I’ve finally decided to give up on Zachary Van Buren. Being his friend and wanting him so bad it aches is too much. I’ll shrivel up and die if I continue this way.
Ramona had pressed her diary against her heart after yesterday’s entry and told herself he wasn’t worth the agony of seven years of waiting. She’d neglected herself, her friends, her life, all for a love for which she’d obviously been waiting in vain.
She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was obsessed. Her shame came in admitting that her deep, pure feelings were not returned. Oh, she’d never actually expected Zachary to obsess over her. She just thought that someday he would see the light.
Maybe it was cruel, but Ramona thought his grandfather’s death might be the key to her happiness. It had knocked Zachary’s feet right out from under him and plunged him into a deep depression over the last eight months. And provided an opportunity for her to be there, to comfort him. But he’d withdrawn instead of reaching out to her. All his time went to either work or being with his grandmother, who was taking the sudden death even harder. Last night Ramona urged him to let go, to cry in her arms, and he’d pushed her away.
She’d cried herself to sleep. Again. The next morning, yesterday, she decided to give up Zachary forever. She knew what that meant. Selling him her half of the shop. Maybe even moving to another city. Cold turkey.
Yesterday she had visited that dark, dank hole of anguish and heartache, a place she knew all too well. She even bought a newspaper to look for apartments in Concord. All day she’d been strong, pushing away the pain at the thought of never seeing Zachary again.
She turned her diary to the next page: Giving up on Zachary lasted one day. Technically nine hours since it’s ten the next morning. I woke with that knife-stabbing pain piercing my heart, and I thought I was going to die. Then I realized I was going to die without Zachary in my life. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without him in my head. I need to drive.
She had. Past Zachary’s cottage, past his shop, then on and on. Her father had taught her that if she tried hard enough, she would win. To attain something worthwhile, she would have to fight tough, use every trick she could find. And he had, after all, given her half of his beloved business. But he’d never given her his heart. What would he think if he knew her failure at achieving the thing most important to her? Maybe he did know.
Ramona grabbed her diary and added to her entry: I have no idea where I am. If someone finds this car without me in it, please contact Zachary at…
She wrote down his number and tossed the journal back on the seat. “Then he’ll regret not loving me. He’ll worry.” Disappearing wasn’t a bad idea actually. If her absence reeked of foul play, that might get his attention, make him see how much she meant to him. She imagined him driving around searching for her, tacking up MISSING posters.
As it was, she needed to figure out her location. She’d left her cell phone at home so no one could track her. She looked for identifying signs on the hodgepodge of quaint buildings. One caught her eye: ZEN - Crystals, Books, Psychic Readings.
Ramona gazed at the purple sign, intrigued by the idea of knowing the future, then at the window covered in dream catchers and posters for drumming circles and meditations. A car beeped at her, making her realize she’d drifted to a stop in the road. She pulled into the parking lot and hesitantly entered the store filled with displays of crystals, jewelry, and books. Incense filled the air with a heady scent. A thin woman with shoulder-length brown hair popped up from behind a counter in the back. “Hey, can I help you?”
“I’d like a reading.”
“Payment up front.”
“That’s fine.”
The woman who was probably a little older than Ramona extended her hand. “I’m Rose. Come on back.”
Ramona took in her gray T-shirt bearing a peace sign and faded jeans. “Shouldn’t you be wearing scarves and hoop earrings? And be older?”
Rose laughed. “That’s only in movies.” She called out, “I’m doing a reading, Drew! Cover the front please.” She waved for Ramona to follow her into a small windowless room and closed the door behind them. The walls were painted maroon, the only light three candles flickering on a table. “Please have a seat.”
Ramona sank down in the chair she’d indicated, seeing now that the candles formed a triangle around a shiny black plate.
Rose sat down opposite her. “As I said, payment is up front.”
“Can’t you see that I’m not the type of person to run out without paying?”
“It’s our policy.” Rose didn’t get the psychic joke apparently.
Ramona dug in her purse and handed over the money.
Rose tucked the bills away. “I use scrying, which means I see visions in this obsidian mirror. Don’t tell me anything, okay? Let me get into the zone.” She inhaled deeply and stared into the mirror. A minute or more passed before she said, “You have some issue with your father. I see an iceberg.”
Ramona perked up. “Yes! He—”
Rose lifted her finger, but her gaze remained on the mirror. “There’s another man who’s been causing you a lot of pain. Younger. Handsome.”
Ramona wanted to shout out her answer, but she calmly said, “Zachary.” She leaned forward, trying to see what Rose did, but only saw the reflection of candlelight. “Can you see what he’s doing right now?”
“No, it doesn’t work that way. I get visions about a person or situation. It’s not like a secret camera.” Rose took several measured breaths. “You’ve loved him for a long time.”
“Feels like forever. All I want to know is do I get him?”
“I see him with a woman…” She frowned, studying the plate. “Wow, they have a deep connection. Soulmates. That doesn’t always mean romantic mates. A soulmate is someone who’s here to connect with us in a profound way to help us grow. But I see, I feel, love. Romance. There’s something significant about this weekend. Like it comes together then.”
Ramona had to stop herself from peering into the mirror again. “Is it me?”
After watching whatever it was that Rose saw, her mouth tightened ever so slightly. “I assume you came here for the truth.”
“Yes, tell me.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not you.”
Ramona’s heart fell. Not me, not me, not me. “Does he know her already?”
“I believe he does, but not very well.” Rose stared at the mirror for a few seconds. “I see two connections, as though their lives have crossed twice but only briefly. Hm, that’s odd. There’s a solid line that’s broken, like they were supposed to meet but something happened. Then two blurry lines. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
Two lines, two times when that Angel woman was around. Panic tightened Ramona’s throat, her worst fear realized. “Where do they meet?”
Rose sat back in her chair. “I can’t tell. Maybe somewhere in nature. I see trees.”
“Enough about them. This is about me and him.”
“You’re soulmates as well, but in a different way. He’s in your life to give you the opportunity to help you heal your father issues. To be another man whose love you cannot attain. Here’s the good news: learn your soul lesson, let him go, and move on.”
“I can’t let him go. He’s—”
“Not for you.” She tilted her head, a sympathetic smile on her face. “We suffer the most when we want something that doesn’t belong to us.”
“But he does. I’ll just make sure he’s with me the entire weekend.”
Rose shook her head, her expression one of a mother trying to instruct a stubborn little girl. “Do you remember those margarine commercials from when you were a kid? It’s not nice to fool mother nature. It’s even worse when you fool with destiny. You mustn’t change this man’s life for your own selfish desires.”
What good was knowing the future if she shouldn’t do anything about it? This psychic obviously couldn’t see how much she loved Zachary or how much he loved her. Then again, he couldn’t even see that.
Ramona stood. “Your visions are stupid. You’re probably a fake!”
Her head pounded as she ran to her car. Her tires ripped into the asphalt when she slammed the car in reverse. As she turned onto the road, the rear of her car jerked into the oncoming lane, causing another car to swerve out of her way. It didn’t seem real, not the oncoming car, not the prediction of the future. Especially not the prediction.
Her fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles turned white. “What does she know, anyway? Most of those psychics are big fat phonies.”
Except…if Rose hadn’t made her pay up front, Ramona would have run out on her bill. Had Rose predicted that?
Shit. She was the real deal. Zachary would meet Angel this weekend, and she’d stay. Stay in his life, his home. His bed.
“Noooo! I won’t let that happen.” Ramona would make sure Zachary was far away from wherever he had planned to be that weekend. “Who says it’s not good to change destiny? Who’s the supreme authority on all this destiny stuff anyway? Certainly not Rose. I’ll make my own destiny. And if I change Zachary’s, then so be it. He’ll never know.”
She found Interstate 95 and was surprised to learn that she’d driven all the way into Massachusetts. After grabbing a bite at a fast-food place, she headed back to New Hampshire. It was late afternoon as she headed to Zachary’s house, a cute cottage she could totally see herself living in. Then she remembered she wore the clothes she’d thrown on in the middle of the night. She stopped at a boutique, and as she tried on a bitchin’ red dress, the idea hit her.
“Where’s the closest travel agent?” she asked the clerk.
An hour later, she looked in the rear-view mirror and replaced her nervous expression with a warm, excited smile. “You didn’t ace drama class for nothing.”
Just before her finger touched his doorbell, the front door swung open and she stood inches from him. His citrusy cologne enveloped her, and it was her every inclination to fall right into his arms. But she knew what actions like that did, and drive him away was the last thing she wanted. Fly him away was more like it.
“Oh, hey, Ramona.” He gave her the lukewarm smile he wore when she popped in unannounced, which maybe she did a little too often. “What’s up?”
“Please tell me you’re not going anywhere, please, please.”
Her heart started doing the jitterbug. He wore a blue-and-white striped shirt and stonewashed blue jeans. And he looked less depressed. More alive. When he locked the front door, her heart crept nearer to the chasm of despair.
“Afraid so. You look all dressed up. Going somewhere special?”
She inched up to him, but not too close, and summoned her most convincing puppy-eyed look. “With you, I hope?”
“Sorry, I’ve got plans. Maybe we can have lunch tomorrow.”
He always kept their get-togethers safe. Lunches were safer than dinners. Worse yet, he had plans. Was he going out with Angel? Panic set in. She had to stop him.
“Atlantic City sound good?”
“For lunch? Are we talking about the New Jersey Atlantic City?”
She held up plane tickets. “You see, lunch comes with dinner tonight, breakfast, blackjack, anything you want. The whole weekend. You’ve been so down lately, and I know how much you like playing the tables. I’m staging an intervention. Bringing you back to life. And me, too. Seeing you like this has been breaking my heart, too.” Nice move, bringing in your own pain. Zack with his big heart will feel responsible.
“I don’t know. I already have plans with Chuck and Keith at Dirty Mike’s.”
“So you can mope at the table with a beer while they watch some game on television?” When he gave her a perplexed look, she quickly added, “I’m guessing.” Not that she’d, um, been watching him. “This will be good for both of us. I reserved two rooms at the casino and an eight o’clock dinner reservation at a nice restaurant. What do you say?”
She wondered what he was thinking as he considered. That she’d gotten too close the other night? That she was too desperate? He released a long breath. “Okay. You’ve been a good friend through all this. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done. Come in while I throw some things in a bag.”
You don’t know how much I’ve done for you, she thought, following him inside his simple, clean little cottage. How much I’ve sacrificed and hurt. And how I’m saving you now from that evil woman. Because you deserve me.