The Fortune Teller(56)

A pastor and Freemason named Antoine Court de Gébelin loved to air his thoughts at the salon. On this particular day, however, he sat in quiet repose and enjoyed Aishe’s playing.

Aishe was stationed near the door with her harp. The sunlight streamed through the window behind her, and her fingers flew over the strings with easy grace. When two young gentlemen entered the room, she almost played a wrong chord.

She tried not to stare, but her eyes kept wandering to the taller of the two men. She couldn’t help it. He looked just like the husband she’d conjured in her dreams all those nights with her cousins. Now here he stood in the flesh.

When they locked eyes she did play the wrong chord. She quickly covered her mistake but caught him smiling. He seemed to know he had been the cause.

He was introduced around the room, and Aishe overheard that he was from Russia and his name was Andrej Cernik. A thick accent laced his French. Andrej continued to stare at Aishe the whole time he spoke. His attention made her blush. When his gaze drifted to her hand, she knew he was wondering how she’d gotten such a horrible scar. She wished she could cover it. Every day, the scar reminded her how alone she was, how her family was lost forever.

She closed her eyes and played faster, imagining Simza dancing and twirling like a dervish as she had loved to whenever Aishe let her music fly.

Court de Gébelin stood up and hovered at the table where a small group had gathered to play cards. He stared at the deck spread out before Mme Helvétius’ hands.

Mme Helvétius glanced up with an inquisitive smile. “You wish to play?”

“These cards,” he said.

“Aren’t they intriguing? I bought them on my last trip to Germany. They’re called the tarot.”

Court de Gébelin picked up one of the painted cards and read the words under the image. “The Hermit.” It showed an old man holding a lantern in the dark. Then he picked up another of a magician. “The Magician,” he murmured.

Court de Gébelin had never seen these cards before. To the average eye they looked exotic.

“May I?” He derailed the game, taking all twenty-two face cards and laying them out together. By now everyone was crowded around the table; even Aishe had stopped playing.

Court de Gébelin grew convinced that the cards were symbols, and that hidden within them was a secret wisdom from remote antiquity, from Egypt. He shared his belief with such conviction that soon he had everyone in the room convinced of his hypothesis.

Mme Helvétius looked at her cards with newfound curiosity. “How did such cards come to Europe in the first place?”

“Must have been the gypsies,” Andrej’s friend proposed.

Aishe smiled at that but remained silent.

Andrej noticed. “You find that idea amusing?” He stepped closer to her.

Turning pink, Aishe demurred but said nothing. Her people had not traded these exotic cards. She had seen only one of these decks in her life, the one in Dinka’s chest.

Andrej’s gaze swept over her red hair and delicate features. “Would you play for me once more? I have never heard such beautiful music.”

Aishe nodded shyly and began to play a soulful Rom melody, one of Simza’s favorites, a tune called “Find Me in the Wind.”

As Aishe played, Court de Gébelin became even more certain he’d made a miraculous discovery, and he announced that he would write about the cards in his next volume of essays. The essays would start a wildfire that would soon burn through Paris and into Europe and beyond.

That day in Mme Helvétius’ salon, two stars collided. Antoine Court de Gébelin met my descendent, and the future of fortune telling was born.





Message to VS—

Interesting call from Beinecke.

Reply from VS—

Excellent. Notify me when back in NY.

She should have them by then.





Temperance

Semele could almost hear the harp playing, the scene was so vivid in her mind. She had rushed to translate Aishe’s story but was unable to finish before it was time to head to her mother’s. As she rode in the cab, she wondered what happened to Aishe after Mme Helvétius’ salon. Had she stayed in Paris? And what happened to the cards in Dinka’s chest?

The cab turned down her street, interrupting her thoughts. They arrived at a two-story turn-of-the-century classic New England home in East Rock near Yale. The house had been a constant in Semele’s life. Over the years, her parents had lovingly renovated every room and painted the outside powder blue. The color only made the house, with its wraparound porch and original woodwork, more picturesque.

The porch light turned on and Helen came outside.

Semele couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her chest. She still wasn’t ready.

Her mother hurried to the curb before Semele could shut the door. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, giving Semele a hesitant squeeze, unsure if her embrace would be welcome.

Semele hugged her back. “You too,” she said automatically.

Like Semele, Helen was petite in stature and wore her hair pixie short. She always dressed in linen pants and flowing batik blouses that made her look as if she were on vacation somewhere fabulous like Morocco. But tonight her colorful blouse and pristine makeup couldn’t hide the strain in her eyes. She looked thinner and more fragile than the last time Semele had seen her, which made Semele’s guilt return tenfold. She had abandoned her mother in her most desperate time of need.