“Let me guess, I’m a tortured soul, and next week I’m going to see a blue bird and that blue bird’s going to represent a dead family member of mine who is there to tell me to be at peace with my soul.”
The ends of Glory’s mouth edge up—sarcastic and dry. “It’ll be a black bird, actually, and the bird will not bring peace to your soul. The sight of it will trouble you.”
Another keen observation based on things every person in town already knows—my soul is always troubled.
“You believe you are cursed.” Glory watches me as if she sees more than what exists. “Is it so hard to stretch your belief in the Lachlin curse to thinking there are those of us who possess a supernatural gift?”
“I’m cursed,” I say, “because I have to listen to you spew lies about spirits beyond the grave.”
While Gran isn’t paying attention, Glory has the balls to smirk at me.
“Give her your hand,” Gran presses.
“Gran,” I start to protest, but she holds up her hand, stopping me.
“I did something to help you,” Gran whispers, and my heart stops beating. “I want to make sure I made the right decision.”
I push off the wall, and the front legs of the chair hit the floor with a crack. “What did you do?”
“Let her read your palm,” Gran says, and as I open my mouth to argue, she raises her voice to a tone I haven’t heard in weeks. “Let her read your palm!”
I put out my hand, palm up, forcing Glory to come to me. She crosses the cramped room. I can’t maneuver without ramming into a piece of furniture, but Glory breezes past it all and takes my hand in her smaller one.
“What’s his future?” Gran asks.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Any more ridiculous than the curse?” Glory whispers so only I can hear. “I know what you really believe, and I know how you think you can break the curse.”
I go to snatch my hand back, but Glory keeps a firm grip. Gran’s watching us intently, so to appease her, I stay still. Glory’s fingernail, painted blood red, follows a long line at the center of my palm, then traces the dissecting smaller ones.
“He will be tested,” Glory says in a far-off voice. The perfected one she does for effect.
“Yeah. I start school next week. Tests happen.” Especially for a senior.
Glory ignores me, and Gran coughs, the rasping sound scraping the inside of my skull. “I know this. Tell me what I want to know.”
“This is more. The universe has decided to take advantage of your plan.”
A sickness sloshes in my stomach. “What did you do, Gran?”
My uncle has been here more than normal. Paperwork in his hands every time. Gran told me she was updating her will. She told me she and my uncle were protecting me. I assumed it was to close some legal loopholes involving me being a minor and inheriting the land. I silently curse, because I should have been smarter and asked for specifics.
Glory’s eyebrows knit together as she narrows her gaze on my palm.
“Trying to see what I had for dinner?” I mumble.
“Jesse’s future is unclear, Suzanne.”
“Because you’re a fake,” I whisper, but I give her credit. She never loses her focus.
“Jesse is a volatile soul. You know this. Unless he has a clear understanding of who he is, I can’t see what his choices will be.” Her forehead furrows now, as if watching my palm is causing her pain. All of which I don’t buy.
“Did I make a mistake?” Gran asks as a wheeze. “Will he lose the land?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell.”
My entire body jolts as if struck by electricity. I yank my hand away from Glory’s grip and turn my attention to Gran. “Why are you asking about the land? Why would I lose it?”
Gran’s chest rises, and then she blows out a breath. A breath that’s too long. A breath that’s too final. Johnny Cash begins the chorus of her favorite song, and that craziness in my head becomes a scream in my ears as I wait for her to inhale again.
Johnny’s deep voice croons about sunshine, and as if in slow motion, Gran’s eyelids shut.