The Palm Reader

by Christopher Bowron

  She stared out the window as the coach traversed Highway 41 into the Everglades. The vastness and stark beauty of the area amazed her. Most Floridians lived on the doorstep of the great swamp, never leaving the confines of their coastal homes to see the real countryside, the real Florida. One of her prized possessions was a book of black-and-white photographs of Florida’s wilderness taken by Clyde Butcher. She didn’t have time to visit the man and his daughter, Jackie, who’d always been so kind. Alas, her trip today would be purely business. She’d put off meeting Nathaniel Portman for some time now. He’d come to her in dreams and readings over the years and she’d connected with his grandson—no coincidence. Something needed to be figured out. To ignore things much longer would be negligent. Plus, Lolita always loved her day trips.

  Everglade City used to be the capital of Collier County and remained a strange conglomeration of semi-stately buildings mixed with everything from upscale homes to shacks. It sat southeast of Naples and Marco Island, a testament to old Florida. Lolita called it the airboat capital of the world.

  She walked to Nathaniel’s office, becoming quite hot and sweaty by the time she arrived, her chubby legs chaffing. Going up the stairs to the second level, she pulled open the door. A little bell attached to it by a rusty nail jingled.

  A young Seminole female sat behind a desk with a nameplate: Reception, Beth. She smiled up at the newcomer and waited patiently while Lolita caught her breath. Lolita toddled into the reception area and paused to wipe the perspiration from her dripping brow. Taking out her freshly-ironed and sweet-smelling handkerchief, Lolita dabbed away.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  “You most certainly can. I’d like to speak with Mr. Portman. Let him know Lolita is here. I’m sure he will be expecting me.”

  Before Beth could get up from her chair, an older Seminole man with short-cropped hair, dressed in a fashionable summer suit, came through an impressive wooden door.

  Lolita was taken aback by his eyes—black as coal but with a light that could shine to the back of her skull . . . if she allowed it. The distinctive man possessed a guarded yet confident bearing and he was someone Lolita would never forget.

  “We have met before,” he stated more than asked.

  “Not in this world.”

  He nodded. “Please come into my office. We have plenty to discuss.”

  Nathaniel gestured for Lolita to sit in front of his ornate wooden desk. While she sat in one of the chairs, her eyes were drawn to the wide expanse of the window taking up one entire wall.

  “Nice view!”

  It was hard to deny. The office window looked out at one of the local rivers, edged with thick mangrove bushes. He nodded, accepting the validity of her comment. “I’m glad you came. I’ve felt your presence for a long time.”

  “As I have yours. Your family calls you Gramps. I’m sorry, but you don’t look like a Nathan.”

  Gramps laughed. “That’s okay. I don’t think I look like a Nathan either. Feel free to call me what my family calls me, if this is what you were edging toward.”

  “Okay, Gramps. We share a common denominator.”

  “My grandson.”

  “Of course. He’s strong with the spirits. I’ve seen it in him, and I’ve seen him in my dreams. He doesn’t embrace it?”

  Gramps nodded slowly. “Jackson is a different kind of animal. He’s still young. When I was young I spurned the ability.”

  “He’s nearly thirty.”

  “This is true.”

  “I called him last night to warn him.”

  “He ignored you. I could have told you that he would. He ignores me.”

  “Basically. Dismissed me and hung up.”

  “Why are you trying to help him? I know you have a connection, but I don’t know why you would come all the way to Everglades City to tell me this. Let’s cut to the chase, Lolita. I want to know . . . what is your motive?”

  She smiled, showing a full set of perfectly white teeth. “Gramps, I’m an old-fashioned palm reader. That’s what I’m best at. I dabble in the tarot.” She paused for a moment. “From time to time I have visions. A few weeks back, I saw my own death, and I saw Jackson’s death. They are connected. Now, I’m not sure if one will occur if the other happens. This is the reason that I came to see you. I felt that if I could explain to you my vision, maybe you could talk some sense into him.”

  Gramps stared at her, trying to get a read on the woman. He could not see the motivation behind telling him lies. He had also seen the woman in his dreams. They’d made contact. He did wonder if she had any Native blood. It would be difficult to tell. The Seminoles didn’t mix readily with other cultures, especially the African Americans. He turned away from the window they were both staring at and looked deep into her eyes.

  “What does your gut tell you, Lolita? Why did you really come here?”

  She took a deep breath, nodding. “I see Devil Spawn. Of this I’m certain. I also see another group. It is complex, intertwined, like the dreams often are—clear as the mud of the Mississippi River.”

  “What else have you seen, Lolita?”

  “I should be charging you for this, old man,” she smirked. “I’ve seen the two of us standing on a precipice, Jack and me. I can’t tell which one of us will be pushed over the edge, but one goes over in the act of saving the other. I’ve explained this to Jack. He will have none of it.”

  “No. He’s an idealist and his idealism doesn’t involve the paranormal.”

  “So what are we to do, old man?”

  Gramps stood and walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “I’ve asked my grandson to call me every morning. This is the second day since I’ve asked him to do so. And today, I’ve had no call.”

  Lolita stood up as if her behind had been stung by a bee. “Gramps, if it were me, I’d be calling him right now. I don’t know about you, but I just experienced a premonition something bad is in the works.”

  He turned to look at her. “I don’t believe in coincidences. The fact that you are here telling me this is enough to warrant a drive to Ft. Myers. I know you are from that area; I can give you a ride, if you want.”

  “Bonita, but that’s close enough,” she smiled. “I’m an old-fashioned girl, growed up poor, and I never turn down a ride, mister.”

  ****

  Beth raised her eyes as the stranger walked into the reception room. He was on the short side with dark black hair and a well-trimmed beard. His accent came across as French, but she couldn’t quite tell.

  “Is Mr. Portman in?”

  Beth smiled, her expression soon quashed by the man’s sour look. “You missed him. He left for the day about an hour ago. Can I tell him who called?”

  The man turned abruptly and walked out of the office.

  “Have a nice day,” Beth responded to the door closing and the little bell ringing.

  ****

  Mason rolled his eyes as he hurried down the steps. “Satanists don’t have nice days!” he mumbled under his breath. “And it just got worse.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE EAGLE SOARED HIGH above the salt estuary. She saw, with magnified vision, the mullet schools moving down the beach by the thousand. She could see the large sharks that darted onto the massive schools, causing the fish to scurry and leap from the water, the jack crevalle picking up the scraps. A slight adjustment turned the great predator sharply inland, passing over the massive concrete structures, which seemingly reached toward the sky. Storm clouds loomed inland, rising in great plumes caused by the day’s heat.

  The great bird dove after clearing the buildings, heading toward the bay behind the island. She swooped low to grab a small herring as it skipped to the top of the water but veered away quickly as she neared a strange form. The unmoving land walker floated faceup, its features bloated from the salt water, its eyes plucked by the crabs. The eagle veered upward, toward the sun . . .

  Jack startled from sleep, the dream st
ill fresh in his mind. He must have yelled out, as Janie appeared at the end of the couch, the kitchen light shining behind her.

  “Jack, you were talking in your sleep. Loudly. I thought there might be someone else in here until I saw you. You’re soaked with sweat.”

  He put a hand up. “I’m okay, just a dream.”

  “Would you like some water?”

  “Sure.” He thought about the image of his cousin’s body floating in the water. Though distorted, there could be no doubt it was Josh. Jack didn’t know what bothered him more: the vision or the fact that he might be considering the vision to have some validity. He’d experienced them before and they were always the same—the bald eagle. When he was younger, he’d told his grandfather about the bird, bringing a broad smile to the man’s face. “It’s your double, Jackson. Our forefathers called them familiars. My grandfather’s familiar was a fox. You should be so lucky to have an eagle.”

  Jack shook his head at the memory. “Bullshit!” he said.

  “What’s bullshit, Jack?” Janie asked from behind, offering a glass of water.

  He took it and shook his head again. “Just bullshit Native stuff. Dreams.”

  “I’m all ears, now that I’m awake.” Janie saw a tremor in Jack’s jaw; his distress over Josh was clear. “This isn’t an invitation in any way. We’re just friends, and don’t take advantage of that fact.” She led him into her bedroom, propped up some pillows and motioned for him to climb in beside her.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he said awkwardly.

  “There’s no idea, Jackson. You’re upset and I don’t think you should be alone.” She patted the bed. “We both need some sleep and I want to hear about this dream.”

  He shrugged and climbed in beside her. Janie was right; it felt good to be near a friend.

  She turned off the light and made herself comfy. Taking his hand, she rubbed her thumb into his palm. “Tell me about it.”

  He laid his head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. “Do you believe in all of this paranormal shit my gramps talks about?”

  “He sure believes in it. Let’s put it this way: I’d like to believe in it, but I find it hard to. From what I gather, you’re kind of the opposite. You don’t want to believe in it but find it hard to get away from it.”

  “Sort of. Gramps says I have a familiar, an eagle. She sees through me, and I can see through her. When I was a little boy, I used to like the dreams. They took me to a place no one else could go. Mostly flying.”

  “Sounds incredible. Who would not want that? Especially a little boy.”

  “It was, until I became older. I learned to shut the dreams out. It’s when I let my guard down that it returns. Perhaps the stress of the night . . . the bad feeling in my gut, sleeping in a strange place. I think something bad happened to Josh.”

  “So tell me.” She continued to massage his hand, cuddling into him a bit. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  He sighed, “No, Janie, it’s actually very nice. I haven’t slept with a female in a long time. Well, you know what I mean. It’s nice having someone warm beside me.”

  She smiled to herself. “How long?”

  “You might find this hard to believe.”

  “Don’t tell me. The Satanist girl?”

  He let out another long breath. “Yeppers.”

  “Oh, Jack, you poor soul. If it wasn’t for the fact it might destroy our working relationship, I’d give you some sympathy sex right now, but that ain’t happening. Go on.”

  “After all that occurred, I didn’t want to open myself up again. It’s actually okay. Life’s been one heck of a lot easier without a relationship to worry about.”

  Janie pulled his head onto her shoulder. “Tell me more about those dreams.” She ran her fingers through his hair, softly scratching his scalp with her nails.

  He felt the soft, heavy pressure of her breast against his arm. “Janie, that’s heavenly. I’ve experienced the dreams again lately. I try to ignore them, but tonight I must have let my guard down. When the bird flew along the coast, I recognized the tidal ponds along the southern tip of Ft. Myers Beach. Then it flew out to Estero Bay, clear as day. As it dropped to catch a fish, that’s when I saw the floating body, bloated and half eaten. It looked like Josh.”

  Her hand stilled on his scalp.

  “It makes sense. I can’t ignore this one. I told you what happened—a body had been dragged down to the back bay. Josh is gone.” The last words caught in his throat.

  “You have to give this dream some serious thought, Jackson. While you don’t want to believe, there are those who have lived their lives this way, like Gramps, and they swear by premonitions.”

  “I don’t know. I have the feeling it’s true; yet, for obvious reasons, I don’t want it to be. And I’m pissed to think I’m actually considering it could be correct. The fucking bird, though. I’m willing to admit . . . it never shows me anything but the truth. When I was a kid, it would show me where to look for the fish. I didn’t realize it at the time but, man, I was like a fish whisperer. I could sense the bird finding pleasure in my achievements. I gotta say, it did stop when I started playing football—the drugs. I knew it didn’t approve.”

  “Now, you sound as if you are accepting?”

  “Not totally.”

  “What if it is your cousin?”

  “Christ, I don’t know. I’m just hoping he’s okay. He’s a survivor.”

  “Nothing we can do about it now. The police told you to stay away. Lie back and relax again. We have a big day tomorrow. You need to rest.” She continued to massage his head. In no time, he fell asleep in her arms like a baby. She smiled and fell asleep as well.

  ****

  Jack woke with a start. He and Janie were still cuddled in bed. He turned his head to meet her eyes. She smiled. “I couldn’t wake you.”

  “What the hell time is it?” He looked at his watch: 7 AM. “We need to be in Tampa by 10!”

  “I’ll make coffee. Help yourself to the shower. If we’re out of here in twenty minutes, we’ll make it okay. We don’t need to be there, really.”

  “C’mon, Janie, we sure as heck do. I wanna see the look on that Russian’s face when the police knock on the door. I can only think it might have been me who was supposed to be dead. What if it was them who broke into my house last night? I can’t think who the hell else it might be. Think about it. Lopez ends up gone and someone gets whacked at my house. Well, we can’t say that yet, but I need to look at his eyes.”

  “There you go. You’re starting to sound like Gramps.”

  Jack scowled at her.

  She caught his look. “Hey, no way to treat someone who rubbed your head all night so you could get some sleep.”

  He huffed. “See? Women. You can’t win. I didn’t do nothing and you’re holding something over me.”

  She smiled, trying not to laugh.

  ****

  Two hours later, they were pulling off I-75 a half mile from Aversions when the phone rang. He looked at the heads-up display. “Shit!”

  “What?”

  “It’s Gramps. I’m under direct order to call him every morning.”

  He put the call on speaker. “Gramps, wassup?”

  “You didn’t call.”

  “I was busy, heading up to Tampa and needed to leave early.”

  “If I was one of your girlfriends, you’d have called me five times by now.”

  Janie giggled and covered her mouth.

  “I don’t have any girlfriends, Gramps.”

  “No matter. I have a bad feeling about something. A premonition. And I have one of your friends with me in the car. Lolita.”

  “Lolita?” This is going from bad to worse. “What on earth is she doing with you? Where are you?”

  “She came to my office today to express her concern for your wellbeing. She’s with me in the car and I’m on hands-free.”

  “Hello, Jackson.” Her mellow voice streamed into his car, inv
ading his space. He wanted to scream. But knew he had to calm himself. Pushing Janie’s hand away from his knee as she tried to pat it, he nearly cut off another car in the process. Jack’s voice rose a couple of decibels.

  “What the heck are you doing with my grandfather? This borders on stalking. It’s fucking grandfather stalking.”

  Gramps interjected, “I’m a grown man, Jackson. I make my own decisions. Calm yourself. The woman came to me because you failed to heed a dire warning.”

  Jack’s head slumped. “Aw, come on! See, this is why I don’t believe in this shit. I no longer control this situation. I don’t like that. It’s being controlled by shamans and damned fortune tellers. What does that say about the situation? O-U-T of fucking control!”

  Gramps distracted him before he hurt himself. “Where’s Josh?”

  Jack paused too long.

  “Jackson, where is he?”

  “That’s where we have a problem. When I returned home last night, he wasn’t there.”

  “This is abnormal?”

  “No, there’s more.” Jack explained what happened the previous evening, pulling to the side of the road as he neared Aversions.

  Gramps went quit for a time. “What have the police come up with?”

  “Shit, I’m supposed to go to police headquarters to make a statement this morning. I’ve not been feeling well either. I’ve been fighting something off for a few days. I feel like shit!”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t taken this seriously. You didn’t call me. This affects me. And this not feeling well could be part of it.”

  “Come on, Gramps, it’s just a bug. I was afraid to call you. Josh could be okay. And I’m already a little worked up about it; don’t you worry too.”

  Gramps used a tone Jack hadn’t heard in a long time. “A little worked up about it. It sounds likely that your cousin was injured and crawled to the water, or his body was dumped there. Are you in denial? Don’t you think you should have called me? You are the most apathetic person I’ve ever met—”