“Hello, Mrs. Winslow. Good evening, sir.”
“Hello, Greg.” Lance came over and shook his hand. “How are your parents?”
“They’re just fine. Gabby tells me you’re leaving soon.”
“That’s right. We’ll be going to the States tomorrow.”
“I wish I could go. If you go to California, do you think you’ll see any movie stars?”
“I don’t think we’ll do much stargazing.” Jo smiled. “It’ll be mostly work, and plenty of it.”
Greg turned his attention to Gabby and smiled in admiration. “You look great, Gabby.”
“Why, thank you, Greg.”
“A new outfit?”
“Yes. You really like it?”
“It’s the cat’s pajamas, as they say in the States. Are you ready?”
“I’m all ready.”
Gabby got her hat, and as the two went out the door, Lance called out, “We’ll be waiting up for you. Be home before eleven.”
Jo waved at the young people and closed the door, then turned to her husband. “I believe you’re more nervous than she is about her first date.”
Lance came over and put his arms around her. “You women don’t understand what it’s like to be a father trying to keep a fifteen-year-old girl in line.”
Jo leaned against him. “Tell me about it. Is it really all that hard?”
“Almost as hard as keeping a beautiful woman like you in line. Come on. Let’s go finish packing.”
****
“Greg, slow down. You’re driving too fast.”
“Fast! Why, this isn’t fast at all.” He was proud of his bright red roadster. The car was so small he had no trouble reaching around and putting his arm around her. “You’re out with the best driver in England. Relax and enjoy yourself.”
Gabby did not resist and leaned against him. The roar of the small engine made it necessary for them to shout against the wind, and as he sped along the narrow, winding road, they encountered little traffic. She liked the touch of his arm around her, and she was feeling very excited. He had taken her to dinner at a very nice restaurant in downtown Hastings, and then they had gone to see The Gold Rush, starring Charlie Chaplin. They had both laughed themselves weak over the comedian’s antics, and afterward they had gotten ice cream before heading home.
They shouted at each other over the noise of the engine and the racing wind. When they were less than a quarter of a mile from the street where the Winslows lived, Greg made such a sharp turn that Gabby had to grasp wildly at the frame of the car. “Where are you going?”
“Why, I couldn’t take you home from your first date without a trip to Lovers’ Grove.”
Gabby instantly grew alert. Lovers’ Grove was a large, heavily wooded park. During the daylight hours nannies pushed babies in their perambulators along the shady walkways, and at times Gabby had gone there herself looking for specimens for her collections. At night, however, the park was known as a place where young men took unsuspecting young women for their own selfish purposes. “I’m not going to Lovers’ Grove with you,” she protested. “Take me home.”
Greg merely laughed and slowed the car as he followed the serpentine road that led deep into the grove of large trees. “Why, you’re not a little girl,” he said. “It’s not going to kill you.”
But then the headlights picked up some movement, and he muttered, “Blast, somebody’s here!” They got closer. “Looks like a bunch of gypsies.”
Gabby was intrigued by the sight. They were all sitting around a blazing fire, singing a song with a haunting melody. Three wagons were grouped behind the small gathering, and horses grazed on the tall grass nearby. “Come on, Greg. Let’s go visit them.”
“Not on your life!” He shook his head firmly. “They’re thieves and even worse. I’m getting out of here.”
But Gabby opened the door and stepped out, ignoring his protests. “Oh, come on, you’re a grown man, aren’t you?” she mocked him. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid!”
He glared at her and shut off the engine. “This is your idea, not mine,” he complained as he opened his door and got out.
As Gabby approached the small band of gypsies, the music fell silent and a tall man came toward her.
“Good evening. Welcome to our home,” he said in a strongly accented voice, bowing deeply.
Gabby could see by the light of the fire that he was wearing a brilliant yellow shirt with a red kerchief around his neck. Gold earrings hung from his earlobes, and his white teeth flashed against his dark skin.
“We didn’t mean to interrupt, but we saw your fire and heard your singing. It was very beautiful.”
“We are pleased to have you. I am Duke Zanko. You like music? You will hear plenty of music. And if you want your fortune told, my wife can do that. And we have some beautiful jewelry for a beautiful young lady.”
As Gabby and Greg moved closer to the fire, Gabby felt a surge of excitement. She had seen bands of gypsies before in her travels with her parents and had always been curious about their mysterious ways. She looked around the gathering and noted at least a dozen adults and considerably more children. Several of the women held small babies, and their eyes seemed to flash as the two visitors came closer.
“This is my wife, Marissa,” Duke Zanko said, gesturing at a young woman with dark eyes and large gold earrings dangling from her ears. He shrugged his shoulders sadly and said, “I have not had much luck with wives. I’ve worn out two. I got this one young so I could bring her up myself—and teach her to do nothing but please me.”
Marissa laughed, displaying her very white teeth.
“Perhaps you came to visit our camp because of the full moon,” Duke said, looking up through the branches. “Gypsy men and women always fall in love when there’s a full moon, a gypsy moon.” He winked at Greg. “Maybe it’ll work the same for you!”
Greg laughed and Gabby was glad the darkness would cover the red she felt creeping up her face.
Marissa stood up and came closer to Gabby as the rest of the group started talking among themselves and lining up to get a bowlful of something cooking in a large iron pot over the fire. “I married him because he is old and rich,” Marissa told Gabby. “When he dies I will take all his money and find me a strong young man.”
Duke laughed. “You will not find another man like me. Someday you’ll appreciate what you have in me.”
Marissa grinned and took hold of Gabby’s arm. “Come. You will eat with us,” she invited.
“Oh, we couldn’t do that,” Gabby protested, although her mouth was watering as she inhaled the delicious aroma coming from the cooking pot.
“Yes, you will be our guests. Please . . .” Before Gabby could say more, a young woman came over and handed both of them bowls filled with stew.
“Why, thank you,” Gabby said as she and Greg sat down and joined them. They found the stew delicious, and as the rest of the group ate, Duke pulled out his fiddle and began to play. Two other men joined him as they finished eating, one of them on a zither and another on a stringed instrument that neither Greg nor Gabby had seen before.
Several young women began to dance, and they were soon joined by young men. Their shadows cast by the flickering fire flitted across the ground, and the air was filled with laughter and music.
A rather short but well built young man came over to Gabby with his hand extended. His hair was as black as a raven, and his eyes seemed almost as dark. “Come, you dance with me. My name is Pavko.”
“Oh, I can’t dance!”
“Go on,” Greg urged. “You want to be a gypsy? Here’s your chance. Maybe that gypsy moon will bring you happiness.”
Gabby allowed Pavko to pull her up to her feet. She felt self-conscious at first, but soon she found herself relaxing as she learned the simple steps of the dance. All the people watching were clapping their hands, and the music filled the night air. Finally, she pulled away and said, “Thank you. I’m afraid I’m not as good a dancer
as you are.”
Pavko laughed. “You are a wonderful dancer for a gaji.”
“What is a gaji?”
“That is what we call girls who are not gypsies.”
Gabby sat back down beside Greg, and the two visitors listened as the lilting music danced on the warm summer air deep in the grove of tall, ancient trees. During a break in the music, Marissa took Gabby’s hand in her own and said, “I will tell your fortune.”
“I don’t believe in fortune-telling,” Gabby said with an apologetic smile. “I believe people make their own fortunes.” Nevertheless, she did not resist when Marissa started examining the palm of her hand.
“You are going on a long journey. You will meet a man with blond hair.”
Gabby was amused with the familiar prediction.
“Be very careful of him,” Marissa continued. “He will not be good for you. Later you will meet a dark-haired man, and he is the man you want.”
Gabby saw Greg smiling, and she returned it. Gabby pulled some coins out of her purse and thanked the woman.
“We’d better get going,” Greg said. “Your dad will skin me alive if I don’t get you home on time.”
“I’m afraid so.” Gabby started to get to her feet when she noticed a very old woman moving slowly toward her. The small woman wore a scarf over her head and large gold earrings.
“This is Madame Jana,” Duke told her. Intersecting lines formed a network about the woman’s face, and her lips were drawn tightly together. Though her eyes were practically closed, there was a dark glitter that showed she was alert.
“Good evening, Madame Jana,” Gabby said. “How are you?”
The elderly woman did not answer, nor did she move. Gabrielle tried not to squirm under her unsettling gaze. Finally, Zanko said, “She is a Christian. Some say she is a prophet. Very wise.”
Gabby was surprised at his words. She had assumed the whole group believed in fortune-telling and mysterious ways. A silence settled on the group as Madame Jana rested her hand lightly on Gabby’s forehead. Gabby froze, not knowing what the woman would do. The old woman closed her eyes and began to pray for Gabby in a language Gabby could not understand. When she was done, she opened her eyes and seemed to look into the depths of Gabby.
“You are a believer, child. I feel the spirit of Christ in you.”
Gabby’s uneasiness turned to surprise. “Yes, I do believe in Jesus.”
The woman dropped her hand to Gabby’s shoulder. “You will need great courage, daughter,” she said quietly. “A dark time lies before you, but Jesus will never forsake you. When you think all is lost, He will bring you the strength you will need. He will make a way for you through the danger that awaits you.”
With trembling hands she took a gold chain from around her neck and handed it to Gabby. “This is very old,” she said, “and the Lord tells me to give it to you. It is not magic. It is to remind you that you are not alone—that somewhere an old woman is praying for you when you feel that all is lost. Go with Jesus and do not fear.” As she turned and moved away, the group resumed their quiet chatter.
“She is a strange one,” Duke said as the woman disappeared into the darkness. “But I tell you, she is a praying woman. She never gives up! Do not let her words fall to the ground.”
Gabby had laughed at Marissa’s fortune-telling, but she was truly frightened by this woman’s prediction and told Greg she was ready to go. They said good-night to Duke and his wife and went back to the car.
“Well, that was definitely strange,” he said as they left the area. “What did you make of the old woman?”
“I don’t know, Greg,” she said as she touched the gold chain the woman had given her.
“We’re lucky they didn’t rob us blind. They’re all thieves, you know.”
She did not answer as Greg drove out of the park and headed for the Winslows’ house. When he stopped in front of her house, she opened the door and said, “You don’t have to come in, Greg. Good night.”
“Hey, wait a minute—”
“Good night, Greg.”
Somehow the old woman’s words and her prayer had shaken Gabby. She had thought she might like a good-night kiss on her first real date, but now she was preoccupied with other disturbing thoughts. She entered the house and found her parents drinking coffee in the kitchen.
“Well, that wasn’t very late after all,” her father said with a smile.
“Did you have a good time, dear?” her mother asked.
“Oh yes, it was very nice.” Gabby had an impulse to tell them about the group of people at Lovers’ Grove, but for some reason she did not. She had not had a chance to look carefully at the gift that Madame Jana had given her, but somehow she knew she would not forget this night or the necklace for a long time.
“You’d better go to bed, dear,” Jo said. “We have to leave early to get you to the wharf to board the ship for Amsterdam.”
“Yes, I know. Good night, Mum. Good night, Dad.”
She kissed her parents, went upstairs, and took the necklace out of her purse. At the end of the gold chain hung an old coin, nearly an inch in diameter. It was worn thin, but she could still make out the figure of a woman wearing a long robe and some words in a foreign language under the figure. She held it in her hand and thought about the old woman’s strange prayer. Gabby quickly pulled her diary out of her desk and began to write down the woman’s words of warning and of encouragement as closely as she could remember. She could not understand why she was so moved by the woman, but after she had gotten ready for bed, she got down on her knees and prayed for courage. For some reason she could not fathom, she found herself praying for Madame Jana.
Glancing out the window, she saw the huge silver disk and thought of Greg’s words. “That’s a gypsy moon.” For a long time she stared at the argent globe before finally dropping off into a deep sleep.
****
“It won’t be long, dear,” Jo said. “We’ll be back before you know it.” They were standing on the wharf, and the blast of the boat’s loud whistle had already given the first warning for its imminent departure. She kissed Gabby, then stood back and watched as Lance put his arms around her. He held her tightly before finally releasing her.
“Don’t forget about that trip to Paris when we get back,” he said.
“I won’t, Daddy.” Gabby felt a strange reluctance to walk up the gangplank and board the ship. It was not unusual, for she always hated saying good-bye to her parents. Still, this time something seemed to hold her back. She had a sudden desire to cry out, “Take me with you. Let me go with you!” but she knew that was impossible. She turned and walked up the gangplank and found a place along the rail and waited as the last passengers boarded. As the ship slowly pulled out, she looked down at her parents and waved. They waved back, and she could hear her father calling out, “Don’t forget Paris when we get back!”
She called back but knew they could not hear her, for right then the ship’s whistle gave another loud blast. Then it slowly turned as the tugboat pulled it out away from the dock. “I hate good-byes,” she muttered. “Why do people ever have to say good-bye?”
CHAPTER TWO
A Summer Interlude
As Gabby pulled the brush through her hair, she remembered the first time she had visited in the Netherlands. She had been only nine years old, and she had come expecting to see a land filled with windmills and tulips and wooden shoes. She had thought she’d see people in fancy costumes looking like the colorful pictures she had seen in her storybooks, and treelined canals and tall, thin houses with fancy gables.
A smile touched her broad lips as she thought about how disappointed she had been to find that no one wore wooden shoes. On that visit and subsequent ones, she had discovered that no other country in Europe offered so much variety or so many picturesque sights in such a small area. She had been pleased to find there actually were windmills, as well as acres and acres of tulip fields with colors so bright they almost blinded the e
ye. She saw castles and cathedrals, canals and museums, and had fallen in love with the place instantly.
Putting the hairbrush down, she let her glance run around the small upstairs room with the single window that looked out on the main street of Oudekerk aan de Amstel. The small village was only fifteen or twenty minutes by car or thirty minutes by bus from the center of Amsterdam. Her uncle had often told her they had all the advantages of country living while being almost in the center of a great city.
The room itself was decorated with bright yellows and blues and filled with beautifully constructed furniture handcrafted by Dutch artisans. Paintings of the Flemish school—but not originals—ornamented the walls. An original painting by Franz Hal would have cost as much as a dozen houses.
Her room was warm and cozy. This room fits Holland, she thought. It’s a small country, and this is a small room. Everything here is pretty and petite—except the cathedrals. She checked her appearance in the mirror and then went down the narrow stairs to the kitchen, where she found her aunt and uncle waiting for her.
“Are you ready for the festival, Gabby?”
Dalton Burke was a short man who tended to be overweight. He had very fair hair and blue eyes, in the manner of most Dutch adults, and his smile warmed his whole face. Gabby had often thought he looked like a middle-aged baby or even a smiling cherub. His appearance was deceptive, for he was one of the foremost scientists of Europe, with an international reputation for his expertise. Although he taught at the university, he spent much more time on research than he did in the classroom. He came over now and gave her a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re getting to be such a big girl. We’ll have to make sure you get plenty of food while you’re here with us.”
Gabby kissed her uncle on the cheek. “You’ll have me as fat as a pig if I stay much longer, Uncle Dalton. I’ve only been here two days, and I’ve already had enough food to last me a week!”
Liza Burke, at the age of forty-one, was four years older than her husband. She was also taller by an inch and had auburn hair and blue eyes. She resembled Lance Winslow, her baby brother. She had married Dalton Burke after a long courtship, for she wanted to be certain they were compatible. Dalton needed someone to look after his personal life, and she was more than glad to fill the role. His mind was too busy with the scientific world of formula and theory to worry about everyday trivia. He would have occasionally gone off to work wearing one blue sock and one green one if she did not check his attire each morning.
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