and pick exactly twenty-one cards.
We watched, hearts in our throats, as she flipped them over one by one.
Sadie continued her own reading. “The jack of diamonds represents Tuck, followed by the three of hearts, which stands for celebrations. And his birthday was on the third of September. I bet Granny didn’t think that was a coincidence.”
She flipped over the next card. The ace of spades. Why did ithold such power? “The closer that ace is to the card that represents Tuck, the sooner the tragedy,” Sadie said.
She flipped over four more cards. The king of spades. The queen of diamonds. The queen of hearts. The joker.
“Look at all these face cards. At the king of spades. He represents someone evil, a man. Or it could be an authority figure.
“The two queens in a row suggest some kind of betrayal. Queen of diamonds could represent Mama—it’s a blond woman—or she could be the queen of hearts—that’s a mother figure. I’m not sure what the joker means.”
Clearly, Sadie had paid more attention to Granny’s readings than I had. As if reading my mind (and maybe she was), she nodded to her laptop and said: “I just gave myself a quick lesson online.”
My favorite reading from Granny included the ace of hearts—love, of course—and a jack of clubs, a promise that I’d meet a mysterious dark stranger. I kept my eye on one of the handsome young migrant workers on our farm all that summer. I blew off her warning about the card that followed—the two of spades. Deceit.
Snap out of this
.
“Sadie, stop. Don’t put another card down. It’s crazy to think these are in the same …” I lowered my voice. “That these are in the same order after all these years.”
Maddie was reaching into the refrigerator, pretending she wasn’t listening.
“It’s morbid,” I continued. “And silly. Tuck had an accident because some stupid, selfish man got drunk. Unfortunately, it happens every day. How do you even remember Tuck’s birthday?”
“Because it’s the same date as his death. Because Granny toldme to stay out of Mama’s way on that day every single year. Didn’t she tell you the same thing?”
She hesitated, picking up the cards.
“I know you believe,” she told me. “You saw the cane.”
“The cane?” Of course I knew what she was talking about.
“The night of Granny’s funeral. Mama let us sleep together in the guest room downstairs, in the big feather bed. In the middle of the night, I woke up. You were sitting there, just staring at the floor. On the carpet, we could see the shadow of Granny’s cane.”
The cane, with a brass snake’s head handle, that our grandfather massaged smooth out of an oak branch. The cane that trudged up and down Bailey Street on Granny’s Saturday walk. The cane that snapped in two when she slipped and broke her hip on the back porch steps two weeks before her death from pneumonia.
“She came to say goodbye, Tommie. It was her way.”
Enough. I changed the subject.
“I saw Jack Smith today. Now he claims to be working on a profile of Anthony Marchetti. He says Mama is messed up in this somehow.”
Sadie looked up from the cards and stared at me. “Do you believe him?”
“Yes … no … he’s not very specific. And he’s a liar. But what about the letter from the woman who claims I’m her daughter? My mysterious Social Security number? Jack Smith says it belongs to some dead girl.”
Maddie handed each of us a bowl of macaroni and cheese and hamburger coagulated with powdery clumps. The wedge of iceberg lettuce was almost hidden by the glop of Hidden Valley Ranch.
“Will you please eat?” she pleaded. “It’s starting to look gross. And y’all are freaking me out.”
Sadie smiled at her. “Just a minute, honey.”
To me, she said, “You need to call Hudson Byrd.”
I woke the next day in my little-girl bedroom after enjoying a dreamless seven hours of sleep thanks to a pink pill I found in Daddy’s medicine
We watched, hearts in our throats, as she flipped them over one by one.
Sadie continued her own reading. “The jack of diamonds represents Tuck, followed by the three of hearts, which stands for celebrations. And his birthday was on the third of September. I bet Granny didn’t think that was a coincidence.”
She flipped over the next card. The ace of spades. Why did ithold such power? “The closer that ace is to the card that represents Tuck, the sooner the tragedy,” Sadie said.
She flipped over four more cards. The king of spades. The queen of diamonds. The queen of hearts. The joker.
“Look at all these face cards. At the king of spades. He represents someone evil, a man. Or it could be an authority figure.
“The two queens in a row suggest some kind of betrayal. Queen of diamonds could represent Mama—it’s a blond woman—or she could be the queen of hearts—that’s a mother figure. I’m not sure what the joker means.”
Clearly, Sadie had paid more attention to Granny’s readings than I had. As if reading my mind (and maybe she was), she nodded to her laptop and said: “I just gave myself a quick lesson online.”
My favorite reading from Granny included the ace of hearts—love, of course—and a jack of clubs, a promise that I’d meet a mysterious dark stranger. I kept my eye on one of the handsome young migrant workers on our farm all that summer. I blew off her warning about the card that followed—the two of spades. Deceit.
Snap out of this
.
“Sadie, stop. Don’t put another card down. It’s crazy to think these are in the same …” I lowered my voice. “That these are in the same order after all these years.”
Maddie was reaching into the refrigerator, pretending she wasn’t listening.
“It’s morbid,” I continued. “And silly. Tuck had an accident because some stupid, selfish man got drunk. Unfortunately, it happens every day. How do you even remember Tuck’s birthday?”
“Because it’s the same date as his death. Because Granny toldme to stay out of Mama’s way on that day every single year. Didn’t she tell you the same thing?”
She hesitated, picking up the cards.
“I know you believe,” she told me. “You saw the cane.”
“The cane?” Of course I knew what she was talking about.
“The night of Granny’s funeral. Mama let us sleep together in the guest room downstairs, in the big feather bed. In the middle of the night, I woke up. You were sitting there, just staring at the floor. On the carpet, we could see the shadow of Granny’s cane.”
The cane, with a brass snake’s head handle, that our grandfather massaged smooth out of an oak branch. The cane that trudged up and down Bailey Street on Granny’s Saturday walk. The cane that snapped in two when she slipped and broke her hip on the back porch steps two weeks before her death from pneumonia.
“She came to say goodbye, Tommie. It was her way.”
Enough. I changed the subject.
“I saw Jack Smith today. Now he claims to be working on a profile of Anthony Marchetti. He says Mama is messed up in this somehow.”
Sadie looked up from the cards and stared at me. “Do you believe him?”
“Yes … no … he’s not very specific. And he’s a liar. But what about the letter from the woman who claims I’m her daughter? My mysterious Social Security number? Jack Smith says it belongs to some dead girl.”
Maddie handed each of us a bowl of macaroni and cheese and hamburger coagulated with powdery clumps. The wedge of iceberg lettuce was almost hidden by the glop of Hidden Valley Ranch.
“Will you please eat?” she pleaded. “It’s starting to look gross. And y’all are freaking me out.”
Sadie smiled at her. “Just a minute, honey.”
To me, she said, “You need to call Hudson Byrd.”
I woke the next day in my little-girl bedroom after enjoying a dreamless seven hours of sleep thanks to a pink pill I found in Daddy’s medicine
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