Field of Blood by Wilson, Eric (dar e dil novel online reading .TXT) 📗

hesitation in Gina’s response to the orphan boy. She loved the charm of the old buildings that lined Arad’s Revolutiei Avenue, and the broad, gardened approach to city hall. Street and business names evoked nostalgia in her. Even walking into her new banking establishment, Banca Transilvania, conjured images of her childhood.

At the moment, the Tomorrow’s Hope choir was lining up before city hall for a performance approved by the mayor. Public religious displays were frowned upon—in fact, many churches viewed Christmas as a pagan celebration—but this was a holiday leading into a new millennium, and some concessions could be made.

Gina quivered in the cold. The day was unseasonably warm for December, yet her blood had thinned after years in Tennessee’s temper-ate climate. Even with chattering teeth, she decided she liked the bracing slap of the breeze. It appealed to something deep in her—a call to stand against the elements, to bend but not break.

Conscious of dehydration, she took a sip from her bottle of Borsec mineral water. She had missed this too. It fizzed with unsweetened delight on her tongue.

“Este extem de frig,” Petre Podran said.

“Ahh, it’s not that cold,” Gina responded.

“You know, my brother thinks you’re pretty.”

“Really?”

“He says you might marry him one day.”

Gina chuckled and looked down into the ten-year-old’s round, black eyes. “I don’t think that will happen.”

“You love American men now? But Pavel is handsome, yes?”

“Stop it, Petre. I know what you’re up to, and you’re only saying this because you two are twins. I think maybe you’re the one with the crush.”

Petre changed the subject. “Why did you leave America?”

“Because my husband was gone, and I needed a boy like you to love.”

Petre beamed.

“As a little brother,” she qualified. “Or a nephew.”

Pleased to be loved on any terms, he bounced across the walkway, trampled a hedge, and weaseled in among the choir members.

Minutes later they broke into their first number, a statement of national allegiance sure to win over the passersby. The song had been banned in 1947, after the communists’ forced abdication of King Michael I. Gina had never heard it sung publicly in her homeland, and it caused a lump to rise in her throat:

Awake, you Romanian, from the sleep of death . . .

It’s either now or it never will be . . .

that you create for yourself another destiny . . .

It’s either life in freedom or it should be death.

When they were done, Gina tried to whistle without success—it was a skill Jed had never been able to teach her—and resorted instead to hearty applause with gloved hands. The children in the choir tried to hide their grins.

A destiny, Gina thought. That’s what she wanted more than anything. It’s what she hoped to give these boys and girls.

Much of Romania’s soul had been drained in the seventies and eighties. In the same way, many of these orphans had suffered health issues that put them into constant survival mode.

Hepatitis B and intestinal parasites were not uncommon. Thousands of kids across the country were HIV infected. The World Health Organization had stepped in recently to help, providing antiretroviral treatment, but many were already dead. Conditions were not always sanitary in the state-run facilities, and a simple sinus infection could rage into a life-threatening illness for those with weakened immune systems.

The public mind-set was also difficult to change. Many shunned and feared these stigmatized kids. Thus, as the orphan choir switched to the joyful sounds of a Christmas carol, Gina was not surprised to see a few hecklers in the crowd.

She was surprised, though, by the man who stepped up to confront them. He had a chiseled chin, eyes hard as flint, and a mouth that—

Tasted of grapes and blackberries? Of goat’s milk?

Was this her Teodor, from the village of Cuvin?

CHAPTER

FORTY-EIGHT

Teodor and Gina strolled along the Strand Neptun, an outdoor recreation area that usually catered to all ages. With winter upon them, the swim-ming and wading pools had been emptied, leaving only patches of ice that glinted in the afternoon sun. Lawns were forlorn, the trees naked and shivering. Clustered in the center area, restaurants tried to attract diners, while old men played remi at tables under Pepsi umbrellas.

“Langosi on me,” Teo said.

“You don’t have to do that. I have money.”

“I’ve been with the tourist bureau for three years, Gina, and I’m sure my job pays more than the orphanage. Please. For old times’ sake.” He stopped at a small hut, leaned his arms on the counter. “How do you like yours?”

“With dill and grated cheese,” she said.

“Coming right up.”

The orphanage choir, after a half hour of lukewarm response, had been ferried back to Tomorrow’s Hope, and Gina had been released for the evening. Later, she would take a tram, then connect on a bus to get back to her place—a one-bedroom flat in a complex adjacent to the center. Food and lodging were part of her salary, leaving her the equivalent of twenty-five dollars a week for personal luxuries.

“Multumesc,” she thanked Teo.

The smell of the fried flat bread tugged Gina back to cozy recollections. She felt awkward here, now, with her childhood beau. She was married—on paper, at least—and had no desire to betray Jed in any way. There was an ember of love still there. Nevertheless, her heart was in a tug-of-war between what was and what could’ve been.

Here on Romanian soil, she felt rooted in reality. Life in America, it seemed far away. Almost unreal.

Or maybe she just knew it was time to forge ahead. She couldn’t let the past bleed her dry.

With snacks in hand, Teo and Gina followed the meandering brick path around the curve of the park. He was tall and thin, his gait long and loping. He seemed at ease, and she hoped none of her anxiety showed. She tucked her free hand into her coat pocket and watched her breath turn to fog in the cold air.

“Do you know what happened to Treia?” he asked her.

“My dog?”

“When you drove off