Forecast (22 page)

“Banana cake,” she offered.

William visibly relaxed. While he was all for equality for women, there was something comforting about a woman who baked. “My favorite.”

Gwendolyn sat, while William went to the sideboard and took out some plates and a knife. Then they both took a moment to savor the cake.

“Delicious,” said William. “Very moist.”

“The secret is organic bananas,” said Gwendolyn.

“Is that so?” Fascinating stuff.

Gwendolyn removed a couple of crumbs from her skirt and placed them back on the plate. “Tell me William, what are you going to do if Georgette dies?”

William looked horrified. “I … I can’t bear to think … do you think she will?”

Gwendolyn leant across and patted his hand. Even the biggest skeptic will be open to a psychic prediction if there’s a chance it’ll produce hope. “She’s a very strong woman and they caught it early.”

They talked for hours, discussing love, loss and the possibility of life after death. He offered up countless reasons as to why it was unthinkable, and she briskly deflected them with intelligent but firm answers as she sipped her Earl Gray.

“The odds are against you, William. The majority of the world believes in reincarnation.”

“Not the Christian world.”

“Actually, reincarnation was removed from the Bible. Such a pity, it ruined a perfectly lovely belief system. More tea?” Gwendolyn poured William another cup. “So you’re a mathematics professor?”

“Yes … a bit dull, I know.” He felt positively bumbling around this gorgeous force of nature. “But I find numbers fascinating.”

“Oh, so do I,” Gwendolyn enthused. “Numerology is a passion. Pythagoras … what a man.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“Believe me, he was,” chuckled Gwendolyn with a wink.

William thought Gwendolyn was the most fascinating person he’d ever met. He liked her immediately and invited her back the following day. And then the next. He thoroughly enjoyed her company and began to trust her and her unusual ideas. She’d revealed insights about his past that were too detailed, too exact, too private for her to have known through any other source other than the psychic talents she was purported to have. Her charm, humor, spirit, and refinement won him over, for no woman who held herself in such a way could ever be considered anything but in full control of her mental faculties, no matter how peculiar they may be.

“Even scientists admit that matter can’t be destroyed, William.”

William nibbled on a biscuit. Lord the woman could bake! “If I set fire to this newspaper it will be destroyed.”

“No it won’t, it will just change form. It’ll become ash.”

“So we are nothing but energy that changes form?”

Gwendolyn nodded and handed him a slice of cake.

William thought about this for a moment. “Gwendolyn, if you’re right then everything I’ve ever believed will be wrong.”

“No William, it too will just change form.”

“What if you’re wrong?"

Gwendolyn brushed some crumbs from the table. “If I’m wrong then I’m from a long line of women who should have been on medication, William.”

Four days later, William agreed to an experiment, to see if his late wife could be contacted. He had no idea that she’d been hanging around since Gwendolyn’s initial visit, possessively at first, but eventually grateful that someone was finally knocking some sense into her oblivious husband. Isabel had been trying in vain to contact him for years. She made the bedroom lights flicker regularly, and from there graduated to ghostly tapping on the walls. But rather than realize he was having a metaphysical experience, William had the house rewired and hired someone to check the roof for squirrels.

Gwendolyn put a great deal of thought into the best way to contact Isabel. William needed to be gently eased into the experience. She decided against the Ouija board, for they often drew in negative energies. She chose a more conservative route for her friend. She made tea, served it in Isabel’s best china—much to the watchful spirit’s approval—and set an extra place at the table.

It was very civilized and not at all creepy. Gwendolyn, William and Georgette all ate cake, drank tea and chatted about dear dead Isabel, during which Gwendolyn called upon her own energies to help Isabel make an impact.

Gwendolyn could see Isabel’s translucent form sitting in her chair. She stared lovingly at her husband and daughter who were unaware of her presence, until the teacup in the fourth place setting began to elevate, as though being lifted by some invisible hand. Then slowly, and ever so gently, the cup was placed back on its saucer.

William sat with his mouth agape, his eyes frantically searching the room for a sign of his dead wife. No one moved. No one spoke. Then without warning a framed family photo, taken years before the disease that was destroying them ever reared its ugly head, lifted off the sideboard and leisurely drifted over to the table and settled in front of William. He felt someone’s hand on his shoulder, like a light, comforting suggestion, a whisper of the past, and perhaps the future now that he’d been shown a different way. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his heart ached and soared at the same time. He knew it was Isabel. He never doubted it for a moment. He could sense her, he could smell her musky scent. Every atom of his being could feel his wife.

Gwendolyn tilted her head as though listening to someone. “Isabel wants you to know, both of you, that when your time comes, she’ll be waiting. But while you have life, you must live it.”

Both William and Georgette nodded and cried and clutched each other’s hand.

“She says she’s here if you need her, although she’s taking opera lessons so sometimes you might have to call loudly.”

William laughed and sobbed simultaneously as he spoke. “She always wanted to be an opera singer. She had a beautiful voice.” His eyes scanned the room, searching, searching … “Isabel, you hear me, you had … you have a beautiful voice. I miss your voice, love …”

Suddenly a ghostly aria rang out through the room. It was brief, but clear and enchanting, each note perfect, echoing as it faded away.

It was then that Gwendolyn broke down as well, for although she mixed within the realms each day, she was only human and such wondrous displays from the world of spirit reminded her of the true majesty of the universe.

Georgette lost all fear of death that afternoon. The experience confirmed all the new and unfamiliar beliefs she was forming regarding death and life and love, the three being so utterly intertwined. She left her father’s home that night to be with Petey. It was all she wanted now. And William was happy to let her go. While you have life, you must live it. That meant both of them.

Petey and Angel were sprawled out on Rowie’s bed, watching as Rowie paced up and down the room.

“Five days ago, everything was perfect. I’d finished my contract on a high. There was a promise of more work. Drew and I were falling … we were getting to know each other …”

“Really bloody well,” Angel added.

“For the first time ever, my life seemed to be on track.” Rowie turned to her friends, hoping they had some answers. “How can everything go from perfect to crap so quickly?”

“It sounds like you and Drew really clicked,” said Petey. “I’m sure he’ll come round, once he gets over his anger.”

“Yeah, but would I want him back after what he’s done?” snarled Rowie.

“So back up a bit.” Angel sat up. She needed to get this straight. “What exactly
has
he done? You still haven’t told us why he’s responsible for all your problems at work.”

Rowie sat on the edge of the bed and collected her thoughts. “Basically, my psychic powers don’t work around him.”

“So these meltdowns are caused by him?”

“Yes. By him being around me.”

“From what your grandmother tells me, your grandfather blocked her clairvoyance as well,” said Petey.

“That’s right,” said Rowie. “And even the one night my parents shared … one reason my mother knows so little about my father is because her powers didn’t work while they were together.”

“Isn’t that a bit inconvenient,” said Angel. “To spend your life with someone who short circuits your gift?”

“It eventually sorts itself out. It’s temporary, when we Shakespeare women first fall in love.”

“Did you tell Drew about this?” asked Angel.

“Hell no! But he seems to realize the effect he has on me. He’s turned up in the studio every day this week.”

“Do you really think he’s doing this on purpose?” Petey hoped Drew and Rowie worked things out. He wanted everyone to be happy, like he was.

“On Monday, no. I don’t think he was trying to sabotage me then. But he must have realized why I had the meltdown on air, because he’s been back every day since, deliberately distracting me.”

“How?” asked Angel.

“On Tuesday he suddenly appeared again, with a big stupid smile on his face. He kept waving at me, like a complete spaz. I just crashed and burned. Once again—no weather.”

“Are you sure he was waving?” asked Petey. “Perhaps there was a fly …”

“He was waving,” Rowie snapped. “Then Wednesday …”

“I saw Wednesday,” Angel admitted. “What was he doing to make you cry?”

Rowie visibly cringed at the memory. “It was so embarrassing.”

Petey tried to placate her. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Yes it was,” Angel blurted, and then gave Rowie’s arm a comforting pat. “Sorry, darl, but I’m not going to lie to you … it
was
awful.”

“He was leaning against one of the monitors, reading a newspaper,” Rowie explained. “And completely ignoring me.”

“What an ass,” Angel muttered.

“But fortunately there was that tornado in Kansas, so you had
something
to report on.” Petey was a glass-half-full kind of guy.

“Absolutely,” Angel agreed. “That was such a big story, it made up for the meltdown.”

“Did he speak to you at all after the show?” asked Petey.

Rowie shook her head. “He sent an intern over to me with the paper and a message. ‘There’s a three day weather report on page D7 … just in case you need it.’”

Angel and Petey shook their heads in disbelief.

“But today was the worst,” moaned Rowie. “He wasn’t there, but I was still nervous. I got through most of the report … talked about the bushfires in California. I started to relax. I seriously thought I’d be able to tune in, uninterrupted. I began … everything seemed okay … my powers worked and I could clearly see a storm … but before I could find out where … I heard a cough.”

“And that broke your concentration?” asked Angel.

“Yes … it wouldn’t normally. But I was already on edge,” Rowie explained. “So I glanced to the side of the studio, and there he was, leaning against the wall, flirting with the gorgeous slut of an intern … punching her number into his cell phone.”

“Bastard!” hissed Angel. “Have him banned from the studio.”

“I didn’t want to go down that path because then everyone will know why.” Rowie put her face in her hands and groaned. “I’ll be seen as another Henderson conquest.”

“Shin said everyone has a fair idea anyway,” Angel offered.

Rowie raised an eyebrow at her friend. “You two seem to talk a lot.”

“No, sweetie, there’s not much talking going on,” Angel smirked.

Rowie threw herself down on the bed. “You’re so lucky! Both of you have found someone special. I thought I had. I even thought he was the one. How pathetic is that?”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic. I think it’s romantic,” sighed Petey, who constantly got PMS with the girls: Pre-Menstrual Sympathy. “What if he is the one?”

“You think we really only have one?” Angel looked horrified at the thought.

“Depends on what you mapped out for yourself prior to incarnating,” explained Rowie. “Some people have several, I only have one.”

“Just one? Out of all the men on the planet there is just one? What if he’s a Bedouin camel driver? How do you know you’ll find him, Rowie?”

Rowie’s green eyes bored into Angel’s blue ones. “Faith Angel. I have faith.”

“You don’t think our desire for a soul mate comes from a steady diet of Hollywood films and sappy romance novels?”

“No. There’s no smoke without fire. True love exists and they capitalize on that. The only damage they do is they make us believe it’s easy. It isn’t, it takes work, even with the right person. Especially with the right person. Hollywood also leads you to believe that everyone only has one true love. Again not necessarily true. I met one woman who had eighteen. But us Shakespeare women, we’re swans. We mate for life.”

“So do tortoises,” said Petey.

“Yeah well, they can’t split up. Imagine them trying to work out who keeps the house,” joked Angel.

“I have to keep the condo, dear, I’m wearing it,” chuckled Petey.

“As much as I’m loving Shin right now, I guess I have loads,” laughed Angel.

“No, you get married twice. I also see the number two for Petey … oh shit, sorry guys.” Rowie apologized, realizing she’d stepped into territory she normally shied away from.

Petey grinned. “Two aye? Well I’m just happy with one …”

Rowie squeezed Petey’s hand. “How is Georgette?”

“She’s good. The chemo is knocking her around a bit, but she’s a trouper.”

“Gran seems to be hanging out with her father a lot,” said Rowie.

“William thinks she’s wonderful. They’re having some sort of séance today. Gwendolyn is definitely making him open up to some new ideas. Georgie is thrilled.” Petey looked deep into Rowie’s eyes. “I would never have consciously chosen this love for myself. But now that it’s here, I intend to embrace it. Perhaps you need to do the same with Drew.”

“Yes, if he turns up in the studio tomorrow, to sabotage me … I’ll give him a hug.”

“He thinks you sabotaged him,” Angel reminded. “One of you needs to swallow your pride and stick out the olive branch.”

Rowie’s green eyes flashed and her redheaded stubborn streak flared. They made quite a combination. “Sure, I agree … but it ain’t going to be me.”