The Gypsy Moon

by Gilbert, Morris

  He lifted her hand and kissed it, which pleased Gabby. “You’re a demonstrative man. I’m glad of that. Some women have men who never show their love or speak of it.”

  “Oh, we Welsh are very romantic fellows,” he said as he swung her hand high. “I’m working on that poem you said I was going to have to write for you.”

  “I look forward to hearing it. Meanwhile, say something nice. Pay me a compliment.”

  “All right,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I’m glad you’re not perfect.”

  “You call that a compliment?”

  “Yes, I do. You’re the earthy type. Just what I need. As a matter of fact, you remind me of a poem a fellow wrote a long time ago to his sweetheart. A fellow called Robert Herrick, who lived way back in the sixteenth century. It goes like this:

  “A sweet disorder in the dress

  Kindles in clothes a wantonness:

  A lawn about the shoulders thrown

  Into a fine distraction:

  An erring lace, which here and there

  Enthrals the crimson stomacher:

  A cuff neglectful, and thereby

  Ribbons to flow confusedly:

  A winning wave, deserving note,

  In the tempestuous petticoat:

  A careless shoe-string, in whose tie

  I see a wild civility:

  Do more bewitch me, than when art

  Is too precise in every part.”

  “So you like me because I’m a mess,” Gabby said as she laughed.

  “More or less. I think that the poem is true. I don’t want a woman who’s all perfectly dressed and afraid to muss her hair.”

  Gabby patted her hat, which was pulled down over her wig.

  “No, I would say you’re just about rough enough for me. You do have a wild civility.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

  “Of course it is. You’ve just got to learn to appreciate it.” He stroked her hand. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the American poet named Walt Whitman?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Your hand reminds me of what he said about hands. ‘The narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery.’ This joint right here”—he wiggled her thumb—“is a miracle to me.”

  “What else did Whitman say?”

  “He said, ‘A mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.’ ”

  “That’s true, isn’t it? All the scientists and all the laboratories that ever were couldn’t begin to duplicate the amazing things God has created.”

  He pulled her hand up so he could examine it. “I love your hands, Gabby,” he said, and then he put his arm around her. “They do good things, like healing and working hard to bless others. And they’ll be good for loving a husband too.”

  Gabby felt content. She knew that her experience with men had not been good, but she believed, as they walked along the rutted road headed for danger, that she had found the man God had made for her.

  They walked in silence past a field of windmills, and then they all grew tense as they approached a small town. Dai felt the hardness of the gun in his belt and hoped fervently that he would not have to use it. It’ll be much better if we can bluff our way through this, he thought.

  There were no more than a dozen or so shops scattered on one main street in the village. Houses, some with thatched roofs, formed other streets, all of which were quite narrow.

  “I’m going into that shop to get something for supper tonight,” Dai told the others. “You three stay a good distance away.”

  “All right,” Gabby said. “Don’t say any more than you have to.”

  Liza was desperate for a break. Her boots were not a good fit, and she had blisters on both feet.

  Dai went into the store and picked out some fruit and canned meat, and after paying for them with some coins, he started for the door. As he did, he heard the roar of vehicles approaching. When he stepped outside, he saw a truck filled with German soldiers, and his heart constricted as an officer got out and walked straight toward him.

  ****

  Oberleutnant Fritz Glassner was angry. He had been comfortable enough in Amsterdam enjoying the taverns and the good food. Now he had to scour bumpy country roads in an endless pursuit for some people who were trying to escape. He practically left his seat as they hit another pothole. “We’re wasting our time chasing after this handful of trash, Sergeant,” he said to his companion, “but orders are orders! These people must be important.”

  “I wonder what’s so important about these people we’re after,” Karl Bentz responded.

  Glassner grunted, “It’s none of your business, Sergeant. You just drive the truck.”

  Bentz looked out his side window to hide his smile, for he knew that the officer had no answer. The truth was that a number of troops had been mustered and were beating every pig path in the vicinity of a hundred kilometers of Amsterdam. They had descriptions of the man they were most interested in, and all they knew was that it was important to bring him in alive. The people he was with were not so important.

  They were approaching a village, and Bentz said, “Lieutenant, we’ve been going hard. Couldn’t we stop and have some beer if there’s any to be had in this village?”

  “I suppose so, and I need some cigarettes. You watch over the men, and don’t take more than twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, that should be enough, sir.”

  The truck stopped, and Glassner watched as the men trooped into the tavern to have a few drinks, led by the sergeant. He headed for the store to buy cigarettes, but when he got closer, he saw a soldier he didn’t recognize coming out of the building.

  ****

  Dai tried to angle away from the officer who was coming toward him, but the man said, “You, there, come here!” He had no choice but to turn.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought my unit would be the only one passing through here today.”

  “Yes, sir. You’re correct, sir. My commander told me there would be another unit coming through here, but we should keep to ourselves. We’re on a special mission, and we need to keep moving, sir.”

  “Who is ‘we,’ soldier?”

  “There are three others with me,” he said as he pointed. “They’re taking a much-needed rest while I buy supplies.”

  “Very well, soldier. Carry on.”

  Dai turned and moved swiftly toward the others.

  Glassner watched them disappear down the road. He went inside and bought his cigarettes, and when he came out, he went to the tavern to join his men. The men were all drinking beer, and Sergeant Bentz came over to say, “Have a beer, Captain?”

  “No! Get the men in the truck. We have work to do.”

  ****

  “What did he say, Dai?” Gabby asked. “I was worried about you.”

  “I told him we were on a special mission. That we needed to keep moving.”

  “Do you think he’s suspicious?” Dalton asked.

  “No, I think he believed my story.”

  “What a relief,” Liza said. “I was afraid he would come over here and interrogate us. I can’t seem to sound like a man, no matter how much I practice.”

  “I’m actually glad about that,” Dalton said. “I like your voice just the way it is.”

  ****

  Later that evening, they were all getting tired and irritable as they walked into the night. They had taken a number of breaks throughout the day so Liza could rest her aching feet.

  “Tell me about yourself,” Gabby said, hoping to get Dai’s mind off the situation.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I know so little about you. Tell me about your first sweetheart.”

  He laughed. “You would want to know that.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, her name was Gorawen.”

  “What an ugly—I mean, what an unusual name!”

  “Maybe to you, but it means joy in Welsh
.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was fifteen, and she was the same age. We had the same birthday.”

  “Were you sweethearts long?”

  “About six months, I think. Then she dropped me for an older boy named Evan Bryce. We had a terrible fight, which I lost.” He laughed aloud. “That’s when I learned that all women are fickle.”

  “Not all.”

  “John Donne thought they were.”

  “You mean the poet?” she said. “I’ve always loved his poems.”

  “Do you know the one that goes like this?

  “Go and catch a falling star,

  Get with child a mandrake root,

  Tell me where all past years are,

  Or who cleft the devil’s foot . . .

  “I don’t remember the rest of it, but he winds up by saying:

  “Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me

  All strange wonders that befell thee,

  And swear

  No where

  Lives a woman true, and fair.”

  “I’d forgotten that one,” Gabby said. “He must have been a cynical man.”

  “I think he was really two men. He was quite a womanizer in his early days, but later he became a very godly man.”

  “I don’t like it, Dai. He shouldn’t talk that way about women. You don’t believe it, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He put his arms around her and pulled her close, and when he kissed her, she felt something different in him. “I see that I’m going to have quite a job on my hands educating you on the fair nature of women,” she said lightly.

  But Dai did not smile. “Will you have me, then?”

  At that moment, trundling along a rutted road in Holland with danger imminent and life uncertain, Gabrielle Winslow knew that Dai was asking her something very important. She had to be sure. “Do you mean . . . forever?”

  “Yes, forever.”

  “I’ll have you, Dai Bando.” She put her arms around him, and when he kissed her soundly, she knew that she had found her place. She was overwhelmed with her love for this man who had put himself in such danger to save her and her family. As they continued walking, she couldn’t help but remember the group of gypsies she had encountered so long ago. They said a full moon is when gypsy men and women fall in love. And here we are living like gypsies. They just might be right!

  She beamed with joy as they walked arm in arm. “Mrs. Bando . . .” she said, trying it on for size. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to being Mrs. Bando.”

  He stroked the back of her neck gently and smiled. “Maybe I’ll take your name instead. I’ll be Dai Winslow.”

  The two clung to each other, and both knew that their deep love would endure whatever the future held for them. “Someday we’ll have children, “she whispered, “and when our daughter grows up, I’ll tell her about the unusual way her father proposed, and how I told him I’d be his forever!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Plans Go Wrong

  Carefully, Erik Raeder drew the razor down his cheek and then wiped the white foam off on a towel. He finished his shave methodically, put his shaving kit away, and slipped into his tunic. He paused to study a large map of the Netherlands on the wall. Slowly, he drew several circles with his finger around Amsterdam, getting larger each time. “They’re still in this country,” he murmured, “I know they are!”

  He felt betrayed and humiliated by Gabrielle Winslow. She had deceived him somehow, and now as he stalked out of his quarters stiff-legged, his heels striking hard on the floor, he could not put the matter out of his mind.

  He walked across the street toward the staff offices and wondered at himself. Am I so fragile that a woman can destroy me? The thought tormented him. He had not known that any human being could hurt him so badly—particularly a woman. Perhaps it was this that troubled him more than anything. His male pride was injured, and that made him feel vulnerable in a way he had never felt before.

  The streets were quieter than usual. Ordinarily, trucks filled with soldiers crowded the roads, but now it seemed they were all dispersed in every direction, spreading outward from Amsterdam looking for Dalton Burke. The matter had severe political and career connotations, and Raeder was sensitive to how this would affect him. He had received a sizzling phone call from his father, who had been coached, no doubt, by General Rahn, and Erik had had no defense for his harsh reprimand.

  When he reached the buildings that held the staff headquarters, he found Oberleutnant Glassner waiting in his office. “What have you found, Glassner?”

  Glassner blinked at the vicious tone of his superior officer. He had seen Colonel Raeder’s anger growing since the affair had begun and had taken care to keep his distance from him whenever possible. “I’m sorry, Colonel, but—”

  “But you’ve done nothing!”

  “Colonel, we have a tremendous territory to cover, and our manpower is not unlimited. We’re doing the best we can.”

  “Your best isn’t good enough!” Erik exploded. He shouted for a few moments, halting only when General Rahn entered.

  “Well, what news do you have for me?” Rahn demanded. “Have you found them yet?”

  “No, sir, I’m afraid not,” Erik said between tightly clenched teeth.

  Rahn shook his head furiously. “They’re keeping the phones hot from Berlin. The woods are on fire, man, don’t you understand that?”

  “Yes, sir, I understand it, but I can’t promise any better results.”

  Rahn’s face flushed, and his eyes narrowed. “We’ve got to do something. We’ve got to find that man. Do you understand me? He was on the verge of developing the most devastating weapon known to mankind. We can’t let another country get their hands on his project!”

  “Yes, sir, I understand you. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “I suggest that you do your job. Use every man we have. Get the cooks out, every man that can walk, and do it now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Erik said wearily as the general turned on his heel and left. “Come with me, Glassner!” he snapped.

  ****

  Gabby pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Her lack of sound sleep was catching up to her. They had kept to the back roads as much as possible, but now they had been forced to take one that was more traveled. They were racing against time to reach Katwijk. The previous night they had stopped a good distance off the road, but the trucks and motorcycles and vehicles of the Germans had roared back and forth all night. Dai had shaken his head, saying, “If Liza’s blisters don’t get better soon, I don’t see how we’ll make it. We’ve got to make better time.”

  “I’ve tried everything I can think of to ease her pain, but there’s no way to get around those awful boots.”

  “We’ll just have to do the best we can and hope the submarine is waiting for us.”

  “We’ll make it, Dai.” Gabby reached over and put her hand on his arm. He turned to her and smiled. “God will see us through. Grandmother used to say that God doesn’t sponsor failures.”

  “I like that.”

  “So do I. I keep remembering all the things my grandmother told me. It’s amazing how her memory is still alive within me. And I still remember my mother, even though I was only five when I lost her.”

  “I suppose that’s a kind of immortality,” Dai mused. “We live on in what we tell our children and what they pass along to theirs.”

  “What a nice thought.”

  “That’s about the end of my philosophy, I guess.” He suddenly straightened up and stared down the roadway. “There’s the village. There’s sure to be a checkpoint there. It’s going to get harder to fool our way through them.”

  They turned around and waited for Liza and Dalton, who were walking several meters behind them.

  “What is it?” Dalton asked. “Is there trouble?”

  “A checkpoint ahead,” Dai said.

  “Let me check your makeup,” Gabby said
as she examined her uncle’s nose. She got her foundation out of her knapsack and dabbed a little onto a spot that had faded. When she was satisfied that her uncle looked natural, she turned to Liza and decided she looked fine as well.

  “Do I look okay, Liza?” she asked. “Do I still look like I need to shave?”

  “You look good, Gabby,” she said. “Just pull your cap down a little farther and you’ll be fine.”

  The checkpoint was manned by an iron-eyed soldier who held a rifle in his hands. “Halt!” he cried out as the small group approached. “Who is your commanding officer, and what is your destination?”

  Dai pulled a name out of the air and told him they were going to a small town not too far away.

  “Be on your way, then.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “That was a close one,” Dai said, releasing his breath when they were out of hearing distance.

  “That German was not very thorough,” Gabby said.

  They walked on until a smaller road, obviously not used too often, led off to the left. “We’ll take this,” Dai said, “and we’ll stay off the main road.”

  ****

  “I’m going to leave you here,” Dai said. “I can hear the breakers. The village, according to my map, should be no more than a couple miles away.”

  “We’ll be all right,” Gabby said. Now that they were close to the coast, she felt encouraged. “You be careful. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “I need to find my contact there—the fisherman who’s going to take us out to the sub. I’m glad we got here a day early so we have plenty of time to come up with another plan if something happened to him.” He pulled her into his arms. “I hate to leave the three of you without me. Here, you take the pistol.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

  “If your life is on the line, I think you’ll figure it out.” He tightened his grasp and looked down into her eyes. “You’re some woman, Gabrielle Winslow.”

  “And you’re some man, Dai Bando.”

  They kissed, and then he released her and disappeared into the darkness. As she watched him head toward the village, a sinking feeling came over Gabby, but she straightened up and prayed a little prayer before going back to wait with the others.