Julia's Future by Linda Westphal

 
     
    Julia’s
Future a short
story
     
     
    by
    Linda Westphal
     
     
    SMASHWORDS EDITION
     
    ********
     
     
    Julia’s
Future a short
story
     
    Copyright © 2010 Linda Westphal
     
     
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    ********
     
     
    Julia’s
Future a short
story
     
    The room is not at all what I thought a
psychic’s office would look like. It resembles a common Southern
parlor, not an office. The rich, dark antique furniture warms the
room on this cool October day, as does the heavy rust-red paint on
the south wall.
    My hands shaking, I take a slow, deep breath
in and let it out even slower to force myself to relax.
    What am I doing
here? I wonder. Did
I really want a glimpse of my future?
     
    *****
     
    A Savannah Police Department detective, Rory
Cavanaugh, introduced me to Lily a year ago when she was asked to
help solve the Carie Dunne murder case. Most of the detectives
respected Lily because of her reputation for solving murder cases
in Atlanta and New York City, but Rory thought the detectives had
done sloppy work and overlooked clues that Lily easily noticed.
Nevertheless, he didn’t put up a fuss when the Captain insisted he
find out what Lily knew about the Dunne case.
    Lily came to the meeting prepared. We were
surprised when she announced she had a message for Rory – from
Carie.
    Lily looked intently at Rory, waiting for
him to meet her gaze. “Carie has been trying to show you clues, to
help find her killer,” she said.
    “Is that so,” Rory said with no emotion.
    “She is frustrated with you,” Lily
continued. “She doesn’t understand why a detective would not listen
to his inner voice or trust his instincts when they tell him to
push a clue a little harder.”
    Rory snorted in response.
He shot a look at the Captain that said Are
you kidding me?
     
    *****
     
    A woman enters the parlor. “Hello, Julia,”
she says, locking eyes with me for a few seconds. “I’m Lily.”
    All I can do is smile. She turns and closes
the tall, wooden French doors. We are completely alone. I sense she
is a kind person, but can’t shake my fear of the unknown and what
I’m about to hear.

    “Thank you for waiting,” she says, and sits
in a Queen Anne chair next to the sofa where I’m sitting.
    “Hello,” I reply, softly.
    “Don’t be afraid,” she assures me. “All is
well.”
    I try to smile as I brush an imaginary wisp
of hair off my forehead. I tell myself to get it together. I trust
Lily. There’s no reason for me to be afraid of what she has to
say.
    Lily picks up a brilliant rough-cut purple
amethyst from the table next to her chair and warms it in her hand.
She closes her eyes and appears to be using the stone to tap into
wherever she goes to hear messages from the Other Side.
    A few minutes go by, she opens her eyes and
says to me, “Everyone has what I call a spirit guide. Your spirit
guide is with you from the day you are born, and his or her purpose
is to help you with your life mission and keep you on the right
track.”
    I do my best to hold it together, but the
tears come anyway. I tell her I feel so alone. I say no one
understands what it’s like to lose a partner in the prime of your
life. I explain that I’m grateful for people’s kindness but their
looks of pity and relief that it’s my bad fortune and not theirs
makes it worse.
    Why did this happen? It’s not normal for a
man to collapse and die at the age of 30; it’s not normal for a
woman to become a widow at 27; and, it’s not right for a
two-year-old boy to be left without a father. The more I think
about it, the more I realize my agony lingers because I