Do Not Disturb(23)

“I can’t say I have,” I say.

“I do not recommend it.”

“Did you have your own room there?”

She adjusts her billowy white nightgown. “I shared a room with Bernie. He was my husband.”

“Oh.” I swallow. “I didn’t realize you were…”

She continues to play with the fabric of her nightgown. “We met at the carnival. I was only nineteen when I met him. I didn’t speak much English. He taught me. We were together for over thirty years.”

“Was he psychic too?”

She smiles distantly. “Oh no. He did not have the gift. He would run games or rides for them or whatever they needed. We were not blessed with any of our own, but he loved the children who came to the carnival. He loved seeing the smiles on their faces. And then…”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “What?”

“One morning, he did not wake up. The doctors said it was his heart.” One side of her lips quirks up although her eyes are wet. “Bernie liked his corn dogs and curly fries. You did not have to be a psychic to know it would do him in. But I am grateful for the years we had together.”

I feel an irrational stab of envy. I can see on Greta’s face how much she loved this man. I never felt that way about Derek. I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel that way about a man. Somehow, true love has eluded me. Maybe I’m immune to it.

“Do not worry.” Greta’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “You will find love. I promise you.”

I cock my head to the side. “Is that what you see in my future?”

“No. You are young and beautiful. Some things are simply obvious.”

Right, but she does not know my past. She does not know what I’m running away from. If she knew, she might not be so optimistic about my future.

The thought of what I left behind makes Greta’s delicious lunch churn in my stomach. I should not be sitting here chit chatting with an old woman. I’ve got to get back on the road. I look down at my watch. “I should check in with Nick. Maybe the plow has arrived.”

“No. It has not.”

“But maybe—”

“I am able to hear the plow through my window. Trust me—it has not arrived.”

I wipe my hands on my jeans and get to my feet. “I better get going anyway. But… thank you for lunch. Would you like me to bring the plates downstairs to the kitchen?”

“No, please don’t bother yourself. Nick will fetch them later.” She arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure you will not let me read your fortune?”

I hesitate. It was a firm no before, but I’ve gotten to know Greta. I like her. And she seems to really want to do this. So why not? It’s better than sitting around my room, pacing back-and-forth as I wait for the plow to arrive.

“Okay,” I say. “Sure. Go for it.”

Greta smiles at me. “You will not regret this.”

That remains to be seen.

She reaches out to dim the yellow lamp by her bed. And now the room is strictly mood lighting. I am sitting beside her on the bed, and she reaches out to take my hands in hers. Her skin feels so delicate, like tissue paper.

“Relax your mind,” she instructs me.

“How do I relax my mind?”

“Clear out all thoughts. Make your mind blank.”

Easier said than done. “Okay…”

She closes her eyes, but I keep mine open. She tilts her head back and her eyelids flutter. “Yes. You are very accessible to read. You are an open book.”

Oh. Wonderful.

“I see…” Her eyelids flutter again. “There is a man in your past. A very handsome man.”

“Yes…” I’m not impressed quite yet. There are plenty of handsome men out there.

“Yes, yes…” Her fingers apply pressure to mine. “He was somebody you loved, but you don’t love him anymore. He is…”

My breath catches in my throat, and I’m suddenly hanging on her every word.

“You are frightened of this man.” Her eyes crack open. “You feel he means to bring you harm.”

I swallow. “Well…”

“But the question is,” she goes on, “will he? What lies in the future for you and the handsome man?”

The pressure of her fingers on mine grows uncomfortable. I want to pull my hands away but I don't dare break the spell. Suddenly, she lets go of my hands and jumps away from me, like I’m made of fire. Her eyes fly open. “You must go!”

“What?” I stare at her uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

She takes a step back, like she’s almost afraid of me. “You go now. You… you are… danger.”

I stand up, my legs trembling beneath me. “You mean I’m in danger?”

“I’m sorry.” She backs up again until she hits the wall. Or the mirror, as it were. “You must go now, Quinn. Go! Go out of here!”

“But…”

“Get out!” she shrieks. “You must go! Get away from this place!”

The veins are standing out in her neck, and her eyes are bulging out in their sockets. I don’t even understand what’s happening. Why is she freaking out like this? It was her idea to tell my fortune!