Page 130 of Dream House
Pen cackles with laughter.
I gulp and point to the card. “Am I supposed to understand that this is my future with Lark?” A baby? With Lark? A tumult of sensations swims in my belly. Thrilling, terrifying, liquifying feelings.
Pen raises a staying hand, warning lighting her eyes. “Hold on, now. The cards don’t tell us that.” She points again to the second card. My present. “Crossroads, remember?”
Biting my lips, I nod.
“Now.” Like Vanna White, Pen waves her hand over the line of cards she’s dealt. “Let’s put these together. Past. Present. Future.”
Jesus Christ, I’m nervous. Even more nervous now that I’m looking at all three. Before she says anything else, I see it. I see a certain truth to what I’ve been dealt.
Pen points to the first card. “You’ve been afraid of failure, and if I’m allowed some interpretive liberties as the house witch and your spiritual advisor—”
I cough a laugh that earns me her scowl.
I clear my throat and shake my head. “Sorry. Please continue.”
“As the house witch and your spiritual advisor,”she repeats with emphasis then mutters, “let’s not forget that you’re up here in my domain. Seeking my advice.” She snaps her head, her tone getting snippier with each word.
“You’re right,” I acknowledge, meaning it. “Your advice is important to me.”
“Hmph. Well, then, if I’m allowed liberties, I’d say your fear of failure in your romantic life is what has you choosing the wrong partners or not choosing any partners at all. You’re afraid of really caring about someone and really letting them hurt you.”
“I—” Her assessment prickles, and I want to dodge it, but I realize I can’t. It’s the truth. I nod. “Yeah, okay.”
Pen’s grin is satisfied. She moves her index finger to the middle card. “You’re at a crossroads now, faced with something that scares you, and that something, I think, is Lark Bienvenue. Or, more to the point, your strong feelings for Lark Beinvenue.”
Again, I open my mouth in protest. I’ve only just acknowledged those feelings to myself, and hearing her speak about them makes me feel like I have zero control and zero protection from them.
So, yeah. Again, she’s right.
“Go on,” I say, tight-jawed.
Pen taps the Eight of Wands again, her voice softening. “But action is required. You have to take a risk. What you’ve done in the past just won’t cut it.”
I heave a sigh and point to the third card. “But you said this future may or may not have anything to do with Lark, so what happens if I take a risk with him and then crash and burn?”
Pen’s amber eyes soften to honey. “Then you get your heart broken for the first time. And hopefully, it’s the last time too. And then you’ll be ready. You’ll be open for the future you deserve.”
“But I don’t want to get my heart broken.” I sound like Maisy when she has to get a shot.
Pen clasps my hand and settles it over the Empress card. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here.”
Squeezing her hand, I look at the mystery card in the corner of the table. Waiting. Looming.
“And that one?” I ask, my voice hollow.
Pen squeezes back. “Turn it over.”
I do, and I immediately don’t like it. The card depicts a man at night, climbing a hill with a walking stick, a sad moon face in the sky over his shoulder. Beneath his feet are a row of golden goblets.
“Ho-ly shit,” Pen swears.
“What?” Tension flattens the word.
Pen covers her mouth and looks at me with something I definitely do not like.Uncertainty.
“What?”I repeat.
