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Vishnu and Shanti, the kirtan singers, asked Jamie to stay onstage to sing their first song with them. Inundated with an excess of light and energy, he wanted to say no, but sharing his voice was part of his job. The couple sparkled like a fireworks display as they began the vibrant call-and-response in Sanskrit. Jamie managed to improvise around the melody, but he had to close his eyes. Even then, he felt the singers’ souls as a double undulation. The effect made him feel slightly ill, as if he were on a roller coaster ride.
When the song ended, he left the stage and sat in the front row. As soon as he could get his bearings, he’d need to try to find a quiet place and shut his visions down. The people surrounding him sang along with the next song, rocking with the rhythm, their souls mingling in an aurora that swayed with them. Jamie looked down at the dirt. It felt more alive than it ought to, but at least it held still.
Heather ran up and crouched in front of him. Her inner light vibrated like a small motor. She whispered urgently, “Jill passed out at the end of her talk.”
His soul vision dimmed to a lower wattage. “Good. Hope she hit her fucking head.”
“Jamie—”
“Sorry.”
“Kate’s been trying to reach you. Dahlia did something witchy and Jill fainted. Hilda says the angels are back and she doesn’t know what to do about it. What’s going on?”
“Fuck me dead.” He led Heather away from the sing-along. “Mae did it.” After Dahlia fucked with Jill. Not Naomi, Jill. He was happier about it than a decent human being ought to be, but he couldn’t help it.
“Did what?”
Jamie hugged Heather as hard as he wanted to squeeze Mae. “Unwitched Dahlia.” His joy over Mae’s success quickly flattened. Hilda had been returned to a spirit-swamped state, with no idea how to get out of it.
Heather wriggled out of the hug. “What are you talking about?”
The board and its advisors had kept the secret well. She was clueless. “Tell you later. After I talk to Kate.”
“You’d better.” Heather’s fast-idling glow skipped and stuttered. “You owe me something after you ruined Jill for me.”
Heather excused herself to see to other business. Jamie couldn’t regret that he’d ruined Jill for her. He looked down at his bracelet. If Kandy had lived to tell her own story, Jill would have been discredited years ago. The auras of the kirtan singers and the crowd pushed at him like a swarm of beach balls borne on thick waves of light, crashing up against his sudden sadness. Time to slip away and close the inner door.
Before he could take half a step, a cool, limp hand touched his arm. He jerked around. Dahlia. Her hair was shorter, rippling out from under a hat that matched her pale gold dress and dainty sandals. She took off her sunglasses and started to speak, then stopped.
Something was different about her, and it wasn’t the hair. She didn’t feel like a zombie anymore. Her soul was still cold, but in a sad, gray way like the tail end of winter. Like Boston in March. He’d gone there with his parents years ago and had been depressed by the heavy sky and the crusty black ice protruding from the curbs after the snow had melted. Dahlia’s energy was like that, except in one place. Behind her sternum sat something like a single green pea. It made no sense, but it was how he saw her. Boston dirt ice and a green pea. Nothing else.
“Did you see it?” she asked finally.
“No—it’s left you.”
“What do you mean?”
Mentioning it made him shiver. “The owl.”
“What about ... the other?”
“Mm. Dunno. Can’t tell if that’s you or some bit of him. Little green spot, though, something healthy.”
It was her turn to shiver. “I hope he’s gone.”
She looked Jamie over. He felt her attention pause at his belly and then snag on his braided beard, or maybe his chin, before meeting his eyes. “So you really are a shaman.”
“Sort of. Bloody incompetent one.”
“Is that cat your power animal or not? Mae said it isn’t.”
“He’s my friend.” Jamie slid his hands into his pockets. “That was bad, what you did to him, y’know. He’s a good little bloke and you really hurt him.”
Dahlia sat on the edge of the nearest bench. “I never thought you’d be so emotional about it.”
“Jeezus. You ever feel anything?”
She shook her head, pinching her shoulders in toward her chest.
“You got upset when I talked about your parents.”
Her face showed nothing, but the dirt ice energy contracted, like a bizarre rigid jellyfish that had been poked.
Jamie kept his voice soft, the way he would when talking to an animal. “Bet ya—up in the attic, packed in a box, there’s a little Lily with a heart.”
She jumped to her feet, color flushing her almost inanimate face. “That is so stupid.”
Something moved him to grasp her in a bear hug. She was so delicate, he felt he was overpowering her with his size, his heat, and his strength, but it didn’t stop him. He wasn’t hurting her. She made a small, incoherent noise and began to tremble. He let loose the full force of whatever moved through him. It wasn’t possible for him to love her, yet this power did.
She wept, and some chips of the dirt ice fractured into him, sharp, heavy, and painful. It hurt enough that he shed a few tears with her, and the ice chips melted. Relieved, Jamie let go of her, took a wadded bandana from his jeans pocket—the thing he’d used to wipe the sweat off his face when he danced—and handed it to her. She slightly scrunched her nose, blew it, and then turned to drop his bandana in a nearby trash can.
“Want to go see your dad?” he asked. “We’ve got a few minutes before he’s on. It’d make his day.”
She took a compact from her purse and checked her face in the mirror. Her eye makeup was smudged. “I need to fix myself up first. And my mother had better not be there. Or Daddy’s cat.”
“Can’t promise about your Mum, but I’ll take care of the cat.” If he sent Harold and Lily out for a walk, he could sit alone with Cara, give her a touch-up, and close his visions.
They started toward the classroom buildings. Lily put her sunglasses back on and walked at a distance that discouraged conversation. Compared to Cara, she’d been hard to heal. Jamie had barely made a dent in Lily. He thought of referring her to Gorman but changed his mind. She could find her own shrink. She might not be a zombie vampire anymore, but he still didn’t like the idea of running into her in the waiting room.
*****
Mae was amazed to find some open space in the middle of a fourth-row bench, just in time for Harold’s performance. After introducing Harold, Jamie stepped aside, fidgeting with his bracelet while the audience cheered and clapped at Harold’s entrance.
The applause eased off. Harold thanked the crowd for their reception and began to give some background on his choice of songs. He wrapped up his introductory talk with, “A special hey to Mae Martin, my fellow hillbilly,” and launched into an upbeat gospel tune, with Jamie in the background playing hand drums. Jamie looked tired, though it was something only Mae would notice about the set of his shoulders, the limited scope of his smile. She hadn’t had a chance to be with him all day, or even to talk on the phone other than to leave messages. I love you. I’m proud of you. You helped me more than you know.
Lily made her way past the people on Mae’s right. Even though there was more room on that side, she stepped over Mae’s legs and squeezed her petite backside into a nonexistent space to Mae’s left, without excusing herself to the person she was shoving. “What was Daddy talking about? You know him?”
“Sure. Met him through Jamie.” Mae slid a little to her right. “Let’s scoot over some, give those folks some room.”
“Not too much. I’m making sure Mother can’t sit with me.”
Naomi danced up the row, waving her hands in I-got-the-spirit finger-wiggles. She plopped beside Mae and talked across her. “This is so exciting, isn’t it, Lily? All of us here.”
Lily shrugged and averted her eyes to watch Harold.
Naomi asked Mae, “Was Jill all right? I didn’t hear any ambulances.”
Mae hesitated, not sure how much she should explain. “The doctor didn’t find anything.”
“Good. I can’t wait to tell everyone at home I heard a preview of that book. That was one lucky young lady that got to study with her that way.”
Lily told Naomi to stop talking and gave Mae an elbow in the side. In a way Mae was grateful. She liked Harold and didn’t want to be rude to him, or to miss another note of his performance. His rough-edged voice was perfect for the songs. It sounded lived in, like he’d seen enough hard times to appreciate a blessing.
Lily opened her purse and took out a tiny object like a miniature test tube filled with pale gold liquid. She reached across Mae and handed it to Naomi.
“Jeteuse. Free sample.” So much for being quiet while her father was singing. “The designer bottles aren’t coming out until the marketing blitz.”
I hope that’s really perfume and not Lily’s pee.
Naomi mouthed an ostentatiously silent thank you and blew Lily a kiss, beaming as if some free bit of swag was a generous gift. The girl withdrew to hide behind Mae.
Harold invited Jamie to sing with him on the next song. Looking a little dazed, he joined Harold at the mic, gave him a nod and a partial smile, and they began to sing a cappella.
“No matter how far in sins you fall
Your loving God forgives them all
Like the prodigal son, like the prodigal son, like the prodigal son.”
As he harmonized, Jamie brightened, but not all the way. Mae sensed the clouds in him, and could see him working at being happy. After he’d shared his story and his song for Kandy, Mae had momentarily imagined he’d be healed in some deep, miraculous way, but of course he wasn’t. He’d taken a big step, but there were many more to go.
The audience began to clap along with the beat. Naomi stood, swinging her hips, clapping above her head and flinging her hair. With a practiced adolescent eye roll, Lily tapped Mae on the arm and then rose and walked off. Startled, Mae scrambled past the other people in the row and ran after her.
“Where are you going? You just got back together with your daddy after months, and your mama is so excited to see you—”
“She’s excited to see herself. I’m just a prop. Daddy’s just a prop. Jill was a prop. She even thinks knowing Jamie makes her cool and he’s only halfway famous. Can’t you see what she’s like? She makes me sick.”
“Okay, so you don’t get along with her. But your daddy’s still singing.”
“Like I’ve never heard him before?”
“Still, I don’t think he expected you to walk out.”
Jamie took the melody so Harold could sing deep bass, and then Harold came back on melody for Jamie to take the high notes. Lily strode toward the parking lot, extracting her keys from the key pocket on the outside of her little purse. “Serves him right. He was gone for half my life.”
“I know he was, but he’s trying to reconnect with you—”
“Then he’ll forgive me. Like the prodigal son, right?” Lily slowed down as she drew close to a dark blue Mini Cooper, clicked its key to unlock it, and opened the back. It was full of suitcases. “He already said he’ll come see me in New York.”
“You’re moving there?”
“Of course. You didn’t think I’d stay here, did you? I mean, the desert air is so bad for skin. And I got what I needed, right? Jeteuse. I’m on top. I don’t need power anymore.” Mae didn’t know what to say, but her face must have shown her disbelief. Avoiding Mae’s eyes, Lily reached behind her suitcases in the tiny compartment, shoving a few boxes of shoes aside. “I guess what I mean is ... my career will probably last longer without it.”
You keep on believing that. “I’m sure it will.”
Lily brought out a tiny brown shopping bag and handed it to Mae. “Sorry this isn’t gift wrapped. I ran out of time.”
“Lily, I—”
With an exasperated sigh, Lily shut her car. “Open it.”
Half-fearing to find little carved bones or twisted ropes of hair, Mae took a small brown box from the bag and opened it. Inside it lay a set of simple, elegant accessories in green turquoise framed in silver: earrings, a pendant, and the bracelet Lily had urged her to buy. Stunned, Mae closed the box and sought Lily’s eyes, but the girl was looking at their feet.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“You’ll have to come see me in New York. I’ll take you to my stylist, get you a makeover. And I’m going to get you to a Pilates class, seriously. You need to stop building so much muscle.”
Mae almost laughed. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
“You’re welcome.” Lily offered her arms tentatively, and Mae received her wilted hug with such amazement she had to remind herself to hug her back. Lily’s voice stayed cool and flat, but her volume dropped as if her words were too heavy for her. “Everybody wants to use me or fix me or fuck me. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who actually wanted to be my friend.”
Mae held her tighter. She’d thought Lily must have some selfish motive for connecting with her and had told Kate she couldn’t call the feeling she had for the girl friendship, but in Lily’s eyes it had been.
*****
Kate didn’t schedule any clients during the final musical performance. She’d promised her sponsor she’d take time to enjoy life and not work herself into a relapse, and she hadn’t done much to keep that promise today.
While Gaia Greene chanted, drummed, and slowly spun, tiny bells jingled on her regalia. Jamie harmonized in an unearthly minor key. Then Gaia gave him her drum. She moved like a cross between a bird and a whirlwind while Jamie, still chanting, accelerated the beat. Her dance reached a crescendo, stopped, and Jamie shifted back into a slow, steady pulse. When Gaia took her drum back, Jamie played shakuhachi, ethereal and shrill. Gaia danced while drumming. Something about her high, slow steps gave Kate the image of a puppet operated by spirits. She glanced at Hilda. The artist looked strained, the way she had at her first AA meeting
The last song came to an end. Gaia took one deep bow and left the stage by its back steps. Jamie kept holding his arms out to her as she vanished, sending the applause after her. When it finally faded, he faced the audience, swept off his hat and waved it with a twirl. “Thanks. Love ya. Drive safe. Come back tomorrow. Catcha.”
More applause followed him off the stage. Kate knew he couldn’t hear her, but she gave him a cheer. He’d done his job and more: his opening set, all the introductions, a song or two with most of the performers, and then the closing number with Gaia, an exhausting schedule even without the emotional stress of his first speech. Aside from a few spacey moments midway, he’d held up. Jangarrai one, Jill Betts, zero.
The sun was setting. Kate left her things on her table—she had little to pack—and went to help Hilda. She started with the few CDs that were left. “Are you hanging in all right?”
“Not really.” Hilda took a framed print from the wall of the booth, slid it into a cardboard art box, and poured packing peanuts in around it. “It’s actually depressing to have them back. I was starting to like ordinary reality.”
“They don’t make you want to drink now, do they?”
“Not yet. If they don’t go away, though, they could.”
Tim joined them and began to help Hilda pack her prints. She’d sold a lot. Kate wondered if the angels—or the light-sound creatures, as she thought of them now—were pleased, and if they wanted Hilda to paint them again and to recreate more of their music.
Mae and Jamie approached, holding hands. Kate excused herself to Hilda and returned to her own booth. Talking to Mae about payment should be private. Mae greeted Kate with a soft drawly hey. Jamie, suddenly intent, began pawing through the Tarot cards. He slapped down the Tower, the Hierophant and Strength in a row and stared at them. “Fuck. I get it now.”
“We all do.” Kate took the three cards away from him and opened their box. “For all the good it does at this point.”
“Jeezus. Wasn’t criticizing you. Just saying, y’know, I get it. That’s all. You don’t have to rip—”
“I didn’t—”
Mae cut in. “Sugar, why don’t you go talk with Hilda?”
“In a minute.” He slid the remaining cards around. His long, liquid fingers hovered above the Hanged Man, tapped the Fool, and then Death. “What if that was my reading?”
“It isn’t,” Kate said. “You’re not supposed to see them while you pick them.”
“Good. Didn’t like those. Like the wine glasses better.” He pulled out the five of cups and the ace of pentacles. “And the star-circle doovalackies. They look nicer.”
“The cards aren’t inherently nice or bad. It’s how they’re placed. Did you want a reading?”
“Nah. Rather not know.” Jamie stacked the cards neatly and handed them to Kate. His please-like-me smile turned on like a floodlight. “You and Tim want to come for dinner tonight?”
Mae looked as surprised as Kate felt. A good excuse to decline. “Thanks, but it’s been a long day. Maybe some other time.”
Jamie nodded, subdued and withdrawn, and drifted to Hilda’s booth. Kate asked Mae, “Did that piss him off? I mean, I could tell you didn’t expect him to do that, and I imagine you’re as tired as I am.”
“So’s he. He just doesn’t know it yet. It’s okay.” Mae sat in the client’s chair. “Did you hear anything from Mary Kay or Ximena?”
“Yes. Thanks for asking. They’re healed. I’m trying to see if I can get booths added for them tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything sooner. This was over my head. I need to train more, I think. Practice more, too.”
Kate packed her cards into their box and began to wrap the crystal ball in a velvet cloth. “It was over everybody’s head except those shamans in Tuva. I didn’t understand my own reading. Even Fiona and Gaia got taken in. I’ll still pay you what I didn’t have to spend getting Andrea into that stupid drum group—maybe even the whole paycheck if Jill will do a refund.”
“She might. I expect that group is closing down.”
Kate placed the ball in its wooden container, tucked its stand in with it and closed the lid. She glanced over to Hilda’s booth. Tim was alone, packing one final print. She asked him, “Where did Hilda go? And where’s Jamie?”
Tim sealed the last angel in its box. “He took her to his father’s office. He’s going to try to teach her to send away spirits.”
Kate turned back to Mae. “Can he do that?”
“Sometimes.” The breeze shook the banner above the empty stage, making a whipping, snapping sound, rippling the logo of Spirit World Fair. “Not always, though. They got pretty strong minds of their own.”