Once Upon Another Time (30 page)

 “I had the
impression Mother Paula worked out of some hip little studio on a block with
art galleries.”

“There it is,
right across the street between Annie’s Bookstore and Fred’s Pawnshop,” I said,
as I made a sharp right and parked the vehicle.

Laura looked out
the passenger window and peered over her shoulder.  “I’m questioning how safe
this neighborhood is.”  She opened the door and paused, waiting for the
fiftyish looking man who was talking to himself to pass by before she got out. 

“Come on,” I said,
as I looked across the street at the electronic LED sign in the window that
flashed MOTHER PAULA, SPIRITUAL ADVISER/MEDIUM.  Contact Your Dearly Departed,
$55.00.  Black velvet drapes inside the storefront window blocked viewing into
the shop.

A bell attached to
the door jingled as we walked in.  I’d expected the shop to be filled with dark
corners, the smell of burning incense and have ceremonial sickles hanging from
the ceiling.  However, the atmosphere was bright and filled with colorful books
with titles like “A Home for Healing,” “Spiritual Evolution,” and “Powerful Voodoo
Spells.”  An open archway to the left of the front door, led to the attached
storefront of Annie’s Book Store. 

Straight ahead on
the countertop next to the cash register was a point-of-purchase cardboard
cutout sign of Mother Paula’s face with an arrow pointing toward the back of
the shop.  The clerk behind the counter, a young man with blonde spiked hair
and extreme black eyeliner, nodded to us as we passed him.  

Headed toward the
back of the store, we passed displays of spiritual supplies, Catholic saint’s
items, candles, mojo bags, hand-made spiritual jewelry, conditioning oils,
spell oils, voodoo candles, rosaries, and voodoo art.

“I don’t know how
I let you talk me into this,” Laura bristled.

“Oh, look,” I
said, as I waved a
Big Lucky Hoodoo Chicken Foot Charm
in her face.

“Stop it!”  She
grabbed the charm and hung it back on the spinner display.  “Now remember what
you promised me.  You are never to tell a living soul that I ever came here
with you.”

“Hmm,” I mumbled,
as I looked around the corner of the dimly lit hall.  “Guess she must be
upstairs.” 

Laura hugged
herself and nervously looked around as if something evil was about to break
through the walls and grab her as we climbed the rickety, wooden stairs.  “This
really is a bad idea.”

“Stop
complaining,” I told her.

At the top of the
stairs was an old wooden office door with frosted glass.  Black block lettering
outlined in gold on the glass spelled out--MOTHER PAULA.  We walked into the
sparse looking waiting room with creaky hardwood floors and two red velvet
settees.  Lighting in the cramped waiting area consisted of four antique
looking candle wall sconces mounted on either side of two walls.  Behind a
counter lined with various spiritual pamphlets and a sliding glass window was a
reception desk.  I poked my head through the opening, to find the receptionist.

“Look,” said
Laura, as she pointed to a framed certificate that hung on the wall to the left
of where we entered.  “I Hereby Certify,” she read, “that Annie Paula has passed
the Three Levels of Spiritual Attunement.  Oh brother,” Laura said, while
rolling her eyes.

“Interesting,” I
replied.  “Mother Paula must own Annie’s Bookstore.”

A knocking sound
suddenly came from the other side of the wall and a woman’s voice bellowed, “I
feel his vibration, he’s here, and he’s coming closer.  Yes, yes, yes!”

“It’s Antonio!”
called another woman.  “How does he look?  Does he miss me?”

“Hello, may I help
you?” said a flat sounding voice behind us.

We both spun
around on our heels.  An attractive looking thirty-something woman with wavy,
shoulder length blond hair peered back at us.  Wearing a screaming bright
chartreuse shirtdress, with a high flipped up collar, a string of pearls around
her neck, bracelet to match and ten piercings in her ear and one in her nose,
she looked like Cyndi Lauper doing an impersonation of June Cleaver.

“Yes, I’m here to
see Mother Paula,” I said.

“Did you call for
an appointment?”

“Yes.”

The woman walked
through the doorway that led to the desk behind the counter.  “Your name?” she
asked while looking at a computer screen.

“Aubrey McCory.”

“Ah, yes, you
called about your deceased husband.”

 “Uh-huh.”

“And
your
name,” the woman said as she looked at Laura.

“I don’t have an
appointment, I’m just--”

“Actually, she
does have an appointment, sort of.”

“Aubrey, I am
not--” 

“Her name is Laura
Wentworth,” I said, as I handed the woman my charge card.  “I had asked if I
could bring a friend for support.  She’s just going to observe, not
participate.”

“Oh, yes, I
remember,” the woman said, while clacking the buttons on her keyboard. 

A door to the left
of the receptionist creaked open. 

“Grazie, grazie. 
God bless you Mother Paula,” said an elderly Italian woman, as she emerged from
behind the door. 

Mother Paula stood
at the doorway.  “Thank you Mrs. Brandofino, we’ve made great progress.”

Seated behind a
table at Cacey’s party, Mother Paula somehow seemed taller, but her deep black
hair with lightning bolt streaks of gray, and gash of red on her thin, straight
lips was exactly how I’d remembered her. 

“I’ll see you next
week,” she said to the Italian woman, and disappeared into the same room she’d
just walked out of, while closing the door behind her.

“Please have a
seat,” said the receptionist.  “We like to allow five minutes between
appointments for smudging.”

As Laura and I settled
on the settee, I leaned over and whispered, “What’s
smudging
?”

She shrugged her
shoulders and picked up a magazine from a side table.

I did feel a
little silly.  I’d spent my entire childhood thinking my parents were a little
wacked for believing in spirits and fortunetellers.  Yet there I was, hoping to
find answers about Matt, worried he could be stuck between the world of the
living and the dead.  From all my online research and watching reruns of that
woman who talks to ghosts, there was a consensus that when one dies they need
to find their way toward the light.  Perhaps Matt never found his way.  More
mysterious was the fact that Gavin was so much like Matt.  I knew I was
grasping at straws, but Mother Paula
did
know things about my life that
had amazed even a non-believer like me.

“Mother Paula will
now see you,” said Mrs. Cleaver. 

Laura and I
entered a dark room filled with dozens of burning candles in all shapes and
sizes.  The flames created shifting symmetrical patterns across what looked
like ancient jeweled books, prayer scrolls, and artifacts that occupied a wall
of bookshelves.  Glowing incense burners dotted the room, while a mixed aroma
of patchouli and myrrh mingled in the air.  I’d read that psychics burned myrrh
for protection and healing.

A wingback leather
chair sat behind an antique desk, while a surround sound stereo system made it
seem as if softly tinkling wind chimes were coming from every part of the
room.  The sound I’d hear whenever Matt’s spirit used to be somewhere close to
me. 

Rich looking
tapestry drapes hung across one full wall, which I’d assumed were covering
windows to block out the daylight.  A round séance table draped in gold lame′,
at which Mother Paula sat, was in the center of the room.  Two empty chairs
flanking either side of the table looked as if they were leftovers from a
misplaced dining room set.  The ensemble didn’t match the rest of the décor. 

I’d heard of
celebrity athletes who were superstitious and wore the same article of clothing
they’d worn the very first time they’d won a game, in hopes of it bringing them
good luck for sequential games.  Maybe it was Mother Paula’s lucky table and
chairs from years ago.

Dressed like a
businesswoman about to conduct a boardroom meeting, she raised a nicely
manicured hand and gestured toward the miss-matched dining room chairs. 
“Please, sit.” 

Her attractive
clothing and expensive looking jewelry, told me she could afford a swanky
downtown office.  However, I could understand the charm of the old neighborhood
and bookstore that gave her business perfect ambiance. 

 “I remember you,”
Mother Paula said softly, as her dark raven-like eyes studied me.  “I was on a
tight schedule that day with all the women I had to read, but I had hoped to
spend more time with you.  I feel as if we share similar gifts.”

Laura stifled a
laugh.  “You two have something in common?”

By “gifts,” I knew
she meant my ability to see spirits and read minds.  It wasn’t until that
moment it occurred to me that somewhere along the way I’d lost both gifts. 
Nevertheless, I had to change the subject quickly, as I didn’t want Laura
asking more questions.

“So, how about we
get right into the reading?”

Mother Paula’s
eyes widened as she peered at Laura.  “Would you mind removing your elbow from
the table and scooting your chair back slightly?” she said as she waved a hand
over the table.  Her platinum bangle bracelets jingled and glistened in the
candlelight.  “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but don’t touch anything.  It could
cause karmas to mingle which would completely throw off the reading.  I hope
you understand.”  She narrowed her eyes, her expression somber.

Laura gave me that
ha-ha-I-now-have-an-excuse-to-leave look.  “I’ll go wait out in the reception
area,” Laura said in a chipper tone as she stood up from her seat. 

I grabbed her
arm.  “Sit down.  I need you here with me.  I know you think this is a bunch of
bologna.  I did too.  No offense,” I said as I glanced at Mother Paula.  “But I
need a witness.  Think of it this way.  If nothing comes about through the
reading, you’ll get to tell me I was wrong.  That should be a reward in itself.”

Laura gazed upward
as if the answer to her decision to stay or go were floating above her head. 
“Fine,” she huffed, as she sat back down.

Mother Paula
shuffled the deck of tarot cards.  “You are here because you have questions
concerning your deceased husband?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. 
“Please cut the deck.”

I removed the top
half of the cards and placed them on the glistening gold lame′ table
cover sparkling with candlelight.  Mother Paula took the remaining cards, set
them on top of mine, and let them sit in the center of the table.

“If you recall
from your last reading, we will begin by closing our eyes.  I want you to think
about questions, things you want to know.  Try to connect with your soul, your
spirit,” said Mother Paula, as she closed her eyes.

“It’s so dark in
here I can barely see,” said Laura as she rummaged through her purse.

 I closed my eyes
to concentrate on Matt and whether his spirit was somehow lost between two
parallel universes.  And why would Gavin be uncannily like Matt in his
mannerisms, right down to the caveman way he’d hold his spoon when digging into
a bowl of cornflakes or why would he feel I was someone he’d known from the
past.  How could he have recalled being on Matt’s sailboat, when that is
impossible?

Upon opening my
eyes, to let Mother Paula know I was ready, I caught her looking at me with a
penetrating stare.  A look of mystery pooled in her eyes, while shadows from
the candle flames flickered across her face.  Although I’d felt relieved after 
it occurred to me that I’d lost my mind reading abilities, staring into her
eyes, I wished I’d known what she was thinking. 

“Are you ready to
begin?” she asked.

“Whenever you
are.”

Mother Paula
shuffled the cards and fanned them out.  I chose six cards from the deck.

“Hmm,” she hummed
as she flipped over the first card with a picture of two knights.  “I see two
men.  There is a struggle of some sort.  One of them is being dishonest.  Do
you currently have two men in your life?”

I glanced at Laura
whose eyebrow shot up as if to say,
well, do you, or do you not have two
men?

Tricky question I
thought and asked, “Would that include the dead?” 

Laura’s dramatic
sigh made me want to slap her. 

“What do you
expect?” I said, while glaring at her.  “I’m here to get answers about Matt and
besides--”

“Excuse me,”
Mother Paula interrupted.  “Both men are very much alive.”

“Ha!”  Laura
laughed.

“That’s
impossible,” I said, while feeling a tingly, strange feeling creep through my
bones.

Even Mother Paula
looked confused.  “Let’s look at the next card.  It’s the
justice
card,
meaning the past creates the future.”  She paused.  “Now I only see one man, a
tall handsome man with very dark hair.  Ah, I recall seeing this man in my mind
the last time I’d read you.  This man is your soul mate, is he not?”

I nodded and
glanced at Laura with an I-told-you-so look on my face knowing that Laura
caught the drift that Mother Paula was talking about Gavin. 

“Your past relates
to him directly.” 

“How so?”

“It has something
to do with your deceased husband.  I have strong feelings about an unusual
connection between the two men.”

“The last time I
saw you, you told me that they were one in the same.”

“Yes, because
that’s how I see them.  Did they know each other?”

“No, but an odd
thing happened the other day.  Gavin had a memory of being on a sailboat, but
said he’d never been on one.  More surprising was he remembered the name of the
sailboat, which happened to be my husband’s sailboat.”

The furrow between
her brows deepened.  She leaned forward.  “I’m certain of two things.  Your
boyfriend does not have psychic abilities and he had at one time, or another,
met your husband.  Let’s read the rest of the cards and see if answers
surface.”