“Uh-huh,” Zora deadpanned.
“Really, it’s for the best,” she insisted. “Every time I left Eugene, he sulked. When I came back, it was like starting from scratch. He said he loved me but—” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Love isn’t supposed to be this much work. It’s supposed to click, to flow.”
Zora arched one eyebrow. “And how has all this clicking and flowing worked out for you so far?”
Gemma squirmed under her aunt’s sharp-eyed scrutiny. Delving into her feelings was about as appealing as disemboweling herself with a rusty knife. And as useful. The heart is an internal organ for a reason. It’s not meant to be displayed for all and sundry to dissect.
But Zora had a point. Caleb’s gentle dismissal knocked her way off balance. Once or twice during their relationship, she’d even felt the phrase “settle down” tickling the edges of her consciousness. Which was crazy for a free-spirited Aquarius like her. She was not the settling down type.
A month in Trappers Cove would help get her head on straight. And prepping for the big Portland expo gave her spinning thoughts a clear focus. Afterward, she’d return to Seattle, or Tacoma, or…
Zora rapped her knuckles on the glass countertop. “Earth to Gemma.”
“Sorry. I was just cogitating.”
“Always in your head. You should try thinking out loud sometime. Works great for me when I get stuck. I blather at Marquetta until a solution falls into place.” She wound her arm around Gemma’s waist. “I’m available for your blathering anytime the urge strikes you.”
She heaved a lung-emptying sigh. “Maybe later. I need to sit with my thoughts for a while.”
“Any plans for where you’ll go next?”
She shrugged. “I’ll know when the time is right to move on.”
Zora cupped her cheek, forcing Gemma to meet her gaze. “At the risk of sounding like my stodgy brother-in-law, you’re not a kid anymore. I hate to see you fritter away all this potential. Use that extraordinary intuition on yourself. You need a direction.”
A prickly heaviness settled in Gemma’s gut. “It’s just—I’m interested in so many things, but so far, nothing has quite worked out the way I’d hoped.”
Caleb said the same thing, more or less, when he asked her to return his apartment key. “You’re a live wire, Gemma. Someday, when you find a focus for all that energy, you’re going to make a real difference in the world. But I need a partner with more stability, someone I can build a home with, maybe start a family.”
Clucking her tongue, Zora beckoned her toward the back of the shop. “Poor, conflicted vagabond. Let’s see what the cards say.”
“About what?” Gemma followed her behind the carved Balinese screen to the space where Zora practiced divination—mostly tarot cards, but she had other fortune-telling tools up her tie-dyed sleeve. From a drawer in the low table, Zora pulled a deck of tarot cards wrapped in red silk. “Just a simple three-card spread—you, your path, and your potential.” She handed the cards to Gemma, who shuffled while searching for a question to focus the reading. Her frazzled mind yielded nothing useful.
Okay then, why not go with the mother of all questions?
“How can I be happy?” she asked aloud and flipped the top three cards onto the purple velvet tablecloth.
Zora pulled her reading glasses from her tunic pocket and set them on her button nose. “Oh my.” She tapped the first card. “Seven of cups.”
“I don’t remember what that means.” Despite her aunt’s tutelage, Gemma had never really got a feel for the art of tarot. She had better luck with palmistry—at least that’s what her friends said. Maybe they were just humoring her in exchange for hand massages.
“Quite simply, my dear, you’re paralyzed by a plethora of possibilities. Constantly weighing all those options keeps you from moving forward.” She patted Gemma’s hand. “I know you hate to be tied down, but this could be your signal to get out of your head and make a choice based on the opportunities right in front of you.”
Stay in Trappers Cove? As much as Gemma loved this funky little town, it was hard to imagine herself happy in such a small community. She got her juice from travelling—new faces, new possibilities, the ever-changing enticements of the open road, never staying in one place long enough to get bored.
Zora tapped the second card, a heart pierced with three swords. “That’s an excellent sign. It’s upside-down, see, so the swords fall out and healing begins. This is the card of silver linings, my dear. Help is on the way.”
She tapped the third card. “Six of pentacles. See the scale he’s holding? This represents a balance of giving and receiving. Be generous with what you have to give and be willing to accept help when it’s offered.” Zora quirked a crooked smile. “The balance can change at any time.” She pushed her seat back. “Does that resonate with you?”
A bead of sweat trickled down Gemma’s spine despite the winter chill.
“Here’s the thing, Auntie—What do I have to give?”
Zora’s soft hands enveloped hers. “So much, darling. You’ve always been a healer, the one your friends come to with their problems. Isn’t that why you studied social work?”
Gemma snorted. “Until I dropped out. I had no idea how hard it is for social workers to make a real difference. They’re so tangled up in red tape. I could never function within those confines.”
“So, what’s the wealth you’re meant to share?”
