by Kallysten
* * * *
Sam was trying to keep calm. He was trying very, very hard. After all, it was hardly the first time his ‘talent’ had been questioned. It wasn’t the first time he had been called a crook, either.
So why did it bother him so much that Helen’s sister was staunchly refusing to admit there was even the slightest chance that he might be telling the truth?
“Doesn’t the fact that your sister is marrying the man I showed her mean anything?”
Daisy huffed. She crossed her arms and clasped her elbows with her gloved hands as though to keep them still.
“I don’t know how you conned her, but I have no doubt your little act is well rehearsed. It makes for great publicity, doesn’t it? Next time you do an interview or whatever, you can let it slip that you were just invited to the wedding of one of your happy customers.”
She was so far off base that, for a few seconds, Sam couldn’t do more than stare at her, unable to figure out where to even start. He’d never talk about someone he had given a vision to in an interview. He’d never call them his ‘customers’ either, and even if he had seen them as such, Helen was anything but.
Before he could figure out how to reply, she leaned close to him and jabbed a gloved finger at his chest.
“Let me warn you, Mister Woods,” she hissed, quietly enough that no one but Sam could hear, “if my sister is ever unhappy because she married the guy you picked for her, I will ruin you. I will go to every book signing, every TV show you appear on, and you will not like what I tell whoever listens.”
The threat amused Sam more than anything. “What will you tell these same people when her marriage does work out?” he asked, raising a curious eyebrow. “Will you give testimony that I really do what I say I do?”
His reaction was clearly not the one she had expected. Her finger remained against his chest for a few seconds longer as she looked at him in confusion.
“You actually believe your own hype,” she said at last, taking a step back and sounding surprised. “I’m not sure if that’s worse than you being an outright liar or not.”
A laugh burst out of Sam, unexpected and uncontrolled. Only when he realized people all around them were stopping their conversations to look at him did he manage to get a hold on himself.
“You know,” he said, still chuckling, “I’ve met a lot of people who didn’t believe me, but none of them has ever been quite as vehement as you are.” A waiter was passing by with a tray of champagne flutes. Sam lifted two glasses, and as he handed one to Daisy, he couldn’t help riling her up a little more. “Cheers, Destiny.”
She took the champagne by sheer reflex but didn’t raise the glass to meet his. Instead, she stared at him with incredulous eyes.
“Helen… Helen told you?” she all but sputtered. She looked away to scan the crowd. “She’s lucky it’s her wedding day or I’d kick her scrawny behind.”
As he took a sip of champagne, Sam was still grinning. He didn’t bother to explain that Helen hadn’t told him about Daisy’s real name; he had heard it in Helen’s vision. He had seen the two sisters talk before the ceremony and witnessed Helen’s anxiety and how close she had been to running. She might have, if not for the memory of the vision that confirmed that marrying Eric was the right thing to do. Or maybe it was Daisy’s hug and the reassurances she had offered that had steadied Helen’s nerves.
With the barest nod of her head, Daisy took her leave. To his own surprise, Sam felt rather sorry that he probably wouldn’t see her again. He could already tell that she had the same fire as her sister, the same devotion to the people she considered hers. If only she hadn’t been so antagonistic…
* * * *
After he came home from a grueling ten-hour taping session for his TV show, Sam wanted three things: food, a shower, and his bed. He wasn’t too particular about the order, either.
Sheer habit guided his hands: lock the door of his apartment, hang up his jacket, drop his keys and wallet on the low shelf, press the blinking button of his answering machine.
The hesitant, almost reluctant voice that rose in the silence was possibly the very last person Sam thought would ever call him.
“Hi, this is Daisy. Uhm… I don’t know if you remember me. Helen’s sister? We met at her wedding?”
Sam did remember, yes. In fact, he quite clearly recalled Daisy calling him a liar to his face. Rubbing the back of his neck, he continued to listen, curiosity winning over his tiredness, at least for now.
“She gave me your number. I was wondering if you would… I mean, I told some friends I had met you and… Helen mentioned you still do readings? If you do, could you give me a call?”
She rattled out a number before saying goodbye and hanging up. Sam jotted it down on the notepad by the phone, again habit rather than conscious thought.
There were two other messages on his machine; he deleted them after listening to each only a few seconds. He toed off his shoes, went to the kitchen, pulled some leftovers from the fridge to warm in the microwave. As the cartons spun, so did his thoughts. At the wedding, he had been amused rather than offended by Daisy’s reaction. She was hardly the first person to think his ability to give people visions of their future was nothing more than a hoax. Usually, however, his detractors could admit that it was at least possible, and if he challenged them to try it for themselves, they sometimes agreed. They couldn’t deny his claims after they had experienced what he did. Daisy, however, had been inflexible.
What could possibly have changed her mind?
As his food continued to warm, he returned to the entryway and grabbed both the cordless phone and her number. He dialed it on his way back to the kitchen, switching the phone to his left hand while he pulled the food from the microwave with the right and set it on the small table.
The phone rang five times and he took three forkfuls of fried rice before she finally picked up.
“’lo?” she mumbled into the phone.
“Hey, Daisy. It’s Sam Woods. I’m returning your phone call.”
There was a long pause, long enough that he wondered if she had changed her mind again and hung up on him, and then she asked, “Do you often return phone calls at one in the morning?”
He froze with his fork halfway to his mouth and set it down again without eating. A glance at the clock on the oven caused him to grimace.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize… I just came home from work, and I forgot it was so late. I’ll call you back at a decent hour. Sorry again.”
Before he could hang up, however, she sighed and said, “Well, I’m awake now. We might as well get this over with.”
Sam frowned at his dinner, running his fork back and forth over the rice. That was a peculiar way to start a conversation when you wanted something.
“You wanted me to do a reading for you?” he asked.
“Not for me,” she said very fast, and she didn’t sound half-asleep anymore. “For some of my friends. A couple of them are fans of your show, and when they heard I met you, they were very excited. They made me promise I’d ask you.”
Her voice made it quite clear what she thought about their excitement over something—someone—so trivial. Sam was beginning to tire of the way she spoke to him. Or maybe he was just tired, period.
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell them I’m a charlatan,” he said, barely refraining from snapping at her. “And surprised you’d want to be part of my scam.”
For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence on the line. Sam wondered again whether she had hung up on him when she finally spoke, her voice slow and tight.
“I promised them I would ask. I did. Is your answer no?”
Was that what she wanted? To be able to truthfully tell her friends that she had asked, and blame him, the con artist, the charlatan with a TV show, for not being interested in talking to them?
Well, screw that.
“No. My answer is yes. How many people are we talking about? Any plans as to the where and when?”
Another pause, and Sam stabbed a piece of shrimp with his fork with a vindictive gesture. How unpleasant would she be to him if he was her guest rather than her sister’s?
“Uhm… Really? Okay. They’ll be happy.”
They, he noted, with a snort. Not her. She had to be disappointed he had agreed.
“Four of them were interested for sure,” she continued. “Maybe more.”
“I can do up to ten in one evening,” he provided. “It takes somewhere around four hours for that many. And it’s better if I do it in a separate room. Somewhere quiet, at least.”
He could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind when she said slowly, almost absently, “All right. I guess that could work. I was thinking of throwing a party for New Year’s Eve, but I know it’s short notice and—”
“New Year’s Eve sounds fine,” he interrupted her.
It certainly beat staying home alone with a six-pack of beer or trying to pick a one-night stand in a bar. And ten readings meant ten more opportunities to find the right person for him. He sometimes felt stupid for hoping still, but with the disappointment of every vision, there also came the certainty that everyone found their match in the end.
“All right,” Daisy said again. “Do you mind if I call you back in a couple of days to give you the place and time?”
“That’s fine.”
“And what about…” Her voice hardened again. “What about your fee? Do you charge per reading or per event?”
Sam snorted to himself. Of course she would think he demanded money in exchange for his visions. She really didn’t understand what he did and why, did she? But then, when he had tried to explain, she hadn’t been interested.
“I don’t charge anything,” he said calmly.
Her surprise resounded in a startled, “Really?” After a second, she added, “I’m sorry, I thought—”
“That I’m a crook, yes,” Sam finished for her. “I won’t say no to a bit of food and a glass of wine, especially if the visions run long, but that’s all I ask for.”
That, and a chance at finding love, but she didn’t need to hear that.
They exchanged goodbyes, and Sam disconnected the call. He stared at the phone for a little while, still surprised by this turn of events. He received requests for readings like this one every now and then, and he never refused one—never dared to risk losing a chance at finding the right person—but he had never had someone who didn’t believe him ask before. He wondered if she would believe by the time her party ended.
Part of him hoped she would, although he couldn’t have explained why.
* * * *
The night air was cool, even cooler now that Sam had offered his jacket to Daisy, but that wasn’t why he shivered when he took her hand in his. Something passed between them in that simple touch, like a burst of electricity, not quite strong enough to hurt but still startling.
His mind filled with images. Memories, he thought at first, but after going through hundreds, thousands of visions, it didn’t take him long to recognize this for what it was.
A small part of his mind clung to reality like he was clinging to Daisy’s hand. Her eyes had closed and the look on her face was calm, relaxed… maybe even a little resigned. She was seeing it, too, wasn’t she? She was seeing, hearing everything he did. Not only that: she had expected it. Why would she, though? It had always happened with a kiss before, not simply from holding hands, and—
Another memory started, another vision, and Sam soon lost himself in the moment.
* * * *
When Sam stepped out of his car, for a few seconds he wondered if he had somehow ended up in the wrong place. The store’s awning and its name were different from what he remembered seeing in Brett’s vision. He checked the name of the street on the post at the corner, and he realized that this was, indeed, the right store. It struck him that, of course, his memories would be different. Brett’s vision had taken place far enough in the future for the storefront to have changed. Sam wasn’t sure how far into the future, but it had definitely been more than the two months that had passed since the New Year’s Eve party at the cottage.
Shaking away the dissonant memories, Sam crossed the street and opened the store’s front door. A light bell announced his arrival, and at once a gray-haired man approached, stepping along a narrow path through a maze of antique furniture. Clear, intelligent eyes observed Sam from behind thick glasses as the man said, “Hello and welcome! Can I help you find something today?”
Sam looked around him. The store was darker than he remembered, more cluttered. He could hear Daisy’s voice, but not see her.
“I was hoping to talk with Daisy, actually,” he said with a smile.
The man’s eyes narrowed in a way Sam would have expected from Daisy’s father, but not from her employer.
“She is helping another customer,” he said after a few seconds. “I will let her know she has a visitor when she’s done.”
Sam nodded in thanks, and the old man retreated. Sam held his hands behind him to resist the temptation to touch and walked idly around the shop, recognizing pieces here and there that he had seen in the vision he had given Brett a little over a month earlier. When he approached a glass display, he felt a pang as he saw not just a random object, but the very same rings Brett had bought—would buy. It was often a little confusing to think of things he had seen but that hadn’t happened yet, and he was somehow glad that part of his life was over.
“Looking at rings already?”
He turned to watch her come closer. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement.
“You’re not losing any time, are you?” she teased. “We’ve been on what? Two dates?”
He leaned in to brush a kiss over her cheek, and she was smiling a little more brightly when he pulled back.
“Three if you count New Year’s Eve,” he replied, grinning back.
“That wasn’t a date,” Daisy said, and while her tone was chiding, her smile softened the words.
“Wasn’t it? As I recall, you flirted with me all night long.”
He struggled to keep his voice even at the claim, but it was worth it if only to see Daisy’s eyes widen in outrage.
“I flirted with you?” she sputtered. “You’re the one who kept asking for a kiss! Always in such a hurry!”
Her gaze flicked toward the ring display, and Sam wasn’t sure whether he imagined the curiosity there.
“I was looking at those,” he said, pointing at the platinum bands. “But not for—” Us was on the tip of his tongue, but after only a couple of dates, it really was a bit quick. “Not for me,” he finished. “Someone you know will want them in a few years.”
“Someone I know?” she repeated, her eyes now narrowed thoughtfully.
Sam was sure she would ask whom, but after a second or two, she simply nodded. “Maybe I should put them where no one else will buy them, then,” she said quietly, and threw a conspiratorial glance toward the store owner.
Grinning, Sam looked at the display again. The platinum bands were out, but there were a few other pieces in there that were quite lovely, and he could easily imagine a couple of them on Daisy’s finger—or even his own.
“You didn’t come all this way to not tell me about one of your visions,” Daisy said after a moment.
Sam suddenly felt like a teen again, awkward and terrified to ask the girl he liked to a school dance. How silly, really, seeing how he knew she would say yes.
“We were just talking about dates,” he said with a self-conscious shrug. “And Valentine’s Day is around the corner. I thought maybe you’d like to spend the evening with me?”
“You thought so, huh?” A twisted smile pulled at Daisy’s lips.
“See, this is exactly why I didn’t want to know my future. Where’s the surprise? I already knew you’d ask, and you already knew I’d say yes.”
Sam took her hand the way he had that night on the beach. She always shivered when he did, and he thought he knew why: she was bracing herself for the glimpses of life she was given when she touched other people. But unlike what happened with other people, the images of their shared future had never come again after the first time they had touched, and they both still had a lot to discover.
“You didn’t see where I’m taking you, did you?” he asked quietly. “We still have surprises, Daisy. We were given pointers, not a full road map.”
Her fingers tightened over his. “I know. It’s just…” She shook her head. “So, where are you taking me?”
Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. “You said you wanted surprises in your life! I’m not telling. Just be ready at seven, and I’ll pick you up.”
She laughed with him. “All right. Seven. I can’t wait.”
Her boss was throwing them a mildly reproachful look, and Sam took it as his cue to leave. They said their goodbyes, and she accompanied him to the door, but Sam suddenly remembered something.
“Don’t forget Mike.”
Judging by the blank look she gave him, she had forgotten. Sam sighed. He didn’t like to intervene like this, but in this case he felt like he had a duty to. Besides, he had already given her a hint about Brett.
“He asked you something on New Year’s Eve,” he said slowly, his eyebrows rising to underscore his words. “Don’t you remember?”
She clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh! The flowers! I totally forgot!”
“Tulips,” he reminded her. “And there’s a florist in his neighborhood. Called Pam’s Flowers. You should use them.”
She frowned at that and observed him with a curious look. “I should?”