Te Iubsec...Forever.

5 Past Lives

Ches took our oil lamp, and I got headlamps and another flashlight and followed her into the forest. When we got away from the glow of camp, I turned on a headlamp and stopped to give her the other. She declined.

"Nick, shut it off," she said, shaking her head and putting her palm flat on my chest.

"The moon and stars are bright enough; you will see."

I switched it off but kept it strapped to my head. I stuffed the other into my pocket, took her hand, and let her lead me. Weird stationary shapes were looming in the nearby darkness, but I put them out of my mind and focused on Ches moving carefully through the trees. Sure enough, I could see much better after a few more minutes; not as good as with my flashlight, but passably good.

In a few minutes, she stopped at the remains of a wall.

"This is the house of Freng Barbu. He was a magnificent trader and traveled from Castile on the Mediterranean to the gates of Mongolia. He had many caravans. He was a kind man and very wealthy. He could have made his home anywhere, but he chose humble Petronela."

She looked around the woods as she spoke, the lantern casting strange dancing shadows as she moved it in front of her. Even her accent, which was endearing but barely there, had suddenly become more prominent. Her eyes were glassy as if fighting back the tears, but it was something else, something almost trance-like. She turned back to me, smiling a distant smile.

"Andrei Erner, he was caravaner Captain, and it was right over there by those trees where I first saw him."

She pointed to a large stand of trees further up a small hill in front of us.

"He came from what is now Russia. He was tall, had beautiful sun-bleached hair, and his hands were calloused and rough. He didn't notice me; at least, I didn't think so."

Her features became girlish, grinning, and innocent.

My mother ushered me away and told me to fetch water from the spring house for our dinner. Andrei had lived in our village before, but I had not seen him in years. He had been traveling but would make our town his home again. His home, right over there," she pointed toward our camp.

"The Mitrea sister's home was up there just beyond those fallen trees," she said, pointing directly across from where we stood.

"They were both old ladies, cruel to me, and spied on me, telling my mother every move I made. I was always so happy when they were tending their goats in the fields beyond, especially when some of them got away," she said with a hint of childish frustration.

I was developing a picture of the town in my mind as she painted it with strokes from her spoken memories. Still, I was having difficulty wrapping my head around an entire village just disappearing. I mean, we were standing in the woods! Sure, there were walls and foundations here and there, things out of character, objects out of place in the wooded hills, but where had it all gone?

"There were many more people here in our little village, but they are not important now," she said, flashing her dark eyelashes to ensure I was listening.

"It was a few weeks later when I met Andrei at the well. I had been watching him build his home with the help of several other men. I watched him in the early morning, cutting logs and dry stacking stones they had gathered. My poor mother could only do so much to shoo me away."

"You were hung up on this fellow, huh?"

Franceska smiled to herself, reached out and touched my hand, gripped my arm tightly, and put it around her waist. We walked back toward what was left of her home and our campsite as she continued her story.