Blind Sight: A Novel by Terri Persons Page A

the pavement quick,” said Garcia. “Tatts or tummies? Your pick.”
    “The fallen midwife is more urgent. Tatt shop is a long shot.”
    While they waited to cross the street, Bernadette studied the ads and flyers in a storefront window. Our Lady of the Pines Catholic Church gave early notice of its fish-fry dinners. Every Friday night during Lent! The annual polar plunge was coming up in February. A spaghetti supper was being held for a family that had suffered a house fire.
    Bernadette suddenly felt nostalgic for rural life, and the sense of neighborliness that came with living in a small, tight community. At the same time, she had to be pragmatic. Were she working as a cop in Mayberry its citizens would long ago have eviscerated her for being bizarre. Was that the witch’s biggest sin—being odd? What about the midwife? She remembered what might have been the biggest criticism of the two women:
    She’s not from Minnesota originally. She’s from … I don’t know … Vermont, I think .
    She’s not from around here, you know. She’s from Los Angeles .
    Minnesotans. If you weren’t born in the state, you weren’t one of them. At least Bernadette had her birthright going for her.
    Despite the weather, Sonia Graham’s studio was full. About twenty women were packed into the long, narrow room. They were a variety of shapes and sizes, and wore everything from tights to sweats. Bernadette searched for an obviously pregnant belly but didn’t see one. They were all sitting cross-legged on the floor and had their eyes closed.
    Walking the length of the room was the instructor, a big-boned woman with a taut, muscled body that stopped just short of belonging on a female bodybuilder’s circuit. She could have whipped Bernadette’s butt without straining the seams of her spandex, and given Garcia a hard time in a bar fight.
    “Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth,” she told the women as she marched toward the back of the room. Instrumental Christmas music was playing in the background. She turned on the heels of her sneakers and walked toward the front of the room. Noticing Garcia and Bernadette standing at the counter, she smiled and held up her hand while continuing to give instructions to the women. “Gradually deepen the breath. Elongate your spine. Elongate.”
    “I’ll be with you folks in a minute,” she said in a low voice when she reached the two agents. She spun around and returned to the back of the room.
    The woman’s long brown hair was tied back so tightly from her head, it pulled on her eyebrows, giving her a slightly crazed expression. A dark shadow colored her upper lip. Deep and raspy, her voice sounded like that of a man imitating a tough woman.
    “She’s my junior-high gym teacher,” Bernadette whispered into Garcia’s ear.
    “Mine, too,” Garcia whispered back. “And he was a prick.”
    Now the woman stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. “Do our chant.”
    The entire room went, “Ooommm.”
    Someone giggled.
    “Marie,” the instructor said. “That didn’t sound like our chant.”
    The entire room laughed.
    She was back to Garcia and Bernadette. Scrutinizing Bernadette’s jacketed midriff, she asked, “How can I help?”
    Garcia started to answer. “We’re with—”
    “Child!” the woman spouted. “Of course. Congratulations!”
    Bernadette gritted her teeth and said nothing.
    Graham smiled at Garcia. “And this gentleman is … Dad?”
    Before Garcia could answer, the woman turned back to her clients. “Keep chanting.”
    “Ooommm,” hummed the room.
    Behind the woman’s back, Garcia gave Bernadette a sympathetic smile. “You can’t possibly believe you’re even remotely—”
    “I hate this jacket,” Bernadette hissed, unzipping the down. “It makes me look fat.”
    “I’m Sonia Graham,” the woman said, extending her hand to Bernadette.
    “Nice to meet you.”
    Graham trapped Bernadette’s gloved fingers between her