by Amber Foxx
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Mmm.” Jamie’s shoulders wriggled. “Not much sleep, y’know?” He dropped the sucked-bare melon rind into a trash can, wiped his chin on a napkin, and then wiped his hands on his pants. “’Scuse me, need coffee.”
He filled a cup, slurped from it, refilled it, and sat on the stool again, then changed to a chair, lower and closer to eye level with Kate. But he didn’t meet her eyes, taking his phone from his pocket, turning it on and checking messages. Something he heard made him tense up and turn away from her.
“Sorry.” Jamie put his phone away. “So ...uh ... how are you doing with your dolphin karma?”
She managed to restrain her laughter and took a few sips of coffee. He’d asked it so straight-faced. “I’m not sure yet. Bernice ...” She paused, hoping the reminder sank in. “Bernice is curious about that story. Maybe we’ll learn something this weekend.”
“Think I will, too. Soul group meeting.” He bit his thumb knuckle, eyes narrowed. “Jeezus.”
“Can you handle the meeting? Act like—” Kate had almost forgotten that Jamie was half-convinced. “Do you think you might actually be in her soul group?”
“Dunno.” He rubbed his neck and then drew his hand away abruptly, shaking his hair with a shudder. “Reckon it’s possible.”
Kate glanced around to see if other members of this supposed group might overhear if she tried to dissuade him. Magda and Leon had settled on the couch, fully absorbed in their discussion. Yeshi leaned on the breakfast bar, conversing with several participants. Across the room, Sierra was standing in a cluster with Posey, Don, and Rex, who was enthusing loudly about the investments that had helped him retire early. None of the believers was paying attention to Kate and Jamie. She was safe prodding him to question Sierra. “What did you think of her yoga class?”
“Wouldn’t call that a class. She wasn’t teaching.”
No kidding. “You looked interested in what everyone else was doing. Could you have taught it better?”
“Me? Nah, been practicing for less than year. Never seen that kind of yoga before, either. I was looking at something else.”
Of course. He’d been scanning the group during the lecture, also. “What was it?”
He chewed on his knuckle again. “I have this,” he looked into her eyes and said in an undertone, “guide. It was ... I could see it.”
Kate knew Jamie had studied with the shaman Gaia Greene, so his seeing a spirit guide didn’t particularly surprise her. It seemed to have surprised him more. “Did you mean to call it in?”
“Nah. Just shows up. Been coming around since that workshop where we met Sierra.” A pained look crossed his face, and he took a breath. “Sorry. Fight with Mae. Just saying ‘we’ ... thinking of us ...” He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. The guide. I only felt it before. It’s my late cat, William. He’d touch me, y’know? But this morning, dunno if it’s because of all the chanting, that it kind of changed my boundaries or something, I could see him. He was walking around checking people out.”
“Are you sure he’s a guide? Not your personal ghost?”
“Yeah. He’s been trying to tell me something. If he was my pet ghost, he’d have been around since he died. I was seeing spirits all the time back then, so I’d have seen him if he was there.”
“So, your guide was walking around ... trying to tell you what?”
“Dunno. He skipped Sierra and Bern—Bernice and Posey, but he sniffed everyone else or rubbed on them a little. He really liked Chuck Brady.”
“Who?”
“Bloke I was talking with. Older guy in the tie-dyed shirt.” Jamie’s phone emitted a burble of classical music. He answered, then said after a pause, “Thanks so much for calling back ... No, please, I’d rather hear it from you. Jeezus. You make better eye contact over the phone than she does in person.” He nodded to Kate, muttered his excuses, and hastened outside.
Kate found Bernadette in the group gathered around Yeshi and asked her for a private talk.
They moved out to the courtyard. Jamie was huddled on the bench below the laughing Buddha, his phone pressed to his ear. His free hand gripping the opposite shoulder so tightly his elbows crossed, he rocked as he listened, head bowed. Kate didn’t have to hear a word to know something was wrong.
She exchanged glances with Bernadette. They needed to talk about him, but first, they should talk to him. Jamie ended his call, and Kate let Bernadette take the lead. Nurturing was not Kate’s strong point. Bernadette sat beside him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Do you need to talk?”
“Don.” Jamie hugged himself, eyes closed, still rocking. “Need Dr. Don.”
In a grassy riverside park with a gazebo-style bandstand in the center, Kate lengthened Lobo’s lead so he could explore. Across the river was the mountain with the turtle shape on its crest, the image from her crystal ball. Posey had floated as Ophelia in this stretch of river. Kate didn’t like to share clients’ readings, so she said nothing to Bernadette, but the recognition gave her a sense of dread. Something bad was going to happen to that silly woman. And something bad had already happened to Jamie. His quietness, his lack of appetite, and then this phone call.
“I wish Jamie had talked with you,” Kate said. “I’m afraid he’s falling under Sierra’s spell. I think he’s sick or depressed. He had a fight with Mae, so it could be both, and Sierra could take advantage of that. We wanted him to be the eyes and ears in that soul group meeting, but now he might get pulled under instead.”
“Don should be able to help him. I hope.” Bernadette had fetched Don from the Loft, and the doctor had invited Jamie to his room to talk. “I’m glad Jamie trusts him. Something was definitely, seriously wrong.”
“If it’s his health, that could be why he’s starting to think he’s in that soul group.”
“I can’t see Jamie accepting Sierra’s ideas. He’s been all over Asia when he was a kid, with his father’s research into shamanism. He should be able to tell the difference between a real seer and a fraud.”
“But she’s not doing shamanic work. And he’s in a weird place emotionally. I don’t like him going to that meeting and getting drawn further in. We need a strategy that bypasses him if we have to, to find out what’s going on.”
“Maybe Don is one of the newfound soul group members. Or that couple who are Mae and Jamie’s friends. The Bradys. I know I won’t be, if they all have chronic illnesses. Or if she chooses people with money.”
“And if that doesn’t work out?” Kate stopped while Lobo sniffed his way into the weeds and bushes on the riverbank. “We’ll have to think of some way to keep Jamie from that meeting, for his sake.”
“Maybe it will be far-fetched enough that he’ll see through it. And that would kill two birds with one stone. He’d be more convinced if he changed his own mind.”
“That’s what he’s already done. Talked himself into believing her. We should keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s all right. Aren’t you worried about him?”
“Of course I am. But I think he’s in good hands with Don.” Bernadette shaded her eyes from the sun, looking at the river rather than at Kate. “I always got the impression you didn’t like Jamie.”
“I don’t. He drives me up a wall. And I can’t stand Posey, that little flowery blonde woman. She’s an idiot. But Sierra’s got her hooked into what’s practically a cult. I like to think Jamie’s too smart for that, but those other people, Leon and Magda, they seem intelligent and they’re in it. Smart, successful people who hate modern medicine.”
“Modern medicine. I forgot. That means Don won’t be in the soul group.”
Kate called Lobo back as he ventured to the edge of the water. He returned to her side and they resumed their progress along the path. Kate briefly wondered if other people had brought dogs, Sierra and Yeshi’s ferocious Mitzi or Posey’s hysterical Baby. The courtyard had been quiet, which neither dog was. “What’s our plan B if Jamie won’t squeal o
n Sierra?”
“Squeal?”
“I can’t think what else to call it. Spy on her. The soul group has to be the center of her scam. We might need Mae to do some psychic work to find out the truth.”
“We could learn a lot that way, but it wouldn’t fly in an article. No one would think I’d used a reliable source. We need a witness. Let’s see who the two final members are, and if they seem likely to believe her teachings or to feel like you did. And like Jamie used to.”
*****
When Mae and the twins arrived at the Red Pelican at five thirty, the sound of Jamie’s didgeridoo droned and pulsed from within the courtyard walls. She’d taken a guess that he would come out the back door into the alley between the Red Pelican and the A&B Drive-In Diner, since it was closer to his suite than the Main Street exit.
Brook carried a get well card she and Stream had made, and Stream carried a gift bag of organic, vegan cookies from the health food store on Broadway. Mae wished she could sneak the girls in to see the performance, but that would be rude to the people who had paid for the retreat, and anyway the sight of her was bound to upset Jamie. She had left a message that she was bringing the twins to see him, but he hadn’t answered. He changed instruments, drumming quietly while singing. His voice was light, the notes as perfect and clear as ever, but some of his power was missing.
Dreams, hopes, dark notes
Emptiness overflowing ...
New healing music. She’d heard his early albums in this style before she met him and had expected someone transcendent and wise. His chaotic personality had startled her. And yet, this other quality was in him, too. He was a healer.
“His voice is so beautiful,” Stream whispered. “I want to learn to sing.”
Mae stroked her stepdaughter’s hair. Would this be a passing interest, like trying to be psychic, or would it stick, like her passions for cars and bugs?
The song ended, and a round of applause followed. Conversations began to buzz. A man spoke over the others with an accent Mae guessed was Tibetan. “That ends today’s programs. Rest well. Early to bed. Tomorrow the same start and then basics of Tibetan medicine. If you had massage, drink extra water. Thank you, Jangarrai, very nice. Very healing.”
Mae opened the courtyard door, not wanting to ambush Jamie. He was approaching with Kate by his side.
“Hey.” Mae felt suddenly awkward. With this man she loved and had been so close to, she now was at a loss. She managed a smile. “You get my message?”
He shook his head, looking down at the girls then back at Mae with a kind of veil over his usual vulnerability, his eyes unreadable.
Kate said to him, “I can talk to you later, if you need time with Mae and the kids.”
“Nah, everybody come with me. I’ll have a fucking entourage.”
“Twenty-five cents.” Brook held out her hand.
Jamie squeezed it, and his face softened. “I’ll owe ya.”
Stream took his other hand and they walked ahead with him, while Mae, Kate, and Lobo trailed more slowly as Kate negotiated the rough dirt and gravel. The alley smelled of fried food from the diner on their left and spices from the Asian restaurant up ahead on Pershing Street.
“How’s it going?” Mae asked.
Kate steered around a pothole. “Sierra brought Rex and Posey into her soul group.”
“What? I thought Posey wasn’t in it.”
“Apparently they merged and became co-souls sharing a co-life which makes her a member, whatever in hell that means. I was hoping Jamie could catch me up on it. Bernadette had a massage and a consultation with Yeshi, so she should be able to tell if he’s as qualified as he seems. I’ll see her later and find out.”
They turned right, into the Pelican Apartment Motel parking lot. Jamie and the girls were sitting on a bright blue bench on the green walkway that fronted the purplish-pink motel. He was wearing a silky orange long-sleeved T-shirt, and the girls were clad in their preferred blends of hot pink, turquoise, and purple. Mae wanted to take a picture—and then she didn’t. What if Jamie was on his way out of her life?
He was reading the card with the children cuddled on either side of him.
“We’re sorry we made you take care of us while you were sick,” Stream said.
“No worries.” He put the card on his lap and gave her a side-hug. “I’m not that sick. And you were good company.”
Mae had given them a talk about running away. In the future, they were to tell Hubert everything that bothered them rather than acting out, even if they thought he wouldn’t like what they said, because he loved them so much he would understand. She hadn’t told them to apologize to Jamie. That had to have been Stream’s idea.
“You should eat the cookies,” Brook said. “They’re healthy cookies.”
“I will. Thanks, darl.” Normally, Jamie would have eaten them immediately. Mae had never seen him able to resist cookies, but now he got up to put the bag inside his suite then sat back down between the girls. He regarded Mae and Kate. “Having a conference, are we?”
“I wanted to know about the soul group,” Kate said.
“Sorry. Private.”
“What? You have to be kidding.”
“It is. You’d’ve been invited if it wasn’t, right?”
Kate let out a hissing breath and her hands landed on the arms of her chair, gripping hard.
Mae moved closer to Jamie, standing near Stream. She didn’t want him getting into an argument with Kate right now. “And I need a few minutes to talk with you.”
“Bloody hell, again?”
“You owe us another—” Brook cut herself off, a wounded look on her face. “Are you mad at Mama?”
“Sorry. Yeah, I am. Guess I should talk with her, shouldn’t I?”
Brook nodded.
To spare the twins hearing a difficult discussion, Mae suggested they go into his suite while she and Jamie stayed outside, but Brook protested, “We’d rather stay out here with Kate. You can go in.”
“She can teach us sign language.” Stream jumped to her feet before Kate could say yes or no. “Couldn’t you, Kate?”
“I could.” Kate met Mae’s eyes. “And Lobo could use some time off from work to run around and play with a couple of kids.” She began to unbuckle his harness. “As soon as he’s out of his work clothes, he knows he can get goofy.”
The girls converged on Kate. Mae thanked her and went in with Jamie.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kicking his shoes off, Jamie lay on the couch. His hair fell back, revealing distinct lumps on the sides of his neck. One swelling was disturbingly larger than the other, and the sight of it made Mae cringe. How could he have kept living with this untreated?
His eyes still had that closed-off, protected look, not the soft baby-seal expression Mae had come to expect from him at difficult times. “What is this?” he asked. “Official break-up?”
“I don’t know yet.” If they couldn’t work things out, would he get drawn further into Sierra’s circle? As Don had said, sick people were vulnerable, no matter what the illness. Mae pulled the dining chair close to the couch and sat. “How are you feeling?”
He arranged his hair over his swollen glands, wriggling his shoulders. “Mmm. Buggered. Not much sleep. Little feverish. S’posed to be the next one healed in the soul group thing. Or maybe Saturday. Dunno.”
“Sugar, you need to see your doctor, not listen to Sierra. You hate Sierra.”
“Yeah. Hate my doc, too. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t know anything, though. I’ll see her when I get back to Santa Fe. If I need to.”
“Did you talk with her at all?”
“Bloody hell.” Jamie sat up. “I have an appointment.” He slowed his words down, speaking loudly with crisp diction as if she were deaf. “I’ll see her when I get back. If I have to.”
“You do have to. Fiona and Mary Kay taught us we don’t heal physical illnesses, and we don’t diagnose. If Sierra thinks she can do that—”
/> “It’s not her. It’s the group. Jeezus, she’s pompous and she grates on my nerves, but something happened. All right? And I don’t want to fuck with it. So don’t ask, and don’t tell me it’s all crap. Maybe it is, but maybe it isn’t. Give the process a few days.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t okay at all. It didn’t even make sense. But Mae didn’t want to risk another fight by pressuring Jamie. “I came here to talk about us. About where we go from here.”
“Told you yesterday where I want us to go, and you said no. Now you’re all worried about my health. Don’t even think about staying together because I’m sick. I’m not taking the fucking consolation prize.”
He walked slowly to the kitchen and filled two glasses with water, bringing one to her. Gasser trailed him and rubbed at his ankles.
Mae took a sip. It was hard to swallow. Staying together because I’m sick. Cat scratch disease shouldn’t trigger that kind of drama. Did he know something he hadn’t told her? “Are you holding something back? How sick are you?”
He drained his glass, clunked it down next to Mae’s, then squatted and drew Gasser up onto his hind legs. Bursting into the old heavy metal song, “Cat Scratch Fever,” Jamie waggled his hips while pumping his pet’s front legs to make him dance. His abrupt swing from gloom into silliness was hard to resist, but Mae recognized his habit of dodging confrontation with a song and dance, and she couldn’t let it work.
“Jamie, how sick—”
“We’re not talking about that.” He carried his cat to the couch and sank down. “Don’t fuck with the process.”
Mae sighed. There was no getting through to him about his health, at least not yet. “We need to make some kind of peace. I can’t seem to say anything that doesn’t piss you off or that you don’t take wrong. So can we just hit pause? It’d hurt Brook and Stream if we broke up. You see how much they love you. And Hubert and Jen are having such a hard time, it’s been rough for the girls.”
