by Amber Foxx
“She didn’t find lung cancer.”
“Bloody hell.” Jamie couldn’t doubt Mae. He turned his bottle back and forth. “Don? You can do this stuff. Is there something else Sierra could have seen that she took for cancer?”
Don’s fingers drummed the table and then fell still. “I don’t know what her inner vision is like. We all get different views. You remember what Mary Kay said. She hears voices like someone reading a medical textbook. I get a feeling of certainty with almost no imagery. Just a quality that’s hard to describe. You sensed me as music.”
“Your personality. I didn’t pick up your health. I don’t have medical intuition.”
“Do you want me to double-check Rex? Get a third opinion?”
Daphne cut in, pouring the last crumbs of chips from the bag into her cupped hand. “Why bother? I think we can all agree that Mae is good. And that Sierra is a first-class nut case. She has to be making things up. Chuck and I had our Akashic records read and she told him he’d been a fairy.”
“Jeezus,” Jamie said, “I knew she was rude, but no one says that anymore.”
Daphne tossed the chips into her mouth and crunched. “I don’t mean politically incorrect gay. I mean a fairy.”
Despite, or even because of the tension, Jamie snort-laughed. Rex hooted. Don shook his head and confirmed that he’d heard Sierra say it.
“It’s my sprightly manner.” Chuck grinned. “My twinkle-toes on the dance floor.”
Daphne said, “She’s never seen you twinkle your toes.”
Chuck put on a solemn expression. “I was a man of the Sidhe, the Irish fairy folk.”
“That what she said?” Jamie asked. “Hard to think you used to be one, but the Irish fairies aren’t Tinker Bell. They’re sort of mysterious and powerful. Practically immortal. And they steal humans off to dance with ’em.”
All four of his companions looked at him as if he’d gone off the deep end. Chuck said, “Pardon me, but did you just say you believe in fairies?”
“Nah, just know the myths about the Sidhe. But we could come and go out of spirit lives. I know ghosts are real. I’ve seen ’em. And spirit guides. Had one hanging around all morning.”
“Really?” Rex’s manner altered, becoming more respectful. “I’ve always wanted a spirit guide. Like that woman in the Seth books. What does yours do?”
Jamie drank. Did it matter if he shared this? He’d already been weird, admitting to seeing spirits. He explained William, who he was and what he did. “He just visits most people, except Chuck. He cuddles right up to you. You’re his favorite. And he’s not interested in Sierra or Posey or Bernadette.”
“Does he like Mae?” Rex asked.
Mae. It was so hard to talk about her as if they were a couple, but he had to. Staying together for the kids. “Nah. Never even shows up for her. Or her kids. It’s not as if he likes who I like or avoids people I don’t like.”
Don leaned forward. “What do the people he notices have in common? And the ones he ignores—are they alike?”
“Mmm. He ignored my therapist. Didn’t pay attention to other people at the workshop with Fiona and Mary Kay. It’s only here that he started circulating. What do you have in common?”
“Chronic illness, of course,” Rex said. “Isn’t that obvious?”
Daphne shook her head. “Chuck’s not sick. He’s been in remission from prostate cancer for three years. Not a thing wrong with him now except for being the laziest husband on earth.”
Chuck took her hand and laid it against his heart. “That’s why I’m so healthy. No stress.”
Jamie studied Chuck’s radiant, rosy face. “Jeezus. No wonder he loves you. William died of cancer.”
The group’s stares were different this time. Jamie sensed the same insight dawning in all of them. Rex was the one to put it into words. “This spirit guide is your medical intuition.”
“Yeah. And if Sierra was a member of the club with Chuck, William would love her, too. But he doesn’t.”
Don raised his bottle like he was making a toast. “Looks like I was right. I suspected she’d been lying.”
“And so was Posey. She was never sick, and she wasn’t healed. That was an act.” An act that had fooled Jamie—and Magda.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Friday evening, the twins had a date for a Skype call with Hubert. Mae set up her laptop on the coffee table in the living room, the way he always did in Tylerton, so the girls could sit on the couch and appear on camera together. They had asked her to help them do the strange hairdos Jamie had given them on their trip as a way of telling them apart, Brook with a ponytail at the crown of her head that sprayed in all directions and Stream with a double-folded bun, an unmistakable stylistic homage to people who took care of Jamie, Wendy Huang and Carl Gorman.
Mae sat beside Brook and made the call. Hubert came on-screen. “Hey, hon.”
She answered only with a soft “Hey.” It made her uncomfortable that he had never stopped calling her hon, even while he called Jen by the same pet name.
The twins shouted, “Daddy!” in unison, miming hugs.
“Hey, sweethearts.” Hubert grinned. “Look at y’all. That’s some wild and crazy hair.”
Stream turned to show off her do and faced the camera again. “It was Jamie’s idea.”
“Is he there?”
“No,” Mae said. “He’s working at that retreat.” There was something in the way Hubert looked at her that made her pause. Was he glad Jamie wasn’t there? Why? He liked Jamie. “Is Jen with you?”
He pressed his lips together, quiet for a moment. “How about I talk with the girls first, and then you?”
“Sounds good.” Sounds like he’s avoiding something. “I need to go fix supper.”
From the kitchen, she heard them telling Hubert about their day while she scavenged for something quick and easy to throw together. The freezer held several containers of the lentil soup Jamie had made for her months ago, and she took one out to thaw. Though she was grateful for the soup now, the fact that he’d bought her the slow cooker, made the soup and a batch of cookies and done some housework for her had worried her more than it pleased her the day he’d done it. He’d been working too hard to prove he was worthy and loveable, driven by the same need that had made him hide his illness and keep traveling, trying to take on a father role. A role that Hubert filled with natural confidence. There had been no emotional baggage attached when Hubert did cooking or housework. He just did it, no big deal. Mae felt wrong when she caught herself comparing the two men. Jamie’s drama about everything was simply his nature, not a fault.
“We went to college with Mama,” Brook was saying. “We were really quiet and sat in her classes like we were college students.”
Hearing a knock at the door, Mae left the soup on the counter. As she passed through the living room, Stream was telling Hubert, “Mama took us to meet a professor who’s an antymologist.”
Hubert’s voice, warm and amused, said, “You mean entomologist, a bug scientist.”
Mae opened the door. Jamie, with the top layer of his hair in slender braids and his goatee braided and beaded, stood on the porch. The first time Jamie had tried to impress her, he’d done his hair like that and later asked her to undo the braids for him, unable to cope with untangling his own hair, one of the many little neuroses he trusted her to understand. Part of her was happy to see him, but after the ring, another part of her heart was dismayed by his surprise visit and his efforts to look good. He carried a small faux-silver frame. Mae couldn’t see what it held, but she was afraid he’d brought her a gift.
“Sorry I didn’t call.” Jamie put on his please-like-me smile, ninety-nine percent of his full wattage, not quite erasing the tension around his eyes. “Made me too nervous.”
“Come in. Be quiet, though, the young’uns are Skyping with Hubert.”
Jamie entered, holding the frame against his belly, rubbing the glass on his shirt. “How’re he and Jen doing?�
�
“I’m not sure.” She led him into the kitchen. “I reckon I’ll find out in a little bit.”
“You still have that soup?” Jamie set the frame on the table face down and began to explore the cabinets and the refrigerator, making disapproving noises. “That’s not a meal. What are you going to cook besides that? You need some fresh bread. A salad. And you don’t have any cookies for the kids? Jeezus.”
“Sugar, you didn’t come here to tell me what to make for supper.”
“I should’ve. You need me to go get something? I can whip up some cornbread. I’m feeling sort of good, y’know, not too bad today.” His words sped up and his pitch rose slightly. “I drove, so it’ll only take a few minutes.”
“Thank you. But we’ll be fine with what I’ve got on hand.”
Mae pulled out a chair. Jamie sighed and sat across from her. “Sorry. Going backwards, y’know? Told you this would be hard. I came because ... Fuck. Where do I start?”
He turned the frame over. It held a famous love poem, ornamented with a jungle of pastel flowers, vines, and birds. Mae’s hand went her mouth. What didn’t he understand about slowing down, taking some space?
He shoved the poem towards her. “Rex gave me this. You need to investigate Posey.”
Mae’s relief that it wasn’t a gift lasted only a second, replaced by annoyance with Rex. “I already told him I wouldn’t do that. He has to talk with her to get to know her.” Mae read the verse. “I guess he can tell she goes overboard. She gave him that already and they only knew each other online until this weekend. And she had to have done it in advance, before she even met him.”
“Makes me look slow and sensible, doesn’t she?” Jamie half-smiled. “Sorry. Don’t answer that. Rex isn’t asking about Posey as a girlfriend. He’s already lost interest in that. We think she’s up to something.” Fidgeting and avoiding Mae’s eyes, Jamie told her about Posey’s feigned illness, William’s role as a medical intuition guide, and Magda’s hospitalization. “I was an idiot, a complete fucking idiot, believing some of that crap, but—Jeezus, I’m ashamed of this—it was starting to mean something to me until all that happened.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
“Feel like one. Magda’s in intensive care. What if she’d died and left her money to Sierra’s retreat center? Rex thinks Sierra had Posey hunting for a man with money. A sick man with money. He was talking about his stock portfolio yesterday, and the next thing he knows Sierra says he’s in the soul group. You wouldn’t think a bloke who lives in an RV was that well-off, but he’s set for life. Wants to travel the country with the woman of his dreams.”
Investigating Posey might not be wrong after all, if she was part of a scam with Sierra. Mae picked up the framed poem.
“Tasteless, isn’t it?” Jamie asked. “Bad as her clothes. Wonder if that’s an act like being sick. Being all weak-pathetic-feminine and flowery.”
“Because men would fall for it?”
“Because stupid men would fall for it. I don’t mean intellectually stupid, but y’know, interpersonally stupid. Think Sierra wanted to hook Rex by making him think she’d cured him of lung cancer, too.”
“He doesn’t have it.”
“She doesn’t know you checked him out. Does she even know you live here?”
“Yeah. I ran into her.” Mae glanced down. “After our fight the other night. She wasn’t too happy to see me.”
“The way you told her off at the workshop, she probably thinks you’d sway me back into my senses.” Jamie’s hand reached for hers, then stopped. He began fidgeting with the pepper shaker. “She doesn’t know we’re, y’know, where we are.”
Mae nodded. He was being stronger than she’d expected, and she was thankful. “Did you find out why she wants you in her group? Is it for marketing? Publicity?”
Jamie propped his elbows on the table and rubbed his face. “Dunno. Maybe. She may just want someone who trained as a healer. To add to the group energy.”
“Is there any group energy? It sounds like no one gets better, emotionally or physically. She may say she wants people to heal, but remember that question she asked Fiona, about sending what she thinks people need? Sierra could be sending something negative, trying to make people sicker.”
Jamie stared. “So they die and leave her their money?”
“Or so they feel worse about their karma and need her more.”
“Could be.” He poured a little pepper on the table and drew spirals in it. “That’s kind of what went through my head when I kept getting sicker.”
Mae noticed the dampness on his upper lip. A couple of days ago she’d been delighted to see the definition of his jaw and cheekbones and the leanness of his body, but those were signs that he’d neglected his health. “Sugar, now that you know it’s all bull, do you think you should stay? I’ve got lots of help looking into Sierra. If you feel really bad, you could cancel the rest of the music and go home. If Yeshi’s a good doctor, he should understand.”
“It’s Friday night. What’s the point? I’ll see my doc Monday.” Jamie wiped out the spirals and started over with new ones. “I should stay and get my free massage and consultation. See if Yeshi is a good doctor.”
“Bernadette looked up his credentials.”
“But he likes to have Sierra diagnose with him when he does pulse readings. I wouldn’t let them do it the other night. They barged in after you left and he wanted to find out what was wrong with me. I wasn’t in any shape to deal with them,” Jamie glanced at her and back down at his pepper art. “He said they worked ‘like two eyes sending images to the same brain.’ ”
“You want to get their diagnosis and compare it with your doctor’s? You haven’t even seen her yet. And everyone gets the consultation. The others can tell me the same thing. Stop pushing yourself. You have this habit ...” Mae felt a new frankness with Jamie, an urge to tell him things she might have avoided before their fight. She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but the words came out. “You hurt yourself. You don’t see it, but there’s always some way you’re still harming yourself.”
Jamie gave her a hard look. “I have to stay. Sierra’s fucking with sick people’s heads. I almost fell for it. I halfway did. She thinks I’m a convert. Haven’t said I’m not. Maybe I can stop her. Find out what she does with the money, how much she takes. Do something. It’s what I should've done before, but I dumped it on Kate and Bernadette. I was too selfish to put up with Sierra.”
“You were leaving on tour, sugar.”
“And I was too selfish.”
“See, there you go beating up on yourself.”
His eyes flashed, hot and dark. “I’m seeing this through.” He brushed the pepper into his palm and dumped it in the sink, then filled a glass of water and gulped it down. “Anyway, I invited Ezra as my guest. Thought he’d like to learn about the Tibetan stuff. He should be getting here tonight.”
“Good. You listen to him. Maybe he’ll convince you to take care of yourself.”
Stream ran into the room. “Daddy wants to say hi to Jamie. Then he needs to talk to Mama alone.” She tugged at Jamie’s arm. “Are you having supper with us?”
“Dunno. Hadn’t planned on it.”
“You have to.” Escorting him into the living room, she added, “We can make sure you eat.”
Still taking care of him. Mae ran warm water over the tub of frozen soup, knocked the clump into a pot and put it on the stove to heat, then joined the others in the next room.
When Jamie finished his brief chat with Hubert, he offered to take the girls to the store with him. Mae didn’t want him to, but they were acting the role of still-together. Was she worrying too much? He could make it three blocks to Bullock’s and back. And he was giving her some private time with Hubert, a generous offer, considering Jamie’s lingering jealousy.
He left with the twins and Mae settled on the couch. “Hey. Jamie took the girls shopping. You wanted to talk to me alone?”
Hubert
slumped on the sofa in the living room in Tylerton. “Yeah. God, I miss the girls. It’s hard knowing I won’t see ’em ’til Christmas. I finally get what it’s like for you. We need to work out something better. Better for all of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know yet. I need to think on it. Jen’s still in Maine. She wouldn’t come home with me.”
“Oh my god. Did she quit her job? Is she— What’s going on with you?”
He took a moment, tapping his fingers on his thighs, his jaw working. “It wasn’t just the problems with the girls. We were fighting about money. Jen has no idea what it’s like to budget with a family. To budget at all. She still lived with her folks. I don’t think you knew that.”
“No.” Mae almost said something about how immature that was. Jamie had been forced to live with his parents for a few months when his career had been stalled out, but it had been an emergency arrangement. Jen had been working at a good job for years. “Didn’t y’all talk about money before you got married?”
“I thought we had. But she’s not happy if she’s not spending. She makes excuses. Olympia’s letting her stay in the condo she moved out of when she got married and ... she would rent it to her cheap if Jen stayed up there.”
“What? No, you can’t be serious. Oh, Hubert, I’m so sorry.” Mae wished she could hug him. He looked so defeated. She’d never seen him knocked flat like this. “Do you really think she’ll stay in Maine?”
