Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves(67)

“Why, thank ye, Miriam.” Although she could not imagine an occasion she could wear anything so grand.

“It pairs nicely with your pearl earring. Interesting, you wear only one.”

“I need only one.” She smiled and tucked the string of pearls into her apron pocket.

Miriam made no comment on Romy’s enigmatic response, saying instead, “You know, Romy, much to my astonishment, your card reading proved to be rather accurate.”

“Oh, how is that?”

“Remember, you told me that I would be given a second chance financially? Well, the Dean at UT kept bypassing me to give better positions, and pay, to the men. Fed up, I handed him my resignation – worrying all the while how long it would be until I could secure another job – when Gideon told me about a Department of State position, heading up the board that oversees foreign Diplomats in Residence at UT. Not only am I out from under the Dean but the position pays far better.”

“That is bloody swell,” she said, mounding a crockery serving platter with her scones. She marveled at the power of suggestion and was amazed that people took stock in card reading and crystal balls and tea leaves and séances.

But then how was it that the King of Diamonds, the Queen of Clubs, and the King of Clubs showed up consistently in her cards?

And how was it she noted in Duke’s broad palm a headline so strong and well defined that it brooked no interference in his heart’s matters, and a heartline that indicated a knight who would slay dragons for his fair maiden?

Not that she believed in palmistry, either.

“Did you see it – a happy ever after – in the cards for me and Gideon?” Miriam was watching her sidewise. “Honestly, Romy?”

What to say? She paid inordinate attention to slicing the chilled vegetables onto another plate – carrots, radishes, celery and cauliflower. Marrying Miriam would be a step up for the enterprising Gideon. The Jewess was ambitious, attractive, and motivated. The couple united . . . well, there would be no end to the heights they could climb.

She countered with a question. “Is that what you want – to marry Gideon?”

The ice cubes halted their clinking into the ceramic bowl. At the unsettling silence, Romy turned fully to look at the young woman. Her gaze was bleak. “We Jews use a shadchanit to obtain the best advantage from among marriage prospects.”

“A marriage maker?”

“Yes. But I do not want to be merely an advantage for Gideon.”

Romy’s mouth skewed. It was better than being a disadvantage for someone; someone like Duke, for whom her wild, restless ways opposed his desire for an orderly, settled lifestyle.

Just the image of him outside with the men, pitching horseshoes, juddered her heart. And that was only an image. The real thing, when she was in the same room with him, made her go weak at the knees, her lungs falter, and her brain malfunction.

However, she would get over Duke, just as she got over all her other stumbling stones in the road.

Nevertheless, sitting at the picnic table next to Johnson half an hour later– and across from Duke – she wondered how on God’s green earth she would find it in herself to return to the road. She was helplessly caught in the undertow of his voice, as he, Sally and her father discussed stock breeding.

Her gaze roamed the gathering of the Fourth’s revelers. Skinny Henry, chomping a tomato like it was a candied apple; Micah, who was actually talking face to face with one of Johnson’s male staffers while swigging beer; Glen and Graciela, sitting on a blanket, close enough to exchange a kiss, if they dared. And Gideon and Miriam, backed against a live oak, who did dare. Mayhap, there was hope for those two.

Not likely though for Sally and Arturo. He was finishing off a corncob dripping butter, while casting a longing, coal-hot gaze at the horsewoman. Romy doubted Sally would have the courage to buck her father openly, and could only hope her intuition was wrong.

These people had become like a clan to her and leaving was going to be harder than she would have imagined.

Twilight was settling into night, and fireflies were darting around the partiers. “Going to replenish my plate,” Sally said, rising.

The men were busy talking and paid no attention, but Romy watched with envy of Sally’s long, Levi’s-encased legs, as the horsewoman strode across the yard, past the collection of parked pickups and cars, toward the kitchen’s back door . . . and then watched as Arturo ground out with his boot a just-lit cigarette and stalked in the same direction as Sally.

Meanwhile, beneath the table, Johnson splayed a large hand atop Romy’s thigh, distracting her. “Hey, lil’ darlin’, what’s say you entertain us with some guitar music.” It was not a request but an order.

There was no way Duke could have seen Johnson’s hand; nevertheless, Duke stood with a dragon’s fire-breathing look and, taking her hand, drew her to her feet. “That’s not going to happen, Congressman.”

Johnson scowled. His eyes squinted; his lips compressed.

Warding off the looming showdown, she said, “I’d be delighted to enter – ”

“No,” Duke said in a tone that brooked no interference. “Right now, Johnson, I’ve got a send-off for Romy.”

Gratefully, she pressed against his side. Mayhap, she was wrong. Mayhap, the cards and the stars held promise for them. “A send-off?”