Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  She shuffled the worn, crinkled cards one last time. “In New Orleans, I met the most amazing woman, Mama Reine, a surrogate mother to Sam. She smacked me upside the back of my head with the words of my deeds; something my granny would have done if she was alive.”

  Diane and Maggie scooted their chairs closer.

  “Oh, this sounds interesting. Mama Reine—tell me about her,” Maggie said.

  Marcie thumped the cards once with the knuckles of her right hand and then held them to her chest. She looked at Diane and then Maggie, considering how much she should say. “She’s a witch in Terrebonne Parish who reminds me of Granny. Mama Reine helped me see again right after I got my memory back. You know those who practice magic must be completely honest in all aspects of their personal life. You use energy to strengthen the power within you, not to use over someone else. What I took for granted, and forgot, was a very simple rule taught to me. When I practice my gift, no matter what anyone says, this is a gift from God. The spiritual laws are clear. Don’t ever abuse your gift. Never is it to be used for personal gain to harm another. It’s what I did when I helped Dan. I refused to see all the roadblocks right in front of me, the cycle of abuse. I chose to be a victim by allowing him to treat me so abominably.”

  Marcie picked up the cards and shut her eyes, visualizing herself grounded to the earth. Please, dear God, bring in your angels and spirit guides to protect me. Surround me in a circle of white light, and please provide me with really clear answers for this mess with Dan and how to get out of it. Marcie opened her eyes to two women who were studying her so closely she felt like a frog they’d just dissected in a petri dish. Marcie cut the deck, put it back together, and laid out three cards in front of her: the Knight of Pentacles, the Lovers, and Judgment. “Well, this is interesting. Pentacles are earth, material possession. The knight brings the message, presenting an offer. This man’s already here. He’s hardworking and takes care of details in pursuit of a goal. This is Sam. He stands firm from opposition, will not quit, and is true to his personal convictions.

  “The Lovers are a physical addiction, a man and a woman, similar to the story of Adam and Eve in the garden, fighting to resist temptation; a choice between right and wrong. It represents the need to find out what you care about and face that ethical or moral choice. Which one will you decide? And Judgment—this is a good card, in a way; with the archangel above, all the dead rising up from their coffins, held accountable for their actions. Judgment day’s coming, and burdens will be lifted and released for those who take a stand in the right. A transformation, a day of reckoning, being cleansed, refreshed. What it’s saying is I need to learn this lesson so it’s not repeated. Have I released my past mistakes? I need to so that they’ll be behind me and I’ll be ready to start new.”

  “So what does all this mean?” Diane whispered.

  Marcie laid her hands over the cards. “Past, present, and future gave me a glimpse into me, except I’m not seeing the whole picture. I’m rusty, and I know there’s more. I’ve always had trouble reading me, but sometimes there are instances where we’re not supposed to know.”

  “Now I’m confused. What does that mean?” Diane asked.

  Marcie leaned back and winced before looking thoughtfully at her. Her leg throbbed. “I need to go back to my teacher. It’s time, because what I suspect is at play, and what I can’t see, is beyond time and hours. It’s had history and generations to build. First thing in the morning, we need to go back to Las Seta and see my teacher, Sally Wilcox. She’s waiting for me to return.”

  Maggie arched her dark, shapely brows, jerking her head a few inches forward as if a rope had just yanked her. “She’s a witch,” she said.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  “The whole night was a waste of time.” Richard tossed his keys on the long kitchen counter, where they slid under a stack of bills. His hard mouth was set in a firm line as he opened the light oak cabinet by the sink, reached for a glass, and filled it with water, guzzling it down. “Dan knew something was up. You know how cagey he is. He wouldn’t sit still, kept looking around the dark pub; said his vibes were at a peak and he was positive someone was watching him. There’s no way he saw Sam and Jesse. I couldn’t see them.” Richard toyed with the glass, stared out the kitchen window into the black night, and then let out a heavy sigh before putting it in the sink and turning around.

  Now, after midnight, Marcie struggled to keep her weighted eyelids open. Her head bobbed, and every part of her ached. She wanted nothing more than to go to bed.

  “He even had the nerve to apologize for involving Maggie, but you know Dan and his remarkable way of shifting blame. He said, and I quote: ‘I was in a bind, and I panicked. You have every right to be angry.’” Richard pivoted and jabbed his finger at Marcie. “Also, he made sure to blame you, Marcie. He said you didn’t finish what you were supposed to—bad girl.” Richard sarcastically waggled his index finger.

  Jesse and Sam leaned up against the wall. They looked so tired compared to Richard. Obviously, their adrenaline was not as pumped.

  “Richard, what about the auction he sent you to? We know he wanted you out of the way, but did he offer any explanation?” Diane cleared her throat and combed her fingers through her messy hair.

  “Let me tell you something about Dan; he always has an answer. Not much trips him up, and unless you’re trained to read body language, you wouldn’t know he’s lying. I guess I didn’t see it before. Now, I honestly believe he doesn’t know how to tell the truth. He said he must have screwed up his facts. He was positive the guy at Commercial Irrigation said the auction featured a bankrupt contractor’s tools. Even in the message he left about the investor I was to meet, he said the guy wasn’t returning his calls. Apparently Dan’s been hounding him, leaving messages as to why he didn’t show.”

  “This guy sounds like a sociopath, except I’ve never heard of a man using women to do his dirty work in order to protect him because he’s too scared. Really, this is a new twist.” Diane appeared fascinated.

  “Don’t get too enchanted, Diane. Ever hear of a guy named Charles Manson? That’s exactly how Dan sucks the women in.”

  Diane’s lips thinned, and her cheeks heated. “I’m not stupid, Richard. If this guy’s anything like Manson, he’s fucking dangerous. I’m trying to get into his head so I know how he ticks. And that helps us catch him.”

  Marcie broke the standoff. “Would you two stop bickering? I’d like to hear it all, and no, Diane, you’re not stupid, but I was. Now, if it’s all the same to you, move on. I’m tired, and my leg hurts. Sam, Jesse, what did you pick up from where you sat?”

  Sam didn’t move from his spot by the door, where he leaned against the wall. He watched her with such tender caring that her heart fluttered and she had to remind herself to breathe. “Marcie, you’re tired. You look as if you’re going to keel over.”

  “I am tired, Sam, but I’d like to hear everything.”

  “There’s nothing else, Marcie. Dan’s cell phone rang, and he left.” Richard stood behind Maggie, resting his hands on her shoulders.

  “Marcie, you need to go to bed. Let’s figure out where we go with this in the morning,” Jesse said as he leaned against the counter. His dark eyes appeared unusually brooding.

  Maggie yawned and reached for her husband’s hand. “You know what? We’re all tired. Everyone stays here tonight. We have enough room, and then we can start tomorrow with clearer heads. Sam, help Marcie upstairs to the guest room. I’ll leave some blankets on the sofa for you, Jesse. Sam, if you want to sleep on the second sofa in the living room, you’re welcome to. Diane, I’ll get you settled on the pullout in the den.”

  Maggie was subtle. The choice was theirs to stay together or not. Chairs slid back, and goodnights were exchanged. Then Sam appeared at her side, scooping Marcie out of the chair, his strong arm encircling her waist, and he all but carried her upstairs to bed.

  Sam left the door open when he set her on the edge of t
he bed. He backed up a few steps. Marcie wanted to clear her throat; it seemed to be coated with something thick and warm. She must have stared like a fool. Time slowed, and Sam didn’t move. She ordered herself to take a breath and then another, to be reasonable and clear in what she wanted. She needed Sam, but she realized, as he lowered his head and looked away, that it wouldn’t be tonight.

  “Goodnight, Marcie.” That was all he said before he left and pulled the door closed behind him.

  * * * *

  Marcie’s leg ached fiercely when she woke in the guest room late the next morning. The first thing she saw was the ceramic cross with cherubs and angels mounted on the warm peach wall over the white dresser. She ran her hand over the fluffy pillow beside her and let out a groan from the twinge in her shoulder and the persistent ache that climbed up her leg. If she hadn’t had to pee, she would probably have laid there and wallowed in discomfort. Left with no choice, she tossed back the golden floral duvet and scooted like an old woman out of bed; still wearing Maggie’s sweats.

  Marcie opened the door and hobbled down the hall to the main bathroom. Feeling gross and gritty, she climbed into the shower, allowing the hot spray to ease her aches, careful of the scabbed-over scrapes and cuts. She scrubbed away what she could of the dried blood and dirt from the crash. When Marcie returned to the guest room with her long, wet hair brushed back, her duffel bag rested in the middle of the already made bed.

  She dressed in tan capris wide enough at the leg to fit her cast. A mocha T-shirt, a white sweater overtop, and one sock and running shoe completed her ensemble.

  It was slow going, maneuvering the stairs while she listened to the chatter, the distinct morning rattles of dishes, pots and pans and all manner of the breakfast things. No wonder no one heard her stagger awkwardly on her crutches into the kitchen. But maybe they did; Diane handed her a piece of toast coated with thick strawberry jam, which she gobbled while being ushered out the door by Maggie before she could say good morning to the kids and Maggie’s mom, who was already tending the children.

  Sam, Richard, and Jesse waited outside. Everyone was dressed casually in blue jeans, T-shirts, and windbreakers as they piled into Maggie’s eight-passenger SUV, but not before Sam lifted Marcie into his arms and carried her down the steps while she swallowed the last of her toast. Richard drove them straight to the Sequim marina.

  Everything fell right into place. She didn’t know how Maggie and Diane had managed to convince the men to go and see Sally. What she expected was absolute refusal from the men, saying they wouldn’t even consider wasting their time on some voodoo nutcase. Marcie expected to be going alone, or, at the very least, just with Sam.

  Richard owned a cabin cruiser that he kept docked at the Sequim marina. Marcie sat up top, and Sam faced her. She could see the hurt in his eyes each time he glanced her way, adding to the mass of confusion clouding her powerful feelings for him. She allowed Sam to help her out of the boat once it docked. He passed her the crutches and followed behind. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to accept more right now. She hobbled up the pier to her parked Toyota. Everyone slowed to a snail’s pace so that Marcie wasn’t left in the dust.

  “Okay, so which way to this guy who’s got the information on Dan?”

  Marcie froze, gripped her crutches, and whirled around to look first at Maggie and then Diane. Neither would meet her gaze as Sam, who was now breathing down Marcie’s neck, waited for someone to reply. She blinked, realizing that, while she had wallowed in angst over the barrier between her and Sam, not once had anyone mentioned Sally.

  “I’d still like to know where you found out about this guy who has all this inside information. Was it a phone call you got last night when we were out?” Richard questioned both Maggie and Diane and then frowned when he looked down at Marcie. She knew darn well that her panicky eyes had to be as big as saucers.

  Marcie stuttered, “It was my idea. I told Diane and Maggie last night that it’s time to go back to my teacher. She’s a friend of my granny’s and a prolific, gifted reader who was teaching me the path to enlightenment when Dan snared me with his charms. Before I got on the plane to New Orleans, she begged me not to go, to come home so she could finish teaching me. She knew what I was doing, and she knows what Dan is. Jerome’s come to me several times in my dreams, and he’s told me to go back to Sally. And you know what? None of us knows what Dan’s going to do next. If he needs all the marijuana, he’s going to try something, and, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to be prepared so that he doesn’t catch me off guard again. He’s unpredictable. He’s threatened you, Sam. You too, Richard. He’s dragged Maggie into my mess. And you both know that, with his connection to Lance Silver, he has power behind him. Don’t forget, Richard, what you said last night. If he really is like Charles Manson, we need to expect the unexpected, and Sally can help.” Marcie knew she was rambling.

  That did it. Sam flung his hands in the air while Richard pinned Maggie with his famous unimpressed look. Jesse crossed his arms, smiling smugly. The light danced in his eyes as if he alone understood what she was trying to do.

  “Great, that’s just great. How long’s it going to take us to get back? We just wasted over an hour getting here when we could have been formulating a concrete plan to establish some solid, credible evidence against Dan and his connection to Lance Silver.” Sam smacked the back of his hand into the palm of his other hand and then jabbed his finger at Marcie. “This voodoo bullshit—I got it all the time with Mama, and I’m done with it. Listen up, Marcie. A dead guy comes to you in your dreams, telling you to go back to your teacher, and you listen?” Sam walked away, down the dirt hill, back to the dock. He must have realized no one followed when he stopped halfway down. Marcie continued to the truck. She pulled the back open door at the same time as Diane and Maggie did on the other side of her clunky SUV.

  “Whoa, wait a second. We’re going back. Stop. We’re not getting in the truck. Jesse, Richard, help me out here,” Sam said.

  Marcie slid her crutches onto the floor and dangled her injured ankle out the door. “Sam, we’re here, so if you feel it’s a waste of time, you go back. I’m going to see Sally. I need help, and she can provide answers, whether you believe it or not.” She lifted her leg in and closed the door, grinning at the speed of his hurried return.

  Marcie cranked the window down to air out the stuffy vehicle.

  Sam leaned in, shaking his head; a man resigned to his fate. “We’re staying one hour—that’s it.” Indignant, Sam climbed in on the driver’s side.

  Marcie leaned forward, patted his shoulder, and smiled brightly. “It’s going to be a little crowded.”

  Packed like a can of sardines, Jesse pulled his door closed after he and Diane crammed in the backseat with Marcie. Marcie gave hurried directions to Sally’s place; through one hundred acres of preserved forest, meadows, and green space, off of a quiet cove and by the state park located at the far end of the island. She coveted her privacy and isolation, and people on the island respected her for it.

  “I hope she’s there.” Maggie was perched on Richard’s lap in the front. Her large, dark eyes glanced at her husband.

  “She’ll be there, even though we’re barging in on her with no warning.” Marcie felt confidence pour through her.

  “Well, of course she’ll be there. She’s a psychic. She should know we’re coming. And didn’t you say Jerome told you it was time to see her?” Sam’s sarcastic remark earned him a flick to the back of his ear from Marcie.

  “Don’t be a smartass. Oh, there’s the driveway—on the right.” She gripped the back of his seat, pointing a finger past his face.

  “You mean the trail that’s not passable? That’s not a driveway.”

  “Come on, Sam, just drive in. It’s fine.”

  The ruts jolted the SUV, and bushes scraped both sides of the vehicle, but Sam steered down the narrow trail, which seemed as if no vehicles had ever passed through. It opened into a beautiful grassy clearing full
of fruit trees, mature gardens, a pond, and several outbuildings. Right in the center of this lush property was a large, square-fenced garden filled with vivacious pinks, purples, reds, yellows, and whites. Spectacular flora, fall perennials, and wildflowers danced in the sunlight. A short, compact woman stood in the middle of it, wearing a straw hat, watching them approach.

  Marcie opened the back door when Sam parked in front of the light brown cottage. Before she could step down, Sam appeared at her door, lifted her out, and gently lowered her beside him. She looked up. Her heart pounded when panic licked away her confidence, leaving her feeling shy and awkward. She swallowed hard. “Thanks, Sam. Crutches, please.” Tension still lingered between them, except each show of kindness dissipated her hurt a little more. And he was still here. Maybe he was more intuitive than he let on.

  Gently, he touched her cheek. “We still need to have a talk; just you and me.”

  She froze when she saw something past all the hurt. He suffered, too, and that thought brought a wave of alarm causing her to choke up.

  “Marcie, girl, is that you?”

  She placed the flat of her hand on his chest, feeling the rapid patter of his heart, right before she hobbled around him, toward the warm, gray-haired woman who approached like a fairy godmother with wings.

  “Sally, I’m so sorry to barge in.” She felt a little guilty for intruding as she extended the palm of her hand out to the others, who came around the front of her old, rusty vehicle. Sam flanking her. “These are my friends: Sam, Richard, Maggie, Jesse, and Diane.” Marcie dropped her eyes to the ground before sucking up her courage to face the one person she’d truly let down. “You were right, Sally. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to know.” Marcie’s chin wobbled.

  Sally was a small, plump woman. Her straw hat brushed Marcie’s chin when she hugged her. How long had it been since she’d seen Sally? She hadn’t changed. The same lines on her face seemed to draw Marcie into a storybook life filled with wisdom and experience. Sally was one who followed the guidance of Spirit, never questioning what she was told.