Theresa Weir - Bad Karma

“What’s going on in here?” Cleo demanded.

Macy jumped to her feet and immediately started pointing at three-year-old Carmen. Carmen was sitting on her hands-or rather, sitting on the remote control she held in those hands.

“Mommy and Daddy were up late last night. They need their sleep,” Cleo said. “Instead of watching TV, let’s go see what we can find for breakfast.”

No argument there. Carmen pulled out the remote control, turned off the TV, and ran for the kitchen. “Fruit Loops. I get Fruit Loops.”

Cleo had told Adrian he shouldn’t let his kids eat that sweet stuff. Without thinking, he’d replied, “Just wait till you have kids.” Realizing what he’d said, his face dropped. “Oh, hey. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. And just because I can’t physically have children, that doesn’t mean I won’t have some of my own someday.” But being married, having children, a house, a home, a car, a dog, all of it seemed so unlikely. There were her nieces, though. She would watch them grow. And she would try to make it to some of their school programs. Maybe she would take them ice-skating, or to the zoo. Maybe they would visit her occasionally so Adrian and Mavis could have some time to themselves. But it wouldn’t be the same. Of course it wouldn’t be the same as having children of her own.

The kids dragged out boxes of cereal while Cleo got the milk and orange juice. In the two months that she’d been at her brother’s, she’d gained ten pounds. She could actually look at orange juice without gagging, but she didn’t think she’d ever be able to drink it.

“I’ll pour the juice,” Macy said, retrieving three glasses.

“Cleo wants milk,” Carmen said. “’Cause of her problem.”

“I know that.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Daddy said it’s a secret.”

“Come on, girls,” Cleo said, breaking in. “Don’t argue. If you’re quiet, I’ll take you to the park later.”

They began attending to business like a couple of miniature nuns. Bribery probably wasn’t the way to go, but Cleo had watched her brother and sister-in-law in action, and bribery seemed to be the child-rearing method of choice.

After they finished eating, they cleaned up after themselves, then watched cartoons for another hour. After that they changed clothes in preparation for the park, with Cleo helping Carmen with her little pink Polartec hooded top and tiny hiking boots.

“Are you going to live with us forever?” Carmen asked solemnly, looking directly into Cleo’s eyes. “I want you to.”

“Ah, sweetie, I can’t. I’d like to, but I can’t.”

“Where are you going to go?” Macy asked.

“I’m not sure. Maybe to San Francisco. But I’ll come to visit. And you can visit me.”

Outside, footsteps sounded on the wooden porch. The mail slot opened, then clanged shut. The familiar sound galvanized the girls into action.

“Something for you, Aunt Cleo!” Macy flapped the envelope in the air then handed it to Cleo with a flourish.

There was her name, printed in strong, slanted handwriting. She checked the return address: D. Sinclair.

Daniel.

The dream still clung to the edges of her mind. Now, seeing Daniel’s name, seeing handwriting that must be his, brought the mood of the dream back to her. She knew what the envelope would hold. The ring. The ring she’d left in Daniel’s bedroom that night. The ring Jordan had given her.

She opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of notebook paper, the edges ragged. She unfolded it to find not only the ring, but a note.

Cleo,

I’m enclosing a check to cover the five thousand dollars I took from you. The money is yours, so please cash it. By the time you get this letter, Beau will no longer be single. He and Matilda, the manager of Tastee Delight, are getting married this afternoon. I will be best man, and Premonition is the ring bearer.

In two weeks, I leave for Scotland, and that’s what this letter is really about. I have a friend who bought a castle and is in the process of turning it into a museum. He’s had some break-ins, and asked for my help in securing the premises and retrieving a valuable painting that was stolen. Which leads me to the point of this letter. We are in need of a psychic. Would you be interested?

What followed was his flight schedule.

If you would be interested in this job, meet me at Chicago O’Hare.

Fondly,

Daniel

“Come on, Aunt Cleo! Let’s go to the park.” The children jumped around her feet, tugging, trying to pull her out the door.

“Okay, okay,” she said, laughing.

She returned everything to the envelope then put the envelope on the dresser in Macy’s room. She’d never wear the ring again, but she would keep it forever.

Daniel had deliberately arranged his itinerary so he’d have a three-hour layover in Chicago. Now his flight to Scotland would be leaving soon and there was no sign of Cleo.

Disappointment rocked him. He wondered why he was going to Scotland at all. For years, it had called to him, for years, he’d dreamed of going back, but now the idea held little appeal. For the last two weeks, whenever he thought about being there, those thoughts included Cleo. When he imagined landing at Heathrow Airport, Cleo was there. When they took a train from London to Glasgow, Cleo was there.

He should have called.

No, this way he would know it had really been her choice, with no pressure. And if he’d called, he might have said too much. He might have scared her away. He knew how she was about commitment. He knew that she didn’t want to get close to anyone.

He was a patient man. He didn’t need to tell her he loved her. He only needed to be near her. For now, anyway, that would have been enough. But he hadn’t really considered how it would be if she didn’t come. He hadn’t been prepared for the disappointment and pain.

Restless, he called Beau, promising to call again when he landed in England. As he disconnected, he saw her.

His heart began to hammer. His palms began to sweat.

He could see her hurrying along, eyes scanning the mass of people. Her hair was different. Then he realized it was just cut evenly.

She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. Every bit as exotic, wearing her red lipstick, dangling earrings, and a straight black wraparound skirt that stopped just above her rose tattoo.

Finally her eyes connected with his. Her face lit up. She waved.

He couldn’t move. He shoved his hand deep into the front pocket of his pants so she wouldn’t see how it trembled.

Cleo gave Daniel a huge wave. He didn’t wave back. He didn’t come to greet her, to meet her halfway. And when she caught up to him, he didn’t look surprised or even glad to see her. He just stood there, one hand shoved deep into the front pocket of his jeans, the other gripping a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He looked a little thinner, his hair a little longer, his eyes a little bluer.

“My plane was delayed,” she said breathlessly. “I was afraid I was going to miss the connection.”

“Our flight’s boarding.” He began moving in the direction of their gate.

What was going on? This was so strange. Or had she let herself read something into his offer that wasn’t there? The dream-had the dream caused her to think there was more to their relationship? Wasn’t he just acting like someone who was waiting for an associate?

“How’s your arm?” she asked.

“Almost a hundred percent.”

“That’s good.” Small talk. The talk of strangers.

They got in line to board. “I don’t know if I’m the one for this job,” she said. “I couldn’t even find the key, remember? Why did you ask me? Why not get somebody who’s already in Scotland?”