Curse Of The Marhime

by Dayana Knight

  Pita lounged, wrapped in yet another of their companionable silences. It amazed her how they could fall silent without any discomfort and just be together. She glanced over at Niko. His eyes closed, but he was not asleep, merely resting. She marveled at how she knew that, but she did.

  The pilot interrupted her thoughts as he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen. We will be landing in Munich in about twenty minutes. Please be sure your seats are in the upright position and all trays are stowed properly. Please do not release your seatbelts until the plane comes to a complete stop and the seatbelts signs have been extinguished. Thank you for flying Tarom, and please enjoy your stay in Munich.”

  As the flight attendant then began announcing gates for flight changes, Niko stirred beside her.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “How about we see some attractions? The layover is about eight hours, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I figure we’ve got a good six hours to burn and still get back with enough time to board the next departure. Wouldn’t you rather catch up on your beauty rest?” Pita smiled. He looked exhausted, dark circles lined his eyes and the sensuous lips parted in a sleepy smile.

  A fresh burst of energy shot through Pita, awakening the butterflies in her belly. They fluttered and tickled her insides with the anticipation of spending more time with this Hungarian hunk. Even tired, the man the man oozed sexy.

  “No. We can always sleep on the plane. I’d much rather show you some of the sights.” He gently touched her chin and favored her with that boyish grin of his.

  Her heart rolled in her chest and a warm fuzzy feeling burst into her stomach setting the butterflies aflutter once again. God, she wanted to kiss him. Instead, she smiled trying desperately to stave a massive blush that threatened to wash over her and said, “Okay, I’d love for you to introduce me to Munich.”

  ****

  They strolled hand in hand along the Marienplatz also known as St Mary’s Square, the popular pedestrian district located in Center City, Munich. Niko pointed out the eastern most building, Spielzeumuseum, the toy museum.

  “That is the Altes Rathhaus, the old Town Hall, and the world renowned Glockenspiel. The clock plays every day at the eleventh, twelfth, and seventeenth hours.” Niko glanced at his watch. “We’ll be able to hear it at twelve.”

  “It’s beautiful and so old…” Pita absorbed her surroundings like a child in Disneyland for the first time, not knowing where to look first. “I love the gothic architecture, all the spires and towers.”

  “Yes, the renovations have focused on trying to keep the fifteenth century style and artistry of the original structure.” Niko explained. “Munich means ‘home of the monks’, it was originally established as a Benedictine monastery. Today it’s famous for its beer houses and Oktoberfest celebrations.”

  Pita smiled. “You are quite the tour guide. “

  “I’ve been through this city many times.” He laughed and squeezed her hand. “Come, we’ll wander down to the Viktualienmarkt which is the marketplace and get something to eat. You can’t come to Munich and not taste the traditional Bavarian foods and, of course, we must stop in the beer garden.”

  Pita stifled her nervous jitters, reminding herself that they weren’t teenagers out on their first date. But as they explored Munich together, anxiety, excitement, and the comfortable feelings of being with someone whom it felt as if she’d known forever, played tug of war with her overzealous emotions.

  Pita basked in Niko’s Bohemian freedom and the way he seemed to blend into any environment. His knowledge of Munich allowed her to relax and enjoy her time in the city and with him.

  “You seem to belong here…it’s obvious you’ve been here many times.”

  “Yes, many flights from the States stop here so, I’ve had the opportunity to get familiar with the city but, I’m enjoying it much more today,” he winked and squeezed her hand.

  She felt no pressure or need to put up airs with him. Pita smiled, gave his hand a tug, and pointed at yet another architectural wonder.

  Niko stopped and turned her to face him. He took her into his arms. An ocean of people continued to move around them as he bent his head to kiss her. Pita felt like hail in a summer storm in his arms. Her tumultuous desire for him thundered through her while she feared she would melt into a puddle as his hands traveled slowly up her arms and held the sides of her face warming her to the very core. Her knees weakened and threatened to give way as his tongue caressed her slightly parted lips. Something awoke deep within her. Something wild and warm twisted reaching outward to his heat. Then the kiss ended and his eyes smiled warmly into hers. He simply took her hand, once more, and they began to walk.

  Pita struggled to get control of her emotions. But deep within her a primal desire had awakened, like a hungry animal from a long slumber, it splayed deadly claws and flexed strong muscles, but the sensation faded as they ambled along the Marienplatz and with it, her confusion.

  ****

  Perched on a hardwood bench in the cool shade of ancient Chestnut trees in the Hirschgarten, they shared a litre of dark beer and a platter of cheese, sausage, and vegetables. Nearby rose the majestic Nymphenberg Castle.

  Pita nibbled on a piece of cheese and then took a sip of the beer Niko offered. Wiping the foam from her lips with a paper napkin, she opened her mouth to speak just as the Glockenspiel began to chime. The tones reverberated through the air and the percussions shimmered over her skin like small breaths of wind. She glanced at Niko and her heart melted at the warmth that radiated from his handsome face. His eyes held the smile his lips displayed. She grinned back and nudged his leg with the toe of her shoe under the table.

  “Look at you all smug and content,” she laughed.

  “I knew the reaction you would have when the bells tolled.” He chuckled. “The look on you face was priceless. The cute way your mouth formed a little ‘o.’” He reached out and traced his thumb across her bottom lip, and then brushed a stray lock of her hair back from her face.

  Pita’s heart beat faster at his touch. In an effort to stave her tremendous desire to hop into his lap and continue the kiss of earlier she said, “I’d forgotten all about them.” She popped another bite of sausage into her mouth and chewed it, savoring the spicy flavor. After swallowing the morsel she continued, “Thank you. I don’t think I’d have even wandered out of the airport…well…” she grinned. “I may have taken in some tour or something, but this is wonderful.” She fanned a hand in a wide arc around them. “It’s so festive. It’s like Octoberfest every day here. The people, laughter, celebration, food, and oh…the company, a guided tour would never have been this much fun.” She laughed.

  Niko reached out and touched her face. Pita turned her cheek into his warm hand. Once again, she sensed the low static thrum of energy, but instead of confusion and anxiety, the sensation ebbed pleasant, familiar.

  “I hope you find what you seek in Romania.” Niko said softly.

  Pita’s smile drooped into a frown. “I want to know who I am, where I came from.” She turned her eyes down for a moment. “Though my parents hadn’t kept the fact I am adopted a secret, I never cared to question who I was and where I came from. Not that I wasn’t curious, it just wasn’t important then. Now it nags at me. I feel that I can’t move on with my life until I know.”

  Loud singing and laughter cut into their intimacy. They both turned toward the source of the brisk German ditty. An older couple danced energetically to the music, a Polka, and both sloshed beer without care.

  Pita’s smiled brightened. “This place makes it hard to be glum.”

  “Yes, it does.” Nodding in agreement, Niko took a slug of beer, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up. “C’mon.”

  He led her into the crowd of revelers where they melded into an ocean of brightly colored Olde Heidelberg style peasant dresses and knickers and danced until they were breathless.

  Chapter 14

  The practiced voice of the guide cheerfully pointed out a multitude
of interests within the massive Great Hall of Nymphenberg Castle. The group formed a wide semi-circle around her. Pita and Niko stood at the far end closest to the exit.

  Niko poked a finger into Pita’s ribs. She tossed him a sideways glance. He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth as if he’d been hung. She giggled covering her mouth so the people nearest them wouldn’t hear. He nodded toward the exit, pulling her in the general direction. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered. “I want to show you the gardens. At this rate we’ll never get there.”

  Pita smiled and followed him. She couldn’t remember ever having this much fun, naturally, leaving out the fact that she was in a foreign country acting like a love struck tourist. Well…maybe not love struck, but she really liked him. He felt so comfortable, though she wasn’t naïve enough to think that they were a couple, but just two people who’d bonded on a long plane trip and opted to take in the sites together. Still…a girl could hope, couldn’t she? The reality of the situation unwittingly began to seep through her wishful thoughts. They would part company soon enough but she wasn’t ready to deal with it yet.

  No. I’m going to enjoy every minute I have with this man. I won’t think about the goodbyes until it is absolutely necessary. Until then…well, just enjoy.

  Bright blue skies and a panoramic view of canals and forest greeted them as they exited the building jarring Pita from her dismal thoughts. She squinted in the brightness of the mild day. Niko steered her off the palace terrace and toward a colorful Baroque Garden on the western side bursting with every kind of bloom imaginable. Roses lit the walkways in colorful sprays of whites, pinks, corals, and reds, while magenta blooms lay boldly in beds at every turn. Pita stood awed by the amazing flower fountains. Jabbing Niko, she pointed at the watery walls cascading glimmering umbrellas over lavish flowers. He grinned enjoying her wondrous glee.

  Statuary of Greek gods graced walkways throughout the gardens, while intricately designed concrete benches lined the paths and golden lanterns graced pedestals along the castle’s facade.

  “This place is amazing!” Pita declared affecting a smooth, 360◦ spin.

  Glancing around, she noticed several of the paths leading away from the main canal that bisected the center of the property. Forest bordered the extensive park and walkways led different directions from the large, circular, main fountain. People sauntered along the walkways, many with cameras hanging about their necks taking in the peaceful sights. At her back stood the castle, and stretched as far as the eye could see lay sculptured lawns, fountains, hedges, and gardens surrounded by thick green forest.

  Niko led her down a wooded pathway with smaller garden displays pocketed here and there. The path emptied into a small clearing with a pavilion at the center surrounded by formal gardens, several pools, and hedges situated in a secluded wooded area.

  Pita sucked in a breath laced with the perfume of a multitude of flowers and greenery too riotous to identify any one specific scent, though the effect was not at all overwhelming. The trickle of the fountains blended with the chatter of birds and insects.

  “Wow. This is beautiful.”

  “It’s called Magdalenenklause and was built around 1725 by Joseph Effner, who was the Bavarian court architect. He built several small palaces bordering the main castle. This one is the most beautiful, I think.”

  Pita admired the grotto style of the chapel and its monastic simplicity. “It didn’t stand up to time as well as the other buildings.” She observed.

  Niko smiled. “That’s just it. The hermitage was purposely built in the style of an artificial ruin. Amazing, is it not?”

  She nodded, “Ah…so it’s supposed to appear older than all the other architecture. That is interesting.” She realized she’d been so enthralled with the scenery she hadn’t noticed that they had the place all to themselves. Odd… no other people were enjoying the secluded chapel.

  A light breeze tickled through the leaves above and birds flitted about, but for the most part, it was quiet and sedate here. Pita noticed a subtle change in the light filtering through the ancient trees. Perhaps a cloud passed over the sun, she thought. Niko stiffened beside her. She felt tension emanate from him. A shadow crossed her periphery, when she turned to look, though, there was nothing. Her skin tingled as if someone had draped warm silk over her then pulled it away.

  She slid her gaze back around to Niko who scanned the darkened, tree-lined edge of the clearing, then turned his eyes on her. For a brief moment, Pita saw darkness slide behind his eyes. The irises shifted in color, amber hues bled into the hazel, a glow similar to that of an animal caught in headlights and then it was gone. His body language remained still, alert, but he visibly relaxed and pulled her into his arms. The chill that had settled over her seconds ago melted away as he bent his head to kiss her, the moment forgotten.

  ****

  Pita mulled over several emotions as she walked across the tarmac to board yet another plane, a very small plane. Weary, nervous, and a bit lonely, she trudged closer to the aircraft.

  Niko had business in Bucharest and then was going on to the Transylvanian mountains, where his family resided. At the check-in counter, they’d exchanged phone numbers and a rushed promise to get in touch as soon as they both settled.

  It seemed a piece of her left with him. Strange, considering they’d not known each other very long, but it was how she felt. Pita already missed the easy companionship they shared and the quiet conversations. She had never experienced that type of intimacy with anyone before except maybe Sasha.

  Because of the close relationship Pita’s parents shared with Sasha’s family, it only seemed natural that the girls would bond. Not knowing the details of the ties, Pita assumed her parents had met the Kayne’s when they’d moved to town from Romania. In light of the revelations concerning her birth, something…doubt?−no that wasn’t quite right− growing concern? Yes, that was it. Concern gnawed at the edge of her mind that there might be more to it—especially with Sasha’s mother’s familiarity with the village depicted in the photos, and then combined with the fact that Pita happened to have been born not far from where Sasha had been.

  Pita shook the thoughts off. Her mind flew in too many directions. She turned her thoughts back to Niko.

  They’d had a wonderful day in Munich. They even had time to visit the English Gardens after the castle. Roses were one of Pita’s favorite flowers, and never had she seen such a vast variety of the beautiful, fragrant blooms, and such a variety of hues. Niko had taken her in his arms and kissed her in that garden. Pita’s body tightened at the memory. Their souls seemed to move together, as if they had risen up out into the open air and danced together. She shivered. Never had anyone made her feel the way Niko did. She couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever see each other again. People promised to keep in touch all the time, then life pulled them in different directions. She eyed the miniscule size of the plane she was about to board and sighed.

  One problem at a time.

  Shaking off the melancholy thoughts once more, she considered her next adventure. Tomas Stepes, Sasha’s cousin, would meet her in another hour or so. Curiosity flamed her imagination. Sasha told her he was a couple of years older then them but couldn’t describe him because he was only a boy when she’d left Romania. Pita chewed her lip trying to conjure up a male version of Sasha. The dark eyes and dark hair. Was he tall, thin, heavy? Oh jeez, did he even speak English?

  That reminded her of the need to freshen up, but there hadn’t been enough time before take off. She sighed. One more hour and I’ll be there. Twenty-three hours, she’d spent almost one full day in an airplane. Pita sagged a bit as she waited to board the last plane. Anxious for a hot shower and a nice comfortable bed, she prayed there would not be another delay.

  A commotion caught her attention, interrupting her thoughts and pulling her attention back to the tarmac. Pita realized that, at last, the line moved and the boarding had begun. Shuffling ahead in
the line, she finally made her way to her seat on the small plane. A Turboprop whatever… She glanced around before she sat down. The realization of how small the plane was—that there were no more than fifty or sixty seats— sent a nervous jolt deep into her belly. At least the aircraft looked new, and that comforted her.

  Pita settled into her seat and fished in her oversized purse for yet another novel. As she opened the book to find her place, a large group of people boarded, their presence filled a large section of the plane. The entire atmosphere changed. It suddenly seemed as if she were sitting on an immigrant, farm labor bus.

  One woman stood out in the crowd. She entered the plane ramrod straight, dark head held high, and smooth though mature, face set stern. Pita thought of her third grade teacher. A no-nonsense spinster with a pinched face and a quick temper, who snapped one mean ruler. She demanded respect and allowed no shenanigans. Fortunately, Pita had never been on the receiving end of that ruler. This woman seemed to demand respect and, in turn, act as their source of well-being in an environment in which they were not totally comfortable— a sort of…Matriarch. She wore confidence like a heavy-scented perfume. It oozed from her. Their dress was eastern European in style. Blouses and shirts were bold-colored silk such as yellow and red. The women’s skirts were loud with flowered or striped patterns. Though wrinkled and well worn, they appeared clean and proud people. They did not heed the normal passenger decorum, but instead, some sat upon old beat up pieces of luggage in the aisles, others leaned over seats, but all attention was on what the Matriarch was saying. The group spoke no English and acted suspicious, alienated though seemed to find comfort in her nearness.

  The flight attendant shooed the renegade baggage squatters into their proper seats with some difficulty, but managed to convince them to buckle in with a promise that they could resume the seating arrangement once the pilot reached cruise level and the seat belt sign turned off.

  Pita considered, since the flight length was so short, they probably wouldn’t turn off the ‘fasten your seatbelt’ signs until after they’d landed in Bacau. Smiling, she was sure that’s what the flight attendant counted on.