The Choice (34 page)

Marcie opened the door and hobbled down the hall to the main bathroom. Feeling gross and gritty, she climbed into the shower, allowing the hot spray to ease her aches, careful of the scabbed over scrapes and cuts. She scrubbed away what she could of the dried on blood and dirt from the crash. When Marcie returned to the guest room with her long, wet hair brushed back, her duffel bag rested in the middle of the already made bed.

Marcie dressed in tan capris wide enough at the leg to fit her cast through. A mocha T-shirt, a white sweater overtop and one sock and running shoe completed her ensemble.

It was slow going maneuvering the stairs while she listened to the chatter, distinct morning rattles of dishes, pots and pans and all manner of the breakfast things. No wonder no one heard her stagger awkwardly on her crutches into the kitchen. But maybe they did; Diane handed her a piece of toast, coated with thick strawberry jam, which she gobbled while being ushered out the door by Maggie, before she could say good morning to the kids and Maggie’s Mom, who was already tending the children.

Sam, Richard and Jesse waited outside. Everyone was dressed casually in blue jeans, T-shirts and windbreakers and piled into Maggie’s eight passenger SUV. But not before Sam lifted Marcie into his arms and carried her down the steps while she swallowed the last of her toast. Richard drove them straight to the Sequim marina.

Everything fell right into place. She didn’t know how Maggie and Diane managed to convince the men to go and see Sally. What she expected was absolute refusal from the men saying they wouldn’t even consider wasting their time on some voodoo nutcase. Marcie expected to be going alone or at the very least just with Sam.

Richard owned a cabin cruiser he kept docked at the Sequim Marina. Marcie sat up top. Sam faced her. She could see the hurt in his eyes each time he glanced her way, adding to the mass of confusion clouding her powerful feelings for him. She allowed Sam to help her out of the boat once it docked. He passed her the crutches and followed behind. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to accept more right now. She hobbled up the pier to her parked Toyota. Everyone slowed to a snail’s pace so Marcie wasn’t left in the dust.

“Okay, so which way to this guy who’s got the information on Dan?”

Marcie froze, gripped her crutches and whirled around to look first at Maggie and then Diane. Neither would meet her gaze as Sam, who was now breathing down Marcie’s neck, waited for someone to reply. She blinked, realizing that while she wallowed in angst over the barrier between her and Sam, not once had anyone mentioned Sally.

“I’d still like to know where you found out about this guy who has all this inside information. Was it a phone call you got last night when we were out?” Richard questioned both Maggie and Diane and then frowned when he looked down at Marcie. And she knew darn well her panicky eyes had to be big as a tea crumpets saucer.

Marcie stuttered. “It’s my idea. I told Diane and Maggie last night it’s time to go back to my teacher. She’s a friend of my granny’s and a prolific, gifted reader who was teaching me the path to enlightenment when Dan snared me with his charms. Before I got on the plane to New Orleans, she begged me not to go, to come home, so she could finish teaching me. She knew what I was doing, and she knows what Dan is. Jerome’s come to me several times in my dreams, and he’s told me to go back to Sally. And you know what? None of us knows what Dan’s going to do next. If he needs all the marijuana, he’s going to try something, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to be prepared so he doesn’t catch me off guard again. He’s unpredictable. He’s threatened you, Sam. You too, Richard. He’s dragged Maggie into my mess. And you both know with his connection to Lance Silver, he has power behind him. And don’t forget, Richard, what you said last night. If he really is like Charles Manson, we need to expect the unexpected, and Sally can help.” Marcie knew she rambled.

That did it. Sam flung his hands in the air while Richard pinned Maggie with his famous you’ve-wasted-my-time look. Jesse crossed his arms, smiling smugly. The light danced in his eyes, as if he alone understood what she was trying to do.

“Great, that’s just great. How long’s it going to take us to get back? We just wasted over an hour to get here, when we could have been formulating a concrete plan to establish some solid, credible evidence against Dan and his connection to Lance Silver.” Sam smacked the back of his hand into the palm of his other hand and then jabbed his finger at Marcie. “This voodoo bullshit, I got all the time with Mama, and I’m done with it. Listen up, Marcie. A dead guy comes to you in your dreams, telling you to go back to your teacher and you listen?” Sam walked away, down the dirt hill, back to the dock. He must have realized no one followed when he stopped halfway down. Marcie continued to the truck. She pulled open the back door at the same time as Diane and Maggie did on the other side of her clunky SUV.

“Whoa, wait a second. We’re going back. Stop. We’re not getting in the truck. Jesse,  Richard, help me out here.”

Marcie slid her crutches onto the floor and dangled her injured ankle out the door. “Sam, were here. So if you feel it’s a waste of time, you go back. I’m going to see Sally. I need help, and she can provide answers, whether you believe it or not.” She lifted her leg in and closed the door, grinning at the heat of his hurried return.

Marcie cranked down the window, to air out the stuffy vehicle.

Sam leaned in, shaking his head, a man resigned to his fate. “We’re staying one hour, that’s it.” Indignant, Sam climbed in on the driver’s side.

Marcie leaned forward, patted his shoulder and smiled brightly. “It’s going to be a little crowded.”

Packed like a can of sardines Jesse pulled his door closed, after he and Diane crammed in the backseat with Marcie.

Marcie gave hurried directions to Sally’s place. One hundred acres of preserved forest, meadows and green-space, off a quiet cove by the state park, located at the far end of the island. She coveted her privacy and isolation. People on the island respected her for it.

“I hope she’s there.” Maggie was perched on Richard’s lap, in the front. Her large dark eyes glanced at her husband.

“She’ll be there, even though we’re landing in on her with no warning.” Marcie felt confidence pour through her.

“Well, of course she’ll be there; she’s a psychic. She should know we’re coming. And didn’t you say Jerome told you it was time to see her?” Sam’s sarcastic remark earned him a flick to the back of his ear from Marcie.

“Don’t be a smartass. Oh, there’s the driveway on the right.” She gripped the back of his seat, pointing a finger past his face.

“You mean the trail that’s not passable? That’s not a driveway.”

“Come on, Sam, just drive in. It’s fine.”

The ruts jolted the SUV, and bushes scraped both sides of the vehicle, but Sam steered down the narrow trail, which seemed as if no vehicles had ever passed through. It opened into a beautiful grassy clearing full of fruit trees, mature gardens, a pond and several outbuildings. And right in the center of this lush property was a large, square fenced garden, filled with vivacious pinks, purples, reds, yellows and whites. Spectacular flowers, fall perennials and wild flowers danced in the sunlight. A short, compact woman stood in the middle of it, wearing a straw hat, watching them approach.

Marcie opened the back door when Sam parked in front of the light brown cottage. Before she could step down, Sam appeared at her door, lifting her out and gently lowered her beside him. She looked up. Her heart pounded when panic licked away her confidence, leaving her feeling shy and awkward. She swallowed hard. “Thanks Sam, crutches please.” Tension still lingered between them, except each show of kindness dissipated her hurt a little more. And he was still here. Maybe he was more intuitive than he let on.

Gently he touched her cheek. “We still need to have a talk, just you and me.”

She froze when she saw something past all the hurt she coveted. He suffered too, and that brought a wave of alarm that choked the inside of her throat.

“Marcie girl, is that you?”

She placed the flat of her hand on his chest, feeling the rapid patter of his heart, right before she hobbled around him, toward the warm, gray haired woman, who approached like a fairy godmother with wings.

“Sally, I’m so sorry to barge in.” She felt a momentary guilt for intruding as she extended the flat of her hand out to Richard, Maggie, Jesse and Diane, who came around the front of her old, rusty vehicle. Sam flanked her. “These are my friends: Sam, Richard, Maggie, Jesse and Diane.” Marcie dropped her eyes to the ground before sucking up her courage to face the one person she’d truly let down. “You were right, Sally. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to know.” Marcie’s chin wobbled.

Sally was a small, plump woman. Her straw hat brushed Marcie’s chin when she hugged her. How long had it been since she’d seen Sally? She hadn’t changed. The same lines on her face seemed to draw you into a storybook life filled with wisdom and experience, one who followed the guidance of Spirit, never questioning what she was told.

Marcie blinked back the tears. “So much has happened. I need your help.”

Sally rested her hand on Marcie’s shoulder. “I can see that. You were snared good. And it hurt to peel you out of that web of conflicted confusion. You made some wrong choices, and you’re all banged up. Well, come on in. I’ll put on some tea, and we’ll get started. See what we can do to fix this mess.”

Richard and Sam faced each other, raising their eyebrows obviously puzzled but to their credit said nothing. Marcie responded to them by rolling her eyes. Jesse popped on his dark shades and leaned against the hood of the truck.

Everyone followed as Sally marched, head high, to a large cedar deck at the back of the cottage with a lattice trellis on one side, draping a mature wisteria over the center of the deck. Pink and white roses in full bloom extended down the other side with fresh mulch piled around each of the beauties. And to complete this paradise, flower baskets hung from tall metal posts, mounted in the four corners of the spacious deck. The fragrance alone was one step from heaven. Well, it should, except Marcie couldn’t shake the building anxiety and knots clumping in her stomach. With worries and what ifs dogging her over what answers Sally would provide. Sometimes it wasn’t what you expected. Then what would she do?

Sam and Richard appeared bored while they claimed old wooden chairs around the square patio table. Sally slid open the screen door and went in the house. Marcie listened to Sally rummage inside, the whistle of the kettle, clangs and rattles, as she prepared for her guests.

“She’s going to be more help than you think.”

Richard cleared his throat roughly.

The wood deck creaked when Sally approached. Her wrinkled round face was void of any emotion. “I’ve heard it all dear. You may as well just say, ‘be quiet the witch is coming’.”

“Sorry Sally, we’re a little on edge. I appreciate you allowing us to barge in.” Marcie felt as if something changed between them. Her teacher, who took her under her wing to help her develop her ability to channel and hear Spirit, to help her rise up to a higher vibration and shake off all darkness still lingering in her aura—now Marcie felt there existed an uneasy separation.

Sally smiled distantly and then put down the tray with stacked cups and a pot of tea and reached across the table, patting Marcie’s fisted hand. “Relax. Breathe. And give yourself some credit. You’ve overcome a huge obstacle just ripping those blinders off and seeing that man for who he really is. Now, everyone, help yourself to tea.” She nudged the tray to the center of the table.

Sally pulled out a stool directly across from Marcie. Everyone scooted chairs closer while Sally lit a white candle, pulled a cloth bundle from her pocket and unwrapped tarot cards from a paisley silk scarf. Sally passed Marcie the deck of cards. “Shuffle and cut. You know how, but this time, left hand three piles away from you and then re-stack with the last cut on top. Ask your question.”

She followed Sally’s instructions and handed the deck back.

“Which is top?”

Marcie touched the deck and then watched as Sally lay out three cards directly in front of her. the Fool reversed, the Tower and the eight of Pentacles.

“Oh dear, it’s worse than I thought. Well let’s just dive in, and then we’ll figure out what we can fix from this mess.” Marcie leaned forward in anticipation and glanced at Sam, Maggie, Richard, Jesse and Diane. Everyone remained quiet. Richard looked at his watch and sighed and then shrugged when Maggie smacked his shoulder.

“You seem to think you have more important things to do, like chasing your tail in a circle instead of getting a clear read from Spirit as to where you all stand. This may be Marcie’s reading, but you’re all part of this, by choice or not.” Sally never looked up as she spoke. Her tone was clipped, and wisely, Richard didn’t respond. He crossed his arms and appeared to mope.

“Young man, if you really want to have a good look at me, take off those shades. It’s dim back here. I’ve been around skeptics my entire life; just be respectful.” She jabbed a bony finger at Jesse.

Jesse yanked off his shades and popped them in his jacket pocket. “Meant no disrespect Ma’am, just curious is all to meet someone of your talent.”

“Hmm.” Was all Sally muttered as she continued to study the colorful, worn cards.

“This is you, my dear.” She tapped the fool pictured above the cliff with her index finger and connected her light golden eyes direct with Marcie. “This is about choices, not seeing what’s before you but walking blindly without care for the consequences. Your eyes are tiny and cannot see the pitfalls right in front of you. It’s been a carefree go for you with no established roots. Do you see the knapsack tossed carelessly over the shoulder? It’s not even held with any conviction. There’s no firm grasp. Others followed your light; see? At the heels. You’ve led innocents along with you, believing no harm would come. Your eroded foundation has blocked your light. See the cliff reversed? It’s above you. The solid rocks, the icy blue, has clouded your sight. The light is below you. You can’t see because of the choice you made to follow blindly. Even the feather in your cap, the red is about power and volatile passion. The shirt looks like coins, pentacles, spokes of a wheel, but it’s false, not right or true. Easy money. For you, it wasn’t about the money; for him, it was.”