Spirit Talk: (Book One of The Fiona Series) Read online

  Henry is ridiculously cute. He’s looks like a really tall Luke Skywalker with a little Han Solo around the eyes and jaw. He’s nice, but it appears that he’s having trouble coping. The house was pretty messy. When Grandma and I babysat, I made Dad’s chicken paprikash and Henry liked it a lot! He says he has a friend with horses and he’s going to arrange for me to ride when the weather permits, but he hasn’t yet. He probably never will because he always looks like he’s just barely hanging on. He’s got it real rough.

  I sleep in Mom’s old bedroom. Grandma kept it exactly how Mom left it. Grandma hasn’t gotten rid of anything. Some of Mom’s old clothes are still in the closet! I’ve been wearing one of her winter coats and there was an ancient, petrified pack of gum in the pocket. I wish I could tell you that I found something scandalous like cigarettes or a flask, but it was just gum.

  Mom’s bedroom is the nicer of the two bedrooms here, but Grandma never moved into Mom’s room, even after all these years. It has a great view of Main Street and gets lots of light. Grandma’s bedroom is dark. Weird, huh? There are pictures of Mom as a teenager all over the room - she’s always with the same group of girls. Do you think she broke off with all her friends when she married Dad? How depressing. She never seemed to be in touch with old friends and she certainly never went to a high school reunion.

  Oh, by the way, it turns out Mom knows how to sew! Can you believe it? She never let on, even when we were struggling with patterns. Apparently, she used to help Grandma sew dresses for other girls in Fireside, but she hated doing it. I guess she had to help make dresses for the rich girls in town which must have been awkward.

  Let me know what’s going on at home. When you call, I can’t talk about all this stuff because Grandma Mary is usually sitting, like, ten feet away from me.

  Miss you!

  Love-

  Fee Fi Fo Fum

  Chapter 14

  On Sunday afternoons, Fiona practiced on Ginny. They’d sit over tea at the kitchen table and Fiona would loosely copy the “script” Mary used, then turn up past, present, and future cards for Ginny. Fiona would repeat her grandmother’s instructions to shuffle while thinking of a question, then cut the deck once, then twice, to the left. After she got familiar with the meanings, Fiona worked on melding them and altering their interpretations depending on whether the card showed up in the past, present, or future position. A card could mean something different as a “present” card than it did as a “past” or “future” card. The combinations seemed endless. The Ace of Clubs could be a new job or a flower garden. The Jack of Diamonds could be a trustworthy employee or a good student. The Four of Hearts could be a comfortable home or a satisfying lover. The Ten of Clubs could indicate social popularity or pressure at work.

  When Fiona practiced on herself, she kept getting the King of Clubs in her future. Henry, she always thought, sportsman, family man, strong and sexual, makes things happen.

  Ginny was a good sport and sat patiently while Fiona told her future over and over, sometimes four or five times in a row. “Fiona,” Ginny would laugh, “how many futures do I have?” Ginny, whose nails were always immaculately polished in bright colors, would then insist on giving Fiona a manicure after the readings were over. Ginny did it right at the kitchen table instead of down in her shop, and Mary would run out of the room. She hated the smell of acetone and polish. Fiona watched, fascinated, as Ginny pushed her cuticles back with a metal instrument, then trimmed the excess skin with small nippers.

  Fiona was delighted with her new, pretty nails. “I never got manicures before, but now I want to always have one!” Fiona would say as she admired the finished product. She wasn’t sure which she loved more: a bright, pink, shiny nail or an elegant French nail with a thin white stripe. Either way, she was growing to love Ginny, who had a big, warm heart and a fun personality. Ginny was a good sidekick for Fiona’s more serious grandmother.

  Fiona slowly began to see more and clearer images in her head when she was concentrating. At first, she didn’t pay attention because she was so focused on the cards and her notebook. Then she realized that she might be “seeing” important things like her grandmother could. When Fiona described the odd, seemingly random flashes to Mary, Mary explained that the cards were also a tool for focusing one’s intuition. She instructed Fiona to remember to include any images that came forward in the client’s reading.

  “For example,” Mary explained, “if you see a window with a cat on the sill as you’re laying out the cards, work it into the reading. For the next card, say something like ‘The Seven of Hearts is about a secret dream, but I’m also seeing a white cat sitting in a window.’ If the client responds to the cat in the window, pursue it. If not, keep going.”

  Fiona nodded. She knew exactly what her grandmother meant. All her life, she’d seen things and people when she closed her eyes but had never paid them much attention. They were like explosions of imagination in her brain and she had watched the little movies as if they were entertainment or ignored them as visual white noise. Faces would loom up before her. Sometimes she would see city streets and sometimes she’d see an expanse of countryside. Sometimes her brain would zoom in on a tiny detail, such red paint flaking off an old fence, and sometimes her perspective would shift to that of a someone flying high in the sky. The scenes, she now realized, might not be her imagination; they might be glimpses into the heads of the people around her, dead or alive.

  *****

  On a cloudy Thursday when the mailwoman cheerfully deposited a stack of mail on the counter of Mary's Sewing Bee, Fiona’s heart gave a flutter. Ann’s handwriting was on the top envelope. The handwriting was so familiar. Fiona was alone in the shop; her grandmother was upstairs having a “lie in” and all the lady crafters were gone, their empty cardboard coffee cups the only evidence they’d been there at all. Fiona wanted to tear open the envelope, but she gently sliced the paper with her grandmother’s old-fashioned letter-opener and began to read:

  Dear Fee Fi Fo Fum-

  Your letter blew me away. The idea that Mom was practically engaged to someone and we’ve never heard her mention his name is so weird. It’s funny - we always thought Dad was the “lively” parent and Mom was the placid one, but that’s not the case. Mom was just the quiet one! I’m also shocked that Mom’s known how to sew all these years yet acted like she never learned.

  I guess, if Mom hates sewing, it was the right move, though. We would have gone running to her every time we had trouble with a zipper or making a buttonhole.

  It’s so sad to think of Mom “running away” from Fireside and maybe feeling like she couldn’t go back and face people. Maybe it wasn’t totally Dad who kept Mom and Grandma Mary apart? Maybe it was Mom, too. Now that I think about it, Mom seemed almost skittish the two times we did go visit Grandma Mary. She must have been dreading running into this Kevin Moran! Tell me more about what he looks like.

  The stuff about Grandma is wild! I always assumed she was a corny fortune teller making up stories about “tall, dark, and handsome” men for lonely women. It never occurred to me that she was a genuine psychic. How much does she charge? I hope she doesn’t give it away. Psychics in the city make a fortune. My friend Valerie sees a psychic who charges $75 an hour! I suppose that wouldn’t be possible in Fireside, but still, I hope Grandma charges enough.

  Rick and I definitely want to visit. He's just got to get coverage for his lessons or reschedule them. His useless brothers should be able to help, but they get nervous when they have to interact with humans instead of horses. Maybe we could come when I’m on break from tutoring over Christmas, or maybe over spring break.

  The insurance company finally gave Mom a settlement check, so she’s looking for a two-bedroom to rent. She says she never wants to own again, and I don’t blame her after what happened. Some families are rebuilding their houses, although a lot have either moved further towards town and away from Lake Quinn or out of town altogether. It’s totally depressing to drive
by our old neighborhood.

  Mom’s been acting different lately. She joined a book club with her friend Kathy from work and she’s really getting into it. I think Mom wants to move into her own apartment quickly because she’s dying to host a book club meeting.

  We miss you so much. Nula looks at your picture every day and says, “Yona!” She still can’t say “Fee.”

  Mom has started going to dinner and a movie with her book club friends on Saturday nights. It’s weird lying in bed and looking at the clock and worrying because Mom’s not home yet. I guess it’s payback for what we put her through when we were in high school.

  I’m glad Mom’s not sitting home and feeling depressed about Dad, but it’s odd to see her “socially active.” She and Dad hardly ever went out and it never occurred to me that Mom might want to go out more often. I was hoping she’d babysit last weekend for Nula so Rick and I could get away overnight - just up to Lake Geneva - but Mom already had tickets to Shakespeare Rep downtown! She chose “Macbeth” over babysitting for Nula (ha ha ha.)

  Mom’s still babysitting for Nula on Wednesdays, though, so I can tutor. I’d go crazy if I didn’t get out of the house on Wednesdays and I hate asking Rick’s mom. She’s always such a martyr when I ask her to babysit her ONLY GRANDCHILD.

  That’s such a sad story about the little boy who lost his mom and the dad losing his wife. I felt sick when I read that part of your letter. If the dad looks like Luke Skywalker, though, he won’t have to be alone forever.

  I’ve been trying to imagine what it would be like for Rick if something (God forbid!) happened to me. I know Rick is a great dad, but I really can’t imagine him doing everything by himself. I suppose Julie would swoop in and be glad to get Rick and Nula all to herself. I should be careful around Julie and never go up into the hay loft with her. If I’m ever killed in a freak accident, tell the police I was afraid of my mother-in-law. Ha ha ha. Yikes.

  Speaking of Rick's family, I tried to fix up Jay with Karen, one of the other tutors at Maple Elementary. She’s a real nice woman but super quiet, so I thought maybe she and Jay would hit it off since they’re both shy. Well, I guess Jay was so shy that he said almost nothing during the date. Then - you won’t believe this part – Jay actually called Julie from a pay phone as they were leaving the restaurant. He wanted to tell her that he was going to take Karen home and he’d be home after that. Can you believe it? A twenty-five-year-old calling his mom from a date?

  I felt so bad for Karen when she told me, but she actually thought it was funny. At least Jay was a gentleman and walked Karen to her door and stuff, but still. I haven’t heard if Jay called Karen for another date yet. If this one doesn’t work out, I swear to God I’ll never fix up Rick’s brothers with any of my friends ever again.

  Rick says Queenie misses you, too. I’m not sure how Queenie lets Rick know - maybe she kicks her bucket of oats. I would pretend that I’ll give her a kiss for you, but you know I won’t.

  The crochet dress pattern you sent is so sweet! I’ve already made it in lavender and gray for Nula. It was fun to make - not too hard and not too easy.

  I miss you! Write back soon.

  Love,

  Anny Fanny With a Bananny

  P.S. Do NOT let Grandma’s friend cut your hair! Remember how it stuck up everywhere when you had it short?

  Chapter 15

  One Friday night in mid-November, Fiona gave her first solo reading. Grandma Mary had been ill the whole day and her coughing left her weak and shaky. Fiona pleaded with her grandmother to go to the doctor; as usual, Mary refused, saying she just needed “a cup of tea and a nap.” By four p.m., though, she told Fiona that she wasn’t able to give her scheduled client a reading that night. Alarmed, Fiona followed her grandmother to the phone. She’d never seen her grandmother cancel a client.

  Mary called the client, a woman named Sophia whom Nicole had referred, and offered to reschedule or have Sophia meet with Fiona instead. Sophia replied that she was happy to see Fiona, having heard about her from Nicole. When Mary hung up the phone, she raised her eyes to Fiona’s face and said, “You’re on.” Fiona felt like butterflies were spinning through her stomach, fluttering and multiplying. She wasn’t sure, either, if it was terror or excitement.

  Fiona was very nervous in the hour preceding Sophia’s arrival. She sat alone in her grandmother’s spot on the couch, having seen Mary off to bed. Earlier, they’d eaten Fiona’s homemade chicken soup and Mary had actually managed to finish a bowl between coughing fits.

  Mary gave Fiona last-minute tips during dinner, reminding her that what mattered most during a reading was that the client felt his or her questions were important. She also stressed that all messages and predictions had to be delivered with kindness and sensitivity.

  Simplifying the goal of the reading boosted Fiona’s confidence. Mary’s requirements were things Fiona knew she could accomplish. “If you forget what a card means, just wing it,” Mary reminded her. “Don’t hesitate or look in your notebook. Remember that the client won’t know if you’ve drawn a blank. And a good way to buy time is to say, ‘Oh, this is such an interesting card.’”

  As soon as Fiona saw Sophia through the glass of Mary’s Sewing Bee, though, she relaxed even more. Sophia had a smiling, benevolent face surrounded by a cloud of curly brown hair. As they made their way upstairs and settled onto the couch, Sophia’s excitement at the prospect of a reading was infectious. Fiona felt charged and confident.

  She assumed that Sophia would ask about love and romance, but Sophia cheerfully relayed that she was happily married to a “dreamboat of a man.” Sophia’s question was about her cousin, Suzanne, and where she had disappeared to.

  The cousin had taken a job in Seattle as a nanny and promised to get in touch with Sophia and other family members when she got settled and had a new phone number. Suzanne still had not been in touch, and weeks had gone by. Neither Sophia nor Suzanne’s mother had any information about the family Suzanne was supposedly working for, not even a name.

  Sophia shuffled the cards then cut the deck into three piles. The top card in the first pile was the Four of Hearts, reflecting Sophia’s happy home life. In the second pile was the Ten of Hearts, further underscoring Sophia’s satisfying marriage. The top card in the third pile was the Eight of Clubs, which predicted a career change or a change of location for Sophia in the spring. The cards did not answer Sophia’s question about her cousin, though.

  “Now I’m going to ask the spirits about Suzanne,” Fiona said, closing her eyes. After a few moments of feeling a little self-conscious under Sophia’s curious gaze, she heard a woman’s voice say: “It’s not an island.” An image of a broken down and dilapidated couch flashed in Fiona’s mind. She repeated to Sophia what she'd heard.

  Sophia’s face scrunched in thought. “God,” she said slowly, “Suzanne used to have a boyfriend who lived in an RV parked on what he called ‘Raymond’s Island,’ except it wasn’t an island at all. It was just a little piece of land that jutted out into a river.” She looked thoughtfully at Fiona, her top lip curling over her bottom lip. “Suzanne broke up with him more than a year ago, though,” Sophia continued, “and she always claimed breaking up with him had been the best thing she’d ever done.”

  Both women were quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Fiona silently asked the spirits for more, but nothing came through. “I also saw a plaid couch,” Fiona added, “a real beat-up looking brown plaid couch.”

  Sophia froze, then touched Fiona’s knee. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “Suzanne always complained that Ray didn’t have a regular bed and slept on a pullout couch.”

  Fiona’s eyes opened wide in surprise. She realized that she had almost failed to mention her mundane vision.

  “Maybe Suzanne got back together with Ray and she’s too embarrassed to tell anyone?” Sophia asked. “She used to break up with him, like, once a month. Like I said, though, it’s been over a year since Suzanne mentioned Ray.”

  Fiona
suggested Sophia draw another card to hopefully shed more light on Suzanne’s whereabouts. The card she drew was the Five of Spades. “A change of plans,” Fiona admitted, “but in a bad way.”

  Sophia stared at Fiona for a long moment. “I think I’m going to call my aunt in the morning and see if she still has Ray’s phone number.”

  Fiona nodded, amazed that the spirits had possibly helped point Sophia in the right direction in her quest to find Suzanne. She felt a thrill of pride. She doubted most readings would go that smoothly, but it had been a nice beginning to her solo career. She couldn’t wait to tell Grandma Mary about it in the morning.

  After Sophia left, Fiona crawled into bed and immediately began to drift into sleep. Then, in the haze of a dream, the ancient black phone in the hall began to ring. It shattered Fiona’s dream to bits, and its high-pitched jangling brought Fiona back to consciousness. Grandma Mary’s phone never rang at night. She threw back the quilt and scurried, barefoot, over the chilly floorboards. She yanked open the heavy bedroom door and lunged for the receiver, hoping her grandma wouldn’t wake up. “Hello?” she said, her voice breathless.

  “Fionya?” a garbled man’s voice asked.

  “Who is this?” Fiona whispered as quietly as she could.

  “It’s Henry,” the man slurred. “Henry Hudson. Ryan’s dad.” Fiona’s eyes widened in surprise. “Fi…Fionya…I did somethin’ bad…somethin’ real stupid.”

  Fiona, not understanding immediately, finally realized that the problem with Henry’s voice was that he was drunk.

  “What’d you do?” she asked softly.

  “I didn’t eat dinner. Then I put Ryan to bed and I had a vodka with some 7Up. I haven’t had a mixed drink sinsh Carol died, but I jush felt so…sad.” Henry drew the last word out dramatically. Then, he sounded like he was beginning to cry. “I felt so damn sad, and I had more vodka, but I ran out of 7Up, and now I’ve had too much and I’m scared.” His voice dropped down abruptly on the last word.