate?”
“Oh, I’m more than sure they can. Let me give them a call. I know you’re biting at the bit.” Sasha smiled. “My parents are early risers, so they’ll be up now.”
The call made and the kitchen cleaned up, they left for Sasha’s parents’ house.
****
Pita pretended to concentrate on the roadway, but she could feel Sasha’s stare burning like a brand on the side of her face. She’d considered telling her friend about the experience earlier with the wolf, though, for some reason didn’t feel comfortable about it. Not able to put a finger on it, but somehow, Pita felt she should keep the experience to herself—at least for now. At least until she figured out what had really happened. What happened was a wolf held a psychic conversation with her through the walls of her house. Yeah, that sounds about right. Get the padded room ready. Even Sasha won’t readily believe this one, Pita thought. No one would take her seriously.
“You seem pre-occupied. Is something wrong?”
Pita’s glance slid sideways at Sasha, then flicked back to the road. “Oh, no…I was just feeling thankful that I have such a wonderful friend.” Smiling, she glanced back at Sasha.
“Bullshit. I know you better than that, and besides you don’t lie well.” Sasha grinned.
“Okay…okay. I was thinking about how weird things have gotten lately.”
“That, I’d believe. Did something happen you’re not telling me?”
“No. Really.” I hate when she gets in my head like that. “It’s just that all these little things seem to be piling up into quite a mystery, don’t you think?” Pita stared straight ahead and kept her focus on the road. “Now I find the pictures and remember, I never pressed about my biological parents, Sash. To ask about them seemed disloyal to mom and dad. Now it is all I can think about. I want to know where I came from and why my birth mother and father gave me up. The list goes on and on.”
“Well, it’s looking like you’ve got a solid start with the discovery of the photos. Hopefully, my parents will be helpful.” Sasha looked over at her. “Will you go to Romania?”
“Go to Romania? Geez, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” She turned into the driveway and put the car into park. “I guess if the trail leads in that direction, I’ll have to consider it.”
Sasha opened the car door. “C’mon, let’s go see what those phrases mean and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”
****
The foursome sat around the small walnut and mica kitchen table. The Kayne’s perused the photos and made small acknowledging noises to one another, then turned them over and studied the backs and then more noises along with a few glances back and forth at one another.
Pita was getting antsy. She shifted in her chair and nudged Sasha who shrugged and asked. “Ma, do either of you know what they say?”
Her parents glanced at one another again and her father nodded ascent to her mother. He waved her on and sat back taking a sip of coffee.
Sera Kayne squirmed in her chair, but then glanced cheerfully at Pita. “We know where these were taken and exactly what they say.”
Pita sat bone straight in her chair. A flush of heat passed from her toes to her face, and she felt almost faint with anxiety. “You do?”
“Yes.” She pointed at the picture of her adoptive parents on the mountainside. “This is outside a small village at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains called Rikovea. It was near the village where we lived, and Sasha was born. There is an ancient castle on these lands that is a tourist attraction today.”
“So, I was born in Romania?” Pita asked but knew the question sounded stupid. Must be shock setting in, she thought. “That was dumb,” she said.
“No, dear, not dumb. You are taken by surprise learning something like this. How could you have known if no one has told you?” Sera reached across the table and patted her arm.
“I don’t know why I never asked.” Pita said. “My parents would have told me had I wanted to know. I am sure of that.”
“I am in agreement with you, my child.” Sera glanced at her husband. He handed her the photos, and she turned t
hem so she could translate the phrases. She laid them on the table face down between herself and Pita. Sasha squeezed over closer to Pita. Her father sat quietly, arms folded across his chest and relaxed.
“Devska araklam tume,” she pronounced clearly, “means, “It is with God that we found you.” The phrase refers to you. Your adoptive parents were blessed to find you.”
Pita nodded in understanding and an errant tear slid down her cheek.
Sera pointed to the phrase that was on the back of the picture of the villagers and read, “Stanki nahti tshi arakenpe manusheb shai” translates, “Mountains do not meet but people do.” And below that is “Ashlen Devlese Romule”, “May you go with God.” They were bidding you and your parents, goodbye.”
“This just raises a billion more questions.” Pita blurted.
Sera patted her hand and smiled. “I know, but we hope this helps a little. You should know who you are.”
“Ma, thank you for helping us.” Sasha stood and signaled Pita to follow. She bent over her father and kissed his cheek then kissed her mother. Pita did the same with both and gave her thanks.
“You are most welcome.” Sera said with a smile. “Let us know if we can be of anymore help to you.” She glanced over at her husband who smiled and nodded at the girls.
Sasha nudged Pita out the kitchen door.
“Sash, wait,” Pita said turning back. “I never got a chance to tell them about the wolf.”
Sasha grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the door. “No, that’s not a good idea. C’mon, let’s go.” She continued to guide Pita toward her car.
Trying to break Sasha’s grip, Pita asked, “What’s the hurry? And why can’t we talk about the wolf?”
Curse Of The Marhime Page 3
