The Jewish Gypsy

By Ruti Yudovich

Dreadful circumstances of World War II change the fate of Nadia Kovach, a Gypsy teenager who is forced to form complex relationships. From carefree and simple life in Czechoslovakia, through extreme conflicts, Nadia climbs up the ladder of an intelligence agency while struggling to fit in. She hides her identity while continuing to search for her lost love. The story spans from 1942-1956 and takes place in Czechoslovakia, Germany, France, and Israel. It is a story of passionate love, revenge, uncompromised loyalty and the everlasting spirit of Man.
"This historical novel took me on a journey the like of which I never experienced. Reading it, I participated in passion, love, jealousy, trust and distrust spanning two continents and two wars. It will leave you breathless." B.G
“This book grasps the attention without letting go. I found myself wishing it will never end.” S.W
“...we know almost nothing about the Romani people during that era. This multi-genre book brings a different perspective of this era.” B.B

"Wonderfully written by a most talented author." C.W
RUTI YUDOVICH is the author of eight nonfiction books and the novel I Hate to Say Goodbye.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruti Yudovich
• Release date: Mar 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370218530

Ruti Yudovich

Ms. Yudovich is a prolific writer. She has published 14 non-fiction books sharing her successful and unique methods in her series: Speak Hebrew For Real; Learn How to Read Hebrew For Real, Be Your Own Tutor; Hebrew Binyanim Made Easy The Missing Link, Hebrew When to Say What, How to Avoid Common Mistakes, Hebrew Numbers, times & Essential Basic Phrases. Ruti Yudovich has been in the education field for over 35 years in Israel and the USA. She graduated from the University of Ben-Gurion in Beer Sheva and had a very rich career teaching and tutoring Hebrew to people of all ages. She taught classes in Ulpan Beit Brodetzky in Rammat Aviv; Modern and Biblical Hebrew at the University of Judaism in Los Angeles. Her Hebrew books are sold all over the world. In addition to her Hebrew series she had published a fascinating memoir: I Hate to Say Goodbye that was later translated into Hebrew. Her second novel, The Jewish Gypsy, is a historical fiction which is a gripping story of a gypsy teenager whose life had turned around when caught in a concentration camp during WWII. This story takes place in Czechoslovakia, France, Israel and Germany. Ms. Yudovich continues to write more Hebrew books and is currently working on her new Science Fiction book: The Black Hills.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

On an overcast afternoon, in her sleek Peugeot 403, Madame Signoret headed for the German border. Eleven years she waited for this day.

A swarthy man sat next to her. Leaning back on the leather seat he stared blankly at the road. He opened a new pack of Gitan, pulled out a cigarette, lit and held it between his index finger and thumb.

The rain splattered on the windshield and the rhythmic sound of the wipers seemed to soothe the edges of their frayed nerves.

Clean streets and manicured lawns told them they had arrived in Germany. It was October 6, 1956—a payback day—the execution of their vow.

They climbed up a wide marble stairs, intentionally arriving late for Sunday Mass. Heads turned and whispers filled the sanctuary as the sultry beauty with long black hair, wrapped in sable fur from neck-to-toe, made a glamorous entrance on the arm of the man of same height. He was wearing a tight-fitting black leather jacket, black turtle neck sweater and black cotton pants. Ignoring the gaping mouths and curious whispers, the couple walked to a front-row pew and stood with utter arrogance as the parishioners moved down the long bench.

Madame Signoret sat down slowly and held tight to her chest a designer purse. Inside it, like a venomous snake, laid her revolver.

Being in the midst of delivering a fervent sermon, the Roman Catholic priest suddenly choked on his voice. He coughed and sputtered, unable to take his round-blue eyes off the foreign couple, their gazes casting him down to hell’s fire. His plump cheeks shone of sweat, and the hand holding the written sermon, trembled. Madame Signoret examined the priest with intensity. Through the hubbub in the sanctuary she whispered, Are you’re sure it’s him?

Yes.

"But I don’t see the scar. Are you sure?"

He recognized you. Didn’t you see?

Maybe he never saw such beauty in his whole life, she chuckled nervously.

Your hatred blinds you. Use your senses.

When the priest removed the strands of hair from his forehead to wipe the sweat from his brow, she knew that he was the one! Blood began to boil angrily in her stomach and then like a geyser it shot up to her throat. Get up! Do it now! the voice in her head commanded. Do it now! it kept urging her. Madame Signoret could not wait to rush to the altar, slash the priest’s throat, rake his skin with her pointed fingernails and then shoot him several times… She stretched her arms on the wooden pew, attempting to stand up but a strong hand pulled her forcefully back to her seat.

Don’t be stupid! he whispered as his fiery eyes pierced her soul. Wait for my signal!

CHAPTER 1

Lala and Nadia

On November 1940, the sky hosted a jumble of white clouds that played hide-and-seek with the sun. In an empty field in the outskirts of the city of Terezin, Czechoslovakia stood three vardos (gypsy wooden wagons with high arching roofs and each with a single door at the back). The vardos formed a comfortable semi-circle that sheltered a campfire. Strong smell of garlic wafted through the air. A vegetable stew made of mushrooms, spinach like leaves and other greens found in the nearby forest, was cooking in a large iron pot on a fire in the middle of the circle. The stew had been simmering all afternoon and would be ready by sunset for twenty-five hungry mouths—their last meal being breakfast. Three horses and one bull were grazing peacefully nearby, and mongrel dogs trotted joyfully from one wagon to the next, sniffing their future food… so they thought.

An old woman with a colorful diklo (headscarf) wound tight around her head sat bent on a wooden stool. A lock of long black hair streaked with white escaped the scarf and spilled down her back. She was washing clothes in a metal pail, using a big lump of yellow soap while humming a Gypsy melody. She then leaned against the green vardo and with her veined hand wiped the sweat off her forehead. She closed her eyes and savored the caressing sunrays. But a moment later someone stood between her and the soothing sun and interrupted that repose. With her eyes still closed she asked, Yes Nadia? What do you want to know now?

How did you know it was me? The caramel eyes with the mischievous glint brought a smile to the furrowed face. "Bahbu, grandma, why do you wash the underwear in a separate pail?" asked her fifteen-year-old granddaughter.

Grandma Anu lifted her head up to Nadia. Her smile revealed yellow teeth and wise loving gaze. Oy, miri chavi, my girl, she said in Romani as she resumed wringing the red cloth and placing it in a metal pail. This is our custom that passed from generation to generation. By now you should know that the lower part of the body is impure because unwanted things come out of it; that is why you do not mix them with other clothes. And don’t forget that what’s between your legs— she pointed her index finger at Nadia while sending her a sidelong gaze. —is sacred. You only give it to the man that will be your husband."

Nadia gaped at her grandmother, her long eyelashes fluttered and her face crinkled into a mischievous smile, showing two deep and round dimples. Do you know who is going to be my husband? Nadia gathered her coffee-color hair into a bundle; pulled it all to the side of her neck and started to braid it while waiting for her Grandma’s answer.

You know I do, and so do you! Grandma Anu replied and then her eyes rested on Nadia’s body. "Why so many layers of skirts, miri papusza, my doll?" The chiffon skirt in patterns of reds, oranges and midnight blue, sat above two other skirts and her small waist was wrapped in a similar matching scarf.

Nadia shrieked with laughter. So that when I dance the flamenco, no one can see my sacred underwear. She whirled, raised her hands in the air, lifted her top skirt up, flung it to the sides, stomped her feet on the grass, while humming a Gypsy song. Grandma Anu laughed hoarsely and clapped her hands to the rhythm of the dance while other young women of the clan joined in.

When the dancing ceased, Nadia grabbed the pail with the wrung-out clothes and briskly carried it to the wire stretched from the green wagon to the nearby tree. With all clothes hung to dry and when the sun was just moving to the south, Nadia hastened to delight herself with Grandma Anu’s stories and pearls of wisdom.

Grandma Anu was humming a gypsy melody while she was sitting outside on a small bench and stirred the steaming soup. Nadia dashed to her and quickly sat crossed-legged on the thick carpet and waited for Grandma Anu to tell the story Nadia so loved to hear. Grandma Anu lifted her head up and started with the usual introduction: I will tell you the story that my mother told me and her mother told her, and I hope that one day you will tell it to your children. She sighed, as she looked far away into the horizon with longing gaze.

Many many many years ago, king Bahrām Gor of Persia found out that the poor could not afford to enjoy music, so he asked the king of India to send him ten thousand men and women that were expert in playing the lute. When they arrived, King Bahrām gave each one an ox, a donkey and a load of wheat so that they could live on agriculture and play music free of charge to the poor. But the musicians ate the ox and the wheat and came back a year later with their cheeks hollowed with hunger. The king was angry about their having wasted his gifts and ordered them to pack up their bags on and go wandering around the world. And so, since then we have been wondering from one place to the next with no permanent home.

Where is India, Grandma?

Horrifying screams made Nadia and Grandma Anu jump to their feet. Nadia ran up the hill while Bahbu Anu scuttled behind her. Lala raced frantically down the green hill: her face battered and bleeding and her torn skirt stained with blood. She cried out with a huff. The Germans are here! The Gestapo—in the city—and they are turning the Small Fortress into a prison. They are arresting people and—

But what happened to you? Why blood on your skirt? Nadia asked with shaken voice as she and Grandma Anu led Lala to the green vardo.

He grabbed me. I fought. I scratched his face with my nails.

Who grabbed you? Nadia asked as she helped Lala sit down on the vardo’s stair.

The German soldier, the Nazi; the man with the black uniform, Lala answered as she sat down groaning with pain. Her black big eyes moved restlessly with terror, her bloodied lips quivered. "I walked on the street, looking for food and then suddenly somebody grabbed me from behind. When I managed to release myself from his grip, I saw a swinish smile and lusty leers. He said something like ‘tzigani’. I think that meant ‘Gypsy’ in their harsh language. Then he said, ‘Kum mit meer’ (come with me), and motioned me to come with him. I started to run away but he came after me. I kept running and he shouted behind me. ‘Halt!’ (Stop!) I ran even faster until I arrived at the edge of the forest. I could hardly breathe. He grabbed me, tore my skirt. He threw me to the ground. Laid on me but I kept screaming and scratching. Then, I felt the rock beneath my head. I dug into his head with my nails, grabbed the rock with my other hand and hit his head with it. Blood streamed down his nose as his watery eyes looked at me in shock. I kept hitting and hitting this Gadje (non-Gypsy), until he let go of me. I ran as fast as I could. Lala heaved a deep breath. Nadia and Grandma Anu remained silent. Their tight lips and quizzical stares told Lala they demanded to hear the rest of the story. Her eyes danced to the left and to the right and then to her bare feet until she faintly muttered, I think he is dead."

"You think he is dead? You did not check if he was breathing or not? What if they are searching for you now? And why the hell did you go to town by yourself?" Nadia raised her voice, scared out of her wits with the disturbing stories she had been hearing of late—a war was going on not far from them, and bad Germans, Nazis, were going to kill Jews and Gypsies.

Nadia had heard the term ‘Jew’ for the first time just a few months earlier. Grandma Anu told her that Jews were dark skinned with long noses, but good, smart and harmless people. When Nadia wanted to understand why the Nazis wanted to kill Jews and Gypsies, Bahbu Anu told her that certain Germans could not stand people who are free thinkers and independent. She explained that in the world there were two kinds of people: the good and the bad, and that the bad are so crazy that they are only happy when they destroy, and that the good people need to stay strong and united to fight those evil people. That’s why your brothers, Shandor and Hanzi, were drafted to the Red Army to fight the Germans—the Nazis!" Nadia heard the new word ‘Nazi’ for the second time. She perceived that ominous events were about to happen. And indeed that year, Germany assigned the Gestapo (German secret police), to redesign Terezin as a ghetto and a concentration camp.

Lala shrugged her shoulders. I really wanted to steal that beautiful skirt they had in the window but there were too many people—I only managed to steal two apples…

Bahbu Anu gave Lala a scolding look. "You know you should never go alone to places where there’s Gadje. You know that!"

That same afternoon, a caravan of three vardos: green, brown and rust left the area carrying three families: The Kovachs, The Holubs (Lala’s family) and The Cervenaks. Those three families belonged to the Gypsy nation of The Ursari Natsia (the perfect entertainers). Their camp consisted of dancers and musicians. Since long trips were no longer safe in times of war they did not go too far from where they camped before, but deeper into the forest seemed safer and hopefully far enough away from the bashed-in body of Lala’s attacker.

When night fell, they parked their movable homes and went to sleep. At dawn, the men of the clan scouted the area and decided that it was a good place to pitch their home, away from the vigilance of the German’s collaborators—the Gypsy haters among the Czechoslovakians. There was even a small pond with a river flowing into it—a great source of fresh water for the twenty-five Gypsies to bathe in, wash their clothes and water their horses and oxen.

Nadia Kovach opened the green caravan’s door, jumped off the steps and ran to the Cervenak’s rust wagon.

Raul! she yelled out. Raul! Come out!

Nadia, come back now! she heard Grandma Anu calling behind her. You first need to help us unload.

Nadia’s sparkling eyes shone, beads of sweat sparkled on her high forehead. I haven’t seen Raul since we left, she shouted back. I want to see him first and then I’ll help you.

Raul, a seventeen-year-old, was standing at the door in his black shirt and black pants. "Nadia! Miri pakvora, my beautiful!" He called out. Raul’s narrow upper lip and thick bottom lip widened to reveal two stretched-out dimples, neighboring a Greek nose. His fiery eyes told her she had just brought the sun to his world. In the last year he had grown so tall that now he towered over her; the round cheeks of the boy she had known her whole life gave way to high cheekbones.

When Nadia was a baby, so Grandma Anu told her, she was quiet and calm but never smiled until that day when the two-year old Raul toddled towards her, squeezed her tiny hand and tickled her nose with his. Nadia smiled for the first time. When she would not stop crying little Raul pacified her by stroking her hand and smiling at her. When Nadia learned to walk, she followed and joined Raul in anything he did. They were inseparable until that morning when Raul did not show up on the steps of his vardo. When he came back home at dusk, a worried Nadia asked him what happened. He brushed her off with the excuse that he went with the boys to do ‘boy’s things’ and that Nadia, being a girl, could not join them. But why can’t I go with you like I always did? However, Raul reiterated that she could not play with him anymore because he was a mature ten-year old boy that does manly things and that she, Nadia, instead of hanging around boys, should learn how to be a real girl and become competent in all the tasks women are expected to know. Nadia heard those cold words and burst out crying. She ran home and fell on the vardo’s carpet.

All her attempts to bring back the Raul she knew bore no fruit. She did not know that Raul was being jeered at and mocked by his friends. Sisi they called him a boy that hunts girls instead of ducks.

Raul was tormented. He was torn between his love for Nadia that like defiant ivy grew deep in his heart and spread in his veins; and between losing the most important thing in his life—his pride and self-respect. He watched as Nadia suffered; felt her pain and sorrow but he could not continue to associate with her. For five lonely years, he hung around with the boys and went hunting, helped his Dad and spent hours pouring his agony onto the strings of his violin. During those years, Nadia found solace in playing with girls and spending many hours of the day with Grandma Anu, learning how to cook, sew, clean the dishes, wash the wooden floor of their wagon, make clothes and of course—dance and sing.

When Nadia turned fifteen Raul showed gentle attempts to get close to her. At dinnertime, when the whole clan sat together, he no longer huddled with the boys that sat in the outer circle but ensured he found the right angle from which he could see Nadia. When their eyes met, Nadia saw him blush for the first time. There were times when his penetrating looks moved from her lips to her neck and then rested on her breasts as if he was hypnotized.

For five years, Nadia was like a closed flower. When she turned fifteen, she slowly opened her petals for Raul’s sunrays that yet again embraced her soul and illuminated her world. They spent more time together. Talked, chatted but were no longer free as they used to be when they were kids. Something had changed. There was tension between them that made her body uncomfortable—as if being out of place to a point that she did not know where to place her hands, or how to tilt her neck. When their twinkling eyes rested on each other that tension in the form of butterflies in their stomach would take over and interfere with their carefree connection.

When Nadia described to Bahbu Anu the way Raul eyed her, her grandmother smiled and her hazel eyes gazed at the horizon as if longing for something long lost. It’s called passion. Nadia’s squinted brows called for explanation. Well—it is this emotion—strong emotion.

You mean ‘love’? But Raul and I loved each other since I remember myself.

No no no. Not love; passion. Bahbu Anu paused and rubbed her cheek. How would she explain to her granddaughter the difference between love and passion? It’s something very strong, she uttered with strain in her voice, that sometimes makes you think and do things that you cannot control.

So passion is bad? When Raul checks me out like this—the whole area of my stomach is burning.

Yes, that’s the sensation of passion. You’ll have to decide if it is good or bad. Nadia knew that anything relating to Raul could never be bad—Raul was her sun, moon, stars and fresh air without which she could not exist.

CHAPTER 2

Raul, Lala and Nadia

Raul was helping his family settle in their new home when his eyes caught Nadia dashing in his direction. He let go of the container’s lid and walked towards Nadia. Raul, she blushed, feeling those butterflies in her stomach as Raul gazed at her in a special way. Let’s go explore our new home as we always do when we arrive at a new place.

Look who’s so excited! A deep voice came from the brown wagon—a voice that Nadia dreaded since the Holub family joined their clan. Raul, you promised to teach me how to play the violin as soon as we got into our new camp. Remember? Lala glided towards Raul like a thirsty gazelle. She smiled at him affectionately, grabbed his hand and pushed him away from Nadia. How dare she? Nadia thought. How dare she intervene between us? She’s talking with such confidence as if nothing happened to her yesterday. How could she not have any qualms that the whole clan had to pack everything in a hurry to find a safer place because of her?

Raul yanked his arm from Lala’s grip and sent Nadia apologetic looks. "Pakvora, beautiful," he said warmly, Bahbu needs your help. Go help her and then we’ll go explore the area. He climbed up the three wagon’s steps, disappeared for a moment into the vargo, and showed up again holding a violin. Lala smiled wryly at Nadia.

Whenever Lala was around, Nadia sensed that she was in danger as she was unable to predict Lala’s moves. There were times when Lala was as sweet as honey, like the time when one of the boys of the clan brawled with Nadia over a piece of chocolate; he threw her to the ground, but Nadia would not let go of the chocolate bar. His hand had found a fist-sized rock and as he raised his arm to smash it down on Nadia’s head, Lala snatched the rock and kicked him furiously, banging on his back with her balled up fists, screaming: I will kill you if you ever touch my friend! And if not for Nadia’s pleading her to stop, Lala would have bashed his head in with the rock. The poor boy sobbed and begged off like a wounded hyena. Nadia knew that Lala, like a loyal older sister, would never let anybody hurt her. But whenever Raul was around, Lala turned into a wild tigress, protecting her cub. Any woman who dared get close to him had to confront Lala’s wrath. Whenever Raul showed affection to any female in the clan, Lala was standing behind him, ready to pounce.

Although she yearned to spend time with Raul in their new location, she had to help Bahbu Anu first. They unload pots, pans, carpets, pails and chopped wood. Nadia worked hastily, itching to be with Raul. As soon as Bahbu Anu nodded, Nadia ran down the mound. A bright yellow flower tucked in her long raven hair, saccharine smile and starry eyes, Lala was sprawling by Raul’s feet. Suddenly she jumped on her feet and shouted. Go away! She straightened her red skirt and stalked towards Nadia. I’m telling you to go away, slut! Lala was the most beautiful woman of the clan. She was two years older than Nadia, taller and remarkably beautiful—dark brown skin, and sultry sensual lips and… She was a troublemaker and Nadia’s competitor. At seventeen, she made men salivate over her. She knew she was gorgeous and recognized the power it gave her over men. When she loved someone her love had no boundaries. When she hated, she hated with vengeance.

Lala reached for Nadia’s throat. "Atch! Stop! Atch! Atch! You girls stop this stupid thing! Lala! Come back here!" Raul shouted. Lala let go of Nadia’s throat, turned around and walked like a lamb to where Raul was sitting but Nadia huffed, puffed, and didn’t budge. She flushed and her gaze shot arrows at Lala’s.

Oh, don’t be silly. Come sit with us, Raul said tenderly.

Nadia dragged herself quietly and sat beside Raul. She spread her skirts wide, plucked a blade of grass and chewed it while gazing up at the sun, trying to hide a tear that managed to sneak out.

Raul played a few Gypsy tunes while the girls sat in utter silence. You can’t sit here and sulk. You either sing with me, or you dance. Otherwise, you both return to camp and leave me here by myself! Nadia jumped to her feet and Lala followed suit. Raul smiled, picked up the violin, rested his chin on it and motioned the girls to start. They whirled around each other, lifted their skirts up and down, eyed each other with malice and swayed sensuously. Their motions were fully in tune with the music and their faces bore the ache and longing for love and passion. Nadia burst out singing the songs she had heard her whole life. When the music ceased, heavily panting, Nadia and Lala burst into laughter and then fell on each other’s shoulders. Raul’s face shone. "Kushti! Kushti! Good! Good! That’s how I like to see you both."

Raul loved Lala’s primeval desires and instincts. He found they shared similar qualities: passion and temper. And… he could not have enough of her beauty and sensuality. But Nadia … Oh, Nadia was his soul mate. She was his home—his stronghold. The world seemed peaceful and beautiful when she was around. Nadia was like the blood flowing inside his body taking oxygen to every single cell.

At twilight, the clan sat around the campfire for their main meal of the day. By the side of the smoldering embers stood a coffee pot without a lid or a handle filled with snail soup. On the plates was grilled snail meat with potatoes. Dig in! announced the elder of the clan and all hands did just that. Food always tastes better from your hands! he said hoarsely. Then the violins, violas and drums filled the cool air with passionate music. The women jumped to their feet and began to dance the flamenco, snapping their fingers and stamping on the grass. When they were out of breath with the intense passion of the dance, it was time for the elders to recount the history of their ancestors who originated in India but lived many generations in Spain. Nadia watched her family and friends she grew up with, and did not like the image she saw flashing in her mind.

CHAPTER 3

The Cave

Unlike the Gypsies in other neighboring countries the clan had managed to escape the Gestapo’s bullets. Gypsies in other regions had not been so fortunate and many were shot on the streets like abandoned dogs. Here, in Bohemia, the Nazis were too busy to be bothered by the occasional stray Gypsy as they were building and preparing the entire city of Terezin to accommodate thousands of Jewish inmates coming from Germany, Denmark, Austria, Soviet Union and Czechoslovakia. Terezin was a walled city, built in the late 18 th century by the Habsburg Emperor Joseph II, who named the city after his mother, Empress Maria Theresa. The fortress consisted of a citadel, The Small Fortress to the east of the Oh r̂ e River; and a walled town, The Main Fortress to the west. Later, in the 19 th century, the fortress served as a prison. During World War I it held political prisoners. With the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1918, the town became part of newly formed state of Czechoslovakia. Since November 1940 the Gestapo took over and called it Theresienstadt (city of Terezin).

For food, the Gypsy clan hunted deer, pheasants, boars, and lived on the gifts Mother Earth graciously provided them. However, the clan also needed salt, coffee, flour, soaps and warm clothing for the winter.

Nadia’s father, a slim man with a bushy mustache announced: Tomorrow, all boys should go to the forest and hunt for some meat; and you, Nadia and Raul, it’s time for you to go to town and earn some money for us! Raul, you play the violin and Nadia, you sing; of course, if you see things that you can steal, do it! You shall go early tomorrow morning and make sure to be back with money and food!

What about me? Lala burst out.

Lala’s father looked at her as though he had gone into respiratory arrest. You’re staying here with us! You’ll help gather berries and mushrooms from the forest. We don’t need another ‘German incident’! You hear?

But I can dance the Flamenco and I’m a good thief… and I can draw a lot of attention!

We bet you do! he jeered at her. "You indeed know how to draw a lot of attention. But it is exactly what we don’t want. Do you understand? And didn’t you hear what I said? Are you deaf? He lifted his arm and pointed his finger at her. And if I hear again that you question any decision that we, men, already made, I’ll beat the hell out of you! And you know how painful that is!" Lala was the eldest of five siblings. Her mother, a plump woman and a Tarot reader, never dared protect her daughter against her bitter and short-tempered father. Whenever anything happened to one of her young siblings, Lala was to blame and physically punished. When Grandma Anu tried to intercede, Lala’s father threatened Plamen that he would hurt his mother if she ever again dares to tell him how to raise his children.

Lala blushed, her lips quivered. You better bring us food or else! she snapped.

You said you want to dance the Flamenco. Lala’s father challenged her in a smoker’s raspy voice. Go ahead! Dance for us! Dance now! Raul! Play! And he clapped his hands twice.

Lala grudgingly got up and stood bent for a few long moments. She stared fixedly at Raul’s violin, as if asking it to smooth the edges of her anger and humiliation. Her father’s forceful hand clapping was like a wooden stick hitting her spine. Lala straightened up her back and began to move slowly to the sound of music, no letting her grief spew out from her eyes. Men and women clapped their hands to the rhythm of the music as she moved her curved body like a cat in heat. Then she lifted her calico pleated skirts to purposely reveal her sculptured thighs when all of a sudden she stomped her feet on the ground as if wanting to crush to smithereens every incident of her life when she was unable to fight back. Her crinkling forehead and crouching brows made a mighty effort to push away the suppressed feelings of anger. She lifted her arms above her head and rolled her hands around to the rhythm of passion as if caressing someone with longing for love and affection. Men kept clapping and staring at her, singing louder and louder, yelling with vibrating voices and then one by one the women and girls of the clan joined in and danced the Flamenco until the wee hours of the night as if it was the last day of their lives.

For the past few months Raul and Nadia had endangered their lives by walking to Terezin to perform. Quite often Nazis joined the crowd that surrounded the Gypsy artists, listened to one or two songs and then moved on without incident.

At dawn, in early October of 1941, Raul and Nadia met by the Cerenvak vardos. Under his brown leather jacket, Raul wore a black vest and a sea-blue loose blouse with long sleeves, fuller at the bottom than the top and gathered into a cuff, decorated with frills on the front and on the cuffs; black cotton pants and boots. Nadia wore three layered skirts: the top was a bright calico material of yellow, red and orange, and under her black woolen coat she wore puffed-sleeved turquoise velvet blouse. The air in the forest was crispy chilled and the ground had the fresh smell of damp soil. They walked silently side-by-side and listened solemnly to the softly swaying trees, lulling the sleeping birds within. I know a short cut to get into town, said Raul.

They walked for about an hour until Nadia suddenly stopped. She pointed to a mound covered with branches. In addition to her talent for seeing through people and envisioning events before they happened, Nadia had the keen eyes of a hawk. Removing some branches, they found themselves at the mouth of a cave. Raul grabbed Nadia’s hand as they walked in slowly. The warmth of his hand filled Nadia with a sense of confidence and safety. The cave was extremely wide with high ceiling, forking off into two other rooms. Panting, they smiled at each other, their smiles filled with a promise for a future.

This is a perfect place to hide, Nadia whispered with excitement. I wonder who knows about this cave and why they put the branches here to hide the opening.

Anybody there? Hey! Anybody there? The place was as dead as a cemetery at night.

We must remember how to get back here. We found ourselves a goldmine—a perfect place to hide from the Nazis. One can live here for a long time if he knows how to get along in the forest like we do. Don’t mention this place to anyone, Nadia gasped. This will be our secret alone and you— Raul grabbed Nadia all of a sudden and held her tight. Nadia stopped breathing. She felt awkward, self-conscious, but excited at the same time; she was taught that a man would be permitted to touch her only after they were husband and wife. However, Raul’s warm body sent waves of tiny flames through her and then like a ball of fire sputtered down her spine. Nadia encircled Raul’s shoulders and moved to the rhythm of his body as if hypnotized. She closed her eyes to take in the precious sensation of skin touching skin. Then his soft lips on her heated cheek made every cell in her body quiver. Raul cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips. At that moment, the entire Gypsies’ custom and rules flew out of the cave giving way to the only immediate authority: love and passion. They kissed hungrily. The more she kissed him the deeper she realized how she craved for him and yearned to get as close to him as one can get. She then understood what passion was. She liked it. Passion was good. Passion was exhilarating. Passion made her more alive than she ever experienced before. Breathless, Raul pulled his mouth away, grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her back.

With eyes shining with warmth he whispered, "I want to marry you, Nadia. I want to be your rom, husband. I want to spend the rest of my life with you—and only with you. I will never be with anybody else. You are the light of my day—the light of my life. There will never be any other. Me tut kamav, I love you."

Nadia shed a