Abby wasn’t really sure what she was expecting from the event on Saturday. She hadn’t wanted to get there too early, although it was hard to say why. Maybe she didn’t want all those mediums sizing her up as she walked it. That’s why she’d set the time for eleven—and drafted Sarah to ride shotgun for her. She hadn’t bothered to ask Sarah what her attitude toward psychic phenomena in general was. Given her capabilities, at least with her son, she couldn’t be a naysayer, but how open was she to new ideas?
She felt like a fake. So she’d done a little reading, either in books she’d downloaded or using online sites. She knew the bare outlines, but not enough about any one thing. She wanted to be open-minded, because she knew just how real her experiences—and Ellie’s—had been, but she really didn’t trust a group of people she didn’t know, and who seemed to be set up in competition with each other. How many other curious people would show up? A horde or a scant few? It was prime sports season, so that might eliminate some parents of school-age kids.
Why on earth was she dithering? Abby busied herself with a few last swipes at housecleaning (why was it things always looked worse in bright sunlight? or hadn’t those cobwebs been there the day before?) and doing as much prep for dinner as she could. She wasn’t sure what had inspired Ned to suggest adding Sarah to the mix, since she didn’t know Kevin. But Ned hadn’t objected, and if she was going to go to all the trouble of fixing the place up and cooking, the more the merrier. It hadn’t occurred to her that she wanted another woman present so she wouldn’t be outnumbered by the Science Guys. The whole point of starting this project had been to explore both the intuitive side and the analytical science side and see where (if at all) the two intersected.
Sarah arrived a few minutes before eleven, looking eager. Each time she saw Sarah, Abby was struck by how strongly Ned resembled her—the same aquiline features, the same way of considering any statement or question before speaking. “Coffee?” Abby offered.
“If it’s made. I’m really kind of excited about this whole thing. Is that silly?”
“Not at all. Just natural curiosity. I guess my feelings are more mixed.”
Sarah followed Abby to the kitchen. “Why?”
Abby filled two mugs with coffee, which was still warm from breakfast. “I’m not really sure. I know this is real, but I’m not looking forward to trying to defend myself, either against doubters or against anyone who is trying to fool me. I’m not very good at conflict.”
“Why do you expect conflict? Why aren’t you visualizing a nice bunch of little old ladies who like Ouija boards?”
Abby smiled reluctantly. “I’m not really sure. I’m still working through this whole thing, and then there’s Ellie to consider—she sees more than she should, for a child her age, even if she isn’t quite sure how or why. It’s like treading on eggshells. If I move too far or too fast to help her, Leslie may get pissed off and stop me—and Ned—from seeing her at all. So I can’t say as much as I’d like.”
“I see the problem. Explain to me what you and Ned think you’re doing?”
“As far as I can tell, people have been experimenting and taking part in psychic events in this country since the middle of the nineteenth century, and it’s still going on. There’s been research done by some credible scientists, but never a lot, and never conclusive. I got sucked into it when it first happened, and then when Ned told me he shared it, by the whole genealogy thing, which has held up pretty well. Although a scientist would say the sample is too small, plus we’re prejudiced. But since conveniently Ned is a DNA expert, I want him to look at that particular angle.”
“Makes sense. Who’s this guy who’s coming to dinner?”
“An old friend of Ned’s, who happens to be a genius of some sort with brain scans. Maybe Ned’s mentioned him? Kevin Johansen?”
Sarah nodded. “I think I’ve heard his name. Where does Ned think he fits in this equation?”
“I’m not sure. Kevin’s some kind of genius with high-tech machines, I gather. And with the right ones he can see what parts of the brain react to stimuli, and maybe we can correlate that to something else. Or maybe he thinks pretty color pictures would be cool. I haven’t met Kevin yet, so I really don’t know.”
“Well, it should be an interesting meal.”
“You’re staying?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Sarah drained her cup. “You ready?”
“I guess so. It’s being held on the edge of town, in a Victorian house a local realtor is trying to sell, so I guess they borrowed it for atmosphere. I can drive.”
“Fine. Do we have a battle plan? Like, try to meet with as many mediums as possible, but make sure you and I don’t overlap? Or do we want to talk to the same people and see if they say the same thing to both of us?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far. Why don’t we see how crowded it is and take it from there?”
“That works for me.”
The house was a handsome Queen Anne Victorian, recently spiffed up with a new coat of paint. Abby had been admiring it for a while as she drove past, but she’d never been inside it. From the number of cars parked along the residential street, the event was popular, and once again Abby wondered just what she had gotten herself into. She turned off the engine but didn’t hurry to get out. “So, which things would you like to try, Sarah?”
“What’s on the menu?” Sarah asked.
“I’m not sure. Card reading, I’d guess. Probably palm reading. Scrying?”
“What’s that?”
“That’s the crystal ball thing, although it can be looking into just about anything. Or there’s touching something to get a reading. If you’ve got something in your bag that isn’t yours, you might see what kind of response you get. And of course, there’s always the plain old clairvoyance, looking at the past or the present. You can ask if anyone on the other side has a message for you.”
“Oh, so I can talk to them?”
“I think so. They may ask you if you have any questions for them. Or the spirits.”
“Hmm. Do you have a plan?”
“I’m not sure how many there will be, but I want to talk to as many as I can before my brain gets fried and I can’t remember who said what. I’m guessing three or four each will do it.”
“Can we take notes? Or does that mess up the mood?”
“I don’t know. You can ask. Or maybe you can jot down a few notes after you’re done with each one.”
“And if one is obviously faking it?”
“Relax and enjoy it. We can meet up when we’re both done and go get a coffee or something. Just remember—as far as I can tell, these people do take what they’re doing seriously. I know you’re too polite to laugh at anyone, but there may be others who aren’t. Or kids who just want to make fun of them. I hope there’s somebody coordinating this so they’ll weed out those. Ready?”
“I hope so!”
They got out of the car and walked the half block to the house. Abby made a mental note not to allow herself to get distracted by the details of woodwork and such, but she was always looking for ideas for Ned’s house. Their house? She certainly had a physical relationship with the house, as the grime permanently embedded under her nails showed.
The broad wooden front door stood open, and just inside there was a desk with two people behind it. “Welcome! Come in,” one of the women said. “You’re here for a reading?”
“More than one, I’m hoping,” Abby told her. “Is that okay?”
“There’s a charge for each one, but you can have three at a discount. Ten dollars each, or twenty-five for three. If you didn’t know it, part of the proceeds from today’s event go toward the town’s food pantry. The rest goes to the medium.”
Abby felt ashamed that she hadn’t read that far. “Do I sign up for specific people, or do I take pot luck?”
“Some of our readers are pretty well booked up for the day. What kind of a reading were you looking for?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. What do you recommend?”
“For a new person?” The woman looked down at the large chart in front of her on the desk. “Well, Melissa has a slot for a card reading coming up. Then there’s Bertha at noon—she likes to read objects, yours or someone else’s, up to you. And if you want something simple, there’s Christine—she might want to look at your palm, so tell me if that bothers you. The touching part, I mean. Some people don’t like to be touched by strangers.”
Abby suppressed a smile—if only the woman knew! “No, no, it all sounds fine. Let me take all three.” Abby handed over three ten-dollar bills, listening with half an ear to the other woman explaining the same thing to Sarah. Apparently the desk wardens were handling different people, so there was no overlap. As the woman handed Abby her change, Abby asked, “How does this work? Are they all together in a room or spread out?”
“We’ve tried to give each reader a room of her own—more private that way, and less distraction. You’ll find Melissa in the last room on the right—that’s the kitchen. Here’s the layout.” The woman handed Abby a photocopy of a hand-drawn map, showing who was where. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. Melissa should be wrapping up in a couple of minutes, so you can go stand outside her door.”
“Thank you.” Abby checked her house map: the house appeared to be a mirror image of Ned’s, and she wondered if the same architect had built them both. Sarah passed her, headed for the next door on the left, and winked at her without saying anything. Abby stationed herself outside the kitchen door and watched the few people she could see. She didn’t recognize anyone, but she hadn’t spent long in the town. Most of them were women, but their ages varied from twenty-something to well past sixty. None of them looked upset as they left their reading. Were the psychics dispensing only good news? Maybe it was all just a game for them, an adventure for a free afternoon, something to talk about with friends later. Did anyone here take this stuff seriously?
Finally a woman about her own age came out of the kitchen, gave her a perfunctory smile, and went down the hall quickly. Abby walked into the room to find a woman seated at a card table draped with a dark tablecloth in the middle of the kitchen.
“You’re Melissa?” Abby asked.
The woman nodded and gestured toward the chair opposite her. “Sit down, please. In case nobody explained, I read cards, and I tell you what I see happening to you in the future, although I can’t tell you exactly when. Have you ever done this before?”
“I don’t think so,” Abby started to say, but then she had a quick flash of memory. “Actually, no. I think my mother used to do it with some of her friends—bridge ladies who got tired of bridge, or had had an extra glass of wine at lunch. I don’t think they took it very seriously, but it looked like they were having fun.”
“They never invited you to take part?”
“No. My mother kept telling me I was too young, and had too much future ahead of me, and besides, she knew me too well to be objective. You don’t look any older than me—how long have you been doing this?”
“I started in high school, with some of my friends. You know, we’d dabble with the Ouija board, and try to call up spirits, but we usually got bored when nothing happened.”
“But you stuck to it?”
“I did. More of my predictions came true than anyone else’s. So I’ve been practicing. I’m not a professional—actually I’m a computer programmer—but I still do it for friends, and for things like this. Come on, let’s get started.”
“What do I do?”
“Get comfortable, first. I’m going to let you shuffle twice, then cut the deck into three piles. Okay? Oh, and don’t turn them over.”
“Sure.” Abby took the deck that Melissa handed her, shuffled it, then split it into three piles, which she left facedown. Melissa reached for each pile and turned it over. She didn’t say anything immediately, but studied the three exposed cards. “This is your past, your present, and your future,” she said, tapping each one in turn. “That past one, the seven of hearts—somebody was unfaithful to you. Right?” Melissa looked up at Abby, who made a noncommittal noise. Everyone had been betrayed by someone in their past, hadn’t they? That didn’t mean Melissa meant Brad.
Melissa didn’t seem upset that Abby didn’t gush with enthusiasm. She went on calmly. “The present one, the five of spades—looks like things are going pretty well for you, but there are some other people in the way. You’ll just have to work through that to get what you want.” Abby nodded silently. Again, a safe, non-specific answer.
“Now, the last one, your future—the king of clubs, that’s an honest and generous man. Definitely one of the good guys. You know who I mean.” Abby smiled, but didn’t say anything again. Of course Melissa would give her a future hunk who would make her happy.
Melissa cocked her head at Abby. “You’re not convinced.”
Abby shrugged. “No, I guess not. I can’t say you’re wrong, but what you’ve said could pretty much apply to anyone who walked in the door.”
Melissa nodded. “So you’re a skeptic. That’s okay—I get a lot of that. Shuffle again and pull out one card at random.”
Abby complied, and pulled out the jack of diamonds. “A fair-haired guy?” she said.
“Not exactly, but most people assume the face cards refer to specific people. No, this one is more often considered to mean ‘pleasant troubles.’ I know, that seems contradictory, but if you don’t mind my interpreting it, I’d say you’re working on something, and the work is unfinished or unresolved, but you’re enjoying the process. I’m not going to say that it’ll all work out in the end, but you won’t be unhappy with the results. That make sense to you?”
“I think so. Is our time up?”
“Yup. We all do twenty minutes, then we get a break to clear our heads. What do you think?”
“About what you told me? I don’t really know. Tell me, do you ever give anyone a lousy story—you know, disasters all over the place, death and destruction, that kind of thing?”
“Most people’s cards don’t show me that. Maybe that kind of unlucky person knows better than to ask to have their fortune told. Good luck to you, but I don’t think you’ll need it.”
“Thank you,” Abby said, standing up. She walked out the door and stood in the hall checking her list and to see where her next psychic was located. Upstairs, back bedroom on the right.