“We have tae tell Magda everything.”
Rosalie’s eyes flew open. “No, ye cannae!” Rosalie gripped Anna’s cloak until her knuckles blanched white.
“Wha’ am I supposed tae do?” Her voice cracked, and she hiccupped on her cries.
Rosalie’s voice resonated like a growl from her chest. “Keep yer mouth shut.”
Anna drew in a sharp breath through her teeth. “Ye know I cannae lie.” She shuddered. “Tha’ ole witch has a way o’ seein’ through me.”
Rosalie’s heart pounded again. She touched the warmth creeping up her throat. “Jus’ don’ say anythin’. Especially not abou’ tonight an’ Declan. Ye don’ have tae lie if ye keep yer mouth shut.”
Anna nodded slowly, but Rosalie could tell from her squirming, silence would gnaw at her. She sat there for a moment under Rosalie’s fixed eyes. The meat of her lip curled between her teeth as she thought.
“Do ye love him?”
Rosalie blinked. At first, her mind bounced to Enoch with disgust, and then she saw the look in Anna’s eyes. She didn’t expect this question.
“Declan?” His name was sweet on her tongue. Anna nodded. “Nay,” Rosalie shook her head. “I don’ even know him.”
“But the way he kissed you!”
All this trouble for someone she’d known only two days. She touched where he’d cupped her cheek, and her heart jumped. There was nothing she could say. Everything about him felt familiar, felt right.
“Please don’ leave me,” Anna begged, the tears starting again.
Rosalie pulled her into her chest. “Shh, don’ cry. I willnae leave ye.”
There were no other women in the community their age. It pulled at her heart to imagine a friendless life within the community.
Anna looked up at her with big eyes. “Ye mus’ talk to Magda about Enoch.”
Rosalie patted Anna’s head. She was uncertain, remembering their discussion about men, husbands, and the unfortunate role of women. Her frown twisted. “Let’s not talk abou’ it anymore tonight.”
She rubbed the stress collecting between her eyes. Rosalie rose with a tired groan. The fire was reduced to embers, and the first fingerings of dawn started lifting the darkness—enough to forgo the torch. Rosalie stretched her hand out to hoist up her friend.
Anna clasped the hand but did not stand. “Promise me ye won’ see him again.”
Anna gripped Rosalie with enough power to pull her over and just held her in the stooped position, forcing her to look into her eyes.
The memory of Declan’s kiss surged through her. Butterflies fluttered and warmed her lower abdomen all over again. His words echoed in her ears. Could she stay away knowing he would wait for her each night? Her eyebrows dipped together, and her lips pressed into a hard line.
It was enough of an answer for Anna. Anger relit in her big brown eyes. “Yer so selfish, Rosie.” Anna stood up and started to storm back into the woods, her fists balled up at her sides. “Yer gonna let yerself fall in love with him, an’ leave me an’ leave Magda forever. Leave us all alone for some stranger.”
Rosalie chased after her. “Anna.”
“Don’ even speak tae me!”
Anna thrashed through the thickets, cursing and mumbling under her breath. Rosalie could only catch bits and pieces of Anna’s tirade. It was enough to know Anna would be angry until Rosalie’s position in the Roma community was solidified. She was scared.
“Already has a suitor…spoilt rotten… leave Magda an’ me all alone…argh.”
Lack of sleep, fear, and facing the truth of her current reality sapped any energy Rosalie had to argue. She let Anna rampage until they neared the camp enough for someone to hear. Anna almost burst from the bushes and stormed right into the settlement. Rosalie caught her wrist and yanked her back.
The young traveler raised a slender finger to her lips. Anna looked more closely through the haze of gray mist clinging to the tents and stumps and stones. Alexander and Enoch sipped their morning coffee right next to a freshly stoked fire. Shit. There was no way they could make it back to their tents without them seeing.
Chapter Nine
“Shit.” Anna’s hands flew to her mouth as she drew in short, panicked breaths.
Rosalie raised her hands as if she was soothing a wild horse. “Calm down, Anna.”
“Calm down?” She squeaked, “I swear, Rosalie…shit.”
Rosalie was fully dressed. Anna, however, only had time to pull on her cloak over her shift to follow her friend. The young redhead looked Anna over and started pulling the bits of leaves and twigs from her hair. Anna tried to slap her away.
“What’re ye doin’?” She scowled.
“Shut up… I have a plan.”
Rosalie licked her thumb and scrubbed a smear of dirt from Anna’s cheek. “Clean me up, will ye?”
Anna obliged. Her nostrils flared wide; her thick brows furrowed, casting an angry shadow over her face. Just two paces away grew a thick berry bush, and Rosalie made a basket with her skirt and started to pick. Anna followed suit, but Rosalie slapped her hand down.
“Not you,” she growled and pointed to the bare ankles and blue lace peeking from beneath the wool cloak. Anna blushed and helped pick until they couldn’t fit any more berries in the folds. “Let me do the talkin’. Jus’ smile.”
Anna swallowed and nodded, looking petrified. Rosalie pointed.“Go straight fer the tent, ye hear? If anyone says anythin’ to ye, ye pretend ye cannae hear, an’ get in that tent.”
The two girls arose and cut behind the closest caravan. It didn’t make a difference, but coming from a different angle felt safer somehow. Anna’s hand touched the flap to her tent.
“Ho!” Alexander’s voice called out. Anna froze. Rosalie bumped her with her hip.
“Go!” she said and turned. “Alexander?” Rosalie forced a convincing smile.
“What mischief are ye up to today?”
The elder puffed from his pipe. One of his eyes squinted, and the other studied her head to toe beneath an arched white brow. The smoke billowed out in fragrant wisps.
“Berries.” Rosalie tilted her skirt to show him the modest pile of fruit. She cursed herself for not managing a better reply and hoped they couldn’t see the warmth scratching at her throat. Enoch jetted his hand out, and Rosalie instinctively stepped aside to avoid him.
“Oh,” he cooed. His eyes lit up. The old man removed his pipe from his lips and rose from his stump to get a better look. “Enoch,” He plucked a berry from Rosalie’s dress and popped it into his mouth, “Get off with ye. I’ll have a chat with Rosalie now.”
Alexander shooed his nephew away. Enoch gave Rosalie a look in passing, which rang out loud and clear. She’d regret speaking against him. The young woman grabbed a basket and emptied her skirt. She stuffed a handful of berries in her mouth, hoping the sweetness would calm her nerves.
Alexander gestured to the open stump next to him. His mouth remained pressed around the stem of his pipe, but a smile shone in the fine lines webbing around his eyes. He regarded her for a moment. The silence added to Rosalie’s anxiety. She kept her eyes on her lap, wondering what she must look like in the soft morning light.
“My nephew has high hopes for the tae of ye.”
Her throat dried, making it difficult to speak. “Yes.” It came out as more of a question than an affirmation.
Alexander pulled the clay pipe from his lips and set it down. His ancient hands cracked as he reached out to pour a cup of steaming tea for Rosalie.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Magda is worried abou’ ye.”
Rosalie’s eyes shot up from the twists of steam.
“You’re all she has lef’ in this world.”
It seemed as if guilt and desire for things she could not have were the constant dirge of her present life. Rosalie didn’t know what to say. Alexander looked at her through kind, wise eyes. She felt like a child under his gaze—one caught lying. He looked at her as if he
had her figured out. She kept her mouth shut.
“There are many kinds o’ relationships in our lives, Rosalie, and many paths we can take which shape an’ define us.”
A small tin snapped open in his hand. The smell of wet tobacco wafted up as he repacked his pipe. For a moment, a worried look crossed his face. It passed as quickly as it appeared before Rosalie’s attentive gaze.
“My wife, bless her soul, loved me as the day is long, an’ I her. Not all can be so lucky. In the next months…” He lit the pipe, sending up a veil of smoke between them. “You will fin’ yerself faced with decisions tha’ will affect me an’ Magda an’ our people,”
Rosalie let the air from her lungs, her whole body curling over. Alexander’s brow rose at her dismay. She pursed her lips. He knows something’s wrong.
Alexander continued, “Marriage can be many things, but ’tis always a team effort—a partnership. How these partnerships succeed and fail effects the res’ o’ the community. One person takes on duties, so the other can accomplish their own. Our women raise our bairns with the values and traditions of our people. Our men protect ‘em an’ feed ‘em in sickness an’ health. Our parents raise our chil’ren, an’ later, our chil’ren care fer their parents. It is a cycle o’ dependency which works when all do their parts.” The tone in his voice changed. “It is my job tae keep my people healthy an’ happy. It is a tragedy whenever a couple filled with so much hope unites, an’ then struggles. It affects no’ only their well-being, but the community and the nex’ generation. If a woman is troubled, her duties may slip. Her usefulness to the whole depletes as her soul dims. If a man strays from his wife, discord is planted. Men an’ women fear their commitments may be tainted by the man’s infidelity like an infectious plague. If a couple fights excessively, it becomes the bane o’ the entire community, for we live in close quarters, an’ share each other’s life. Do ye understan’ wha’ I’m sayin’?”
Rosalie nodded, even though she was uncertain about what all of this meant. Was he pushing her towards or away from Enoch? “I believe so.”
Alexander nodded and paused to think. “Our lives are not our own. As the elder o’ our people, ‘tis me job to ensure as much peace an’ freedom as retains our traditions, harmony, and values. Yet, it is still my responsibility tae step in and dictate when necessary when I can foresee a storm we can evade. I may be old, but I am not blind to my nephew’s nature.” He eyed her as if gauging her reaction. “Nor yours.”
“What’re ye sayin’?” It slipped from her mouth.
Alexander let out a sigh and surprised Rosalie by taking her hand in his. “I’m sayin’ ye need to think abou’ what this marriage will mean an’ be tae ye, chil’. You an’ Enoch are different people. I see why he likes you, an’ I am not a fool tae yer position, yet tha’ is no’ enough to make a good match. Whether it’s love, friendship, teamwork, or simply family an’ tradition, both o’ ye will need to bend the make it work.”
Rosalie felt the tears stinging the edges of her eyes. She knew Enoch would not bend. In this intimate moment with Alexander, she felt safe and comfortable enough to open up to him. He seemed to read her heart then better than she ever thought was possible. Until now, she assumed he would side with his nephew no matter what—and now, it gave her hope that he might bend and give her another option.
“If I don’ marry, I will have to leave.”
It was a question more than an observation—the great fear adding pressure to her from all sides.
Alexander sighed and sat up. His hand still rubbed Rosalie’s fingers with tender affection. “It’s true. There is a reason fer it, chil’. An’ ye wouldn’t want it, even if I could change our ways. With ye comin’ o’ age, the other women would treat ye different.”
“They already treat me different,” Rosalie snapped in frustration.
Alexander remained patient. “Aye, an’ they’ll treat ye even more so if ye remain a maid. I don’ expect ye tae understand yet, but fear does terrible things tae good people. If they see ye as a threat—”
“Threat? How—”
Alexander raised his hand to quiet her. She sucked her words back. “As difficult as it is, yer chil’hood has faded, Rosalie. Men an’ women alike will see ye different, an’ thus treat ye different.”
Rosalie bit at her lip. “If I don’ stay…” the thought trailed off. A hard lump rose in her throat as she thought of Magda. There was nowhere for her to go outside of the community. Sure, Declan was interested, but would he remain so when the infatuation faded—when she stopped being a no-risk investment of his time and flirtations? What life would she have without her family and a husband? The life of a seamstress, poor, and starving alone?
Alexander’s voice was calm and brimming with the understanding that came from years of experience. He changed her statement around. “If you stay, how will that choice affect the whole? That is why I wished to talk to ye. I want ye tae imagine what life might truly be like. Ye cannot marry someone out o’ fear or ‘cause ye have to. It will create discord fer us all. If this union is tae be, it must come from a desire to work together through life. Committing oneself to duty an’ family an’ tradition is as noble an’ rewardin’ as love. The two are just different an’ breed different kinds o’ lives. Ye need the make sure you are ready to accept the gravity of each choice as a whole.”
Rosalie felt panic tighten like a fist around her heart. It was difficult to imagine teamwork between herself and Enoch. To be with him would make her a slave, and yet, she could see what Alexander was saying. She would endure him and do her part so that she could raise her children, care for her Magda, and nourish her friendship with Anna. She swallowed. She didn’t know if she could ever accept Enoch’s treatment of her.
“If I leave, I’ll never talk tae or see Anna an’ Magda again.”
The color drained from her face. The words came out dazed.
Alexander gave her a reassuring smile. “That’s no’ necessarily so, chil’.” He patted her hand. “Sure, ye cannot travel an’ live with us, but we return tae places, an’ ye can share yer lives in letters an’ whatnot. No one’s love will fade fer ye, Rosalie.”
Rosalie looked up and felt relief spread like warmth through her body.
“Ye jus’ need tae think abou’ what’s truly bes’ fer all. No’ Jus’ you.” He looked at her then, and his eyes demanded she accept his words. “An’ no’ jus’ them. Ye cannot choose yer paths based on fear.”
Rosalie chewed on this. Silence passed between them as Alexander puffed his pipe, and Rosalie thought on his words. Their conversation ended when people started rising from their tents to go about their morning tasks.
“I must be getting’ to work.” Alexander stretched with a mighty groan. His bones cracked as he lengthened his torso.
“Thank ye.” Rosalie hoped he could see she meant it. He was the first person not to pressure her towards their will.
An ancient hand gripped her shoulder. His smile reached his eyes. “Remember to keep the faith. All will turn ou’ as it should.” The older man turned to leave. “One way or another.”
It was quieter morning than usual. Enoch hovered over where Alexander worked, mending the pots and pans. Rosalie watched a while in curiosity.
Alexander’s face remained stoic, the lines of his eyes smoothing to an unreadable mask. Enoch’s, however, distorted with pent-up frustration. She wondered if they’d argued and issued a silent prayer… it wasn’t about her. The last thing she wanted was for Enoch to take his anger out on her. Relief swept over Rosalie as she watched Enoch storm from camp on horseback.
Alexander watched after him for some time, his face still unreadable. He turned and met Rosalie’s eyes. She blushed, embarrassed at being caught spying. Alexander just smiled. It was a worn, weak smile, unlike the genuine joy expressed earlier. Rosalie tried to return it but feared it came out sickly. She rose and busied herself until Anna awoke.
To Rosalie’s amazement, Magda seemed to have disappe
ared. The young woman would catch a glimpse of her or hear her cracked commands to other women, but the moment Rosalie pursued her, she vanished like a ghost. It was a relief to know Magda was avoiding her. The last thing she wanted was more prying eyes on her.
Anna awoke with dark circles under her eyes. The morning commotion died, and the camp numbers slimmed to a small handful as everyone set off in search of work. There were no words between them. The secret seemed to make Anna ill, sapping the rosy bloom from her cheeks and the carefree smile from her lips.
Under any other circumstance, a day without Magda breathing down her neck and an unsupervised work trip with her best friend would seem like a dream. The thick fog complimented Rosalie’s pensive melancholy and Anna’s passive-aggressive brooding.
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