What the Heart Wants (5 page)

Something pulled at his memory. He focused so hard to remember that his head pounded in rhythm with his heart.

“You were just a kid when this happened. I remember the first time I heard you cry out. It was about three in the morning. I ran into your bedroom and found you sitting in the middle of your bed, crying. You kept repeating the same thing. ‘Where are you? Come back.’ I tried my best to comfort you, but it just made you angry.”

“Why would I get mad?”

A smile spread across her face as she chuckled. “You wanted to know where I hid your angel.”

Dylan came to an abrupt stop. He turned to face his mother, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“My angel?”

Please wake up…

The soft, feminine voice echoed through his mind as he watched her smile wane.

“Are you telling me that I was dreaming about an actual angel, you know, with wings and halo?” he asked, making a circular motion atop his head.

His mom burst into laughter. “Well, you never mentioned wings or a halo. All I know is that you were dreaming about a little girl. You were smitten with her; always talking about how beautiful she was with her dark curls and green—no, wait—golden, you said they were golden, eyes.”

Dylan’s chest vibrated from the swift pounding of his heart. The wet sand between his toes felt more like cement preventing him from moving his legs. As the air around him spun, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck swayed with it.

A faded image in the back of his mind swirled through the fog of memories. His mom was telling the truth. Vague pieces of memory danced near the surface, but not close enough for him to grasp. Why couldn’t he remember the dreams?

“Dylan, are you okay?”

Though she stood right beside him, he was barely aware of her hand gripping his shoulder. Her voice carried to him as though she were at the far end of a tunnel. If what she said about his dreams were true…

“I’ve gotta go, Mom.”

“Why, Dylan? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just need to get back to L.A.,” he began as he glanced at her and then down the beach. Off in the distance he noticed a woman packing some items into a beach bag. She looked as if she might be leaving. He couldn’t see her face, but her long, dark, wavy hair reminded him of the girl in his dreams.

Could it be…no…well, maybe.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, as he handed her his guitar and took off running across the sand.

“Dylan? What are you doing?” she called to him, but he didn’t have time to explain.

He had to get to this woman before she left and see if it was
her
. Maybe he did know the girl from his dreams. Since the woman was at the beach this early, it could be a sign that she lived close by. What if it was someone he’d gone to school with and just couldn’t recall?

The muscles in his legs burned and pinched, but he didn’t stop.

He reached the woman in a matter of seconds and was about to ask her name when she turned around to look at him. The moment their eyes met, his gut clenched.

It wasn’t his angel.

* * *

“Dylan, you’re really starting to worry me.”

He should never have told her anything; he regretted every word that had passed through his lips. Why did he think telling her his problems would pacify her? She was his mother. The worrier. Her wisdom was great but not worth the price of upsetting her.

“I already told you I’m fine. I’m tired, and I need to head out so I can get back to the house. I have a long list of crap to do before tonight.”

“Let me do a reading.”

“What? No!” he said, shocking himself at the callous tone in his voice. He loved his mother more than he loved anyone else in his life, but they didn’t see eye to eye on everything. Her practice of New Age beliefs was, for better words, peculiar. He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t necessarily believe in it.

His eyes fell over crystals of every shape and color spread across the room like a rainbow.

Amethysts, garnets, turquoise, citrine.

She owned many. They all had a purpose, though he’d never taken the time to learn their usefulness. He did know the stone she wore around her neck was a moonstone. It increased intuition.

He laughed to himself.

Like she needed any help with that.

“Why are you so opposed to a reading?” The edgy tone in his mother’s voice penetrated the chaos in Dylan’s mind. He didn’t remember the walk back to her house, only that she insisted she could help him with her gift.

“Because I don’t need a reading. I’m fine. All I need is some sleep. Give me a week to catch up on that and I will feel like a new man.”

He couldn’t really expect her to believe him when he didn’t believe the words coming from his mouth. The seam of his life continued to unravel like a spool of thread. If anyone held the key to unlocking the mysteries in his mind, she did.

He just didn’t know if he was ready to face the truth.

“I can’t force you to do it, but I think it will help. Please, let me try. What’s the harm?”

His eyes skimmed over a wooden box sitting on the shelf near her reading table. Carved inside the rosewood, a pattern of intricate vines and flowers caught his attention. The contents of the box seemed to whisper to him.

We hold the answers you seek.

The longer he stared at the box, the more anxious he grew.

It was official.

He was going nuts.

First dreams, now voices?

“Why after all these years are you so persistent that I get a reading? You never wanted to do one before.”

“You’ve never been this lost in life. The tarot is for guidance, Dylan. It shows the path your life is on. You can decide if you want to stay on course or change things.”

Dylan turned to face his mother. Her eyes, plagued with concern, narrowed. Even though she was twenty years his senior, he thought she hid her age well. But not today, not at this precise moment when he was scaring the crap out of her with his abnormal behavior.

He returned his attention to the box and said, “Okay, I will stay if you can make it quick.”

She didn’t speak but simply nodded her head before walking over to the table. Striking up a match, she lit a couple of white candles before sitting in her chair. She pointed to the seat across from her.

“Please sit.”

Dylan stared at the chair. Hesitantly, he eased into it, clearing his dry throat.

“What are the candles for?”

“White candles bring spiritual enlightenment to those who seek the truth,” she explained while opening the box of cards. After she put the box away, she handed the cards to Dylan.

“Shuffle the cards and think about what you want them to tell you. By doing this, you’re charging the cards with your energy. When you’re ready, hand them back to me.”

Reaching across the table, he wrapped his fingers, calloused from playing guitar, around the deck of cards. An electric charge crawled up his arm and spread through his body. Did something shock him? He wasn’t sure, didn’t really care at this point. All he wanted was to appease his mother and then go home.

Dylan thought about what he wanted to know most. Who was the beautiful girl in his dreams, why was he dreaming of her, and how long had she been appearing in his dreams? He thought about it repeatedly, then handed the cards back to his mother.

“I’m ready,” he told her.

“Then let’s begin. I’m going to do the Celtic Cross spread on you. This spread is more in-depth than a single card.”

His mom began to spread the cards out in front of him. Dylan watched closely as her eyes widened with each card she placed on the table. At one point, she glanced over at him with an arched brow as though she had discovered a deep, dark secret.

When all the cards were in proper position, it reminded him of a cross with a vertical line to his left. His mother pointed at the center card, underneath a card crossing it.

“This card represents the heart of the matter. It’s the reason why you are sitting before me; why you sought to have a reading. This is what is happening with you,” she explained, as his eyes fell to the eerie card. The picture showed a man lying on the ground with swords stuck into his back.

“This is the Ten of Swords.”

“What does that mean?” Dylan asked, as he gazed up at his mother. The look on her face made his stomach clench.

“The Ten of Swords represents pain and mental anguish.”

He snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

“But if you look further into the card, you will see that the dark sky is giving way to the golden sunrise. All that is bad will not remain bad. Think of it as the light at the end of a tunnel. The pain and suffering you’re going through is about to end.”

When his mother’s eyes met his, a sense of calmness filled him. At least, until he looked at the next card. This too was a card filled with swords. Instead of piercing the figure in this picture, they dangled above her head.

“If the anguish is going to end, then why does the next card look just as grim?”

Her eyes fell back to the cards. She placed her index finger on the one he mentioned.

“This represents influences or obstacles. It’s crossing you. The Nine of Swords often means anxiety, but it can also represent something troubling you or making you lose sleep. You mentioned your dreams when we were at the beach. That would coincide with the Nine of Swords.”

Dylan felt a chill run up his spine.

“The cards are honest,” he admitted.

His mother didn’t look at him. She was looking at the next card.

“This is the root of the cause. It’s causing the problem you’re facing.”

“What card is that?” he asked. It was a brighter card, with what looked like goblets of gold. Each goblet contained a white flower. There were two people on it, children, perhaps. One was handing a goblet to another.

“This is the Six of Cups, the card of the past. Something or someone from your past is causing the torment you’re facing.” She gazed up at him, again. “What’s troubling you, Dylan?”

“Lack of sleep,” he lied before gazing back at the cards.

“I only ask because this next card, The Moon, tells me that your subconscious is trying to tell you something. It is also a card of dreams and fantasies. If your dreams are bothering you to the point that you’re causing yourself mental anguish,” she paused as she pointed to the first card, “then you need to listen to what your dreams are telling you. If you don’t, you will continue to be stuck in limbo.”

“I don’t know what my dreams are trying to tell me. All I know is that I’m dreaming about…”

He didn’t finish. Golden eyes filled his mind once again.

“I think they are telling you that something bigger than you is at work here. Look at this card,” she insisted.

When Dylan gazed down, the card she pointed at had a woman kneeling beside a body of water. White stars seemed to fall from the sky while one larger, golden star crowned her head.

“This position in the spread shows a possible outcome. The Star card is about having faith and hope on our side. Think of it as divine intervention. Someone up there knows what is best for you, even if you don’t.”

“I wish they would let me in on the secret.”

Her lips pressed tightly as she nodded. “You must have faith and trust in yourself as well as this higher power. If you don’t, the thing you seek most could slip away. Without hope and faith, you cannot see the love of heaven.”

Dylan thought about his mom’s words. If he was receiving divine intervention, did that mean the angel in his dream was just helping him to find what his heart wanted most?

He wanted her.

But what if she really is an angel? How can she be helping me if the thing I want, I can’t have?

A crack of thunder shook the house. Dylan flinched at the sound, casting his eyes to the large bay window. The sky grew dark with gray clouds floating across the horizon, causing the room to darken as well. His skin crawled with pins and needles as he wondered if the storm was an omen.

He should not have agreed to this reading. Some truths were better left untold.

“Are you still with me?” she asked. Dylan cut his eyes toward his mother, who was now frowning. “Where did you just go?”

“Nowhere,” he answered. “Just taking in everything you’re telling me.”

“Then you’ll be interested in this next card,” she said, circling it with her finger. “This is your future card. What it reveals in this spot will happen within the next few weeks.”

Dylan studied the card, noting the white hand holding a golden goblet. Water poured from the cup in a waterfall pattern before pooling in a stream or some type of reservoir below it. He shifted in his seat as lightning lit up the room.

Another boom of thunder echoed off the walls.

He met his mother’s eyes, wondering if she could sense his uneasiness.

“Does the hand on this card represent God or something?”

“Not necessarily. The Ace of Cups has several meanings. One is the great seed of love and affection. It predicts new relationships on the horizon. If you are searching for love, this card is a positive sign.”

Every sound in the room faded.

No way…

“And if I’m not searching for love, what does it mean?” He wanted to believe in love, wanted to believe it could happen for him. But with all the bad experiences, he wondered if a relationship would be worth his time and energy.

“The Ace of Cups also has deep roots in intuition, but it still leads back to love. It could be romantic or platonic. Only you know the answer to that. You have to trust what your gut is telling you.”

My gut tells me I’m crazy for agreeing to this reading. The one woman I could imagine being with isn’t real.

“Are you ready for the next card?”

Dylan pushed his thoughts aside and sat up straight.

“No. I’m done. I can’t listen to any more of this. I’m sorry, Mom.”

The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially when he noticed her eyes. Disappointment lay in them like a child who didn’t get the toy he wanted for his birthday.