Chapter 1 #2
But suddenly I stopped. My vision went hazy, and the present faded from existence.
Most of my predictions were vague. A feeling I had—go left, go right, bring an extra pen, don’t order the chicken…
—things that I had to interpret or later figure out why I did what I did.
But every once in a while, I got a vision.
These were debilitating in that it completely took me over, regardless of what I was doing or where I was.
It was one of the reasons I didn’t drive often.
That vision was the first time I saw my store. Witch Upon a Star, my new age shop I would one day build. I saw it with perfect clarity as if I were standing in it instead of on the sidewalk outside of Mount Grove’s bakery.
Dosia stood next to me, handing me an invitation. “It’s SJ’s third birthday party.” She nudged my shoulder playfully. “He wants his favorite aunt there…”
The vision faded, and I never caught the rest of Dosia’s sentence.
At the time, I didn’t know who SJ was. Dosia didn’t live in Mount Grove anymore, but the ring on her finger was telling.
By the time I came out of the vision, Quinten was gone.
I had no choice but to return to A Wrinkle on a Page, the bookstore I loved and had recently taken over from my parents.
My mom was there, just to hang out with me for the day.
When I told her about my vision, she was very specific. That vision had stopped me from going after Quinten, which meant I was not meant to go after him. It was frustrating, but I knew enough about my gift to begrudgingly agree with her.
But that didn’t stop me from going to Loafin’ Around the next day.
Or the day after that. Or the day after that.
I was careful, always in line before him or already outside with my drink when he arrived.
I never made eye contact, and the bench across the street from the bakery became very well acquainted with my ass.
I might have become a slight stalker, but I needed to see him.
Even if it was always from a distance. After years of phantom figments, just to see him in person felt like a miracle.
About six months later, I had another vision.
I was at a restaurant with my parents celebrating my twenty-second birthday.
I was about to order my meal when my parents faded from our table and he was suddenly there.
Quinten. He was lovely. His hair looked freshly washed and he was clean-shaven.
The dress shirt he was wearing was pulled taught over his thick muscles, and I wondered if he knew how much effort his buttons were putting in to keep his shirt closed.
He was signing the receipt, one of those black folding things that restaurants use to present the check to patrons in front of him.
The pen wasn’t working, no matter how many times he shook it or scribbled with it at the top of the thermal paper.
Looking up at me, he gave me that boyish smile I’d loved since I was sixteen.
“You know, if this is the only thing that goes wrong on our first date, I think we did pretty well…”
I laughed and handed him another pen from my purse. Something had told me I would need it.
As he took the pen from me, I saw the date at the top of the receipt. It was nearly four years in the future from my twenty-second birthday.
I stared at the empty pillow beside me, the longing in my heart as sharp as a blade.
At twenty-four, I still had two years to go.
Two years of empty beds, of dreams of kisses and lovemaking, of phantom touches, of sitting outside the local bakery to catch a glimpse of him, of knowing that he was mine while I watched him touch, kiss, and date other women…
All while knowing my first date with him wouldn’t happen for another six hundred plus days. It was agony, the torment of knowledge.
But I powered through. What choice did I have?
He might not know he was mine, but I knew I was his.
When we finally did meet, I wanted to be someone he could be proud of, someone worthy of the love and devotion I knew he would one day feel for me.
I refused to mope. Sure, there were mornings like this one that were harder than others, but in the solitude of my bedroom, I could let myself feel those darker thoughts and emotions.
My mom was the only person who knew everything, and while she sympathized with my situation, she was also very strict that I could not mess with the future. Quinten Miller was mine… Just not yet.
I had no idea why I was carrying a roll of paper towels down Main Street until I saw Vivian Dunham, my old classmate’s wife, and their twin toddlers.
Both were hellions, and Vivian looked more and more haggard every time I saw her.
When one of the boys poured his apple cider all over his brother’s head inside their stroller, I was right there with my roll of paper towels to help Vivian.
She thanked me profusely, but there was also a wariness in her eyes that had nothing to do with her raising twin boys with a mostly absent husband. Gregory traveled a lot for work, leaving Vivian home alone with their sons.
No, that look had everything to do with me.
Despite my help in cleaning up her kids and her appreciation, there was still a part of her that was screaming caution.
It wouldn’t surprise me if she crossed herself after my back was turned to her.
It didn’t bother me as much as it used to.
What bothered me was when they tried to “save my soul” by shoving their religion down my throat.
I helped people out where I could, would be offering tarot readings in my new store, but I never pushed my beliefs onto someone.
If someone clutched their cross or made the sign to ward off the Devil around me, that was their prerogative. I couldn’t change who I was any more than they could.
Today was the town’s annual Fall Festival. Normally it was after Halloween, closer to Thanksgiving, but this year it had been moved due to one of the organizers needing a bigger break between putting on the festival and serving a town Thanksgiving gathering.
I didn’t mind. It was a week before the Grand Opening of my new store. Nothing could get me down today. There was still so much that I needed to do, but Oolong, my three-year-old citrus morph bearded dragon, wasn’t much help in the construction department.
The past several weeks had been lonely. For the first time in our lives, Dosia and I were fighting. Or had had a fight. I’d practically disappeared from my parents’ house where she and her daughter, JJ, were living too. I wanted to give her space, and time with her new family.
“Do you have any idea what it feels like to be played a fool? And by my best friend! My life is my own, Calliope. We agreed years ago that you wouldn’t interfere unless you saw something that endangered my life. But you’ve been playing some chess match with my life for years!”
She wasn’t wrong. I had played her, manipulated events without her knowledge. But never in malice. I loved Dosia, and all I wanted for her was her happiness. If I couldn’t have my man, I wanted to make damn sure she got hers.
On Dosia’s twenty-first birthday, she had a one-night stand with a local.
I was nineteen at the time and couldn’t go bar hopping with her and her friends.
Dosia had offered for them to do a different activity, but something had told me that she needed to go.
It wasn’t until about a week later that I understood why.
A tiny little pumpkin had started to grow inside her womb.
I saw it grow as her daughter grew, and while Dosia did not tell the father of her baby about her, I knew that pumpkins were significant to her future. I just didn’t know how.
After she moved back to Mount Grove almost two months ago, it became even clearer. The father of her baby was Pumpkin. Not a pumpkin in a literal sense, but his name was Pumpkin. Like Quinten, he was a member of the Via Daemonia Motorcycle Club, and that was his road name.
He also had a son named SJ.
It was like a puzzle finally coming together when visions played out so perfectly.
But I knew that Dosia would fight getting together with Pumpkin.
She was afraid of being hurt by him, and certainly wouldn’t have given him the time of day or even allowed him to know he had a daughter if I hadn’t interfered.
It hadn’t been my place, and I knew that.
I didn’t overstep my bounds often. Ever, really.
From the time we realized the extent of my gift, my parents had been extremely strict with me about overstepping.
Basically, unless it was life or death, I wasn’t to.
But this was Dosia. She was my best friend.
Biologically, she might be my niece, but I loved her like a sister.
I couldn’t let her stubbornness and fears keep her from her happiness.
And I was willing to pay the price of her anger at my deeds to give that to her.
I knew she would be here today, though. Mom had told me that she and Pumpkin spent most of their days, and a good number of nights, together. Their kids were getting to know each other, becoming the siblings they were meant to be. Dosia would someday soon have a ring on her finger.
I was thrilled everything was working out for her and that she was able to get over her fears enough to allow Pumpkin back into her life.
But I missed my best friend. I had a major change happening in my life right now, and she was the only person I wanted to share it with.
I needed to find her, apologize again, and hope beyond hope that she found it in her heart to forgive me.
I wanted her opinion of my new store, wanted her to be a part of my Big Day.