The Ghosts of Anatolia Read Free

a fine horse. What’s his name?”
    “Tiran, and his brother over there is Alexander.”
    Bedros leaned against the fence and watched the colt gallop toward the barn. “Tiran’s destined to be a fine riding horse, Sirak. He reminds me of the horse your grandfather gave me when I was a boy. I named him Tartus. To this day, he’s the best horse I ever owned.”
    Mourad walked from the barn carrying Bedros’ bags. “I watered and fed your horse. Let’s go inside, and I’ll ask Kristina to prepare you something to eat.”
    “Thank you, Brother. Where are Stepannos and Mikael?”
    “A new American missionary school opened in Chunkoush last year. I let them go whenever I can. They attend full time, now that we’ve picked the cotton. They’ll be home later this afternoon. Come on, let’s go inside.”
    Bedros took his bags and the two men walked to the house.
    Mourad opened the front door. He stepped inside the cramped front room. The kitchen was tucked in one corner and a hall in the back led to the bedrooms.
    Kristina, a slender, fair-skinned woman, her dark-brown hair covered with a scarf, turned from the stove at the sound of the door. “Bedros!” she exclaimed. She brushed past her daughter and kissed him on the cheek. “You look so tired. Is everything okay?”
    “Everything’s fine. I just need a little rest and a bit of your wonderful cooking.”
    She smiled. Tonight I’ll prepare a special dinner just for you. Where’s Liza?”
    “She decided to stay in Istanbul with the children.” Bedros squatted and smiled at a slight, dark-haired young girl sitting on the floor playing with a tattered doll. “Izabella, my little princess, are you ready to give your Uncle Bedros a hug?”
    The dark-haired cherub looked up and shook her head.
    “No hug? Have you forgotten who gave you that doll? Then, I guess you’re not interested in the new doll I brought for you.” Bedros set his bag down, and crouching to the floor, fished through the bottom. He pulled out a small red ball and held it out to Sirak. “This is for you, Nephew.”
    Sirak beamed with joy. He took the ball and turned it over in his hands.
    Izabella got up from the floor and shuffled shyly toward her uncle.
    Smiling broadly, Bedros pulled out a baby doll dressed in pink nightclothes, and held it up. “Do you like it? Your Aunt Liza made the clothes herself.”
    Izabella, her eyes sparkling, glanced at her mother. Kristina smiled reassuringly and nodded. Finally, Izabella reached for the doll, but Bedros jerked it back.
    “Oh, no! First, I want a hug.”
    Izabella frowned, and glanced at her mother.
    “Your uncle Bedros traveled a long way to see you, Izabella,” Kristina reassured. “Go ahead, give him a hug.”
    Izabella peeked out from beneath her long bangs. Finally, she warily hugged her uncle’s arm and Bedros pressed the doll into her tiny hands.
    Smiling with heartfelt glee, Izabella clutched it to her chest. Bedros, Mourad and Kristina erupted into laughter.
    “And these are for you, Flora,” Bedros said. He held out a small red box.
    “Thank you, Uncle,” Flora replied politely. She took the small box, and with a gleeful smile, opened it. Two ruby earrings were fastened to white silk in the bottom. Flora beamed with delight. She handed them to her mother and Kristina helped her put them on.
    Bedros handed three wooden boxes to his brother. “I bought these ivory-handled knives from an African trader in Istanbul. They’re for the older boys. Make sure Alek gets one when he comes home to visit.”
    “Thank you for your generosity,” Kristina said appreciatively. “You’re always so thoughtful.”
    Bedros smiled. “We all miss you so much and look forward to the day when we can return to Anatolia. We long to celebrate birthdays and Christmas together as a family.”
    “There is nothing we pray for more than this,” Kristina said. “Since you moved to Istanbul, there is an emptiness in this home that can only be filled