Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“But your uncle was supposedly Brad’s best friend.”
“I know. But he was drugged, son. Drugged at Brad Steel’s wedding.”
“All the more reason to say that Brad Steel wasn’t involved. Why would he drug his best friend at his own wedding?”
“He may not have been involved. At least not directly. But remember, it happened on his land, and not too much later, another young woman disappeared.”
“Yes. I’ve heard the stories.”
“This one was Daphne Steel’s best friend from college. Her name was Patty Watson.”
“So that’s why you think it’s strange. Both of their best friends were killed.”
“Yes, it’s always stuck in my gut, kind of like some bad meat. I haven’t been able to prove anything, and I did give it up, once your mother and I got married and she announced she was expecting you. We have a good life here in Snow Creek. I love this place. But now? With these new messages coming to light? I know there’s something that isn’t settled, Brendan. Like I said, I feel it in my gut.”
“I hate to say it, Dad, but I feel it too.” Like a couple of concrete blocks.
“We’re going to figure it out this time, Brendan. Because I just won’t rest until I do.”
“What about Mom?”
“She’ll understand. She always does.”
I’m not so sure I agree with my father. He probably knows my mother better than I do, but I can’t forget my conversation with her in the garden. About how this consumed my father when they first met. I don’t want to see my father get obsessed.
But I want to know the truth.
I want to know what Ruby and Ryan are keeping from Ava.
Except…
If it will harm Ava…
Perhaps I shouldn’t know. If I do, I won’t be able to keep it from her.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Funny. I was just thinking about Ava.
Can you come over? I need you.
I text her back.
On my way.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
AVA
The image on the card is foreboding.
A solid brick tower being struck by lightning. Flames engulfing it, innocent souls jumping from the windows to their deaths to escape.
The tower.
But not just the tower.
The tower in reverse.
The common interpretation of this card is danger or crisis. Destruction, but also liberation. Sudden and unforeseen change.
But in reverse? It can mean illness or loss.
Obstacles. Something volatile.
Either way, my intuition is telling me this is not a good sign.
Funny thing about the tarot. Each card has both positive and negative connotations. It’s the reader’s intuition, and the questions posed, that decide which it will be.
As a tarot reader, I tend to focus on the positive.
I’ve drawn the tower before, and I read its meaning as liberating, and while there may be obstacles, overcoming them will be part of that liberation.
Right now, though?
I feel as though I’ve been punched in the gut.
I’m getting no positive feelings at all from this card.
In fact?
I feel like it’s inevitable.
Something is changing. Something that’s going to affect my life. Something that could destroy my family.
Is it illness? Some kind of loss?
My mother had breast cancer about three years ago. It was only a small lump with no lymph node involvement, and her doctor detected it early. After a lumpectomy and radiation, she’s cancer-free. Gina and I have yearly mammograms because Mom was so young when she was diagnosed, and so far all has been good.
But this card is scaring me.
Illness? Is my mother sick again? Is that why she’s acting so strange?
Nausea claws at me. No. I can’t lose my mother. But if she’s sick, that doesn’t really explain why she would be keeping information from me about the message Brendan and I received. To the contrary, if she’s sick, she’d be telling me things—things I need to know if she—
God, I can’t even think the thought.
I sigh. It’s probably time to do an entire reading. Pull out the Celtic cross, which I only use on rare occasions.
But something inside me can’t bring myself to replace the tower into the deck.
It’s staring at me, almost pulsing at me.
And I don’t even want to touch it.
I don’t consider the tarot to be the be-all and end-all of my life. I use it solely for guidance, and sometimes I choose not to follow what the card seems to be saying to me—a prime example being how I’ve let myself get swept away with Brendan.
I can choose to ignore this card and the feeling it’s evoking in me.
Objectively, I know I can pick it up right now, stick it back in the middle of the deck, and shuffle. Do a new reading. A full Celtic cross. Perhaps a cleansing reading.
My phone dings.
I’m here. Down in the alley.
I rush down the stairs and through the bakery to let Brendan in. Then I launch myself into his arms.
“What is it? How can I help?” he asks.
“I’m not sure you can, but I’m really glad you’re here.” I take his hand and lead him up the stairs to my apartment.