by Amber Foxx
“I was afraid of that. I don’t want them to know it worked. They’d be manipulating me.”
“Go out and holler. Let ’em know it’s not a game.”
“I can’t. Ronnie would hear. And Reverend Daniels.” The Baptist preacher lived on the other side. “I can’t have them thinking I lost Hubert’s kids.”
“You didn’t lose them if they’re hiding.”
“What if they did run away?”
“Were they that mad at you?”
“Yes.” Jen began to cry. “They want you. They don’t want me.”
“Then you’d better call Jim and Sallie in case the girls took off for their place.”
“They wouldn’t dare. On that road, at night? There are no lights. It’s just woods until you get to the farm.”
“I hope they wouldn’t, but those kids are scared of nothing.”
“I should just drive and see.”
“Don’t leave the house. They could decide to stop hiding and then they’d be home alone.”
“I don’t want to call. Jim and Sallie already think I’m a terrible stepmother.”
“You care more what people think than—” Mae cut off her explosion. She had to focus on the twins, not Jen. “I’ll try to find them. But you’d better be trying, too. Even if you have to look bad to somebody or crawl under the house.” Mae ended the call.
That counselor had better be good.
Taking one of the children’s drawings that she had taped to the kitchen wall, Mae went into the spare room and sat on the bed. She was so distracted and upset, she wasn’t sure she could concentrate. I have to. She opened the closet and got one of the geodes out. It was powerful, full of amethyst points, and Stream had loved it. To settle her mind further, Mae imagined her grandmother’s hands holding the rock and the picture with her. Granma, help me. I can hardly think straight. The feeling that Rhoda-Sue Jackson was guiding her came through strongly. Maybe Mae was making it up, but it was like she heard her speaking words of reassurance.
The tunnel that signaled a psychic trance pulled Mae’s inner vision through darkness and fog. When the fog cleared and the tunnel opened, she still saw darkness. Brook and Stream were walking on the unlit, wooded road, holding hands. They’d thrown on sneakers and jackets with their pajamas. With no illumination but the stars, Mae couldn’t see their faces, and their voices were so alike it was hard to tell who was talking.
“Will they hear us, you think? Grampa Jim snores.”
“The dogs will bark.”
“At us? They know us.”
“We could bark.” One of them woofed and the other laughed.
“I wish we could go all the way to Grampa Arnie’s. He would let us call Mama.”
“We could take the four-wheeler. I saw where Grampa Jim hides the key.”
Mae almost lost her focus, but she had to hear the rest of this. Jim had a small all-terrain vehicle he used for maintaining the trails in the woods. Had he shown the girls how to drive it? Farm kids learned all sorts of things, but Mae hoped this wasn’t one of them, and that they were just being overconfident as usual.
“That would be stealing.” This sounded like something Stream would say. “We’re gonna be in enough trouble without stealing.”
“Not if we explain.”
Explaining that Jen was trying to discipline them was not going to keep them out of trouble, even if Jen’s idea of punishment was unwise. Mae’s heart went out to the girls for being so unhappy with Jen, though their reaction was out of proportion to her offense. If only Mae could sit down and talk it through with them, but that was something Hubert, or his parents, or the family therapist would have to do.
Headlights illuminated the road. Mae’s heart thumped. Would the driver see the twins? See them and then do what, with two little girls on a country road at night? The lights aimed at the children, and the car slowed down and pulled up in front of them.
A Bertie County Sheriff’s Department car.
Brook gasped, “Jen’s having us arrested!”
Stream’s eyes widened. “Can she?”
Had Jen called the cops? The car door opened and a stocky young black woman got out. Yolanda Cherry. She’d been in the same high school class as Mae and Jen. Her manner was both stern and worried. “What are y’all doing out here?”
“Hey, Miss Yolanda.” Brook put on a smile. “We wanted to take a walk in the dark.”
“I see. In your PJs. And where were you walking?”
“To Grampa Jim and Granma Sallie’s place.”
“Does your daddy know you’re doing this?”
Getting no reply, Yolanda opened her car and told the children to sit in back. “Where the people I arrest go. And once you’re in there, you’re going to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Is that clear?”
The twins, still holding hands, walked to the car. Stream said softly, looking down at the ground, “Yes, Miss Yolanda.”
Mae closed the vision and called Jen. “Did you call the police?”
“No.” Jen whispered. “I’m in Ronnie’s yard again.”
“I reckon Yolanda was just patrolling for drunk drivers, then. She found ’em. They did run off.”
“Oh no. Oh no.” Jen’s whisper turned into a squeak. “Let me head home.” A pause, a door opening and closing, and then Jen spoke at a normal volume. “Is she bringing them here?”
“I don’t know. As soon as I was sure they were safe, I called you. But they told her they were on their way to Jim and Sallie’s.”
“Oh my god. What happens to me if—”
“What happens to you?” Mae shot to her feet and paced back and forth across the room. “Have you thought about what could have happened to them? My girls ran away in the middle of the night because you can’t get along with ’em well enough to—”
“I got on fine with them until they went to visit you. So don’t blame me. And don’t call them yours. They aren’t.” Jen hung up.
Shaking, Mae dropped back onto the bed. The bed where Brook and Stream had slept. They’d been so happy with her. Was Jen going to try to keep them away from her? Did she think that would solve her problems?
Chapter Fourteen
A dark fringed shawl draped over the table and soft light through half-closed curtains gave Kate’s living room the ambiance fortune-telling clients expected. She stacked the Tarot cards beside her crystal ball, dreading her next customer. Kate would have preferred never to meet the irritating woman again, but she couldn’t turn down business. Maybe she would see something that would enlighten her, if that was possible.
In response to a timid tap on the door, Kate called, “Come in, it’s open.”
Posey entered with a tiny dog tucked into her purse. A whiff of cheap perfume came with her, and Kate was glad she had her windows open. Lobo ignored the little dog, but it went into yapping hysterics at the sight of him. Posey babbled, “Is Baby excited? Does Baby like the big doggie?”
“Perhaps,” Kate said, “Baby could wait outside.”
Posey looked startled. “He’ll settle down in a few minutes.”
“I’d rather not”— have my eardrums shattered for another second—“have you distracted by him. The yard is enclosed.”
Posey set her purse down and scooped the dog out, her baby-talk endearments drowned out by his shrill barks, and carried him outside. Kate was surprised to notice a designer name on the bag. With her dated hairstyle and her dress that reminded Kate of a little girl on an Easter egg hunt, Posey didn’t seem to have any sense of style. The purse probably came from a consignment shop. Kate often found fashionable clothes at such places. Posey could have, too, but she clung to her cute-and-adorable-ness, unaware it had expired when she left kindergarten.
Posey returned and sat by the table, knees together, head cocked to the side. “I feel so close to Baby. Because of my past life as a dog. And of course, the whole not-having-babies thing. I didn’t ever mean to name him Baby. I just kept calling h
im that.”
Because he reminds you of your puppies? “Have you done a past life regression? Past life astrology? Anything to compare with what Sierra said?”
“No.” Posey’s eyes grew round. “I’d be overwhelmed if I knew more.”
“It can be even more overwhelming to see the future.” Kate gave Posey time for her words to sink in. When she saw no sign that they did, only the same anxious stare, she asked, “Did you come with a particular question in mind?”
“I think so.” Posey’s head tipped the other way. “How do you answer it?”
“Three ways. A Tarot spread, a palm reading, and the crystal ball. Some clients want only the cards, though, so I can do a specific spread based on what they want to know.”
Posey shuddered. “I don’t like Tarot cards. There are very disturbing pictures on some of them.”
“The ones that look the most troubling don’t necessarily have terrible meanings. And if there’s bad stuff in your future, seeing the cards won’t change it. They connect with its pattern, and then you can act to change it.”
Posey fidgeted with her long, lace-edged sleeves. “My question is about a man. We met online through Spiritual Singles. He’s very charming, but he just quit smoking after forty years. I wonder if he’ll be around.”
“You’re asking about his future, then?”
“Well, yes. He’s fifty-five, after all.”
“I can’t read his future for you, only yours. I might see if there’s a man in your life in the coming years, but not if that man is him. If you’re afraid he’s going to drop dead because he smoked for so long, I can’t tell you.”
“Oh.” Posey crossed her ankles and smoothed her skirt. “I’m not sure what I want to know, then. I guess I could ask about my future in general.” Her voice rose at the end of her sentences, converting her statements into questions. “Health, money, love.”
“All right. We’ll start with the simple three-card spread. Shuffle and cut the cards, then pick three without looking at them and lay them face up in a row that goes from me toward you.”
Posey dithered over pulling three cards, her eyes closed, displaying lids caked with thick blue and purple eyeshadow that matched the flowers in her dress. Can someone with makeup that bad really be an artist? She finally laid the cards out, face down, and sighed.
Kate turned over the one closest to her. The three of swords. Perhaps the most negative card in the deck, it showed a heart pierced by three swords. Posey gasped. “It’s one of those dreadful ones.”
“It’s about your past, though. The first card is the past, the second the present, and the third the future.”
“My past lives?”
“No. Your past in this life. You may have suffered from grief, depression, or the loss of a job or relationships.”
Posey nodded. “My karmic baggage made me go through all of that. I’ve been divorced three times. And I had to stop working as a hairdresser because of my chronic pain. It was very sad. I loved my work.”
“Then I don’t need to interpret this card for you.” Kate had the impression that Posey was sadder about her work than her husbands. But then, the little flower-fairy was hot on the scent of number four. “You see why you drew it.”
“Yes,” Posey whispered mournfully. “I’ve had a very hard life.”
Kate turned over the middle card. “This represents your current life situation.” It was the five of cups, an image of a bowed, cloaked figure with three spilled goblets at his feet and two upright goblets nearby. “You may be paying too much attention to your losses and ignoring what you still have.” She could hear AA old-timers in her head, repeating the sayings that knocked sense into newcomers. Get off the pity pot. Have an attitude of gratitude. “The man in the picture is crying over spilt milk. Or wine. If this is a question about health, you might be overidentified with the sick role. If it’s about love, you might be thinking too much about your divorces. If it’s about work, you may be focused on what you did before rather than what you can do now. And you could be dwelling too much on your past lives instead of the one you’re living. That’s a strong possibility.”
Posey frowned. “I have to pay attention to my past lives. That’s how I’ll heal my health problems. Sierra says we need to dig into our dirt, from our present life and the ones before. You remember your ceremony. You fought it. You wouldn’t look. But if you do, it’s the first step to healing.”
Judging from Posey’s whiny, fearful outlook, the cards knew more than Sierra did. However, Kate usually didn’t argue with a client during a reading. She turned the third card, revealing the Devil reversed.
Posey moaned, hands to her cheeks. “Another one of the bad ones.”
“When it’s reversed, it’s more like a wake-up call. You may have financial problems or your health may not improve, but you don’t have to let it drag your whole life down. Look at the people you surround yourself with. If you’re having trouble being positive, see if people are nitpicking or attacking you, or if you’re being undermined spiritually.”
“Oh, no, I’m being supported. Sierra says we can change everything when we work through our karma. Like she did. So why would I get this awful card?”
“It’s not awful. It’s advice. Are you sure you’re getting real support from this group?”
“Of course I am. We’re not ...” Posey chewed her lip. “We’re not an emotional support group. We’re a karmic support group. We have work to do. The next stage in Sierra’s soul group’s karma is the retreat center she and Yeshi plan to start.”
Holy shit. Was the support group a money-making scam after all? “Do members of the soul group give to the retreat center?”
“They aren’t the only ones. I give a little from every sale I make. But their karma has made them more successful in this life than the rest of us, and more seriously ill. They have more responsibilities and more burdens. Magda is very generous. I’m not in the soul group, so compared to her and Leon, I’m not as able or as strongly called.”
Did able and strongly called mean rich? “What kind of shop does Leon run?”
“One of those very expensive clothing stores on the Plaza. Such beautiful things. I could never afford them, but I love to look.”
“Where do you sell your art? Which galleries?”
“I sell it online.” Posey handed Kate a lavender business card with Poesy by Posey in blue script. “I do poems in calligraphy to order, with illustrations. Flowers, angels, things like that. Do you have a favorite poem? I could do it for you instead of paying cash.”
“Thanks, but I don’t barter.” Was Posey broke or just dense? Surely she should have noticed that Kate was not the flowers-and-angels type. Seeing Posey’s crushed expression, Kate changed the subject. “For the next part of the reading, I need to look at your dominant hand first, and then the other.”
Posey turned her right hand palm up on the table. Kate took her time to examine the lines and mounts and the overall hand shape, and then studied the left. An oval, long-fingered water hand type, introverted and not assertive. On both hands, Posey’s heart line began under her middle finger, suggesting someone who was selfish in love. The head line was broken, a sign of inconsistent thinking. Her life line was close to the thumb, indicating a lack of energy and vigor. Posey’s fate line suggested she let herself be dominated by outside forces, and her marriage line was short and didn’t reach the heart line. She wasn’t going to like what Kate had to tell her.
Posey scooted forward on her chair. “Does it look promising for me and Rex? He’s the man I met through Spiritual Singles.”
This had to be Mae’s client, the one she’d been afraid would get dragged into Sierra’s group. “I’m sorry, but no. I don’t see this new relationship lasting. You don’t seem to be cut out for romantic commitment.”
“Pooh. I just need the right person to make me bloom.” Posey stuck her chest out defiantly, hands clasped in her lap. “It’s always worked that way.”
&nbs
p; And you got divorced from all those right people. Kate continued, “Your hand says you’re imaginative but not a logical thinker. And you’re shy. This can make you turn to people you think are stronger.”
Posey bowed her head. Her right thumb rubbed the left with a pressure that blanched her nail. What had made her uncomfortable?
Kate prodded, “Did what I said resonate for you?”
“I do like to be around strong people.” Posey looked up with her customary tilted head and a faint smile. “I hope Rex is as strong as I think he is. That’s part of what I look for in a man.”
And what’s the other part, money? Clingy and needy, Posey might want to be taken care of financially as well as emotionally.
A pickup truck pulled up outside and Baby launched into a squealy bark-fest. Kate glanced through the aperture in the curtains to see Tim walking across the yard toward the side of the house. Good. He’d remembered he was supposed to use the back door if the curtains were partly closed. One of the challenges of moving in together was her working at home. She sent Lobo to shut the door to the living room.
“Do you have another client?” Posey asked.
“No, that’s my boyfriend getting home. Are you ready for the crystal ball reading?”
Posey didn’t seem to hear the question. “How long have you and your boyfriend been together?”
“We’ve known each other longer, but we’ve been a couple for a year and half.”
“Are you going to get married?” Posey beamed as if marriage was the most magical, fairy-tale thing imaginable.
“Eventually. After my three-year sobriety anniversary. He’ll have had over three years by then, too.”
“I can’t imagine waiting that long to marry someone I loved. I’m a hopeless romantic.”
Hopeless is right. “Are you ready for the crystal ball reading now?”
“Oh, yes. What do I do?”
“Focus on the ball.” Kate drew off the black cloth that covered it. “Send your energy into it. You won’t see anything, but if you concentrate on sharing yourself with it, I’ll see more. If you have a specific question, now would be a good time to think about it.”
