Rings On Her Fingers (Psychic Seasons Page 2

  Tossing and turning her way through a restless night, she woke up with the same unresolved feelings she'd had at bedtime. When the phone rang during breakfast, Julie, thinking it might be Gustavia, ignored the caller ID and did not bother to answer. Then, when it rang again fifteen minutes later—and then every fifteen minutes for the next two hours—she was sure she'd been right. Finally the ringing stopped. Julie sighed with relief and helped herself to another cup of tea. She'd barely managed to drink half of it when she spotted an all too familiar car pulling up the drive.

  Gustavia rang the doorbell once, twice, and then pounded on the door.

  "C'mon, open up! I know you're in there, and I'm not leaving," she called, her voice muffled by the heavy wooden door. "I have a key and you know I'll use it."

  Reluctantly, but knowing it would be fruitless to ignore Gustavia--persistence was one of her more obvious qualities--Julie let her in.

  Gustavia flew through the door, long skirts swirling around her ankles, and hugged Julie hard.

  "What's with the full media blackout?"

  Julie started to answer, "I ... yesterday ... I ..."

  "Wasn't she great? I told you she was the real thing. Where do you think the magic garden is? I couldn't sleep all night wondering if you'd figured it out," Gustavia said, following her into the kitchen. She reminded Julie of a puppy begging to be played with, even down to the way she moved. If she'd been born with a tail, it would have been of the thin, wiry variety that constantly wagged in circles.

  Stepping back, Gustavia looked at her friend and quickly perceived something was wrong. It didn't take a lot of intuition to see it; Julie was annoyed, but along with the annoyance was a healthy dose of fear. That was understandable; it wasn't every day a person had a conversation with a pair of dead relatives. That kind of thing was bound to stir up a few strong emotions, especially in those who didn't readily believe in the supernatural. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Gustavia did a butt-shaking dance around the room chanting, "There's magic in the garden," while Julie stared at her with a raised eyebrow, poured out her now-cold tea and busied herself brewing a new pot.

  Sighing and trying to stay annoyed, Julie replied, "There is no magic garden. After I had some time to think about it, I remembered hearing stories of how my grandfather dug up most of the property while he was alive; and, clearly, he never found a thing."

  "Well there has to be one, your great grandfather said there was," Gustavia stopped dancing.

  "Oh, Gustavia, you don't actually believe that was my great-grandfather, do you?" Julie rolled her eyes, scorn evident in the tone of her voice. Gustavia grabbed a mug from the cupboard, then the two women seated themselves at one end of the old trestle table while Julie poured them both a cup of tea. Looking at her friend over the rim of a favorite, daisy-covered mug, Julie realized Gustavia did, indeed, believe that very thing.

  "Don't you?" Gustavia replied, then she looked at Julie. "No, I can see you don't." Then, taking another long look, her eyes widened, then her gaze turned speculative. She tilted her head first left, then right, and squinted. "Your aura is rumpled. I've never seen it do that before. I wonder what it means."

  "It probably means I should have hung it up to dry instead of leaving it in a heap on the bathroom floor," was the sarcastic reply.

  "Very funny, but this is serious," Gustavia jumped up and grabbed Julie's arm, "Come on, we have to go see Ammie."

  "Who?"

  "Ammie--Amethyst. She does the most amazing work with damaged auras." Gustavia had already pulled Julie halfway to the front door. When Gustavia set her mind on something, stopping her was like trying to stop a steamroller: a steamroller painted purple and hung all over with crystals. She shook the thought away; and, before she knew it, she was in the car and on the way to whatever new age habitat someone named Amethyst might frequent.

  Riding in Gustavia's car was an experience in itself. When she'd bought the 1977 Maverick from the proverbial little old lady, it only had 18,000 miles on it. The car had been immaculate: rust colored, but rust-free. Bought at the beginning of her new age transformation, Gustavia claimed her car had a calming aura and just reeked of beneficial energy.

  She had sewn herself a set of seat covers out of a nubby chenille bedspread dyed in rainbow colors. Next, she'd removed the original headliner, reupholstered it with fabric in a moon and stars pattern, then pinned a grid of wire-wrapped crystals over the whole thing. Parts of the doors and dashboard had been covered in tan vinyl leaving a fair bit of exposed body-colored metal which Gustavia had hand-painted with designs of all types from Celtic to Japanese calligraphy.

  But the topper was the figurine she'd mounted on the dashboard. In a local junk shop, Gustavia had found one of the old hula dancing dolls, the kind with a grass skirt that swayed with the motion of the car. She had redressed it in a gypsy outfit and then fitted it out with a pair of angel wings.

  New age music competed with the tinkling of the tiny bells hung on strings from the mirror as Gustavia drove with her usual abandon.

  "How many speeding tickets have you had?" Julie asked dryly.

  "I never drive faster than my angels can fly," was the smug reply; and, while not exactly feeling safe, Julie envied her friend that complete trust in the universe. Losing the last of her small family had left Julie bereft and lonely. Thankfully, though she'd also been grieving the loss, Gustavia had realized how much she had been needed, and for the first few weeks after Gram's death, had stayed at the house and helped make all of the arrangements. Julie knew she could count on her friend; they shared a sisterly bond. If that bond required temporarily putting the irritation aside and going along to see someone who claimed to be an aura reader, then so be it.

  "Is Amethyst a new friend of yours?" Julie tried to get some idea what might happen next.

  "You know her; I think the two of you met at my lunar eclipse party. She changes her name every year; she's working her way through the chakra colors. Last year her name was Jade."

  "Is she the one who wore the elf ears?"

  "No, that was Mishka; and those were her real ears. Well--at least after the surgery," Gustavia replied. Julie raised one eyebrow; but, deciding not to probe further looked out the window.

  "Oh, what are we stopping here for?" Julie asked as Gustavia pulled into a small field bordered by forest. The center of the field swelled into a low hill then fell away toward a lovely view of the lake.

  "This is where Amethyst lives."

  "Where, in a tree?" Julie shifted in her seat, looking around to see if she was missing something, sarcasm evident in her tone.

  "No, silly. Follow me." Gustavia indicated a well-worn path in the grass that led around the gently rising mound of earth. On the other side, set into the hill, were large windows and a beautifully decorated door. Amethyst lived underground. Oh, maybe she's a hobbit, Julie thought but didn't bother to voice the sentiment. Instead, she heaved a mental sigh and wondered what fresh hell she was about to walk into.

  Gustavia knocked on the intricately carved door and waited only a few seconds before throwing it open and calling out, "Hey, Ammie, are you here? It's Gustavia and Julie."

  As she walked around the corner, Julie recognized Amethyst immediately. Her hair and eyebrows were dyed a delicate shade of lavender, as were her clothes. Flowing chiffon seemed draped on her slight frame as if it were a purple cloud that had just drifted down and decided to clothe her. She also remembered at their last meeting, Amethyst, whose name had been Jade at the time, sported a lovely sage green as her signature color.

  Amethyst wafted over and kissed Gustavia on both cheeks.

  "So good to see you." She said, her voice surprisingly deep and substantial for such a wraith of a woman.

  "Do you remember my friend Julie?" Gustavia asked.

  "Why, of course." And Amethyst moved forward then tilted her head in much the same way Gustavia had earlier and circled Julie slowly. "Oh, my, your aura is rumpled."

  "So I've b
een told." Julie replied dryly wondering if rumpled was a technical term. "What's the diagnosis?"

  Stroking her chin, head still tilted, Amethyst circled Julie. Then she began plucking the air around the woman's body as though removing unwanted particles and flicking them away. Julie stood helplessly, caught somewhere between laughter and tears over the absurdity of this; but, as the plucking continued, she actually began to feel emotionally lighter.

  This went on for several minutes until finally, Amethyst stopped.

  "Have you had contact with the spirit world recently?" She asked.

  Julie was reluctant to answer. It occurred to her how this could just be another phase of the prank.

  Gustavia answered for Julie, “Yes, she has. She saw Kat yesterday, and her grandmother and great-grandfather came through. I think it scared her. In fact, I think it scared Kat, too.”

  "No. I don't think so." Julie said loudly, finally reaching the end of her rope, "I don't believe in all that mumbo jumbo. It is just a huge, cruel joke; and I think you're all in on it."

  "Oh, Jules!" Gustavia cried, her eyes bright with tears, going to her friend, she hugged her. "I would never do that to you. How could you ever think I would? This is all just going too fast for you, I understand."

  "No, I don't think you do. I feel all churned up; half of me wants to believe what happened, and the other half is scared to death that it did."

  "Nevertheless," Amethyst chimed in gently, "we should repair the damage to your aura. Let's have a cup of tea while I come up with a plan." This did nothing to settle Julie's nerves, and she was thinking she'd already had enough tea for one day. She just wanted this day—no this entire week—to be over with, and quickly.

  As Amethyst led the way deeper into her underground home, Julie got a chance to take a good look around at the cozy residence that had been carved out of the hill. The walls were stucco painstakingly hand-textured and painted to resemble sandstone. Deep shadows curved into horizontal bands shading from mahogany to palest orange. Small up-lights placed at intervals along the walls highlighted the undulating patterns. It truly was breathtaking. Leading out the back of the large front room was a short hallway. An open door on the left led to a spacious bedroom. The door on the right revealed a small bathroom, and just past that, a large archway framed the kitchen. Though not as dramatically lit as the living room, the room was cozy with highly polished cabinets lining the walls above a granite counter top. Tube-shaped skylights, that had not been visible from the other side of the hill, let bright sunlight into the room.

  Amethyst busied in the kitchen, while Julie and Gustavia sat down at the table. In just a few short minutes, the tea was ready; and by the time they were finished drinking it, Julie felt steadier, more balanced.

  After a lengthy discussion containing strange phrases—one Julie gave up trying to follow—over what to do for the rumpled aura, the two new-agers decided a guided meditation was the best option. Once the decision was made, they moved quickly to install Julie comfortably on a pile of pillows in the front room, put in a CD of soothing music, settled in beside her.

  In a calming voice, Amethyst directed Julie to relax and concentrate on her breathing. Then she asked Julie to picture herself walking through a sunlit meadow with fragrant grasses and flowers slowly fluttering in a warm breeze.

  Not bothering to try and imagine any such thing, the meditating, instead, gave Julie time to think objectively. Gustavia had been unfailingly helpful during the first few weeks following Gram's death: she'd made it a priority to take care of her friend and share the grieving process. From the first time Julie had brought her college roommate home, Grams had seen Gustavia's need for acceptance and family. Without a moment's hesitation, she'd opened her arms in welcome and won herself an honorary granddaughter. She was just that kind of person, and Gustavia had blossomed as a result of the love and attention.

  All three women shared a deep love of art. Gustavia made a nice living writing children's books, but she also had a passion for painting and creating mixed media art. She and Grams spent hours debating the nuances of technique and style. Whenever they got into their ongoing discussion about the definition of art vs. craft, you might as well leave the room. They could be at it for hours.

  It just was not in Gustavia's nature to be deliberately hurtful. She might be eccentric; she might be outspoken, but she always meant well. Therefore, this was no prank. That thought was a sobering one. If this wasn't a joke, then Grams and great-grandfather had actually spoken to her. Through a psychic medium, no less. Following that line of reasoning, the magic garden might also be real. Goosebumps prickled up Julie's arms at the notion.

  At just that second, both Gustavia and Amethyst cried out.

  "Her aura, it just healed itself."

  "Did you see that?"

  "What did it?" Gustavia asked.

  "I gave in to the inevitable," Julie grumbled. "If you weren't playing a prank on me, it must have been Grams speaking through the psychic."

  Gustavia beamed. Amethyst beamed. Julie sighed. She was in for it now.

  For the second day in a row, the two friends rode silently back to Hayward House, both lost in thought, both thinking of the magic garden and how to find it. Gustavia's plan of attack involved more psychic readings and dowsing, while Julie planned a conversation with the man who had written her family history. Failing that, a visit to the public library might turn up something new.

  Again, she thought there was something familiar about the phrase magic garden, but Julie could not remember where she had seen it before; it was maddening.

  Gustavia dropped Julie off and sat for a moment contemplating her next step. After deciding to begin with a return visit to Kat, she made a quick call on her cell phone, then rocketed down the drive in her usual fashion.

  Chapter 3

  After a warm greeting, Kat invited Gustavia to sit.

  "So, yesterday was quite something; that was the first time I have ever heard you channel an actual spirit," Gustavia said.

  "Between you and me, it was the first time it ever happened like that. They just took over, and not being in control of my own body was scary. But, that's not all; something else happened; I couldn't believe it. Nothing like that ever happened before. That's not how it usually works." Kat rambled in a rush of nervousness.

  Ever the soul of compassion, Gustavia reached out and squeezed her friend's hand. "Well, you handled it like a pro. Is it prying if I ask how it usually works?"

  Kat hesitated.

  "It's okay, really; you don't have to tell me. I know it's none of my business."

  "It's not that. I'm afraid it will ruin the mystique. And I don't usually talk to my friends about this side of things. Most people don't believe."

  "That sounds lonely," Gustavia said. "Tell me. You'll feel better and I never judge; I promise."

  "I wasn't always blind. It began shortly after I started seeing spirits or came into my powers or whatever you want to call it. I was scared and didn't want to see them anymore, and so I gradually lost my sight. My doctors think it's a form of hysterical blindness."

  Gustavia gave Kat's hand another squeeze as she continued to speak.

  "When I channeled Julie's family, I could see again," tears began to slide slowly down her face.

  "Oh, Kat, that's wonderful and awful all at the same time."

  "Yes. It means the doctors are right: I really am causing my own affliction, and I don't know what to do about it. What does that say about me?"

  "It says you're scared and doctors don't always understand fear. Did they suggest therapy?"

  "Yes; but after the first visit, I stopped going. The therapist didn't accept my abilities, which was pretty ridiculous considering his dead mother was in the room talking to me during the entire session."

  Gustavia chuckled. "So can you see the spirits or do you just hear them?"

  "Oh, I see them; they appear as dream figures, sort of like a memory. They are usually just misty shapes
in the darkness. That is what freaked me out the other day; it was the first time in years I have seen anything besides blobs and darkness--and so clearly, too."

  "So, now you are conflicted: you probably want to do it again, even if it's scary; and you're probably worried about what it means that it happened at all."

  "Yes." Relief caused by unburdening herself to someone who understood finally allowed Kat's body to relax; she rotated shoulders sore from being held so stiffly. "That is exactly the problem; and you were totally right, I do feel better talking about it."

  Gustavia went around the table and pulled Kat into a hug.

  "Okay, enough of that. Let me do a reading for you," Kat said. It was obvious she was feeling much more comfortable now with the heavy emotional burden shared.

  "Without Julie here, I can't give you the full picture; but we can still get some idea of what might happen, or at least the part you will play in what is to come," she explained while handing a Tarot deck based on mythological stories to Gustavia to shuffle.

  The first card drawn off the deck was The Fool; indicating there would be a new journey. This was not news to either of the women, so they quickly moved on to the second card in the layout which was laid crosswise over the first: the Crossing card, the five of cups.

  "This card warns of a betrayal, usually in a romantic relationship. It comes from the story of Psyche and Eros: when Eros keeps his face hidden and asks Psyche to respect this decision, she agrees; but then, after he goes to sleep, she takes a peek. He sees this as a betrayal and leaves her." Kat turned her face with its unseeing eyes toward Gustavia, "In this way both partners betray the other: one by hiding something and the other by a lack of trust. Does this make any sense to you?"

  Not wanting to speak ill of him, but unable to help herself, Gustavia hesitated briefly before answering, "Since day one, I've thought something about Julie's fiancé, Logan, was—well—not on the up. It always feels like he has a hidden agenda, if that makes any sense; but on the surface, he seems devoted and caring.