Everlasting - Iris Johansen [43]
“Why did you come to Tamrovia?” she asked softly. “Not this time. When you were a boy, I mean.” The fire had burned low, but neither of them had wanted to stir to add another log and stoke the flames.
“I needed to get away. My grandfather had died the winter before and I had to come to terms with losing him.” His lips twisted. “And I was a half-breed in a time when many southwesterners thought Indians were drunks or bums. I'd had a few experiences that year that had left me raw, and I needed to find myself. Or at least my sense of self-worth and a goal in life. I had backpacked around Italy and Switzerland for a few weeks and then crossed into Tamrovia.” His gaze was fixed on the fire, but he wasn't really seeing it. “I ran into Paulo in a village in the hills and we struck up a friendship. He took me back to the encampment with him.”
“And you traveled the rest of the summer with them,” she finished for him. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yes.” His lips moved against her ear in a gossamer-light caress. “In some ways it was like being with my grandfather again. He hated to stay in one place, too, and was never happier than when he was wandering in the hills.”
“Was he a hunter like you and Paulo?”
“No, he believed in being one with nature. He was a very gentle man.” There was a long silence. “I loved him very much. I couldn't be like him. There was too much violence, too much hunger in me. Yet, when I was a child, I wanted to grow up to have that gentleness and serenity more than anything in the world. He was a very happy man.”
And Zack hadn't been happy. The revelation was sudden, poignant for her. Understated though Zack's admission had been, it was still painfully clear what mental and emotional hardships the little boy from two worlds had undergone. Her hand unconsciously tightened on his in silent support. “I wish I could have met your grandfather.”
“He would have liked you.” His eyes were suddenly twinkling. “He would have approved of your shooting pictures instead of game, even if Paulo doesn't.”
“I wish I had my camera now,” she said wistfully. “I could take pictures of Marna and her people here at the encampment. It would mean a good deal to her once she's left Tamrovia.”
“Yes, I imagine it would. I hadn't thought of that.” His arm slid around her waist. “And to you too. Did you spend much of your childhood here at the Gypsy camp?”
She shook her head. “I would have loved to have spent all of it here, but my parents and Stefan disapproved. Marna and I could escape for a full day only now and then. I loved every minute of those days. I can understand how Marna would be homesick for the life here. Do you think it would be possible for us to spend just one more day? Are they searching for us in this area?”
“I don't think so,” he said slowly. “It's a little puzzling. I've been in touch with my men in Belajo and they haven't seen even a hint of pursuit. It's as if the escape had never happened. For that matter, they can't seem to get any information at all out of their informants in the palace. There appears to be a complete communication blackout.”
“That's very strange, isn't it?”
He nodded. “I've told them to find out more and let me know as soon as possible.”
“But you think it's safe to spend one more day here?”
“I suppose it wouldn't hurt to delay our departure until tomorrow evening instead of leaving at dawn.”
“Wonderful! That will make Marna much happier.”
“It will make me much happier too. I intend to be very occupied at dawn.” His hand moved up to cup her breast, and she felt a ripple of sensation that shredded the fabric of tranquility she had been feeling. “In fact, I expect to be very