"They Call Us Gypsies" (closed)

Grace was surprised as Gregor stood and stepped in front of her, offering her a hand and a promise that he would show her that dreams never really died. Of course they did and she had proof of that. Her entire life was proof that dreams were for children. However, she couldn’t help herself as she extended her hand to his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Just as quickly, she pulled her hand away, still skiddish in case Jake somehow found out that someone else had held her hand even for a brief moment.

"For a little while, I suppose. Then I need to get started on the evening meal for Jason. It's the least I can do since he's letting me stay for a while." Grace said softly, wiping her palm on her skirt.

Her dress was one of her favorites. Light and airy cotton that was nice on a hot day like that day. She wore a slip beneath it to preserve her modesty, but it was one of the few things that she had brought into her marriage with Jake. She had made it herself with fabric she had saved for months to buy. In fact, it was probably that dress that first caught Jake's attention.

Gregor was almost surprised when Grace took his hand. He wasn't, however, surprised when she released it as soon as she was stable on her feet. Gregor would have liked to hold her hand all the way to the camp, but he'd already known that was unlikely.

They made their way silently along the stream's bank, Gregor leading and occasionally glancing back with a pleased smile. Where the trail suddenly rose up from the creek to the field's edge higher above it, Gregor offered Grace a hand. When she reached the top before him, the distant sun shone through the thin layers of her white dress, silhouetting her incredible form. Gregor's eyes widened as he ogled her shape. When she glanced back at him, he quickly diverted his eyes.

Together side by side, they walked the hundred yards or so to the circled wagons. It was a typical Romani early morning, meaning that half the Family members were hard at work doing chores to prepare for life and the upcoming day of carnavale while the other half were still asleep in their vardos recuperating from the carnavale of the previous late evening.

"Come this way, Grace" Gregor again asked, offering out his hand. "I will introduce you to Father."

Gregor doubted that Grace would take his hand, but either way he would smile to the beauty and lead her toward the southern curve of the circled vardo. There, in the shade of the wagon's north side, was an ancient looking man sleeping in a rocking chair. Gregor stopped them a dozen yards short of the old man and looked about the camp for a moment. He flagged down a boy of no more than 5 years of age. The boy hurried over eagerly, telling Gregor hello and then simply staring into the face of the unknown woman with a smile.

"This is cousin Horace," Gregor told Grace, taking liberty with the familial connection as Horace was actually his third cousin-in-law by marriage only if you discounted an adoption that filled the lineage. After taking a knee before the boy, Gregor told him, "And this is my friend Grace."

"Hi!" the broadly smiling boy said with the energy of a shotgun blast. He added almost immediately, "Pretty fire!"

Gregor chuckled, then looked up to Grace. He explained, "He means your hair. We don't have many Family with hair as red as yours ... as red as fire."

Gregor hesitated a moment, smiling a bit broader to Grace as she added in a sincere tone, "We don't have many Family as pretty as you either."

He looked for Grace's response, then turned back to the boy. "Horace ... tell me ... what is your dream?"

The boy looked confused yet held his smile. Gregor continued, "What it is that you want to be when you grow up?"

Horace's face filled with realization. He backed up a step, crouched a bit, and performed a perfect back flip. He landed solidly on his feet, threw his arms out to the side, and said with the same energy as ever, "Ta daaaaa!"

Gregor looked to Grace with a wide smile, then gestured her attention to the acrobatics ring. It had a Barnum and Bailey feel to it, though it was not nearly as elaborate. There was a high wire apparatus, but it was a mere 6 feet of the ground and only 25 feet long. It was secured by poles and heavy ropes staked to the ground. There was a large trampoline station off a few yards to one side with seats atop poles onto which the artists would land with precision after bouncing high into the air while doing one or more flips. Pairs of stilts -- the tallest 12 feet high -- leaned up against the high wire, the stiltmen's clown costumes hanging from the foot pedals. And more, a mini circus that could be set up in half a day to entertain and taken down even faster to escape when needed.

"Horace is going to be an acrobat," Gregor explained. He looked back to the boy and asked, "Wouldn't you rather be a farmer? Or a Sheriff? Or maybe a President. Something more than the man on the flying trapeze."

They didn't have a flying trapeze -- not yet -- but Horace knew what one was. He'd seen one when the Family's path crossed that of Barnum and Bailey the previous year. He had shook his head no at each of Gregor's suggested careers, and when the older Romani went silent, Horace repeated his back flip, looked to Grace, stuck out his hand -- expecting a coin -- and said again, "Ta daaaa!"

Gregor gently slapped Horace's hand away, then gave the boy a penny from his own pocket and grabbed hold of him, pulling him close. He pointed to the man in the rocker and urged Horace that direction. The boy hurried toward the vardo with stealth, slowing to a creep, before reaching a hand out toward the sleeping man's coat pocket.

Suddenly, the not-so-asleep man's hand slashed out and grasped Horace's wrist, so quickly that it startled the boy. Horace immediately began laughing as he playfully tried to get away, then settled down. The old man reached into his coat pocket himself, withdrew a wrapped candy, and handed it to the boy before gesturing him to go off an play. Horace ran away, glancing toward Grace with a smile, then slowing to do some acrobatic flips, jumps, and twists before disappearing beyond the vardo circle.

"Father, this is Missus Grace Townsend," Gregor told the old man after he had gestured the redheaded beauty to follow him to where the man sat. As the old Romani smiled -- bearing a mostly toothless grin -- he reached a frail, wrinkled hand out to Grace as Gregor went on, "Grace, this is my father ... my great grand father, Constantin Vidraru."

With a heavy accent that was almost incomprehensible, the old man said with a slow, careful pace, "Bea-u-ti-ful wo-men ... all over ... the world ... have called me ... Connie. You, my dear ... the most bea-u-ti-ful ... will call me Connie."

"Father is a bit of a ... flirt," Gregor explained after a chuckle. He looked to Connie, asking, "What did you call--"

The old Romani cut in with a slow answer, "Bărbatul ... femeii."

Gregor explained to Grace, "Woman's man. Ladies' man is correct, yes?"

He looked back to Connie with a loving expression while he explained to Grace, "Father is the oldest member of our Family. We don't know exactly how old you are, do we, Father...? Papa Don says Father is well into his nineties ... but I believe he is more likely into his one hundred and nineties sometimes."

Connie flashed his ancient smile to Grace again, telling her his take on an old saying, "Old ... e-nough ... know bet-ter ... young e-nough ... not care."

"Flirt," Gregor said softly, looking to Grace and giving her a shrug. He looked back to Connie and asked, "Father ... what was your dream as a young man?"

Connie didn't understand the question at first, so Gregor repeated it. Connie looked to Grace again and said with his never depleted charm answered, "Frumoasa cu părul roşu zeita."

Gregor's Romanian wasn't nearly as good as his oldest and last living direct decendent, but after he questioned Connie a moment, he laughed. He told Grace, "Beautiful red haired goddess."

Gregor watched for Grace's reaction, then turned back to Connie. "Father, really, what was your dream? What did you want more than anything else?"

"Americii," Connie said without hesitation. He looked about the camp as he ever so slowly spread his arms out to each side as if taking in all about him. He repeated in his staggered English, "A-mer-i-ca!"

Connie smiled to Grace and gestured for her hand again. After giving it an intimate squeeze, he told her, "Land of beau-ti-ful."

And with that, he slowly laid back into his chair, gave each of them a delighted grin, and closed his eyes. Gregor stood again and gently took Grace's elbow to turn her away from the old man. He would gently maintain his hold on her if she didn't show sign of wanting to be free of him.

"Everyone here has a dream, Grace," Gregor began. He gestured toward a woman in the shade of her own vardo, around which were half a dozen children ranging from infant to perhaps six years of age. "Annika wanted to give her husband children. She did, obviously."

He gestured toward a young man on his back under a vardo, slamming a hammer against the frame he was repairing. "Erik wanted to be needed. That is all ... to be needed. It was his dream."

Gregor explained that as a boy, Erik's parents had ignored him except for when they needed something to hit or kick. They'd called him worthless and under foot dozens a time a day for years, never giving him any task, chore, or work for which he could develop pride of accomplishment. He lived in a little burg outside of Atlanta, Georgia, and when the Romani passed through one summer, Erik saw how every member of the gypsy Family was valued by the others. He packed a pillow case full of clothes and prized possessions and fled in the night, catching up with the Romani just after sunrise the next day.

"He was 11 when he joined the Family, to fulfill his dream," Gregor told Grace, "and he's been a gypsy ever since."

Gregor pointed to one last person, a beautiful woman sitting on a stool as she and others worked on an equally beautiful quilt. It would likely be finished today and hung amidst a display of fiber arts that would -- hopefully -- fetch a good price from the locals who would soon be arriving for the midday events, shows, and market.

"Karla wanted to be an acrobat like Horace," Gregor explained. The woman looked up and caught sight of the pair. She smiled and waved to the pair, then went back to her work, laughing and singing with the other women. "She was very good at a little girl. A marvel to watch. The crowd tossed so many coins to the mat at the end of her act that it took four boys to gather them all in time for the next act to begin."

As Karla shifted the quilt before her, it revealed that her left leg now ended at an ankle stump. Gregor looked to Grace for her reaction and considered explaining how a couple years earlier, the young woman had fallen from her vardo in a horrific wind storm, getting her leg caught in the turning wheel. But instead, he added with a sincere, deeply felt tone, "Dreams change, Grace. Life changes them. Karla dreamed of being the Family's first trapeze star ... maybe even joining the real circus ... the Greatest Show on Earth."

He gestured to Karla again, then gestured to the man upon whom her eyes had settled as he came out from under the wagon he'd been repairing. Erik shed his shirt to wipe the sweat from his muscular body before moving to the front end to check the result of his work.

"Now," Gregor said with a devilish smirk, "Karla's dream is to provide Erik with as many children as Annika has provided her own husband."

He explained that Karla's first dream had been to marry a Romani from a Family closely related to this one. She had met him and fallen in love, despite neither of them yet being in their teens. A marriage was arranged between the two fathers ... and then ... Karla fell in love with Erik, who had only recently come to the Family. Karla had refused to go through with the arranged marriage, and for the last year, she and Erik had been waiting for permission from her father to be wed.

Her father had and still claimed that he didn't approve of Erik's non-Romani bloodline. But everyone knew that the issue was pride. Karla's father had taken a long time getting past his daughter step back from the marriage he had arranged. But he had gotten past it. The delay of her marriage to Erik now was more ... gently spite. He was enjoying making his daughter squirm, particularly when it came to making her word so hard at keeping secret the fact that she and Erik snuck away often to practice at making their first baby. Gregor had once overheard -- and then laughed hysterically at -- Karla's father telling Papa Don, "I think I will hold back permission until my daughter's belly is fat with that man's child ... just to see how long they will continue to tell me they are waiting for me."

"Grace, we all have dreams," Gregor continued. "We all yearn for our dreams to come true. Sometimes we get exactly what we wish for. Sometimes, we find new dreams. Sometimes our dreams stay as they are, but ... find it with someone new."

That last part was, of course, Gregor's way of telling Grace that perhaps her dream should be to marry and find happiness with a new man. Maybe ... maybe even he himself. He laughed and finished, "Maybe your dream should be to run away with the gypsies ... to find a new man ... a new husband ... who will help you find yet more dreams that will make you happy ... for the whole of a very long life."

He turned to gesture toward the ancient Connie, just as the man was again catching a young boy reaching into his candy pocket.

Grace looked around at the camp as Gregor showed her what it had to offer and told her the stories of all of those that that lived there. It was a different world from what she had grown up in, of course, but she felt a tiny little connection to this place. It was a life of constant work but they each felt fulfilled in their own way.

She had grown up on a farm, used to early mornings and backbreaking labor. Her first few weeks with Jake had seemed like a dream compared to her father’s house. The endless gifts and parties had enchanted her at first, but then Jake had started to show her just what kind of a man he really was. Jealous, angry, cold. Those weren’t the words she ever thought would be used to describe her future husband.

“It’s not that easy.” She said softly, glancing towards Gregor. “I grew up here. Everything I’ve ever known is here. My husband is also a very powerful man with very powerful friends. I can’t just leave him and never look back. He would find a way to find me and bring me back.”

She wanted so badly to believe that her husband would change. He had it in him to be happy because she had seen fleeting instances of it, but she didn’t know if he would really ever change. That was what frightened her. She might break before he did.

“He hasn’t always been like this. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.” She said as she glanced down to the dirt beneath her feet.

“Grace Elizabeth!!” Came a shout from across the field and Grace instantly snapped her attention towards the figure of her father as he stalked her direction.

“Dad?” She murmured, so confused as to why he was there.

Walter Evans looked just like his daughter. His hair was thick and red, his skin a pasty pale color that belied the fact that he worked in the sun every single day of his life. He was on the wrong side of 50, deep lines etched into his face from the stress of raising a passel of children and keeping a farm afloat. He was tall and skinny, his overalls patched many times by the expert hand of his current wife. He also had an expression on his hat shaded face that told Grace he was as mad as a hornet.

“Did Jake send you?” Grace asked as she excused herself from Gregor’s side. “Daddy, I’m not going back to him right now.”

It was clear to her by the way that Walter continued to stalk her direction that Jake had either contacted her father and demanded that he get involved or he had finally come through on his promise to give him the money that he so desperately needed.

Gregor wasn't surprised by Grace's response. She wasn't a coin that could simply be turned in an instant to its opposite side. Her yearning for a better life was strong, but her fear of her husband's wrath should the better life she choose not include him was stronger. She said about her situation with Jake...

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

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"You've done nothing--"

But Gregor didn't get to finish his defense of her as a man hollered from near the perimeter of the circled wagons...

“Grace Elizabeth!!”

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It didn't take a genius to know who the approaching man was, simply from the tone of his voice and body language. The man who Gregor would eventually learn was named Walter Evans wasn't what Gregor would have expected from Grace's father. After seeing Jake in his suits and Grace in her fashionable dresses, Gregor wouldn't have expected the latter's father to have the look of a poor dirt farmer. And yet, somehow, the unexpected appearance of the man was comforting to Gregor.

“Dad? Did Jake send you?”

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Grace excused herself and started for the man. Gregor watched the two as they spoke with animation. And already he knew that any advances he'd made with her were now up in smoke. Walter grasped his daughter's arm as he spoke with her, glancing at Gregor, then at the rest of the camp, then back to Grace. Then, he snatched her by the hand and turned for the gate, expecting her to follow.



Jason ascended the back stairs of the house three steps at a time, rushing through the door to call out, "Grace!"

He dropped onto the bench in the back hall, stripped his muddy boots, coat, and over shirt. He headed into the kitchen for a glass of orange juice, and this time called out, "Inga?"

Where was everyone? Snatching a cinnamon roll from a covered pan, he headed down a second hall to the bathroom. He'd finished most of his morning chores and got Harold to get some Romani to do the rest in exchange for another goose, a dozen chicken eggs, and three wheelbarrow loads of firewood. He stripped down to nothing and turned on the water. The water heated by the oil furnace in the basement was soon filling the small room with steam.

Jason was excited. He knew he should have been concentrating on Grace's needs and protection, but he couldn't get making love to Inga again out of his mind...

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Jake called me earlier, fit to be tied, saying that you had skipped out on him." Walter seethed at his daughter. "I raised you better than that."

His daughter's head dipped when he said that, putting tremendous guilt on her about the grim state of her marriage. He would never tell her that his son-in-law had given him $100 and had promised another hundred if Grace returned to him by the end of the day. That was a lot of money to a man whom was barely making ends meet.

"I didn't skip out on him, Dad. He's not been treating me well." Grace said, looking him in the eye as she said that. "I'm not going back until he sees that."

"Not treating you well? Grace, he's your damn husband. How can he not be treating you well?" Walter asked, unable to see that there might be any kind of abuse going on. "I ought to tan your hide myself for making me come all the way out here. I had to leave your mother alone with the rest of your siblings. You know she's not been well."

"Especially since she's having another baby." Grace muttered, watching as a stormy look crossed her father's face.

He reached out and grabbed her arm, jerking her towards the gate after him. She stumbled, glancing over her shoulder at Gregor with embarrassment. This wasn't how she expected her afternoon to go when she had walked to the stream earlier.

"Not a single one of my children has ever dared to talk to me that way. You ain't big enough that I can't still take you over my knee. It doesn't matter if your husband is the king of England." Walter raged, dragging his daughter after him until she jerked herself away and stared at him with an achingly sad face.

"And I'm not your responsibility anymore, daddy. If you're not going to believe that my husband is treating me poorly, then you can just go home and forget about me. I don't need you in my life anymore." Grace said, tears already forming on her thick lashes as she struggled so hard not to cry over the situation.



As Jason showered, a sleek black cat settled on the edge of his sink, staring at him as he worked. When the curtain opened, the cat was still there, tilting his head to the side with a soft mew. Inga had retrieved Koshki, bringing him with her back to Jason's house that afternoon. It was a sure sign that the woman wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"I don't need you in my life anymore."

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"Is there a problem, Missus Townsend?" The question came from a big Romani who approached the arguing couple from the direction of the farm house. Harold slowly his pace as Walter Evans turned to face him, extending his concern with, "Is this man bothering you?"

"This man is her father, you worthless gypsy!" Walter spat out. "This doesn't concern you!"

"It concerns me." The second voice came from the opposite direction. Gregor also waited for Grace's father to turn and look his way. But unlike Harold, who had stopped some 30 feet from the father daughter pair, Gregor continued forward slowly. He asked with a soft tone, "Grace ... are you alright?"



Jason flinched at the sight of the cat on the sink's edge, staring and meowing at him. He greeted it, asked it from where it had come, then suddenly recalled having seen it -- or at least a cat similar to it -- in Inga's Seer tent the first time he'd attempted to speak with her.

He pushed the cloth shower curtain aside and stepped out of the claw foot bathtub to find the usual small puddle of cooling water on the floor. The arrangement of turning the tub into a shower by running a hose up high to a fitting with a sprinkler nozzle stolen from a watering can wasn't the kind of convenience that was included in his brother's house, which had been built only two years ago in 1922. It tended to leak water all over the floor, as was evident now; the iron pipes and fitting holding the cloth in a circle around the claw foot tended to send red rust stains down the cloth; and -- making the rust moot at some point -- the cloth tended to get moldy, requiring it to be replaced every other month. But hey, it was still more efficient and got the farmer cleaner faster, with less water, and without that soap suds residue that made him itch for an hour afterward.

Snatching up a towel, Jason dried himself fairly well before wrapping the cloth around his waist. He stuck his head out of the bathroom door, calling the names of the two women who should have been in the house or just outside perhaps. He called for Harold and got the same response.

Jason began to worry, heading out into the kitchen in just the towel. He looked out the windows for some sign of either the women or trouble. But from where he was, the encounter taking place out near the fence gate was hidden by a trio of large oak trees and a slight rise in the ground.

The violent shaking of Grace's body told them all that she was trying so hard not to let this break her down. When she turned to look at Gregor as he stepped forward, she couldn't stop the fat tears that escaped from her lashes and coursed down her cheeks. She had no friends. She had a husband that didn't seem to love her. She had a father that hadn't loved her in a very long time. The realization that she was now very much alone was a bitter pill to swallow and Grace felt like her entire world were suddenly crashing down around her.

"Little girl, I will give you something to cry about. Stop your damned blubbering and come on. I'm taking you home." Walter insisted, not phased by the much larger men who were trying to intimidate him into leaving.

"No." Grace whispered, shaking her head. "I don't want to go home."


The black cat followed after Jason, rubbing against his legs as he stopped to look out the window for Grace or Inga. The loud purring from the animal showed that he was content, and almost as if on cue, Inga entered the dining room from the direction of the stairs.

"Why do you keep yelling my name? I was putting away some of my things." Inga asked, looking at Jason curiously.

"Little girl, I will give you something to cry about..."

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Gregor was conflicted about what to do. He had initially only lusted for the beautiful, petite redhead. But with every passing moment in her presence -- many of them revealing her life as far less than she'd hoped it would be -- he'd come to care deeply about her ... about her safety, about her future, about her happiness. He was certain that Grace would not find all three -- or even one of the three -- in the home of her husband. Gregor's true question, though, was whether or not she could find them with him and the Romani.

"Stop your damned blubbering and come on. I'm taking you home."

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Gregor glanced to Harold -- and after the two made eye contact -- he almost inconspicuously shook his head no. Gregor had prevented Jake from taking his wife away earlier in the day, and he wasn't about to let her father take her away now. He just needed to know for certain that...

"No." Grace whispered, shaking her head. "I don't want to go home."

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And ... that was what Gregor had needed. He'd been nearly the father and daughter slowly during the entire encounter, but now he accelerated his pace to close the final twenty or so feet.

"Grace is staying here for now, sir," he told Walter with a respectful tone.

"Here...?" the older man responded before laughing. "Here...? With a band of dirty, thieving gypsies?"

Now standing as near to Grace as Grace was to her father, Gregor said with a soft voice, "If she wishes."

If Grace was to look through her tears to Gregor, she would find that he was once again offering a hand out to her, as he had at the stream's edge earlier.

"Why do you keep yelling my name?"

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Jason turned away from the window to find Inga standing in the doorway with the same expression his sister-in-law would don when she and Jake came to visit and found his bachelor's kitchen piled high with dishes. He'd always blamed the lack of cleanliness indoors on the never ending lack of chores outdoors, but, really, the true reason was, well, that he was a bachelor.

"I was putting away some of my things."

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Her words caused his lips to spread slowly in a smile of realization. And along with that effect on his body came another one much lower. As he moved slowly closer to Inga, the towel wrapped around his body began to tent before his groin.

"Putting away some things ... some of your things ... in my house?" he asked with a delighted tone. He was close enough to Inga to take her into his arms, yet Jason waited. He wanted to hear her response to, "Does that mean you're staying for a while?"

Grace saw Gregor extend his hand towards her again, not expecting anything from her except to find her own comfort if she wished. The moment that Grace took his hand, Harold snagged her father and bundled him away. Walter raged, screaming back at his daughter that she wasn’t going to ruin any of this for him.

She was sobbing in earnest before she realized it. Deep, wrenching sobs that shook her entire body. Things were supposed to be simple, to be a happily ever after, but it was all just a dark nightmare.


Inga raised an eyebrow at Jason as he came near to her, the towel around his hips doing little to hide his arousal. When he asked what she meant by moving in her things, she gave a slight brig of her shoulders. It was simply easier to have what she needed there if she was going to be sticking around for a while.

“I might be convinced to stick around for a while longer.” She said, watching as Koshki scurried off for somewhere else in the house.

"Let me help you back to your car," Harold said with a friendly tone as he was carefully but firmly hustling Walter Evans away from the camp. The man raged, screaming Grace, but the big Romani only kept the farmer moving, reassuring him that all would be well and that his daughter would be safe. For the fun of it, Harold asked, "Would you be interested in a roll in the hay with a fine young gypsy--"

That as all the farther Harold had gotten before Walter's rants sent him into laughter.

Behind them, Grace was sobbing. Gregor moved up closer to her, hesitated, reached out to take her upper arms gently into his hands, hesitated again, then pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.

"It's okay, you're safe," Gregor told her, slipping a hand up to the back of her head and holding her face to his chest. He'd wanted to say you're safe with me, but honestly, Gregor wasn't entirely sure whether Grace's desire to be away from Jake was the same thing as her wanting to be with him. To be entirely honest, he actually thought -- feared! -- that she didn't want to be with him anymore than she did her husband! As he held her, Gregor asked, "Where can I take you? Do you want to go back to Jason's? Or..."

He hesitated before saying it, not wanting to sound like he was taking advantage of the situation with an eye on slipping between Grace's thighs while she was desperate for someone to care for her. But he told her, "You can stay in my vardo if you wish, Grace. You will be safe there. I will stay right outside ... watch over you. I won't ever let anyone hurt you ... ever!"

“I might be convinced to stick around for a while longer.”

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Jason's smile broadened with obvious delight. He asked Inga if she knew where Grace was, getting the answer that his sister-in-law had taken a walk down to the stream. He told Inga as he moved in to kiss her, "That means we have the house to ourselves for a while."

Grace had always loved the little waterway there and the way the high bank looked out upon the rolling hills, so much so that she often sat down there for hours. (Of course, it had never occurred to Jason that maybe she'd simply wanted to get away from life -- from Jake -- and that was the reason for her temporary escape from reality.)

As he kissed the Romani beauty more passionately, Jason caressed his hands down her body, took hold of her dress, and began raising it. It was his intention to pull it off over Inga's head, lift her to the table and make love to her right here and now.

Warm arms were pulling her close, almost rocking her as Gregor allowed her to sob against his chest. Grace was embarrassed, crying like a child in the arms of a man whom she did not know. She wasn’t a woman to cry over little things. Probably the last time she had cried this hard was the day her mother died when she was a small child. She felt much the same now, a lost little girl who didn’t know which direction to take.

“I don’t know where I want to go.” Grace admitted, swiping at her eyes with her hand as she struggled to pull herself together. “I don’t think I want to really be anywhere right now. Nowhere wants me.”


Inga melted as Jason kissed her passionately. He was one of the few men in her entire life that ever made her feel that way. He was incredibly handsome but most importantly, he was a good man. He worked hard and did all that he could for those that he loved. She hoped that maybe one day that might include her.

Cool air brushed against the back of her legs as he worked on pulling her dress up and off her body. Jason was always raring to go the moment the mood struck either of them. That certainly made her grin as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, pressing her lush body against his own.

"Nowhere wants me.”

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Grace's comment was crushing to Gregor. She was so lost; so desperate for someone who cared for her in the way she needed. He pulled her closer to him, so much so that he could feel the curves of her breasts against his chest.

"I want you," he whispered. He turned and slipped an arm around Grace's back, heading her toward the camp. He didn't like the way that might have sounded to her, so he quickly began to clarify, "I don't mean ... I mean..."

Gregor didn't finish what he was trying to get across. He headed Grace through the wagons' perimeter toward his own vardo, but then though better. He turner her. "I'm going to take you to Inga's. You'll be safe there. And I won't leave you. I promise you, Grace. I will not leave you."




Inga's dress came easily up over her head and away to the floor, leaving her before Jason in no more than her panties and boots. Jason backed a bit to ogle her slim, young body. Her nipples hardened suddenly at the coolness of the room ... or perhaps simply at the anticipation of what was ahead. He slipped one hand around her arm to her back, while the other found her belly and caressed upward to gently cup a breast.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, lightly squeezing Inga's breast, pinching her pert nipple between the soft flesh of two fingers as he leaned in to kiss her passionately again. When their lips parted, he said with passion, "I want you ... here ... now."

Jason grasped Inga's buttocks and lifted her to the table. He quickly worked her panties off her hips, past her knees, and away from her ankles, to join her dress on the floor. In the process, Jason's towel had fallen away. He slipped his hands under Inga's knees to the front of her thighs, moved the head of his cock to the wetness of her folds, and gently entered her, wanting to hear Inga moan, cry, and scream to the joy of being his lover.

"I want you," he whispered. He turned and slipped an arm around Grace's back, heading her toward the camp. He didn't like the way that might have sounded to her, so he quickly began to clarify, "I don't mean ... I mean..."

Grace looked up at Gregor as he steered her towards the wagons, stammering over what he had intended to say. She would never believe that anyone wanted her. Years of neglect had made her feel next to worthless. She could barely remember her mother at this point in her life. Elizabeth Gunner Evans had been a German immigrant, a delightful woman who loved her daughter beyond reason. She doted on little Grace, teaching her things beyond her years that she still remembered to that day. The day that Elizabeth had died with her little brother was a day that still felt like a nightmare to Grace.

Her mother had gone into labor early, trying to put on a brave face for her toddler as she went about her day as if nothing was wrong. Grace had known that her mother wasn't alright. She had clung to Elizabeth's side until she was tucked into bed that evening. By morning, Elizabeth was gone. The next time that Grace saw her mother and the first time she ever saw her brother was in the handmade casket that seemed to have appeared in their living room by the next evening. Little Grace had stared for hours at her mother, waiting for her to open her eyes and smile. She even tried the little German phrases that her mother had taught her, hoping that her native tongue might stir her. It hadn't worked and within six months, Grace had a new mother and new siblings that soon followed. Her father had never talked about her mother again after that day and he highly discourage her from visiting the woman's grave.

She cried harder as she remembered that day, her stomach turning as she struggled not to get sick. She felt Gregor lifting her off her feet and carrying her the rest of the way to the vacant wagon. Her chest hurt from the heaving sobs and the aching sadness that had settled in her slender body. She had never had the chance to properly grieve her mother, but now it felt as if she were grieving for the little life that would never come to be. Before she knew it, she was being tucked beneath the sheets of a bed inside one of the vardos.

It smelled like exotic herbs and spices in there, a stick of incense lazily smoking in the corner. Grace glanced up at Gregor as he carefully tucked the silk material around her, telling her to rest as he took a seat on the other bed in the wagon. She was so confused, but incredibly tired, her eyes closing as she finally calmed and got the rest that she so desperately needed. The last thing that she was aware of was the sound of the other bed dipping beneath Gregor, the gypsy settling in to keep his promise that she was safe.


Inga felt a secret thrill at standing naked in the middle of Jason's kitchen. She grinned up at him as he slid his hand over her smooth skin, cupping her breast before he plucked at her nipple with his fingers. She let out a heated whimper, his lips capturing her's again before he leaned in and confessed that he wanted her right then and there.

"There's nothing stopping you." Inga murmured as he suddenly gripped her bottom and lifted her off her feet, setting her on the edge of the table and doing away with her panties.

Inga's legs were draped across Jason's chest, his cock pressing into her wet folds in the most delicious way possible. He stretched her, made her want so much more, and she howled her pleasure as her fingers curled around the edge of the table to hang on for dear life.

"Thank you," Gregor whispered to the little girl standing just inside the door of Inga's vardo. "Find Papa Don. Ask him to make his way here ... at his convenience ... and, see the Tea Lady ... for a bottle of Sleeping Tonic."

The five year old was one of the two Romani children Gregor had borrowed for his visit to the flower garden at Grace's home -- or Jake's home, as Grace would likely say. Gregor had caught sight of her as he carried the spent Grace through the camp and had nodded her to follow. She'd preceded them into Inga's vardo, getting the door and pulling back the bedding; then she'd unlaced and pulled away Grace's boots while Gregor stood at the door with his back to them, as if afraid Grace might think she was being stripped for some sort of freakish taboo gypsy sex thing.

Gregor pressed a coin into the girl's palm and told her to go get the Sleeping Tonic. The Tonic was, of course, little more than very fragrant, very fruity, highly alcoholic liqueur. It was sold to the carnavale's visitors as a remedy for a host of ailments, and while the labels of the bottles identified them differently for their individual purposes -- one for gout, one for arthritis, one for whatever was your ill -- each of the bottles was filled with the same snake oil concoction, with only some of the ingredients changed to produce a different scent or taste and make them appear a unique cure.

Gregor pressed another coin into the girl's other hand, telling her it was for her. Still whispering, he told her, "Stay close. I may need you."

Uncharacteristically for most Romani, the girl tried to give the second coin back, explaining, "I like Miss Gracie."

Without being asked to do so, she explained to Gregor that she, the other flower picker from that first day, and yet other smaller Romani children had been spending a great deal of time up running between the camp and the ranch house or -- often -- simply spending time at the latter. Sometimes they'd been running errands, such as trading Romani trinkets and ethnic foods that Jason had been devouring by the platter and bowl for eggs, flour, and other items from Jason's own kitchen; and sometimes they'd simply been having fun, playing with the puppies that had been born a couple of weeks earlier or climbing the gigantic Elm trees out before the farmer's house.

"You take this," Gregor insisted, turning the girl for the door, "and when you get back, you sit out on the step. You are my chaperone while I stay with Miss Gracie. You understand chaperone?"

The girl shook her head, then left without waiting for an explanation. Gregor was eager to have Grace down a few tablespoons of the Sleeping Tonic in an attempt to calm her nerves and perhaps even get some rest. But by the time the little girl was gone and he had turned around, Grace looked as though she was ready to fade away without any prohibited alcoholic assistance.

Gregor moved closer to Grace as she looked up to him. He marveled that even now, with her eyes puffy and red from crying, the redhead was still the most beautiful woman upon whom his gaze had ever settled. He moved to her slowly, not wanting to concern her as she lay in another's bed with only a gypsy man accompanying her. He pulled the bedding over her and tucked it gently beneath her side, again careful not to let his hands seem to be going places they shouldn't.

"Rest," he whispered. "You are safe here. You have friends here."

Gregor kept his gaze on Grace as he sat on the second narrow bed. It was Papa Don's, though he rarely if ever slept in it. The old man was treasured and respected amongst the Family -- their leader, their Patriarch -- and as such there was always a young Romani woman ready and eager to keep him warm at night and fulfill his still present needs. The latest girl, Chloe, had been with Papa Don for almost two years now, since his previous bed warmer, Pita, had taken an interest in Harold. Papa Don had, of course, encouraged the relationship between Pita and Harold: after all, he was an old man and couldn't offer his lovers anything more than a place of honor, which being the bed partner of one of the five current Romani Elders was. And now, Pita spent her days waddling about the camp, just days from bearing her husband Harold's first child.

As Gregor watched over her, Grace's eyes closed and she faded away into dream land. Gregor could only hope that her unconscious was finding happy thoughts. He drew a deep breath and released it with a sigh, thinking to himself, After this day...? He sat back in the bed to simply stare at the fiery haired angel for the longest time. The little girl would return with the now unnecessary Tonic; and a bit later Papa Don would arrive and get a rundown of the situation concerning Grace, her father, her husband, and her local Sheriff.

"Should we start packing?" Papa Don asked the worried younger Romani when the two were standing outside the vardo. "This Sheriff ... this husband, he is a judge, yes...? These are troubles we may not be able..."

Papa Don didn't finish: if was obvious in Gregor expression and body language that he understood the situation he'd caused. Gregor began to apologize, but Papa Don cut in, "A man walks to the edge of a rumbling volcano..."

The old man didn't have to continue: Gregor had heard the ... what was it called, metaphor? ...a hundred times before. A man walks to the edge of a rumbling volcano, which suddenly erupts and rains death and destruction down upon the village below. The man survives the lava and ash, only to be hung by the village's survivors because, obviously, it was he who caused the volcano to blow.

The implication, of course, was that Gregor was simply in the wrong place at the right time. But as he said this to Papa Don, the wise old Elder came in close and looked him in the eye to say, "Or ... were you in the right place ... at the right time. What would this woman of the red hair say was the right answer."

"Right now...?" Gregor began. But he went silent. He'd been ready to say right now she would say wrong place, wrong time. But ... could he be wrong? If it had not been his flirtations at the fight, it might have been another man's. And, at the least, Gregor knew that he was ready to step up and do the right thing when it came to Grace's future.

Gypsy, Gregor reminded himself as he returned quietly to sit once again on the bed opposite the sleeping Grace. Dirty, stinking, thieving gypsy. Isn't that what they called you?

Grace's dreams were about as tumultuous as her reality. When she were at home with her husband, she barely slept more than a few hours a night. When Jake was gone for the day, she would nap in the early afternoon, but sleeping next to him had proven difficult since their first night together. It wasn't that she was unused to sharing a bed with someone. She and her sister Sarah had slept side by side for years. However, she never really knew when Jake would reach across the bed and pull her into a passionate embrace or when he would chide her for moving around too much.

She dreamed of travel, but Jake was always there. He had been the first person to take her out of her home town. He had chosen Kansas City for their honeymoon, mostly for business purposes, but it didn't matter to Grace. She had been glued to the window of the train as it trundled along, trying to get Jake as excited in what she saw as she was. He had simply watched her for a while before he buried his head in his newspaper. Three weeks after their wedding, he had also taken her to Oklahoma City, showing her off at a governor's ball where she tried so hard not to make a fool of herself. Jake had seemed pleased at the end of the night and had treated her well for the following few days. There had been other trips discussed, including a grand tour of Europe, but so far nothing had come of all of that talk.

She often dreamed of walking along the rocking corridor of a train car. The windows were dark, misty beyond what she could see. As the train clacked along the track, Grace tried her hardest to reach the end. She felt as if she were late for something and the anxiety in her chest was rising. If she didn't make it to where she needed to go, she knew that she would be in trouble.

There were noises sounding behind her and Grace glanced over her shoulder, pausing as she saw someone lurking at the darkened end of the train car. When the figure started lurking towards her, she turned and ran. It didn't matter how fast she ran or how hard she worked, the end of the train remained just as far away while the shadow gained. She tried to scream but had no voice and she was lashing out as the shadow started to envelope her.

She was dimly aware of a warm hand on her cheek, a soothing voice telling her that she was alright. Grace turned her face into that hand, panting as she struggled to calm from the terrible dream. As she drifted back to sleep, she mumbled something under her breath, thanking Gregor for being there for her.

As Jason gripped Inga's thighs with strong yet gentle hands, pulling the undersides of them against his chest and belly, he felt his cock slip slowly into the warmth and wetness of her tight pussy. He drew a deep breath as he penetrated her, feeling her muscles give way to him, inch by inch, seeming in stages, as if breaking through one castle gate after another to reach a treasure vault beyond. And when he was finally as deep as he could get, his groin pressed firmly against her ass, Jason let the air escape in a loud, long groan of joyous delight.

He didn't realize it, but Jason's eyes had gone closed during the sinking of his length deep into Inga. He opened them now to look down at her, for her reaction to his stretching of her. He smiled as his chest already began rising and falling to the pleasure. And then he laughed.

"My God!" he said ... without any further clarification.

Jason leaned forward a bit more, bending Inga at the waist further as her knees came back more over the table. He released his grip on her the front of her upper legs and found her belly, caressing it for a long moment before slipping them up to take both breasts into his gently groping hands.

"I've never enjoyed being inside a woman as much as I do you, Inga," he said.

He'd meant it to sound romantic, but -- as his brain caught up with the words his mouth had spoken -- Jason realized that it had sounded a bit more ... dirty than he'd intended. He feared that Inga might be thinking this was just about fucking ... or worse, that she might suddenly be thinking about his fucking Marla just days earlier, or emptying his cock into Gerta's mouth the day after that.

Or had it been 'Greta'? he thought. It had been an incredible experience, his first fellatio, particularly performed upon him by a woman who'd obviously gone down on many a cock before his. But aside from the immediate and unforgettable joy of the moment, it had meant nothing to Jason, particularly when compared to what he had with and felt for Inga.

Jason's brain was scrambling to come up with a correction to his error, to what he feared sounded like little more than appreciation for the gypsy's tight pussy; and he opened his mouth with the intent of actually saying aloud I love you, Inga. But Jason caught himself before he spoke, knowing -- sensing -- that this was neither the time nor place to be speaking those words to woman beneath him.

He was so inexperienced with such situations. Even including the Romani, Jason could count his lovers on one hand. And of the three that had come before the arrival of the Family, he'd never said those words, I love you. They'd never been said to him either, so, it hadn't been an issue of commitment fear on Jason's part. He simply hadn't found the right woman to whom he could speak that treasured phrase.

Until now.

He was in love with Inga. Jason knew that. But ... why? Was it her incredible beauty? Was it her mysterious nature? Was it the warm, wet, tight pussy in which he was feeling so much pleasure? Was it ... oh ... could it possibly be, for the first time in Jason's life ... was it her desire to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her? He believed she felt the same way about him, even if neither of them had said so aloud.

And that was it. That was what he needed to say. He didn't have to tell her he loved her. He wanted to do so, but ... it wasn't time yet. So, without truly understanding that his next words were essentially the same as telling the black haired beauty that he loved her, Jason slid his hands under his lover's back and lifted her torso up until her breasts were against his chest and practically begged, "Inga Murtorovanni ... please stay with me."

He hesitated just a moment, kissing her as he pulled their bodies tighter together, then clarified, "After the Romani leave ... after your Family leaves ... please ... please stay with me."

He kissed her again, passionately, and only then -- as he waited for her response -- did Jason begin shifting his lower body to and fro with a speed and depth that Inga's reactions told him were just what she wanted.

Jason was not a man of sweet and lovely words. He tried, but it seemed that her stumbled over himself more often than not. Inga found it endearing. She didn't want a man to flatter her with sweet words. She wanted a man that expressed how he felt no matter how painful it might be. As he declared that he had never enjoyed being inside of a woman as much as her before, Inga actually laughed. She grinned, watching as the realization spread over his face at just what he had said and then as he stumbled to try and come up with something else that sounded better.

That laughter soon turned to a moan as his rough fingers spread across her flat belly and then cupped her lush mounds, pulling at her nipples again until she arched off the wooden surface of the table with a hiss of pleasure. This man, this farmer whom had never had a serious lover in his life, was showing her more passion than even her most exuberant lover. Gregor could have shown her a very good time, she was sure, but Jason was what she wanted.

"Inga Murtorovanni ... please stay with me. After the Romani leave ... after your Family leaves ... please ... please stay with me."

His words were a shock and Inga looked up at him with her dark gaze, slightly confused. "What?"

Did he really mean that? Did he really want her to stay with him, there on that farm, loving him and raising a family until they both died? Could she really do that? Her entire life had been on the road and while she had often considered settling down, she wondered if she really had it in her to give all of that up for a more honest living.

He seemed frantic, almost aggressive as he pulled her up, pressing her curves tighter against his hard chest and belly. Then he kissed her, halting her words and her concerns as he drugged her with the most deliciously passionate kisses she had ever experienced. Her hands were in his hair, holding him close as he started to fuck her in earnest.

Her fingers curled in his blonde locks, pulling his lips away from her own as she looked him dead in the eye. He was so honest that she could see he wasn't just saying those words to flatter her. He really wanted her there in his house, loving him, helping him, giving him children.

"Bend me over this table and fuck me like I know you can. Until I scream and until you fill my belly. Then, I'll give you my answer." Inga murmured, challenging him to show her that what he really wanted was the truth.

Grace's dreaming murmurs awoke Gregor with a start. He had watched over the beauty in the bed across from him for untold minutes before the exhaustion of the past days -- of being a Gypsy -- had caught up with him and sent him into the dream world as well.

Suddenly, she let out a scream of fear and raised her hands from under the bedding where they'd been resting about her torso. Her fingers were fisted tightly as if ready to fight, but the Romani fisticuffs fighter recognized the posture and position of her hands as defensive rather than offensive in nature. Grace was protecting herself from something -- or someone -- and while Gregor had a pretty good idea what or who, he knew that dreamland was often a place of mystery and vagueness. It was unlikely that Grace would even know from what or whom she was feeling fear.

At her scream and flinching, Gregor had slid quickly off Papa Don's bed and onto his knees near Inga's rack. He grasped Grace's wrists gently as they began to flail before her, telling her in soothing whispers, "You're safe, Grace. It's alright! You're safe here ... safe with me."

She continued to fight the unseen, unknown image in her dream for a moment, then slowly settled down. Without ever having opened her eyes, Grace murmured what sounded like a thank you, with an additional word that might have been Gregor's name.

He sensed movement behind him and looked to find the little girl standing in the open vardo door with a concerned look on her face, her eyes glazed with threatening tears. Gregor reassured her, "She's alright. Bad dream."

As the girl turned and left, Papa Don -- standing on the packed field's grassy surface just beyond the door -- looked inside to Grace, then to Gregor. He said in a low volume, "Stay with her tonight. No work tonight."

Gregor opened his mouth to speak to his need to contribute, but Papa Don waved him off and turned away. The little girl -- standing on the porch -- pulled the door shut, leaving Gregor to tend to the distraught woman with the destroyed flower bed.

He had been relaxing his hold on Grace's wrists as she calmed down. As he carefully moved them back under the bedding without touching the womanly features below them, Grace murmured again and rolled his way. Before he knew it, Gregor had an arm wrapped around his neck and the face of the woman for whom he cared so deeply pressed into his neck.

His eyes opened wide with shock. Grace was obviously asleep, but ... how deeply ... and for how long? If she were to wake this instant and find the two of them like this, she would surely freak! He recalled Grace's reaction when he'd kissed her at the stream. And that had only been a kiss!

Gregor froze and -- though he hadn't done it consciously -- held his breath a long moment. When he realized that he needed to breath, he turned his head to ensure that the warm air escaping him did not descend upon the woman's neck...

And ... the moment got longer ... a minute passed ... then two ... then ten. Somewhere along the line, Gregor's tired mind and body once again drifted off. His arm would slide out to lay innocently across Grace's waist; Grace's own arm would shift, though the sleeping man wouldn't know whether it was away from him or tighter around him.

And he dreamed ... much nicer dreams than those Grace had suffered, the ones that had sent him to her side. He dreamed of the stream, though it was now a deep blue with sparkling gold highlights ... the bank was thick with soft, green grass and a multitude of flowers, as opposed to its actual mixed species of weeds and bushes, all sinking their roots desperately into the pack clay. The sun was bright above but not hot; the shade was deep and soothing but not at all cold or scary, like the train passageway that had been so frightening to Grace.

And she was there.

Grace.

Walking the bank above Gregor, who paralleled her from below. Looking up at her with the sun beyond, Gregor found her in a way that was conflicting yet somehow possible: although he could see every little detail of her beautiful, angelic face -- as if the Gods were carrying a spotlight above her and following her slow pace along the bank -- Grace's body was also in silhouette, with the bright sun penetrating her thin, cotton dress and revealing to Gregor every little detail of her female perfection, down to her flawless, fair skin that covered her delicious body ... her pert pink nipples, hardened with an eagerness that Gregor's dreams told him were her desire to be naked in his arms ... her bush of curly hair at the meeting of her thighs and belly ... even the cute little toes of her bared feet that, whether real or not, were painted a bright red that seemed to shift in shade as her feet played in the bright green grass...

As he walked in his dream world, in his reality Gregor's sleeping feet -- tingling from the loss of blood flow from his awkward position -- couldn't have even gotten him upright if he'd wanted. But his mouth and voice box worked perfectly fine, and just as Grace's murmuring had awoken him earlier, Gregor's murmuring now spoke of the feelings he was developing for her.

"You're alright ... you're safe ... alright with me ... safe ... Grace ... safe ... love ... I love you ... Grace..."

The warmth of another human woke her slightly, the murmuring of a male voice that wasn't her husband's trickling through her sleepy brain. Grace opened her eyes slightly and saw how she intimately hugged Gregor with one arm, like a child with a toy that they were not willing to give up. He was murmuring in his sleep as well, professing his love for her.

He didn't know her. He didn't know how broken a person she really was. Without Jake, she would have been stuck at her father's home, working a farm and helping to raise her siblings. It was all that she had known until Jake had come and shown her that there was another world out there.

Grace wasn't stupid, although Jake often made her feel like she was. She hadn't gone to school much past the third grade as she was needed on the farm and she certainly had never set foot on a college campus like Jake had, but she loved to read and had a curious nature about her. She had asked him so many questions during their first few weeks of marriage that he had finally stopped her one day, telling her that he didn't have the time to teach her what she should have already known. That had stopped her quest for knowledge outside of what she had read in books.

She didn't bother to move her arm from where it curled around Gregor, sighing as she closed her eyes again. She felt...safe. Even though this man had tried to kiss her, which had led to other issues in her life, she knew in her gut that he would do anything he could for her.

"Bend me over this table and fuck me like I know you can..."

Click to expand...

Jason was surprised by Inga's request. Well, not so much by her request, but by the similarity it was to the words he himself had spoken about being inside her.

She continued...

"...Until I scream and until you fill my belly.

Click to expand...

As he held Inga tight against him and slowly moved his full length in and out of her, Jason thought of the result of the pleasure she was causing him. His passion for Inga -- his yearning to find ecstasy balls deep within her -- had initially overwhelmed Jason's concern about getting her pregnant. As he'd laid there in bed with her that first night -- clutching her warm body to his so tightly that the separation between them was almost nil -- Jason had tried to convince himself that Inga wouldn't have chanced getting knocked up by a non-Romani. She must have been very aware of her cycle, knowing it was safe to take his seed, right? Or maybe her people had a remedy -- herbal or otherwise -- for dealing with such situations. What about the prostitutes? Marla? Gerta? They couldn't possibly service so many customers without a solution, could they?

He'd convinced himself of this because for the life of him, Jason had no idea how he would deal with producing a child out of wedlock. Out of wedlock with a gypsy! How the hell would that work? She was a gypsy! It wasn't like he could go on the road with them to care for and raise his child. It wasn't like she was going to remain behind when the Family left to raise that child here.

At least...

That was what Jason had believed ... what he'd told himself to believe. But now...? Now, he not only believed that they could make it work -- for Inga to conceive his child -- but Jason found himself wanting his seed to find her egg. He was desperate to have her be his, to be his woman, his wife, his child's mother. He'd known her for days. Just days! And yet...

As he pulled his cock from within her and lowered her to her feet, Inga challenged him...

"Then, I'll give you my answer."

Click to expand...

Jason spun her around to face the kitchen table, clutching at her body with one hand as the other turned her head back. He met Inga's mouth in a hungry kiss. He released his upper hand's hold , crouching behind her to kiss her shoulders as his lower hand caressed downward to find the now sloppy wetness between her thighs. He sunk a finger inside her, probing as the other hand clutched eagerly at a firm tit. His probing finger moved upwards, to Inga's clitoris, working quickly to find just the touch until her sounds and movements told Jason that he could drive her to orgasm this way.

And he continued. Jason clutched Inga's torso tightly to his with one strong arm while the fingers of the hand of the other pleasured her sensitive nub. He wetted it when necessary, thrusting it inside her well lubed hole before returning to his rapid manipulation. He wouldn't stop until he felt Inga exploding in his arms, and even then he wouldn't stop until she begged him to do so.

With a hand pressed to her, just beneath her breasts, Jason would feel Inga's heart pounding within her rising and falling chest. When he could feel that she was coming down from her high, Jason released his hold on Inga's torso and -- as he'd been directed -- bent her over the table. He reached a hand between her thighs, below her delicious ass, to wet his fingers, then -- with those coated fingers -- wet his cock again and, grasping Inga's hips tightly, shoved it forward.

He would fuck Inga hard, long, and deep, cumming in her with a loud, deep groan of satisfaction ... before slumping forward atop her ... then rising again to repeat himself. He would do this until Inga begged him to stop ... or he simply didn't have anything left in him...

And then he would simply slump forward atop his lover ... pulling Inga's arms in to her sides, elbows bent ... intertwining his fingers with hers ... clutching her as tightly as he could as he pressed his lips to her neck ... her shoulders ... her cheek...

Before finally whispering to her, "What's you answer ... Inga Murtorovanni?"

The cry of absolute delight that came from Inga's lips as Jason fingered her to orgasm was loud enough to wake the dead. She was trapped beneath him, his fingers merciless against her heated skin as he humped his thick cock against her body. Kissing her senseless, Inga felt herself explode on those clever fingers, wetting them with her juices before he began to fuck her in earnest just as she had requested.

He pawed at her breasts, squeezing them between his fingers until she saw stars. The table beneath her creaked loudly, protesting his solid and punishing strokes. It was if she had unleashed an animal from within Jason and he was taking great joy in sharing that with her.

She would have been lying if she said she hadn't thought about pregnancy with him. He had fucked her well in the days that she had known him, but she had ways of preventing a little one from coming. While she loved children and one day wanted her own, she knew it was hard to care for one on the road without a partner there to help. She had seen many women end up in a bad situation when an unexpected child had entered their lives.

However, it seemed that her request for a full belly had sparked something within in the farmer. Maybe the image of her with a rounded stomach, heavy breasts, and full hips enticed him. It was something they would have to discuss as time went on.

It was by her fourth orgasm that she begged him to stop, her skin covered in sweat and his seed from two orgasms of his own dripping down her thighs. She was an absolute mess, but Jason sweetly kissed his way around the skin of her back, his fingers twining with her own as he asked her for her response to his earlier question.

"We would have to ask my Papa, being my oldest male relation. And we would have to be prepared to pay the sum that he requests." Inga murmured, her cheek resting against the wooden table top as he gaze found Jason's. "Until then, I'm happy to stay right here beside you for as long as I am able."

She kissed him as his lips came close enough, a soft whimper leaving her throat as she felt his cock stiffen again at the contact between the two. She pulled away from him enough to turn and sink to her knees in front of him, one hand resting against his hip and the other guiding that beautifully thick cock to her lips. Her dark gaze flicked up towards his own as she suckled him to the root, pleasing him one last time there in the kitchen before they were forced to move on to other things.


Grace slept for a long while, waking to a pounding headache from her crying earlier. Her eyes felt swollen, gritty from her tears, but her mind was clear. Glancing to the side, she saw Gregor sound asleep next to her, his head on the mattress by her side and body on the floor of the vardo. It was strange, she thought to herself, but she said nothing as she silently slipped from the bed.

When she opened the front door of the wagon, she spotted one of the little girls that had torn up her garden sitting there, two freshly baked rolls in her lap. The little one seemed to be waiting for someone and as Grace appeared, she turned and looked at her with a broad smile and offered her one of the baked goods.

"You keep it for yourself, sweetheart." Grace said softly as she took a seat next to the little girl and gently declined the roll. "I'm not terribly hungry."

Sitting on the wagon, Grace's bare feet swung in the empty space, glancing around at the activity that was going on around them. People were preparing for that evening, getting things baked and other things sewn. She had never seen so much activity in such a small space before, but she found it lovely that everyone seemed to want to pitch in and help.

In the time that she spent next to the little girl, she practically learned everyone's name. The little girl, Stella, chatted with her about every little thing, stopping only twice to eat one of her rolls and to chase down Harold when he passed by. She found it hard to keep everyone's relationships straight. Stella called Harold uncle, but she had no idea if Harold really were her uncle. Harold seemed to have no hesitation about giving Stella a sweet from his pocket, sending the small girl back to Grace's side.

Gregor awoke from yet another wonderful dream in which Grace played a role only to find her no longer in the bed before him. He had slipped a bit away from the bed -- which explained how she got away without his noticing -- with a pillow between his head and the wall. He chuckled at Grace's attempt to make him more comfortable ... and at the tingling sleeping leg that caused him to grimace and groan while preventing him from getting to his feet right away.

He opened the door to find a sight he hadn't expected: Grace surrounded by most of the Romani children who could both walk and count their ages on one hand. Gregor watched the scene for a long moment, smiling with delight. What had started as a conversation with Stella had become fun and play with more than two dozen boy and girls.

Gregor's impression was simple: that Grace must obviously love children. He didn't entirely know of let alone understand the woman's relationship with the children of her own family prior to her wedding to Jake, obviously. Had Gregor known how anxious Grace had been to get away from the younger siblings who had dominated her life and, essentially, stolen her own childhood, he would have been even more amazed with how she was getting on with the Romani children.

Grace eventually caught sight of Gregor, and as he gave her a little wave of acknowledgment, he descended the steps to near her. When he was close and also surrounded by the gypsy children, he repeated a commonly spoken joke in such situations, telling Grace, "You might want to check your fingers for your rings and your wrists for your bracelets. They may look like kids, but they are still gypsies, so..."

He laughed at his self deprecating comment, then playfully toppled over as a pair, then a quartet of children collided with him trying -- and succeeding -- in taking him to the ground.




Jason held Inga tight below him, using his elbows on the table to keep his twice-her-weight mass from crushing her. She answered his question about staying with him after the Romani had departed by explaining how they would have to compensate Papa Don, the treasury, and the Family as a whole for her lost income.

Some people -- non-Romani people -- might have thought it an unusual and maybe even illegal thought to prevent a woman from choosing her own destiny without paying for her release. It had a bit of a slavery element to it, Jason initially thought. But later, when his mind was a bit clearer -- and his cock wasn't deep inside the women he would be buying from the Romani, in a manner of speaking -- he would compare Inga's situation to that of his and his brother's.

Jake had gone off to university and law school to pursue his current career, as well as possibly higher office, while Jason had remained home to work the farm. The vast majority of Jake's education expenses had been paid from the profits of the farm and the savings their parents had set aside over more than two decades of marriage. Because of this, Jason had essentially inherited all of the real property his parents had left upon their deaths.

Jake had bought his escape from the farm by paying Jason with his half of the estate, just as Inga would buy her escape from the Family with ... well, that was still yet to be determined, wasn't it. Jason had no idea what Papa Don would want for his granddaughter's freedom. It certainly wasn't going to be a goose, two chickens, and a half dozen wheel barrow loads of firewood.

Below him, Inga indicated she wanted up. Jason raised away from her and -- reluctantly -- withdrew his still semi-hard cock from her. She turned to face him, which wasn't unexpected ... but then she dropped to her knees and quickly took his cock -- glistening in a combination of their combined fluids -- into her mouth, quickly moving her head back and forth and causing Jason to moan with immediacy.

"No," he whispered suddenly, leaning forward and reaching his hands down to under Inga's arms to lift her up to her feet with ease. He looked down into her eyes and -- still panting a bit -- expanded, "No, Inga. I ... Please, don't do that."

Jason pulled her tight to his body, holding her for a moment as he wondered whether or not he should explain his reason for not wanting her to perform orally on him. Greta -- or had it been Gerta? he wondered yet again -- had been the first and only woman to go down on Jason. And try as he might not to do so, his first thought when Inga began doing the same was about the Romani prostitute who had been sent to home to pay rent on the camp's presence in his field.

Jason didn't want thoughts of the sex provider being confused with his thoughts of Inga. Oh, there would probably be a time when Jason could enjoy fellatio from the woman in his arms now. But ... not yet.

He decided not to explain, instead suddenly sweeping Inga up into his arms and telling her, "I need to bath and get some work done ... and I need someone to wash my back. Whatcha thing about that?"

Jason hauled her off to the bathroom with the sole intent of filling the tub and washing away the sweat and other bodily fluids. But not surprisingly, they end up making love there once more, their actions in the filled tub sending waves of water over the claw foot tub's sides to puddle all about the tile.

"I want to talk to Papa Don right away," Jason told Inga with a soft voice while he ran a towel over her body. He turned her to face him, continuing to dry her with a little more intimate touch by his free hand than was necessary. He asked with a sincere tone of needed approval, "Is that okay with you?"

"They've behaved themselves so far." Grace said as Gregor appeared at the entrance to the vardo, watching her with the young children that had seemingly come out of nowhere.

Stella had taken charge of the children, no matter if they were older than her or not. She had herded them into their groups, keeping them from overwhelming Grace too much as they ran around and played. The little girl had taken a great shine to Miss Gracie as she called her.

Grace glanced over as Gregor was taken down by a group of them, the children crawling on him with a familiarity that made her smile. She had always thought about taking her youngest siblings off the farm, had even discussed it with Jake a time or two, but he had always told her no. They weren't ready for a child in the house and she had the sneaking suspicion that Jake would only allow HIS children to live with them.


"Jason, if you wish to go talk to Papa about this, I won't stop you." Inga said softly as he worked to dutifully dry her off, using soft touches of his hands as he worked hard to make sure that she knew how special she was to him. "I just think that he'll send you back home with your tail between your legs before you know it."

Inga wrapped her arms around Jason's neck and pulled him in tightly, hugging him. There was nothing sexual about this hug. She simply wanted to express her love to him after the incredible intimate moments that they had just shared together. She was a little angry that he hadn't allowed her to finish his cock in the kitchen, but he had made love to her in the bathtub until she was a shaking mess. There were many things that she wanted to teach him, including how to please a woman with his mouth. Of course, if they were building a future together with one another, there was no hurry with any of that.

As the mayhem of the dog pile upon him continued, Gregor entertained the children with alternating fierce roars of terror and meek whines of submission. He was genuinely having fun. They had tackled him in the past, mostly when he had just returned from a town and likely had candy in his pockets or satchel. But peeking up to find Grace looking down upon them with a smile and thoughtful eyes made the fun more fun. A thought came to him, and he finally surrendered to the children, promising them all a coin if they didn't rip his arms and legs off.

He stood and -- not finding enough for all -- shooed them away with a promise of candy later. Moving to Grace, Gregor gently took her by the elbow and turned her in a direction she might recognize, that of the creek beyond the encircled vardo.

"Why have you not had children?" he asked bluntly.

"Jason, if you wish to go talk to Papa about this, I won't stop you ... I just think that he'll send you back home with your tail between your legs before you know it."

Click to expand...

Jason contemplated Inga's response as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in tightly. He reciprocated, grasping her young, firm buttocks and pulling her in and up until he was on her tippy toes in the puddle their love making had caused. Their kiss was soft, loving, with a great deal of intimacy and only a touch of eroticism. It made him hard again nevertheless.

"If we don't get away from one another right now," Jason said laughing and pulling away. He looked down conspicuously at the erection hanging out before him in near total stiffness and laughed yet again. He gestured Inga toward the bathroom door, telling her with a smile, "Go find your clothes before I take you down in this puddle and ... well..."

Dressed in a clean and relatively nice set of clothes -- not his work day duds but not his Sunday best -- Jason headed to the camp and found the elderly Papa Don sitting with the ancient Connie in the shade of the latter's vardo. As he stepped up close to the pair, Jason suddenly realized that his hands were trembling.

He feared that he was going to piss his pants! After having known her for just days, Jason was essentially asking Inga for her hand in marriage. Or sure, they hadn't spoken the "M" word, but ... it was marriage! He had absolutely no idea how to do this. He thought back to what his brother had told him about asking Walter Evans for his daughter Grace's hand, then very quickly dismissed any thought of that. Jason wasn't his brother, Inga wasn't Grace, and their relationships weren't similar in anyway whatsoever.

She's a gypsy, Jason thought to himself. It wasn't thought in the way most people thought of the Romani: dirty thieving whores! It was thought in the we have nothing in common except that we love each other ... and like to fuck. That word came back to Jason suddenly: love. He did love her. He knew that. One day, two days, ten, a hundred: no matter how long he'd been near her, Jason knew that he would have eventually fallen in love with her.

"Papa Don," Jason started with a tentative tone, pausing to look between the men and to his hands, which he finally pressed to his sides in an attempt to hide the shaking. He looked to the Patriarch quickly with wider eyes and asked, "Do I call you Papa Don?"

The not-quite-oldest Romani asked with a slight smirk, "That depends, young man, on what you are wanting to discuss with me."

Jason's continuing nervousness was obvious. He had a suspicion that Papa Don very well knew why he was here. Did he not notice that Inga had been absent for a full day? She hadn't been working her Seer's tent last night. She hadn't been working anything last night ... except Jason's cock. Oh, good one, he thought as he felt his penis come alive with a bit of a twitch. He willed it to stay down and managed to do so only by looking back to the two elderly men and reminding himself of why he was here.

"It's about Inga," Jason began, adding for some reason, "Inga Murtorovanni."

"I know who Inga is," Papa Don said, smiling. The older Romani reached a hand that trembled for other reasons over to tap his younger relative on the arm, chuckling in his old man ways. Papa Don continued, "I suspect that you have developed a fondness for my granddaughter, yes?"

Jason's gaze dropped for a moment to the ground before he nodded with a quickly bobbing head. He suddenly felt like a child being chastised for throwing the water bucket down the well without the rope still attached, something Jason had in fact down as a 7 year old back when the farm's well was still an open column in the ground out back of the house. He forced himself to look back up to Inga's relative.

"And you are here to ask me a question about her," he continued, trying his hardest not to smile and confirm to the farmer that he was enjoying torturing the man. "A question about her future."

Jason's eyes performed the same diversion; his head performed the same bobbing.

"Then..." Papa Don started, hesitating for a moment to meet his elder friend's eyes for a moment before looking back to Jason and finishing, "...I think that perhaps ... it would be best ... if you addressed me a bit more formally, yes?"

Jason looked up again, suddenly feeling a spark of hope. Papa Don had to know what Jason was going to ask, and he hadn't simply waved him off, telling him to leave the circled wagons. Jason smiled wider and was about to continue when a thought hit him.

"I'm ... I'm sorry, sir ... but," he stumbled, "But I don't know what your surname is."

To his horror, Papa Don and Connie simply stared at him with blank expressions. After a moment, Jason realized that there was no way in hell Papa Don was giving him the information he needed. He held an extended finger up before him and begged, "Gimme a moment."

Jason turned and sprinted for his house, bounding up the stairs in two steps and bursting through the door. "INGA! INGA-A-A!"

He ran from room to room searching, but the woman of his dreams was no where to be found. Jason headed out again, first to the front porch, then to the barn. He headed back toward the camp, asking every Romani he came across if they knew where he might find Inga Murtorovanni. Some shook their heads; others pointed to places he'd already been; still said to check the camp or her vardo specifically; one cheeky teen even said, "Probably in our patron's bed. I think she's been..."

But Jason was already off before the young man finished. Gregor will know, he told himself. But after repeating his inquiries to the others about the fighter's whereabouts, he got even less helpful responses from the Romani who thought they were protecting their relative from the Local who by now was beginning to look frazzled.

"Do you know what Papa Don's surname is?" he asked a passing woman. She only stared. He went to a woman weaving a colorful rug. "Papa Don ... can you tell me his full name? It's important."

Despite not needing to do so, the Romani were doing what they always did in such situations when a Local was inquiring about such things: they shut up and gave up nothing.

Then...

"Donielle Petrescu."

Jason spun to find Marla sitting in essentially the same, stunning, flirtatious, erotic way she had been just before he'd spent and evening fucking her right there in her vardo. His stomach turned over anxiously: the last time the two of them had talked had been right after he'd fallen instantly in lust with Inga. Marla had offered him that delicious body of hers, and Jason had turned her down, albeit as politely as he could.

"Papa Don," she continuing, explaining with a bit more accent than usual, "His full name is Donielle Petrescu."

Jason smiled, pleased. He took a step closer, thanking Marla. As they stared at each other a moment longer, he pointed out, "No one would tell me. Why ... why are you helping me, Marla. After..."

"You are going to ask to keep Inga," she said with a matter of fact tone.

"Well, I ... I don't know about keep!" Jason responded. She made it sound as though Jason had found a lost puppy. "I ... I just--"

"You love her," Marla continued with that same knowing tone.

Jason looked into the Romani woman's eyes, wondering what was going on in the brain right behind them. Was she happy for Inga? Jealous of her? Apathetic? He smiled and, with all sincerity, answered, "Yes. I love her."

"We all do," Marla said without hesitation. She repeated, "We all do."

She left the stoop of her vardo and crossed to Jason, coming right up against his body to press her lips to his. It wasn't an erotic kiss. It was ... well ... he wasn't really sure. Later it would remind him of his last lover, when he'd spoken to her of becoming a bit more serious and she had instead kissed him just like Marla had now, then told him she simply wasn't interested.

"Donielle Petrescu," Marla told him again, pulling back, taking Jason's arm at the elbow, and turning him back toward Inga and Papa Don's vardo. "Say it ... Don-I-elle Pe-tres-cu."

"Donielle Petrescu," Jason said, repeating with Marla several times as they walked, Donielle Petrescu."

"Constantin Vidraru," Marla told him, explaining that that was Connie's full name and he better learn it as well. They practiced it as well, and suddenly there they were, back before the two men who hadn't budged an inch during Jason's nearly half hour long quest for answers. Marla released her hold of Jason's elbow and told the men with a respectful tone, "Our patrol Jason Townsend would like a word with you, Papa Don ... Connie."

She stepped back, looking to the suddenly bashful again farmer with a smile and a wink before turning and walking away. Jason watched her for a moment, then called out, "Marla!"

When she turned, walking backwards as she listened, Jason said with a sincere tone, "You're a good person, Marla. A ... a good woman. A good friend!"

She smiled, blew him a kiss, and turned away. Jason didn't immediately look back to the two old Romani before him but when he did, their gazes were firmly upon him. He dropped his eyes ... cleared his throat ... then drew, held, and released a deep breath. He looked up to Papa Don again and was just opening his mouth to speak...

When the two men erupted in laughter. Jason's eyes opened wide in stunned disbelief. What ... the ... fuck...? Then it dawned on him. He looked to the ground again, then laughed as well. When the laughter began dying down, he looked to the men and said knowingly, "You were fucking with me."

They laughed again, long and loud. When the pair of Romani finally settled down, Papa Don asked with a smile yet also a serious tone, "You are wishing to join our family and go on the road with us ... become a gypsy, yes?"

"No!" Jason said quickly. He realized immediately how bad his answer had sounded, and he quickly clarified, "I mean ... no I-- I mean ... there's nothing wrong with being a gypsy-- with being a Romani. But no, I don't want to leave my--"

"You wish for my granddaughter to remain here with you," Papa Don cut in, adding, "You wish for Inga to remain here ... after her Family ... the only family she has ever known ... leaves your home ... to return to the road and our way of life ... her way of life."

Jason's eyes dropped to the ground between him and Papa Don again. Put in the way the old Romani put it, it did sound pretty bad. Jason remembered what Inga had told him and murmured, "Tail between my legs..."

"What is that you say?" Connie asked, craning to hear and cupping a hand at his ear.

"Nothing ... nothing, sir, I mean," Jason responded. He worked his way through his throat clearing and deep breathing again, then looked up to Inga's grandfather again. "Donielle Petrescu ... Papa Don ... I ... I believe that I am in love with your grand--"

"Believe...?" the Romani interrupted with a cocked head.

Jason hesitated. His hands were trembling once again. Throat cleared; air inhaled, exhaled; eyes up. "I am in love with your granddaughter, Inga Murtorovanni ... and ... I would--"

He hesitated again, drawing a quick anxious breath. He chuckled, soft and quick, at the disbelief that he was doing this. Then ... all of a sudden ... Jason recalled --with an attempt to ignore that he had been balls deep in her at the time -- that moment in the kitchen when he's asked Inga to stay with him and her reaction hadn't been to question the idea but to speak to Jason about what such a decision would entail.

Inga wanted this as much as he did. Didn't she? Jason was sure she did. And if she wanted it ... and he wanted it ... then they were going to have it. He looked to Papa Don and told him without hesitation, "Donielle Petrescu, I seek you permission ... no, your blessing ... in marrying your granddaughter, Inga Murtorovanni."

Jason took another deep breath, this one of combined relief and surprise. He hadn't simply asked Papa Don to allow Inga to remain behind. He'd asked for Inga's hand in marriage! Jason thought for a moment, Shit! We didn't discuss that! What was Inga going to think when she heard about this?

There had been a time a few days before that Grace would have been nervous to be alone with Gregor. Now, as he took her elbow to guide her towards the direction of the stream, she felt comfortable. He wasn't the frightening being that she had once thought him to be.

The children scurried off to other parts of the camp, leaving them to their own devices. It was quiet as they walked, his hand still gently on her arm. Then he dropped a bombshell, asking why she hadn't had children. Grace glanced towards him quickly, a little shocked at the suggestion. She was in her early twenties, a newly wed, and had a husband with a very healthy libido. Many women in her shoes probably would have been extremely swollen with a child by this point in their marriage.

"I don't know." Grace said in an honest tone, glancing up at Gregor's warm gaze. "I'm not sure that Jake wants children right now. He's never been much interested in babies or toddlers. We also haven't been married all that long. I guess it's only a matter of time before it happens."

"Jake has dreams. He wants to move to Washington, to enter politics if possible. I'm not sure that we're long to live in this area." Not a single mention of her dreams, it was all about Jake and his wants. "I know you've only seen the bad in him, but I promise he has it in him to be kind. I hope that he sees it very soon."

It was a lot of excuses. Gregor could probably see through everything that she said, but Grace did want to make her marriage work. She had been raised to find someone that would work just as hard as she did. She also had nowhere else to go if her marriage failed. Jake provided her everything. Her father would have sent her back in an instant, her brother, Junior, escorting her back home if she had shown up on their doorstep.

"My dad got remarried about six months after my mother died. My stepmother is a kind person, but he has kept her pregnant as often as he can. I spent more time helping to raise my siblings than I think she has. I can't blame her, really. She was desperate for an escape from her own home and she has worked hard to keep him happy. I guess, in a way, I'm not in too much of a hurry to have my own family because of that." Grace blurted out, giving him a tiny little view into how her life had worked up until then.

Walter had married Angela when she was barely 18. Junior had come along ten months after the wedding, making Grace a sister at the age of 4. Benny, Carl, Albert, Sarah, and little Maudie had rounded out their family, with another now on the way. Angela often was overwhelmed and ill, leaving Grace to do her best for all of them. She even remembered on her wedding day when Maudie had touched Grace's pristine, white gown before the ceremony with her dirty fingers, smudging some of the beadwork that Jake had spent a fortune on. Walter had threatened to beat the three year old, only stopping when Grace had scooped up the screaming child and soothed her tears, promising that everything would be alright. Jake had never known and Grace had promised Maudie that she would keep her secret.

"I begged Jake for a while to let me bring Sarah and Maudie to our home. He never liked the idea." Grace murmured, lending credibility to her thoughts that Jake wanted nothing to do with children for the time being.


Inga had slipped back to her vardo, packing up a few more of her things. She had missed Jason's frantic search around the camp, but she heard murmurs from outside that told her that the man was actually crazy enough to go and ask her grandfather for her to stay there on his farm. She knew that her grandfather and uncle Connie would put him through the wringer.

She left her belongings behind, hurrying to find them before things got too out of control. Coming upon the scene, she paused when she heard Jason ask for her hand in marriage. While they hadn't specifically spoken about marriage, the thought of marrying Jason was definitely welcome. He provided stability, love, and, of course, a very healthy sex life that she had never enjoyed with anyone else.

Her Papa and Connie exchanged glances, scheming between them silently in a way that they had practiced over the years. She knew that they would ask a lot from Jason and she wasn't willing to let him go broke for her.

"Papa." Inga called, stepping into the shade beside the three. "Uncle."

She glanced towards Jason, giving him a slight smile and a nod. "Give us a moment, Jason."

She waited until Jason retreated from the circle, leaving her alone with her two elders. Glancing at the two of them, she placed her hands on her hips and let out a long sigh.

"I have payment if that is what you will demand. I refuse to let him go into debt to pay for my share of the family." Inga said, stopping her Papa from saying anything just yet. "And I understand that this is sudden, that it's unusual for a Romani to want to settle down, but he does make me happy. Perhaps more happy than I've been in a long time."

Inga had been born in a vardo, raised in a vardo, would have gladly died in a vardo. Her Papa had stepped in and raised her the best he could when his beloved daughter had died in an accident and Inga's father had run off with another lover. Her Papa and her had always had a good relationship, able to talk about anything under the sun. However, Inga had always wondered what more might be out there for her.

She wasn't interested in joining another family. She had talked about it with her grandfather a few times in the past and he had never pressed her to find a man. He seemed content to let her live her life how she saw fit, doting on her when he could.

Now she was asking the impossible of him. She wanted to give up the vardo. She wanted to set down roots. Never had she ever mentioned anything of the sort of him and she was sure that this would be shocking to say the least.