Taurus Eyes

by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  I shook my head, shocked at his response.

  Jeremy nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I found some photographs there.”

  “All right, then. What would you think about the three of us going there together?”

  “You’d do that?” I asked. “With us?”

  “Absolutely. As long as you’re with me, I’ll be responsible for your well-being, and I’m fine with that.”

  “Your black belt against the spirit world?” Jeremy asked.

  “My everything against whatever is on that boat.” Jaffa raised his voice just enough to make Jeremy look down. “So what do you say? Shall we schedule a little field trip tomorrow night?”

  “Why not tonight?” Jeremy said.

  “I have a conference call with my publisher, but I don’t mind waiting a day.”

  “I’m going with you,” I said.

  “Good.” He rose from his chair and gave me a dorky grin. “See how much better everything works when you tell the truth, Logan?”

  NOTES TO SELF

  Now Jaffa knows that I lied twice. I hate that. How am I going to get him for a mentor if he doesn’t think he can trust me? Still, he wants to go back to the boat with us. If he thinks it’s worth exploring, I’m okay with it, and Jeremy is more than okay. Tomorrow, we investigate Sean’s Song again. This time with Jaffa’s approval. This time with no scary guy. And this time with no Ren Baylor trying to get me kicked out of this workshop. Maybe then, I can gain Jaffa’s respect.

  19

  WHEN CONFRONTING ADVERSITY, IT IS BEST TO RELY

  ON THE MOST ASSERTIVE PART OF YOUR SIGN. IF YOUR

  SUN IS PASSIVE OR ENTRENCHED IN EMOTION, FIND

  THE STRENGTH WITHIN YOU. DRAW ON THAT SPIRIT.

  SURE, IT WOULD BE EASY IF EACH OF US HAD A LOVING

  SUN SIGN, A MELLOW MOON AND VENUS, AND A MARS

  WITH THE FIRE OF ARIES, LEO, OR SAGITTARIUS. BUT

  MOST OF US DON’T. THAT MEANS THAT WHEN THE

  GOING GETS TOUGH, YOU MUST FIND THE STRENGTH IN

  YOUR CHART AND ACT ON IT.

  —Fearless Astrology

  WHERE’S YOUR MARS?

  The placement of Mars can influence your Sun sign, just as your Moon does. Unlike your Sun and Moon, which define your basic personality, the placement of your Mars determines how you prefer to deal with conflict and how you go after what you want. Even what appear to be negative traits may actually be positive for your combination of planets. A peace-loving Pisces or conflict-fearing Libra, for instance, might be empowered by Mars in Aries.

  Aries: This is Mars’ natural home, so if yours is here, that doubles and triples your warrior instinct. Conflict doesn’t bother you. Sometimes you even go looking for it.

  Taurus: With Mars here, you have a great need to succeed on your own terms and refuse to quit.

  Gemini: This placement will make even the most timid Sun sign outspoken and opinionated.

  Cancer: Mars’ fire is diffused in this Water sign. In Cancer, Mars can make the coldest sign more protective, possessive, and sometimes capable of verbally exploding.

  Leo: Mars in Leo can make the most passive sign push to get recognition and attention.

  Virgo: Mars in Virgo can make even the sunny disposition of a Leo, Sagittarius, or Gemini turn critical and nitpicky.

  Libra: Air expresses, and Mars here brings out any sign’s desire to debate and win any argument.

  Scorpio: With Mars in this sign, the most dispassionate signs are stirred by Scorpio emotions. This can work for or against you, depending on whether your emotional situation is positive or negative.

  Sagittarius: With Mars in the ever-traveling, witty Sadge, even shy Cancers will be more verbal about what they want.

  Capricorn: Mars in Capricorn will add a cool edge to event the most fiery Sun sign.

  Aquarius: Strong opinions and radical viewpoints are often found in this combination. Mars in Aquarius also makes even a reclusive, shy Sun sign more social.

  Pisces: This combination can be compassionate to others more than to self. With Mars in Pisces, there is a tendency to daydream rather than to do, which, unless checked, can stall or stop an otherwise promising future.

  Gram Janie was right again. I needed to ignore my mulling Sun and timid Moon and convince Jaffa that I was not a flake. Jeremy and I were supposed to meet him that night. And after class, I had an appointment with Mercedes, the reporter who had interviewed Baylor when he was still alive. Today, I would try extra hard to show how serious I was. And once the other students left, I was going to try to explain to him that I had only lied to keep Jeremy from getting in trouble. That was a good reason for lying, wasn’t it? To keep from snitching on someone else? I hoped so, because I didn’t want to face Jaffa tonight until the air was clear between us.

  He was more stern than usual in class, and I wondered if it was because he was still unhappy with me.

  “Today, we’re going to talk about the writer’s voice,” he told our group. “Who can define that for me?”

  “It’s the way you write, isn’t it?” Vanessa said.

  “Anyone else?” he asked in that way he did when the answer wasn’t the one he was looking for.

  No one else was stupid enough to take the bait.

  “All right,” he said. “Style is the way you write, and that can change. Tone is the way you sound, and that can change.”

  “How’s that, Henry?” The girl had no shame.

  “Can you tell her, Logan?” That shot me into panic mode, and I wondered if he was getting even with me for lying.

  “Well, your tone might be humorous in one piece you write, and serious in another.”

  He nodded and continued staring at me. “And what is voice?”

  “I guess it’s what makes one person’s writing different than anyone else’s. It’s . . . I’m not sure how to say it.”

  “Voice is who you are,” he said, and I couldn’t tell whether or not he had liked my answers. I definitely needed to apologize to him after class. “Your job as a writer is to uncover that voice. For starters, I want you all to write down one thing that you absolutely believe in.”

  I thought about it. What did I absolutely believe in?

  “Candice?” he asked.

  “My wonderful friends, and my guy at home, of course.”

  “Andrea?”

  “My twin.”

  “Darla?”

  Embarrassed smile. “My twin.” Cancers, for sure. All about family.

  “Christopher?”

  Fuzzy-eyed gaze from Pisces Critter. “Being cool.”

  “Brad?”

  Brad Dog rubbed a hand over his shaved head. “Getting published in the magazine.”

  “Dirk?”

  “This girl I know back in London.”

  Now, that was a surprise. Tati and Vanessa both jerked around to look at him, as if thinking they should be the reason.

  “Mariah?”

  “Becoming a writer.”

  “Logan?” he asked.

  “Truth, I guess.”

  “Indeed?” I knew he was probably thinking that was pretty phony coming from someone who had just lied to him. “Jeremy?”

  “Independence.”

  “Another fine answer. Tatiyana?”

  She pushed her hand through her hair. “Roots, I guess.” She laughed and tugged at a purple strand. “And not these.”

  “ Vanessa?”

  “Me,” she said.

  He squinted as if he hadn’t heard. “And by that, you mean?”

  “Me, Henry. I believe in myself more than anything or anyone.”

  “Thank you for clarifying, Vanessa.” He turned to the rest of us. “Take that value, whatever it is, and write about it for the next ten minutes. When you do, you will begin to hear the sound of your own voice. No one will see it. This exercise is just for you.”

  THE SOUND OF MY OWN VOICE

  I know the sound of my own voice. It’s the sound I hear when I walk on t
he beach alone. It’s what I barely remember from a dream, but I know without a doubt, that it is the truth. I started to say Truth with a capital T, but real truth doesn’t need fancy, self-conscious formatting.

  Also, I’m thinking that truth doesn’t come with a The, as in The Truth. It might come with an A, as in A Truth. And my truth might be different from your truth. I am glad no one is going to read this, because I would look like a pathetic loser.

  I do know that I am going to continue my search for the truth I began seeking that first day when Jaffa scattered our topics on the floor. Not just astrology anymore, but Baylor.

  Is this the way I find my voice? By talking about what I can’t begin to understand? Here’s the only answer I can drum up at the moment.

  Maybe.

  We finished the exercise, and Jaffa told us to put our papers away.

  “You should try every day to freewrite on subjects that matter to you,” he said. “It will help you find your true voice, as well as to find out who you really are.”

  Vanessa raised her hand. “Isn’t there an easier way Henry?”

  “Nothing about writing is easy, I’m afraid.”

  “Then why do people do it?”

  “Because we can’t not do it.”

  The class laughed. Tati rolled her eyes at me, and Jeremy glared at nothing.

  “Could I talk to you after class?” Vanessa asked.

  “Of course.” He turned to us. “Does anyone else have questions?”

  All I wanted was a few minutes to apologize to him, and now Vanessa was going to hog all of his time. Jaffa gave me a curt nod as I walked past. We were going to meet tonight, and I knew where. But I still wanted to talk to him right now.

  I lingered outside the door, hoping their exchange would be a brief one.

  “So, Henry, I was wondering why I have to turn in an article.”

  To my horror, the upper window was cracked open, and Vanessa’s voice floated right through it. I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” he told her. “You were determined to be accepted to this workshop, in spite of the fact that you didn’t have a referral from your school. I allowed it only because of my friendship with your father.”

  “But I didn’t want to be here for just the writing. You know that.”

  “I told you, and I told your dad that I have no influence on the other matter. None.”

  If he ever spoke that harshly to me, I would have burst into tears.

  “Well, can’t you try, Henry? Since I came all this way?”

  “I’m hoping you also came all this way, as you put it, to learn about writing. Although I must admit . . .”

  “Henry, look!” she interrupted. “Someone’s hiding outside the door, and the windows are wide open.”

  I tried to leave, but it was too late. In seconds she had rushed out and was throwing an Aries fit.

  “What are you doing out here, Logan? What did you overhear?”

  “Nothing, and calm down, will you? I was waiting for you to finish so that I could speak to Mr. Jaffa.” This time I was telling the truth. I only hoped Jaffa could tell it.

  “Vanessa was just leaving,” he told me. “Let’s go back inside.”

  “I am really leaving, not just pretending to,” she shot back. “So, don’t worry, Logan. I won’t be sticking around to spy on you.”

  NOTES TO SELF

  There are many lovely Aries people in the world, but Vanessa isn’t one of them. Now, it makes sense why a ditz like her even got admitted here. Jaffa is friends with her dad. But why did she want in this workshop if she doesn’t care about writing? What is she really after?

  Once Jaffa and I returned to the room, I apologized to him for lying and telling him I was alone when I got onto the sailboat. He didn’t say that he understood; he didn’t even say that he forgave me. However, he did say he appreciated my “making the effort,” whatever that means.

  Tonight we do our own version of Ghost Seekers, and maybe we’ll get a chance to bond. Right now, though, I need to find the one reporter who met Sean Baylor. But I do think I am beginning to find what Jaffa calls my voice. Maybe that’s a start.

  20

  REGARDLESS OF HOW PASSIVE YOUR SIGN IS, DO NOT

  FEAR FIRE, WATER, AIR, EARTH. DO NOT FEAR.

  INSTEAD, INVESTIGATE AND EXPLORE. MAYBE EVEN

  RELISH THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN YOURSELF AND

  OTHER, EVEN MORE AGGRESSIVE SIGNS.

  —Fearless Astrology

  Mercedes Lloyd-Chambers wasn’t at the newspaper, and my helpful security guard couldn’t tell me when she would be.

  “She comes and goes.” He stepped into the elevator and spoke through the open door. “You’ll probably find her on the beach down by Jack’s Crab Shack. Long hair, and curly like yours.”

  “Thanks.” Before I could ask more, the elevator door slid shut.

  It was warmer than usual on the beach that afternoon, and not many people walked along the strip of sand by Jack’s Crab Shack. I noticed the tall woman with the long gray hair streaming behind at once.

  “Mercedes,” I called out, and hurried to catch up.

  She turned. “You’re Logan, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

  “You’re a pretty girl.” She grinned at me. “Fabulous hair. Never let anyone talk you into straightening it.” I had to laugh. My frizzy hair was almost as wild as hers. And this had to be the strangest greeting I had ever received.

  “I’d love to straighten it,” I said. “Bring on the flat iron.”

  “One day, you’ll adore it.” She raked her fingers through the gray mass that swirled around her head.

  As I looked at her, I realized that she was an original. Although not one of her features would be described as beautiful, together they were striking.

  “I appreciate you meeting me,” I said and took out my notebook. “Sorry I’m late. I went to the newspaper first.”

  “Really? I left a message on your phone.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to check. I just figured you’d be there.”

  “I retired several years ago,” she said. “I still write an occasional column.”

  “But I saw your office.”

  “My former office,” she corrected me. “I’m flattered that a lot of the old timers still think of it as mine. Now, why are you so interested in Sean Baylor?” She sat down at one of the tables outside of the Crab Shack, and I joined her, breathing in the smell of food.

  “Because I’m working with Henry Jaffa at Writers Camp Monterey, and Baylor’s my assignment.”

  “So you don’t have a personal interest in Sean?”

  Should I lie? No, not after what I’d just been through. I’d done enough of that. I wasn’t very good at it, either.

  “To be honest,” I said, “I only heard of him after Henry Jaffa assigned me the topic. My dad did give me an LP of his, though.”

  “Sean Baylor is much more than a college class topic.” Her expression seemed to cloud over, and I knew that I was losing points. “Why would Henry Jaffa want you to write about someone you don’t even care about?”

  “I didn’t say I don’t care about him,” I told her. “I said I hadn’t heard about him until I began studying with Jaffa.”

  “So you do care?”

  “I’m intrigued.” That was the truth, too. Why was I doubting my own honesty, all of a sudden? Even to myself.

  “Intrigued, how?”

  I realized that she had taken charge of the interview, but I didn’t know what to do about it. “The ghost aspect,” I said.

  “I don’t buy that. Do you?”

  “I heard the music.”

  Her body seemed to freeze. Only her hair moved in the wind. “Did you really?”

  I nodded. “Twice. Once in the hotel, and once when I was walking back from the beach to my dorm.” I felt chills along my arm and remembered how terrified I h
ad been. “It was probably the scariest thing that has ever happened to me.”

  “I just don’t believe it,” she said. “Perhaps your imagination . . .”

  “No,” I said. “I really did hear it.”

  “I like to think I have an open mind, okay? But if Sean’s spirit was going to be anywhere, it wouldn’t be at that restaurant or on a piece of beach he never walked when he was alive.”

  “Where would it be?”

  “You’re a good little interviewer.” She almost smiled, but not quite. “It would be the fairgrounds, of course. That was his finest moment.”

  “At the Pop Festival?”

  “Yes. It’s difficult for someone your age to understand, but we were not much older than you are right now. Some of those kids who played at that festival became the most gifted musicians of our generation.”

  “I know,” I said and tried to impress her with my research. “Simon and Garfunkel, Janis Joplin, Sean Baylor.”

  “All playing together.” She looked down at her clasped hands on the table. “And too many of them died too young.”

  “And you believe that’s where his spirit is?”

  “If it is anywhere, yes.”

  “And not on the sailboat?”

  She stiffened in her chair. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because when I went there, people who lived on one of the other boats said they had heard his music.”

  “The boat.” She put her hand over her lips and squinted into the sun. Then she leaned across the table and stared into my eyes. “They really think he’s there?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “That’s just what the couple I met there told me.” I was careful not to say the couple we met.

  “The sister owns the boat now. Her name is Ren. She is not a nice person.”

  “I discovered that,” I told her. “She doesn’t want anyone asking questions or writing about Sean.”

  “Then that much hasn’t changed. You seem like a nice kid, Logan, but I don’t know how I can help you. Sean Baylor was a talented singer with very modest ambitions. If you quote me, I guess you could say that. The music came first with him, not the career.”