Read an Excerpt
Grave Intent
By Deborah LeBlanc
Dorchester Publishing
Copyright © 2005
Deborah LeBlancAll right reserved.
ISBN: 0-8439-5553-8
Chapter One
Anna tucked the blanket around her baby, careful to leave the
newborn's left leg out as instructed. She heard the
tambourines from outside the camper grow louder, shriller,
like a thousand rattlesnakes hissing in disgust at what she
was about to let happen. The community had been celebrating
since midday, a jubilee the size normally sanctioned for
weddings and baptisms. Drunken voices shouted over mandolins
and enthusiastic offerings of percussion with jugs and spoons.
In that moment, amidst the raucous banter, Anna hated her
husband. She was all too familiar with his over-inflated ego,
how it fed on pomp and circumstance, how it caused him to
embellish traditions or add new ones. Many times she had seen
him turn time-honored customs into regimented absurdities or
create new, inane rituals that served no other purpose but to
flex an authoritative muscle. It wasn't enough that his role
as leader came by birthright, which afforded him an
indisputable, ardent following. He wanted absolute control of
all things-even death. The new ceremony he had commissioned
for today proved it. He was going too far this time.
Anna kissed the top of her daughter's head, the crown of black
hair so soft against her lips she could hardly feel it. She
threw a cautious glance about the confinesof the trailer,
then whispered into the infant's ear the name only she would
use for her. Not even her husband would be privy to it, as was
custom. The baby's community name, the one to be used by every
member of the tribe, she called out softly in the
claustrophobic space. "Thalia. You are my greatest love."
The baby's eyelids fluttered as though in approval, and Anna
clutched her tighter to her breast. She reached for a silver
music box that sat on her nightstand and opened the lid. A
miniature ballerina, poised in the center of the box, began to
pirouette to a lullaby.
"I'm so sorry," Anna murmured. "I would burn the flesh from my
own body if that would stop him." She snuggled her face
against her child's neck. "I will do what I can to make sure
it goes quickly."
She placed Thalia in her bassinet and turned reluctantly to
the bed where the skirt her mother-in-law had made for the
occasion lay in multicolored folds. Sighing deeply, Anna put
it on, feeling the hem scratch against her ankles. She chose a
white peasant blouse to go with it, not caring whether it
matched or not. Bracelets and necklaces, thick with ornate
gold and onyx, had already been chosen for her and laid out on
top of the bureau. Their beauty and value meant nothing to her
tonight. They felt cold and heavy like her body when she
clasped them into place. She placed the droshy that had
belonged to her mother on top of her head for good luck. Her
fingers trembled and fumbled with the silk knot as she secured
it to the back of her head.
After closing the music box, Anna lifted Thalia from the
bassinet and carried her to the front room near the
kitchenette. She stood there, clutching her child, waiting,
watching the door, and not for the first time in her life,
wishing she had been born white or black or Russian, anything
but Roma....
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Grave Intent
by Deborah LeBlanc
Copyright © 2005 by Deborah LeBlanc.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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