The Calling (Mae Martin Mysteries Book 1)

by Amber Foxx

  “I found Mack. And I found Ronnie’s cat. Was that a waste?”

  He sat back down, rested a hand on her sock-clad foot, and began to massage it. After a while, he looked up from the foot rub. “No. If all this stuff is true, and you really did find ’em, it wasn’t a waste.”

  Her heart melted. He had finally understood. “Thank you.”

  “It’s all so strange, though.” He leaned back and massaged her other foot. “Those studies make it sound like science, but they don’t explain it. And to me, that’s getting spiritual. I don’t like that. One thing we always had going was that we see things the same.”

  “You mean we don’t anymore?”

  “It’s always been important that you’re not religious or into a lot of spiritual stuff, didn’t take after your mama like that. We’ve been practical, down-to-earth. And you fit in so good with my family in all that.” Hubert kept his eyes on the foot rub. “I don’t like to think you’re turning into someone else.”

  She sensed a fear and sadness in him she hadn’t realized he felt. Their fights were hurting him, worrying him. She slipped her foot from his hand and scooted over on the couch to wrap her arms around him. “I’m still me, sweetie.”

  “I hope so.” He looked at the floor, then at her. “I didn’t plan to marry somebody who’s out in left field for anything other than a long line drive.”

  The joke rankled. He meant it to lighten the mood, no doubt. But after all the reading and explanations, he still judged her. He must have felt her body tense, because he moved his arm to her upper back and rubbed her shoulders.

  She said, “I want you to take me seriously.”

  “I do. You’re a smart lady—you read all this stuff from this college course, and you got something out of it. I take you seriously, hon. I just worry where it’s going. What’s next? It keeps growing. First you say you can find somebody. Then you go and tell Ronnie you’re psychic, and then you go and get a job doing it, and you’re reading about it, and—what’s this gonna do? Take over your life?”

  “No.” The idea that it could troubled her as well. She didn’t want to lose sight of her normal life, or get mixed up with things like a spirit wolf or a glowing hand. “It won’t. I promise. I might still read the rest of these articles, but I promise I won’t do psychic work again once I earn my tuition. I’ve got the personal training job, and that’s what I want to do.” And she meant that. She didn’t want to drive Hubert away, and she wasn’t even sure she could do what the customers at the Healing Balance store might ask of her. “As soon as I have the money for tuition, I’ll be done with it.”

  It felt as if she woke up every hour that night with a thousand nagging anxieties. Mae wasn’t a worrier normally, and the restlessness itself bothered her.

  In the moonlight filtering through the curtains, she looked over at Hubert, his long, thick hair spread on the pillow, his broad, solid back turned to her. She wanted to pull back the blankets and look at him, touch him, for comfort, for sheer amazement at the fact that he existed, this beautiful strong body. This man she loved, who tried to understand her and didn’t quite succeed, who feared that he could lose her if she changed.

  She rolled over, resting her back against Hubert’s. Far away a dog howled, a hunting dog with that awful beagle howl, and it somehow made Mae think of the wolf vision and how Dr. Tann’s blue eyes had been in that wolf. Spooky. Could energy and physics explain how she could see that? Or was it, like it had felt, some kind of spirit? And that light in his hand. What could make sense of that? Like Hubert said, the studies they had read didn’t explain what happened in them. Maybe some other reality had passed itself off as science to get noticed. The mystery still lay wide open.

  If it had to do with a spirit world, as Bernadette had suggested, and that world’s calling ... then Mae’s world was not what she’d believed. How strange that someone who believed in nothing might be called by a spirit world.

  A chorus of other beagles joined the howling, so far off you’d have to be awake to notice. Didn’t the owners want the whole pack to shut up, though? Mae knew some folks kept their hunting dogs outdoors all the time and didn’t want to do anything to keep them from being good trackers, so they let them hear everything and smell everything, said that if the dogs came inside they’d lose their keenness somehow. Maybe letting them howl was part of that.

  Shutting down the sight for all those years might have been like bringing a hunting dog in the house where he couldn’t smell anything wild. In a way she was like those dogs, using the scent from something to track it, the way she could hold an object and trace someone who’d touched it a lot. What would happen if she let her gifts out?

  Mae rolled over again and slipped her arms around Hubert, gently so as not to wake him. She’d promised him she’d let the psychic work go as soon as she earned the money. She’d promised her mother she’d never use the sight for anything wicked. Those promises, she could keep. But as for this new information and experience taking over her life, she was as worried about that as Hubert was.

  The only way to get some peace about this would be to talk to someone who knew, who had lived through this sort of thing. Not Charlie—he might know his way around energy and spirits, but Mae didn’t trust him. Hopefully Bernadette could listen and guide Mae.

  Tomorrow, after the personal training class, Mae hoped she could find Dr. Pena.

  To her discomfort, Charlie Tann showed up that next evening as Mae sat curled up on the couch in the second-floor hallway at Spruce, waiting for Bernadette and writing a letter to her father.

  Life seemed to be piling up uncomfortable questions. Should she use the sight? What did it mean? Should she contact her father? She’d looked him up again earlier that day, studied his face on the web site, wondering again what he could have done that was so unmentionable, what private cruelties he could be capable of. Writing a letter and asking for one back would give her time—and something of his she could hold. Maybe looking at what he’d done could be a legitimate use of the sight. Maybe not. Another one of those difficult questions.

  “Waiting for your friend?” Charlie asked, taking a chair and putting his feet up on the table where she had laid her books. He had small feet for such a big man, and nice shoes, those expensive red-brown loafers that old-money men like the purebred Tylers liked to wear.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He picked up one of her spiral-bound study guides and began to leaf through it from back to front, humming. “Don’t let me disturb you.”

  Mae attempted to refocus.

  Dear Daddy,

  I finally found out where you are after all these years. Looks like I might be hard for you to find. I used to think you didn’t want to get in touch, and Mama made you sound like a terrible man. I still don’t know what happened. I’m nervous to do this and not ready to call you, but I’d like it if you’d write, please.

  Should she tell him all about her life? Pouring herself out to someone who might betray her again felt wrong. Hubert was right. She didn’t trust.

  “So how should I work on this?” Charlie tapped the study guide on his belly. “Do sit-ups?”

  Mae shook her head. “Eat less.”

  “That’s no fun.” His voice took on a teasing quality. “I don’t do sit-ups?”

  “No, they’re bad for your back. I’m sure Randi can tell you exactly what to do.”

  “She often does,” he said with a smile, implying Randi put him in his place. “How is she, as a teacher? Is she good?”

  The small talk annoyed Mae. Maybe he really wanted to know these things, but she felt as if he were trying to command her time and attention. “Yeah, she’s great.” Mae looked down at her letter.

  I’m married, have two step-daughters—twins—and I’m studying for my personal training certification. I met my husband at community softball—I still play, and I still run.

  Even that felt like she was saying she missed her father, or the man she hoped he really was.
/>   “A letter.” Charlie pronounced the t’s distinctly, not like a southerner. “Not many people write those anymore.”

  “No, sir. I reckon not.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “I’m married.”

  “A-nd?” The word scooped and swooped like his usual ye-s, implying that marriage and boyfriends were not mutually exclusive.

  “I’m writing to my daddy.”

  “Is he back in ... wherever you’re from?”

  Mae shook her head and returned to the letter. I’d be really grateful to know what happened, why you left, the honest truth no matter how bad. I’m tired of not knowing. Should she sign it with love? Anything else sounded so cold. She wanted to still love him, but for all she knew, she shouldn’t. After staring at the letter for several breaths, she simply signed her name, Mae Martin-Ridley, and her post office box address, and slid the card into the envelope.

  “You’re a very reserved young lady,” said Charlie, and then chuckled. “Either that or you don’t like me.”

  What a manipulative thing to say. She had to either say she did or she didn’t. He’d done her a favor, so he was cornering her to be either ungrateful or appreciative. Annoyed, Mae resisted. She’d throw him a curve.

  “Can’t stand you, Charlie.” She licked and sealed the envelope and put the card in her purse. “Wouldn’t piss in your ear if your brain was on fire.”

  His eyebrows shot up, but then he gave his full-out belly laugh and handed her study guide back to her. “Touché.”

  Before Mae could start reading, the classroom door opened and students streamed out, talking to each other or turning on their phones and walking while texting and reading messages. Patsy breezed past, saying she was running to the ladies room and then to the vending machines for a soda, and that she’d be back. Bernadette lingered in the lecture hall with a few students who seemed to need to continue the class discussion longer, and Charlie rose, walking just inside the doorway.

  He waited while Bernadette finished her conversation, then approached her as the students left. “Are you ... so inclined?” he asked.

  “I need to see Mae for a few minutes.”

  “Our psychic?” The our irritated Mae. Since when did he get to use a possessive on her?

  “Yes.”

  “But are you ...?”

  Bernadette stacked two heavy books, looked down at her hands, then back at Charlie. “You and I need to talk.”

  “Don’t go all serious on me, Bern. God, you used to be fun. If you’re not interested, though, that’s fine. I’ll head home.” He started for the door.

  “Give me a few minutes.” Bernadette half-smiled, her head tilted to one side, and Charlie nodded.

  She let him pull her strings. How could Bernadette do that? She’d rolled right over like Sco did when Ty would growl at him.

  Watching Charlie stroll out of the room and down the hall with less of a hitch in his knee today, singing under his breath, Mae thought, He’s like a big old alpha dog. Or alpha wolf. Truth was, she didn’t like him, and couldn’t for the life of her see why anybody did.

  “Come in. I’m glad you wanted to talk.” Bernadette gestured to Mae and took a seat in the front row. As Mae sat next to her, she sensed a shift in Bernadette’s energy, a thawing from the tension with Charlie. “How are you doing?” Bernadette asked.

  “Mostly all right. A little—no—more than a little confused.” Mae explained about reading the articles with Hubert and how her family didn’t like her having this power, and told about finding the cat on the grave. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t see myself as a likely person to have some kind of calling like you said. I’m not spiritual at all.”

  Bernadette looked into Mae’s eyes before speaking. “Maybe that’s why you’re called.”

  “Because I’m ordinary?”

  “Because you’re grounded. You’re not spacey like some people who are into these things, and you don’t have some kind of spiritual fantasy life. You may be strong enough to handle being a healer and a seer. Most people aren’t. I’m not sure I would be.”

  Mae thought of the letter in her purse. She didn’t feel strong. It seemed so chicken to do things this way. But it was true that she wasn’t spacey or even very imaginative. She lived in her body and in the physical world. “I don’t see myself as weak, for sure, but I don’t know that I’m stronger than most people. I had this stupid, crazy first marriage. Second one’s good. But I fight with my Mama all the time—if we’re even speaking any more to have a fight. I’m not more than average strong.”

  “Strong enough to get out of a bad marriage. Strong enough to fight back when you think you should. You’d be surprised how many people aren’t.” Bernadette took a breath and her voice lowered. “A lot of us aren’t.”

  Mae hesitated to acknowledge this apparent confession. It seemed like more than she ought to know, maybe more than Bernadette meant to reveal. “But I’m not called like to be a healer the way Granma was. I don’t have any signs of that.”

  “That you know of, yet.” Bernadette’s eyes softened. “It’s a lot to contemplate, I know. You may not want to think it’s part of your gift. My medicine teacher, Bessie Yahnaki, says that once you’re a medicine person and people need you, you’re always on call. You can’t turn your back.”

  “That’s never gonna happen in Tylerton. Folks there either think it’s witchy or don’t believe in it. Anyway, I’d hurt my mother-in-law’s chance to be mayor if I went around saying I could see visions and heal people. I already stepped in it, telling my neighbor I could find his cat.”

  “Don’t dismiss it, Mae. This is important. We should talk more. I’m sorry I don’t have more time tonight.” Bernadette rose and walked to the desk at the front to collect her books. “Charlie says you’ll be doing psychic readings at the Healing Balance Store.”

  Frustrated at being put off for Charlie, Mae stood and started toward the classroom door. “I start Sunday at eleven.”

  “Why don’t I meet you there when they open at ten? We can talk some more. I need to go to the health food store there anyway.” Bernadette stepped out into the hallway and glanced down it as Charlie stepped out of the elevator, tapping his watch, giving her a raised eyebrow. “Would that work?”

  “I’d like that.” Although annoyed to see Bernadette going with Charlie, Mae was relieved that at least she would get more time with her on Sunday. “Thank you.”

  “Did Patsy give you the articles to read?” Mae nodded.

  “Read the interview with Walking Thunder, the Navajo medicine woman. I think she may have something to tell you.”

  “About having a calling?”

  “About what happens if you try to run from it.”

  Patsy rose from the couch, taking a swig of her cola, “Calling? That sounds exciting.”

  “Not to me. Sounds scary.” Mae watched Bernadette and Charlie disappear into the elevator. “Is she going out with him?”

  “I hope not,” Patsy said.

  They started walking toward the stairs. “No kidding. She could do better than that.”

  “It’s not that. I think she’d be a good match with Charlie, he’s a good guy. But he’s the department chairman. It would be, well, maybe not sexual harassment necessarily, but at least a shade inappropriate. Not as bad as dating a student, but some unfair power issues, nonetheless.”

  “I thought he was chasing that girl Dana.”

  Patsy snorted. “Dana? One, she’s your age, two, she’s married, and three, she’s in the Air Force and really conservative.”

  Mae pushed open the glass door, and the two women stepped out into the cold night air. “I could swear he was flirting with her.”

  The front of the building featured a walkway over an ornamental pond with a blue-lit fountain. As she stepped outside, Mae noticed Charlie and Bernadette leaning on the railing of the walkway, facing the fountain. They appeared to be deep in conversation and stopped talking as Patsy and Mae approached. �
��Have a good one,” Charlie said as they passed,

  “You too,” said Patsy. A few steps later, she said in an exaggerated whisper, “See, they’re not dating. They’re just talking. You’re seeing things.”

  Mae hoped so. She’d hate to think she was getting spiritual guidance from someone who’d mess around with Charlie.

  Chapter Eight

  Anxious to talk with Bernadette before starting this first day’s work, Mae approached the Healing Balance Store. The windows displayed hand-lettered signs announcing specials on products from massage oils to organic citrus fruits to a New Year’s yoga series. As she stepped inside the entrance to the health food section of the store, the scents of spices and herbs greeted her. The aisles were sprinkled with shoppers whose diversity and occasional eccentricity struck her the same way the people on the CVU campus had. Mae liked seeing someone in a turban or with dreadlocks or tattoos up their neck. These people wouldn’t think she was weird.

  “Mae,” Bernadette called from a doorway to the right, and Mae turned to see her standing in the next room, a small café. Bernadette wore jeans and a sweater, and her demeanor was so different from what she projected in her formal, professional blazer and pants, she didn’t seem like a professor anymore. “Good to see you.” Mae joined her and Bernadette walked to the counter. “Did you want some coffee?”

  The coffee smelled good, but Mae thought better of it. “No thanks. Last thing I need is to be jittery.”

  A young woman with rainbow-streaked hair and multiple piercings took Bernadette’s order for decaf coffees and a carrot muffin. Mae studied the menu handwritten on a white board. Wheat grass juice? Smoothies with bee pollen? Mae didn’t even think of that as food. The green juice in a big plastic jar next to a blender looked like the stuff in the ditch running between the yard and the fields at the Ridley farm.

  They took seats at a tiny round table. Bernadette offered Mae half the muffin, but Mae declined.