The Choice (33 page)

Diane cleared her throat. “We’ve been tracking a boat coming up from South America which we suspect is carrying cocaine. We also know the boat’s owned by Dan’s brother, Greg McKenzie.” If everyone was shocked by Marcie’s revelation, it had nothing on Diane’s little secret.

“Diane, how long have you known about this? And why didn’t you tell me?” Sam wiped his hand over his unshaven face.

“We found out the day you left to go back to New Orleans.” Diane gestured defensively with both hands.

“So who’s monitoring it?” Sam asked.

“DEA, Coast Guard, Interpol, it’s a joint effort. We suspect there’s also going to be some trade of high grade marijuana. And that’s where Marcie and Maggie come in.”

Marcie glanced at Maggie. Her mouth hung open. Obviously, she too realized they were pawns in a bigger plan.

“So let me get this straight, what I grew and cut, and Maggie delivered to Sandra, is going toward this deal?” She spoke directly to Diane.

“It sure looks that way, Marcie.”

“Diane, who’s pulling the strings behind this deal?” Jesse leaned against the brick wall beside the wood stove.

“Lance Silver.”

Maggie, Diane and Marcie stayed behind, while Sam, Jesse and Richard went to the Island Seekers bar, a quiet pub overlooking the ocean in downtown Gardiner. Richard would meet Dan for a beer, and Jesse and Sam would linger in a dark corner out of sight to watch.

Maggie paced the open kitchen. She fed another log into the wood stove and closed the damper. She pulled out the mop and washed the creamy golden tiled floor filled with green diamonds until it gleamed. Marcie brooded in silence watching the battery operated wall clock tick by at a snail’s pace. It was after eleven and the men had been gone for nearly two hours. And Maggie, now ass deep in the refrigerator, was pulling out food, spraying down the shelves and giving them a good scrub.

Diane retreated to the living room. Marcie could hear her rustling in her briefcase, the one she’d retrieved from home, along with Marcie’s own duffle bag, after the men left for the bar.

Marcie scraped back her chair and grabbed a single crutch, hobbling into the bright, open beam living room. It featured a twenty-foot ceiling and a spindled fir stairwell that led up to the second floor where four bedrooms overlooked this spacious room. The leather living room furniture surrounded a river rock fireplace. And there sat Marcie’s duffle bag, dumped on a rich mahogany loveseat. She unzipped the side pocket and pulled out her silk-wrapped tarot cards.

With her sock feet resting on the square coffee table, Diane peered over her open file. Her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. “What’s that?”

“My tarot cards; I play with tarot cards. There I said it.” Marcie waved the bundle. Maybe because she was so tired, drugged, battered and bruised, she didn’t care to hide it.

Diane closed her file and slid off the leather sofa, dumping her glasses on the coffee table.

Marcie hobbled back to the kitchen with Diane dogging her heels.

“Wow, Marcie, pretty cool.”

Marcie stopped and really looked at Diane and then continued back to her chair, placing her cards in front of her and resting her crutch against the wall. Diane pulled out a chair, sat down and tucked in closer to Marcie.

“These were my granny’s cards.” Marcie shuffled, which brought Maggie’s head out of the fridge.

“I didn’t know you read tarot cards.” Maggie stood up, a spray bottle and sponge dangling from her hands.

“I guess it’s not something I share with anyone. I pick up on people’s feelings. Even see things in my dreams sometimes. My granny taught me how to stay close to nature and ground myself in the natural world. The tarot’s a tool I use for clarity to help when I’m seeking answers. As you know, our path’s not set, but if we can see what obstacle lies before us, we know what we need to do to overcome and change that path.” Marcie continued to shuffle as Maggie tossed all the food back in the fridge and then pulled out a chair.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Diane clasped her hands on the table in front of her.

“No, go ahead.”

“If you can see all this and have the answers, why did you get involved with Dan?”

She stopped shuffling and met the honest curiosity in Diane’s big eyes. The words should have hurt, but there was no cruel intent meant in her query.

“I was so in love with Dan. The signs were all around me, but I chose not to see. When he cornered me at Granny’s yesterday I realized then my obsession with him was partly his doing. He’s a wizard. He found my weakness, my pain, and he used it to make me want him. This is nothing but a game to him. He’s dangerous.

She shuffled the worn, crinkled cards one last time. “In New Orleans I met the most amazing woman, Mama Reine, surrogate mother to Sam. She smacked me upside the back of my head with the words of my deeds. Something my granny would have done if she was alive.”

Diane and Maggie scooted their chairs closer.

“Oh this sounds interesting. Mama Reine, tell me about her.” Maggie said.

Marcie thumped the cards once with the knuckles of her right hand and then held them to her chest. She looked at Diane and then Maggie, considering how much she should say. “She’s a witch in Terrebonne Parish who reminds me of Granny. Mama Reine helped me see again, right after I got my memory back. You know those who practice magic must be completely honest in all aspects of their personal life. You use energy to strengthen the power within you, not to use over someone else. What I took for granted, and forgot, was a very simple rule taught to me. When I practice my gift, and no matter what anyone says, this is a gift from God. The spiritual laws are clear. Don’t ever abuse your gift. And never is it to be used for personal gain to harm another. It’s what I did when I helped Dan. I refused to see all the roadblocks right in front of me, the cycle of abuse. I chose to be a victim by allowing him to treat me so abominably.”

Marcie picked up the cards and shut her eyes, visualizing herself grounded to the earth.
Please dear God, bring in your angels and spirit guides to protect me. Surround me in a circle of white light. And please provide me with really clear answers for this mess with Dan and how to get out of it.
Marcie opened her eyes to two women who were studying her so closely she felt like a frog in a petri dish they’d just dissected. Marcie cut the deck, put it back together and laid out three cards in front of her: the Knight of Pentacles, the Lovers and Judgment. “Well this is interesting. Pentacles are earth, material possession. The knight brings the message. Presenting an offer, this man’s already here. He’s hard working and takes care of details in pursuit of a goal. This is Sam. Stands firm from opposition, will not quit and is true to his personal convictions. And the Lovers are a physical addiction, a man and a woman, similar to the story of Adam and Eve in the garden fighting to resist temptation; a choice between right and wrong. Needing to find out what you care about and facing that ethical or moral choice. Which one will you decide? And Judgment, this is a good card in a way. The archangel above, all the dead rising up from their coffins, held accountable for their actions. Judgment day’s coming. And burdens will be lifted and released, for those who take a stand in the right. A transformation, a day of reckoning, being cleansed, refreshed. What it's saying is I need to learn this lesson, so it’s not repeated. Have I released my past mistakes? I need to so they’ll be behind me, and I’ll be ready to start new.”

“So what does all this mean?” Diane whispered.

Marcie laid her hands over the cards. “Past, present and future gave me a glimpse into me, except I’m not seeing the whole picture. I’m rusty, and I know there’s more. I’ve always had trouble reading me, but  sometimes there are instances where we’re not supposed to know.”

“Now I’m confused. What does that mean?”

Marcie leaned back and winced, before looking thoughtfully at Diane. Her leg throbbed. “I need to go back to my teacher. It’s time. Because what I suspect is at play, and what I can’t see, is beyond time and ours. It’s had history and generations to build. First thing in the morning, we need to go back to Las Seta and see my teacher, Sally Wilcox. She’s waiting for me to return.”

Maggie arched her dark shapely brows, jerking her head a few inches forward as if a rope had just yanked her. “She’s a witch.”

“The whole night was a waste of time.” Richard tossed his keys on the long kitchen counter, where they slid under a stack of bills. His hard mouth set in a firm line as he opened the light oak cabinet by the sink, reached for a glass and filled it with water, guzzling it down. “Dan knew something was up, you know how cagey he is. He wouldn’t sit still, kept looking around the dark pub. Said his vibes were at a peak and he’s positive someone’s watching him. And there’s no way he saw Sam and Jesse. I couldn’t see them.” Richard toyed with the glass, stared out the kitchen window into the black night and then let out a heavy sigh before setting it in the sink and turning around.

Now after midnight, Marcie struggled to keep her weighted eyelids open. Her head bobbed and every part of her ached. She wanted nothing more than to go to bed.

“He even had the nerve to apologize for involving Maggie. But you know Dan and his remarkable way of shifting blame. He said and I quote, ‘I was in a bind, and I panicked. You have every right to be angry.’” Richard pivoted and jabbed his finger at Marcie. “Also, he made sure to blame you, Marcie. He said you didn’t finish what you were supposed to, bad girl.” Richard sarcastically waggled his index finger.

Jesse and Sam leaned up against the wall. They looked so tired compared to Richard, obviously their adrenaline was not as pumped.

“Richard, what about the auction he sent you to? We know he wanted you out of the way, but did he offer any explanation?” Diane cleared her throat and flicked her hands through her messy hair.

“Let me tell you something about Dan, he always has an answer. Not much trips him up. And unless you’re trained to read body language, you wouldn’t know he’s lying. I guess I didn’t see it before. Now I honestly believe he doesn’t know how to tell the truth. He said he must have screwed up his facts. He was positive the guy at Commercial Irrigation said the auction featured a bankrupt contractor’s tools. Even the message he left about the investor I was to meet, he said the guy’s not returning his calls, apparently Dan’s been hounding him, leaving messages as to why he didn’t show.”

“This guy sounds like a sociopath. Except, I’ve never heard of a man using women to do his dirty work to protect him because he’s too scared. Really, this is a new twist.” Diane appeared fascinated.

“Don’t get too enchanted Diane. Ever hear of a guy named Charles Manson? That’s exactly how Dan sucks the women in.”

Diane’s lips thinned and her cheeks heated. “I’m not stupid, Richard. And if this guy’s anything like Manson, he’s fucking dangerous. I’m trying to get into his head, so I know how he ticks. And that helps us catch him.”

Marcie broke the standoff. “Would you two stop bickering I’d like to hear it all and no Diane, you’re not stupid, but I was. Now if, it’s all the same to you, move on. I’m tired, and my leg hurts. Sam, Jesse, what did you pick-up from where you sat?”

Sam didn’t move from his spot by the door where he leaned against the wall. He watched her with such tender caring her heart fluttered and had to remind herself to breathe. “Marcie, you’re tired. You look as if you’re going to keel over.”

“I am tired, Sam, but I’d like to hear everything.”

“There’s nothing else, Marcie. Dan’s cell phone rang, and he left.” Richard stood behind Maggie, resting his hands on her shoulders.

“Marcie, you need to go to bed. Let’s figure out where we go with this in the morning.” Jesse leaned against the counter. His dark eyes appeared unusually brooding.

Maggie yawned and reached for her husband’s hand. “You know what, we’re all tired. Everyone stays here tonight. We have enough room, and then we can start tomorrow with clearer heads. Sam, help Marcie upstairs to the guest room. I’ll leave some blankets on the sofa for you, Jesse. Sam, if you want to sleep on the second sofa in the living room, you’re welcome to. Diane, I’ll get you settled on the pullout in the den.”

Maggie was subtle. The choice was theirs to stay together or not. Chairs scraped, and goodnights were issued. Then Sam appeared at her side, scooping Marcie out of the chair, his strong arm encircling her waist, and he all but carried her upstairs to bed.

Sam left the door open when he set her on the edge of the bed. He backed up a few steps. Marcie wanted to clear her throat as it seemed smothered with something thick and warm. She must have stared like a fool. Time slowed, and Sam didn’t move. She ordered herself to take a breath and then another. To be reasonable and clear in what she wanted. She needed Sam, but she realized as he lowered his head and looked away, it wouldn’t be tonight.

“Goodnight Marcie.” And that was all he said before he left and pulled the door closed behind him.

Marcie’s leg ached fiercely when she woke in the guest room late the next morning. The first thing she saw was the ceramic cross with cherubs and angels mounted on the warm peach wall, overtop of the white six drawer dresser. She ran her hand over the fluffy pillow beside her, and let out a groan from the twinge in her shoulder and the persistent ache that climbed up her leg. She had to pee, or she’d probably have laid there and wallowed in discomfort. Left with no choice, she tossed back the golden floral duvet and scooted like an old woman out of bed, still wearing Maggie’s sweats.