Page 26 of Do Not Disturb
“You should let me tell your fortune.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why not? You do not believe in it anyway. So do it for a laugh. Yes?”
I nod at the dresser where I saw the Tarot cards. “So you use Tarot cards or a crystal ball or…?”
She waves a hand dismissively. “Those are just ornaments for putting on a show.” She taps her temple. “The real gift is in here.”
“Did you tell Nick’s fortune?” I ask.
She takes a bite of the stew. “I did.”
“And?”
She clucks her tongue. “Whatever happens during a session is private. But I will tell you this. He did not believe his fortune. And that was to his detriment. Also, I will tell you…” She leans in close enough that I can smell wine on her breath. “If Christina Marsh had listened to her fortune, she would still be breathing today.”
A chunk of meat feels like it has gotten lodged in my throat. “I think I’ll pass on the fortune-telling.”
She shrugs. “That is your choice. But even if you do not know your fortune, that does not keep it from coming true.”
“If you know your fortune, are you able to stop it? Or do you just have to try to look surprised when it happens?”
“In some cases, people may alter their destinies,” she says. “But it is rare. Most people simply allow it to happen. Like Christina.”
I want to roll my eyes at her, because it’s all so ridiculous. But there’s something about this woman. Something about her strange room and her eye socks and her beef stew that is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life. If anyone can tell the future, it’s this woman.
And that’s all the more reason for me to refuse.
Chapter Twelve
Ispend nearly two hours in Greta’s room. She tells me more about her time in the carnival—she’s actually quite entertaining. She has me laughing out loud at the story about how the carnies fought the mandatory daily shower rule by having a shower strike that lasted a grueling two months.
“By the end,” Greta says, “I had to walk around with a clothespin on my nose. Have you ever tried to read somebody’s palm with a clothespin on your nose?”
“I can’t say I have,” I say.
“I do not recommend it.”
“Did you have your own room there?”
She adjusts her billowy white nightgown. “I shared a room with Bernie. He was my husband.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “I didn’t realize you were…”
She continues to play with the fabric of her nightgown. “We met at the carnival. I was only nineteen when I met him. I didn’t speak much English. He taught me. We were together for over thirty years.”
“Was he psychic too?”
She smiles distantly. “Oh no. He did not have the gift. He would run games or rides for them or whatever they needed. We were not blessed with any of our own, but he loved the children who came to the carnival. He loved seeing the smiles on their faces. And then…”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “What?”
“One morning, he did not wake up. The doctors said it was his heart.” One side of her lips quirks up although her eyes are wet. “Bernie liked his corn dogs and curly fries. You did not have to be a psychic to know it would do him in. But I am grateful for the years we had together.”
I feel an irrational stab of envy. I can see on Greta’s face how much she loved this man. I never felt that way about Derek. I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel that way about a man. Somehow, true love has eluded me. Maybe I’m immune to it.
“Do not worry.” Greta’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “You will find love. I promise you.”
