Kisses To Go. Irene Peterson
wore borrowed clothes that fortunately were nearly the right size, loaned to her by a genuine English lady. And she was having the time of her life!
The streets were swarming with people, the day being only partly cloudy. Today was Good Friday and they were on holiday. Abby thought back to a time when she and her mother would have been getting ready for Easter Sunday’s meal, making pastries and dying eggs and getting a basket of food ready to be blessed.
Now, older and less caught up in holidays, she was blissfully touring the unfamiliar countryside in a two-wheeled cart, straight out of Jane Eyre or The Quiet Man. Evidently the English weren’t beating their breasts in church, either, for the small town of Glastonbury hummed with activity. Those on the high street who spotted Tish waved to her, some calling out greetings, a few young people mockingly razzing her about her mode of transportation.
“I usually take the Vauxhall,” she offered in explanation. “I got ticketed for speeding last week, and everybody in town knows about it. In fact, I have to take care of the fine, er, before somebody tells my brother. I can do it today if you don’t mind.” Her cheeks wore the pink of embarrassment, but her smile showed Abby that she wasn’t the least bit repentant.
Abby couldn’t take it all in. This spoke to her historian heart. This was what she’d longed to see! The town was ancient and brown. Stone buildings reflected a time long, long ago, probably during the Middle Ages. Dates carved into the solemn front walls were unbelievably old, from a time when America hadn’t even been discovered by the Spanish. The Vikings might have known it existed, but no one else in Europe would have.
But she noticed that not all the stores were drab and stuffed with tweeds and Stilton cheese. Some sported colored flags and swags in rainbow hues. Over their welcoming doors hung wooden signs proclaiming New Age crystals and Arthurian blades, while bright figures darted in and out, definitely wearing costumes with an Arthurian flair to them. Abby was reminded of knights and fair damsels—exactly the notions the shopkeepers wanted to impart to her. Somebody was on the ball, marketingwise, around here.
Then a woman stepped out of a sleepy little shop with a half door and waved to her. Abby looked at the stranger who had long, light hair and huge, light eyes. Not knowing a soul in England, she turned to ask who the woman was, but Tish was busy negotiating the pony cart. When Abby turned back, the woman had disappeared. With a defeated roll of her shoulders, she resumed sightseeing.
The horse clip-clopped into a small car park. Tish drew in the reins and stopped the cart.
“Here we are!” She laughed. “Why don’t you take a look around the shops while I take care of unpleasant business?”
Trish secured the pony and took off down the street. Abby didn’t hesitate but went straight to find the woman who had deliberately caught her attention.
Heavy wrought-iron and wooden signs marked the various shops along the high street. She remembered seeing the sun and moon behind the woman. The store had no huge glass window displaying whatever goods it sold, but it did have a bell that tinkled a warning when Abby passed through the door.
Normal stopped at the threshold. Long glass counters displayed jewelry, rocks and crystals, books with paper jackets and some bound in leather. Strange piping music swirled around her while thick incense scented the air, but nobody was home. She turned to leave when a woman stepped from behind a curtained-off area.
“Welcome, traveler.”
At first Abby thought someone had come in behind her. The woman smiled while Abby swiveled around. Feeling caught, Abby smiled sheepishly in return.
“Hello. Mind if I look around?”
“Not at all. If you see anything that catches your fancy, let me know.”
Like she could afford to spend any money. But she felt compelled to look around. Most of the stuff meant nothing to her. Decks of Tarot cards she recognized but had no idea of their meaning. The crystals, ranging in color from clear to black, with every color in between, glittered in the showcase. There were pendants and bracelets and lots of marbles with dragons wrapped around them.
She stopped in front of the crystal pendants again. The woman slid gracefully behind the counter.
“They all have meanings, you know.”
Abby started at her voice but recovered quickly.
“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about this stuff. I just think the stones are pretty.”
Removing the one Abby had admired from the case, the woman offered it to her. “Feel it. Put it in your hand.”
Reluctantly, she accepted the ribbon that held the stone. As soon as the crystal touched her, it started to vibrate. At least, that’s what Abby felt. Too weird.
“Ah. You picked wisely.”
Abby gave it back. “It’s lovely, but I’m afraid I haven’t any money.”
“You know, the English have an aversion to the word free. One can leave out a basket of goods with a sign on it saying ‘take one’ and at the end of the day everything is still there.”
Abby laughed. “Back home in the States, ‘free’ is a sure way to bring in crowds.”
The woman nodded, started to turn away, then came back again. “Would you object to a reading? Free? Gratis?”
“A reading?”
“Your aura is so strong, but I’m sure you must know that. I feel a link here. Would you mind?” The woman, whose blue-green eyes searched Abby’s own, smiled gently. Abby didn’t know what a “reading” entailed, but she was curious enough to go along unless or until things got weirder.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” she began.
“This won’t take long, my dear.”
With a languid, subtle gesture, she beckoned Abby behind the curtain. All very mysterious, all kind of intriguing. Shaking her head, Abby thought Why not? and followed.
Two chairs and a beat-up wooden table filled the room. To her disappointment, there were no astrological charts or wooden palms marked with named lines. No crystal ball, either, but a red scarf across the top of the table and a chunk of rock.
“I don’t read palms or crystal gaze, my dear, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Abby gave a start. Had the woman read her mind?
In response, the lady loosed a low, rippling laugh. “If I tell you I can sometimes read minds, would you believe me?”
“Guess I’d have to.”
She indicated a seat. “Please, sit and relax. It makes it easier for me to do my ‘thing.’”
Her voice was light, cheery. Abby sat, shifting a bit, twitching her lips to keep from smiling, and rested her hands with hesitation on the table.
“What are you going to ‘read’?”
Taking the other seat, the woman stretched out her hand and ran it about two inches above Abby’s face and shoulders, her gaze never lifting from Abby’s.
“Your aura. Now, don’t flinch. I sense such strength in you, dear.”
Abby shook her head. “Not me. I’m not strong. People walk all over me.”
“Ah. But things have changed. You’ve taken a big step. You’re talented, but you must know that. You have an old soul. You have abilities you have yet to realize.”
All well and good, Abby thought. It was nice to know she had talent because when she got home, she was going to have to start all over again showing what she could do. She shuddered.
The woman had to have noticed this. Her tone lowered, drawing Abby in. “You’re going to fall in love with a prince. You’re one who can tame dragons. Such strength! You have power in your hands, in your being, but you don’t even recognize it. Not yet.