Iris Johansen - Everlasting

She was gazing bewilderedly at him. “Zack, you don't understand. It was you-”

He made a movement with the edge of his hand like the slicing of a knife. It was a curiously Indian gesture, the first she had seen him make. “It's decided. The discussion is over.” He turned and strode swiftly away, leaving her to stare after him with a dazed look on her face.

She'd had no idea her words would touch off such an explosion. It appeared that Zack was aware that the ceremony tonight constituted a commitment and wasn't at all averse to it. She felt a sudden surge of happiness so intense she was a little dizzy. He must have some feeling for her, other than desire, if that volatile break in Zack's usually tranquil demeanor was anything to go by.

She jumped to her feet and gathered up both Zack's jacket and her own. She stood a moment and looked out over the hills, breathing in the aromatic scent of pines and earth and the myriad subtle fragrances that composed this autumn world. There was just the faintest tinge of scarlet left in the heavens. Soon it, too, would be replaced by the deep cerulean blue of the morning. She had a fleeting memory of Zack silhouetted against that sky and felt again a great, buoyant joy. Together.

She turned and walked swiftly down the hill toward the Gypsy encampment. She had always loved to visit Marna's people, from the time she was a tiny child. It was like taking a step back in time, with its brightly painted wagons and well-groomed horses. The tribe had adamantly refused to embrace the conveniences of motor vehicles and continued to travel the countryside as their ancestors had done for centuries. It was very soothing to leave the tensions of the modern world for a place where tradition and simple affection were more important than position and wealth.

People were awakening, preparing for the new day when Kira walked into the camp. Marna was standing by the wagon talking to Paulo and broke off in mid-sentence as Kira came toward her. Paulo gave Kira a puckish grin and a casual wave before he turned and strolled away.

Marna's eyes searched Kira's face and then dropped to Zack's coat draped across her arm. “It is done then,” she said quietly.

Kira nodded and unconsciously braced herself for an explosive reaction.

“It was with your will?”

Kira nodded again and met Marna's gaze steadily. “Yes, I couldn't have been more willing. I'm sorry you're disappointed, but…”

Marna's impatient gesture cut her short. “ Jdo not matter. The mondava exists. That is all that is important.” She smiled in a slightly rueful way. “Besides, perhaps it was not the ceremony itself but my wish to exert my will over Zack's that made me so determined. I should have known he would not submit meekly to my controlling the situation. Diseks make their own rules and customs.” Her smile widened and there was the faintest glint of respect in her eyes. “But I didn't expect him to creep into the wagon at night and steal you away from beside me. That took a Gypsy boldness. I think we trained him too well when he was with us.”

“He didn't steal me. He called,” Kira said gently. “I believe that for the rest of my life I'll come whenever he calls me.”

“It's so strong already? Ah, well, it is only what I expected. Come, we'll have breakfast and then we will begin to prepare you for tonight. Perhaps it's best Zack decided not to tolerate my interference. Now you will be able to concentrate on the soul tonight, instead of the body.”

Would she, indeed? Kira somehow doubted it. Her body was still exquisitely sensitive and became even more so when she remembered Zack's hands moving… She drew a deep, shaky breath. “I really wouldn't count on my being preoccupied with the soul tonight, Marna.”

Marna's dark eyes were suddenly twinkling. “Maybe I should have said you'd be able to concentrate on the soul as well as the body. As for me, today I'm going to enjoy myself. I will talk to the women, and laugh, and be a Gypsy again.”

Marna looked years younger and as free and irresponsible as Paulo. She had exchanged the neat black dress she always wore outside the encampment for bright clothing. The full blue skirt and yellow cotton blouse she wore now made her appear almost another person. Kira had never really thought about Marna's age. She had always been merely Marna, as ageless and steady as these hills around them. Now Kira suddenly realized that Marna was only in her early forties.

“You really miss this life, don't you, Marna? You gave up so much when you left your people to take care of me.”

“I gained so much,” Marna corrected. “But it is good that they are still here for me now.”

But they wouldn't be here for her for very long. She would have to leave her people and her country and go into exile again. There was no question that it was entirely Kira's fault. Marna had been drawn into her problems through duty and devotion and now was going to have to suffer for it. “Oh, Marna, I wish-”

Marna's big hand caressed her cheek in a gesture that was half-pat, half gentle slap. “How many times have I told you that it is useless to wish for things. You either do something to get what you want or accept what you have. Stop worrying about me. I will enjoy what I have while I have it. It is the Gypsy way. My way.”

Kira's expression betrayed how troubled she felt. “That's not good enough. Not for you, Marna.”

Marna shrugged. “It will have to be.”

“We'll have to see about that.” She suddenly smiled as she linked her arm with Marna's. “But right now, we'll follow your Gypsy philosophy and enjoy ourselves. It's been a long time since I've been free to do that, and there's no one who knows how to do it better than the Romany.”

KIRA SHOOK HER head as she looked in the mirror Marna was holding before her. “Are you sure this isn't going a bit too far? I saw an old Maria Montez movie on the late-late show on television when I was in college, and even she didn't look this theatrical. Seven petticoats, Marna?”

“Seven is lucky.” A gentle smile softened Marna's face. “You look beautiful.”

Kira turned around, trying to see a back view of the outfit. There was no denying it was outrageously flattering. The full circle skirt, a pale-pink and fawn-beige print, swung gaily as she turned. It was cinched by a wide, dark brown suede belt which laced and tied in the front, reminiscent of those worn by seventeenth-century peasant women. The lace-trimmed white blouse was completely off the shoulder and made her breasts appear even more ripe and womanly. Luckily, her own calf-high brown suede boots looked good with the ensemble.

She turned back to Marna with an impish grin. “I've changed my mind. It's much more like the outfit Esmerelda wore in The Hunchback of Notre Dame . Are you sure you haven't hidden Quasimodo in one of the wagons?”

“Zack would not be pleased with that particular comparison,” Marna said dryly. “And I wouldn't bring it up if I were you. Paulo says Zack's humor hasn't been of the best today.” Her gaze narrowed curiously on Kira's face. “What did you say to him this morning?”

“Just a little misunderstanding. I'll straighten it out when I see him.”

“That would be wise. I don't think many people would be comfortable having Zack ‘misunderstand’ them. You will be in a very vulnerable position after tonight.”

She was in a very vulnerable position right now, Kira realized. What Zack thought and did and felt had already assumed monumental proportions in her life. There were moments when it frightened her. The only time she'd ever known that Zack felt a similar dependence was when he was making love to her this morning, and a sexual dependence would never be enough for her now. She mustn't borrow trouble, though, she reminded herself, because this was only the beginning. There would be time to encourage whatever he felt for her to blossom and grow into something close to the love she was feeling for him. Love. It still felt strange and new and a little intimidating. “Hadn't you better tell me what to expect during the ceremony? Will there be violins and dancing and singing?”