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Check out today's featured Kindle titles!
The Color of Seven
a Books We Love dark fantasy suspense
a Books We Love dark fantasy suspense
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Deep in the woods that slide off into Stone Creek Swamp, teenage drug dealers retrieve their stash and receive an unexpected dividend—the unwitting resurrection of Cain, powerful Bokor of Black Magic. Atop Coleman Hill, two young attorneys renovate a decrepit relic for their home and office. A house with a past it wants to share, gifting rising young attorney Ria Knight with tantalizing scenes of its original owner. The past, like evil, never dies. It just—waits.
What if you went to sleep plain and woke up beautiful -- or vice versa?
An "Ugly Betty" and a Popular Beauty wind up trading faces -- and lives -- and the situation is not what either one expected!
How do they get their own lives back? And who ends up with what guy?
From history shrouded in myths, emerges a family of immortal Celtic Ladies, who roam the medieval world in search of salvation from a curse. For centuries, imbued with hereditary gifts, they hide their deadly secret... but if the Church ever suspects what they really are, they will be hunted, tortured, and burned at the stake.
Queen of Elinas at last, Pressine fears the curse that could bring her downfall. For the love of Elinas, she will tempt fate and become with child. But when her indomitable passion challenges the wrath of the Goddess Herself... can she win that battle?
Sean Cassidy’s senior year in high school might be labeled ‘How not to impress your girlfriend’. After his dad deserted him, he turns to dares and stunts to prove his worth. Angie tries to talk him out of his obsession but has no more luck than his mom, Sheila. When he plans one last stunt with the hot car his dad had left him, Sean may have made the mistake of his short life.
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What if you went to sleep plain and woke up beautiful -- or vice versa?
An "Ugly Betty" and a Popular Beauty wind up trading faces -- and lives -- and the situation is not what either one expected!
How do they get their own lives back? And who ends up with what guy?
Pagan Queen (Curse of the Lost Isle Book 2)
5.stars - 2 reviews $2.99
From history shrouded in myths, emerges a family of immortal Celtic Ladies, who roam the medieval world in search of salvation from a curse. For centuries, imbued with hereditary gifts, they hide their deadly secret... but if the Church ever suspects what they really are, they will be hunted, tortured, and burned at the stake.
Queen of Elinas at last, Pressine fears the curse that could bring her downfall. For the love of Elinas, she will tempt fate and become with child. But when her indomitable passion challenges the wrath of the Goddess Herself... can she win that battle?
$2.99
Sean Cassidy’s senior year in high school might be labeled ‘How not to impress your girlfriend’. After his dad deserted him, he turns to dares and stunts to prove his worth. Angie tries to talk him out of his obsession but has no more luck than his mom, Sheila. When he plans one last stunt with the hot car his dad had left him, Sean may have made the mistake of his short life.
Few people realize that being Gypsy in 1943 Poland was as dangerous and frightening as being a Jew.
Gypsy Spirit tells the heartbreaking and inspirational story of a Gypsy family in war-torn Poland who fought to escape the relentless persecution of the Nazis.
Gypsy Spirit tells the heartbreaking and inspirational story of a Gypsy family in war-torn Poland who fought to escape the relentless persecution of the Nazis.
Three half-gypsy sisters...
Mayla escapes to Switzerland.
Vanya joins her partisan lover in the fight against the Germans.
15-year-old Zilka -- the youngest sister and the most passionate about the Gypsy way of life -- refuses to leave her beloved father and Gypsy community behind.
How will she survive?
Watch Zilka's life change in an instant in this Free Kindle Nation Shorts excerpt from
Here's the set-up:
Gypsy Spirit is Book 1 of Rita Karnopp's Tango of Death series published by Books We Love.
It is guessed that between five hundred thousand to one million Gypsies perished during the Holocaust, the Porraimos (the devouring) as the Gypsies called it.
Gypsy Spirit is the story of fifteen year-old Zilka Sucuri, a Gypsy girl who is thrust into the horrors of the Holocaust. Her life of traveling from town to town, singing and dancing the Gypsy way comes to an unconscionable stop when a SS death squad shoot every man, woman, and child in her kumpania. If she had not literally been up a tree, she would have been among those lying dead in a mass grave.
Her lungo drom (the long road) takes her across Poland, Austria, and Germany in a driving struggle to help an American pilot return safely to his unit so he can return to bomb the many concentration, work, and death camps all across Poland and Germany. Her efforts reveal the truths of Belzec, the challenges of the partisans, and the burning desire to survive to be a living witness of what truly happened to the non-Aryans of Hitler’s Germany.
Gypsy Spirit is a story of the driving spirit of a Gypsy girl, who took it upon herself to document the truth. Her strength and determination brings to light a story of magnanimity and the fears and atrocities such a Gypsy girl might have lived through.
It is guessed that between five hundred thousand to one million Gypsies perished during the Holocaust, the Porraimos (the devouring) as the Gypsies called it.
Gypsy Spirit is the story of fifteen year-old Zilka Sucuri, a Gypsy girl who is thrust into the horrors of the Holocaust. Her life of traveling from town to town, singing and dancing the Gypsy way comes to an unconscionable stop when a SS death squad shoot every man, woman, and child in her kumpania. If she had not literally been up a tree, she would have been among those lying dead in a mass grave.
Her lungo drom (the long road) takes her across Poland, Austria, and Germany in a driving struggle to help an American pilot return safely to his unit so he can return to bomb the many concentration, work, and death camps all across Poland and Germany. Her efforts reveal the truths of Belzec, the challenges of the partisans, and the burning desire to survive to be a living witness of what truly happened to the non-Aryans of Hitler’s Germany.
Gypsy Spirit is a story of the driving spirit of a Gypsy girl, who took it upon herself to document the truth. Her strength and determination brings to light a story of magnanimity and the fears and atrocities such a Gypsy girl might have lived through.
5-star praise from Amazon readers:
"Gypsy Spirit completely captivated me as I learned from its historical background. This is Rita Karnopp's best novel yet."
"...a bone-chilling, fast-paced novel that kept me on the edge of my seat...a well-researched page-turner..."
"I really don't know much about this time of history. It makes my heart hurt so I usually stay away from it. However this book was both informational and entertaining....Well done!"
an excerpt from
Gypsy Spirit
(Tango of Death)
by Rita Karnopp
Copyright © 2012 by Rita Karnopp and published here with her permission
DEDICATION
For centuries, the people known as Gypsies roamed Europe. They preferred lungo drom, ‘the long road’; they had no home and wanted none. Their life was an endless journey to nowhere in particular.
It is widely recognized that the persecution and murder of the Roma and Sinti Gypsies have been largely overlooked by most scholars studying the Holocaust. Because most Romani communities of Eastern Europe were much less organized than the Jewish communities, it has been more difficult to assess the actual number of victims, though it is believed to range from 220,000 to 1,500,000.
The first memorial commemorating victims of the Romani Holocaust was erected on May 8, 1956, in the Polish village of Szczurowa commemorating the Szczurowa massacre. In 1996 a Gypsy Caravan Memorial crossed the main remembrance sites in Poland, from Tarnów via Auschwitz, Szczurowa and Borzęcin Dolny, gathering the Gypsies and wellwishers in remembrance of those murdered during the Nazi regime
I dedicate this book to those Gypsies who found their free spirit stolen from them without provocation or justification … and to the survivors who bore witness of what truly happened … and to their descendants who now carry on the free spirit of the Gypsy.
I wrote this story to create awareness and to pay homage to those Gypsies who lost their lives during the porraimos (the devouring), as the Gypsies called the Holocaust.
Being of Polish decent, I’ve been drawn to the struggles and incredible spirit it took to survive this unconscionable time in history. I pray this book touches your spirit with compassion and new understanding.
Poland—Slovakia—Germany, 1943
Chapter One
The twins ran past Zilka, their skirts blowing in the breeze nearly tripping them. The coins tied to their blouses jingled with each step. Their laughter carried on the wind.
“Mayla, Vanya, where you running off to?” Zilka hoped they’d ask her to join them.
“Varekai,” Mayla shouted.
Zilka stomped her foot and frowned at them. “Don’t ‘wherever’ me. I know you’re headed to the pond. You want the boys to find you. I’m telling papa.”
“Shush, you baby. Don’t be tellin’ papa anything or I’ll tell him you and Petre’ were up in that tree last night.”
“You keep your tongue or I’ll tell papa you and Vilas were kissing out by the horses this morning.”
“Quiet, both of you, before everyone knows, including papa.” Mayla leaned toward the girls and whispered. “A vardo came in late last night.”
“Just one? Why would just one wagon come?” Vanya asked.
“Who was it?” Zilka looked around the encampment and adjusted the woven flower ring on her head.
“It was a family of diddakois,” Mayla answered with an exaggerated expression of distaste.
“So what, we’re a family of half-Gypsies.” Zilka shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“They stayed with Natsi’s family. She said they were nervous and scared. They all went to the Shero Rom and talked and argued for hours before finally settling down for the night.”
“What were they arguing about?” Vanya whispered.
“I asked Natsi, but she didn’t know. The diddakois did a lot of crying.”
“You think they were sent away from their kumpania and they want to join ours?”
“We’ll have to ask papa. He’ll know.” Mayla reached over and pulled on Zilka’s necklace.
“Atch,” she shouted, then grabbed Mayla’s long, sandy braid and gave it a tug.
“You little schej.” She yanked Zilka’s flowers down over her eyes and ran. Vanya followed on her heels.
Zilka smiled. She loved it when the twins called her a little Gypsy girl. The early morning chill sent her fetching a shawl before following them. Their house on wheels snuggled under a tree on the edge of camp. Zilka smiled. She loved the blue and green carved gilded spokes that housed a sitting space just outside the front door. The windows of the wagon were covered by lace curtains and the wheel spokes were painted gold. The curved roof edges were carved and painted yellow and red from which they hung copper ornaments.
She picked up her shawl and readjusted the flowers she always wore.
“Bajram, you cannot be serious. Mayla deserves a much younger man than Istvan Radita. Even his son, Ivan would be a better choice. She will never agree to it.”
“We should never have promised the girls they could approve or disapprove their tumnimos. Mayla is the eldest and must choose her betrothed first. They are all getting too old for me to arrange marriages for them. We should have taken care of this long ago.”
It wasn’t right to listen to her parent’s conversation, yet Zilka couldn’t bring herself to leave.
“Bajram, you are a good taj and the girls love you.”
“A good father would do what’s best for them even if they don’t understand. They know I love them and want them happy. I’m the laughingstock of our kumpania where the girls are concerned.”
Zilka smiled to herself. Everyone knew Bajram Sucuri could not say no to his girls. He was fiercely strict and protected them, but in the end the girls had the last word. There would be no abiav until Mayla agreed to marry. Then they’d have a fabulous wedding feast.
“What if Rosalia and Adam Bogdan are telling the truth? We must—“
“You want to divorce me and go back to the city? Would you take my chavis from me? It would tear my heart out, Elise.”
“You know I love you, Bajram,” Elise stifled her emotions. “If the SS are now arresting Gypsies, we must consider what this means.”
Zilka sat and leaned her shoulder against the front door, afraid what she would hear next.
“It can’t be true,” Bajram slammed his fist on top the wooden table. “We are German citizens.”
“We are also Gypsies.”
“No. I am Gypsy,” Bajram shouted. “You are Aryan and our chavis are mischlinge.”
“Yes the girls are of mixed ancestry, but they could easily pass as Aryan because they are jenische. Maybe being a white Gypsy is a blessing now. I could take them to my grandmother’s chalet in Switzerland. We could wait out the war there until you return for us. I am not divorcing you.”
“I’m not convinced we have to do this. We should wait until we can confirm these rumors. What if—“
“We can’t take the chance. We have to think of our girls….”
Zilka didn’t want to listen to another word. She bolted from the wagon and ran down the trail. A sharp rock pierced the bottom of her bare foot and she hobbled a short time, then sped ahead. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her face.
“We’re over here, Zilka!”
She heard Vanya in the distance. Blinded by tears, she ran along the edge of the pond. Finally out of breath, she stopped and sat on the dry shore. Pulling her legs into her chest, she cried until it hurt.
“Zilka, why on earth did you keep running?” Vanya asked, gasping for breath.
“Are you okay?” Mayla slid her arm around Zilka’s back.
“I heard mama and papa talking.” She paused and hiccupped. “They said they were going to make Mayla marry Radita.”
“Ivan is actually really nice. He has been—“
“Not Ivan. His father, Istvan.”
“What? That is dinilo. He’s almost as old as papa.” Mayla stood and paced back and forth. “I won’t do it.”
“You won’t have to.” Zilka wiped her wet cheeks with her palms.
“You’re not making any sense. Why are you crying?” Vanya sat and pulled Zilka’s hand between hers.
“Mama is leaving papa and is taking us to our gadze’ grandmother.”
“No, that can’t be true.” Disbelief edged Mayla’s tone. “In Switzerland? Why would she do that? You must have heard wrong.” She sat next to Zilka.
“No, I know what I heard. It has something to do with those people who came last night. Papa said the SS were arresting Gypsies. Mama is going to make us look like gadze’—“
“She wouldn’t leave papa,” Vanya interrupted.
“I’m not going to dress like a non-Gypsy. I refuse to act like a gadze’ and pretend to be only Aryan. I won’t leave papa and Petre.” Zilka wiped at the new stream of tears. She found comfort sandwiched between her sisters.
“We need to talk with mama and papa,” Mayla suggested.
“They can’t make us leave. This is our jamarokher. We are not gadze’ and we’ll never think like them. Never to travel. To be confined to one town. It is not for me.” Zilka pulled her flower ring off her head and studied the yellow and pink flowers. It always brought her comfort – until now.
“It is our home, schej,” Vanya soothed. “Let’s see what mama and papa have to say before we get all upset and worried.”
Zilka allowed her sisters to pull her to her feet. A dark cloud settled over her as they headed back to their vardo. She had not known such unhappiness. How could she leave papa? She would stay with papa and the kumpania. How could she live without mama, Mayla and Vanya? New tears surfaced and freely rolled down her cheeks.
* * * * *
“What you’re telling us makes no sense.”
“Surely they didn’t … kill them,” Bajram said.
Zilka sat with her family, as did all the members of the camp. Such stillness for the large kumpania was unusual.
“You don’t have to believe us.” Adam Bogdan pulled Rosalie’s shoulder into his chest.
“Why didn’t they take you and your family, too?” Shero Rom, Ljatif Nyari, asked.
“My horse threw a shoe and so I settled our vardo in a clump of trees just short the camp. I took the horse into town and left him to be worked on. I would go back in the morning to get him and join the kumpania later.”
“We could see the main camp lights from our vardo. They weren’t all that far ahead of us. Adam turned out our lights and we settled down for the night. The children were exhausted and I must admit, we were quite tired, too. Instead of talking like we usually do, we settled down next to Stane and Kallai and quickly were asleep.” Rosalia’s voice cracked and she swallowed hard.
“We hadn’t slept more than a couple hours when we heard several guns fire. I jumped awake and asked Rosalia to keep the children quiet. Shortly thereafter we heard crying and shouting from the camp. I told my wife that I was going to go and check it out and they should stay in the vardo.”
“I could not,” Rosalia interrupted. “I could not have him go and never come back to me. So I followed him with the children. Stan is fourteen and Kallai is ten, they know how to keep quiet. So we—“
“We quietly moved in the woods … closer … and closer … until we could see what was happening.”
“Who were they?” someone asked in a hushed tone.
Zilka glanced around the circle of people. Silence and fear stared back at her.
Adam shifted his feet, then continued, “I think there were eight or ten black-uniformed SS officers with guns rounding everyone up. The twin silver flashes on their collars flared in the firelight. They made the men hang their wives and older daughters.” Adam cried into his hands.
Everyone remained silent, respectfully waiting for him to continue. Zilka welcomed the comforting arms of the twins as they sandwiched her between them as they always did.
With shaking palms, Adam rubbed his cheeks, then cleared his throat. “They ordered the men to dig a deep hole and throw their … throw the dead into it. At gunpoint they had the men hold their young children and stand at the edge of the trench … and shot them down.” Adam choked back the lump in his throat. “Once it was done they drove away laughing and talking like they had just stopped for a casual gathering. They didn’t even cover them.”
Zilka wiped at the tear that rolled down her cheek. She glanced around at the members of their kumpania. Adam and Rosalia’s loss showed deeply on the faces of the men and women alike.
The Shero Rom swallowed and quickly drank some wisniak made from wild cherries. “Were they … are you Kelerari?”
“Yes, from Poland. They were our entire kumpania. We have no one left.” Rosalia’s cry tore from the depths of her soul. Stane and Kallai clung to her.
“You are not alone. We are all Gypsies here. You are now part of our kumpania. We will have a great celebration to welcome you at a proper time. Right now our council must meet and decide what we should do.”
“We must go to Hungary where there are no Germans,” someone shouted out.
“Maybe we could hide out in the Matra Mountains until this nonsense stops. They can’t kill Jews and Gypsy forever.”
“Only until there are none left perhaps.” Ljatif Nyari rose and leaned his leader stick against the arm of the chair. “It is my responsibility as your Shero Rom to lead you as it was my father before him and his father before him. We have always been persecuted in one way or another. We have always felt the hatred of the gadze’. But this hatred is different. It has no conscience.”
“Where will we go?”
“Who can we trust?”
Zilka shook as the crowd grew louder and frenzied.
Ljatif raised his arms and patted his palms downward, encouraging them to quiet down. “All good questions my people, all good questions. Our council will discuss this matter. Right now everyone should go back to their vardos and pack your belongings. What you don’t need you must leave behind. Our wagons must be as light as we can make them.”
“We cannot just leave our beloved possessions behind,” Johann cried out.
“My dear Mrs. Debarre, would you rather have your children to your breast or your belongings? It is that simple, my people. We are at a crossroads of decisions. I do not want you to be wiped from this earth as Adam and Rosalia’s kumpania was. Hurry … hurry and prepare for another lungo drom.”
People rushed away in every direction. Zilka allowed her sisters to each take a hand and guide her back to their vardo. “Will the SS men find us and make papa hang us?” Her voice choked back with fear.
“No, schej, we will not let that happen to you. Papa won’t let anything happen to us.”
“Girls, come inside. Papa and I must talk to you quickly.”
Zilka glanced at Vanya, then Mayla. She didn’t miss the uneasiness and sadness in their postures. “I’m not going to be a gadze’.”
“Shhh.” Mayla patted Zilka’s shoulder.
She sat on a blanket between her sisters. Never had there been such tension between her parents. Papa glanced around the small area, careful not to look them in the eyes. He washed his hand in the male wash bowl, careful not to drip water into the female or vegetable and fruit rinsing basins. Mama handed him a towel, then fussed with her coin necklace as she always did when uncomfortable.
“Mama and I have been discussing what we should do. Our Shero Rom must protect the kumpania as is his responsibility. My responsibility is with my family, all of you. What is happening around us is serious. We can’t afford to make any wrong decisions. I must decide what is best for each of you. It is my decision you girls will go with your mama to Switzerland and –“
“I will not go! I will not leave jamaro kher. I will not leave you papa,” Zilka stood and clenched her fists to her sides. “I wish to stay and marry Petre Sidako.”
“It is not your decision!” Bjram Sucuri glanced down at his feet.
“Zilka, you will be safe with your grandmother. Papa will come and get us after the danger has passed. We will return to the kumpania after the war.”
Vanya stood, remaining silent for a short time. “I do not wish to go to Switzerland with mama. I will not stay with the kumpania either. I … I am going to marry Vilas Kochanowski and—“
“You will do no such thing!” Elise shouted.
“Mama, we are in love and—“
“He is partisan,” Bjram said. “Everyone in the kumpania knows this. I will not have my daughter running the countryside with a rifle and killing Germans. You will go with your mama. All of you will.”
“I will not!” Vanya ran from the wagon.
Zilka turned to follow but Mayla grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto her lap, holding her tight as she fought to get free. “Let me go. I want to go with her.”
“No, schej. You must stay here. She needs time alone to think.” Mayla wiped away the tears that streamed down her face.
“Mayla, go after your sister and make her come back. You two should not be separated.” Bajram pulled Elise into his side. “I am losing control of my family. Mama, find Vanya and take her with you. I cannot allow her to—“
“Papa, she just needs some time alone. She will come back like she always does. We don’t want to leave you and go with mama. But we will. Zilka is Gypsy in heart. She will not be happy being a bareforytka.”
“You won’t be big-town Gypsies if you go to your grandmother’s house to live.” Elise smoothed the front of her dress. “You will be Aryan. You will have to forget you have Gypsy blood. You will all go with me.”
“I’ll not go, mama. I could not live anything but the Gypsy way. I would rather die as a jenische than to live a gadze’. I will stay with papa. We must not all desert him.” Zilka stood, feet spread and placed her hands on her hips. “You cannot force me to leave the kumpania.”
“Zilka, you must stop this stubborn nonsense. It is for your own good.” Elise pressed her palms upward in exasperation.
“Mama, I love you. But if you force me to go with you I will only get you arrested. I will not dress or act gadze’.”
“Mama, Zilka has always been more Gypsy than the twins. She will be fine with me. We will take care of each other. Won’t we, schej?”
Zilka drew in a long breath and ran into the arms of her papa. He held her close to his heart and she closed her eyes. She was staying. What would life be without mama and her sisters? She didn’t want to think about it.
Chapter Two
Zilka rolled onto her back and stared up at the stars. “You won’t see anything like this in Switzerland.”
“Of course we will, schej. It will be the same stars and we will be thinking of you,” Mayla said.
“Exactly,” Vanya added. “We will be wondering if you’re staring up at the sky just like we are.
“I can’t imagine what it will be like … not to … be safe between you two. I don’t want you to go. Why can we stay and mama can go to grandmother’s?” Zilka choked back the emotions that built.
“Mama can’t go alone. Besides, she is only going to save us. If we stay then she will also have to stay. That saves no one in our family. We will all be arrested and—“
“Vanya, please say no more. It’s best not to upset Zilka more than she is. Schej, you belong here at the kumpania. You must take care of papa. If there is danger, you must promise you’ll hide. You must do whatever you can to survive.” Mayla sat and pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders.
“I promise. What if I never see you again? I can’t bear to see you both leave. I don’t want mama to go either. She shouldn’t be doing this. She should keep us together. She is wrong in this decision.” Zilka sat and leaned into Mayla.
“I’m not going with mama,” Vanya blurted out.
“You’re staying with papa and me! Oh, I’m so relieved and happy.” Zilka clapped her hands together.
“You’re not coming with me? We’ve never been apart. You must come with mama and me. I … we must stay together. Why have you decided to stay with papa?”
“I’m not … I … I’m running away with Vilas.” Vanya sat and faced her sisters.
“I’m telling you now because I need to say goodbye. I couldn’t just sneak out without telling you why I left.”
“You can’t leave,” Mayla shouted. “I will tell mama and papa before you run off. I won’t let you do this.”
Zilka grabbed Vanya’s hand. “Where are you going? Why would you not go with mama and Mayla or stay with papa and me? I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry, schej. I’m sorry Mayla. This hasn’t been an easy decision. I can’t tell Vilas goodbye. We’re in love. He’s leaving in the morning with the partisans. I’m going with him.”
“Vanya, you can’t possibly want to be a partisan. Could you carry a gun and kill Germans? Live in the woods with a bunch of people you don’t know? What are you thinking?” Mayla stood and paced back and forth.
“You don’t understand. You don’t even like Vilas.”
“That’s not true. I do like him. You two are great together. I don’t like him taking you away from me. Ask him to wait for you … and if he loves you he will agree. After the war is over—“
“We can’t wait that long to be together. I need your blessing, Mayla. I have given this a lot of thought. Now that mama wants us to go to Switzerland … well, I can’t go with you. I must follow my heart.”
“Mama will be devastated … I must go with her. Deep in my soul I know it’s the right thing to do.”
“Vanya, you want to follow your heart. Mayla, you talk about what you feel in your soul. Well I feel a need to protect my spirit. This is not good,” Zilka said. “Our family is breaking apart.”
“Maybe we are just growing up and choosing our own roads to travel,” Vanya said.
“We each must choose our own lungo drom,” Mayla nodded.
“I’m the only one willing to keep on the Gypsy long road. I believed we’d always be together. Why is it so wrong to be Gypsy?” Zilka cried into her hands. She clung to her sisters as they sandwiched her between them in a loving hug.
“You girls must come inside now,” Elise called out to them.
“Can we sleep under the stars tonight, mama?” Vanya asked.
“Please, we won’t get to sleep outside like this once we are in Switzerland. Please, mama,” Mayla pleaded.
“If we get cold we’ll come inside,” Zilka added.
“Alright. But don’t be up all night giggling and keeping others awake. If it gets cold you be sure to come inside so you don’t get sick.”
“Thank you, mama.” They sang in unison.
“You didn’t have to help me, but I’m glad you did,” Vanya whispered.
“We’re sisters, we … need to….” Mayla dropped to the blanket and smothered her tears into her pillow.
“Please, don’t cry.” Vanya leaned into her sister and rubbed her shoulder. “We knew this day would come sometime.”
“We must make a pact.” Zilka maneuvered between them.
“What do you mean?” Mayla asked.
“You know … an agreement to meet after the war so we know where to find each other.” Zilka looked at Mayla, then back at Vanya.
“That’s very clever, schej. Since Switzerland is neutral, as mama calls it, we should meet at Grandmother’s chalet.” Mayla rubbed her palms across her wet cheeks.
“I don’t think Grandmother would appreciate papa and me driving up to her fancy kher with our vardo. Do you?” Zilka giggled into her hands.
“Maybe not, but I don’t think there is any other place we could meet. If any of us are in trouble we must get word to mama. I think this is a good plan,” Vanya said.
Zilka fought back the tears that threatened to surface. “We all know the address and how to get there. Mama has talked about it ever since I can remember. I think she is happy to be going back. I’m angry at her.”
“Don’t be, schej. She is trying to keep us safe. We can’t be angry with her for missing her grandmother,” Mayla said.
“Do you think she is a Nazi?” Vanya asked.
“Bite your tongue, Vanya! You are already thinking like a partisan.” Mayla pulled the covers up under her neck. “When are you leaving?”
Silence surrounded them. “Shortly after papa turns out the wagon lights,” Vanya finally answered.
“Papa will be angry and mama will be hurt,” Mayla said.
“I told mama I loved her and hugged her earlier. It was my goodbye, she just didn’t know it. Papa talked to me about doing the right thing and making the right decision for me. I thanked him and we hugged a good long time. He will understand and mama will not.”
* * * * *
“Gone? What do you mean she’s gone?” Bajram Sucuri shouted.
“Gone. Vanya ran off with Vilas Kochanowski.”
“When. What I’d like to know now is when did she run off with this tshor?”
“Papa, that’s not nice. Vilas is a good man and they are in love.” Mayla trembled as she always did when he was this angry. “He is not a thief. Vanya went with him freely.”
“He isn’t man enough to come and ask if he can marry my daughter and you think he is good. He is a dilo if he thinks he will ever win my approval now. Go after your sister and bring her back here.”
“I could not find her if I wanted to. She was packed and rode off to meet Vilas shortly after your wagon lights went out. They—”
“You knew this and did not come tell us? Why? She left you and you let her? Twins should not be separated.”
“Papa, she had to choose her way as I must choose mine. I don’t like her choice, but I have to respect it. You taught us that. You told her just yesterday that she must always follow her heart.”
“We must go find her, Bajram. She must come with Mayla and me to Switzerland.” Elise wrung her hands together.
“This Vilas is a farmer? A businessman in a town? What? Tell me he’s more than just a partisan.” Bajram tossed his jacket across the room.
Zilka crossed her legs beneath her long skirt. “He’s just a partisan, papa. He kills Nazi pigs. I wish they had taken me with them. I’d like to hang their wives and daughters—“
“You stop that this minute, Zilka Sucuri,” Elise rushed across the wagon and kneeled next to her daughter. “Talk like that will get you killed. You must hold your tongue.” She looked over at Bajram. “She must come to Switzerland with me. Surely you must see what all this violence is doing to our daughter. I thought maybe staying here with you was her destiny. Now, I cannot agree. Before you know it she will be picking up a rifle and running off to kill some Germans. What will you do then?” Elise shook her head and closed her eyes.
“No! I will promise not to run off. I will do as papa says. I will never go to Switzerland until … after the war.” Zilka glanced quickly at Mayla and smiled.
“Zilka will remain with me,” Bajram said. “She does not belong among the gadze’ and we both know it. No amount of crying or pleading will change my mind. You have one daughter to take with you. Be happy you have that.”
“Bajram, I am not doing this for me. I want to protect my daughters from the Nazis. There is one way … and only one way I can do this. If you keep Zilka and she is killed by the Germans, I’ll never forgive you. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, wife, I hear you. She will die if I let her go with you. Better you hate me if something happens, than I lose all three of you because we forced her to go. I will not discuss this again. You will pack and be on your way after our noon meal.” Bajram stomped out of the wagon.
“Mama, you should not go,” Zilka said. “You are breaking up our family. This is not right. Papa is a Gypsy. He is proud to be a Gypsy. You are running back to your grandmother and pretending you have nothing to do with the Roma. I think you are ashamed of us.”
The sting of her mother’s palm across Zilka’s cheek shocked her. Mama had never laid a hand on her until now. Tears immediately surfaced.
“Mama, how could you?” Mayla shouted and pulled Zilka to her chest.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean … come to me.” Elise opened her arms. Her many gold coin bracelets clinked together.
Zilka clung to Mayla and shook her head. “Go to Switzerland. I never want to see you again.” She pulled from Mayla’s embrace and ran from the vardo. Blindly she raced from camp, heading toward the pond.
“Wait, schej!”
Zilka heard Mayla, but continued running. The sting of her mother’s slap revealed things had changed. Never had she placed anything but a loving hand on her before. Keeping on the path, Zilka headed for the shoreline. Overcome by it all, she sat facing the water. A family of ducks glided across the water in effortless motion.
“Must you always run so fast?” Mayla asked, gasping for air.
“Let her go. Stay with papa and me.”
“I wish I could. It just wouldn’t be right. If I don’t go with mama, I’ll go chasing after Vanya. I don’t think that is the life for me. The only choice I have then is Switzerland. Besides, we must have a place we can keep in touch. Mama taught us to write and you must send me a post now and then so I know how you two are doing. Just don’t let papa see you writing.”
“Mayla, why are the Nazis trying to kill us? What have we done to them? Why are they killing Jews? I keep asking myself these questions … and I can’t make any sense of it.”
“I don’t know, schej. I don’t think there is an answer.”
“Petre’ told me his brother was in Poland and saw a train had stopped for water. Cattle car after cattle car had a yellow Jew star painted on it. People were reaching their arms out between the bars. He heard them crying and begging for water. They were holding their babies to the openings so they could get some fresh air. Petre’ cried. Is that what they are doing to Gypsies?”
“I don’t know.”
“It scares me. I dream about those babies trying to get fresh air. I don’t understand what is going on.”
“Zilka, I know you are Gypsy in spirit but maybe you should come with mama and me. I can’t stand to be away from Vanya and now to not have you either … I don’t know if I can survive without my sisters. Come with us and I promise I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
“I wish I could, Mayla. Leaving the kumpania is the greatest fear of all. It’s a part of me. The people … the singing … the dancing … the freedom … the traveling … I would die if I left.”
“I know, schej. I know. We will be together again … I just know it. You, Vanya and me. When that day comes, we will never be apart again.”
* * * * *
Sulking, Zilka leaned against Mayla outside in the front door in the entry seating area of the vardo. Mayla had already finished her packing.
“The kumpania thinks I am divorcing you. Did you tell them that?” Elise tossed another skirt into the suitcase, then took it out and tossed it in a corner with the others.
“You know how it is. They believe if you leave and take my daughter with you that means you are cutting the ties that bind us. I have explained to the Shero Rom how it is with us. He does not understand. I am tired of explaining it.”
“You think I should stay?”
“We are no longer discussing. You and Mayla are leaving for Switzerland and that is final. Finish your packing. I have struck a bargain with Milan Brajdich for a small cart and one horse.”
“What kind of bargain?”
“His son, Polde, is going to take you to your destination and return.”
“What did you have to pay him for that?” Elise asked.
“My father’s watch.”
“No. I will not have you do that. Offer him my pearls. I fear they will only be stolen from me if I take them … and I could not imagine leaving them behind.”
Zilka wanted to shut out their conversation, but couldn’t. Mama was leaving and taking Mayla with her. It was all a bad dream.
“Do you like your clothes? You look like a gadze’ without even trying. I’m glad you still braid your hair down your back.”
“Mama wanted me to let it flow free. I’m too old for my mother to tell me how to wear my hair.” Mayla twirled Zilka’s long hair on her finger.
“I miss Vanya. Once you leave I’ll be all alone. I hate mama for doing this.” Zilka buried her face into Mayla’s shoulder and cried.
“Don’t blame mama, schej. And you should stop crying. You are not a baby anymore. You must grow up fast. Petre’ won’t want a wife that cries for her sisters and mama.”
“I’m not crying for mama. I’ll miss her … but I won’t cry for her. She isn’t going to save us girls. She’s leaving because she’s too scared of dying with the Gypsies. She is Aryan and knows she’ll be safe with grandmother. She is taking you as an excuse.” Zilka sat back and looked at Mayla.
“I know. But you can’t blame her for being afraid. Everyone is frightened. I would rather be shot than to be hung by the neck.”
“Mayla, how can you talk of such a thing?” Zilka swallowed hard.
“It’s true. I’m afraid like mama … that’s the real reason I’m going with her.”
“I don’t hate you for it, Mayla. I could never hate you. I don’t hate mama either. I’m just angry she is leaving.”
“I know, schej. I know. Things are changing for our kumpania. Everyone is afraid. I heard the men talking they are moving the camp tomorrow.”
“Petre’ said our travel papers are in order only until the end of next month. They do not know what they will do then. There is more talk about Gypsies being sent to a place called Auschwitz, near Cracow. They are killing Jews by the thousands.”
“You should not be talking of such things. You are much too young to be talking of death camps.” Mayla pulled Zilka against her.
“I am a woman now. I’m fourteen and old enough to marry. I’m also old enough to talk about the fate of my people.”
“Yes, schej, that you are. When I leave with mama you will be free to marry Petre’ and set up your own vardo.”
“I will not leave papa. We will wait.”
“So you have talked about marriage with Petre’?”
Zilka giggled into her palm. “You tricked me, sister. Yes, we love each other. We have loved each other since we were born. He has been my best friend my whole life. Papa has other ideas but we won’t let him choose anyone else for me to marry or I will not marry.”
“I see. I would like to be at your abiav.”
Zilka laughed as color rushed up her cheeks. “If we are on the road there won’t be much of a wedding feast for you to attend. I want you and Vanya to wish me baxt on my special day. I’m not sure that will ever happen now.”
“Girls, it’s time to hug goodbye,” Elise called out to them. “Zilka, I know you are angry with me. I wish it were not so. One day you might find it in your heart to forgive me for this decision. Until then know I love you.”
“Shero Rom … Shero Rom….” a rider shouted, racing through the camp on horseback.
“What is happening?” Bajram hurried past the women.
Elise chased after him, running to keep up. Zilka grabbed Mayla’s hand and followed. This was serious. No one raced through a Gypsy camp with such disregard unless it was bad news.
“Shero Rom, I must have audience,” Pirvan Regalie shouted outside the Shero Rom’s vardo.
Pirvan clutched his left arm and blood dripped from his fingertips. Zilka gasped. Several men reached up and helped him to the ground. His eyes were swollen and he had several cuts on his face.
“What happened to you? Where is your family?”
“The Germans attacked our wagons. I was down by the riverbank because my stomach was turning upside down. I heard the women screaming and children crying. Then there was gunfire. I ran to them and fire struck my arm. I fell down the hill.”
“Your family?”
“They thought I was dead. I wanted to go to them but I caught my father’s attention and he shook his head. He wanted me to warn you … and not get caught. I’m sure of it.”
“Did they kill them?
“No, that is what I expected. But instead they told my father they were being taken to a Gypsy family camp in Auschwitz.”
“A work camp or a death camp?” the Shero Rom asked.
"A soldier said nothing would happen to them … for now. But the SS man in charge said they were like the Jews. They were nonpersons, of foreign blood, and labor-shy. And soon Germany would be free of such asocials. I should have gone with them.”
“No, you did the right thing, Pirvan. You will join my family,” Ljatif offered. “We will have a meeting of the council and make a plan. No more of our people must be taken to Auschwitz. Now everyone go back to your vardos and get ready. We set out on the lungo drom and pray we will be protected. We will not sit and wait like sheep ready for the slaughter.”
“Where will we go? There Germans are everywhere,” Bajram asked.
“Why are those gadze’ from your vardo still with us?”
“They will tell the Germans where our camp is,” a woman shouted out.
Elise stepped forward. “You all know me. I am wife to Gypsy Bajram Sucuri. You all have been my friends. I’ve tended many of you when you or your family had been ill. I only wish to protect my daughter … and you turn your back on me. I would not do so to you.”
“Go, take your jenische daughter with you.”
Zilka ran up to her mother. “I am also her daughter. I am Gypsy,” she raised her chin with pride. “I would ask you wish them well on their journey … in the Gypsy spirit. We are a loving people. Don’t let the Nazis make us turn on each other. Don’t let them put hatred in our hearts where there has always been love and happiness.”
“This child has more wisdom than all of us,” Ljatif said. “We are wrong in showing hatred to one of our own. Elise Backer Sucuri has been a valued member of our kumpania. She saved my daughter, Hasani, when childbirth nearly took her life. It does not feel right to turn my back on this woman.”
“Thank you, Shero Rom,” Elise said. Mayla and I are now leaving. I am not divorcing my Gypsy husband, Bajram. We will return … after the war.”
“Why leave? Why desert your husband? You are married to a Gypsy. Your children are Gypsy. Then die like a Gypsy with your people. You leave and you denounce this kumpania.” Dushano Dimitraskcu moved to the front of the group.
“It is so. Bajram and Zilka Sucuri will be welcome to stay. We will never welcome you back, Elise.”
“You are a bitter woman, Jean Stenegry. You wanted my Bjram since you were a little girl. He chose me and you have been itching to get even with me ever since. Now is your big chance. I see you have wasted no time in pushing me out of the kumpania.”
“You don’t need pushing … you are running away of your own making. You have always thought you were better than us pure Gypsy women. You pretend to be Gypsy, but always your white gadze’ skin reminds us of who you truly are.”
“That is true, look at you and Mayla. No one would know either of you are Gypsy. Go, run to safety. We no longer wish to have you among us.”
Zilka glanced around at those she called her people. They were turning bitter and angry. She swallowed hard. Mama and Mayla did look gadze’ … had she not said it herself? They had turned away from the kumpania … and papa and her. Zilka ran from the crowd, pushing her way through them, tears blinding her as she fled.
“Schez, please wait for me,” Mayla shouted.
Zilka ran into the vardo and slammed the door. She tossed herself onto her sleeping mat and cried. Why couldn’t mama and Mayla have left before publicly embarrassing her and papa?
“I’m so sorry, Zilka. I’ll stay if you truly want me to.” Mayla pulled her onto her lap and rocked her like a child.
“I want you to stay but … you must go now. No one will ever treat you the same again. Mama humiliated papa with her accusations. When he walked away … he divorced her … didn’t he?”
“I think he did. I don’t blame him, Zilka.”
“Mayla, we are leaving now.”
“Will you tell mama goodbye?” Mayla asked.
Zilka clung to her sister. She kissed her right cheek, then her left. “I love you. I will try to write … and one day we will be together. I know it.”
“I know it, too. Bye little Gypsy. I love you.”
Zilka hugged her sister, knowing it would be a long time before they would see each other again.
“Mayla, we cannot wait a moment longer. Zilka, would you give me a hug goodbye?”
... Continued...
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