by June Ahern
June knew there would be a lot of trouble if her daddy found out about the cards. Annie had warned her many times. She put a finger against her tightly closed lips.
As soon as the tinkling bells announced her mother’s departure, June scampered across to Mrs. G to sit snugly next to her. Mrs. G picked up the cards, shuffled them three times and once again fanned them out across the table. June gingerly touched a few. She took a deep breath and became calm.
“You like, but Daddy no like,” Mrs. G said. June’s round eyes looked up at Mrs. G seriously, nodding in agreement.
“I know. My husband, he not like the cards either. Ahh, men! So afraid of women’s magic.” The old lady laughed heartily. “Oh well,” she said, tilting her head at June. “You, my little friend, you see much, eh? You are like me, profetka.”
The first time June heard the Polish word, she liked the sound of it. When Mrs. G explained it meant “a visionary,” she felt good someone believed in her special ability. In time she became used to her friend saying Polish words. Without knowing why, she always seemed to understand what they meant. To June it was as though they had a secret language between them.
“Come, I show you how to see more,” Mrs. G said as she lit a white candle. “Look at the flame.”
The two sat quietly gazing at the flame, hand in hand. The wise old teacher taught her young student how to conjure up an image while keeping her eyes on the flame.
“Let the pictures come to you,” she instructed. After a few minutes she asked June to tell her what she saw.
June began to see images take shape. Dreamily, she mumbled a few words about her Mommy and Daddy going up a very big hill. When another picture formed in her mind––a large white house with a dark trim––she said excitedly, “We have a big house! That’s our new home, huh?”
The two seers looked knowingly at each other with wide-eyes. June knew Mrs. G had the same vision.
The amber beads of Mrs. G’s earrings jangled when she nodded her head with approval. “Good. You learning.” She cleared the vision away with a swoop of her hand over the flame.
“I saw my angel again,” June said.
With a penetrating gaze, Mrs. G touched the girl’s vibrant hair. “Your angel have hair like you. Yes?”
June nodded in agreement.
“She wants your mother to see her, too,” said Mrs. G.
“Mommy says she’s only my imagination. I’m not to talk about her anymore because Daddy will smack my bum if I tell any more stories.”
June confided in Mrs. G about how angry her mother would get over her stories, especially the one about making daisy chains with her angel on the hill. She insisted it wasn’t a dream, but a place she really went to be with her angel. Mrs. G explained she shouldn’t say anything at this time about her angel because her mother wasn’t ready to remember certain days gone by.
Still, Mrs. G assured June that her angel was not her imagination. “You, she, good friends. Someday you be together. I see this. You and your angel are duchy siostrzane. Understand?”
Feeling a tingling throughout her body, June nodded. Once again as before, without knowing Polish, she had a good sense of what Mrs. G had said; she and her angel were indeed spirit sisters.
“Always know this June, you and I, friends forever. My spirit mingles with your spirit. Now we too are duchy siostrzane.”
Her friend was so serious that June felt frightened, until the old woman smiled warmly and tenderly patted the little girl’s cheek. Mrs. G picked up a family photo and said, “I miss my husband and sons.”
“They miss you, too. Before we go to our new house, you can go home to them,” the little seer predicted, pointing at the photo.
Surrounded by tarot cards and swirling incense, the two sat quietly. Mrs. G took hold of her little friend’s hand and closed her eyes, tears seeping through.
June knew she was remembering happier days before the war. “Soon that pain there,” June said, gently placing her small hands over her old friend’s heart, “won’t hurt anymore.”
* * * * *
Chapter 19
THE AMERICAN DREAM
JUNE 1, 1955
THE BLACK FORD station wagon carried the MacDonald family up the hills of Castro Street toward their new home on Liberty Street. The girls sat in the backseat chatting with excitement. They counted out loud the numbered streets they drove by, starting with Seventeenth Street. Their car, filled with moving boxes and furniture piled on top, chugged up the steep hills past Twentieth Street. The next street was where their new home would be.
The station wagon, heavy with the load, weaved a bit. Jimmy over-compensated his left turn from Castro onto Liberty Street. The girls squealed and laughed loudly as they rolled against each other in the backseat.
Jimmy straightened out the car and then a loud bump alerted the family that the boxes on top of the car were loose.
Liberty Street greeted them with a variety of colorful homes ranging in style from Victorian to Edwardian. The large two-story Victorians had ornate carvings around the frames of their long windows. The smaller Edwardians were almost cottage-like next to the larger Victorians. Most houses had lots of colorful flowers in full summer bloom. The street was not wide and busy like Market Street. It was quiet, with only a few cars parked outside the homes. An elderly couple came out of one of the smaller houses, which had a garden of deep red, hot pink, and yellow roses.
“Are we almost there, Daddy?” Mary called out.
Unable to contain his pride, Jimmy pointed up the street towards the sudden rise of a short steep hill. “It’s just up that hill is our new home.”
He stopped the car and jumped out to tighten the cargo on top of the car.
The day the papers for the house were finalized Cathy had told the girls what a big blessing it was for the MacDonald family. If they had stayed in Glasgow, it was likely the family would never have been able to buy a house; certainly not one like the one they had just purchased.
At the second house from the corner of Liberty Street, two women in their early thirties moved a frayed brown couch up the stairs of a Victorian. The woman pushing the couch was short with a trim body that moved nicely beneath her jeans and striped colored shirt. Her long, thick chestnut hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. She called out directions to the other woman to maneuver the couch past a curve in the stairs.
“For God’s sake, Bernice, you’re letting it slip back on me!”
“Okay, okay, Sadie,” said the taller woman pulling the couch.
The MacDonald family watched them. The tall woman reminded Cathy of Nurse Hamilton, the Highlander nurse who had the same wide-shouldered body. Cathy could tell from Sadie’s dark glaring eyes that she was exasperated with their progress.
The various blue colors painted on their Victorian reminded June of the ocean and she immediately felt akin to the two women. She wondered if these neighbors would become her friends.
Two children unloaded an old battered truck filled with boxes and furniture. The girl, who was about nine-years-old, had the same spirited look as Sadie, the shorter woman, although the girl was as skinny as a rail. She had light brown hair cut short with long bangs hanging low just above her dark eyes. The boy, who looked about June’s age, had dark chestnut hair, like Sadie’s.
“Mom! Tell Brian to help me! He’s so weak!” yelled the girl, struggling to get a small wooden table out of the truck.
“Hold your horses, Jeannie Callaghan! I’ll be right there,” Sadie called back.
Jimmy leaned his head into the station wagon and said, “Looks like move-in day for them, too. I’d say those women need my help.”
The girls whispered to each other, wondering what he was going to do. As he walked toward the women, Annie rolled down the window to hear what would come next.
“Just moving in, eh? Here ladies, I’ll give you a hand,” he said, pushing up his sleeves as he crossed the street. The women looked at him briefly, but kept on with their
task.
“Why don’t you call your men out and we’ll get this up in no time.” Jimmy moved up a step closer to Sadie.
Sadie burst out laughing. “We are the men here. But, thanks anyway.” She looked over to the MacDonalds’ car and said, “Looks like you’ve got a move-in job yourselves. We’ll come over and help you when we’re done.”
“No. No. Couldn’t ask you ladies to do that,” Jimmy said, backing away from her. He quickly retreated to the car.
June had never seen the odd, perplexed look on her father’s face before.
“Queer lot, them,” he mumbled, looking back at Brian who shyly ducked his head away from the staring girls. “Better keep the girls away from them,” he added. “That poor wee fellow.”
June wondered why her father said that about the boy. As the car started off up Liberty Street, Brian’s eyes locked with June’s. His face turned a crimson hue from embarrassment at seeing her looking at him, but he didn’t turn away from her. Their friendship began on that day.
The family drove up the hill and stopped in front of one of the large two-story Victorian houses near the top of the street. It was newly painted white with dark rust trim. Alongside the house, in full bloom, were hydrangea bushes in white, pale lavender, and pink that accentuated the crisp cleanliness of the house.
The family got out of the car and stared up at it. It was a grand house.
June watched the colors around her father’s body change from a murky brown to soft green. She knew how to read his emotion from the colors. Mrs. G had taught her how to match emotions with the colors from the aura energy surrounding people. She had explained that understanding a person’s feelings would help her to know how to act toward that person. The green around her father was a good sign. It told her, her father was hopeful about their new home and not worried as indicated by the darker color.
A tear rolled out of June’s eye. She missed Mrs. G so much. Everyone in her family was too enthralled with the new house to mourn when Mrs. G had passed on in her sleep a month ago. Only June grieved openly for her old friend.
Tesia had asked Jimmy and Cathy to join her, her husband and a small group of Polish friends to say their final goodbyes at a gravesite ceremony. The girls stayed home with Annie. They had gone down to the garden to say a prayer for Mrs. G. June had felt a bit of comfort, being in the garden where the two had shared so many happy times together. After the funeral Tesia invited the MacDonald family downstairs for refreshments. When a guest remarked that Mrs. G’s passing was for the best, since she was so sad, June yelled at him, “No! We were happy!” Jimmy quickly scooped her up in his muscular arms and apologized for the outburst by explaining that it was way past her bedtime.
June had been inconsolable for days, until Mrs. G appeared next to her bed one night.
“We’re not apart,” Mrs. G reminded her. “At new house, go to the garden, out to the biggest tree. There I will be smiling at you.”
June had stopped crying although she still missed her friend.
“Oh, Jimmy, the color is perfect. You’ve done good,” Cathy said, admiring the new house and giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. He turned from her and hid a pleased smile.
“Holy mackerel! It’s like the movies,” Mary said as she looked up at the house.
“Gee, Daddy, this house is so big,” Annie said, taking in the long broad stairs leading up to the two-storied house.
“Look, a garage,” Maggie said, pointing.
“And there’s a big basement. That’s where I’ll put my new washing machine,” said Cathy, merrily.
In a rare moment of Cathy being deeply fulfilled, June caught a glimpse of her mother’s bright yellow aura like the rays of the sun.
The sisters all chattered about their beautiful new house. Only June stayed quiet. She was overwhelmed and couldn’t say anything.
“Alright girls, everyone grab a box,” their father said.
“I’ll go on up and unlock the door,” Cathy said, taking a suitcase with her.
June followed her mother carrying a small box that she had held onto in the car.
Maggie moved to pick up a little box, but Annie got to it first. She tucked it under one arm and took hold of a suitcase.
As a result, Maggie was stuck helping Mary with a larger heavy box. After some effort, the girls lifted it and strained to keep it aloft between them. Then Maggie dropped her end.
“Jeez. Pick it up, sissy,” Mary said laughing at her sister. When they lifted the box again Maggie let out a whiny “huff” as she struggled with it.
“That’s too heavy for you, hen,” their father said to Maggie. “Annie, give that smaller box to Maggie then come and grab that end.”
Maggie dropped her end sharply and gave Mary a satisfied look. The box fell on Mary’s toes. She stifled a yelp, swallowing her anger at her sister. Her father slapped her shoulder playfully.
“You’re like a strong, wee laddie,” Jimmy said to Mary, laughing as he headed up the stairs with the chairs in hand.
“I’m not a boy. I hate him,” Mary said, glaring at her father’s back as she and Annie picked up the heavy box.
“Mother Superior says ‘hate’ is a strong word. Don’t say it. Come on, let’s go,” Annie said, taking steps toward the house. Mary scowled at her.
Near the top of the ten broad stairs leading up to the front door, June began to daydream about the room she’d be sharing with Mary. Neither the stairs nor the box she carried was on her mind. All she could see were pictures of her own bed and her altar floating through her head. Even though her box was small, it was large enough to keep her from seeing over the top of it. She stumbled when her toe got caught on a step. She regained her balance and readjusted her grip on the box.
“Watch where you’re going,” Jimmy said, coming up behind her.
Her foot caught again on the last step, causing her to drop the box. The contents of the box sprayed across the front porch as she fell onto her knees. Her mother turned around and what she saw stunned her.
Standing on the step behind her, Jimmy stared at a crimson silk scarf and tarot cards scattered across the porch––lying on the threshold of their new home, mocking him.
“What the bloody hell are those?” he asked glaring at his little girl.
His powerful arm swooped down and grabbed a few cards in his fist, holding them close to her face.
Her frightened eyes slowly looked up at him.
“Where’d you get these, you wee pagan?” he snarled at June.
“They’re mine!” Annie and Mary called out in unison from behind.
“Lying wee bitches!” Jimmy shouted over his shoulder in their direction.
He turned around and found his wife standing frozen in the doorway. “You, Cathy, did you know about these––these bloody devil things?”
Cathy looked back and forth from the girls to him. She swallowed hard. “I think those were left behind when Mrs. G died. June must have…um…must have made a mistake. How’s she to know what they are? She’s only a wee girl.”
“Aye, a wee girl that’ll grow up a lying, thieving, bloody tinker! Get these things out of my sight. Here you two, take them out back to the bin,” Jimmy said shoving the cards at Mary and Annie.
They hurriedly dropped their box on the porch and began to scoop up the cards.
It wasn’t a mistake, June wanted to say to her parents, but her father was so angry she knew better than to speak. She had heard Tesia tell her mother that Mrs. G wanted June to have the tarot cards.
Nervously, Annie and Mary rushed to the backyard to find a metal drum. Their father stormed out behind them. According to Jimmy, it was June’s destiny to burn in hell. He ranted on about the evil of his pagan daughter as he dragged her by the arm to the backyard.
“And any of you girls who go along with this will burn in hell, too,” he said, spitting out the words.
He threw June forward, forcing her to stumble onto her knees. Trembling, she didn’t know if
it was the beating or losing her cards that scared her most. Either way, she was filled with fear. She saw an angry, blood-red energy exploding around her father.
Cathy came to the back door, praying the situation wouldn’t worsen. She saw Jimmy’s face flush a deep red and knew he was seething with anger. He would be blind to any reason. Recently, when June had said that Mrs. G visited her in a dream the night of her death, Jimmy had demanded that June stop all the malarkey about seeing dead people and talking to angels. Cathy had reminded him that some people were fey. That was superstitious, he had told her.
“I’ll have no disrespect against our Church. You’re a disgrace. All of you,” he ranted.
He rummaged through his jacket and found matches. June tried desperately to grab at the cards still on the ground. “No,” she whimpered. Through her sobs, she looked up at him helplessly as he grabbed the few cards in her hands. She silently prayed to Our Lady to stop him.
He struck a match and tossed it into the metal drum. The tarot cards easily caught fire, one by one. Devastated, the crying child watched the brilliant colors burst into flames. In a moment of final desperation, she reached out a hand toward the drum in hopes of saving some. Instead, her father caught her hand and pushed her to her knees. He held her down by the scruff of her neck.
“I’ll no have you bring the Devil into my house,” he told her. “You better pray, girl, before the Devil takes you away to burn in hell!”
June cried louder. Maggie clung to her mother’s waist, whimpering, witnessing the vicious act. Cathy pushed Maggie away and rushed down the back steps “Jimmy! JIMMY! Please. Oh Mother of God! Please. She’s only a wean!”
“Yeah? Well, wait ‘til the nuns get hold of her. She’ll grow up right fast.”
He thrust June down toward the ground and slapped her head fiercely before stomping back toward the house. At the edge of the steps he abruptly stopped and stared into his wife’s face. “You’re turning them against me, aren’t you? You’re teaching the girls how to keep secrets, aren’t you? Well, you’re good at that, eh?”
