People filed out of the shop and into the garden. The reiki class was over, and I got some curious glances. I sat up slowly, trying to breathe normally. It took a few minutes, but eventually I got it under control.
My chest hurt. My heart center must have reblocked itself and now caused me actual physical pain. I hoped Auntie Mags was still inside. Either I’d finally become as crazy as all the other people in the South Side, or this ridiculous stuff was real. I wasn’t sure which idea frightened me more.
Chapter Seventeen
When in doubt, bake cookies.
~Aunt Francesca~
I gathered my purchases and ran into the shop. “Auntie Mags, are you still here?”
She was in the kitchen, sipping tea with Mom. “Fiona, what’s wrong?”
I sat down next to her, still rubbing the spot in my chest. “I think my heart chakra is blocked again. Help.”
Auntie Mags put a hand on my cheek. “I told you the problem was emotional, sweetie. Have you tried to find your heart center?”
Mom got up to give us a little privacy. I closed my eyes and tried to relax and feel the glowing light in my chest. It didn’t work.
“I can’t do it. It’s gone.” My eyes flew open, and panic crept into my voice.
Auntie Mags leaned forward and looked me straight in the eye. “Stop it, Fiona. You’re letting other things get in the way. We need to go somewhere quiet. Peaceful.” She led me back out to the garden. The reiki people were gone, and we were all alone. She made me lie down on a bench near the fountain. It was warm from the sun and covered in soft cushions. “Close your eyes and calm down.”
I followed her instructions but not well enough. “Relax your face. You look like you sucked on a lemon. And your shoulders are almost up to your ears. Goodness me. You’re a tense little thing today, aren’t you?” I opened my eyes, about to snap at her, but she pointed her finger at me. “Shut your eyes and relax. For real this time.”
I scowled but followed her instructions. Soon I felt calm and limp, my breaths coming slowly in and out of my nose.
“Good girl,” said Auntie Mags. “Now picture what you love most in the world. The person or thing or even a place to bring you joy.”
I inhaled slowly through my nose, picturing the man I’d always thought I’d be with. Someone with a suit and a job and a savings account, who also looked an awful lot like Scott. I imagined having a family and building a beautiful, normal life together. I felt the stirrings of my heart center but couldn’t quite connect with it. I decided to try again.
This time I pictured Matthew. The way he kissed me. The look on his face when he’d been inside my body. The way his hair fell into his eyes when he played guitar. I breathed in and breathed out, using slow, steady breaths, and then I felt it. The glowing orb in the center of my being.
My eyes flew open. “No.”
A life with Matthew also meant dealing with someone a lot like my mom. The only thing that could be possibly worse than falling for a guitarist was falling for a drummer. Or a bass player, but no one ever truly fell for bass players.
Was this really what my mom had meant when she talked about the Campbell women being cursed? Falling for the wrong men at exactly the wrong time and never learning from our mistakes? Well, if so, I planned to break with tradition. This was not going to happen to me.
“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head firmly.
Auntie Mags looked at me in surprise. “What happened, Fiona? You were so peaceful.”
I stood up, dusting off my shorts. The fountain gurgled behind me, mocking me. “Ever since you unblocked my heart chakra, things have been . . . confusing.”
She clicked her tongue. “Oh dear. I should have warned you, dearie. Sometimes the mind does not want to accept what the heart tells it.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “And sometimes the heart is wrong.”
Auntie Mags shrugged. “That’s something you have to figure out for yourself, but in my opinion, the heart always tells the truth. Often, however, we don’t want to hear it.”
I stomped back into the kitchen, muttering something about “superstitious mumbo jumbo” under my breath. When the lunch crowd streamed in, it took my mind off everything else. Later as I cleaned up, my thoughts went back to the events of the night before. I remembered Matthew’s hands on my body and the way he kissed me and made me feel so precious and important. I washed the same pot three times before realizing what I’d done. Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone. Kate witnessed the whole thing.
“What are you doing, Fiona?” she asked with a giggle. She wore a black cami with hot-pink skulls made from glitter, black capri leggings, and a hot-pink tutu. She looked like an edgy, curvy ballerina.
“Nothing. I got . . . distracted.”
Kate walked over to me, took me firmly by the shoulders, and looked deep into my eyes. “You got laid.”
“How did you know?” I gasped, my voice a whispered hiss.
“It’s in your eyes, cupcake. I could tell right away.”
“Oh man. I hope my mom doesn’t figure it out.”
“Like she would mind,” she snickered. “I guess you and Scott made up?”
My hands froze on the plate I washed, and I swallowed hard. Kate stared at me, her face pensive. “Unless Scott isn’t the one you slept with,” she said softly.
My lower lip quivered. “I need to talk to someone.”
Kate took my hand and pulled me up to my bedroom. I plopped down on my bed, and she closed the door behind her. I put my hands over my face and wailed. “I’m a terrible person.”
Kate pried my hands away from my eyes and gave me a stern look over her glasses. “You’re one of the nicest people I know.”
“No, I’m not. One minute I was fine and happy with Scott. The next minute, I broke up with him and jumped into bed with another man.”
“Well, that’s understandable. Matthew is . . . well . . . hot doesn’t cover it. He’s magnificent. It was Matthew, right?”
I flopped down and groaned into one of my pillows. Kate patted my back. “There, there now. It can’t have been bad.”
I let out a shaky little breath. “It wasn’t.”
“So what’s the problem?”
I looked down at my hands clenched in my lap. “I always thought I’d end up with someone like Scott. He fits neatly into my life plan.”
Kate brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. “Love isn’t so simple, Fiona.”
“I wish it were.”
“What are you going to do?”
I winced. “I tried to be nice to Scott. Kind but firm. My new mantra.”
She snorted. “Oh God. You have a mantra now?”
I glared at her. “Shut up. Please. You’re supposed to be helping.”
“Sorry. You’re right.”
“I may have been a little lacking in the firm part, though.” I blew out a sigh. “He wasn’t getting it. I’m not sure if he gets it even now. He still wants to talk things out.”
“Well, what about Matthew?”
“He told me it was the best night of his whole life, and he said he’d never regret what happened between us.”
Kate clutched her hands to her chest. “Aww. What did you say?”
I blushed again. “Nothing. I’m not good at romantic banter.”
Kate gave me a stern look over her glasses. “You’re seriously messed up in the head.”
“I know. It’s the whole ‘love’ thing.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “You’ve explained it to me before. If you can’t see it, touch it, or calculate it, you want no part of it. So why were you in Matthew’s bed?”
My shoulders slumped. “Auntie Mags unblocked my heart chakra, and I felt all confused. Then my mom told me the fountain water was magic, and Matthew and I both drank it. She’s using the same water for her teas, by the way. If we don’t all get dysentery, it’ll be a miracle.”
Kate swallowed hard. “She uses the fountain water for tea?”
&
nbsp; “And coffee too. She thinks it has magical properties. Another thing to worry about.”
Kate cleared her throat. “Not to add to your list, but your mom is planning a surprise party for you. I think it was originally intended to be a way to ‘welcome Scott into our South Side family and make him feel loved and included.’ Her words, not mine. But when you broke up with him, the theme changed.”
“To what?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I think it has something to do with ‘one last chance to party before Anderson destroys us all’?”
“Oh no. When?”
“Next Friday. I don’t want to ruin her surprise, but in light of the circumstances . . .” Kate looked worried. I gave her a little hug.
“You were right to tell me. Thanks.” I sighed. “What should I do about Matthew?”
Kate stood up. She had to get back to work. “I can’t answer your question, but I do know one thing. I have a feeling your ‘kind but firm’ mantra isn’t working with Scott. You’re going to have to get harsh with him, and it has to be soon.”
“I was pretty harsh to him last time,” I sniffed. “But you’re right. I know.”
It was getting hot, even with the air-conditioning on, so I took off my hoodie. It smelled like Matthew’s detergent and fabric softener. It smelled like him. I put it up to my face and cried again. I felt something in the pocket and took it out. A note from Matthew.
I’m sitting here in the darkness, watching you sleep. The only light is from the moon, and I swear I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You’re so utterly radiant and sweet and wonderful. In the light of day, when you’re gone, this might seem stupid and sentimental of me, but I had to say it. I fell for you the first moment I saw you standing in your mom’s shop. All you had to do was scowl at me, and I was lost. Completely and hopelessly yours. For always.
The last few words of Matthew’s neat and elegant handwriting were a blur. I was full-out weeping now, holding the note against my chest and crying in huge, silent sobs until I felt like it would be physically impossible to cry any more. I folded his note carefully and put it in the treasure box on my dresser. Mom had given me the box years ago to hold all my special things. Shells and rocks and other small trinkets filled it. I tucked Matthew’s note inside too.
I went to the bathroom to wash my face. My eyes looked puffy and red, making it obvious I’d been crying, and I felt exhausted, both mentally and physically. I called down to my mom in the kitchen, “Do you mind if I take a little nap?”
She shouted up, “Sure, honey. Kate is helping me. You must have stayed up late last night. I bet you had fun.”
I was glad I couldn’t see the expression on Kate’s face at the moment. “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Mom.”
I curled up on my bed, the hoodie smelling like Matthew clutched in my arms. My body was sore in odd places from the thorough loving I’d received. I thought about the way it felt, the way my body caught on fire each and every single time he kissed me. Kate was right; he was magnificent, and his note made me feel even more confused than before, but I fell immediately into a deep and peaceful sleep. Hours later I woke with a start, disoriented and thinking I was still in Matthew’s bed because I smelled him on my hoodie and on my skin. I let out a small, muffled sob. I had no idea what to do to make my life okay again, so I decided to bake.
My mom didn’t say a word when she found me in the kitchen kneading bread and covered in flour. I had two pies in the oven, and I’d mixed up sugar-cookie dough as well. I felt like decorating as many intricate cookies as possible. She made both of us a cup of herbal tea and sat down at the island to watch me. I wore an apron that read “Make Cupcakes, Not War.” It seemed appropriate.
“Have I ever told you about the archers I saw once in Japan?” she asked. I shook my head. “They dress like samurai, but they wear these funny woven hats. They can shoot arrows while galloping on a horse. It’s pretty amazing. When they train, they’re told not to think about hitting the target. If they practice and relax and become one with the bow, eventually they will hit the target automatically.”
“That seems backward. Isn’t hitting the target sort of the point of archery?”
She took a sip of her tea. “Yes and no. Archery has almost a religious significance to them. They consider their training a form of meditation. You know about Zen Buddhism. Remember the adorable meditation teacher who used to come and give classes? What was her name?”
“Helen, but she changed it to Lotus Blossom.”
She smiled fondly at the memory. “Lotus Blossom. Whatever happened to her? She was lovely. I should send her a Christmas card.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “She married a hedge fund manager and moved to New York.”
Mom cringed. “Oh, right. I guess I blocked it from my memory. He was a nice hedge fund manager, though, and he loved our Lotus Blossom. Sometimes opposites attract.”
I punched the dough down and kneaded it again. Mom took another sip of tea, watching me as I attacked the poor lump of bread dough. “I think cooking is your meditation,” she said. “It’s so Zen and beautiful. Your hands are busy, and it helps your mind reach enlightenment. The purest and simplest path to Nirvana.”
I looked up at her from my pile of mutilated dough. “I’m nowhere near enlightenment.”
She laughed. “You’re like the archers in Japan. You’re focusing on the process instead of the target.”
I brushed some of the flour off my hands and picked up my cup of tea. “I don’t have a target.”
My mom kissed my cheek. “My point exactly. You’re a Zen master, and you don’t even realize it.”
“I don’t want to be a Zen master. I want to be a CPA.” In a flash, I remembered something, and my eyes flew to the calendar. “I was supposed to take the books to Mr. Jenkins today and forgot. I’d better call him.”
She patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I took them over.”
I frowned at her. “You remembered?”
She nodded. “Of course, darling.”
When she left the room, I shook my head. Sometimes my mom hovered in the atmosphere, floating in a slightly different dimension than other people, and sometimes she surprised me. She never remembered to take care of the books. Mr. Jenkins always had to call her and harass her to bring them in until I took over. But she was right about one thing. Maybe baking was my meditation.
I stayed up late, cutting out cookies and decorating them with royal sugar icing. I made ornate little teacup cookies for my tea party ladies, tarot card cookies for Madame Lucinda’s group, and even some pagan symbols for the Wiccans who met at the café once a month on the night of the full moon. By the time I was done, I was tired and my arms were sore, but I’d avoided crying or thinking about Matthew or Scott for hours. I considered it an accomplishment.
Afterward, I went out into the garden and sat by the fountain. The night air cooled my hot skin, making me sigh with pleasure. I’d been inside next to a warm oven for hours. The sweet chill of the night air was refreshing.
The moon was almost full, and the Wiccans were scheduled to come on Thursday. Tomorrow, Madame Lucinda would read her tarot cards and tell me all about a handsome stranger. I frowned, remembering her reading last week. She knew someone was lying to me. I was kind of curious and kind of terrified about what she might say tomorrow.
A breeze ruffled the leaves in the trees above me, and the moonlight sparkled on the water in the fountain. I thought I saw a glimmer of silver again, but when I got up and looked at it more closely, I realized I was mistaken. It was a trick of the light.
My shoulders slumped as I remembered how Matthew had kissed me for the first time in this very spot. I heard a bell chime in the distance, the old clock by the church. I dipped my fingers into the fountain as the bell chimed over and over again. Midnight.
I cupped my hands, filled them with water, and drank as the clock chimed twelve. I let the cold, sweet water slide down my throat, and closed my eye
s.
“I wish I could know what I really want.”
As soon as I said the words, a gust of wind came and blew my hair around my face, making the wind chimes my mom hung all over the garden play an eerie melody. It lasted only a few seconds, and just as I started to feel a little frightened, the wind died and everything went quiet. The only noise was the gurgle of the fountain and the furious beating of my own heart.
Chapter Eighteen
The best recipes call for a bit of spice.
~Aunt Francesca~
Madame Lucinda’s tarot card reading was scheduled to commence promptly at seven. Prior to that, I had the rest of the day free. I spent most of it at the hospital with Moses, telling him all about Matthew and Scott and my mess of a life. He never opened his eyes or gave any indication he heard me, but the bandages were off his head and the swelling down on his face. He looked more like himself every day, but he still wasn’t better. I was straightening his blanket when Nurse Brenda came in. She smiled when she saw me.
“Did you hear the news? He asked for a drink yesterday. And he thanked me for it.”
“I heard,” I said, blinking away a tear. “But I talk and talk and talk to him, and he hasn’t opened his eyes once.”
Brenda put her hands on my shoulders and gave me a steady look. “He will. Give him time. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he heard every word you’ve said to him.”
I cringed. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone into so much detail about Matthew. When Brenda left the room, I leaned forward to whisper into Moses’s ear.
“Please forget most of what I’ve told you, especially the private parts. I have a feeling you don’t want to know that stuff. But I want to tell you something important. I’m going to find out who did this to you, Moses. I promise.”
I thought I saw a slight flicker of his eyelids, but it may have been my imagination. I squeezed his hand one last time, kissed his forehead, and left the room.
When Madame Lucinda showed up, I plopped myself down in the chair in front of her. She folded her hands on the table and raised one well-penciled brow at me.
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