The Gypsy Moon

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Oh, God,” she prayed quietly, “it’s so hard for me sometimes to see a pattern in my life. If life were only like that one stone making one set of circles, I could understand. But it’s not like that. There are so many things about my life and about being a Christian that I don’t understand, and I’m troubled about them, Lord. But I know that you are never confused and that you’re not the author of confusion. So even when my life becomes confused and shattered, I know you understand each tiny thing that touches my life. And you have said that all things work together for good to those who love you. So, Lord, let me love you so that the patterns of my life will always be under your gracious and merciful hands.” She smiled and looked up. “Thank you, Jesus, for listening to this foolish person!” Gabby had never been able to establish a regular prayer time. She preferred to pray spontaneously, dialoguing with her Lord whenever she felt the desire to commune with Him.

  She watched until the patterns in the water were completely dissipated, and then she continued on her way, looking up at the opaque sky, where a pale sun cast down its beams with a benevolent warmth.

  ****

  “You haven’t said anything lately about your plans, Gabby.”

  Looking up from the sink where she was washing dishes, Gabby regarded her aunt with a questioning look. “Well, there’s nothing much to tell, Aunt Liza.”

  Liza Burke picked up a Delft saucer and polished it carefully before putting it in the cabinet. “I haven’t said anything before, but it seems to me that you’re not very excited about your engagement to Lang.”

  Gabby started to answer but then pressed her lips together and moved the small dishrag around the surface of the bowl. The heat had raised a fine sheen of perspiration on her brow, and a tendril of her luxurious brown hair fell over her forehead. She brushed it away with a quick gesture. “Well, he’s been in the army for two years. We haven’t seen all that much of each other. It’s been difficult, but then, I suppose it’s difficult for all couples while the men are serving their time in the service.”

  Gabby’s answer did not satisfy her aunt. She turned and studied the profile of this young woman who had come to fill such a large part of her life and that of her husband. Being childless, Liza had once turned her interests to other things, but since Gabby’s parents had died, she had poured herself out for the young woman. Never a day passed that she didn’t thank God for her. “I don’t mean to be critical, dear. It just seems that you’re not very excited about your upcoming marriage.”

  Gabby swirled the dishrag around, dipped the dish into the rinse water, and set it on the drying rack. “It’s just hard to be engaged to a man while he’s serving somewhere far away.” She whirled around and asked her aunt, “Are you unhappy that I’m engaged to Lang?”

  “Your uncle and I just want you to be happy.”

  “Well, I am happy. Of course, it’s simply not my way to set off sparks. I wish I could be as romantic and overflowing as the movie stars in those silly movies.”

  “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to imitate them,” Liza said with a smile. She was troubled, however, about Lang. Although she did not let it show in her features, she was thinking of the many conversations she and Dalton had had concerning Gabby’s relationship with Lang Zeeman. They seemed to be the only ones who were concerned, for Zeeman was handsome, wealthy, and likely to do well in the world of business. His father was not in good health, and one day Lang would run the large factory and have control of the family fortune. They had often spoken of something in the young man they found disturbing. “He’s not steady, Liza,” Dalton had said many times. “And he’s too easy in his ways. You know how many affairs he’s been accused of having with other women.”

  Liza had never mentioned Lang’s freewheeling history to Gabby. He did go to church fairly often, but there was little to indicate any true devotion to the Lord.

  Her aunt’s silence troubled Gabby. She truly loved Liza and Dalton Burke. They had taken her in when she had nobody, and she not only owed them her devotion but was glad to give it. Now she suddenly laid the dishrag down and put her arm around Liza’s waist. “It’s all right,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Liza returned Gabby’s smile and said no more, but she felt a heaviness in her heart she could not deny.

  ****

  Three days had passed since Gabby’s conversation with her aunt concerning Lang Zeeman, but Gabby couldn’t get the brief encounter off her mind. When such things happened, she usually assumed there was a reason for it. Every night she prayed, “God, show me if there’s something I need to know about our engagement. I want to please you in this as in all other things.” She spent hours walking along the canals and delighting in the tulip fields. She thought about her relationship with Lang and tried to put it into perspective. She remembered throwing the single stone into the canal and watching as the clear symmetrical circles made their way outward from the first tiny splash. She longed for the same simplicity in her own life. But then she also remembered how the other stones had disturbed this pattern. She felt there was a parallel to this in her life, although she could not put her finger on it.

  Lang was by far the most fascinating man she had ever met. His dramatic good looks and charm drew people to him—especially women. Gabby was aware that he had known many women, but she had resolutely decided not to let that bother her. It was her conviction that when a man and a woman came together in marriage, they needed to shut the door on the past. Of course, she had nothing in her past to shut out, but she felt a disquietude in thinking of the many young women Lang had dated. They had not been innocent flirtations—she knew that, for Betje had kept her informed. Betje, in fact, had warned her, “You can’t expect a man like Lang to stop looking at other women. They look at him, and he’s a man. He’s going to look back. So don’t let him break your heart.”

  Betje’s warning had disturbed Gabby more than she had indicated. To her, marriage was a lifelong promise that united a man and a woman in a sacred circle, and all others were shut out. It was not that they were isolated from the world, but she had exalted ideas about marriage. She was convinced that God chose a particular man for a certain woman and that God had a specific man for each woman. She was too easily embarrassed to ever express her views to Lang, for she felt he would laugh at her and call her a romantic. But still she treasured the idea in her heart, and she was terrified lest she make the terrible mistake of choosing the wrong man. She had seen enough loveless marriages in which the man and the woman simply went through the routine of living together without any trace of real devotion and with no excitement.

  Maybe I’m expecting too much, Gabby thought. She was walking through the center of the village, stopping from time to time to look in a store window. Maybe I’m too romantic. The idea startled her, for she considered herself a logical person with a scientific mind. The study of medicine was not romantic in the least, but it required the faculties to be completely given to logic and reason. Still, she had another side that embarrassed her a little. She loved romances, and she sometimes wept in the cinema over heroines dying graceful deaths in the arms of a handsome lover. She knew that beneath her smooth professionalism lay a romantic side, but she had never learned how to show it to anyone else.

  “Buy a pretty ring, miss?”

  The sound of a voice at her elbow startled Gabby, and she turned quickly to see a young woman standing beside her. One quick look revealed that the woman was a gypsy, for she wore the colorful dress, long skirt, and gold earrings that they commonly wore. She was a strikingly attractive woman with olive skin, large lustrous eyes, and hair as black as a raven. “This ring, it would look so beautiful on your finger. Try it on, lady.”

  As always, Gabby was fascinated by these people, so she didn’t turn away. She took the gold ring, set with a flashing green stone.

  “You like it?” the woman asked, watching with eager eyes.

  “Very beautiful indeed, but I don’t think I could affo
rd it.”

  “Oh, you must have the ring!”

  Gabby did like the ring very much, and when she asked the price, she laughed and said, “Oh, I couldn’t afford anything like that!” As she had expected, the gypsy began to bargain with her, and finally she bought it for much less than the original price. When she handed over the money, she said, “Did you ever happen to meet a gypsy named Duke Zanko?”

  The eyes of the young woman flew open. “Duke Zanko! You know him?”

  “I met him years ago in England. You have met him, then?”

  “Met him! He is the leader of my band.”

  Instantly, Gabby grew excited. She had fond memories of her brief encounter with Zanko. “Is Madame Jana still with your band?”

  “Oh yes. She is very old, very wise.”

  An impulse took Gabby, and she asked, “Please, would you show me where your band is camped?”

  “Yes, I will take you. My name is Maria.”

  Maria led Gabby down the street and cut through a side street. When they were clear of the village, she pointed at a grove of trees. “There is our camp,” she said. “Duke Zanko, he will be glad to see you, lady.”

  “I doubt if he will remember me. It’s been many years.”

  “Perhaps he will not, but Madame Jana will remember you. She never forgets anything.”

  As Gabby approached the camp, she felt a strange excitement. Of all the memories of her life in England, perhaps her meeting with Zanko and Madame Jana was the clearest. She didn’t know why, but she could remember every word that had been said, and she still wore the necklace that Madame Jana had given her. She had sometimes thought herself foolish for believing that an old woman, after all these years, would still be praying for her, but somehow she felt sure the old woman had kept her promise.

  Now as they approached, Maria called out, “Zanko, a visitor for you!”

  Gabby glanced around and noted that there were four gaily covered caravans, perhaps the same ones she had seen in England. The camp was busy with women cooking over fires and children playing. Over to one side a young man with coal black hair was playing a fiddle with great energy. In front of him two teenage girls were dancing, their colorful skirts making a splash of color as they whirled and dipped.

  “Welcome to our camp,” Duke Zanko greeted.

  He looked a little older, with a few new lines on his face, but his hair was still dark. He had grown a heavy mustache, but Gabby would have known him anywhere. When he bowed from the waist, she extended her hand, and surprise flashed in his dark eyes. He bent over and kissed her hand with a courtly gesture.

  “You don’t remember me, I think,” Gabby said.

  Zanko released her hand and studied her face carefully. “We have met before?”

  “Many years ago in England. I came to your camp with a young man.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That was a long time ago. I would not have known you.”

  “I would have known you anywhere, Duke, and I still remember Madame Jana.”

  “She is old now, but she has spoken of you many times. I have heard her pray for you. She never forgets.”

  “Could I see her?”

  “Yes, certainly. Come this way. She is not well, you understand.” His face grew sad. “She will take her long journey soon, I think.”

  “She’s dying?”

  “As she says, we are all dying, but her turn may come quicker than others. Come.”

  Zanko stopped before the back of a wagon, where a pair of steps led up to the door. He mounted the stairs and opened the door a few inches. “Madame Jana, are you awake?”

  “Yes, I’m awake.”

  “You have a visitor.”

  Zanko turned and put his hand out to help Gabby up the stairs. She climbed the steps and then ducked and stepped inside. For a moment she could see little in the dimness, but then her eyes adjusted. A lamp attached to the ceiling was burning, throwing its amber light over the woman who lay on a cot on one side of the caravan.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Madame Jana, but I—”

  “Sit down and give me your hand.”

  Gabby pulled a three-legged stool forward and extended her hand. As the old woman took it, Gabby studied the familiar ancient face. Jana was wearing a kerchief even in bed, and she seemed very tiny and frail. Her face had a few more wrinkles than it had had years ago, but her eyes were as bright as they had been that first night in the lovers’ grove.

  “I am Gabrielle Winslow. I met you many years—”

  “My daughter, I have prayed for you often.” The voice was as strong as the grip that held Gabby’s hand.

  The old woman reached with her other hand to enclose both of Gabby’s hands between the two of hers while her eyes searched Gabby’s face. She did not speak for a long time, and then she said, “I always knew I would see you again. God had told me so.”

  The enormity of this statement took Gabby’s breath away. She did not know what to say, but she felt the power of this weak old woman who was endued with such spiritual strength. “I have thought of you so many times over the years, and your prayers have been a comfort.”

  Madame Jana smiled. “You have grown into a fine woman. Have you married?”

  “N-no.” Gabby could not understand why the word was so hard to say, and she hastened to say, “But I am promised to one who will be my husband.”

  The woman’s eyes grew darker, and the intensity of her gaze troubled Gabby. This frail woman had a power she could not understand, and the silence that filled the wagon made her feel intensely uncomfortable. She felt the need to defend herself, but she did not know from what.

  “God knows your past, and He knows your future, my daughter. But you are concerned with the present.”

  The old hands tightened on Gabby’s, and she felt lightheaded. She listened as the old woman continued.

  “For some reason, God put you on my heart that night many years ago. This old woman is not good for much, but she knows when God has a task for her. And the Lord Jesus has given me to prayer and called me to seek the goodness in your life.”

  Gabby sat absolutely still, conscious of the old woman’s frail hands holding hers, unable to move away from her eyes. She had no confidence in fortune-telling, and she was well aware that there were those among the gypsies who were thieves and worse. All of this, however, was shoved aside, for here in the dim light of this gypsy caravan, Gabby Winslow knew she was in the presence of one of God’s servants. The power of God rested on Madame Jana, and Gabby listened as she spoke for some time about the love of God and the way He directed the lives of His children.

  Finally, Madame Jana pulled on her hands and whispered, “Lean forward, daughter.”

  Obediently, Gabby did so, and the old woman placed her hands lightly on each side of Gabby’s head. The old woman did not speak for what seemed like a long time, but Gabby’s head seemed to tingle where the ancient hands rested on the sides of her face. She began to tremble, and tears filled her eyes, although she could not explain why.

  “You still wear the necklace I gave you.”

  “Yes.” Gabby pulled the necklace from beneath her blouse and held it out. The light caught the gold, and it glowed dully in the semidarkness. “I’ve always worn the necklace you gave me, Madame Jana, and I have believed in your prayers.”

  “You are faithful, child, and God will be with you. But you must not make a mistake. You are thinking of going through a door, but you must not pass through it, for God has other plans for you. You will close one door, but another door will open. Go through that door. God will be with you.”

  Suddenly, without doubt, Gabrielle knew that the exhortation had to do with her intended marriage to Lang Zeeman. She heard no voice, but she knew that God had spoken to her through this woman.

  Finally, Madame Jana pulled Gabby forward and kissed her forehead. She seemed weak then, exhausted, and her eyes closed for a moment. It took all her strength, it seemed to Gabby, to open them, and she said, “
Now, tell me about yourself.”

  Gabby spent over an hour in that gypsy caravan, speaking her heart to the old woman as she had never spoken it to anyone, not even her dear aunt Liza. The old woman prayed for her again, and she knew that the direction of her life had changed.

  “I do not think we will meet again on this earth, my daughter,” Madame Jana whispered. “I go to meet my heavenly husband soon, but until that moment comes you will always be in my heart.”

  “Oh, Madame Jana!” Gabby cried, tears forming in her eyes. She kissed the withered cheek, and they said their good-byes.

  She turned blindly and left the caravan, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. She found Duke Zanko standing a distance away, waiting silently. “She is a wonderful woman,” Gabby said.

  “The wisest and the best I have ever known.”

  “She . . . she said we will not meet again.”

  “She is rarely mistaken.” Zanko’s face was sad, and he shook his head. “I do not know what I will do without her.”

  ****

  It was nearly two weeks later before Gabby told her aunt and uncle about her conversation with Madame Jana. Gabby was subdued at supper that evening, lost in her thoughts. When the meal was over, before her aunt could rise to clear away the table, she said, “I have to talk to you.”

  Instantly, both Dalton and Liza grew alert. Gabby had been pleasant enough recently but was obviously preoccupied with something that was bothering her. Liza had noticed it first, and when she had called Dalton’s attention to it, he had watched her closely as well. They had not spoken to her but had prayed much about whatever trouble she was going through.

  “You’ve probably noticed that I’ve been . . . rather quiet lately.”

  “Yes, we have noticed,” Liza said. “Is something wrong, dear?”