by Deb Lewis
The busy women in the kitchen ranged in age from about twelve to eighty five. They turned their eyes towards Pat curiously as they heard her laugh. Then, seeing it was just ‘the crazy Lutheran pastor’, they turned as one back to the serious work of feeding the multitudes. Hesitating, Pat shifted the heavy box to her other hip.
“Are you just going to stand there to admire our work, or are you here to help?” The gruff words were dispelled by the big grin on the islander’s weathered face.
“Want them here?” Pat asked as she carefully placed the load on the end of the table.
“Yes, that’s just fine.”
“I’m here to help. Can I make more coffee?”
“No, no. We heard all about you. The word we got was that if we let you make the coffee you’ll use so many grounds that our profit will be drunk up.”
Laughter broke out all over the room.
“I guess my coffee tastes have preceded me. So be it,” Pat said, pretending to be offended. “So what do you need?”
The women looked at each other as they continued their work.
Pastors aren’t known for their kitchen skills, the islander thought, sizing Pat up. But at least she’s a woman and has that going for her.
The woman would never say this to Pat directly, because, like the others, they were Midwesterners first and foremost and always polite.
“Tell you what,” a woman about Pat’s age said with a twinkle in her eye as she wiped her floured covered hands on her apron. “Why don’t you be a money changer at the door for a while? You know, just take in the money. We know pastors are good at that!” There was even louder laughter this time. Pat joined in.
There is nothing like a church kitchen, that’s for sure.
Walking over to the door she was surprised at the line forming outside. Women were dressed in everything from casual clothes to suits. All were smiling and chatting, trying to keep the cold wind out of their bones.
“Can I let them in?” she called out.
“Might as well. When we run out I guess we run out. First though, do you think we should pray? Lord knows we need the help.”
“Pray to yourselves, then,” the woman frying yet another pan of crispy bacon answered. “God will understand. He won’t want us to serve a cold meal.”
Opening the door, Pat gulped and then said a little prayer of her own, because the line of chattering women went all around the block.
Lord, I hope they remember that they all are watching their weight or we’ll run out before half of them get through the door. Amen. Crossing herself, she motioned to the first group to come in.
“What are we charging?” Pat called.
“Mary, Mother of God, I don’t know,” came the reply from the elderly woman, not caring that the attendees could hear her every word. “Make it a free will offering, but hells bells, we better make enough to fix the organ. That thing wheezes like my old aunt Franny!”
Someone else has a little trouble with swearing, Pat thought, as she took the money from the first woman.
“Will ten dollars be okay?” Yes, Pat thought as she nodded her head, I think the organ is going to get a new sound.
After an hour or so of a steady stream, Pat went back to the kitchen.
“Can you get someone else to take money? It’s slowed way down. I have to check on a few things.”
“Oh, just put what you’ve collected in that drawer, and make a sign saying it’s a free will offering. We’ve already made a great profit.” The chief cook smiled. “Thanks for the help.”
Pat did what any wise pastor does and followed the directions of the women in the church kitchen. She put the sign out and walked out the door.
Darn, I left my cell phone in my jacket, she thought, just as she bumped into someone.
“Sorry. Oh, Linda, it’s you. Are you coming for breakfast?”
“No, you know me. I was up with the sun. I ate hours ago. But this is the place Deb asked me to try to get statements.” She held out her notebook and pen. “I’m supposed to ask questions, and then report back.”
“It’s not really statements, Linda. We’re not really detectives. Are you sure you don’t mind? I want you to have some fun.”
“Heck no. I don’t have a class until…” she looked at her pad. “Ten thirty. I’m going to Noreen’s watercolor class. This is fun. You didn’t already ask people here yet, did you? This was supposed to be one of my spots.”
“No,” Pat assured her. “I was too busy collecting money. Happy hunting.”
Linda fondly watched her go.
Good thing we’re here to help.
Squaring her shoulders and using the loud occupational therapist’s voice she saved for children, she called,
“Excuse me. If I could have your attention, please. As you probably know, the police think someone may be missing from the ferry.”
A cacophony of voices responded with questions.
“That’s all I know, too, really,” Linda replied. “But I’m going to come to each of your tables to take down any information. Anything at all that you heard or saw.”
“Like what?” came a voice from the rear.
“Like a woman you know that was coming and you haven’t seen. Something that seemed odd or out of place to you.” “Are you with the police?”
“Oh no, just with the retreat. So I’ll start over here, shall I? Thanks in advance for your help. Also, if you have information and don’t have the time to wait or for some reason you don’t want to tell me personally, leave it on the message board.”
“Sure, we’ll help,” a woman replied…,“as long as it doesn’t interfere with my ten o’clock massage.”
Everyone laughed as Linda got to work, starting at the closest table.
Chapter Thirteen
June 21
“Hi, Pat! Coffee’s comin’ right up. Depth charge in it, right? Extra hot?”
Pat stood in the doorway at Lotta’s, eager to put her feet up after serving breakfast to the multitudes at the church.
“Better make that with extra espresso. With all this craziness I might just need it,” Pat replied, looking around at the crowded room and the line of women behind her.
“Suit yourself. Have a seat. I’ve been keeping that one for regulars.” Lotta nodded her head toward a small table by the side of the counter.
“Thanks!” Pat replied, pulling out one of the sturdy wooden chairs and sitting down next to Bev.
Isn’t it great that she thinks of me as a regular? Pat thought.
After she finished making the hot drink, Lotta handed the steaming cup to Pat.
“I’m taking a break. Come out and take over for me please,” she yelled toward the kitchen. A young woman came out smiling at the line of women waiting to be served.
“What can I get you? Are you here for the women’s coven event?” she asked one customer, taking her order.
“Hey!” Lotta gave the woman a stern look, before turning back to the table. She picked up a colorful quilt top about the perfect size for a newborn that had been setting on a bench.
“Beautiful,” Pat said, “and it’s not just in all pink or blue,” she added approvingly. She savored her coffee as she watched Bev shuffle cards she held in her hands.
“How was the breakfast?” Bev asked.
“Crazy. How could this happen?” Pat whined
“If you build it, they will come. Or, in your case, if you invite them, they will come. Why are you so surprised?” Lotta asked. “Personally, I’m grateful. This time of year it’s great to have the shop filled with folks. Do you know I had two women waiting for me to open this morning?” She stitched away at the colorful quilt.
“You won’t find me complaining, either,” Bev said. “I’ve got people signed up for readings almost the entire day. I even had to blank out time for lunch and a massage. By the way, thanks for bringing a masseuse out here. She’s setting up after lunch and she’s so busy, I could barely get in.”
“What
’s wrong with me?” Pat replied. “It was my hair brained idea to have everyone come for solstice. Seriously, what a typically crazy thing to do. But, it’s really a hoot, isn’t it?” she added with a shrug of her shoulders.
“I know I’m coming for the bonfire, and I can’t wait to get to your workshop on writing. Buck up. It’s only a few days,” Lotta encouraged. “What could go wrong?”
“So, do you want me to do a reading for you?” Bev asked after she finished shuffling the cards. She looked up at Pat with a smile. “It’s on the house since you’ve brought me a lot of business.” She held out the deck invitingly.
“Better watch out,” Lotta teased her friend. “She has been reading the cards with such accuracy lately, people have been saying she’s a witch.”
“I’m not denying or confirming that rumor,” Bev said with a grin. “Although there have been times when they’ve called me that with a slightly different spelling.
“So, want me to give it a try for you?” she asked, turning towards Pat. “I don’t have a customer for half an hour.”
Pat looked closely at Bev. I’ve seen that true believer look projected many times on lots of religious fanatics, she thought. I’m just not sure I believe cards can tell my fortune. I have to be careful of Bev’s newfound hobby, if that’s what you call it.
“What would your church women think about this?” Lotta asked.
“I’m not constrained by worrying about that,” Pat said. My theology is pretty broad as long as it’s for good purposes.”
Bev’s wheelchair was not noticeable until she pulled away from the table. Fiercely independent, her M.S. hadn’t stopped her from traveling around both the inner and outer worlds. Her latest spiritual foray had been to learn the cards.
What the hell? Read my cards, you say? I’m the captain of my own ship, thank you very much, Pat thought. But, if I wait much longer, Bev might be offended.
With a consenting nod from Pat, Bev picked up her Rider’s deck, an oversized pack of cards and placed them on the table. She handed the deck to Pat.
“What do I do?” Pat asked.
“Shuffle them,” she said, “and cut the deck three times. We need your essence to go into the cards.”
Right, Pat thought as she awkwardly shuffled the oversized deck.
Bev took the cards back after Pat finished.
“Tarot suits are different from your spades, hearts diamonds, and clubs. Do you know anything about them?”
“I’ve had readings before. Let’s see. There were majors and minors and great pictures. I know there were Wands and Swords. And the Fool and Death.”
“And Cups and Pentacles,” Bev said encouragingly, as she held the deck in her hands.”
“So, now what?”
“Now comes the mysterious part. We decide what to ask the cards.”
Pat didn’t even hesitate.
“What happened to the missing woman and who is she?”
Bev pulled a card from the deck.
“So, not one question, but two. Interesting, and, of course, how do you fit into this puzzle?”
After showing it to the other women, she laid it on the table.
“Pat, that’s you,” she pointed, “in the here and now.”
Lotta returned to her quilting.
“Darn, I pricked myself. Hand me that napkin, will you, Pat?”
Pat reached out with a napkin, and saw that Lotta’s finger was bleeding. As Lotta took the napkin a single drop fell onto the card.
“Sorry,” Pat apologized, looking at Bev contritely. “At least it didn’t get on the new quilt.”
“You need to take this seriously,” Bev admonished her. “Pat, these cards now have blood on them.” She shivered. “Do you want me to continue?”
Pat looked at her with a chagrined expression.
“Of course. I mean, I’m sure it will be just fine. What is that card anyway?”
“Yes, funny isn’t it? This is the card that kept coming up when I was learning and doing your reading. It’s the Jester.”
“You’ve been reading my cards?”
“Just practicing,” Bev replied, her attention focused intently on the deck in her hands.
“Jester? Does that mean I’m a clown?”
“Hardly. The Jester represents the childlike ability to tune into the inner workings of the world.”
“That sounds like me.”
“Pick something else. She wants a good fortune,” Lotta said, looking at the card and still dabbing her finger.
Pat leaned forward. “Is that one bad?”
“Don’t encourage her. Bev will start over again. Or worse, she’ll do full twelve cards, the most elaborate reading. You better have the time. Once she starts, she won’t stop,” Lotta warned.
“That’s okay. I’m game. Do you really think you can read my future with the cards?” Pat asked skeptically.
“The question is, is she reading the cards or your face and body language?” Lotta asked. “You know what they say. Even a monkey can hit the right keys on a key board and spell a word now and then.” She leaned over her quilting and held it toward the window. Her head was tucked down in concentration as her needle once again went in and out of the fabric.
“In case you’re wondering, I’m making this for Bev’s new granddaughter,” Lotta said with a smile.
“She’s a real artist, that’s for sure. I read it in her cards. She always turns up the Empress, also,” Bev said, concentrating on laying out the cards in a complicated pattern.
“I always wanted to be an Empress,” Pat joked.
“The Empress can represent the germination of an idea before it is ready to be fully born,” Bev explained. “Hmmm, Wow, the Five of Pentacles is reversed, and it’s right next to the Chariot. Strange.”
Putting down her cup, Pat pointed to a card.
“What’s that one mean? It looks kind of like five swords. That looks positive, doesn’t it?” she asked hopefully. The other two women exchanged a glance that made her feel uneasy.
“I just knew she would do this,” Lotta said.
Bev ignored the comment and took a deep breath.
Sounding is if she were in a trance, she began the reading.
“The Tower stands for hidden evil… more than an enemy, more like a danger and confrontation, a battle. It’s placed over your Jester so it’s the main influence touching you or the missing person… you may be in a battle for this person, or she may be in a battle for something or someone else. In either case, it implies having to put oneself in danger to protect another.”
“Gee, I’ll bet you tell that to all your clients. You’d never make any tips if you did,” Pat said playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Without looking up, Bev pointed to another card directly above it. The Devil. She cleared her throat after pointing out the Devil card.
“This represents difficulties, problems to solve. And this one? Death.” A heavy silence invaded the space. “This one means someone is missing, or left. Either forced or by their own free will. Gone. It can also represent new beginnings.”
“Stop it, Bev. She doesn’t need to hear all that stuff. She’s got enough challenges these next few days.”
“Yes… yes I do,” Pat answered. “Go ahead.”
Bev hesitated.
“Well, remember, I’m just new at this. Let’s look this up.”
She turned to her little book of helps and referring to the Death card, read:
This is one of the clearest cards when it comes to meaning. False structures, false institutions, false beliefs are going to come (or have already come) tumbling down, suddenly, violently and all at once. This sort of prediction can scare anyone, especially as the one you’re reading for likely does not know that something is false. Not yet. To the contrary, they probably believe that there are no problems in their surroundings, that everything is fine at work… oh, and that they’re fine. Just fine, really.
Alas, they’re about to get a ver
y rude awakening. Shaken up, torn down, and blown asunder. And all a reader can really do to soften the blow is assure the querent that it is for the best. Nothing built on a lie, on falsehoods, can remain standing for long. Better for it to come down so that it can be rebuilt on truth-or not rebuilt at all, if that’s what seems best. This rude awakening is not going to be pleasant or painless or easy, but it will be for the best in the end.
“You could at least let her live until after this big solstice celebration,” Lotta said sarcastically. “You know they burned women like her in the past, don’t you?”
“Look! Here are two good cards,” Bev continued. “This card at your feet says you are brave and true and this one at your right, the Star, means you will have help if you choose to use it.”
“So that’s good?”
“Well, not so good. Frankly, looking at the big picture, I’ve never seen so many negative cards, pardon me, challenging cards in one reading. Of course, I’m just a beginner, really,” she added hastily, looking up and seeing Pat’s face.
Pat glanced down at the cards laid out on the table. The coffee no longer tasted good in her mouth. Even to her untrained eyes the cards looked all dark and foreboding.
“Do you know where these challenges are coming from?” Pat asked.
“See this card here? It seems like it’s sort of from a dark place out of time or space. It’s confusing. Well, that’s enough of that.” Scooping up the cards, Bev quickly shuffled them as if to get rid of the reading entirely.
“You know you’re in charge of your own life. And you don’t need to worry. You’re surrounded by women friends and family. What better protection could there be?”
“So, do you think you two could help with the serving tomorrow morning?” Pat asked. “The church ladies think we’ll have to serve in shifts for the breakfast. You won’t believe what a madhouse it was this morning at the church.”
Neither woman balked at the request.
“I’d be glad to help you,” Bev said. “With a Tarot reading like you just finished, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“I better get back to work,” Lotta said.
“Look at the time,” Pat said, standing up to leave.