Tarot's Kiss (Tarot Chronicles)

by Nichole Blackfinch

  There was no one else in the restroom to help me, but even if another woman entered, what would I do? I mean, who would believe me if I yelled out for help and said I was stuck to the toilet paper holder?

  I pulled and pulled, growing increasingly panicked at my stuck hand. I gave up trying to be quiet and pounded on the gray plastic dispenser with all my might, hoping to at least knock the holder away from the wall. My new little evening bag dangled from the hook on the back of the stall door. My cell was in there; I could call Gavin and tell him to get help—no, I couldn’t do that. No way.

  You can do this, Lucy, I told myself. I braced my new high-heeled sandals against the frame of the stall, took a deep breath and used my left hand to pull against the front cover of the holder. The cover snapped out and clattered to the floor. I sighed with relief and rubbed at the red mark that was left on my wrist. I left the stall and a quick glance around the room assured me that luckily no one was around to see I’d just broken the dispenser.

  As I washed my hands, I caught sight of my reflection. Not so nice. I still had a sweaty sheen on my upper lip and my cheeks were flushed red with the activity. My hair had twisted into damp straggly locks around my neck and as I took a step toward the door, I realized that the cap had fallen off the bottom of the heel of my right shoe, making me walk slightly lopsided.

  So now I’d been in the bathroom quite some time and I was heading back to the table with a half-limp, sweaty and red-faced, rubbing my wrist. I wondered what was worse, telling Gavin the truth or having him assume that I’d been in the bathroom for a long time because I was struggling with some sort of gross intestinal issue.

  Our entrees had arrived by the time I took a seat at the table. Gavin took a good look at me and I could tell he was trying to decide whether or not to comment. His politeness prevailed, so he just smiled and remarked that his steak looked delicious.

  “I got stuck,” I blurted out, unable to take it any longer. “In the bathroom, I got stuck to the toilet paper holder thing and I couldn’t get unstuck and that’s what took so long.”

  “Beg your pardon?” Gavin replied.

  “My hand got trapped in the toilet paper dispenser.”

  He was quiet for a moment and then suddenly burst into laughter. “I’m sorry Lucy, but that is so ridiculous.”

  I tried to think of a snappy response, but it’s hard to be indignant when you do look ridiculous. Instead, I joined him in laughing at my expense and after that the dinner was less awkward. We talked about our plan for the following morning as we finished our meals.

  After dinner, Gavin took my arm as we walked back to the car. He walked to the passenger side of the car to open my door and I smiled at him as he let go of my arm.

  “That was really fun,” I said.

  “It was,” replied. “You see, I don’t always have something lodged up my backside. I save that for special occasions.”

  I laughed and swatted his arm. He caught my wrist and suddenly I was right up against him, enclosed by his arms, his warm body against me. My heartbeat tripled in my chest as my eyes met his.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. He lowered his face toward me, slowly, until I felt the pressure of his full perfect lips on my mouth and his hand at the nape of my neck. He kissed me deeply, his tongue meeting mine as I rested my hand on his stomach. I leaned back against the car and he pressed against me, his kiss becoming more urgent, deeper. Warmth flooded my skin from head to toe, and I wanted him.

  An indignant voice interrupted us. “Really,” a woman chastised loudly as she passed by. “The things people do in public!”

  Gavin released me and cleared his throat, opening the car door for me, the spell broken. We didn’t speak on the ride back to the hotel, but I snuggled back in my seat, awash in delirious lustful happiness. If Matt didn’t want me anymore, fine. Apparently someone else did.

  Chapter 21. Gemini.

  “I WONDER IF THEY’LL HAVE her birth certificate,” I said to Gavin as we approach the red brick building that housed The Placer County Recorders Office.

  “Well, you know her date of birth and her maiden name, so if your theories are correct, they should.”

  We followed the signs to the office and stepped inside. There were no other customers, just a plump middle-aged woman behind the counter, hole-punching a stack of paperwork.

  I approached the counter; according to the placard beneath her, the woman’s name was Nancy. I explained to her that I was working on some genealogical research and needed a copy of my grandma’s birth certificate. She handed me a clipboard will a pen chained to it.

  “Just fill this out, dear, and I’ll pull it right up,” she said. I completed the form, handed it back to her, and she disappeared through a gray door at the back of the office, promising to be right back. Gavin and I each took a seat and I aimlessly began to read the voting posters and dreary instructional signs on the wall.

  “Here we are,” she announced, coming back up to the counter, with a printed sheet of paper. “Eleanor Anne Gibson, born right here in Auburn, twin birth. Is this what you’re looking for, dear?”

  “Twin birth? My grandma never mentioned about a twin,” I said, sounding sharper than I intended.

  Nancy handed me the paper. “It is possible one of the twins didn’t make it, dear. Medicine was different all those years ago, you know, and not as many babies were saved.”

  “Oh, I guess that’s true,” I said. I wondered what it would be like to lose a twin. Even if you were too young to remember, would a part of you still ache with the missing of the second heartbeat that had been your closest companion for nine months?

  Gavin leaned across the counter toward Nancy. “Would it be possible to find the name of the twin?” he asked. “And the, er, fate of the child?”

  “Yes, we could find that easily since we have a date of birth. I must admit I’m curious myself now,” Nancy said. “If you’ll give me just a moment, I’ll see what I can turn up.” She disappeared through the gray door again. Gavin and I returned to our brown chairs in the corner of the room. I look around in vain for a magazine to read or for something to occupy my mind while we waited.

  “It seems your grandmother was full of secrets,” Gavin said.

  I looked at him sharply, raising my eyebrow.

  “I’m not saying anything unkind about her, Lucy. But she was living under a false name, from a town she’d never mentioned, and she was a twin to boot. So it leads me to wonder why she’d need to be so secretive. Was it just the Guild or is there more to it? What was she trying to hide?”

  “Do you think she was a criminal or something?” I asked.

  “Not necessarily. But what if she had good reasons for all this surreptitiousness? Perhaps we’re trying to uncover secrets that are best left hidden,” he said.

  “Yeah, that could be true, but it’s pretty much all we’ve got to go on for finding the card, so where does that leave us?”

  “Exactly where we are, I suppose,” Gavin replied. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, or disappointed, in what we might find out.”

  Before I could reply, Nancy reappeared from the back of the office, clutching a note pad in her pudgy hands. We stood to join her at the counter. She pulled the top sheet of paper from her note pad and placed it in front of me. “I was able to find her twin’s birth certificate,” she said, pointing at the top of the paper. “The other baby was named Emmaline. Emmaline Gibson. Emmaline and Eleanor, such lovely names.”

  A sharp little involuntary gasp escaped me as a sudden memory surfaced. Gavin looked at me questioningly and I shook my head. I’d share the memory later. Right now, I wanted to hear about Emmaline.

  “Now I didn’t show any record of death for an Emmaline Gibson in that year, so we know that the child survived infancy. But if she moved away or died elsewhere, well, we wouldn’t have record of that. I do hope this helps you,” Nancy said.

  I smiled at Nancy. I had a name now, another link in the long,
winding chain the led me to the Empress, and more importantly, to my past. I thanked her and was about to leave when she interrupted me.

  “There’s one other thing, dear,” she said. “Don’t you want to know who she married?”

  “You have that?” I exclaimed.

  “Yes, I had a little hunch you might want to know so I had a peek through the marriage records. Our records show that Miss Emmaline Gibson married a Mr. Donald Peck about thirty-five years ago.” Nancy lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and continued, “Addresses are confidential, but I don’t think there’s any harm in telling you that they both listed Auburn as their city of residence at the time. So if you wanted to look for her…”

  “I do want to,” I replied. “Whatever might have happened between them, I’m sure Emmaline would want to know that her sister had passed away.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she would. I do hope you’re able to meet her. As a matter of fact,” Nancy stopped. “Well, nevermind.”

  “No, please go on,” Gavin said.

  Nancy twisted the long strand of pearls at her neck. “This isn’t really within guidelines, but I think I can help you some more. My husband Lennie is from Auburn, born and raised, and he’d be about the same age as Emmaline, you know. I could see if he knew her, or even her husband, really. It might be useful in your little search.”

  “That would be really great,” I said. “I’ll leave you my number and you could call me tonight when you talk to him.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Nancy said. She gestured at the empty room, “We’re not busy so I’ll just give him a ring right now, if you don’t mind.”

  Gavin and I waited as Nancy took a seat at a desk behind the high counter, listening as she recounted our story to her husband. I tried to guess what her husband was saying based on hearing only Nancy’s half of the conversation. It sounded promising. The conversation finally ended with a discussion of whether or not to have pork chops for dinner, and only then did Nancy return to the counter, beaming.

  “It turns out that my Lennie does know Emmaline, or did know her, anyway. He said he remembers those Gibson twins from high school.”

  “He does? That’s great,” I said.

  Nancy smiled ear to ear as she continued. “But the best part is that he remembers Emmaline and her husband moved into her parent’s old house after they passed away. And,” Nancy paused dramatically, “It turns out that it wasn’t too far from where Lennie’s parents lived, so he even was able to give me directions. You can find the house in person. Isn’t that fantastic?” She proudly thrust out a paper with directions written on it.

  “Yes, very fantastic,” I replied, taking the paper from her. “We’ll check it out.”

  Gavin reached out, taking Nancy’s hand in his. “You’ve been enormously helpful. I can’t thank you enough.” He looked intensely into her eyes, “It’s been a pleasure.”

  A blush crept up Nancy’s cheeks. She patted the bottom of her bob and cleared her throat. “Well, sure. Good luck to you both.”

  We left the building and stood outside, blinking at the bright midday sun. Gavin asked to see the directions and I handed them over. I’d read through them and it looked like we weren’t too far from the house.

  “Nancy certainly was eager to help,” he remarked as he looked over the page. “Considering she didn’t know us at all.”

  “I think you about gave her a heart attack there at the end. I was afraid you were actually going to kiss the back of her hand,” I said.

  “Nothing wrong with being polite.”

  I looked sideways up at Gavin as we walked to the car. “So, tell me,” I said, trying to sound playful, “Is that what last night was? Just being polite?”

  Gavin sighed. “No. No, it wasn’t that. Look, Lucy, I’m sorry about that. It was a lapse in good judgment. I shouldn’t have taken advantage and I apologize.”

  “So you didn’t like it?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you think it was bad judgment to kiss me?”

  “Right.”

  “Why was it bad judgment?”

  “We don’t need to analyze this. It was not unpleasant, but it was a mistake. Let’s just move forward.”

  Gavin walked to the driver’s side of the rental car and calmly sat down. I closed my car door with somewhat more force than necessary and fastened my seat belt with a vicious click. I counted to ten silently.

  “I don’t know how you can be so sure that it was a mistake,” I said. “Some guys would be happy to kiss me.”

  Gavin was silent for a long moment before beginning to laugh.

  “What’s so funny? You don’t believe me?”

  “Oh I believe you absolutely, Lucy. It’s just that your tenacity borders on insanity. It’s quite impressive, really,” he said.

  “I’m glad you’re impressed, but hey Gavin?”

  “What?”

  “You still didn’t answer my question.”

  “Let it go, Lucy. Let’s focus on finding this house.”

  I could sense he wasn’t going to discuss it further, so I pouted as we passed through an old-fashioned looking shopping area, the streets lined with a variety of inviting storefronts. The town had a welcoming, tourist feel to it, and under different circumstances I would have liked to have spent the afternoon nosing through the quaint bookstores and other intriguing shops, but today we had pressing business.

  I read the directions aloud to Gavin and watched as we reached the outskirts of town, the landscape quickly becoming more rural. When I thought of California, I always imagined the hustle and glamour of Los Angeles that I’d seen on tv, but this was different. Peaceful farms and sun-baked fields surrounded us, dotting our view with the sorts of houses that you pictured having an apple pie sitting on a kitchen window sill.

  “I hope that we’re tracking down the right person,” Gavin said.

  “I’m pretty sure of it,” I said.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “ Because of that name. Emmaline. I was startled to hear it.”

  “It’s familiar to you?” he asked.

  “Yeah. My grandmother wasn’t one of those old coots who had a bunch of creepy dolls, but she did have one doll—a really pretty one—that she called Emmaline. When I was little, my grandma and I would have tea parties with Emmaline. We’d have play discussions with her and that sort of thing.”

  “Knowing where the name came from makes that story kind of sad,” Gavin said.

  “It does. She must have missed her twin terribly. I wonder why she didn’t keep in touch. Who knows if we’ll ever find out.”

  Gavin eased the car to the side, parking so that the passenger side tires rested on the grass and weeds bordering the road. “This must be it,” he said.

  A picket fence hugged the deep expanse of lawn standing between the road and the house. An oak tree towered over much of the yard, marking the grass with lace-like shade. I wondered if there’d ever been a rope swing. Crisp black shutters and doors punctuated the white wood of the house; it was older home, but well-kept.

  We got out of the car and I took a deep breath as I walked through the gate. I hesitated at the door, my hands suddenly sweaty. A weathered red rocker stood on the porch, gardening gloves and a pair of hedge clippers on its seat. I felt like I needed to sit down.

  Seeing my hesitation, Gavin reached past me and pushed the doorbell. A chime sounded from within the house and we heard a woman’s voice quieting a dog that had begun to bark at the sound of the bell.

  The door slowly opened and there, standing right in front of me, was my grandma. Joy flooded me—I had missed her so much. I had so many things to tell her about graduation and about Savannah. But then my brain caught up with my heart and I realized that of course this woman would look like my grandmother. They were twins, and evidently identical twins at that. The sharp pain of loss stabbed again at my heart.

  “May I help you?” the woman asked, usin
g my grandma’s voice.

  “Yes,” I replied weakly. “My name is Lucy Auburn and I think that you know someone that I’m trying to find out about.” My words were confusing, even to my own ears.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” the woman replied. She shifted backward slightly, as if she was wary of us.

  “I, um, guess what I’m trying to say is that I think we are related. My grandma, she was—well, her name was Eleanor and I think she was your sister.”

  Chapter 22. Interlude, 1969.

  Joining the Guild had seemed like a good idea at the time, Ellie reflected as she put the last touches on her quilt. The world was changing and she’d wanted to do her part to usher in the new age of peace and sensibility—that was what had drawn her to San Francisco in the first place. So why not use her talents to help the Guild help the world? She’d been happy in San Francisco, surviving off luck, charm and the slim cash stream generated by the few readings for which she actually charged, but she’d been sure she’d enjoy Savannah as well.

  It was in Savannah that she’d come to love Richard, though she’d been drawn to him since the moment he’d approached her about joining the Guild. She’d known from her readings that a man was coming, a significant man--the love of her life, even--but she couldn’t have imagined how thoroughly her life would change upon meeting him. She couldn’t have prepared for the whirlwind of moving clear from one coast to another, the initial surreal magnificence of life at Durendal, the tensions that had so quickly escalated. Who could predict such things? Should she have chosen differently, she wondered as she drew the needle through the fabric again and again.

  There. The last stitch was finished and Richard’s letters were securely hidden in her quilt. She placed a hand on her stomach and smiled; no, of course she couldn’t have destroyed the letters as he’d asked. Those letters warmed her heart, comforted her. They would be her secret, forever sewn into her history. And anyway, there was going to be a fire that night. It would look strange for a woman to leave a burning building carrying a sheaf of papers, but no one would look askance at a woman with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders on a cool spring night.