Forever (15 page)

He could no longer claim innocence in that flirtation. And none of that “just friends” nonsense. He wanted his life back. After this weekend, he believed that if he and Julie worked at it, not only could they reclaim the closeness they’d lost but maybe end up with a stronger marriage than they’d had before.

As he showered and shaved, Tom recalled wondering how his life might have been different if he’d married someone else. Someone like Annie. What a ridiculous speculation. He had nothing in common with Annie. All this reincarnation stuff was fantasy. A crock of shit to put a finer point on it. He’d known from the moment they met that Julie was the perfect woman for him—and still was.

Leaving her to enjoy her last hour of sleep, Tom dressed quietly and crept downstairs to make the coffee. With a steaming mug in hand and Excedrin in his stomach, he stood on the patio watching the sun rise and reflecting on the damage he’d done to his life.

Max nuzzled his knee, signaling he was ready to go back in. Tom checked the time. “Whoa, buddy, I’d better get going. No more half-assed work days for me.”

Despite Tom’s attempts at stealth, Julie had heard nearly every move he’d made since he slipped out of their bed. She could have let him know she was awake. She could have gone down to make the coffee while he was in the shower. But she hadn’t moved. Drowsy, she’d listened to the spatter-thrum of the shower and the buzz of his razor. The sounds he made in the kitchen had not reached her ears, but she’d heard the faint thump of the patio door when he went out and then back in with Max. The rumble of the garage door had fully woken her. Now, as the drone of his truck faded into the distance, she rolled over—and her stomach followed suit.

Julie ran for the bathroom, dragging the bedding to the floor behind her. The first retch emptied her stomach. The second and third produced only bile, setting her teeth on edge. When she felt confident the vomiting was over, she rose to the basin to rinse her mouth. Food poisoning. She wanted to blame that for this morning’s rude beginning. But she had a doctor’s appointment on Thursday. You can’t anticipate food poisoning in advance.

Something far more sinister than botulism worked inside her. The pain and spotting had started again in the middle of the night. She couldn’t ignore them any longer. How many other women at forty-two would pray those were only signs of early menopause?

“All of them—when the alternative is so much worse.” She’d spoken to her reflection in the mirror. For another minute she stared, willing that women to be strong and healthy. She turned away and let her nightgown slide to her ankles. Her face already wet with tears, Julie stepped into the shower.

* * *

Tom’s phone rang as he pulled up to the office. He knew it was Annie before he looked. He let it go to voicemail.

“How was the lake?” Bonnie asked when he entered the trailer. “Fish biting?”

“Caught a few, no trophies.” He took the cup of coffee she held out to him. “And how did you know we went to the cabin?”

“Julie called me Friday to make sure you hadn’t scheduled any appointments for the weekend.”

“Well, I’m glad I hadn’t. It was good to get away.”

“Looks like it did you good. But you’re going to earn your keep today. Two messages waiting when I got here.”

“Work is good.”

Bonnie handed him the messages she’d jotted down. He took his cup into his office and closed the door. After he returned the calls, he left his desk to make his first rounds of the site. He’d just stepped out of the trailer when someone called his name. A split-second after he started to turn toward the voice, he identified it.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?” He’d made sure his tone telegraphed his displeasure at seeing the creep, but Eddie’s smile didn’t waver.

“Oh, I was driving by and saw your sign. Just wanted to say good morning. It
is
a good morning, isn’t it? You had a relaxing weekend?”

Eddie spoke with quiet deliberation, a drone, actually.

“Yes. Look, I’m busy here. I was about to—”

“Sure. Sure. I won’t keep you. But I wanted you to know I’m glad you and Julie spent some time alone at the cabin. Last weekend, I saw evidence of the tension between you. I hope it’s not because you’ve been all work lately. Never neglect to
play
, Tom, that’s my advice. Never neglect to
plaaay
.”

Tom blinked. He nodded back to one of the carpenters as he drove by, but the movement was more automatic than conscious.

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Pay attention, Tom. I have something for you to ponder. Is it wise to leave your luscious daughter alone in that house—defenseless—when you run off to your little cabin?”

Tom blinked again, then glanced around him. Eddie was backing his Lexus out to turn around. Grinning, he rolled down his window and waved as he drove away.

Gradually, Tom became aware he stood outside the office, but he couldn’t remember whether he was headed in or out. He looked at the clipboard in his hand, nothing was checked off. He was on his way out, then.

After his rounds of the construction site, he returned to the office and dealt with a few more phone calls. Sometimes—
most
of the time—he missed the days when he was just one of the crew. He spent far too much time behind a desk and on the phone. The thought was barely formed before his phone rang again. He checked to make sure it wasn’t Annie before he answered.

“Hello, babe.”

“I wanted to let you know I didn’t go to work today,” Julie said.

“Are you sick?”

“No. I just felt like being lazy for another day. In fact, I don’t want to cook either, so I’m inviting you out to dinner tonight.”

“I’ll make sure I’m home before six. You want me to make the reservation?”

“Sure. Your choice.”

“Hey, I had a visit from Eddie this morning.”

“Eddie! Why?”

“Said he saw my sign and wanted to say hello. He asked about our weekend at the lake.”

“But . . . you must have misunderstood. I wanted to make sure Patricia wouldn’t interrupt our weekend, so I told her I was going to up to Warsaw to visit my aunt and uncle.”

“Hmm. Maybe I just
thought
he mentioned the lake. Listen, I have to go. I’ll make the reservation and see you later.”

He was positive he hadn’t made a mistake. Eddie had specifically mentioned
time alone
at the cabin. He’d also said something else, and that part was hazy, but Tom would bet his right hand Eddie knew exactly where he and Julie had spent the weekend.

June 14, part two

T
oday was Annie’s appointment with the psychic. Though she’d already paid online, she’d fought with herself about keeping it. Now, she and Kate sat in the driveway of a genuine Painted Lady. The two-story Victorian frame house, painted in shades of plum, mauve, and cream, had all its gingerbread intact. The wood-framed sign in the yard read PSYCHIC READINGS in matching shades.

Annie had pictured the psychic in an urban storefront, with a blue neon Hand of Fatima hanging out front. She’d been prepared for that, but discovering the psychic resided in this beautiful home somehow unnerved her. It added validity. Another wave of indecision washed over Annie, and she made no move to get out of the car.

“Come on.” Kate opened the passenger-side door. “You’re not backing out. I’ve got a feeling she’s going to tell you some good stuff.”

With one hand on the door handle and the other on the steering wheel, Annie calculated that Kate’s enthusiasm was in equal proportion to her reluctance. “Right now, I’m not so sure I want her to tell me
anything
. What if she just makes it all up, and I end up more confused than I already am?”

Kate walked around the car, opened Annie’s door, and pulled her out. “Go,” she commanded, giving her a push toward the house.

Hanging on the beveled glass door was another sign—MADAME DELUCA IS IN. PLEASE ENTER AND BE SEATED. They stepped into a small room, once a foyer, now a waiting room decorated in a combination New Age-Victorian theme. A half-dozen candles burned in fluted glass holders on lace-skirted tables while recorded harp music played softly in the background. Annie supposed these elements were meant to be pleasant and soothing, but her apprehension canceled out the desired effect.

Kate took a chair. Annie stood looking around the otherwise empty room. “The woman doesn’t seem to be popular, does she?” she asked Kate.

“Normally, I’m booked solid for weeks ahead,” a honeyed voice said.

Annie turned to find a petite woman with bouncy, blonde curls and merry eyes, dressed in a rose-colored nylon running suit.

“I came back from my vacation a few days early,” the woman said, “so I had no appointments scheduled for today.”

“You’re . . . the psychic?”

“I’m Donna DeLuca. The
Madame DeLuca
thing is my little joke. You were expecting someone more exotic?”

“No. Well . . . maybe.” Annie had been expecting someone a lot more exotic. Someone who spoke with an accent. Someone surrounded by an aura. She surprised herself by blurting, “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Donna glanced briefly at Kate, then gazed at Annie silently. After a moment, she stepped across the room, took Annie’s hand in hers, and smiled warmly. “Yes, you do.”

She led Annie toward an adjoining room. Before she passed through the doorway, Annie, hoping for a reprieve, looked back at her sister. Kate only gave her a big smile and shooed her on.

Heavy, dark blue drapes were drawn over the windows in the next room, leaving candlelight as the only source of illumination. In every other way, this was an ordinary dining room in Donna DeLuca’s ordinary home. Framed photos of several children, probably the DeLuca children and grandchildren, hung on the walls and sat atop the buffet among the candles.

Donna motioned Annie to sit at the long, oval table and then took the chair opposite hers. The psychic reached for her hand again. She prepared herself for a palm reading, but the woman only held it lightly between both her own hands, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. She said nothing. During the silence, Annie’s sense of foolishness grew, and she gave herself permission to leave if Donna started moaning or chanting.

Annie felt a slight tingle in the hand held by the psychic and a sort of
push
in the back of her mind. At that moment, she realized it was the same sensation she’d felt but not consciously registered, every time one of the visions began.

Abruptly, Donna let go of Annie’s hand and opened her eyes. Sitting back in her chair, again she observed her through narrowed eyes. “There is a man in your life . . . you are in love with him. He’s not free to be with you . . . and yet, you believe you are meant to be together.”

This is how they do it—bait you with possibilities and watch your reactions
. Nevertheless, she began to make a mental grocery list, hoping to block any further probing of her mind.

“You have lived a previous life with this man,” Donna said. “You see glimpses of that life. So does he, but he doesn’t understand what it’s all about.”

“I don’t understand it either,” Annie said and then clapped a hand over her mouth. For the second time in less than five minutes, her mouth had betrayed her.

Donna continued speaking slowly, as much to herself as to Annie. “No. No, you don’t understand. This is a strange case, very interesting.”

Strange case of what?
This was crazy; the whole thing was crazy. She started to push back her chair to leave, but the next words Donna spoke stopped her.

“You lost your little baby. Your husband murdered it.” Donna looked straight into her eyes.

Annie’s earlier vision of the drowning had started with the baby already in the water, but Donna’s statement caused the scene to flash before her again.

Maggie sits in the canoe, her precious black-haired baby cuddled in her arms. The old man looms over them, his face turned away. In one swift move, he drops the paddle, snatches the baby in his right hand, and holds her back with his left. A scream rips from the depths of her soul, and she reaches for her child—scrabbles for him. Her terror robs her of speech yet the sounds sputtering from her lips are an unmistakable plea for mercy.

He turns, cold eyes glinting, to watch her face as he extends his arm over the water—and drops the tiny bundle. Maggie struggles against his grip, kicking and clawing at him. Shouting with triumph, he backhands her with his now hideously empty right hand. She crumples. He sits back, grabs the paddle, and begins his stroke.

Uttering a cry more feral than human, Maggie leaps into the river.

Eyes wide with the horror she’d witnessed, Annie covered her face with both hands. “You can’t know that. Are you reading my mind? I don’t need you to tell me what’s in my own mind. I don’t need you messing with my head!”

She jumped to her feet and staggered back from the table, thrashing her head from side to side as though the vehemence of her denial could shake the vision from her memory.

“Sometimes we need someone to make us realize what we already know,” Donna said calmly. “Sometimes that gives us the courage to face it ourselves.”

Annie froze for a moment, considering the woman’s words. Then, she stepped forward and collapsed into her chair with a sigh.

“Who was the man that drowned my baby?” she asked. “It wasn’t Jacob.”

“No,” Donna said. “Jacob was the baby’s father, but he wasn’t the man who murdered it.”

“Then who?”

“Your husband.”

Surprise silenced Annie for a moment. “Oh, God. I was married to
him
?” She tried to recall more evidence of that from the previous visions. Nothing. “But . . . even if that horrible man was my husband, that has nothing to do with
now
.”

“These visions have
everything
to do with now. Be open to this, Annie. Don’t keep blocking it. You’re letting your past confuse your judgment of the present. Let me tell you what I see around you.

“There are many people involved in what you are experiencing. It’s hard for me to see one without the shadow of another. I see a man, this Jacob you spoke of. He’s with a woman. Mattie? No . . . no, her name is Maggie. Jacob traveled . . . um . . . for some reason. He wasn’t always with Maggie. He loved her . . . he was a good man. He . . .um . . . lost? I don’t know . . . lost something. And there is another man here, much older, a
malevolent
man. Not a man?”