Moondance by Karen M. Black Read Free Book Online Page B

her hair streaming behind her, leaning back to see the world upside down. She sat on the wooden seat and grasped the cool metal links. She backed up on tip-toe, and let go. The lake breeze caressed her body and she pushed higher. As she swung back, the wind caught her hair and tickled her cheeks. She leaned back again, and opened her eyes, the blood rushing to her head.
    This was a place of contemplation where she had come as a child. This was where Tori first told her about her parents’ divorce, where Kevin first told her he loved her. Kevin . The last five years, amounting to nothing, less than nothing. Tori, the one person she believed she could always count on.
    She felt the sharp ache, then the anger. She stopped swinging, abruptly digging her heels into the sand. A rough sensation, electric hot, moved from the base of her skull and settled behind her eyes. Her eyes watered as she squinted into the sun.

    • • •

    LATER THAT DAY, ALTHEA stood on the front porch of a small bungalow. When the door opened, she smelled fresh flowers. A tall woman in a layered emerald-green dress, with a hand-painted silk scarf and curly black hair tied back, opened the door.
    “You’re late.”
    “I would have been here on time if there weren’t so many maniacs on the road this far north.”
    The woman laughed, a rich rolling sound. “I can see you’re still as mouthy as I remember.”
    “Takes one to know one,” Althea said and couldn’t help smiling. She hugged Michelle, sniffing, her eyes filling with tears. The woman smelled soft, like fresh powder.
    She remembered the first time she visited Michelle almost five years before. She and Sophie had been fighting and she drove through a late-summer lightning storm to see her. “Michelle’s good,” Tori had said. “She might give you some perspective.” An endorsement from Tori. At that time, it didn’t get any better than that.
    “So what’s going on?” Michelle asked. Althea had called the night before as she and Sophie were getting seriously sloshed, to ask for a rush appointment. Normally, Michelle booked a couple of weeks in advance.
    “You’re the psychic, you tell me.”
    “Ever the skeptic.” Michelle smiled. “Yet here you are — again.” Althea was silent. “You brought a tape?”
    Althea dug the cassette out of her knapsack and followed Michelle down a short hallway to a sitting room that featured two sage green wingback chairs, with a rectangular drop-leaf table between them. She sat down in the wingchair closest to the door. On the table was a green and gold tapestry throw anchored by an old cassette recorder. Michelle shooed a long-haired cat off the table as she slowly sat down. She took the plastic off the cassette and put it into the recorder.
    Althea pointed at a long twisted glass cane that lay on the floor beside Michelle’s chair. “That’s new.”
    “It’s what I use to knock some sense into my more stubborn, thick-headed clients, so watch out. I fell this winter and I still need it sometimes. It’s pulled glass, left to me by a great aunt. She said it was used by Mae West on Broadway.”
    “It’s beautiful.” The cane was twisted glass, with filaments of silver grey, yellow and green at its core.
    Michelle pressed the record button.
    “Okay. Now remind me of your birth date and time of birth.”
    “January 7, 1976, one-twenty-five in the afternoon.”
    Michelle opened a book that was worn from use, and marked down three symbols on a notepad in front of her.
    “Just to get this out of the way, I need birth dates of anyone else who might be important right now.
    “January 13, 1973, and May 17, 1976.
    “Thank you. And that’s it?”
    “For today.” Althea’s voice thickened. She opened her knapsack, removed a tissue and wadded it into a ball. She knew that Michelle would notice. They’d get to it.
    Michelle opened a book with lists of dates. She looked at the book, and marked more symbols on the pad of paper in front of