* * *
Large drops of rain, cold and unrelenting, pelt the window and drizzle down the steamy panes. I button my sweater and put a pot of tea on the stove, wondering why on a day like this my client is so insistent on having an appointment. A psychic should know why. I laugh at myself. In a flash I see a woman carrying some sort of bundle in her arms.
The kettle whistles and I fill my tea pot. The client will want a cup, I’m sure. I start a fire to take the chill out of the house and set my tarot cards on the dining room table. The doorbell rings as I light candles.
When I open the door, I am surprised to see an older woman clutching a small baby in her arms and trying to manage a dripping umbrella.
“Mariska,” she says and I usher her in.
“Such a cold miserable day.” I gasp when she reveals the pink angelic face beneath the swaddling of blankets.
“My grandson Chad.” She gives me a sheepish look “He’s very good-natured. He will play quietly on a blanket.”
I smile and touch the baby lightly. “He’s a beauty. Will you have some tea, Mariska?”
“I’d love it. I’m chilled to the bone.”
“Make your grandson comfortable while I get the tea.”
Soon there are steaming cups of black tea on the dining table and little Chad is safely tucked into the back of a large easy chair and cooing over his rattle.
We begin. I close my eyes and request God’s guidance. I let a moment of silence hang between us before I open my eyes. “What troubles you?” Why did you bring a baby out in this weather, I wonder.
She withdraws her hands from mine. “I want a reading for my grandson.”
I pick up the deck of tarot cards and show them to her grandson. He stares, he touches, he tries to grasp. His eyes grow wide as I show him the cards.
“Now we shall see what the cards say.” I shuffle the deck and pull an Ace of Swords and lay it face up on the table. “We will call this card the significator. In relationship with the other cards, it tells us something important about Chad. We will do a Celtic cross layout.”
She stares at the cards as I lay them out and mutter brief explanations—present condition, obstacles or assistance, past influence, possible future . . . My voice trails off. I have lost her. “The relationships of the cards paint a picture. My spirit guides interpret.”
She doesn’t trust me.
I look into her in the eyes. “Your grandson has been consecrated to St. Michael.”
“It is his destiny to carry the sword. He could choose to break this covenant, since it is you who have sworn him to St. Michael, but I think he will not renounce the sword. I want to tell her to breathe. She is so pale. I run my fingers over the cards and glance at Chad’s innocent face. “He is born to the sword. I stab the next card with my finger. “And he will be the Emperor of whatever endeavor he chooses. You will have long left this earth when he comes to manhood.”
She focuses her eyes on mine. She already knows she is dying.
“Let me meditate a moment.” I close my eyes and let the pictures run across the screen of my mind. “Soon the world will be looking for a new home and Chad will be the adventurer-explorer who will lead the way.”
“I am talking about the end of this world and the necessity to find a new world.”
She does not know what to think of such preposterous information. I shrug. It is all too complex to explain. I can hardly wrap my mind around it either. “Rest assured, in the final battle of good and evil, your grandson will be a great warrior.”
She hangs her head and wipes a tear from her cheek.
“It will be okay. He is in St. Michael's hands.” It is enough for her to know.