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Miss Nancy’s place was a bungalow on a quiet street near the farmer’s market and botanica. It didn’t look all that unusual from the outside. It was a little more colorful than its neighbors, and had more wind chimes around the porch, but there were no neon hands or tarot reader signs in the window. You had to know about Miss Nancy, and know how to find her.
I knew about her because she’d been my babysitter when I was a kid. I don’t know how my parents knew her. For some reason I had never asked and had always just accepted Miss Nancy as a solid, if unusual, presence in my life.
I knocked on the door and turned to look around while I waited for her to come to the door. There had been a little gentrification up here, but nothing like the raping and pillaging that had been going on farther south where Clarence Wilson had been operating. The door opened, and Miss Nancy pushed open the screen door, motioning for me to come inside.
Miss Nancy always dressed like she was on her way to a Renaissance Festival. Her outfit today was bright purple, a long, drapey thing with swirling patterns and a matching turban. A couple of long dreadlocks hung down on one side, and she was wearing a purple lipstick the same shade as her outfit.
“Jake, honey! Come give me a big ol’ hug!”
“Hi, Miss Nancy,” I greeted her, giving her the bear hug I knew she’d expect. It always surprised me when I had to lean down to hug her. She had such a big personality, it seemed like she should be taller.
“Honey, you look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“I feel better already, with one of your hugs, Miss Nancy. I like the lipstick, by the way.”
“Shush. Come on through to the kitchen and we’ll have some tea.”
I sat at her kitchen table while she made the tea. I didn’t ask what was in it – some blend of things she bought at the botanica, I assumed. Miss Nancy didn’t do the cards and palms routine with me, although she did with others. But she told me once she only did it with them because they expected it and it relaxed them and let her see what she needed to see. Maybe because I’d known her most of my life, when I met with her we just chatted over a cup of tea in her kitchen.
She sat down at the table, the pot and cups between us, and studied my face. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”
“Not well.”
“Busy week.”
“Weird week.”
“Hmm.” She poured us some tea and I started telling her what had been going on. All of it – the dreams, the kitten, everything I had told Don already, all about finding the body. I even told her about dreamy Detective Petreski. She nodded, and listened, and sipped her tea.
“Drink your tea, honey,” was all she said when I finished. “You still got that squirrel visiting you?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I think it’s significant. I think that squirrel has something to reveal to you.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I wasn’t going to argue with Miss Nancy.
“What about the dreams? And what happened after? You don’t...” and now I was about to ask the thing I hadn’t had the courage to bring up with Don. “You don’t think I’m causing these things, do you?”
“Oh, honey, no! You’re one of the kindest, gentlest souls I’ve even known. You’d never wish harm, real harm, on anybody, not even in your worst dreams.”
I sighed and poured myself some more tea. “Then why is this happening now? To me? Have you ever heard of anything like this before?”
She sat back, folding her hands together in her lap and looking up towards the ceiling. I recognized her thinking pose and kept my mouth shut.
“Not exactly, no,” she said after a minute, lowering her gaze back to meet mine. “Sometimes, when someone has the gift, it can manifest itself in strange and unsettling ways, but usually when someone’s younger than you. Usually it happens during puberty.”
“Well, I do seem to be stuck – I know Mom and Dad think I’m immature and don’t want to grow up.”
“This is not a joking matter, and you are not immature. Give me your hand.”
She flipped my hand over and studied my palm for the first time in years – the last time I had been thirteen and freaking out over liking boys like I thought I should be liking girls.
“Maturity is not your problem, honey. You’ve just got too much going on in your head right now and it’s keeping you from making a decision. Oh, and you’re about to have a new presence in your life.”
“A romantic presence?” I asked, thinking about Detective Petreski.
“Maybe. It’s... complex. I have to think about this – this I know I haven’t seen before.”
I sighed. I knew there wouldn’t be a simple answer.
“What about the dreams? I can’t get a decent night’s sleep. The nap I had yesterday was the first decent sleep I’ve had in days.”
“After you found the kitten?”
I nodded.
“I think that’s because you dreamed about it and resolved it. You saved that baby, and whatever... force... made you dream about it was quieted long enough for you to sleep. You were sleeping the sleep of the just, I’d say.”
“But then... what about Wilton? That’s a hell of a lot bigger than a tortured kitten. A man is dead. Will finding the body be enough? Is there more I have to do?”
“I don’t know, honey. Like I said, I never saw anything like this before.”
“I’m just so exhausted. I’d give anything for a good night’s sleep.”
She sat her tea cup down and stood slowly. “Jake, honey.”
“Yes, Miss Nancy?” I looked up into her serious face.
“I’ve got something I think might help, but you have to promise me you’ll never, ever, tell your mama I gave you this. You understand?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She turned to open the freezer and took out a small baggie. I’d never tried marijuana before, but I knew that’s what this was. “Oh, Miss Nancy, I’m not sure...”
“Honey, it won’t hurt you none. If the dreams come back, just try a couple of puffs to mellow you out a little.”
I tried to argue, but there’s no arguing with Miss Nancy. It felt weird, letting my former babysitter give me pot, but I was desperate and took the two small joints.
“Now,” Miss Nancy clapped her hands together, business as usual as if she hadn’t just supplied me with a controlled substance, “are you going to drive me over to the market?” I always did when I came to visit. She wouldn’t let me pay her, so I would drive her to the produce market, bakery, and botanica and help her carry her groceries.
Maybe this time I’d finally let her talk me into one of those candles she was always trying to get me to buy – Lucky in Love sounded appealing. You know, just in case.
