Chapter Ten #3
Daniel flinched as his head throbbed. Welcome to my world.
He was reluctant to get to his feet until everything settled. He groped in his pockets until he found his gloves and pulled them on. Then he heard the click of a certain dog’s nails come across the wooden floor right up to him. A wet tongue lapped across his face.
“Thanks, Pooka. Good boy.”
He leaned back on his elbows, waiting for the pain and nausea to subside. “Maybe inviting Mel up here right now wasn’t the best idea.”
The farther she drove into the green forested mountains, the more Mel began to think this might not be the best idea.
The smells were amazing: the pine, the damp of freshly turned earth, and now and again pungent wood smoke.
The colors, before the sun had sunk behind a mountaintop, had been like something from a gallery—delicate branches laden with ivory and bright pink blossoms peeking through the gentle greens of spring.
It was a beautiful time of year to visit these old mountains.
But it might not be a good time to visit Dr. Daniel Woodruff.
Her track record with men had been disastrous from the time she was six and had made a seven-year-old suitor run off screaming just by looking at him.
He had tried to use a peck on the cheek to distract her and steal her favorite Hot Wheels convertible.
That hadn’t been her only experience with the treacherous nature of the male species, although, to be fair, she hadn’t had many experiences to choose from.
There were wonderful things about growing up on the road with her parents.
She had seen and done things her peers couldn’t imagine, traveling around the country on the Ren fair circuit and performing with her father.
At the same time, being both itinerant and homeschooled hadn’t allowed for many long-term relationships.
But the nomadic lifestyle hadn’t been the real problem.
It was Mel’s ability that isolated her. It had been mistaken for illness at first, then a psychological issue, until her mom realized that what they were seeing was something much, much more.
And her father had given an Italian name to her talent for empathy—her talento.
Mel’s emotions would shift like quicksilver, from fits of temper to bouts of crying to uncontrollable giggles, and as she got older, she took those in her vicinity along for the ride. She was a tele-empath—able to both read and send emotion.
In time, Mel had learned how to shield herself from the emotions of others.
Her father had an Italian name for it as well—scudo.
It wasn’t foolproof and she couldn’t do it for long periods but being able to block the emotional background noise had given her something close to a normal life—assuming it could be considered normal to know without a doubt how everyone around her really felt.
Her father had joked that she should be glad she couldn’t hear what they were thinking as well.
But it was bad enough to always be able to sense someone’s emotional dirty laundry.
It had ruined her love life on more than one occasion.
It was so easy to intoxicate someone when she could send any emotion, make him feel what she wanted. When she was very young, it had been a temptation she couldn’t resist. She’d fancied herself an irresistible siren to men, or a cunning seductress.
But with maturity, when her heart had desired more, she realized that it would never be a shortcut to happiness. It had devastated her when she really understood how unethical it was to manipulate someone into saying ‘I love you’ and how absolutely meaningless those words could be.
So, Mel had put a more permanent scudo around her heart. It would take a true magician to get past it, and so far, she hadn’t found one.
But she had stumbled across a prince. Kissed him, even. A true prince, inside and out. Clear as glass, at least when it came to his emotions.
Daniel’s only deception had been about his ability to see the future. But she couldn’t exactly fault him for that. She hadn’t shared her talento with him.
He wore tweed jackets, but probably only when he was giving speeches or lectures, and he had a ten-year-old assistant whom he loved like a sister.
He told enlightening fables about the flora and fauna of his beloved mountains, always ready with a lesson about stewardship, and he adored his family.
He was gentle and sweet and smart, and quick to laugh.
Oh yes, and fierce. She remembered his fluid, athletic moves on the sidewalk in Florence and knew there was quite the physique under that button-down shirt of his. And he kissed…
You smell like honey and meadow grass.
Remembering that amazing kiss made her personal compass point painfully north or east or whichever direction his damn mountain was at the moment.
No. It was there, almost due north. Somehow, she knew.
Because his roots were there. She could feel them—ancient and deep. Like some distant music, barely heard. Enchanting. Alluring.
And a bit terrifying.
So why was she floating through the curves on this dark mountain road heading for Dr. Daniel Woodruff?
Actually, at the moment, she was parked in front of a closed farm supply/bait store/hardware store/service station/gift shop/information booth at an isolated intersection in the mountains, staring at a stack of highway signs pointing in all directions.
She loved the names of things up here: Lake Junaluska, Buckskin Branch, Max Patch, Rush Fork, Betsy’s Gap. Briefly, she wondered who Betsy was and why she had a gap, but that was playing the stalling game.
She jumped when her cell rang.
She recognized the ringtone. “Hey, Mom.”
“Where are you?”
Mel sighed. “Sitting at a crossroads. In more ways than one.”
“I thought as much. I ran your cards tonight. You’re in a state of denial about some decision. You’re resisting it because you’re not letting go of something. In short, you’re sitting on your butt.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Are you sure you’re all right, sweetie? Are you on your way here?”
“Just making a side trip to see someone about a story. Then I’ll be on my way.”
“Good.”
“What else do the cards say?” Mel asked, always curious.
“It seems the whole indecisive thing is due to some past emotional pain or disillusionment, but I’m not sure about the future card.”
Mel perked up. “What card is it?”
“The Moon.”
One of the major arcana. The hair on the back of Mel’s neck prickled.
“Since your personal card is the Sun, it could mean many things.”
“What if it’s a person?”
Mel could almost hear her mother thinking.
“It’s all about dreams and dreamers and powerful magic, this one.
The card of seers and mediums and visions.
It can be very dark. If it is a person, they could be a mad genius or a tortured artist or even someone who…
Is this the person you’re going to see about the article?
Are you trying to decide if it’s safe? Because they may have mental problems and mood swings. ”
“Can they? There are positive aspects to the Moon, right?”
“Of course. It’s all about breakthroughs and visions and creativity and intuition. But it’s such a powerful card. Unpredictable.”
“You said it was the card of seers.”
“Yes. Is this someone who claims to see the future?” Her mother’s voice was sharp. She’d encountered more than her share of imposters.
“No, he absolutely denies it,” Mel responded. “But I think he does. It’s why I’m seeing him. I’ll tell you everything when I get down there.”
“Mel.”
She could tell from the tone that her mother was about to issue some kind of warning.
“Look, I think he saved my life yesterday,” Mel said.
“Saved your life?” Her mother sounded confused. “I thought someone called your phone and woke you up.”
“That was him, and I don’t think it was a coincidence. There have been too many coincidences around this guy.” Mel said.
Her mother sighed. “All right, but with this reading… Does someone know where you are and who you’re with?”
“Lance does. I’ll send you the details. It’s Daniel’s family farm. His sister and brother-in-law live there, along with a bunch of paying guests. It’s a sort of bed and breakfast. So don’t worry, Mom. Lots of witnesses.”
Her mother sounded relieved. “Good. If he saved your life, I would like to meet him sometime.”
“It’s a deal. Give Dad a hug for me.”
“I will. He wanted to know if you’ll do a show or two with him when you get here. People will love seeing you again, and I already unpacked and cleaned your costumes for you.”
Mel sighed. “I doubt I’ll still fit into them. Please remind him that I’m old and creaky now. No bendy stuff.”
Her mother laughed. “I will. You be extra careful on the road, sweetie.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you.”
She pointed the Mini toward the mountain and thought about Daniel in the middle of a Ren fair.
She could picture that slim, athletic body of his in velvet hose and a long, fitted doublet with a poet’s shirt and slouchy velvet beret.
Watching him saunter through Scarborough dressed like that would be almost as entertaining as the time they spent in Florence.
But that day had been ruined by the two thugs with knives. First that, then her RV going up in flames. Random events that could happen to anyone. And yet the journalist in her couldn’t help but feel targeted. Mel shivered at the thought.