by P. D. Kalnay
My hands itched to dig through the workshop. I was good at all the subjects at school, but the only one I genuinely enjoyed was art class. Moving around so much made it a challenge, but I never tired of making something new. In the past, every time I moved, I threw away or left behind my projects. When summer ended, and I was alone with Gran in the house, I planned to claim the workshop as my own. Who knew what I might make! At present, my time was spoken for, so I pushed those plans to the back of my mind.
Chapter 13 – Misfortunes
On my way to a much needed shower, following sword practice with Mr. Ryan, I was hailed from the little sitting room where Gran took her tea.
“Young Jack,” Madame Gawina called.
She sounded strange, and even as I turned to look, I realised her voice was smoother and her accent was gone. That was nothing compared to her physical transformation. The woman sitting on the dusty-rose sofa was unquestionably Madame Gawina, but she looked so different that she could have been the daughter (or possibly the granddaughter) of the woman I’d met earlier. The hair poking out of her silk scarf at dinner had been steel grey. Thick, wavy black hair now cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. Her wrinkles were mostly gone too, and I re-evaluated her age at thirty-something. Scarves and bangles had been replaced with a simple silk dressing gown, and an open book rested in her lap. I found I could only stare. Her bright blue eyes twinkled. No trace of the whitish haze remained.
“It’s rude to stare,” she said.
She smiled, and that smile made funny things happen inside me.
“Sorry,” I said. “You look…”
Madame Gawina laughed.
“I’ve changed out of my work clothes. Now and then, it’s nice to let your hair down.”
“What do you do for work?” I couldn’t help asking.
“I am Madame Gawina, teller of fortunes and conduit to the next world,” she said with the accent and huskier voice from earlier. “I came here directly from a client’s, and I didn’t have time to change before dinner.”
“You really are a fortune-teller?” I blurted out. What were the odds?
“Do you believe in magic, young Jack?” She smiled again as she said it, and it made me laugh.
“No,” I said, returning her smile. She seemed nice and prettier by the minute.
“I see. Would you like me to tell you your fortune anyway?”
I didn’t believe in astrology, palm reading, or any of that junk, but she was very pretty.
“OK.”
“Come and sit next to me.” She patted the cushion beside her on the little sofa.
I’d only made it halfway across the room before Ivy’s voice stopped me dead in my tracks.
“What are you doing?” Ivy asked from the doorway.
I looked back, feeling guilty. That was strange because I’d done nothing wrong.
“I was about to have my fortune read,” I said. “For fun.”
“Perhaps, the young lady wishes… to have her own fortune told?” Madame Gawina queried softly.
Ivy’s face did a twitchy thing.
“I already know what my future holds,” she said.
“People always think they know,” Madame Gawina said. “But often, their fate resembles nothing of what they’ve imagined.”
“It’s not real,” I said. “Why don’t you have a try, just for fun?”
“You are an idiot, Jack.” Ivy didn’t look away from Madame Gawina as she said it.
“Where’s the harm child?” Madame Gawina asked her. “If your future is set in stone, there’s no reason not to let me see.”
Ivy looked back and forth between us, before moving to sit on the cushion next to Madame Gawina. Gently, Madame Gawina took Ivy’s little face in her hands and stared into her eyes.
“Aren’t you going to read her palm?” I asked.
“The wrinkles on a person’s hands mean nothing,” Madame Gawina replied distantly.
For a minute or two, nothing happened, except for some silent staring into eyes. I was growing bored, and I wondered how Madame Gawina made a living with so little in the way of proper showmanship. Then she spoke, and the creepy/mystical voice she used was pure carnival gold.
“Your destiny is clouded,” she said. “Two great shadows wait along your path. One… will stand beside you.”
She went silent again. That was super vague, I thought. But fortune-tellers and psychics specialised in vague answers and generalities.
“Is there more?” Ivy asked.
“Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Yes,” Ivy said. She was really getting into it.
Madame Gawina continued.
“That which you fear most will come to pass, but you will find hope and joy in the darkness. Where your path will end… is clouded from my Sight.”
“Clouded by what?” Ivy asked.
“By the shadows along your path. They will tear the Weave and shake the Tree to its roots. You will be swept up in a storm of their making. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. Perhaps, elsewhere…” Madame Gawina took her now shaking hands from Ivy’s face.
It was totally vague, but I thought it made a pretty good show. Ivy looked to be taking her fortune very seriously. I figured a girl who talked to plants might believe in that stuff.
“Thank you,” Ivy said.
“It wasn’t very useful information,” Madame Gawina told her, shaking her head. “I’m limited here.”
She looked like she would say more, but after glancing over at me, decided against it. Ivy got up from the sofa and moved to sit on the far side of the coffee table.
“Well, Jack? Shall we see if your future is any clearer?” Madame Gawina asked.
“I’m kind of sweaty,” I said.
Most of my sweat had dried, but I was still stinky from practising.
“I’m sure I’ll survive.” She patted the cushion Ivy had just vacated.
“Why not?”
I sat next to her, and she grabbed my face. Her hands were soft and warm, and she smelled like roses. I could feel my face flush when she pulled it close to her own.
“No need to be nervous,” she said. “I won’t bite.”
Then she looked into my eyes as she’d done with Ivy. I looked into her pale blue eyes too, but I just saw eyes. After a few seconds, those eyes went wide, and she pulled her hands from my face as though they were on fire. She also backed away from me as much as the sofa would allow.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, wondering if this was another part of the show.
“I’ve overstepped,” she said. “Please forgive me.” Madame Gawina was looking at her hands, now in her lap, as if she was afraid to make eye contact again.
“Yes, you have,” Gran said from the doorway. “I have rules regarding business being conducted under my roof.”
“I meant no harm,” Madame Gawina said.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Ryan asked.
He’d obviously been walking down the hallway, most likely on his way to the library. Unlike me, he was shower-fresh. His short hair still looked damp.
“Nothing of consequence,” Gran said. “Madame Gawina was just about to wish us a good night.”
The fortune-teller popped up from the sofa, looking relieved, and made for the door.
“Good night everyone,” she said.
She didn’t look at me on the way by, but she looked up at Mr. Ryan as he stepped aside to let her pass. Madame Gawina stopped, frozen, staring at Mr. Ryan until Gran coughed loudly. When she looked at my grandmother, her face was a mask of pure terror. I thought she might throw up. Gran looked coldly back at her.
“I will speak of it to no one,” Madame Gawina told Gran in a whisper. She sounded desperate.
“You will not,” Gran agreed.
Ms. Mopat joined the party at that very moment.
“My servant will escort you to your room,” Gran said.
“That, that… isn’t necessary,” Madame Gawina said.
<
br /> “I will decide what is necessary under my roof,” Gran told her.
Not the best customer service, I thought. But I wasn’t going to correct Gran.
“As you say.” Madame Gawina looked unsteady on her feet. Ms. Mopat helped her with a firm grip under one arm.
“Can I help?” Mr. Ryan asked.
He looked concerned and confused, but who wasn’t?
“No, I’ll be fine,” Madame Gawina said. She averted her eyes from his face as she spoke.
Weird, I thought, she suddenly turned shy.
After Madame Gawina and Ms. Mopat were gone, I opened my mouth to ask Gran what the big deal was. Before I had the chance, she spoke to me instead.
“Jack, are you sitting on my antique sofa, filthy and covered in sweat?”
I was, and she looked super pissed.
“Sorry Gran.” I jumped up from my seat as Madame Gawina had done.
“Go shower.”
Gran’s order left no room for continued discussion.
Madame Gawina left before breakfast. That was the norm for many of Gran’s guests. Me, I was very busy and forgot about the incident—until the summer ended.
Chapter 14 – Questions and Answers
After mid-summer, things were generally good between Ivy and me. The more time I spent with her, the more certain I became that her original miserableness had been a self-defence mechanism. Though she was no less weird, I’d noticed that sometimes she was remarkably thoughtful and kind. Ivy had a particular soft spot for all of nature’s little creatures, even the ugly ones. One afternoon, I was tackled to the ground by a little blond ball of fury. I’d been standing on one leg, my foot poised to squish a nasty, hairy caterpillar in the garden. Next thing I knew, I was flat on my back in the dirt with Ivy on top of me.
“What’s the idea?” I demanded.
“What were you thinking?” Ivy shot back.
“I was just going to squish a caterpillar,” I said. “They eat the plants in the garden.”
Ivy climbed off of me and picked up the hairy little creature.
“This has as much right to live as you do,” she said.
“I don’t think it’s a kind that turns into a beautiful butterfly or anything. That grub will just become an ugly little mo–”
Ivy’s angry expression cut short the rest of what I was going to say. She was as mad as I’d ever seen her.
“Is the moth worth less than the butterfly because it’s less beautiful?” she asked softly.
Ivy liked butterflies. They were always landing on her fingers, and often, one would be in her hair when we were out in the garden. The only bugs Ivy liked better were bees. She thought bees rocked. I’m not kidding.
“I thought you liked butterflies.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Ivy carried the caterpillar to the far side of the lawn and set it down in the grass. She came back and started working again, ignoring me completely. I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure what I’d done wrong, but it was nicer when Ivy wasn’t mad at me, so I apologised anyway.
“Sorry,” I said. There, problem solved.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because… I upset you?”
“You’re an idiot,” Ivy said again, but she didn’t sound angry.
Time to change the topic.
“Where exactly are you from?” I asked.
Ivy looked up from the weed she was pulling.
“I promised I wouldn’t talk about that,” she said.
What?
“Promised who?”
“The mistress of the house,” Ivy said.
“Why? Why would Gran care if you told me about yourself? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“She didn’t give me her reasons. Perhaps, you should ask her.”
Asking my grandmother a question that mattered was like asking my parents. I might as well ask a brick wall for all the information I’d get.
“So you aren’t allowed to say anything about yourself?”
“Not in specifics,” Ivy said.
Wow, this was messed up.
“How about generalities?” I asked.
Ivy considered a moment.
“If it doesn’t touch on my promise, I can answer.”
“OK, I guess. Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“I’m an only child. My parents were so disappointed in me; they decided they would have no others.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true.”
“They told me so.” Ivy pulled another weed. The matter-of-fact way she said it made me believe her.
“How could they say something like that to you? That’s terrible.”
“My family isn’t like your television programs and movies.”
“Mine either. My parents don’t even talk to me if they can help it. In the years I stayed with my mom, I never saw or heard from my dad, and vice versa. Neither has even emailed me since I got here.”
“My parents sent me away as well.”
“You mean here?”
“No, I’m here at the request of your grandmother,” Ivy said. Then she added more softly, “I don’t know why.”
“Then who were you staying with before?”
“I can’t say without breaking my promise.”
“Were they nice to you?” I suspected I already knew the answer.
Ivy looked back at the ground before answering. “No.”
“Maybe you could stay here,” I suggested. “I’ll ask Gran. It’s not like she doesn’t have the room.”
“That’s… not possible.”
“I could try. You could go to regular school with me in the fall. I know a lot of stuff here is new to you, but I’d help.”
Ivy was staring at me, hard.
“What?” I asked.
“You’d do that?”
“Yeah, it’s nice having someone around to talk to and hang out with. Even if you are crazy.” I bent to pull a weed so she wouldn’t see my face.
“Thank you, Jack. I must leave when summer ends, but I thank you for your kindness.”
She sounded as if she might be crying. When I looked up again, Ivy had turned her back to me. Her shoulders shook with silent sobbing. I continued weeding, pretending not to notice.
***
Ivy wasn’t around the next morning. Mr. Ryan and I were enjoying a sweaty session of grappling on the wrestling mat in the gym. Both of us were in better shape than we’d been in at the start of the summer, making a certain amount of conversation possible. I hadn’t managed to learn much about Ivy, but I was sure even Gran couldn’t censor Mr. Ryan. I’d just tapped out of an arm bar, and we were getting back to our feet, when I decided to try my first go at really getting to know him.
If you’re wondering how it took me till past the middle of summer to ask my first personal questions, you have to understand my upbringing. My parents never answered my questions. Not concerning anything important. Years earlier I’d accepted it as normal and had given up trying. I knew it wasn’t normal, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.
“You ever been married?” I asked. I’m not sure why I started with that.
Mr. Ryan gave me a quizzical look.
“Thoughts of love on your mind?”
“What?”
“Ivy’s a cute girl.”
“Looney Toons too,” I said. “You’re a funny guy. I was just curious.”
“Never been married, Jack. I came close a couple of times. I guess I haven’t met the right woman.” Mr. Ryan smiled, but I’d swear there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “What’s with the sudden interest?”
I shrugged.
“What exactly do you do for a living?” I asked.
I received an appraising look.
“If we’re going to play twenty questions, you can put on the gloves and work the heavy bag while we talk.”
I grabbed the gloves, and Mr. Ryan steadied the bag for me. After I’d thrown a few jabs, he answered my question.
“How do you get a job like that?”
“I sort of fell into it. I retired from the army a few years back, and a buddy of mine, who was doing personal protection, asked me to cover for him while he dealt with family issues. That led to another job and referrals, and before I knew it, I had a second career. I’m too young to fully retire.”
“Where do you live?” Most people didn’t decide to stay at a rooming house in the middle of nowhere on a whim.
“As of this moment… right here.”
“I mean normally. Where’s your house?”
“I don’t have one. I kept an apartment for two years after I left the army, but my consulting business takes me all over. When I added up the time I spent at the apartment, it made little sense to keep the place. I’ve got a ten by ten storage unit for some of my junk, but mainly, I live out of my truck. A drifter, you might say. I go where the next job takes me. I’ve gotten to see a lot of new places along the way.” Mr. Ryan patted his now smaller belly. “The only real downsides are that I fell into eating a lot of fast food, and sometimes it’s hard to tell one hotel room from another. Keep your left hand up. That’s what’s nice about your grandmother’s place. It’s unique.”
“You can say that again. What did you do in the army?”
“I started out as an infantry officer, and then I moved into a more specialised unit after a few years. Giving you details would land my butt in jail. Think jumping out of planes and rappelling from helicopters, and I’m sure your imagination can fill in the rest.”
If someone else had told me that, I’d have been sceptical, but I could totally see Mr. Ryan kicking down the front door of a terrorist compound.
