Chapter Six
“Oh yes!” Mel exclaimed as her fingers closed around the confection and slid across his.
Attraction. Longing. The sudden influx of emotion warmed her all the way to her toes. She had to work to focus on the road, but she gamely hung on to the confection and aimed it at her mouth.
Between the intense feelings she’d picked up from Daniel and the luscious taste of the pastry, her senses were on high alert.
She carefully eased off the gas. Driving while eating one of these was iffy at best but throw in her confusion over what she was picking up from Daniel and it could be deadly.
Mel took a bracing breath. He was yanking on his gloves.
“Are your hands bothering you again?”
He looked at her, but she could tell the pain was blinding. He had another migraine. These episodes, whatever they were, couldn’t be good for him.
“Yeah.” His voice was a bit hoarse.
She licked the sweet chocolate and filling off her lips and tried to ignore how the growl in his voice made her feel.
Daniel rested his head on the seat. “I need some more wine.”
Mel took another bite of the bongo and gulped from a bottle of chilled sparkling water, though she would have preferred some more wine herself.
“Can you hand me a napkin?”
Daniel fished awkwardly in the bag, finally pulling the napkins out, almost missing the console as he laid them down.
“You should have a bongo. You haven’t touched them yet, and I want another.”
Daniel held the container in her direction and she plucked one out, but he didn’t. She must’ve made some kind of satisfied noise because he soon said, “That good, huh?”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she replied. “These are almost better than—” She realized what she had almost said, yet again, and turned to find his eyes, the same color as the chocolate, focused on her mouth.
At least having his eyes open didn’t make his headache worse in the dim light, but this odd dance of theirs had to stop or she was going to wreck the car, which would be a bad end to an already strange day.
What they needed was a distraction.
“What exactly did you see when you shook Francesca’s hand?” she asked.
Even in the dim light, she saw him go pale. His jaw clenched as he wrapped up the pastries and put them back in the bag. “What do you mean?”
“An earthquake? A train wreck? A bunch of kids playing hockey falling through the ice?” He frowned at the reference to the Stephen King story. “You saw something, or felt something, or heard something.”
“Why not all three?” Daniel said. “Why not an earthquake that causes a train to crash into a hockey arena? And that’s nothing compared to…” He stopped himself short.
“To what?”
He blinked and noticed that the map light was still on. “To the hangover I’m going to have in the morning.” He groped a bit for the switch, and finally flicked it off.
“Nothing compared to what you saw when that goon grabbed you on the street, I suspect?” Mel prodded.
He leaned back in the seat. “Now you’re imagining things, Ms. Noblett. Journalists aren’t supposed to make stuff up, are they?”
“Only if they work for TMZ. So, this whole wild-goose chase was just me imagining things, Dr. Woodruff?”
There was only silence in response.
“Or maybe you think I was humoring you to get a story.”
More silence, but she sensed that hit close to the mark.
Mel thought hard about revealing anything to this man she barely knew. But seeing him push at his sore temples, she was reminded of those times she would tag along on her mother’s attempts to get away from whatever darkness she had envisioned.
“My mom can see the future,” she said. “For real.”
He glanced at her, then at the roof. He didn’t believe her
“She’s a psychic. Her specialty is reading tarot cards.”
Daniel rolled his head to look at her. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“Your mom’s a fortune-teller?”
Mel smiled. “Madame Amelia. Seer to kings and queens.”
“For a living?” he asked incredulously.
She had long ago learned how to deal with this kind of reaction, but before she could give her standard scathing retort—
“Don’t answer that,” he said. “I can’t count how many times someone has asked me what I do, only to follow up with ‘Nice, but what do you do for a living?’ I apologize.”
“Thanks. Yes, my mother is a full-time psychic.” She wasn’t going to tell him about her father. No need to complicate things. “Not a fake. The real deal.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical.”
“You’re forgiven. But it’s still true.”
There was a pause, then, “So, how does she do it, exactly?”
“Mostly she reads the cards as they fall. Tarot is all about using the right spread and interpreting the cards in it to gain insight into situations or relationships. It’s not a matter of telling the client something, but letting the client tell themselves what they need to hear.”
Daniel grunted. “A lot of divination works that way. Nothing magic about that.”
Mel nodded in agreement. “But then there are the other times. The times when she senses that she needs to dig deep and actually see. Sometimes people ask specific and urgent questions about the future and need direction. Mom is good at that. It’s a true gift, if you can call it that.”
Daniel made a noise that could have been a laugh or another skeptical groan. She couldn’t tell.
“But sometimes the readings aren’t very good,” Mel continued.
“No, that’s not the right way to put it.
Mom does her best to provide a positive outlook, but sometimes she can’t put a good spin on what she sees.
Sometimes a sick relative isn’t going to recover, or a lost child isn’t going to come home.
The only direction is to move forward and cope. ”
Daniel was silent. Dread. Confusion. Distrust.
“A true reading takes a lot of energy, and when she has one of those, she always comes away from it feeling ill. It’s usually a headache, like yours.” She waited, hoping that might convince him to share.
“Lots of people get headaches,” he replied.
“But those people don’t see the things she sees,” she said. The things you see? Or think you see?
She waited a few moments, hopeful, then she sighed and sent calm and tranquility and peace. That was twice today for her Reverse Sleeping Beauty. She wondered if she would overtax her ability.
Daniel sighed as he drifted into sleep. It was only a temporary reprieve. Whatever it was he struggled with…
Could it be a talento like her mom’s? Like hers? Were there others out there?
She shook her head. That was too much for her stressed-out brain to handle right now. Besides, if there was one lesson her parents had taught her, it was that their freedom, their normalcy, relied on secrecy. She had probably revealed too much already.
Kind of ironic that she was trying to get Daniel to spill his secrets. But hey, that was her job.
She fished out her headphones and cranked up her favorite driving playlist and let the Mini chew up the road while she cleared her mind and pretended the top was down.
Pulling into the portico less than an hour later, Mel looked over to find Daniel still sound asleep. She hated to wake him up, but the hotel probably wouldn’t approve of her using a baggage cart to transport a guest.
“Dr. Woodruff?”
Daniel snorted and smiled. It was such a relaxed look, so different from his usual intense expression, that she felt oddly guilty.
“Hey there. You hungover yet or still working on it?”
He blinked a few times and finally focused on her. “Hey, Melissa,” he pronounced her name with barely a slur.
“Ah, still working on it.”
“No, I’m fine. Nice nap,” he said. “No dreams.”
Mel frowned. “I didn’t know if you wanted to stop by the train station or not. We can—”
The smile vanished as fast as it had appeared. “No point. I’ll check at the desk.”
“I can wait with you if they’re not back yet.” She pointed. “If we camp out in the lounge, we can have some espresso and keep an eye on the entrance.”
He rubbed a hand across his face. “It’s late. I don’t want to waste any more of your time. Really.”
“Look, it’s been an unbelievable day. I can’t possibly miss the ending,” Mel replied. “Besides, I’m worried about them too. You’re pretty convincing in your own vague, cryptic way. Let me go park the car and I’ll—”
There was an uproar behind them, and she turned to see the first of two taxis disgorge a group of laughing and obviously exhausted people—a group that included Francesca.
The look of relief on Daniel’s face was soon replaced by one of determination as he opened his door.
Mel knew what he was about to do and grabbed for his sleeve. “Daniel, wait.”
But he was already out of the car and striding toward Francesca as he yanked off his gloves. The woman smiled tentatively as he approached, Mel trailing behind him.
“Dr. Woodruff! I wish you might have come with us. Are you feeling better?”
“Looks like you had a good time.” Daniel smiled broadly at her. “I just wanted to apologize to you for this morning.” He extended his hand. “I think the presentation really did a number on me.”
Francesca cocked her head, eying his hand as if she was wondering if this was some American custom she didn’t know about. She seemed to decide it was harmless and took it.
Mel tried to stop him, too late.
“No problema!” Francesca said, smiling. “We had a most… Very good time. I am glad you are feeling better.”
Daniel’s eyes were blank and his face expressionless. Mel quickly slipped her arm through his and pulled him away. “Come on, hon, you owe me an amaretto.” Fear. Overwhelming. Someone else’s. Just like before.
Francesca didn’t seem to notice. She smiled and waved as she walked into the hotel. “Have a safe trip to home, Dr. Woodruff!”
Mel maneuvered Daniel to the car. One of the hotel staff approached solicitously. She fished for some euros in her jacket pocket.
“Could you possibly park my car in the garage for me? I need to get him inside.”
“Si, signora. No problem.”