Gypsy Spirits

by Marianne Spitzer

  GYPSY SPIRITS

  By Marianne Spitzer

  © February 2012

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events, locations, or organizations are purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced without the written consent of the author.

  Acknowledgements

  There are many people I would like to thank for their help and understanding while I wrote this book, but first and foremost I want to thank God for all His blessings. I also wish to thank my family and friends for their understanding while I disappeared into my writing world. Last, but by no means least, I wish to thank my friend, Linda Thomsen, for the critique and editing help.

  ***

  Dedication

  The Gypsy Spirits trilogy is dedicated to the memory of my mom, Anna (born Annamarie), who shared stories about her life in Bavaria and her memories of the carnival her ancestors owned. They may or may not have been Gypsies. Since her memories end at age six when the carnival disbanded, they are limited. I incorporated some of those memories and family stories into my trilogy.

  GYPSY SPIRITS

  By Marianne Spitzer

  Chapter One: Annamarie and Daniel

  His face twisted in rage. “You bitch,” shouted Daniel as he headed for the kitchen door.

  Having had enough of his disrespect and running around at all hours with his friends, Annamarie’s anger boiled to the surface. Her green eyes flashed with anger. Hands clenched at her sides she said, “Dahma Aminas Peaz Nitney.”

  Turning back to face her, his eyes opened wide. “What the hell was that?”

  “My Gypsy curse,” her words shot back, “and now you’ll find out what it’s like when you treat me this way.” She stepped forward to meet him eye to eye.

  Daniel and Annamarie were quarreling again. She loved him madly, but it had taken less than a month to see their marriage was going to be difficult at best. Nothing she could do would keep him home nights, if he decided the spirits in the woods were active, and he and his friends needed to investigate. It was also an excuse to drink to excess.

  Dressed in a dark gray suit that brought out the depth of his blue eyes, Annamarie almost forgave him when she looked up into those eyes--almost. She couldn’t, not this time. Daniel had pushed her too far.

  “Your cold words and actions show me more each day how you feel. Spirits don’t exist. They’re only in your mind. It’s madness.” She stood her ground and glared at him.

  He headed toward the door laughing. Turning back, he said, “What did I ever see in you?” Before she could answer, he slammed the door in her face.

  ***

  “Why would she talk about curses with spirits roaming the woods? I’ve told her they’re out there wandering around. They’ll be after me,” Daniel said aloud. His hands trembled with fear.

  Seeing the tops of the oak trees in the distance, he had an overwhelming feeling of foreboding. The tree tops swayed in the wind, yet he couldn’t feel a breeze. “I knew it,” he mumbled, “the spirits are walking. They’re coming for me.”

  Daniel started his Jeep and sped out of the drive headed for work.

  ***

  It was hot even for July. Annamarie stomped into the living room. She threw herself on the ugly green brocade sofa, “I hate this room.”

  The heavy, dark mahogany tables matched her mood. Hitting the sofa pillow she thought, why should Daniel’s mother be allowed to furnish my house? Maureen’s taste is horrid.

  She needed to cool off, and leave for work. Standing, she moved closer to the air blowing from the window air conditioner. It cooled her body, but not her temper. Annamarie fumed out loud, “I can’t believe he did this again. He acts heartless and walks out. I’m sick of it.”

  ***

  The hot, humid air intensified Daniel’s anger. His hands stuck to the wheel and drops of sweat formed on his forehead. When he heard the siren and saw the red flashing light behind him, he was ready to explode.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “I hope that’s Steve and not the sheriff.”

  “What’s your hurry, son?” the sheriff said peering into the car.

  “I’m late for work.” Daniel’s fist hit the passenger seat.

  “Doing 42 in a 25 residential zone isn’t the way to get there on time. Now you’re going to be later.” The sheriff slowly walked back to his patrol car for his ticket book.

  “Who cares? My dad will blame you,” Daniel shouted after him.

  “Let him. The Logan family contributes quite a lot to the city’s coffers, mostly from you and your friends.”

  “I couldn’t care less.” Daniel shrugged and shot an angry look at the sheriff.

  “Keep mouthing off and I’ll drag you to jail in cuffs.”

  “Try it, Richardson. My dad will have your job.”

  “Sure, he can try,” the sheriff smirked taking his time writing the ticket and walking around Daniel’s Jeep to be sure nothing was out of place.

  Daniel’s sweaty hands slipped while he tried to hold onto the steering wheel. “Hurry up Richardson, I don’t have all day.”

  “I do. Why don’t you and that Frant kid do the town a favor and leave? One or both of you are going to kill an innocent person one day.” He finished writing the ticket.

  “I live here, it’s my town,” Daniel said.

  “Don’t ever forget kid, this is my town, too. Your old man doesn’t scare me. Here’s your ticket. Have a nice day. Drive safely,” the sheriff said with a grin.

  Daniel threw the ticket on the floor and sped away.

  ***

  Annamarie tried to forget about the Gypsy curse when she entered the garage. She loved her car more than she loved Daniel when they first met. If she hadn’t fallen in love with him, she might have married him for the car alone.

  Turning the key, the engine roared to life. The hum of the engine brightened Annamarie’s difficult morning a bit. She said aloud, “Daniel may try to belittle me, but this is my car and at least I’m in control here.” Her mind wandered back to the night she received her beloved candy apple red 1957 Chevy Bel-Air.

  It was a cold, snowy January evening and Daniel’s twenty-first birthday party. His father called him outside to see his gift. All the party goers followed him. A brand new, bright blue, 1966 Jeep CJ-4 sat in the drive. Daniel stared, speechless probably for the first time in his life. Whatever fears usually preyed on his mind and brought out his melancholy moods were nowhere in sight. For a while, at least, the spirits that haunted his thoughts were overshadowed.

  “Wow, Father, Mom.” Daniel stood there in the cold and snow, his eyes never leaving the Jeep. His father handed him the keys.

  Daniel glanced at Annamarie. “You might as well have my car baby since you’ll be part of the family in six months.” He tossed her the keys. She stared at the keys and then at the Chevy. The man she loved more than anything in the world had given her what had been, until a few minutes earlier, his most prized possession. Annamarie’s eyes sparkled with joy.

  ***

  Her thoughts returned to the present and tears stung her eyes. She tried to forget the argument they just had. They were having too many. She realized she was nearly at work and needed to dry her eyes. She couldn’t go into the office looking as if she’d been crying again.

  She forced herself to stop thinking about the past and concentrate on work. Her difficulties with Daniel would still be there when she arrived home.

  Walking into the office, she saw her boss.

  Mr. Hanson said, “Morning Annamarie, Daniel called. He seemed annoyed you weren’t here. Is everything okay?”

  “Umm
yes, I’ve lots of work to catch up on.”

  “Great idea, we have quite a few invoices, and I have several letters to dictate.”

  “Be right there.”

  Working helped Annamarie hold onto her sanity. She loved her receptionist job at Hanson’s Dairy. The only drawback to working next to the phone was Daniel could call whenever the mood suited him.

  His fourth call before lunch ignited her anger, “Leave me alone. I’m working. Why don’t you try doing your job?” Ignoring his plea to save him from the horror he knew was coming, she hung up on him. Mumbling to herself, “the only person who can help you with your fear is a psychiatrist.”

  Three more calls after lunch infuriated her more. Each time she heard his voice, she hung up. At five o’clock, she headed out, bracing herself for the summer heat and the problems waiting at home.

  ***

  Annamarie realized she never should’ve married Daniel. Young and in love with love, she ignored Daniel’s flaws. He was immature even though he was older, but she’d fallen for him the moment she met him. She couldn’t resist Daniel’s mesmerizing eyes and thick, dark brown hair. She had never seen anyone look that sexy in a pair of jeans and a black leather jacket. He was almost six feet tall. Annamarie, a petite five foot two, could barely reach up to hug his neck.

  Obvious to everyone except Annamarie, Daniel never wanted to marry her. At nineteen and Daniel twenty-one, they were both too young. Two years earlier when Annamarie was ready to break up with him for flirting with an old girlfriend, Daniel blurted out, “I’m sorry, marry me.” To keep her from leaving, the proposal was his last desperate act. His controlling nature backfired when she accepted.

  ***

  Turning the corner onto Juniper Lane, she saw their small ranch-style house. People rarely moved in or out of Timmus Woods. When this house went on the market due to a job transfer, Daniel’s mom, Maureen, grabbed it before anyone else saw it. Maureen sold real estate and thought it was a perfect starter home for Daniel and Annamarie. She and Daniel’s father, George, purchased it for them as a wedding gift.

  Soft cream siding framed deep burgundy shutters and window boxes. Annamarie’s mom took care of all the planting before Daniel and Annamarie’s wedding. By the time they moved into the house in early July, the soft gold and orange marigolds and double blossom moss roses in rainbow colors blossomed. It was a lovely surprise. Now, nearly a month later, the window boxes burst with bright pink and purple petunias.

  Annamarie entered the house to the hum of soft music and the buzz of the air conditioner. A dozen yellow roses graced the center of the dining room table. The glow of candles sparkled against their best china. Even the drab white walls Maureen insisted would make the rooms look larger appeared attractive. The aroma of spicy meatballs and sweet Marinara sauce with peppers was unmistakable, but Daniel couldn’t boil water. She must be dreaming.

  “Hi, baby,” Daniel said when she entered the kitchen. “I picked up our favorites from Mario’s.”

  “What’s going on? What are you up to?” she asked.

  Daniel took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. Please remove it. I’ll do my best to treat you right.”

  She stared. “Remove what?”

  “The curse, of course,” His eyes pleaded.

  “Curse?” The details of their morning argument slipped her mind. Remembering, she laughed.

  “This isn’t funny,” Daniel glared. “I’ve had one hell of a day.”

  Without waiting for her to respond, Daniel began to explain. “That stupid sheriff had the nerve to give me a speeding ticket five minutes after I left the house. Our idiot secretary couldn’t change the copy machine toner. I had to do it and it leaked everywhere. Then my lunch disappeared from the refrigerator. I know the spirits took it.”

  “That can happen to anyone, and there are no spirits.”

  “It gets worse. I lost a client when I called the man stupid during a phone conversation. Father was able to smooth the client’s feelings by telling him I was in therapy, and then he suggested I do just that--get therapy. I had enough, left for the day and backed into my parents’ car. There was plenty of room. The wind picked up and bang, I hit the car.”

  “Oh no, you hit your dad’s car?”

  “His car is in the shop,” he said nibbling on garlic bread. “He and mom drove to work together.” Daniel’s parents had converted an old Victorian style home into offices. One side of the building housed “Logan Insurance” and the other “Maureen’s Realty.”

  “Then you hit your mom’s car?”

  “Yeah, but it’s no big deal. You know how she is.”

  “She’s too good to you.”

  Daniel laughed and said, “Maybe, but I saw her before I came home and she said we’d take care of it. Quit worrying about the car. Let’s get back to what’s important.”

  “What?”

  “Please, remove the curse.”

  Annamarie fought the urge to laugh. He did appear extremely grim. She touched his cheek. “Curse removed.”

  She headed for the bedroom to change clothes. A quiet chuckle was all she had time for before returning to the dining room. He served her dinner with a smile and they had a lovely evening.

  Daniel sat down on the sofa next to Annamarie and gazed deeply into her eyes. “I know we’ve been having problems lately. I’ve been a jerk, but it’s hard to fight the spirits in the woods without having to deal with your Gypsy curses, too.”

  She pulled back. “Please don’t start with the ridiculous stories about your spirits in the woods. Everyone knows there are no spirits. You’re the only one who sees them and usually when you’re drunk. I don’t want to argue with you after such a nice evening so can we please table this spirit talk for another night?” She tapped her foot waiting for an answer.

  “Okay, but there are spirits out there especially near the cabin and Grandfather Logan’s house.”

  She thought he apparently lost it a bit after his rough day. His grandfather’s house was one of the most beautiful and peaceful places in Timmus Woods.

  Daniel asked, “Where in the world did you learn to place a Gypsy curse on someone?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I come from a long line of Gypsies.”

  His eyes open wide, “I thought your ancestors had a large carnival in Germany that played during Oktoberfest.” Daniel followed her into the bedroom while he talked.

  Undressing for bed, she walked toward Daniel saying she would explain, but she was tired and going to lie down. He lay next to her listening intently.

  Annamarie tried to explain. “If you go back two, three, four hundred years, or more it all began with a wagon and a few performers.”

  Daniel raised his eyebrows and whispered, “Gypsies.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  She’d never heard anything about having Gypsies as ancestors, but she let Daniel think what he wanted. He deserved it. Her ancestors owned a carnival, but she had no idea when the carnival began, knowing only it disbanded in 1930. She always assumed in the early days it traveled around with horse-drawn wagons and performers in a circus-type show. By the mid-1800s, the carnival settled down in Bavaria and only played larger towns during Oktoberfest. The rest of the year the family worked at whatever jobs they found.

  Annamarie’s grandfather suffered a serious injury in the war, and the injuries ultimately took his life and ended the carnival.

  Her mom could merely relate the stories she heard from Uncle Andreas. Annamarie met him once when she was nine. She remembered when Uncle Andreas placed his hand on her head saying she had hair the color of night and the eyes of his grandmother who danced during the carnival season. Annamarie’s eyes had always changed with her moods, going from deep green to hazel and every shade in between.

  Annamarie laid her head back on her pillow and sighed. Maybe, just maybe, she had rattled off a curse. The thought stayed with her while she drifted off to sleep.

  Ch
apter Two: Nightmares or Memories

  The camp-fire cast shadows on the old wagons parked nearby. An elderly man sat on a barrel, playing the violin. Other men and women sat near the fire clapping to the music floating on the night air. A dark haired young girl danced around the flames, her bright green eyes sparkling in the firelight. She wore a long dress of many colors, sewn by hand, colored ribbons pulled up her hair. She smiled and held her hand out to Annamarie.

  Annamarie woke screaming.

  Jolted from his sleep, Daniel jumped out of bed. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  She sat up in the middle of the bed, her voice anxious, “I had a nightmare. I saw myself dancing, but I also saw myself watching me dance. Then the one dancing held out her hand to me.”

  “Creepy!” Daniel started to laugh, “Serves you right for putting a curse on me.”

  “I didn’t put a curse on you. It was just gibberish because you had me so upset. I’m not a Gypsy, so how could I do that? I only wanted to get your attention.”

  “You’re going crazy. Don’t I have enough trouble with the spirits without you bringing a new one? What if the spirits here don’t like you summoning Gypsy spirits?”

  “I don’t understand why you’re acting this way. You were so different last night. Why have you changed again? You’re the one losing your mind. There are no spirits in the woods, and I certainly didn’t conjure up any.”

  Unfortunately, it seemed his promise of changing was short lived. Daniel would always believe in his “spirits” and find any reason to bolster his conviction. Her only hope was to have him believe either his spirits weren’t real or her spirit was stronger.

  My spirit, Annamarie thought. Perhaps I am going crazy.

  “Let’s stop arguing and eat breakfast,” she suggested in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  “Okay, I’ll make coffee,” Daniel said. She made a face and said she’d make tea. Pulling her old pink robe around her, she walked into the kitchen. Daniel began to laugh at her.