The Gypsy Moon (4 page)

“Careful, Uncle Dalton? Careful of what?”

“Why, the young men.” He laughed heartily. “Young men have no respect today. Why, when I was a young man—”

Liza laughed and interrupted him. “When you were a young man, you behaved like all other young men—very badly.”

“I’m afraid I did,” he admitted. “Would you believe that I held your aunt’s hand without asking permission of her parents?”

“How shocking!” Gabby laughed. “Before I let anybody hold my hand at the festival, I’ll make him come and ask your permission.”

****

Betje van Dych caught Gabby’s arm and laughed at her. “Hurry up,” she said. “We’ll be late. All the good-looking boys will be taken.”

Betje was two years older than Gabby, but they had become fast friends on Gabby’s first visit to the country years ago. On the two subsequent trips, their friendship had deepened, and now the two young women were very close. Betje was a solidly built girl with a full figure that drew the eyes of young men. Her blond hair was cut rather short in the American fashion, and her blue-green eyes sparkled with life. She was very emotional and thought far too much about boys—or so Gabby thought. “Come on,” she said. “You’re walking as slow as a snail!”

Gabby snickered. “Snails don’t walk. They crawl.”

The two were moving quickly along the streets of Oudekerk, caught in the stream of people. The sun beat down, and tulips and other flowers were everywhere, providing brilliant color in window boxes and in small yards. The air was full of chattering and singing and laughing as the crowds made their way to the festival.

“I always forget what this festival celebrates,” Gabby confessed.

Betje laughed and nudged Gabby with her elbow. “It’s another excuse to get drunk, for young men to find young women, and young women to fight them off—for a while.”

Gabby was very different from her friend and was often shocked by her seeming lack of morals. “That’s not true!” she protested. “It has to celebrate something.”

“Why can’t it just celebrate love?” Betje asked with a grin. “Look. See that tall fellow over there?” She indicated a young man who was walking in the same direction on the opposite sidewalk. “He keeps looking at us. Do you want to meet him?”

“Betje, don’t be silly! For all you know he’s already got a girlfriend.”

“That’s half the fun of it. One of us could take him away from her. She shouldn’t let him run loose if she wants to hang on to him.”

The young man had seen the two girls giggling and crossed the street. He had dark blue eyes and clean-cut features, but when he came close, Gabby smelled alcohol on his breath.

“Good morning, ladies. You’ve come to the festival, I see. May I escort you?”

“Why, we’re married women,” Betje said with a straight face. “You wouldn’t want to get involved with a married woman.”

He smiled and winked. “I wouldn’t mind as long as your husband doesn’t have a pistol.”

Betje laughed and continued to tease him as they continued along their way.

They were soon joined by another young fellow, a short, muscular young man of some eighteen years, Gabby judged. He was wearing a colorful shirt and had already been sampling the wares of the drinking houses. His name was Hans, he said, and he talked Betje into stopping for refreshments. He led them into a small place called Bistro Klein Paardenburg. It was crowded and filled with noisy talk and laughter, and Gabby noticed that many of the patrons were eating
rolpens
—a combination of minced meat, fried apples, and red cabbage. Gabby was not hungry, but her three companions gobbled down
saucijzenbrood
—a flaky roll of pastry surrounding a piece of sausage. They also had beer, which Gabby refused. Instead, she had a drink similar to apple cider, which was very good.

After they had eaten their fill, the quartet left the restaurant and joined a larger group of young people, some of whom Betje knew. For the rest of the morning, the two girls enjoyed themselves tremendously at the outdoor festival. At noon they went to a sandwich shop and squeezed around the only empty table. Hans had drunk more than was good for him and insisted on putting his arm around Gabby. He
leaned over her, and before she could move, he picked up the old coin that hung by the golden chain from her neck. She had worn it since Madame Jana had given it to her. She had laughed at her own superstitions, but still the words of the ancient woman had remained with her.
“It is to remind you that you are not alone—that somewhere an old woman is praying for you.”

“What is this? A good luck charm?” he asked.

“Not exactly. Just a gift from an old gypsy woman.”

“A gypsy? Did she tell you your fortune?”

Before she could answer his question, Hans suddenly kissed her noisily on the lips.

Betje laughed. “Now you’re getting into the spirit of things.”

Gabby pushed Hans away angrily. “Don’t you do that again!”

“I forgot to tell you,” Betje said to Hans. Her eyes were somewhat glazed, for she had been sampling wine and beer and even stronger drinks throughout the morning. “She’s a good girl.” She winked at her own escort, whose name was Frans. “Not like me.”

Such talk made Gabby ill at ease, and for the rest of the afternoon she tried in every way she could to get Betje to stop drinking so much. Betje simply laughed at her efforts, saying, “I’m going to have a good time.”

“You won’t have a good time if you get in trouble, and that’s what could happen if you get drunk.”

“I can take care of myself,” Betje snapped. She usually was a cheerful girl, but sometimes alcohol made her quarrelsome. “If you don’t like what’s going on, go home to your aunt and uncle.”

Gabby felt a great concern for Betje, for she knew her friend was not careful with men. “I think I will,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As Gabby turned her back on the group, she could hear
Betje’s scornful tone. “Come on, Frans. There’s a lot to see yet.”

Gabby felt sad as she walked back to Dalton and Liza’s house. She worried about Betje and had tried more than once to talk to her about her soul. Betje had simply laughed, saying, “Let old people worry about religion. It’s not for me.”

****

“You didn’t stay very long at the fete, Gabby,” Liza said. “Didn’t you have a good time?”

“Oh, I did for a while, but then—” She broke off. “I just thought I’d rather come home.”

Liza Burke had a keen insight into people. She had been glad when Betje and Gabby had become friends when they were little girls, but during the last few years she had watched Betje, who was the daughter of one of her good friends, turn wild. Now she said gently, “Betje has changed, hasn’t she?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Aunt Liza. She’s always been a little wild.” Gabby plopped down on the couch.

“I’m afraid it’s more than that now,” Liza said as she sat next to Gabby.

Gabby looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t tell you this, and I don’t do it as a matter of gossip. It’s just something you need to know. Has she told you about her abortion?”

Shocked, Gabby just stared at her aunt, unable to speak. Finally, she said, “No, she hasn’t.”

“She probably will. It didn’t mean a great deal to her. She was seeing this young man and became pregnant. She came to your uncle and wanted him to help her—that is, help her get rid of the baby. He refused, of course, and she became very upset.”

“But she found somebody to do it?”

“Yes, she did. It broke her parents’ hearts. She has a brother and sister who are as good as can be, but there’s a wild streak
in Betje that grieves me.” She put her hand on Gabby’s arm. “I hope you don’t think I’m gossiping to tell you this.”

“Of course not, Aunt Liza. I’m glad you told me, but I feel so sorry for her.”

“I suppose part of it is the times. Everything is so unsettled these days. There’s talk of wars and revolutions everywhere you go. Betje told me once that she was going to enjoy life as much as she could before it crashed down around her ears.”

“I’ve heard that before, but it doesn’t make any sense. If things are crashing down around your ears, that’s the time to look to God.”

“Exactly right!” Liza gave her niece a warm, approving look. Then she shook her head. “I hate to think about your going home. We’ll miss you so much.”

“Dad said in his letter that they’d be coming back sooner than they thought. I’m looking forward to skiing in France. But of course I’ll miss you and Uncle Dalton.”

“I hope you’ll come back soon for another visit. You liven this house up.”

“I’ll try, Aunt Liza, but I’ll be studying to be a doctor pretty soon.”

“You’ll be a good one too. You’re intelligent, and you’re sensitive. Those are the two traits a doctor must have, so Dalton says.”

“I’ve got so much to learn.”

“Don’t you worry. With your bright head, you’ll learn all of it and more.” Liza leaned over and kissed her niece on the cheek. “Tomorrow we’re going into Amsterdam to see all the museums we can. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

“Oh yes! Will Uncle Dalton go with us?”

“Yes, he promised to take the day of so we could all go together and have a good family time.”

****

Gabby’s time in Holland had gone by so quickly she could hardly believe it was practically time to return to England.
She picked up the telegram that had come a few days before and reread it.
Finished quicker than expected. Will board ship soon. Be ready for France. Dad.
A good feeling came over Gabby as she read it. She had been happy with her uncle and aunt, and she and Betje had made up after their disagreement and spent the days pleasantly enough. But she missed her parents and was anxious to go to Paris and see her grandfather.

As she straightened the room and made the bed, she sang “It Had to Be You” under her breath. She reflected on some of the articles she had recently read in the newspaper about life in America.
It sounds like they’ve all gone crazy,
she thought.
Throwing off all restraint. I wouldn’t like that.

Gabrielle Winslow liked stability more than adventure. She had found it at home with her parents, as well as in the home of Dalton and Liza Burke. The world outside seemed to be spinning wildly around. The Great War had ended, but still the nations were jockeying for a position of power, while the people in America seemed to be on an unending search for new ways to indulge themselves. She could hardly believe the stories she read of what the wild, crazy youth in the States were doing. She had absolutely no desire for such things.

As she finished making the bed, she glanced out the window and saw her uncle hurrying down the brick walk that led to the front door.
Why would he be coming home? I thought he had classes all day.
It was unusual for him to come home during the day, and she hurried downstairs to see what was up.

As she reached the foot of the stairs, she saw her uncle and aunt huddled together, speaking in hushed tones. When Dalton noticed her, he broke off suddenly, his face twisted into a strange expression.

A cold hand seemed to grab her as she looked from her uncle to her aunt. Both of their faces were stretched taut, and both were pale. Suddenly, her aunt’s face seemed to break, and tears ran down her cheeks. As Liza put her hands over her face, Gabby suddenly knew what the news was and began to shake with fear.

“Is it . . . is it Mum and Dad?”

Dalton came forward and gently put his hands on her shoulders. He had tears in his eyes, and he struggled to get the words out. “You . . . you must be brave, my dear one.”

“What is it?” Gabby felt stiff, as if she had been paralyzed. Her lips were numb, and she could hardly speak.

“There was a terrible storm, and their ship—” Dalton broke off and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it across his face. He was a sentimental and emotional man, and his lips quivered as he continued. “The ship, my dear, went down.”

“Maybe they’re in a lifeboat.”

Dalton glanced at Liza before turning his gaze down to his shoes. “Maybe so, dear,” he whispered.

Liza joined the two of them and put her arms around both. For a moment Gabby could not even weep, and then the enormity of the situation overwhelmed her, and she began gasping out great sobs. Her aunt’s arms tightened around her, and she knew that all hope was gone—that her life would never be the same again.

****

Dalton Burke held the Delft china cup with both hands. The fragrance of the strong tea wafted up, but he paid no heed to it. His ordinarily cheerful face was drawn tight. As he looked over toward his wife, he was worried about the weight she had lost since the devastating news.
It’s been two weeks,
he thought,
and I still can’t believe they’re dead.
He had been very fond indeed of Liza’s brother and his wife. They had been most kind to him, and because he had few relatives, the loss had hit him almost as hard as it had Liza. “We must do
something,
dear,” he finally said.

“I know, Dalton. I haven’t been able to think. It’s almost as if the sun has gone out. I . . . I feel so bad for poor Gabby.” Liza clasped her hands together and stared down at them. She had slept little over the past two weeks, and her cheeks
were sunken from the weight loss. She looked across the table with grief in her eyes. “I can’t believe that Lance and Jo are gone! So quick . . . with no warning at all!”

“It’s hard to make any sense of it. Of course death can take any of us, at any time, but when we’re the ones left here, we realize how fragile life is.”

“Did you show Gabby the letter from the Maritime Board?” They had received a formal notice stating there were no survivors from the wreck. There had been no hope in any case, but this had closed a final door on the lives of the two people they loved so dearly.

“No, I hate to do it. It takes away her last hope.”

“I don’t think she really has any hope. She’s like a ghost, Dalton.”

“I know. She’s going to be ill if she doesn’t start eating soon.”

“They were her life. I don’t know how she’s going to bear it or what she will do.”