Seasons of the Fool (5 page)

“Well,” she began, “I guess the biggest revelation was that I’ve been running since my parents died. I never thought about it before, or not consciously. But I met Lance when I was grieving, and I think now that I latched onto him because he seemed strong. Maybe I was looking to replace my parents,” she mused.

“People have gotten into relationships for worse reasons,” said Ms. Thea.

Julia nodded. “Anyway,” she said, deciding not to mention Jesse at all, “then I stepped off a cliff. I mean, in my vision, or whatever it was.”

The older women exchanged significant glances. “Was there a little dog with you, by any chance?” asked Ms. Elsie.

Julia blinked. “Yeah. It was weird – I couldn’t tell whether the dog was holding me back or trying to push me over the brink.”

The women looked at one another again. “The Fool,” said Ms. Elsie.

“Yes,” said Ms. Thea.

“What does that mean?” Julia asked.

“The Fool is the first card in the Major Arcana of the Tarot deck,” Ms. Thea said.

“Okay,” Julia said slowly. “I mean, I’ve heard of Tarot cards. But I don’t know anything about them.”

“We can do a reading for you,” said Ms. Elsie eagerly.

“No, really, that’s okay,” said Julia, holding up her hands. “I’ve never been into any occult stuff. I just want to know why you think I’m a fool.”

The women laughed kindly. “No, no, dear. You’re not a fool,” said Ms. Elsie. “Not at all.”

“There’s an exercise one can do with the Major Arcana,” Ms. Thea explained. “It’s called the Fool’s Journey. What you do is take the cards in order, one each month, and meditate on what that card means to you. There are twenty-two Major Arcana cards in the deck, so the process takes nearly two years. It can be quite revelatory.”

Julia politely shook her head. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Ms. Elsie said, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. Then she softened her tone. “What I mean is, your experience in the labyrinth shows that you’ve already begun the journey. If you don’t want to do the monthly card meditations, that’s up to you. But just be aware that the next two years will be life-changing for you.”

“You can say that again,” Julia said, staring out the windows at the back of the house. It was nearly full dark; she could just barely make out the outlines of the trees behind the house. She stood and turned on a lamp, blotting out the view of the backyard.

As she resumed her seat, Ms. Thea asked, “What happened when you stepped off the cliff?”

“I fell,” she said simply. “But two things slowed my fall: my writing, and the editing job I had in college. I think that was a sign that I should look into picking up some editing work. God knows I’ll need money to live on, and I won’t be able to rely on Lance’s support payments for much longer.” Her face twisted.

“When you fell,” Ms. Thea asked, and paused. “When you fell,” she repeated, “did you…land?”

Julia looked up at her. “Yeah. That’s what threw me out of labyrinth.”

“Where were you when you landed?” asked Ms. Elsie.

Julia raised her hands, palms up. “Right here.”

Ms. Thea let out a breath. “Good,” she said. “That’s very good news. You’re right where you’re meant to be.”

“Was there anyone on the ground with you?” Ms. Elsie asked. Again, the two women wore an air of hopeful expectation.

“Maybe,” she said. “I saw some people as I was falling, like they were waiting for me. But I was falling pretty fast and their faces were blurred.” She looked from one to the other of her interlocutors. “You two might have been there.”

“Any men?” Ms. Elsie asked.

A laugh burst out of Julia. “God, I hope not,” she said.

“But there were other figures on the ground,” Ms. Thea said. “How many? Do you remember?”

Julia thought back to that harrowing free-fall. “Two, maybe?”

“And they could have been men?”

She shrugged. “I suppose. I really don’t know. Look, why are you asking me this?”

“Oh, no reason,” Ms. Elsie said, almost too innocently. “We’re just trying to help you understand what you experienced.”

Julia narrowed her eyes. But her stomach chose that moment to growl, startling them all into laughter. “What I understand right now is that it’s suppertime,” she said. “Would you like to stay? I can knock something together pretty fast.”

“Oh, no,” said Ms. Elsie, as the women rose. “Thank you for asking, but another time.” They each patted her hand as they made their way out.

Julia followed them to the door, and closed it behind them. Then she leaned her back against it.
Dear God. I think they fancy themselves matchmakers or something. The last thing I need right now is a man in my life.
She banged her head back against the door and let out a breath. Then she headed for the kitchen to see about supper.

~

As soon as the women got home, Elsie went straight to her loom. She studied the weaving there and sighed.

“She’s not ready yet, is she?” Thea said.

“No,” Elsie replied. “But I don’t think it will be long.”

~

The following Saturday dawned clear, but chilly. Julia donned a Northwestern University sweatshirt and headed out the back door to get a rake from the shed. The door made its usual squeal of protest, and she made another mental note to find someone to take care of it.

She had seen Mr. Starek cast a baleful glare on her unkempt yard more than once that week, so she decided to start in the front. Not that she valued the cranky old man’s opinion of her. But she did care about the face she showed the world, at least a little bit. She supposed it was a holdover from the days when she fancied herself an actress, and reinforced subsequently by Lance’s need to live the life of a jetsetter – or at least to look like he was living that life.

She had cleared the leaves from the erstwhile flower bed in front of the house when she heard a familiar voice from the street. “Looking good!”

She turned in her crouch and grinned at Dave as he came up the walk. “Thanks, but I’ve just started.” She glanced around the yard as she straightened, sweeping stray strands of hair back from her forehead. “There’s so much more to do. Why do we have so many trees around here, anyway? Maybe I’ll have them cut down.” It was an old joke between them, born of too many autumn weekends spent raking for their families.

“Not a bad idea,” she said. “I guess we’d miss them in the summer, though.”

“You’ve mellowed in your old age,” she teased. “Last time we had this conversation, you were ready to go crazy with a chainsaw.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I have,” he allowed. “Need a hand?”

“Yes, please,” she said. “There’s another rake in the shed. And I need to get at those vines over the driveway, too.”

“I’ll trim them for you,” he offered as he followed her around to the backyard.

“That would be great,” she said. “I’ll have to help you with your yard in return. Or don’t your trees drop their leaves?”

He grinned. “I have a lawn service. It keeps the place looking lived-in when we’re not here. I can hook you up with them, if you want.”

She thought of her dwindling bank balance. “No, thanks. That’s okay. I need the exercise.” She pulled open the shed door and handed him the spare rake and the pruning shears.

He ran a critical eye over the shears. “I hope I don’t knock too much rust off of these. It may be the only thing holding them together.” He grinned at her. “Got any bags for the clippings?”

“Right. Yes. Inside.” She pushed hard on the back door, and it made its familiar screech of protest.

“Yikes,” he said, wincing. “Let me send my guy over to fix that for you this week.”

She gave him a grateful look. “That would be awesome. Finding a handyman is on my to-do list, but it keeps getting bumped back.” She went inside and retrieved the box of bags from under the kitchen sink.

“No problem,” he called. “His name’s Ron Gorski.” He winced again as she emerged from the house and pulled the door shut again. “Yeah, you really need to get that fixed. I’m a little worried that the door will swell up this winter, and you won’t be able to open it at all.”

She glanced back at it, newly concerned. “I never thought of that. Okay. Give me his number. I’ll give him a call Monday.”

They pulled out their cell phones and made the exchange. Then Dave said, “You know, Jule, when I got here and said it was looking good, I didn’t mean your raking job.”

“Oh? So you’re criticizing my technique now?”

He ignored the joke. “What I meant was I was glad to see you.” He was not that much taller than her, and he seemed to look right into her eyes. “This place hasn’t felt right without you here.”

“I know what you mean,” she said. “When I pass your place during the week, it seems wrong – too empty. Like something’s missing.”

“Welcome home,” he said, grinning.

“Same to you,” she said. “Now get busy, mister. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

~

Given her experience with repairmen over her years of maintaining multiple residences in Chicago, she was sure it would take forever to get hold of Ron Gorski. But to her surprise, he returned her voicemail immediately, and was willing to come by the following day.

He showed up early on a drizzly Tuesday morning, in a pickup truck laden with ladders and cabinets that seemed to contain every possible kind of tool and part known to man.

“Nice truck,” she said as she let him in the front door.

He gave her a confident smile. “Thanks. I only wish it was mine.”

“You work for Ames Construction?” she asked, reading the sign on the side of the truck as she closed the front door.

“Yeah. We’re doing some work for Mr. Turner up the street. But since it’s raining, we got the day off.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.” He flashed her a brilliant smile. “Where’s your problem door?”

She showed him, and then settled into the living room with her laptop and a cup of coffee. He traipsed in and out a couple of times to get his tools, and then set to work.

When she had read the same web page four times, she tried to tell herself that it was the scraping sound of the plane on the door that was distracting her. But no, it wasn’t that – or it was only partly that. Mainly, it was Ron. He was gorgeous – tall and ripped, with short dark hair and a neat mustache. He worked with an unconscious grace that mesmerized her.

At one point, he glanced over at her and gave her another megawatt smile. She realized that he knew exactly the effect he was having on her, and hurriedly turned back to her laptop.

When he was done and the back door opened and closed effortlessly, she wasn’t quite ready to let him leave. So she asked him to check the newel posts in the loft, as at least one of them had seemed wobbly to her. He shored it up for her quickly, and gave her a view of his backside that she was pretty sure she’d be dreaming about for the next several nights.

“Anything else?” he asked as he came down the loft ladder, tool belt clanking with each step.

“I can’t think of anything right now.”
More’s the pity.
“But if I do, I’ll call you.”

“Sounds good.”

She reached for her purse. “What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing.”

She froze in the act of pulling out her checkbook. “Oh, come on.”

He shrugged. “Mr. Turner told me to put it on his bill. Take it up with him.”

So Dave thought she needed taking care of, did he? She didn’t know whether to be grateful or insulted. “I will,” was all she said. “Listen, thanks very much for everything.” She walked Ron to the door. “This house is pretty old, so I expect I’ll have to call you again before too long.”

“You do that,” he said, and gave her another smile. Half out of the door, he hesitated. “There
is
one thing you could do to repay me.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Have dinner with me tonight.” Another million-dollar smile.

Oh, God. Really?
She stopped just short of rolling her eyes. “Look, I’m flattered,” she said, “but I’ve got a lot going on right now, getting a new business off the ground. Maybe another time.”

“What kind of business?”

“I’m an editor.” It felt good to say it aloud to another human being. It made it seem more real. “Some copy editing, but mostly developmental work.”

His blank look told her all she needed to know about his knowledge of the publishing business. “Sounds interesting,” he said.

Sure, it does.
“Thanks again,” she said. “I’ll call you when something else breaks.”

“You do that,” he repeated. “And I’ll call
you
another time.” He winked at her. Then he turned toward his truck.

She couldn’t help herself – she watched him get in, wave to her, and drive away. Only then did she close the door. “That,” she said to the empty room, “is the absolute last thing I need right now.”

~

She called Dave that evening after supper. “How’d it go with Ron?” he asked.