Leslie ignored her, continuing to study the card, and Sandra pointed to the next one. “The Empress.”
It was a picture of a full-figured woman with blond hair and a peaceful aura. She was surrounded by a beautiful, lush forest with a stream running through it.
“Notice the patterned robe of pomegranates—symbolic of fertility. And she is seated upon flowing red velvet with the symbol of Venus emblazoned upon it.”
I threw Leslie a glance and looked Sandra in the face. “Sandra, let’s stop beating around the bush. You know Leslie is pregnant. I’m sorry that we haven’t been more forthcoming, but the man who impregnated her is bad. He’s, well, he’s Liam, the one who died trying to kidnap me. She wants to know what to do. Is there a chance this baby will be evil like Liam? Should she have an abortion?”
Sandra looked at Leslie pointedly. “No.”
“No,” I said, feeling like I’d just been punched. “But…”
She then gestured to the Tower card. “This baby was never meant to be.” She stared intently into Leslie’s eyes. “I’m not surprising you, am I, Leslie? I could feel from the moment you sat down that you suspected this baby was lost.”
Leslie sighed. “I had a feeling.” She chewed on her lip as if she wanted to keep the words from coming out. “I was cramping and spotting last night.”
“Uh-huh,” Sandra said knowingly.
“Really?” I asked, completely blindsided. I turned to Sandra. “Are you positive? People do spot.”
“Yes. She’s begun to miscarry. I can tell by the colour of her aura. You could take her to the hospital and they’ll give her something to help it along but she’ll be just fine on her own, too. There won’t be any complications here.” Sandra scooped up the cards, patting them back into a neat pile.
“Thank you.” Leslie rose and looked at me with an expression of utter relief.
I smiled back weakly.
“I’m just going to use the washroom again before we leave.”
She winced in pain.
“Are you cramping now?” I asked.
“Not much. I’m fine.”
“Your turn,” Sandra said, no sooner than Leslie had left the room.
“No, I don’t need a reading. I should probably go check on her.”
“She’s fine. It will all be over by tonight. Trust me.” Sandra tapped the cards three times and then held them out. “Now humor me and shuffle.”
I did as she asked and handed them back.
She laid them before me.
My eyes only had time to focus on the Ace of Cups before she flipped them all over.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s just as I suspected,” Sandra said gravely, making me nervous, though I wasn’t quite sure why I should be.
She tilted her ear again as if listening to something and then she took my palm and studied it in her own.
“What is it, Sandra?”
She traced a finger down a line in my hand. “Your lifeline splits off not once but two more times since I last saw you,”
I took a deep breath. Once made sense, given my recent trip into the 16th century, but why two more lines? “You’re right. I did go back again but are you sure there’s a fourth split? I’m getting older. It could just be a new wrinkle—things change.”
“We do get older and maybe it only signifies change but I see something that troubles…” She trailed off. When she opened her mouth to talk again, a family walked in and Cullen was right behind them.
“There ye are, Aeval,” Cullen said.
“We’ll talk later. I should see to the customers,” Sandra said, gathering and stuffing her tarot cards into her pocket. “Welcome to the Cupcake Shoppe. How can I help you today?”
My eyes fell upon Leslie, who had emerged from the bathroom looking perfectly put-together. She’d applied lipstick, her cheeks were rosy and she had a spring in her step. “I’m heading to Sam’s place. I spoke to him on the phone. We just missed him.”
I stared at her in complete surprise.
“Don’t you think you should rest for a bit? Cullen and I can give you a ride home.”
“No, I’m fine. Sam has turned around and he’s on his way back to get me right now.”
She pushed the front door open and headed back outside. I waved at Madam and followed her.
“Don’t look so serious, Sophia. I’m fine—better, actually, than I’ve been in months. Now, go shopping, please, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Startled, I looked at her, “But...okay. I’m happy for you and I’ll go if you’re sure you’re feeling better.”
“I am.”
I looked over at Cullen who appeared utterly amused and yet completely confused by our banter. “I’m sure you would love to go shopping with me, wouldn’t you, honey?”
“Are we talkin’ lingerie, Aeval?” Cullen waggled his eyebrows playfully.
Leslie laughed. “If you don’t find something to wear then you can borrow one of my dresses. I’ll text you later.”
Cullen took my hand and we headed off in the opposite direction. At the first lamppost, we turned the corner and I explained to Cullen what Madam had said about Leslie losing the baby. It was then that I noticed Sam speaking to a red-haired woman in a vintage yellow Volkswagen Beetle.
“Hey, what’s he doing over here?” I was about to call his name when he leaned into the car. “Did he just kiss that woman?”
I halted, my heart skipping a beat. My view had been obstructed so I couldn’t be sure. Leslie would be heartbroken if he had. The yellow car pulled away and he hurried to his own black sedan.
“I knew he was too good to be true.” I opened my mouth again to yell. I was ready to tear a strip off him when Cullen grasped my wrist.
“Now hold on there, my fiery little Aeval. She could be a friend or a sister.”
I let out a breath. Cullen was so level headed. Less than a minute later, Sam pulled away from the curb. I waved as he passed us. Let the bastard sweat it out, wondering if we’d seen him or not.
“You’re right, but I’m not going to ignore it. I’m calling Leslie.”
I pulled my phone out of my purse and started to scroll through my recent calls.
“Hang up. Ye can’t go blowin’ the whistle while she’s with him. I’ll ask him,” He said, in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Huh?” I ended the call and turned to him. “You want to ask him?”
Cullen’s eyes grew serious. “If he is a bit of a rascal then he’ll just lie to her. It’s better if I ask him man-to-man. Ye know I’m a human lie detector. I’ll be seein’ him tomorrow at the party. We’ll have a pint, and I’ll waggle the truth from him, one way or another.”
I cocked my head and gave it some thought.
“Come on, lass. Ye don’t wanna upset Leslie before yer hen party. She’ll just mope if it’s true or, worse case, ditch ye.”
I shrugged, thinking it over; maybe I was jumping the gun.
I stopped walking, and reached up on my tippy toes, wrapping my arms around Cullen’s neck. “I can’t wait to marry you, Cullen. Honestly, babe, I would be lost without you.”
FORTY-ONE
I watched as Leslie attempted to cup her hand over her ear, nearly spilling her drink in her hair. She was clearly struggling to hear what was being said over the chatter of the nightclub.
“Hang on a minute,” she shouted into the receiver, reaching around a group of girls and setting her French Sour cocktail on the dark wood of the long table. “It’s Sam. He says Cullen hasn’t shown up at the bar, and he’s not answering his phone. We’re heading outside,” she shouted again into the phone as she began to weave her way through the crowds of Lillie’s Bordello. “Can’t hear anything in here.”
We reached the door and exited into the night air, leaving the rest of the bachelorette party inside the vampy looking club. The distinctive smell of hamburgers and greasy fries hit me.
“Sorry about that, Sam,” Leslie said, walk
ing to the corner of Grafton Street and Suffolk. “My eardrums feel like they’re about to burst.”
Leslie was quiet for a moment and then much to my surprise handed the phone to me.
“Soph,” Sam said. “Do ye know where yer man got to? He didn’t turn up at Kitty O’Shea’s, and he’s not after answerin’ the mobile.”
A group of laughing girls crossed the street in front of me.
“Good Luck gettin’ hitched, hen!” one of the girls shouted. I remembered the plastic tiara with veil that I wore. Leslie had insisted that looking silly was a rite of passage for the bride-to-be.
“I called the house,” Sam continued, as I pulled off the head piece from my hair and chucked it in the trash. “Thought he might be runnin’ late, but he’s not answerin’. The bugger’s not gone out with ye hens instead, has he?”
“Last I saw of him was when I left the house, over six hours ago. You’re sure you didn’t miss him here on Grafton Street?”
“We stuck around there for over an hour.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, pacing up and down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of my tall ginger-haired man. “He said he was going to get in the shower when I left. He shouldn’t have been more than an hour behind me.”
“It’s a mystery then. Ye don’t suppose he got cold feet, decided to run off instead?”
“What?”
“Do ye know what I mean…like? I’m jokin’, Sophia.” He laughed, breaking the tension. “The man would be a fool to run off. Seriously though, do ye know where he might have gone?”
“Check Mulligan’s?” I said, watching as a bouncer attempted to cajole a drunken tourist from the doorway of a pub—a familiar Dublin sight. “That’s his brother’s old haunt. He could have run into Bert or one of his old cronies and lost track of time.”
“To be sure,” he replied. “He’s a ledge. Probably out havin’ the craic. Still, I was thinkin’ of headin’ back to yer place to make sure he’s not passed out.”
“Go back to the pub, Sam, in case he turns up there. I’ll track him down myself.”
I handed the phone back to Leslie and instantly punched Cullen’s number into my own cell. Come on, pick up.
“Bejeesus! There ye are,” one of Cullen’s younger cousins said, throwing a semi-drunken arm around me. “Ye comin’ back inside for the session? I found a hunky tourist for ye to snog. Ye know, one last kiss and all that.”
I couldn’t meet the girl’s smile. Instead I looked down at the phone that was still grasped tightly in my hand, hardly hearing what she was saying. Although I’d been deliberately upbeat with Sam, three unsuccessful calls to Cullen had me worried. I had assumed he would answer the phone for me, despite Sam’s failure to contact him. But now all I wanted to do was get home and find out what was going on.
“You okay?” Leslie asked as the other girls from the bridal party wandered back inside.
“I’m not sure,” I answered, playing with her phone. “Sam said Cullen didn’t turn up for the stag party. And now no one can get hold of him. I just tried to call him now. His cell must be turned off, and there’s no answer at home.”
“What did he do today?” Leslie said.
“He was going through some of the boxes in the attic this morning. I’m not sure why—I just assumed he was restless. Then he had a nap and he was getting in the shower when you picked me up.”
“Maybe he fell back asleep?” Leslie offered, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
“He’s fine,” she offered, touching my cheek lightly.
“You don’t think he’s had second thoughts, do you?” I said, giving a voice to my insecure thoughts. “You know, with everything that happened... His brother trying to murder us, and losing his Ma—maybe he decided that I’m to blame after all.”
“Don’t be silly. Cullen’s crazy about you, Soph. I’ve never met a couple more in love than you two. It’s disgusting.” She squeezed my arm affectionately. “Anyone can see that. He just fell back asleep or maybe he was pre-gaming too hard and lost track of time. Or perhaps he even wanted to finish cleaning out the attic and just got sidetracked.”
“I’m being silly, aren’t I?” I forced a smile. It wasn’t like me to get worked up, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened months ago – when Cullen’s brother had kidnapped me and ruined our rehearsal dinner, not to mention wedding. I’d almost lost Cullen.
“You’ve been through a lot,” Leslie said. “But that’s in the past. Liam’s dead and you’re getting married in six weeks whether you like it or not.”
“I know it’ll turn out to be nothing,” I said, trying to rationalize the situation.
“You want to go back to the house, check if everything’s all right?” Leslie asked.
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all. We’ll skip the drunken-brawl portion of the night.” Leslie waved at a cab approaching. “We can leave the ladies here. I’ll send them a text and maybe we’ll catch up with them once we’ve found that strapping ginger of yours, eh,” she wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a motherly hug.
“Yeah,” I said, trying my best to smile. “He’s probably just asleep.”
I tried his mobile another three times during the taxi ride. Each time the phone went straight through to voicemail. I’d also messaged Sam , who confirmed that Cullen still hadn’t appeared at the bar. As the taxi twisted and turned through the bustling streets and headed for the outskirts where we lived, a sickening feeling of worry swelled inside, refusing to go away. It sent my stomach into freefall. A little voice inside me whispered. Did you do something in the past that affected your future?
FORTY-TWO
“ See. The study light is on,” Leslie commented, as we climbed out of the taxi. “I’m sure he’s fast asleep inside, Soph,” she comforted me, as we walked the winding cobblestone path.
I looked up at the top window of the Tudor-style house where the light was on. For a second I thought I saw the curtain move. Maybe he’d just awoke.
I pulled my keys from my purse, but my hand shook as I tried to get the door open.
Leslie took over and opened the door. It wasn’t locked. “Hey, everything is okay.”
“I know,” I lied. “I’m just a bit on edge. I’ve been thinking through different scenarios and it’s shaken me up.”
“Come on,” Leslie said, “He’s probably flat out on the bed and slept through the calls. I’ll check the kitchen though just in case he’s back there.”
“You’re right.” I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could stop thinking about all of the horrible things that had happened this year. I was beginning to feel like the nightmare we’d lived through with Liam was somehow starting back up.
A tiny meow coaxed my attention back to the present and I smiled down at Daphne, my precocious little black-haired diva, as she rubbed my ankles and purred enthusiastically. I scooped her up and rubbed her ears, then broke off abruptly as sounds drew my attention up the stairs.
“Cullen?” I shouted. Perfectly still, I clutched Daphne and waited, holding my breath.
But there was only music.
It must be the radio, I decided.
I sighed, shook my head, and ordered my muscles to relax. I had nearly succeeded when a floorboard creaked upstairs. Tension reclaimed me instantly as Leslie returned to the room. I dropped Daphne on a stuffed chair and eyed the ceiling intently as the creaking sound repeated.
Perhaps it was just the house settling.
There was really no reason for this skittishness. It was most likely Cullen and I wanted Cullen to be here but why wasn’t he answering?
I breathed deeply and padded across the room to the stairs.
“How could he sleep through this music,” Leslie commented. “Do you keep your alarm clock that loud?”
“No,” I said, beginning to hurry. I took the steps two at a time, and with each step the music swirling from above seemed to get
louder. Something definitely didn’t feel right about this now.
“Cullen!” I shouted. “You home?”
I was really panicking now, feeling dizzy with nerves.
“Cullen!”
“Cullen, you in here?” Leslie shouted, following me.
I passed the study with just a glance and turned left at the end of the hall into the bedroom and cut through to the ensuite, where the music was coming from. My imaginings flooded back, but now it wasn’t about whether Cullen had got cold feet – they were of something more sinister, more tragic.
“Cullen,” I said, as I neared the bathroom where I could hear the shower running. “Where are…oh my God.”
“What is it?” Leslie asked.
“Something’s wrong,” I replied, as Leslie stood beside me in stunned silence. Blood rushed to my head, sending me reeling, and I placed a steadying hand against the doorframe.
The bathroom was smashed up – my perfume bottles and make-up littered the floor, the garbage bin had been overturned, and the water was still running in the shower.
“My God,” Leslie said, breathless at my side. She pushed her way past me. “What the hell’s happened?”
“Did we pass him? He must be in the bedroom,” I said, pulling myself out of my shock.
I turned and headed back into the bedroom. The bed was still ruffled, presumably from Cullen’s nap. Everything was in its right place. No sign of Cullen aside from a faint hint of his aftershave that hung in the air.
“Oh, shit!” Leslie mumbled from the bathroom. “Shit! We need to call the police!”
“What’s wrong?” I said as I rushed back to where she stood. She pointed at the blood smear on the floor. “Oh no,” I said, covering my mouth and shaking my head. I backed against the wall. “Where is he? This can’t be happening.”
“It’s not very much,” Leslie said, her face conflicted as she got down on her knees to further inspect. “Maybe he cut himself shaving or hit his head and drove himself to the hospital.”
My legs shook and I was no longer sure I could stand. I ran to the side window.
Just as I suspected, his truck was still in the driveway.
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 59