Authors: Gilbert Morris
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 eye. 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.
“I’ve fixed your favorite breakfast, dear. Sit down and eat.”
Aunt Liza’s breakfast was indeed a bracing way to begin the day. Along with bread and rolls, there were thin slices of cheese and ham, preserves, a boiled egg for each of them, and plenty of freshly brewed tea. They even had orange juice, which many people did not drink due to the high cost.
Dalton Burke was a rather messy eater, and by the time the meal was half finished, his waistcoat was covered with crumbs. Once, Gabby reached over and laughed as she brushed them away with her napkin. His blue eyes twinkled, and he grunted, “I certainly do need a keeper. It’s a good thing I married your aunt Liza. No telling what I would be like if I hadn’t.” Although he spoke English well, he had an interesting accent that he had picked up while studying at a German university.
Dalton spread a generous amount of jam on a roll and bit off an enormous hunk. “Have you thought about what we discussed yesterday, Gabby?”
“Yes, I have.”
“So you still want to be a doctor?”
“I think so.” Gabby smiled. “It sounds silly, but I couldn’t decide for a long time whether to go into show business or become a doctor.”
Liza laughed. “That’s like trying to decide whether you want to be a brain surgeon or a housewife.” She was a sweet-faced woman, who was very fond of her brother, Lance. She and Dalton had never had children, and Liza’s maternal instinct had drawn her toward Gabby. The vacations the young girl had spent with them had brought the two of them close. “You could live with us and go to medical school here,” she suggested.
“I expect Mum and Dad will want me to get my training in England, but I’ll visit here often and see that your tie matches your socks, Uncle Dalton.”
Liza shook her head. “Your uncle has received offers to teach at Oxford, but he has turned them down. I wish we’d
go. Then we’d be closer to family.” She looked over at her husband and shook her head slightly. “There’s trouble coming in this part of the world, Dalton.”
Many people in Europe were saying those exact words. Germany was struggling to recover from the terrible depression and financial crash following the Great War, when the German mark became practically worthless.
“It will be fine, dearest,” Dalton said, reaching over and taking Liza’s hand. He squeezed it and smiled cheerfully. “Germany has been flat on its back ever since the end of the war, but things are looking up now. You’ll see. All will be well.”
Liza did not agree. “Your mother doesn’t think so.” Dalton’s mother, Dorcas, lived on the outskirts of Oudekerk in the house where he had been born. She was a strong woman, a devout Christian with solid opinions.
“Mother and I don’t agree a hundred percent on everything,” he said.
“She is a wise woman,” Liza said firmly. “You should listen to her more.”
Dalton was an incurable optimist, always expecting the best outcomes. He seemed to push the matter out of his mind and leaned toward Gabby. “You must be careful at the festival.” He underscored his statement with a wink.