Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
She closes the door behind me and I reach into my back pocket and pull out a ten dollar bill. When I hand it to her, she nods and carelessly puts it on the counter. She switches on the kettle and asks me to take a seat.
I pull out one of the chairs and sit down. She opens the ceramic container and pours loose tea into one of the teacups. When the kettle begins to whistle, she pours the boiling water into the teacup, and brings the cup to me. She puts it in front of me and goes to sit opposite me.
“When it cools, drink it,” she says.
I look down at the cup of tea, and to my surprise find there is a lot happening inside the cup. I watch the brown essence from the tea leaves start to stain the water. The clouds of brown fascinate me. I could have stared at the process for hours and maybe I do. It’s strange, but it’s as if I’ve been hypnotized by the movements in the teacup.
“You can drink it now,” she murmurs softly.
I drink the bitter brew and put the cup back on the saucer. She takes the cup and looks into it. For a while she says nothing as she studies the patterns the tea leaves make, then she raises her head and looks directly into my eyes.
I am surprised by how bright her eyes are. They shine like stars in her wrinkled old face.
“You have come about a man. You have come to ask if you can trust him?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“First I must tell you there is danger. Danger lurks around you.” She looks away from me. “And there is loss. Terrible loss for you.”
My stomach clenches with dread. “What do you mean?”
“I cannot say more than that. All I can see is the loss of something very important to you.”
“You mean him?” I ask anxiously.
“No, not him. Something else.”
“Can I trust him?”
“Yes, you can trust him, but he is also in danger. Secrets. Many terrible secrets.” She gazes at the tea leaves, then frowns. “His family. They want something from you.”
“What?” I cry. “What do they want?”
She shakes her head. “Stay away from them. They mean you harm.”
She puts the cup down. “Show me your hand.”
I put out my right hand and she takes it in hers and looks at it. Then she uses her other hand to stroke my palm gently, as if she is so starved of human contact that she needs to touch another human being. My chest fills with pity for the lonely old woman, and I push to the back of my mind all the dire predictions and warnings she has made. I reach out my other hand and grasp her hand tightly. She looks up and I see her eyes are filled with tears.
“In five minutes, it will be my birthday,” she says, and her voice breaks.
“Really?”
She nods sadly, and extricates her hand from mine.
“Hang on. Just wait for me. I’ll only be five minutes,” I say and jump to my feet. I run back to my caravan. I bought a little congratulatory cake for Sam. It came with those joke candles that never go off so I quickly light the candles on it, and carefully carry it back to the gypsy’s caravan. I push open the door and shout, “Happy Birthday.”
As long as I live I will never forget that sweet and innocent time I spend with her. How I sing to her and how she beams at me. She has never seen a candle that splutters back to life before and she cackles with delight and surprise. I cut the small cake and she finds two small plates in one of the kitchen cupboards. I find out her name is Zelena.
“I should go,” I say, licking a bit of icing from my fingers.
“Wait. I have something for you.”
I watch in surprise as she gets up and pulls a battered black suitcase from under the bed. From it she extracts a small jeweled box. I can tell just by looking at it that it is terribly ancient. She puts the box on the table in front of me.
I open the box and find a lovely locket shaped in a strange symbol. It seems to be made of precious stones. A round ruby, and around it a mix of white and purple stones, but the craftsmanship is of a particularly excellent quality, and it is clearly very valuable. In fact, it looks like something that should be under glass in a museum.
“I can’t take this,” I gasp, but when I look up at her, I see her silently taking off a thin gold chain from around her neck.
“I have no need for it. It is an amulet,” she explains. “For protection.”