Chapter Five Callum
Chapter Five
Callum
"Could I read your tarot, dove?"
I jump at the familiar voice to my left, yanked out of the staring contest like a fish on a line. My mom can still manage to sneak up on me... or maybe I was just too distracted...
Sophie's cheeks darken as she looks over to my mom, whose brown eyes bounce back and forth between us with a knowing grin. I shoot her a look that she pointedly ignores, silently trying to tell her not to frighten away the customers, especially this customer.
Her gaze locks on Sophie and holds, thoughtful and dreamy, like she's seeing something I can't.
"Oh," Sophie breathes, and her brows furrow while her face reads like she’s a little unsure. "I've actually never had one done before..."
"First time for everything, and the first is free. Store policy.”
It is not—she just made that up—but I'll be damned if I say anything. Mom gently hooks her arm through Sophie's and guides the shorter girl over to her table, her domain.
Sophie looks over her shoulder at me, her expression questioning, and I smile reassuringly as I place her books in one of our canvas totes.
"It's painless," I assure her with a wink, and she smiles, cheeks pinkening in an adorable way.
Jesus...
They sit, and I follow them over to the tarot nook: a round wooden table with two padded chairs, one on either side, that my dad made for my mom.
Sophie sits gracefully, setting her navy tote bag on the ground next to her feet. Those pretty eyes watch Mom expertly shuffle the cards, and I hang back a bit to give them some privacy, leaning against the wall, but still in full sight of Sophie's face.
She smiles genuinely at my mom, and warmth spreads from my chest outward. She's not being patronizing, not dismissing, and calling the tarot 'woo-woo nonsense' as some other people do.
And even if she's thinking it, she's being kind.
That's all we can really ask from people, isn't it?
"Alright, dove, think of your question. Or your ache. You don't have to tell me what it is,” Mom says softly, fanning the deck out. "Cut for me?"
Once she does, Mom closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before flipping four cards in a line.
She points to the first card, a burning tower struck by lightning.
"The Tower," she says for the first card, and her voice goes low. "Sudden disruption, often necessary. What has broken needed to break. It feels like destruction, but it's just the removal of waste."
Sophie's big eyes widen even more, and I can't help but lean in a little, intrigued now.
The next card is a woman gently closing a roaring lion's mouth.
"Strength," Mom says, smiling with her eyes. "Not force. Courage, the quiet kind. You already possess the inner fortitude to face your challenges head-on."
I glance at Sophie, her face shifts from unease to determination, like she's gathering herself right in front of me.
The corners of my mouth tilt up as I watch her, practically blooming like a flower in front of me. It’s quite the sight. I find myself liking how she straightens in her seat, eyes wide with wonder as she listens to the mystical words.
Mom's smile widens as she points a black-painted fingernail to the next card—a naked woman pouring water beneath a field of stars.
"Ah, The Star. Healing. Hope. You will face your challenge and will come out on the other side better for it."
Sophie's eyes mist over a bit, and my heart clenches at the sight. She blinks a couple of times and lifts her chin, smiling gently now.
The last card, two people facing each other, cups raised, a winged lion above them.
"Two of Cups," Mom says, softer now. "A bond. Chosen. Mutual. Not rescue—true partnership. Not just in romance, but also in friendships."
Sophie wilts a bit at that one, deflating slightly, and exhales like she's been holding her breath for an hour.
A hesitant hope in her expression mixes with the shadow of worry in her eyes.
She looks for a long moment at the four cards in front of her and gives a small, stunned laugh that has not one spec of mockery in it.
"Thank you," she murmurs, and then, as if embarrassed by her own relief, she reaches into her wallet and tries to hand Mom a ten.
"Nope," Mom grabs her hand and folds it around the money, gently pushing it away. "First one's free, my dove."
"Thank you," Sophie whispers and makes eye contact with me.
Whoosh, I feel it in my chest and can't help but smile at her.
She returns it with a radiant one of her own before standing up and gently pulling her bag onto her shoulder.
I hand her the bag with her two books, and she takes it so gently—two hands, like I'm passing her something precious and breakable. Just like how she handled the books.
I like that, the care.
She smiles when she sees the Rivers & Rhodes tote, "Looks like I have a new favorite tote bag."
My smile widens, and I nod toward the bag, "I put our business card in there for you, our number's on it. If you have any questions about the book club, or questions about the book, or... anything at all really.."
She nods once, meeting my eyes steadily.
"I'll definitely think about Monday, Callum."
I want to say: I hope you come, and you do not owe me a damn thing, and also you looked like someone was unkind to you today, and I really wanna find out who and beat their ass for it.
What I do say is: "Again, no pressure, but it's very low-key, and everyone is extremely nice and welcoming."
Those lovely eyes of hers sparkle a bit more at that as they hold and lock with mine, making my heart kick again.
The grandfather clock in the corner chimes a new hour, and I realize we’re supposed to be closed—and she realizes it, too.
"God, I'm so sorry. Let me get out of your hair—"
"No worries. Was worth it,” I assure her, and she blushes so pretty at that.
So damn pretty.
I walk her to the door and hold it open—because I'm my father's son. When she passes me, I catch her scent—something warm and sweet and whoosh, once again.
I clear my throat, "Get home safe."
She smiles at me, so genuine and warm as she turns to walk down the street.
"Bye, Callum. It was really nice meeting you."
"You too, Sophie.”
Understatement of the year, of the decade, of the century.
I stand in the doorway, watching her walk down the street. She tugs her tote bag up on her shoulder and hugs the one I gave her to her chest, like she’s shielding it.
My heart clenches at that, and I keep my eyes on her until she turns down Willow Ave and disappears from sight.
Only then do I close and lock the door, flipping the sign to CLOSED.
Sophie.
My mom glides by me with a broom, a gentle smile on her face as she starts sweeping the front.
I head to the register to finish counting.
Our interaction starts replaying on a loop in my head, and I don't even feel embarrassed about the happy endings exchange.
I can only remember how Sophie laughed so carefree and true.
I want to see it again, I want to see her again. Hopefully soon.
"Just like the white winged dove, sings a song, sounds like she's singin'..." Mom sings gently to the music in her head, bending to dump the dustpan into the trash while I finish counting and start organizing the deposit.
"Think she'll be back?"
"Odds are very favorable, sweetest heart," Mom smiles, twirling around the store as she continues to clean up. I grab the drawer out of the register and smile at her words, hoping she's right.
Something about that girl felt... right, and I really, really hope she stops by on Monday.