The Fortune Teller(69)

Near the door, there was a bulletin board with the name and a short bio of each psychic that was available to give readings that day. Below their bios, the psychics had listed their expertise—if they specialized in palmistry, tarot, astrology charts, channeling, or past-life regression, or if they were clairaudient or clairvoyant.

Semele read the roster with raised eyebrows, about to lose her nerve. She chose a psychic named Doreen, who specialized primarily in tarot readings, and paid thirty dollars at the register for a thirty-minute consultation.

In the glass case by the register were over fifty different kinds of tarot decks with varying artwork. Semele leaned down to read some of the titles: the Crystal Tarot, the Mythic Tarot, the Fairytale Deck. There was also a Renaissance deck depicting Greek and Roman deities, and one designed to look like stained-glass windows. There were even steampunk and The Lord of the Rings decks—too many to choose from. She saw that they had a replica of the Visconti Deck, right next to the Tarot de Marseilles.

The shop clerk noticed her interest. “Rider-Waite is the perfect deck to start with. It’s the ABCs of tarot. A classic.”

Semele gave her a faint smile.

*

A plump woman in her sixties sat at a table for two in a room smaller than a walk-in closet. Doreen had on a bright floral blouse and was sipping a tumbler of iced tea with a big straw. All she was missing was a sun visor and the cruise ship to go with it. She stood up with a warm smile when Semele entered and motioned to the other chair in the tiny space. “Welcome. Please have a seat.”

Semele sat down and watched Doreen dim the lights and light a candle. Soft celestial-sounding music played in the background. She looked at Doreen’s tarot cards with open curiosity and saw they were the same cards the shop clerk had recommended. “What kind of deck is that?”

Doreen seemed surprised by the question. “I use the Rider-Waite Deck.”

“What century is it from?”

Doreen’s eyebrows shot up. “These originated in the early 1900s.”

“In Italy?”

“In England.” Doreen smiled, thinking Semele must be nervous. “May we hold hands?”

The question surprised her, but Semele nodded and Doreen folded her hands into her soft palms. The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she exhaled and took another.

Semele watched her, not sure what was happening. This was not how she thought the reading would go. Wasn’t Doreen supposed to deal out the tarot cards? Semele tried hard to sit still, not wanting to distract her.

The celestial music created a hypnotic calm, and Semele’s eyes settled on the burning candle. The room began to take on a dreamlike quality as she watched the wax melt.

“You’ve lost someone close to you,” Doreen said, her voice sad and distant.

Semele’s chest seized with emotion.

“He died too soon. He’s worried for you. His presence is strong. He wants to tell you he’s sorry.… So sorry.”

Semele’s grief returned with a power that was physically painful. She could feel her father. She could feel him behind the words. She waited breathlessly to hear more.

Instead Doreen opened her eyes and said gently, “I’m sorry, that’s all I see.” She let go of Semele’s hands, then picked up the tarot cards and began to shuffle. “Why don’t we begin?”

Semele wasn’t ready to move on to the cards. In a sharp instant she had felt her father. She wanted to call the moment back, to live there and speak with him.

Doreen held the cards out to her. “Please shuffle the deck,” she instructed. “Think about what you want to know.”

Semele had difficulty focusing on the task. She ended up shuffling the cards, her mind blank, and handed them back.

Doreen laid a series of cards out facedown in a crosslike pattern. She turned over the first card. The Hanged Man.

“You are in a place of great confusion … questioning everything about your life. You’re starting to see the world differently.”

Semele was still in a daze but thought that seemed pretty on the mark.

The next card was The Chariot. “I see a time of fast movement, travel. You will leave your work, your job. This will happen suddenly.”

Semele’s eyes met Doreen’s. “What do you mean ‘leave’?”

Was she getting fired?

Doreen didn’t answer. She was too caught up in the reading. She turned over the next card.

The Devil. This one was upside down.

“Every aspect of your life is challenging you. You must break free from your attachments to discover your true self.”

What attachments? She had just dumped her almost-fiancé at a cáfe. Semele wished Doreen would slow down. The woman was turning over cards with remarkable speed, and Semele was still reeling from being told her father was trying to reach her from the grave.

The Hermit. “You must walk your path alone, but you are afraid of the knowledge that exists inside you. You must leave the world you know to find the one that waits for you.”

Leave the world? Semele frowned. That didn’t sound good.

Doreen studied the next card with thoughtful eyes. The Hierophant. “You have a teacher in your life. A woman. She has been guiding you. She has much to tell you, but you are not yet ready to listen.”

Semele raised her eyebrows. Did she mean Ionna?