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

that day—why, I’ve played that over in my head a thousand times—I saw you duck down in the backseat. I could just feel it in my chest that you weren’t coming back. I really liked you. You knew that, right?”

Gina finished her bite. “What happened to Treia?”

“I kept him.”

“You did? Is he still alive?”

“That was ten years ago,” he said. “If I’m not mistaken, he was with me for a total of four. It made me think of you every day. At least he died peacefully. I woke up one morning, and he just never responded. He was gone.”

“I loved that dog. Thank you, Teo.”

“What else was I supposed to do? He would’ve ended up roaming Cuvin with those wild packs, and I’m not sure how long he would’ve made it on only three legs.”

“He would’ve made it.”

“Yeah,” Teo agreed. “I moved to Arad soon after. It’s nice here, especially in the summers. We’ll have to stay in touch, don’t you think? We can go to the lake, explore the Cetatea—a very interesting place. Maybe take some hikes or whatnot.”

“Maybe. It’s hard to say. I’m still adjusting to the center’s demands.”

“Tell me this. If you could have three wishes, what would they be?”

“Teo.” She jabbed a finger at his arm. “I’m not one to kiss and tell.”

“You remember that? I was wondering. It was my first real kiss, you know?”

“Pretty obvious, actually. Mine too.”

They laughed and looked in opposite directions.

Gina’s gloves fumbled with the wrapping around the langosi, and she said, “To hear the national anthem. That would be right up there.”

“One of your wishes?”

“I couldn’t believe that was happening, and in downtown Arad.”

“It was definitely moving to hear those kids sing it. You missed the revolution, didn’t you? Well, we admire our martyrs of 1989. They bought back our souls with their blood, you might say. Forget about those hooligans who tried to disrupt things at city hall today.”

“It happens. Thanks for speaking up.”

“I would’ve spoken sooner if I’d known you were standing there.”

“That would’ve been my second wish,” Gina said. “Running into you again.”

“Really? And that was number one on my list.” He gestured to a park bench facing the Mures River, and they sat. “What about the third wish?”

“Don’t know. I’ll have to think it over.”

She did know, though. Her unspoken desire was that one day she could enjoy a relationship built on unconditional acceptance. Not on her looks, or on any baggage from her past, or even on physical chemistry. Something deeper. Something more.

“Here,” Teo said. “Let me get that for you.”

He took her trash, balled it up, and made an arching shot that bounded off the rim of a metal receptacle. He was standing to retrieve the errant throw when a shape appeared from the huddle of foliage near the riverbank.

She saw the boy before Teo did. “Hello,” she said.

If Gina could’ve compared her life to a thick novel, she would’ve pointed out that the most pivotal moments came in bunches—sharp peaks in the pace of the story. Of course, whole chapters had been torn from the spine of her biography, so she knew her perceptions could be flawed.

This did not negate, however, her ability to hone in on the details of a given moment. And this was one such moment.

The child was malnourished, eyes dulled by hunger and earlobes bluish white. He was the same size, maybe a year or two older, than most of the boys in the center. He had a small, dirty pack over his shoulder, and he wore a pair of shoes that were too large for his small frame and showed a smear of red around the canvas toe of the left one.

He stared down at the ground. Was he deaf ?

It wasn’t uncommon. Street urchins were a regular sight around the city, often sent out by poverty-stricken parents to rummage for change and old bread. Citizens were approached at outdoor eateries or at traffic intersections. This nuisance had overwhelmed and tired most people, who had their own daily concerns.

“Hello?” Gina ventured a hand wave this time.

The boy eyed her from beneath tangled hair.

Her motherly instinct said to rush to him, while her intellect cautioned otherwise. She’d seen the same sort in the orphanage, those with the mentality of cornered animals. They would react to an advance by: (a) fleeing for their lives, or (b) attacking first to fend off a perceived threat.

“Money?” he said at last, his hand outstretched. “Food?”

“We can get you something to eat,” Gina said to the youngster.

“Money.”

“We don’t hand out cash, but how about a meal?” Teo said. “Come along.”

The boy stood motionless. He looked from Teo to Gina, his wariness wrestling with his need. An icy gust rolled up from the river, combed over the foliage, and tousled his dark mop of hair.

Gina gasped at what she saw.

The boy’s eyes darted to her, and he tensed. Ready to escape.

She inhaled, then let out a breath. She imagined warm calm melting down into her limbs, radiating across this patch of dead grass between them. She could not frighten this child away. Not now.

She looked to Teo, nodded toward the path, and said, “C’mon. He wants to be left alone.”

Teo’s brow furrowed, but he fell in step beside her on the trail.

“Money, food. Money, food.”

“Keep walking,” Gina whispered.

“Food.” A tug on her coat. “Food.” A tap on her back.

“I should be getting back to the orphanage,” Gina said. “It’s been great seeing you again, Teo.”

Another tug. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave.”

In an unhurried motion, Gina turned and kneeled. She looked into brown eyes locked between thick lashes. She lifted a hand, and the boy pulled back for a moment, gripping his pack in a grubby hand. She waited for him to extend his trust, then brushed back the bangs that hung in his face. Her gaze panned the letter Tav on his forehead, trying to fathom what this meant for him, for her, and for the story that threaded through the thick, yet torn, volume