As it turned out there weren’t any fences to jump and we walked straight in. There wasn’t much to see. Some men hauling ropes and driving machinery ignored us. On the steps of a trailer, a tanned woman sat smoking. She wore a colorful dress and jangly bracelets up to her elbows. She had deep creases around her eyes and mouth, and her dark hair was graying at the temples.
“Ah, young love,” she said when she saw us. “Sorry, kids, but we’re closed.”
“Our mistake,” Xavier said politely. “We were just leaving.”
The woman took a long drag of her cigarette. “Like your fortunes read?” she asked in a rasping voice. “Since you’re here.”
“You’re a psychic?” I asked. I didn’t know whether to be skeptical or intrigued. It was true that some humans had a heightened awareness and could experience premonitions of sorts, but that was about the extent of it. Some humans could see spirits or feel their presence, but the term psychic seemed a little presumptuous to me.
“Sure am,” said the woman. “Angela Messenger at your service.” Her name threw me somewhat—that it should be so close to angel was unnerving. “Come on in, no charge,” she added. “Might liven up the evening.”
Inside, the trailer smelled of take-out food. Candles flickered on the table and fringed tapestries hung from the walls. Angela indicated we should sit down.
“You first,” she said to Xavier as she took his hand and began to study it intently. The expression on his face told me he thought the whole thing was a joke. “Well, you have a curved heart line, which means you’re a romantic,” she said. “Short head line means you think directly and don’t beat around the bush. I’m sensing a strong blue energy from you that indicates that heroism is in your blood but also means you are destined to experience great pain, of what sort I can’t be sure. But you should be prepared for it as it’s not far away.”
Xavier tried to look as though he was taking her advice seriously.
“Thank you,” he said. “That was very insightful. Your turn, Beth.”
“No, I’d rather not,” I said.
“The future is not to be feared but confronted,” said Angela. The way she said it was almost a challenge.
I held my hand out reluctantly for her to read. Although her fingers were rough and calloused, her touch was not unpleasant. The moment she stretched out my palm she seemed to stiffen slightly.
“I can see white,” she said, her eyes shut as if in a trance. “I feel an indescribable happiness.” She opened her eyes. “What an amazing aura you have. Let me check your lines.
Here we have a strong unbroken heart line, which suggests you will only love once in your lifetime. . . . Then let’s see—Good Lord!” She straightened my fingers and pushed them back to stretch out the skin.
“What?” I asked in alarm.
“It’s your life line,” the woman said, her eyes wide with alarm. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“What about my life line?” I asked impatiently.
“My dear”—Angela’s voice dropped to a mere whisper—“you don’t have one.”
We walked back to Xavier’s car in awkward silence.
“Well, that was weird,” he said finally as he opened the door and I climbed in.
“Sure was,” I agreed, trying to sound lighthearted. “But who believes in psychics?”
Xavier’s car suited him perfectly. He drove a sky blue 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air convertible.
It had been lovingly restored down to the last detail, and made me feel like we’d traveled back in time. Its headlights gleamed in the darkness and its smooth leather seats were strangely comforting.
“Beth, meet my baby,” he said. “She’s a pretty sweet ride.”
“Hello,” I half raised my hand in an awkward wave and immediately felt like an idiot.
“You do know cars are inanimate objects?” I teased.
“Take it easy,” Xavier said. “You’ll hurt her feelings.”
“I didn’t know cars had feelings.”
“This one does. She’s got a life of her own.” Xavier patted the hood before pulling open my door. “Don’t be jealous of Beth, baby. You can’t be the only woman in my life.”
He switched on the ignition and put the car into gear before turning the dial to a commercial radio station. The dulcet tones of the announcer welcomed listeners to his show, Jazz After Dark. I noticed Xavier’s car had a comforting smell—a combination of leather seats and a crisp woody scent that might have been his cologne.
After riding only briefly in our hybrid Jeep, I wasn’t prepared for the noise of the vintage engine roaring to life and flattened myself against the passenger seat. Xavier glanced across at me with raised eyebrows.
“You all right there?”
“Is this car completely safe?”
“Do you think I’m a bad driver?” He smirked.
“I trust you,” I said. “I’m just not sure about cars.”
“If you’re worried about safety, you might like to follow my example and put on that seat belt.”
“The what?”
Xavier shook his head in disbelief.
“You worry me,” he muttered.
“Are you going to be in trouble?” he asked when we pulled up outside Byron. I saw that the front porch light had been left on so my escape must have been noticed.
“I don’t really care,” I said. “I had fun.”
“So did I.” The moonlight glinted briefly on the cross at his neck.
“Xavier . . .” I began tentatively. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I’m just wondering . . . why did you ask me out tonight? It’s just that Molly told me about . . . well . . . about . . .”
“Emily?” Xavier sighed. “What about her?” A defensive note had crept into his voice.
“People just can’t leave it alone, can they? That’s the thing about small towns—they get off on gossip.”
I found it difficult to meet his gaze. I felt as if I’d crossed a boundary, but I couldn’t go back.