Rings On Her Fingers (Psychic Seasons

by ReGina Welling

  Kat nodded.

  "He doesn't like me; and, worse, he thinks I'm too stupid to realize it. The comments he makes seem harmless; he plays it off like he is teasing, but I feel the malice behind his words. I don't like him either, and I'm pretty sure he knows it."

  Turning up the third, or Crowning card, revealed the High Priestess in her ethereal robes standing on a set of steps. Kat thought for a moment as she placed the card above the first two then said, "In this position, I think she represents you and your intuition. The Crowning card shows what is going on right now; your sensitivity to this situation caused you to bring Julie here to meet her grandparents. You need to continue to pay attention to your innermost feelings."

  "Do you think this card also represents you? The spirits used you once, and I'd bet they'll do it again. There's no way you won't end up more involved in this."

  "Maybe." Kat said thoughtfully as she turned over another card.

  Gustavia had had enough Tarot readings to know what the next position in the layout meant: it represented the challenge at the heart of the problem. She watched Kat settle the card into place below the first two crossed cards: the Ace of Wands. "Does that mean what I think it does? That we are at the beginning of an adventure?" she asked.

  "Yes, that is exactly what it means. An adventure. Not just for Julie; but also for you, since this reading is about your connection in the events to come."

  Kat continued, "The next two cards show past and future influences. Let's see what we have." She turned the next two cards over rapidly placing one on either side of the first two cards forming a cross shape: Page of Swords and Ace of Pentacles. "This is an interesting combination, gossip and the possibility of a legacy."

  "Would the family legend qualify as gossip since we already know about the legacy part?" asked Gustavia.

  "That would certainly fit. Now, the next two cards will show what your role should be." Kat turned over the next card placing it to the bottom right of the cards already on the table: Strength.

  "Your strength will be needed, but there could also be a problem with pride, maybe something to do with your family. You will need to be watchful so that pride does not get in your way." She then laid the next card directly above Strength; this card was the King of Swords.

  Kat touched the card to read its markings in Braille then tapped it with her finger. "You will find a time where it becomes necessary to take charge of the situation even when you fear you will be resented for doing so."

  The next to last card in the layout would reveal Gustavia's hopes and fears, and the card that landed in this position, directly above the King of Swords, was the Lovers. Kat contemplated for a moment then said, "Well, this is unexpected."

  "The Lovers often signifies a type of love triangle. In this case there could be a number of explanations. Your relationship with Julie and Logan and your dislike of him might form a triangular relationship. Or, there may be another man who enters the picture. There may also be a combination of these two events."

  Gustavia nodded; then, remembering Kat could not see the gesture, murmured her assent. After a moment, she quietly admitted one of her biggest fears was Logan poisoning Julie against her.

  One last card was turned over to take its place above the Lovers. This card indicated the final outcome: it was the Ace of Swords, meaning there would be conflict and danger ahead. Neither woman was thrilled at seeing this card, though both were thankful for the warning it brought.

  Gustavia was unusually sober as she and Kat discussed possible outcomes and actions she might need to take. Clearly the situation had the potential to become serious. Neither of the women had a good feeling about Logan. Each felt he could be dangerous if provoked and there was a good chance he had ulterior motives.

  "My spirit guide keeps showing me a badge and I hear the word call. Does this mean anything to you?" Kat asked.

  "Unfortunately, it does," Gustavia answered without enthusiasm. "That would be my brother, and calling him is the last thing I want to do."

  "Well, you might be happy to know my guide is also saying reconcile and family so maybe this will be a step in the right direction."

  Gustavia shrugged. "Reconciliation is not in my immediate plan; but if I must, I'll deal with it. Calling my brother is only an option if there is real danger or something criminal is happening." Voluntarily spending time with any of her family was not high on Gustavia's list of priorities. Julie was her family now, and someday she hoped to start one of her own. Sooner rather than later, she thought.

  "Is your guide telling you anything positive?" She asked.

  "Yes, two distinct outcomes are possible: one ends badly, but the other with true happiness. Though either of the two paths lead through danger. You and Julie must both be careful."

  Chapter 4

  Hayward House sat in shabby splendor on grounds that had been passed down through Julie's family. Its original architecture had relied heavily on Greek influence until Julie's eccentric great-grandfather, Julius, had altered the structure in order to bring in some Gothic elements: elements that included four beautifully elaborate stained glass windows. The two styles did not mesh particularly well, but certainly created a house with unique character.

  As Julie walked through the front door, she heard the phone ringing. She checked the Caller ID, saw Logan's number at his office, and thought it odd that he hadn't called her cell phone.

  "Hi, Sweetie," she answered.

  "Hey, Baby; how did it go with the whackadoo brigade?" He asked.

  "That's not nice, but I have to say it was an interesting experience. You would've hated it," she decided not to share the story over the phone—it would be hard enough to believe in person—"are we still on for tonight?"

  "No, it turns out I have an early meeting tomorrow, so I'm planning on turning in early tonight. Oh, and I made the appointment with the lawyer for 11 am tomorrow." Julie's lighthearted mood quickly turned to pique. What was it with people these last couple days? Everyone was pressuring her to do things she just did not want to do.

  "Do we really need to do this? I mean, a prenup seems so cold-blooded. Don't you think we should at least be married before we start thinking about making wills and taking out life insurance policies?"

  "Honey, you know I'm only doing this for your sake; after we are married, it will be my job to protect you and to take care of you."

  "I have been doing just fine with taking care of myself for quite some time, Logan," she answered dryly.

  There was a short pause. "Well, you know I only want the absolute best for you, and I wish you'd trust me to know what you need. I have to get back to work; see you tomorrow. Love you," Logan cut off the call before she could argue the point.

  Julie hung up the phone and sighed. Thinking about dealing with the lawyer tomorrow was just one more stressful factor in an already stressful week. It was not a common occurrence for her to speak to dead relatives and have her rumpled aura repaired; but, for different reasons, the dread of having to deal with these legal matters was just as unsettling. She and Logan weren't even married yet, and she thought the whole thing was ridiculous.

  Over the past few weeks Logan hadn't been himself, and lately she'd been getting the feeling there was something deeper behind his new attitude. He couched it under the guise of wanting to take care of her, but it just felt a bit off. Maybe he was suffering from work stress, but she had a fairly advanced BS meter and he was beginning to ring that bell just a little. Okay, more than a little. She didn't like the feeling at all. He had always seemed so caring; but, lately, there had been an air of condescension centered around her decision-making ability that put her on edge.

  Choosing lemonade over her habitual cup of tea, Julie wandered around the house thinking about the decidedly cool reception Logan had gotten from her grandmother.

  When pressed, Grams had said there was nothing specifically unlikeable about the man, but she couldn't bring herself to like him. He wasn't warm enough. Since
she preferred a relationship based more on respect than romance, Julie assumed it was just a sign on their different outlooks on marriage and nothing to worry about. Logan was supportive; and if he was a little too concerned over the legal and financial side of their marriage, maybe this wasn't a fault. Deeply respectful of the grandmother who had shown her such an infinite and unconditional amount of love, this was one time when Julie had not deferred to Gram's opinion. Maybe she should have paid more attention at the time.

  Raised by people who would settle for nothing less than the drama of an epic romance, Julie liked to think she was more practical than that. She certainly wasn't about to give in to her romantic side or even to admit that it existed. If Logan was willing to deal with certain details, she could step back a bit and let him. That would be the practical thing to do, as long as his reasons were valid. But, lately, she'd come to realize that taking care of details was one thing; insinuating he had to do so because she wasn't capable of taking care of herself was another entirely, and this had become a bit of a theme over the past few weeks. Frankly, it pissed her off.

  Julie topped off her glass and carried it outside to the formal garden. She always gained a level of serenity when she visited this part of the property.

  The midmorning light fell softly through the trees and sparkled across dew-laden grass. Sitting on a bench just slightly warmed from the sun, Julie took a deep breath of air that carried the scent of carefully tended spring blossoms. She felt close to Grams here—in this place that had been her favorite—and with everything that had happened over the past few days, she needed that feeling. Grief still washed over her unexpectedly sometimes, taking away her breath and dumping her heart down into the pit of her stomach. This was one of those times.

  Her eyes filled with tears as she relaxed into the wracking spasm of heartache, dropping her head into her hands. Julie didn't see the faint shimmer beside her on the bench, didn't feel the touch of the ghostly hand that brushed down her hair as it stirred in the faint breeze. She sobbed out her pain until spent, then just sat for a few moments pulling herself back together with an effort.

  Grams and Grandpa James had made wonderful parents. They'd raised her together for five years until James had arisen one morning complaining of pain in his stomach. Three days later the doctor said he had cancer and, after just six short weeks, he was gone. From then on it was just Julie and her grandmother, Estelle, until last fall when, at age 89, her kidneys had failed. Grams had remained remarkably active right up until her final illness.

  It was time to put these thoughts aside and concentrate on the mess that Gustavia had unwittingly dumped in her life. First, she needed to look for the copy of the family history she remembered having seen in the library and read through it to see if there was anything helpful to be learned.

  With any luck, the book would tell her more about the deathbed story that had caused her grandfather to conduct a short but frantic search for buried treasure on the grounds. Julie had never paid it much attention because Grams had passed the story off as the fantasy of a dying man; but, taking recent events into account, there might be more to it. If there was money or something else of value hidden on the property, her most pressing financial problems would be solved.

  Of course, that all depended on finding the magic garden, if it existed at all; and Julie felt a little foolish at the very idea of looking for clues.

  Two hours later, she sighed and gave up the search. The slim volume of family history was not in the library. Julie had not only spent time tearing the place apart and making an unholy mess besides; but she'd missed her lunch and, even worse, was now going to be late setting up for her afternoon photography client.

  Chapter 5

  Since she was running late, Julie hurried into her studio to get everything ready. Product photography was not something she did normally; but Tamara, the jewelry maker who owned the shop next door to the gallery, had talked her into shooting fifty pieces to include in the jewelry shop's new Internet store.

  During the initial consultation, the two women had decided to feature each piece against a background of neutral gray. Julie adjusted a spotlight to provide a strong, directional side light in order to add a bit or drama by bringing out the texture of the jewelry, then she installed a second, softer "fill" light at the front to create more depth and dimension. She then set up a tripod and fitted one camera with a standard lens and the other with a macro lens for extreme close up work.

  Tamara, a freckle-faced redhead of indeterminate age, arrived promptly, breezing in with her small plastic tote full of carefully packed jewelry. She set down the tote, hugged Julie and exclaimed, "Finally, I get my chance to peek inside this house. My brother has told me so many stories about this place, but I never had a good reason to visit."

  "Oh? Now, that makes me curious; what kind of stories?" Julie asked.

  "Well, he was just turning thirteen when your great-grandfather passed away. He used to do odd jobs around town in the summers to make a bit of spending money, and he always said the oddest was the one he did for Ed Hayward."

  "What was that?"

  "Edward paid him to dig holes around the property."

  "Really?" Julie asked. "Did he ever say what they were looking for?"

  "Not as far as I know, but Brody said he thought your grandfather seemed a bit desperate about the whole thing. Edward had a map of the property with a grid drawn on it. In every square of the grid, they dug several holes of varying depths and then filled them back in." Tamara explained.

  "Did they dig up the entire property?"

  "I don't think so. My brother still has a copy of that map with the grids marked; would you like to see it?"

  "Yes, I would. Now, how about a tour of the place and then we can get down to work," Julie replied.

  Julie quickly showed Tamara through the house, and then, together, they unpacked the small tote full of jewelry. A few test shots showed the neutral gray backdrop worked well to showcase the colors and textures of the beads and gemstones. Working as a team, Tamara arranged the pieces while Julie took reflective light meter readings and made the necessary adjustments to her camera settings. The two quickly fell into a rhythm and two hours saw the entire project finished.

  "Let me know if you ever decide to change careers and become a photographer's assistant. That was a great shoot." Julie stretched her back to get rid of a few kinks. After transferring the images to her laptop, she and Tamara scrolled through the entire series. Deciding they looked good and none of them needed re-shooting, Julie copied them onto a flash drive while Tamara repacked the jewelry.

  After settling on a time frame for retouching the images, Tamara said she would have the map ready when Julie came by to drop them off in a few days. As Julie watched Tamara drive away, she wondered what she had gotten herself into; the thought of buried treasure on the property that in all these years had never been found just seemed ludicrous. If Edward and Brody had dug up large sections of the acreage, they should have found something. Maybe the map would provide more information about what or where the magic garden might be, but Julie doubted it would.

  Deciding to take a break entirely from the idea of treasure hunting for the rest of the night, Julie ordered in her favorite pepperoni and black olive pizza, poured herself a generous glass of red wine, and popped a chick flick into the DVD player. When the movie was over, she settled into bed with a good book before falling asleep.

  Sometime during the night, Julie jerked awake. She thought she had heard the murmuring of voices; but now, with the beat of her pounding heart echoing in her ears, she couldn't tell if the sounds had been part of a dream or real. Forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths she was finally able to quiet her blood enough to really listen. Old houses often made odd creaking noises. Sometimes it was the plumbing. Sometimes the noises were caused by the house settling. Julie was used to those types of noises, but this was different. It was not her imagination; she definitely heard voices coming fr
om the library down the hall.

  It took all of Julie's courage to get out of bed, grab her cell phone--in case she needed to call 911--and the fire poker for self-defense before creeping carefully, silently down the carpeted hall. After living here for more than half her life, she knew exactly which creaky floorboards to avoid. As she neared the library door, she could see it was ajar and there was a faint bluish light flickering somewhere in the interior.

  Kneeling down to prevent whoever had broken into the house from seeing her so easily, Julie peered around the corner before letting out a choked cry. Seated in two of the leather chairs were her dead grandmother and the man she recognized from the painting in the hall, her also dead, great-grandfather.

  The painting had not done him justice. Even sitting down, she could tell he had been a tall man with rosy, freckled skin. Soft hair faded to the yellow-tinted white that marked him as having been a natural redhead was combed back to frame a kindly face.

  Both appeared as solid as Julie herself but with a faint bluish light hovering around their bodies. Her quiet cry drew their attention to her as she knelt in the doorway, too shocked to move into the room.

  "Come in, dear girl," her grandmother said; but Julie was rooted to the floor, mouth agape.

  "Yes, girl; get in here and have a seat. There is much to discuss, even if there is little we can tell you," her great-grandfather Julius said, gesturing with what appeared to be a lit pipe. Though he spoke impatiently, she could tell his gruffness was not aimed at her, but at whatever outside force kept him from speaking plainly.

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Julie got to her feet and slowly walked into the room.

  Chapter 6