Tempered by Love

Chapter 4 Secrets

Cojiňī Salazar stood in the doorway of her father's caravan watching half the younger men and boys in an impromptu football game. Their shouts had roused her from sleep, something she was desperate for after arriving in the middle of the night. For some reason, getting home in time for the trip across Europe to winter camp had been a nightmare. It was never easy making the trip south, but this year, with all the rumours of increased black market activity, it had been filled with every political road block possible. Grumbling, she fell out of bed, dressed and stepped out of the caravan to see her mother standing there with a mug of hot coffee and a plate filled with French Toast and sliced hard boil eggs.

"Eat, you are too skinny."

"I will have you know, I'm considered well rounded in the land of the gadje," Cojiňī said.

She took a swallow of the coffee. The first swallow always went down hard after months of drinking the weaker British version of coffee and tea. "I need to get the travel permits to Uncle," she said between bites of the toast and the last of the fruit preserves. She stuffed the last bit of fruit and thick bread in her mouth savouring the sweet taste. Her mother always kept the last jar for her homecoming breakfast. She flashed a warm smile at her mother, and then reached in the caravan for her satchel. She'd delayed her reason for coming home late long enough. Cojiňī stepped around the corner of the caravan, ducked under the bright green canopy and froze staring in disbelief at the tall stranger in the middle of boys and men she'd known all her life. He kicked the ball to a boy who did not belong to the family. In all of her thirty years of life, she couldn't ever remember a time when a gadje just sashayed into the middle of the family and played a pick-up game of football. "Mama?" she called as she watched him fumble a move much to the delight of the opposing team.

"Da," her mother answered.

Cojiňī stepped back to see her mother gathering up the dishes for washing. "Who's the gadje playing football?"

"I don't know his name, but Gildi dropped by while you were sleeping and said he is a friend of Tomašis and his people. He came into camp a while ago to talk to Uncle. I haven't paid attention beyond that. Your papa and your brothers are out there, so they will tell me what I need to know."

"Mama, you will not change," Cojiňī walked back and kissed her mother's leathery cheek.

"I have no need to change, you silly girl. Now, get the papers to Demetri, he'll be offended you are late."

"I'm going," Cojiňī said with a quiet chuckle. 

Thirty years old and her mother still treated her like a ten-year-old. She skirted the edge of the camp, avoiding the game on the way to Demetri Durriken's caravan. Maybe, by the time she reached his caravan, she could get a better look at the stranger. The gadje couldn't possibly be the man from the ferry. She waved at Lotte sitting under the canopy folding summer clothes to be put in storage. "Where is he?" Cojiňī asked.

"Inside, wondering where you are. Welcome home," Lotte said standing to hug the young woman. "It didn't go well this time?"

Before she could answer Demetri's head appeared in the doorway," Coji?"

"Hello, Uncle. Sorry for being late, I should have called, but it was just easier to grab a ride and come on. I have the travel permits," she held the stack of papers out, "But it was a mess."

"Why; we haven't caused trouble in three years," Demetri said taking the documents.

"They are cracking down on the weapons black market. It took the immigration committee's help to get the government in the Hague to cooperate. It seems there is a push on to stop Travellers from making our journeys."