She jumped out of bed and pranced over to her bags. Amused by her sudden energy, I watched as she dug through her things and pulled out clothes, before heading to the bathroom. She left the door open, so I watched her take off the tank top and sweats she had worn to bed. Then she pulled on a sleek, elegant maroon colored dress that Charlotte had made. It fit her perfectly, neatly falling to her knees. She pulled her hair up into a curly, messy ponytail.
I got up too, dressing in a casual button-up and shorts. It didn’t take either of us long to get ready.
After finding my father to tell him that we would be out for the day, I led Amy out to the garage.
“No Adam today?” she asked, looking at the row of parked cars that my father and I owned.
“Nope. I gave him the day off.” I winked at her. “You trust me enough to drive?”
“We’ll see. What are we taking?”
I walked up to the first car, a glistening silver Porsche, and tapped its hood. “Does this suit your tastes, my lady?”
She stuck out her tongue, and hopped into the passenger seat. Then we were off.
On the drive to the city, Amy played music while I drove. She had a widely diverse taste in music that I enjoyed, especially since I listened to the same five songs on repeat. She made the ride go by quickly, as we chatted about every subject under the sun.
It struck me how comfortable I was with her. In just a week, she’d somehow made it feel as if I’d known her for years, as if she was my closest friend. I felt like I could trust her with anything—which was, admittedly, frightening, daunting.
Finally, we made it to a large parking garage in the middle of the city. It was close to a lot of exciting things the city had to offer. I placed the ticket in the windshield, and we set out for the streets.
“Where do you want to go first?” I asked her.
Amy considered my question. “I don’t know. Anywhere is fine with me.”
I laughed. “Oh no, we’re not playing that game. There has to be somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. Anywhere in the city. Come on, I’ll take you.”
“Okay. This is gonna sound boring and typical,” she said. “But I’ve always wanted to go to the Empire State Building.”
“You’ve never been there?”
“Nope. I’ve passed it plenty of times, but I’ve never been to the top. I have a weird enjoyment of heights.”
“Amelia Parker. You have lived in New York your whole life and you never… I don’t know how that happened, but we’re going to have to fix it… today.”
Amy skipped a few steps ahead of me, bouncing with enthusiasm.
We were only a few blocks away. I held her hand as we walked through the crowds of people, enjoying the feeling of having her beside me.
It didn’t take long at all to arrive at the building and get to the elevator. There were several other people who apparently had the same destination in mind. The machine made several stops, letting some people out and bringing others in. Trying not to feel claustrophobic, I watched the floor numbers lighting up, growing as we got closer to the top. With every floor that we passed, Amy squeezed my hand.
Finally, the doors opened at the 102nd floor, and we all got out.
Amy practically ran to the edge, leaning over and peering out. I watched, amused as her jaw fell open, and she turned back to me.
“This,” she declared, “is really cool.”
Chuckling, I stood next to her. “Look. You can see Rittsman Enterprise from here.”
“Oh my goodness, look at that! It looks so tiny from here.” She pointed. “Look, over in that area is my apartment, you can’t see it from here, but that’s pretty much where it is. Close to the firm, within walking distance.”
We continued pointing out the different places we knew, remarking on how full and complicated the city was. At first glance, it seemed so chaotic, sprawling around the water. But, upon further inspection, one could admire the organization and planning, the human thought that had gone into the city.
“Ready to go?” I asked Amy.
She looked like she didn’t want to pull her gaze away, but finally turned to me, her eyes bright. “Where to next?”
“How about Central Park?”
* * *
There was a festival going on in the park, with rows of tents set up, people selling their wares. We walked through, tasting samples and playing carnival games.
We were stopped by an old woman calling us forward. There was a sign in front of her tent that read, Madame Zee, Expert Fortune Teller, $5.
“Would you two dears like to know what your future holds?” the lady asked us. She was younger than I would have expected, with a mane of frizzy red curls framing her face. She wore a peasant skirt, a loose blouse, and her outfit was wrapped and layered with scarves.
I looked down at Amy, and she nodded eagerly.
“Step forward, step forward,” the fortune teller said, opening the door to her tent. We followed her in.
The ambiance of the tent was mystical, with incense and smoke wafting in the air. Candles were lit and placed around the shelves, along with old books and jars filled with interesting objects. Madame Zee sat down on the thick, colorful rug, and gestured for us to sit across from her.
I never had great faith in anything supernatural, but there was definitely something eerie about this space, enough to send chills up my arms. I glanced over at Amy, who had a wide-eyed, expression on her face.
“Have either of you ever had a tarot reading before?” Madame Zee asked.
Each of us shook our head.
“It’s quite simple,” she said. “But powerful. I will lay down three cards from my deck. The first card will represent the physical realm—the earthly, material world and how it currently relates to you. The second card is the mental realm, or the mind. The third is the spiritual realm. The cards have different meanings, and it is ultimately up to you to interpret them, based upon your intuition. I can assure you that you will be walking away today with a deeper understanding of yourselves—and each other.”
Madame Zee had a way of talking that was laden with mystery and invitation, causing both Amy and I to lean forward as she explained the process.
“I’m going to give you a couple’s reading.” She handed us each half of the deck. “Shuffle eight times,” she said. We did so. “Now combine the decks again, and split it into three piles. Very good. Now, flip the top card on each pile.”
We obeyed.
“Now, let us see what we have.” Madame Zee leaned forward, studying the cards. “I see. Very, very interesting.”
She tapped her finger on the first card. “Your first card is the Devil.”
“Well, that’s heartening,” Amy said wryly. I chuckled.
Madame Zee smiled. “No tarot cards are innately good or bad. They are simply expressions of different states. The Devil represents the taboo. It’s a symbol of our most primal desires and passions. This card, I feel, is brimming with lust and sexuality. ” She closed her eyes, breathing in the incense in the air. “Addiction… bondage… gratifications. Remember, this card represents the earthly world, which makes sense, as it expresses earthly pleasures.”
Amy and I exchanged glances. I lifted my eyebrows at her. She was blushing heavily.
“Given this card, I would advise you two to drop any inhibitions you might have. This card lacks subtlety and strategy—it is purely want and honesty. Express yourself as truly as you are able.”
Her hand shifted over to the next card. “Ah. The Lovers, of course. Now, this is relative to your mental realm. Perhaps there is something holding you two back, or something unspoken between you. The Lovers, as the name would suggest, are all about love, unions… bonds. It reflects the challenges and rewards of choosing a partner. You’ll see a crossroads painted on the card, reminding us that we cannot take both paths. We must eventually make a choice, or forever remain stagnant. It is a romantic card, certainly, but more than this, it is one of decision. We
will always have our fantasies, but we must not forget to attend to reality. My advice would be to consider all of the options before you, and never be unwilling to compromise.”
Her words were causing me to think. I knew how this worked, of course—these so-called psychics would spin some words so vague that they couldn’t not be applied to one’s own life. But there was something about Madame Zee and her cards that was strangely related to my own life. I couldn’t help but hear what she was saying and think, huh.
Her hand rested on the final card. “The Empress. A wonderful finale. The Empress is representative of motherhood—generosity, warmth, kindness, all motherly traits. This card applies to your spiritual states. It is often considered to be a message from your spirit, something you yourself may not even realize yet. That said, it’s often the hardest to understand.” She looked up at Amy. “It’s a very feminine card, and I feel it pulling specifically at you. The Empress herself is the Great Mother, or Mother Nature. She both surrounds us, and is inside each and every one of us. She is the power to give life. This is a very beautiful, hopeful card.”
Madame Zee tapped it a couple of times as she considered it. “It symbolizes many things—femininity, fertility, birth, creativity, action. I would say to you, instead of fearing that you are incapable or inadequate, understand that your influence is a powerful, positive force in the world. Recognize that your intentions toward responsibility and compassion are good.”
She picked up the cards in a single, smooth motion, and sat back, looking at us pleasantly.
Amy spoke first. “Thank you,” she said. “That was really interesting.”
“You’re welcome, dear. I’m happy you enjoyed it.”
I nodded. “Agreed. Thank you.”
I tipped her an extra fifty dollars on our way out. Not only was I fascinated, but Amy seemed to particularly enjoy it, and her joy was contagious.
As we continued through the festival, Amy and I chatted about the reading.
“I mean, I’m usually pretty skeptical about stuff like that,” Amy said, eating caramel corn we’d picked up from the tent next to Madame Zee’s. “But that was spooky. And really cool. And some of the stuff she said actually applied.”
“You think so?” I smiled. “Like she said, it’s all about how we interpret it.”
“Well, how do you interpret it?”
“Hmm… have sex, make decisions, and be feminine.”
“Oh, shut up.” She pushed at me teasingly. “The Devil, the Lovers, and the Empress. It does sound pretty cool. I thought it was fun.”
“I’m happy you enjoyed it, beautiful.” I kissed her cheek. “I did, too. I don’t get out often enough. I’d forgotten how much I love the culture.”
“Well, we’re here now,” Amy said. “And that’s what counts.”
We spent most of the day exploring the streets, but as the afternoon carried on, we wandered back to the car.
“Are we heading home now?” Amy asked, buckling her seatbelt.
“Not yet,” I said. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see! Have patience.”
Not giving her any hints, I started driving. We made our way out of the city, and finally ended up in an area of large, open fields. Amy looked out the car window, and gasped when she saw what was in the field.
“Hot air balloons?” she said. “No way.”
“Yes way. I made reservations for a private ride.”
“Oh my gosh! Are you kidding me?”
“Excited?”
“Yes, Of course I am.” She turned to me. “Thank you so much, Derek.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
We got out of the car, and an employee led us over to our striped blue and green balloon.
The pilot, an old man with a magnificent, gelled, handlebar mustache, gave us a brief overview and instructions before letting us into the basket and turning on the fire that inflated the balloon. When it was ready, he untied the rope that held us down.
The balloon floated slowly up into the sky. Amy peered over the edge, a smile stretched across her face. I could never get tired of her youthful excitement, and the way she looks at everything with such wonder.
Soon, we were soaring through the sky, the view spectacular. In the distance, the city, filled with skyscrapers looked so small. Stretching beneath us were endless green hills and fields. The trees looked like bushes, and the roads like pencil-drawn lines.
We floated through the sky, lazily, as the earth turned below us. It was amazing to take a step back and observe the world as it moved along without us.
I wrapped my arms around Amy from behind, resting my chin on her head.
A perfect day, I thought. With a perfect woman.
The sun began to set on the horizon, streaking the sky with magnificent reds, oranges, yellows and pinks. And we were a part of that sunset.
“This is amazing,” Amy whispered. I hugged her tighter.
We were up there for at least an hour, then too soon, the balloon began to descend, as stars appeared in the night sky.
The balloon touched down gently, and the old man asked if we enjoyed our flight. We nodded eagerly, like children who had just gotten off of a rollercoaster.
By the time we made it back to our vehicle, it was dark. We headed home, through the dark winding country roads. Our conversations fell smoothly to silence, and we simply appreciated each other’s presence.
Finally, we made it back to my father’s mansion. Keeping quiet so we didn’t wake anyone, we tip-toed in, giggling and shushing each other as the doors and floors creaked.
“I’m not really tired,” Amy said, as we stood in the foyer.
“Me neither,” I said.
We stared at each other for a moment. After such a spectacular day, it seemed appropriate that we end it with something just as meaningful.
“Follow me,” I said.
Taking her hand, I led her through the mansion, until we arrived at the ballroom where we hosted the cocktail party earlier that week. Now, it was empty. It was grand, but there was something melancholic about it.
“It’s lonely in here,” Amy said, her thoughts echoing around the room and in my mind.
“Well,” I replied. “Then I fit right in.”
She smirked. “We both do.”
I pulled out my phone, powered it on, and turned on a song that was recorded in the 1940’s, an old favorite of mine. The tune was slow, almost sad, but beautiful. I held out my hand to her.
“A dance?”
She took my hand, and I pulled her into me.
“Do you know how to waltz?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she said. “I took a dance class once, a few years ago. I’m a bit rusty.”
“Psh. You’ll be fine.” I placed one hand on her back and lifted the other, stepping carefully, so that she could learn the pattern. She picked it up easily, following my lead, light on her toes. “Impressive.”
Together, we moved across the dance floor, our steps matching the subdued beat of the music. Having her here, in my arms, I felt my chest tightening—not with lust, as she had so often caused in me before. No, this was something else, something deeper.
She leaned her head against my shoulder, and it struck me.
I think I am in love with this woman.
Could I be? I’d only known her a week. There was no way that, in such a short amount of time, I could feel something this strong. I must be fooling myself. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was just dreaming. It couldn’t be real.
And yet, here I was. I wanted nothing more than to voice my feelings, to tell her what I was thinking.
But I didn’t. I bit my tongue.
The song ended, and we reluctantly pulled apart.
Chapter 20
Amy
Yesterday had to be the most amazing day of my life. Adventuring throughout the city with Derek was more fun than I’d had in a very long while. There was something about him, somet
hing inexplicable that made everything lovelier. He was addicting, and I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to leave. How would I be able to go back to a life without him.
Today, he told me that there was a ranch about two miles away where he spent the majority of his childhood summers. Apparently he was an avid horseback rider, back in the day.
This man never failed to surprise me.
After lunch, we decided to walk over.
Derek knocked at the door of the huge country estate. A plump, tan, older woman answered the door. Her eyes lit up when she saw Derek.
“Derek Rittsman!” she trilled, and pulled him into a tight, matronly hug. “Here I was thinking you’d gotten too old to come visit me. Come in, come in. And who’s this?”
Smiling, Derek introduced me. “This is Amy. Amy, this is Aunt Joelle.”
I went to shake her hand, but instead, Aunt Joelle pulled me into a breath-stealing hug.
“How lovely to meet you, darling! Did you two want some iced tea and biscuits? Or if you can stay a while, there is a loaf of banana bread in the oven.”
“Mm, I can smell it,” Derek said. “That sounds delicious. I was wondering if I could take Amy over to see the horses.”
“Of course!” Aunt Joelle chirped. “Take them out, if you want. They’d love to see you. Just promise to come back here and have a visit before you go.”
“We will,” Derek said, taking my hand and leading me to the back door. We walked across a field, toward a large stable.
“Your aunt?” I asked.
“We’re not actually related,” Derek explained. “I don’t have any other living family, apart from my father. Joelle is the sister of my father’s third wife. She was the one who introduced them. Even before that, though, I spent so much of my time over here that she basically adopted me.”
“She seems really nice.”
“She is,” he said. “And her cooking is to die for.”
We reached the stable, and Derek held open the door for me. There were seven horses, each in their own box.
Derek paused at the first horse, a small, grey mare, and rubbed her nose affectionately.
“This is Pepper,” he said, his tone fond and nostalgic. “I used to take her out all the time. She was my favorite. We went on so many adventures, didn’t we, girl?”
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