Copyright © 2015 by Heather Anastasiu
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For Dragoș Anastasiu,
my husband, my lover, my heart.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PART I
THE HAPPY OCCASION
Chapter 1
July 1943
Bacău, Romania
Do not live life looking ahead or behind you like the gagii do, Tsura’s grandfather once told her. Only fools think they can live in the future, even though it does not exist until you are there! But as Tsura followed Andrei up the ladder out of the cramped basement, she was tempted to ignore Grandfather Besnik’s advice.
This war would end. Or they would escape the country. Andrei spoke often of a future together, no matter that she told him it would invite bad luck. And Andrei was no fool. He told her there were places no one wanted to kill the Jews. And the Roma? she had asked. You are planning to convert to my religion and be with me, he said, so you’ll be safe too.
That sounded so very good to her. After nineteen years on this earth, it was all she wanted—to live without being afraid, surrounded by the ones she loved. Was it so bad to dream of that beautiful future and reside there in her mind?
Tsura pushed herself up the last rung of the ladder and through the trapdoor into the cramped closet, landing half on top of Andrei. She smiled wide. Maybe the future didn’t matter so much tonight. Because they were stealing a small slice of that future happiness and eating it all up, right here in the present.
Andrei put an arm around her neck and drew her to him, attempting to kiss her in the pitch black of the closet. His wet mouth connected with her nose instead and he chuckled low.
“Shh, we can’t make any noise,” she whispered in her quietest voice. “After all that time waiting for Liviu to fall asleep.” She glanced back down into the dimly lit square to the basement. They kept only a single oil lamp on low during the night and she couldn’t make out the forms of the elderly Liviu Weinberg or his wife Eva.
Andrei scoffed but gently placed the wooden trapdoor back over the hole. “I swear that old man was tormenting me on purpose tonight,” he whispered, opening the door to the closet. He kicked blankets over the trapdoor to hide it. “Every time I was sure he was asleep, he’d start muttering about the damn checkers game again.”
“Shh,” Tsura said, straining not to smile again. How did Andrei do it? Her chest was warm with happiness, such a new feeling it still felt foreign.
She hugged him from behind when he headed into the open space of the spare bedroom, nuzzling her face into the back of his neck. She couldn’t not touch him now that they were finally alone. His skin was so smooth. She ran her nose along the base of his neck and then kissed the same spot. He smelled like her Andrei—the sharp bite of lye soap mixed with his natural scent and the barest hint of sandalwood from the half-empty bottle of cologne he and Liviu were forced to use sparingly between sponge-baths.
“Don’t,” Andrei whispered throatily, looking over his shoulder and detangling her arms from his waist. “Not here.” He kept one of her hands caught in his.
She bit her lip, cheeks coloring. She was glad for the dark room. Only the barest of moonlight came through the window. Still, Andrei grinned at her and leaned in for a quick kiss before closing the closet door behind them. The happiness erupting up inside her was like boiling water frothing over its pot. Only Andrei brought this out in her.
The Weinbergs constantly fought. Being stuck in a narrow basement together for the last eighteen months didn’t help—they’d been in there a year longer than Tsura. There wasn’t even a high window to let in natural light. Tsura was sure sometimes she could open her mouth and bite the air with her teeth, it grew so stale.
But then there was Andrei. Tsura had told him his name should be Tsura, because it meant the light of the dawn. After nine months cloistered in the basement with only the Weinbergs for company, Andrei had burst into her life like a bright star. He’d been smuggled in four months ago in a hay cart in the middle of the night. They were outlaws, all of them, for one reason or another—the Weinbergs for resisting the Iron Guardists when they’d tried to seize their pharmacy, Andrei for deserting the army when they’d started killing Jews in their ranks, and Tsura for… she closed her eyes as the scene flashed again in her mind.
Run, Tsura! her brother Luca had yelled as he tackled the officer trying to arrest the two of them. No matter his prosthetic leg he’d earned in the army the year before while fighting the Russians at Odessa. No matter that he knew it meant sacrificing himself for her. Tsura had run. And she had ended up in this basement. Safe. While Luca had landed on a train north to the concentration camps for the great crime of having skin a shade too dark while at the market buying plums. The government didn’t like gypsies any better than they liked Jews.
After another moment pausing to listen, Andrei nodded and pulled her forward. The house was silent. They’d waited until near midnight when they were sure Domnul Popescu would be asleep. He was almost as old as the Weinbergs and went to sleep around ten. But Tsura and Andrei still knew how important it was to be quiet.
Domnul Popescu was a kind man to take them all in and wouldn’t appreciate their nighttime wanderings. There were neighbors who were more than nosy, and the town hadn’t been kind to its Jews. But she and Andrei knew how to be careful.
Her eyes strayed to the picture on the wall as they always did before leaving the empty bedroom. The room belonged to Domnul Popescu’s grandson Mihai, for when he visited. The picture was of Mihai and her own brother, Luca. They were so young, maybe only twelve or thirteen, and wearing identical school uniforms. Tsura’s chest gave an involuntary clench. Luca grinned so wide, every one of his teeth must be showing. Mihai stood tall and stoic beside him, though he leaned in to the arm Luca had thrown around his shoulder.
Incredible that the lives of a Roma and gagii family should become so intertwined. Luca had rescued Mihai from drowning in the Black Sea one morning when an undercurrent caught and swept him out. The only place a Roma boy and a wealthy gagii boy would ever come across one another—a beach in the early hours of morning when no one else was around. Luca could have drowned as well, as far out as he’d had to swim. Impulse, that was her brother. Impulse, with heart, and a dash of idiocy. And generosity and humor and compassion and stubbornness and—
She clutched Andrei’s hand tighter as they walked silently through the muggy house, warm with July heat. She shook her head as if she could physically rid her body of all of these thoughts. Not about where Luca was right now. Or how Mihai had grown up and betrayed them all, working for the Nazis in Bucharest as a translator. Even if he had brought her here to his grandfather’s house after she’d run from the police in the market that day—out of a debt he felt he owed to Luca.
She squeezed her eyes shut briefly. Andrei. There was only Andrei’s skin against her skin. His body connecting to hers, a kiss of souls.
She walked faster so that it wasn’t him leading her, but her pulling him through the small house. She led him past the big ceramic wood hearth in the central room and through the narrow kitchen and then finally, finally, through the back door to escape into the warm night.
Tsura breathed in the scent of the fresh air rushing through the fir trees and her whole body relaxed at the rightness of it. They were hidden from the world by the small lean-to shed attached to the house where Domnul Popescu kept chopped wood for the stove. A tall half wall separated the wood shed from the chicken coop and pig pen.
Tsura igno
red the smells of the animals and felt the wind blow through her pores and straight into her soul and then out again like she was a great set of lungs. Yes. She could breathe again. Finally.
“Where is your head tonight, beautiful one?” Andrei whispered into her ear as he tugged her inside the woodshed. She threw her arms around his neck.
“With you, always with you,” she breathed out, kissing him.
The rickety structure was enclosed on three sides. The chickens were quiet in their roosts, and even the pigs didn’t make much noise at this time of night. When Tsura angled herself just right, she still had a view of the stars, yet she and Andrei were kept hidden from any neighbors visiting their own backyard privies in the middle of the night. There was nothing Tsura loved better than kissing Andrei while watching the stars.
Andrei pulled Tsura deeper into the shadows. Tsura felt like there was champagne bubbling through her veins as Andrei’s hands went to her breasts and his lips trailed hot on her neck. They took another stumbling step back, bodies pressed together.
A loud squawk and flutter of movement at their feet made them break apart. God! Tsura covered her mouth just in time to cover her gasping shriek from escaping out loud.
Andrei swore, then kicked at the ground. “Out of here!” he hissed. “Stupid chicken!”
Tsura started giggling softly and reached over, picking up the hen. She was careful to stay clear of the pecking beak and ran a hand down the animal’s back, soothing her ruffled feathers. “Shh,” she said, laughing at Andrei’s still sour face. “We’re the ones who interrupted her sleep.”
Andrei plucked the chicken out of Tsura’s hands and set it down outside of the shed, flapping his arms. “Go. Shoo.”
Then he jogged the few steps back to Tsura, smiling now. “Well, it was interrupting my time with you. And that is unforgiveable.” He kissed her and his hands went to her waist.
Within seconds, it was Tsura yanking him back until his body pinned hers against the wall of the house. He wasn’t close enough. Never close enough. She kissed him deeply in the devouring way she liked best. Immediately her hands lifted up his shirt. The skin of his abdomen and chest was so smooth, with barely any hair even though he was twenty. It felt like silk underneath her fingers, so soft and hot.
To be tormented by a sense of inner infinity means to live so intensely that you feel you are about to die of life. The passage from Cioran rang through her head. Yes. That was what this felt like. That she was about to die of life. Between the touches and Andrei’s lips on her neck, a small whimper came out of her throat.
“You are so passionate, my little princess,” he murmured between kisses. “More passionate than any woman I have ever known.”
He dropped his hands only long enough to pull up her skirt. He leaned in harder, pressing his hips against hers. Tsura didn’t mind the way the sharp wood cut into her back. All she could think about was the warm heat flooding all the way down to her toes and the way it made her forget every other thing. It was always like this when Andrei touched her. He was the first one to ever kiss her, he’d been her teacher in all such things.
“I have to have you now,” Andrei whispered, pressing her harder against the wall. He yanked up her skirt and undid his pants in almost the same motion. He grunted as he pushed inside her, and Tsura lifted a leg to wrap around him. She inhaled him and slipped her hand into the back of his pants, grasping his backside to guide him in deeper.
The feel of him taking her, oh Lord, there was nothing like it in the world. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, closer, wishing that she was the man and he the woman so that for once it could be her who disappeared inside him. What a safe, safe place that would be.
She held him tighter as he buried his face in the crook of her neck to quiet his grunts that grew more and more frantic until finally he growled low in his throat and then stilled against her, his breaths heavy. She held his face to her breast and combed her fingers through his hair. She murmured the love words he had taught her.
“You feel so good, Andrei, I never knew anything could feel so good,” she whispered. “I will love you forever.”
He held her for several long moments, and then pulled away with one last kiss.
His body separated from hers and for an absurd moment she felt like crying. It always went so fast. She wished he could love her for hours, but then again, they had to sneak in the middle of the night. The rough wall of the house was a far cry from a warm bed and a soft mattress. Still, she was always left with a whimpering sense of dissatisfaction. She pulled him back against her, unwilling to let him go.
He laughed into her ear. “Tsura, my love, we need to go back inside.”
Tsura gave a small shake of her head and clutched him in place. “No,” she whispered. “I want to stay like this forever.”
He gave another chuckle, and she loved the way his warm breath puffed in her ear when he laughed. She loosened her grip on him slightly. He was still here, still with her.
“Soon, my love,” he said, “soon. This war will end and you’ll convert and then we’ll make our home together. My mother will come over and cook all kinds of kosher foods that you’ll probably hate. She’ll be overbearing, but my passionate little Tsura won’t fear anything, not even a strong-willed Jewish mother-in-law! And I’ll get a job and we’ll lay together every night—”
“Shh, shh,” Tsura placed a hand over his mouth, shaking her head. He was only saying things he’d said before, and they were her dearest desires. But that made it even worse that he spoke them so carelessly out loud. “Don’t talk about these things. It’s bad luck to plan for the future.”
But Andrei just laughed again. “We Jews think so often about the future. It’s always Next year in Jerusalem! We’ve spent generations waiting for a Messiah who hasn’t shown up yet, but that doesn’t stop us from still expecting him.” His voice lowered and he grew serious. “Some people are tired of waiting though. There was talk before I had to go into hiding about Jews moving to Palestine and finally having a homeland of our own.” His back straightened. “You’ll come with me. We’ll go and set up a house that no one will ever threaten to burn down. We’ll have children who will walk to school and not have to be afraid.”
Andrei stopped, noticing Tsura’s flinch. “I’m sorry, I forgot,” he said quickly, kissing her on the lips. “We’ll just have the nice house and never worry about having to chase after drooling babies. I’ll get a good job and you’ll—”
Tsura put three fingers against his lips again to stop him talking. It wasn’t just the mention of her never being able to have children, which Andrei always said didn’t matter. If she ever allowed herself to even think about the future, she would worry that one day it would, no matter what he said now. Ever since the doctors had told her she’d never have children—and then right afterwards her father had sent her away from the caravan to live with her brother in the gagii world—she couldn’t help but believe that being barren meant she would always be alone.
“No more talk of the future.” She smiled gaily. She couldn’t allow it, no matter how much she might secretly want to. He who eats too much eats away his own luck. She was with Andrei now, in this moment. It was enough. “We’ll pray for luck and take each day as it arrives to us.”
Andrei nuzzled the tender space between her neck and shoulder. “My little pagan. My superstitious gypsy,” he whispered. But then he pulled back, his face serious. “I mean it, Tsura. We’ve talked around this, but I mean this truly. I will be your husband and you will be my wife. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Tsura blinked at him. Yes, he’d talked about a future together, but never so blatantly. She blinked again, realization slowly settling in. She felt a smile tug at one side of her mouth and then spread until she was grinning so wide her cheeks began to hurt. “Are you…” she choked out. “Was that a proposal? Of marriage?”
He grasped both her hands firmly in his. “The word proposal insinuates th
ere could be an answer other than yes. So no, I am not proposing, because I won’t accept a refusal. I am telling you, Tsura Draghici, that I’ll be your husband, and you’ll be my wife. We’re engaged now.”
Engaged. Her. The barren one. To Andrei. Handsome, wonderful Andrei. Who loved her and had just said he would be her husband. The joy was slow to hit her because it was so unbelievable. All she could do was nod over and over and then toss her arms around him. She kissed him hard, laughed and then kissed him again. This was real. It was really happening. To her.
“All right,” he finally pulled away with a satisfied smile. “We do need to get in the house.”
When he stepped backwards, though, he accidentally knocked into the wood pile and sent several of the stacked logs crashing to the ground.
Tsura froze, but Andrei only laughed. “It’s the middle of the night, love, who is there to hear us?” He calmly started restacking the logs.
“Hello?” a deep voice called. “Is there someone back here?”
Startled, Andrei dropped the log he was holding, which sent it bouncing against the wall of the shed with a loud thud.
“Who’s there? Come out.”
Tsura’s heartbeat stuttered. Andrei leapt to hide behind a stack of logs, but before Tsura could follow him, a flashlight suddenly shined in her face. Oh God. Oh God. This was it. Of course it had all been too good to last. She should have known it the moment she let herself feel such outrageous happiness when Andrei had proclaimed they were engaged. She should have run for cover that very moment. Anything too bright or lovely and the darkness chased it down.
But then a second later the flashlight dropped down and she could see who was holding it.
“Oh Mihai,” she choked out through an almost hysterical laugh, hugging him. He wasn’t the kind of man you usually hugged, especially since Tsura didn’t even like him considering the work he did. But he wasn’t anyone worse and that was such a relief, she hugged him almost as hard as she’d hugged Andrei after he’d proposed.
Mihai did not hug her back. This wasn’t surprising. He was a cold man at the best of times. Even before he’d become a Nazi collaborator.
She dropped her arms and then another thought registered. Why was he here? He lived five hours away in Bucharest. Did he have news about Luca? Had he finally heard something from the camps? But before she could ask, there was another voice behind her.
“And who is this, Mihai?”
For the second time in as many minutes, Tsura’s body went still in terror. Because when she looked behind her, there was a stranger in an army uniform, pointing a gun straight at her.
Chapter 2
Tsura: A World War II Romance Page 1