More Than Words Read online

  The taller of the Gypsies motioned to me. “My friend needs some new boots. You can help us, please.”

  With my lips set in a tight line, I strode across the room. “They will not be free. You must pay.”

  He nudged the one known as Zurca. “Show her your money.”

  Zurca withdrew a pouch from his pocket and dumped several coins into his dirty palm. “Your grandmother said they would be a gift.”

  “Hold your tongue, Zurca. You will pay for the boots.” The tall Gypsy gave a slight bow. “I am Loyco, the leader of our group. There is no reason to be afraid of us. We mean no harm. We just need a few supplies, and Zurca needs new boots.”

  “Are the women putting your needed supplies in their pockets while I help you with the boots?” His rumbling laughter came from deep inside. Sudden creases formed alongside his dark twinkling eyes. I was certain he was laughing at me, but his laughter didn’t answer my question. If my father was correct about the Gypsies and their penchant for stealing, this Loyco could be keeping me occupied while the women filled their pockets with our merchandise. Still, I couldn’t be in four or five places at once.

  “The women are looking; they do not steal.” He hesitated a moment before he grinned. “Unless I give them the signal to help themselves. Would you like to see?”

  “No!” My shout caused Loyco to jerk backward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. But please don’t tell them to take anything unless they intend to pay.”

  Though he’d assured me they would not steal, I continued to sneak an occasional look in the direction of the women.

  “You are not like your brother, are you?”

  I snapped around to face Loyco. “What do you mean? How do you know my brother?”

  He pointed to a pair of black leather boots. “Try this pair, Zurca.” Loyco pulled the boots from the shelf, handed them to Zurca, and turned to me. “The boy Stefan comes to our camp to visit. He said his family was in charge of the store. Did he lie to me?”

  “He didn’t lie. Stefan is my brother, and you can see that we run the store. But what do you mean I’m not like him? You speak as though you know him.”

  “Slide your foot forward and pull from the back of the boot, Zurca. You cannot stomp your way into them.” Loyco glanced over his shoulder as he leaned down to show Zurca. “Your brother is a trusting soul, but you are suspicious of everyone. Still, I think you may have some of your brother’s trust hidden deep inside.” He tapped his chest with his fingertips.

  I wasn’t interested in Loyco’s impression of me, but I did want to know more about Stefan’s visits to the Gypsy camp. “How many times has my brother visited your camp?”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “How can I know? I don’t keep count. He comes at least once a day. Sometimes twice. He has grown to love my horse and is learning to ride very well.”

  My heart collided against my chest with heavy thumping beats. I couldn’t be certain if my reaction was one of fear or anger. Stefan had promised that he wouldn’t return to the Gypsy camp, yet he was going there every day. And now the Gypsies were coming into our store, acting as though he was their friend. Had Stefan been within hearing distance, I would have given him an earful. He’d soon discover his disobedient behavior would no longer remain a secret. Vater needed to know of his rebellion.

  Loyco’s eyes twinkled, and I could see he was taking great pleasure in my discomfort. “I would be very pleased to have you visit our camp. And if you have enough courage, you could ride my horse, too.”

  “I will not visit your camp, and I have no interest in your horse. And you will not see my brother in your camp in the future. You can be sure of that.”

  Once again his laughter filled the room. “We shall see. For now, Zurca will buy these boots. Unless you do not want to take his money.”

  “Of course I will take his money.” I gestured to Zurca to follow me. “You can bring the boots to the counter and pay for them.”

  Instead of following me, Zurca clapped his hands overhead and shuffled his feet in a bouncing dance step. When he finally stopped dancing, he pointed to his feet. “I will wear the boots. They make my feet happy.”

  I glanced at Loyco, who shrugged and grinned. “They make his feet happy. That is a good thing.”

  I thought they’d both taken leave of their senses. No wonder Oma enjoyed their company. Their ideas were as foolish and muddled as hers!

  The three women were gathered by the door. I couldn’t tell if they’d picked up any of our goods, but I longed to check their skirts and see what I might find in their pockets. I calculated the cost of the boots and handed Zurca his change.

  “They will be perfect for the wedding, don’t you think?” Zurca said.

  My startled reaction pleased him, and he laughed. “This is a serious woman, Loyco. She needs to learn how to laugh, don’t you think?”

  Loyco grinned and agreed. “She is too worried to laugh. Once we are out of her store, she will be happy. Am I correct, Gretchen?”

  Gretchen. How did he know my name?

  As if he’d read my thoughts, he bowed his head close. “I used no magic. Your brother told me your name. But if you come to our camp, we will read your future in the Tarot cards.”

  I shook my head. “I have no desire for your fortune-telling. I do not believe in such things.”

  He signaled to one of the women by the door, and she scampered across the room. She stood beside Loyco, watching as he grabbed my hand and held it palm up on the counter. “What do you see, Alija?”

  I tried to wrench free, but he held my hand tight to the counter. The woman’s bright-colored scarf draped over one shoulder. She studied my palm and then lifted her head to look at me, her leathery skin wrinkled with age. “This one keeps secrets. And she has a new man in her life.” Her bony fingers trembled as she signaled Loyco to release my hand. “I tell no more unless she pays. Maybe the man is you, eh, Loyco?” She cackled and scuttled back to the other women.

  I yanked away as if I’d been burned by a hot flame. “I told you I didn’t want—”

  “Loyco! I didn’t know you were going to come here,” Stefan said as he burst through the door, his eyes wide and shining with fear. His eyes darted around the store before momentarily settling on me and then on Loyco.

  “Stefan, my little friend. It is good to see you. Zurca needed some new boots, so we bring business to your family.”

  He obviously expected Stefan to thank him for the gesture. Instead, my brother stared at Zurca’s boots, his eyes glimmering with fear. When Zurca finally stuck out his boot and pretended to step on Stefan’s toe, my brother finally gained his voice. “They look good. Nice and shiny. A gut fit, ja?”

  Zurca nodded. “A very good fit.” Once again he broke into dance, and one of the women joined him.

  My full attention was focused upon the Gypsies and my brother when Oma reappeared, pushed the Gypsy woman aside, and began to dance with Zurca. My stomach knotted, and I swiped my damp palms down my skirt. Zurca tipped his head back, laughed, and spun in circles with his arms extended overhead. Oma lifted her skirt to her ankles and hopped from foot to foot, trying to keep pace with the Gypsy. Even the three women had joined in, adding to the commotion.

  Oma shoved me aside and shrieked in protest when I drew near. I balled my hands into tight fists and spun around to face Loyco. “Tell Zurca to quit his foolish dancing. Can’t you see my grandmother is going to fall and hurt herself?”

  His voice booming, Loyco shouted the command. Hands still poised above his head, Zurca ceased the clapping and slowly lowered his arms while the women scuttled back to the door. Only Oma failed to obey Loyco’s order. She continued to circle around Zurca, hopping from foot to foot and clapping her hands. When Zurca didn’t follow suit, she looped arms with him and tried to swing him into motion. His heavy boots remained planted in place, and she nearly tumbled to her nose.

  I rushed to help her regain her footing, but Zurca caught her shoulders and
set her aright. I turned to give Loyco a see-what-I-mean look, but he shook his head, irritation twitching at his lips. “You’re the one who wanted them to stop dancing. The old woman was having no trouble until you insisted they stop.”

  My grandmother turned and strutted toward Loyco swinging her hips like a young girl. She tipped her head and batted her lashes at him. “Who do you call an old woman?”

  He chuckled and pointed at me. “That one. She acts like an old woman. You should teach her how to have fun.” He snapped his thumb and forefinger together and glanced in my direction. “Even better, maybe I should be the one to teach you how to have fun.” He leaned toward me until his lips were close to my ear. “Maybe I will—”

  “Gretchen! Is there a problem?” Shoulders squared, Conrad marched into the store with an air of authority I’d seldom seen him exhibit.

  My mind whirred with thoughts of what he’d seen as he approached the doorway. My lips felt as though they’d been pasted with glue. Before I could worry overmuch about answering, Oma scurried toward Conrad and pulled on his hand. “Come with me, pretty boy. Here’s my pretty boy.” A hint of color shadowed Conrad’s high cheekbones, but he walked alongside Oma while she continued to cling to his hand.

  Zurca placed his palm on his chest. “You have broken my heart, Helga. Already you have forgotten me and got yourself a new love.”

  “Not her.” Alija pointed her bony finger at me. “It’s that one who has a new man in her life.” She slapped Zurca’s arm. “You never listen, you fool.”

  Zurca rubbed his arm and shouted a curse in return. Before Alija could respond, Loyco stepped forward. “We will now leave!” With a waving motion, he directed the group toward the door. “Farewell, Stefan!” He saluted my brother, then looked at me and winked. “Farewell, Gretchen.”

  Unable to believe the man’s bold behavior, I stood transfixed until Conrad touched my arm. “Did he wink at you? And what did that Gypsy woman mean? Who is this new man in your life?” His eyes shifted toward the door and then back at me. His look of confusion faded to sudden disbelief. “You are in love with a Gypsy?”

  CHAPTER 7

  During the two weeks since the Gypsies visited our store, I’d been writing in my journal to relieve my frustrations. There was a page and a half devoted to Conrad and his inability to understand what had occurred that day. How he could have ever thought I’d be in love with a Gypsy—much less one I’d met for the first time that very day—still baffled me. It had taken another page to expound upon my frustration when he’d been unable to understand why I hadn’t sent for his assistance the minute the Gypsies arrived. Did he truly think I could leave them alone in the store while I dashed to the barbershop? Was I to leave Oma alone with Zurca? Granted, I could have sent Stefan when he finally returned home from school, but my mind wasn’t focused upon seeking his help. Instead, I’d been shocked to learn that my brother had been visiting the Gypsy camp daily. I was more concerned about Stefan’s miscreant behavior than in seeking help at the barbershop.

  Many days later, after several discussions, Conrad admitted much of his anger had been fired by jealousy. A fact he was slow to admit, but one that left me feeling both embarrassed and treasured. From that point on we pushed aside any annoyance or disappointment with each other. And the fact that the Gypsies hadn’t reappeared made it easier to forget the entire incident.

  Stefan admitted his wrongdoing, and I agreed to keep his secret. Once again, he promised he wouldn’t go to the Gypsy camp, and since he’d been coming home directly after school each day, I was confident he’d been good to his word.

  I finished the ledgers and pulled out my journal. Thoughts for a poem had come to mind as I drifted off to sleep the night before, and I wanted to get them on paper this morning to see where they would lead. I’d written only a few lines when the front door opened. Expecting to see one of the neighbors needing a spool of thread or a packet of needles, I didn’t immediately look up from my writing. Not until the sound of heavy footfalls drew near did I venture a glance.

  My breath caught in my throat. “Mr. Finley. What a surprise. I didn’t think you’d return this soon.”

  He scratched his forehead as though the comment had confused him. “Truly? Then I’m pleased I could surprise you.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’ve checked in to the hotel, and I’m ready to learn all you can teach me about your fine community.”

  I closed my journal and slipped it beneath the counter. “I think any instruction will be given by one of the elders, Mr. Finley. You can go to the barn and check with Brother Heinrich Denton. He’s an elder and can answer your questions, if he’s not too busy at the moment.” I met Mr. Finley’s intense gaze and immediately looked away. “Have you met Brother Heinrich? He’s tall and somewhat sharp-featured.”

  “A beak of a nose, pronounced cheekbones, a thatch of unruly dark hair, right?”

  Mr. Finley had rightfully described Brother Heinrich, but I hesitated to agree with such an unkind depiction of the kindhearted farm Baas. “He does have dark hair and high cheekbones. Were you at the barn earlier today?”

  “No, but I rented a carriage from him last time I visited.” He twirled the brim of his straw hat between his fingers. “Seemed nice enough, but I believe I’d rather wait until your father returns. Is that a problem?”

  I shook my head. “No, of course not. You’re welcome to wait here. There’s a bench back by the shoes if you’d care to sit down.”

  He leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in one palm. “I’d rather just stand here and stare at your beautiful face.”

  I looked away, surprised by his boldness. “We do not speak in such a manner, Mr. Finley.”

  He chuckled. “You see? I knew you’d be willing to teach me. You just needed a place to begin. Why don’t you explain why it’s improper to tell a person she possesses pleasant features? One glance in a looking glass is enough to affirm such a statement.”

  “It could cause a person to become vain, and it is the inner person that is important, Mr. Finley. Beautiful features are nothing when compared to fine character, wouldn’t you agree?” He didn’t immediately respond, so I continued to explain. “We have no choice about our physical appearance, but we do choose how we will treat others and whether we will live in a godly manner.”

  For a long moment, he pursed his lips together and appeared to be in deep thought. “But you must agree that a lovely physical appearance isn’t a bad thing.”

  “No, it isn’t bad. But it is much less important than inner beauty.”

  His loud guffaw startled me.

  “You find my answer funny?”

  He covered his mouth with his palm but continued to laugh. “No offense intended.” The muffled words filtered through his fingers. He finally ceased laughing and dropped his hand. “I was picturing the process of looking down someone’s throat to view their inner beauty.” When I didn’t join in his laughter, he chided me. “Come now, surely you can see how humorous that would be.”

  “I suppose there is a bit of humor to be found in what you’ve said.” In truth, I wondered why any person in his right mind would have such a curious thought. Had my grandmother made the strange remark, I wouldn’t have been surprised. She didn’t have full control of her mind. But Mr. Finley was an intelligent businessman who didn’t appear to have any mental problems. At least none that I’d previously observed. Maybe I just didn’t understand the humor of outsiders.

  “Tell me, Miss Kohler, what did you think of the magazines I left with you? Did you find any of the articles or poems of interest?”

  “Yes. All of them.” I blurted out the admission without thinking.

  A slow smile curved his lips. “So you didn’t destroy them. I’m pleased to know you’re interested in learning and expanding your horizons.”

  “I read them only because I enjoy writing and wanted to see how I could improve my skills.” My excuse was weak, but it was the only defense I could offer. B
esides, it held a modicum of truth. I’d studied the poems and stories at length. And despite Mina’s assessment, I believed my writings had improved over the past weeks.

  He lifted his case to the counter and opened the latches. “My instincts told me you were a young woman with a penchant for learning, so I brought along some books you might enjoy.” He pushed the case toward me so I could view the bounty inside. “You may keep them as long as you’d like.”

  A deep sense of longing washed over me. I’d never before experienced such a strong desire to possess anything in my life. I lifted one of the books from the case and read the title. Anna Karenina. My excitement mounted as I flipped through the pages. I picked up the next one and smiled. The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song. “They look like books I would very much enjoy.”

  He nodded and picked up another. “This is Lorna Doone and there’s Tennyson’s Poetical Works. I chose books from my library that I thought you would enjoy. Once you’ve read those, I’d be happy to share others with you.”

  To accept the books would be considered unsuitable. I did, after all, have better things to do with my time. Yet to learn was a good thing. I reasoned that reading these books would expand my mind and teach me new writing skills. And the books weren’t a gift. I would return them to Mr. Finley once I’d read them. Surely it couldn’t be improper to borrow some books. My insides quivered, and I glanced toward the front door. If I was convinced borrowing the books wasn’t unacceptable, why was I frightened someone would see me?

  I forced the thought aside. “I would be pleased to read these books, Mr. Finley, and I will see to their gut care.”