“It all began nine long years ago. The people who had raised me told me their dark secret. I had a sister somewhere!They told the story of how my parents had been poor and sold their children to different families to get money to live.
My parents were Scotch/Irish, and the family I had lived with most of my life was Irish.
Since I was returning home to stay with them after the death of my husband, they thought it was a good time for me to try to find my siblings. I suspect they were just trying to get rid of me.
“I eventually learned that my younger sister had also been widowed, and had run off with Gypsies a few years back; at least, that’s what I had told by her late husband’s family. I was told her name was Bekka, or something like that, they couldn't remember exactly. She was running from a man she feared and despised, so they begged me not to tell anyone else where she might be hiding. I decided to take off on my own to try to find my sister.
“I traveled across the country till I met a Frenchman named Vincent D’Orleans in a pub one night. He was kind. I told him of my quest to locate my sister. He listened intently, offering in the end to be an escort, to protect me from the perils of the road. He had a nice voice, and strong kind hands. I thought I would trust him and travel with him. We traveled together for eight long years and grew quite fond of each other. Finally, while waiting in a small ocean village for the Gypsy troupe to make their annual pass through the town, we were married.
“Just this last year we have joined with a traveling Gypsy group, after some initial tribulation. I think one of them, who calls herself Aysha, could be my sister. Vincent thinks so too.”
