Telling Fortunes in Phoenix

Sara

Since adolescents were separated from the adult population Jewel must have misrepresented herself to be here. When the teenager’s turn came up she did not offer her a reading but used their privacy to interrogate the girl.

The fortune teller had met Jewel earlier in the spring. Sometimes there’d be a rush of clients when she became a temporary fad and Jewel had arrived with a sudden influx of high school girls. Once they were settled in the kitchen the pretty teenager asked how the Tarot worked as Sara laid out the cards.

“A Tarot spread is like a flow chart. You are here,” Sara pointed at the Princess of Wands in the center of the spread, “surrounded by influences,” indicating four cards in the center, “with probable outcomes here,” and she pointed to a row of four to the right side.

Her client chewed gum thoughtfully. Jewel was seventeen years old with very blonde hair and very white skin, a neat trick in Arizona where UV rays penetrated even indoors.

“External events,” Sara said, “run through decision boxes written by you.”

Jewel raised her gold eyebrows. “That’s why it’s like a flow chart.”

“Right,” Sara replied. “You know CPR?”

“Sure.”

All the kids learned CPR these days, like typing.

“A Tarot spread is like that. In CPR you check for breath and pulse. If they’re present, you do one thing, if they’re not, another. But in the flowchart of your life, you create the directions.”

“In the decision boxes.” Jewel nodded.

“If, for instance, you expect bad things,” Sara continued, “you might choose solutions that will lead to them. Say you’re studying algebra, and an equation seems impossible to solve. Your decision diamond might say ‘seek help,’ or ‘try later when you’re fresh.’ Another person’s may say, ‘you can’t do this, quit trying.’”

“Self-determination.” Jewel said, discreetly popping her gum. “But most people have a sort of attitude pretty young. Nature and nurture.”

“Very true,” Sara said. “In the Tarot cards your attitude is shown here, deeply held beliefs, and here, recently developed thoughts. Outside influences are here, ongoing major influences, and here, recent events or conditions.” Sara pointed at various cards as she spoke. “But enough theory. Let’s read your cards.”

The two gazed down at the table.

“Strong cards, strong cards,” Sara said. “This man is in your past and present. He is your protector and controls your life.”

“That’s probably my dad,” Jewel interjected.

Sara nodded. “Here,” she points at another card, “is disruption. The breaking of a pattern.”

Sara felt a constriction in her throat. Dark clouds seemed to swirl at the edges of the room. She took a slow breath and concentrated, returning her attention to the cards.

“You esteem this man,” she said, her voice a little choked, “but you seek freedom.” Sara looked up at the girl. “I would expect no less from an adolescent person.”

“Right,” Jewel agreed.

“There are secrets between you.” Sara frowned, lowering her head, eyes closed in concentration. She touched a card. A desert scene, with cliffs and plains intruded into her mind’s eye. She smelled dust and creosote and saw red hair peeking from behind a bush. She banished the incipient vision, tapping her finger on the card.

“Soon, you will be with women.” She pointed at a card that showed a four-square fortress. “I think you’ll be enclosed with them.” Sara looked up hopefully. “Are you going away to camp, or a seminar?”

She kept her voice cheerful and light but the fortress did not look like a happy place nor one that would be entered voluntarily. She glanced at the gum-popping kid across from her and wondered at the dark clouds that still hovered in the corners of her kitchen. It is not only the old who bear the world’s weight.

Jewel answered her question. “I want to go to art camp this summer, but that isn’t for sure yet.”

“Well, I could be mistaken,” Sara conceded, “but it seems like a restrictive situation, surrounded with pain and travail, though not necessarily your own. And,” the fortune teller looked up with relief, “you’ll have strong support while you’re there and you won’t be there long.” She tried smiling at the girl, but the teen did not smile back.

“This brief…” the word ‘incarceration’ came to Sara’s mind and she searched for a less alarming word. “…confinement will solidify your passion for justice. For social reform.” Sara pointed at the Hierophant, a strong, middle-aged man with all the trappings of authority.

“I thought that was my dad,” Jewel sad, radiating faith and regard whenever her father was mentioned.

“Both the Hierophant and the Emperor are in your spread, both cards of strength and authority, both masculine,” Sara said. “But a card often refers to a concept as well as a person.”

She pointed to the prince of swords, the eight of swords and The Emperor. “These are the cruel images of past iniquities. Not,” she interposed as Jewel opened her mouth to speak, “your own. There are many souls on this planet either harming or being harmed.”

The cards were gloomy and full of awesome responsibilities, not what she would wish for a carefree young person. Sara scanned the child for evil influence, alert for abuse or incest or bullying, but there was no such interference in Jewel’s life. She was beloved and well cared for, but still surrounded by shadows.

Jewel was the first person to bring those shadows, Maureen was the second and Blake the third. Sara did not want things strange or dangerous. Her life was established and serene and she did not did not attract deeply troubled people but Jewel’s reading rang in her heart like a gong.

“So, ‘Ruby Jenkins,’” Sara said, using the name Jewel had given as her alias, “what brings you to this pleasant outdoor gathering?”

Jewel sat erect, refusing to be chastised or shamed. “You remember I was talking to you about the stuff I found in my dad’s office?”

“Oh, yes.” Sara wasn’t likely to forget. She’d been enjoying the cool of a spring morning when the doorbell chimed. She was not happy to see Julia Wyatt at the door, still trailing her astral storm, but she invited the child in.

“What’s up?”

They moved into the kitchen.

“I’ve found some information and I thought you might be able to, I don’t know, help me understand it. Or give me some addresses or something.”

Sara busied herself at the sink, filling the kettle with water. “Is it about you?”

“No.”

“I just do personal readings.”

“But…”

“Also, this smells like trouble.” Sara turned toward the girl and leaned back on the counter, arms crossed over her chest. “And it’s not your trouble.”

“Are you reading me now?” Jewel asked.

“No. It just smells fishy.” The jangling in Jewel’s aura was painful and Sara explored the disturbance. A rudimentary scan told her the young woman was on a rescue mission, one that Sara wanted nothing to do with, but if she sent her away she was sure to get into trouble. Reluctantly, Sara seated herself at the table, hoping to forestall the kid’s trajectory.

“Okay, sit there.”

Sara barely saw her do so as a vision crowded in; it had been hovering, waiting for the slightest invitation to burst out.

She saw a boy. He wore tattered clothes and huarache sandals and hunkered behind a bush. Then she saw who he was hiding from: two blonds, both attractive and middle-aged, there was silver in the gold of their hair. They were having an angry discussion in the moonlight near a grey van. Sara pulled out further until the people were tiny figures surrounded by desert. A long building like a road-side motel was near the two adults with a stable and a two story house making two more sides of a large square yard in which they stood.

“What do you see?” Jewel asked.

Sara didn’t answer. Still viewing the desert scene, she asked the girl to describe her problem.

“I think my father is investigating something that will put him in danger,” Jewel said.

Sara swooped her consciousness back in from the desert to the face of the man. She saw the similarities to Julia’s face and memorized his. If this was Julia’s father she didn’t like him at all.

Sara next saw a scene in red and green, but it was no Christmas card. A body draped in green was surrounded by women and men in masks and gowns. The body was sliced open to remove a bright red bundle of gore, the slicers muttering congratulations, as if at the birth of a baby. The bloody object was swiftly passed to another green draped body, already opened, where more green clad workers placed the grisly bundle then bent, arms akimbo, to stich and sew.

“It looks like transplants are being performed.”

“Could you see where?” Jewel had produced a pad of paper and sat with her pen poised to write.

“Let me see.” Sara tried to expand her view as she had in the desert, but couldn’t. The workers, well aware of their crime, saturated the surgical suite in secrecy, making Sara’s brain feel gummy.

“I can’t tell where it is.”

“Too bad.” Jewel tapped the pen against her teeth. “I think the people he’s investigating are selling organs from illegal aliens.”

Sara’s eyes snapped open. The vision retreated. “Where did you get that information?” she said.

Jewel squirmed. “It was just some stuff I found when I was doing research for a class project.”

“What does your father do?”

“He’s a detective for the Phoenix Police Department.”

“And he just leaves sensitive information like this sitting around on the kitchen table for you to read?”

“Oh no!” Jewel looked shocked. “He keeps it locked up.”

“And you know about it how?”

Jewel rose and began to pace. She took the offensive and turned the question back on Sara. “That’s why I think he might be going at this alone,” she said. “That stuff shouldn’t leave the police offices. Why is it in his home computer?”

“Because someone could find out about it,” Sara said. “Like you.”

“Right.” Jewel returned to her seat.

Sara wondered if the trouble she felt was as simple as the dissemination of protected information.

“You know about a police investigation and now you’ve told someone else about it.” Sara shook her head. “You’re right about the home computer stuff. I don’t think any company these days allows their employees to keep confidential information in their home unless they can prove it’s sealed up tight.”

“Well…,” Jewel said, “it was secure. I just stumbled onto the pass code.”

“Stumbled,” Sara said. She suspected there were several steps to the stumbling. “This is a serious infringement into police business. You shouldn’t have found it and you need to forget about it. You mustn’t share this with anyone, you shouldn’t even be here.” Sara was in full lecturing mode. “You should probably tell your father…”

“No!” Jewel cried.

“Well, if you won’t do that, at least stop this right now. And please don’t tell anyone else. I hope you don’t have to bring my name up. I really don’t want to know any more about it.” With that, Sara stood up. The pressure in the room had eased as both women understood the crime that was occurring or had occurred. Both had a compulsion to know that had been satisfied but Sara was appalled at what she’d seen. Julia, too, seemed chastened and made no argument when Sara ushered her out. But now she and Jewel were both imprisoned and Sara was afraid the vision would play out in reality.

Sara returned from her memory to catch Jewel just finishing a thought.

“…so it’s clear he’s having a hard time tracking these people down,” Jewel said, “or it couldn’t be taking this long. He’s been working on this since I was three years old.”

Sara didn’t like the sound of that.

“Well,” Jewel went on, “since he’s been doing this alone, I decided to help. The little kids are probably being sold as slaves, maybe right here in Phoenix. So I thought, what can I do that he can’t? Some of these kids are being sold in the sex trade, I’m sure. He’s a big guy and a policeman so he wouldn’t be able to really gain the trust of prostitutes but I could, because I’m a girl. And I’m young, so I might be steered toward the same kind of people that would market little kids.”

Sara groaned, relieved that this idiot child hadn’t been kidnapped onto a boat or plane or just drugged and held in a local room and forced into service. Awful as it was, this smelly jail was much safer than anywhere she could have gained the information she was seeking. She tried to keep her face impassive as Jewel finished her tale.