The Cadence of Gypsies

by Barbara Casey

  She had watched Carolina and her mother—two women with so little in common other than the fact that they were mother and daughter—related by blood. Yet that one connection was enough to bond them for life. That seemed to be enough for them, and nothing else mattered.

  Jennifer looked around the large room with the pretty yellow roses on the walls and scented with fresh white lilacs. She and her parents had that connection as well before they were killed. Maybe that was enough; and knowing that, maybe now she could let them go, but keep whatever love they had shared in her heart.

  Content and at peace in the soft sheets and comforter of her bed, Jennifer slowly drifted to sleep, the musical cadence of a violin playing softly in her mind.

  * * *

  After Carolina and the FIGs promised to visit the Granchellis and Lucia again; after Lucia promised to visit Wood Rose in North Carolina—but not the Granchellis because they were too old to travel, they said; and after everyone promised everyone they would take care of themselves, and much love to all, Carolina, Larry, and the FIGs finally left the Granchelli farm and headed for Rome where they were scheduled for a flight back to LaGuardia then Raleigh. First, though, they would make a stop at the gypsy camp. Carolina wanted to see her mother one last time before leaving. When they got there, however, everything was gone. There weren’t any trailers, huts, or tents. Nor was there any sign that the gypsies had ever camped there. It was just a field in the shadow of the ancient Villa Mondragone. Carolina remembered Lucia’s words: They will stay until they feel it is no longer beneficial for them to remain. When they feel it is time to leave, they will. One day they will simply be gone.

  Concerned for what Carolina might be feeling, Larry reached for her hand.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “She was here when I most needed her.” Carolina looked out across the field toward the gardens that were still a part of the Old Villa, feeling the strong bond of love she and her mother shared—the love that had always been there and always would. They had already said their goodbyes.

  Carolina moved closer to the man she loved as they drove north toward Rome. There were no more secrets now. She found her past and in doing so, had also found her future. She glanced at the FIGs in the back seat. It had been the right thing to do to include them in the search for her own truth. Now, perhaps, each girl—Dara, Mackenzie, and Jennifer—would be able to accept her own past and move forward with confidence and self-assurance.

  “Sure glad you are driving, Larry,” said Dara from the back seat.

  “Yeah,” giggled Mackenzie. “Carolina almost got us all killed trying to get out of Rome.”

  “She just likes to drive in circles,” added Jennifer laughing.

  They were a family. Their bond was love.

  Chapter 23

  Dr. Harcourt was in a state of hyperbolic angst; graduation exercises tended to do that to him. His dark gray suit looked all right, but somehow he had managed to spill something on his tie—the one with the smidgeon of maroon. Helpless as to what to do about it, he went searching for Mrs. Ball.

  “Oh for pity’s sake,” she said, whipping out some sort of cleaning apparatus that looked like a short, thin dildo. She had been showing signs of contrariness ever since Carolina and the FIGs had returned from Italy, probably an indication of extreme stress over what the FIGs might do in the short time before graduation. In fact, the entire campus seemed to be exuding a palpitating air of agitation, as though in anticipation of something unknown that was yet to come. Within seconds the offensive spot had been removed, and everything was as right as it could be considering it was graduation day.

  All of the board members were in attendance, as well as several leaders in the community. And, of course, Miss Alcott, who had resumed her frequent visits to Wood Rose since Carolina and the FIGs had returned from their study trip abroad. There were also a couple of local reporters to cover the happy event, which was especially nice since Dr. Harcourt planned to use the occasion to announce the fact that in addition to a State grant, a sizeable Federal grant had been awarded to Wood Rose as a result of the research Carolina and the FIGs had completed while on their recent study-abroad mini course.

  With all of the student-residents, faculty, staff, board members, Miss Alcott, and community dignitaries seated, the organist, Dr. Hertzog, who was head of the music department, began playing the lively processional, “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring,” by J.S. Bach. Ten graduating seniors proudly marched in single file, one by one, down the red carpeted aisle toward the stage to receive their diplomas, including the three FIGs. Each graduate wore the traditional cap and gown in the traditional dark blue school color. Only the tassel on the cap was yellow.

  It was one of the largest classes to graduate from Wood Rose Orphanage and Academy for Young Women, rich in history and strong in academic achievement, wrote one of the reporters. The other reporter, a woman whose beat usually covered society interests in the Raleigh area, wrote: Dressed alike in robes of dark blue, only the individual accomplishments of the ten young women graduating from Wood Rose distinguished them from each other—with the exception of three of the graduates: one wore her cap backwards, another wore her cap pitched at a severe slant forward, and the third wore her cap secured at an odd right angle over one ear.

  Later that evening, with the services behind them, Dara, Mackenzie, and Jennifer sat in Carolina’s living room, surrounded by the happy colors of blue, orange, and yellow.

  “Do you know what you want to do this summer before you begin your college classes?” Carolina had been concerned about the FIGs and how they would spend their summer. They had been on such a busy schedule, it seemed strange now that it was all coming to an end.

  “Larry said he might know someone who can help me find out where my mother is,” said Dara.

  “Really?” Carolina wasn’t expecting that answer, but, thinking about it, it didn’t surprise her.

  Dara nodded. “She might be in New York.”

  “I am going to help,” said Mackenzie.

  “Me, too,” added Jennifer.

  “It won’t hurt to try. We have five weeks before we have to report to school,” said Mackenzie.

  “I have to report a little earlier, but that will only be for a performance at the Lincoln Center,” said Jennifer.

  “The Gypsy Cadence?” asked Carolina.

  “Yes. It’s part of the live performing arts series. Then I’ll have another week off before I actually start my classes at Juilliard.”

  “Wow.” Carolina thought back to how much support they had given her in her own search—and how much help. She wouldn’t have accomplished what she did if it hadn’t been for the FIGs.

  Actually, she hadn’t made any plans for the summer yet. Larry was teaching the two summer sessions at the university, so he would be busy. And she had some vacation time coming.

  The FIGs looked at her…waiting.

  “Listen, I don’t want to intrude, but…”

  “Great,” said all three girls at once.

  “We were hoping you would want to come.” Dara began talking rapidly, as though she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Larry said his contact has located five women with the same name as my mother. Only two, though, are good possibilities because of their age and the date they arrived at their current addresses, both of which happen to be in New York. We thought we would go there and try to locate them.” Dara paused to take a breath.

  “Also,” said Mackenzie, “we figured that since Connecticut isn’t that far from New York, you might want to make a stop at the Beinecke Library at Yale University.”

  “You could show them the copy of your father’s manuscript,” said Jennifer; “that is, if you want to.”

  Carolina caught their excitement. She had been wondering if she should go to Connecticut. Maybe now was the time. Carolina smiled and nodded. She would go with the FIGs to New York in search of Dara’s mother. How could she not? And then she and the FIGs could visit the Beinec
ke Library and meet with the head of the rare documents department. It was time. And it was the right thing to do.

  * * *

  Jimmy Bob slowly made the rounds in his old, beat-up truck, this time not starting with the ivy-covered stone walls on the outer perimeter and circling back to the center, but driving only around the dormitory and administrative building. The Durham Bulls were in the play-offs, and it was being televised in a delayed broadcast by the local station. He didn’t want to miss any of it. Within fifteen minutes he had checked the dormitory and headed back to the administrative building where he had a bag of cheese chips and a canned soft drink waiting. All was quiet and as it should be.

  * * *

  “Hurry up, he’ll be coming back pretty soon!”

  Lynda spelled with a “y” Corgill, who was two years behind Dara, Mackenzie, and Jennifer and had just completed her sophomore year, squeezed the hot glue gun into the door lock of the headmaster’s office. Shelby Andrews, her accomplice and the newest resident to be accepted at Wood Rose, stood watch.

  “I see the lights of the truck. Hurry! He’s coming back! Are you finished?”

  Lynda gave the metal apparatus one last squeeze, filling the lock with the quick-drying cement glue guaranteed to harden on contact. “Finished.”

  In the soft illumination of the crescent moon high overhead, the two girls, barefooted and wearing dark blue pajamas, ran across the lawn crisscrossed by dark, elongated shadows and dampened by night-cooled air to the maintenance shed where they placed the glue gun on the top shelf where it was normally kept. With that task completed, they quickly returned to the dormitory, to the far end from where Ms. Larkins slept, and crawled through the open window. Within minutes they were back in their rooms, in their individual beds, and sound asleep. The sleep of innocent angels.

  It would soon be light; and Wood Rose Orphanage and Academy for Young Women would start another day.

  The End