"I don't know what to believe," she softly told the woman. "What about the other lines at my hand?" Elyse became more curious as the soft glow of wine spread through her.
The old woman smiled. "Their meaning comes from the different parts of a life. The happiness a person will know is indicated in the line very near the heart line."
Elyse laughed with the old woman. "Are there others?"
Zamora shrugged. "Yes. One indicates health and another indicates whether you will know great riches or poverty." Her eyes twinkled. "But wealth can be measured in many ways, can it not? It is not always measured in the amount of gold in one's pocket."
"Tell me more."
Zamora placed another stick of wood on the fire. "You do not believe an old woman."
And oddly enough she did. She just didn't understand all of it.
Zamora stirred the fire, frowning. She'd sensed something in this one the moment she'd laid eyes on her. It was that knowledge of her great-grandmother's that allowed her to see, and there was something about the girl, something otherworldly in spite of the innocence, something sad and almost mournful in her eyes. Ah, yes, Zamora thought, in spite of the youthful beauty, there is a very old soul in this girl.
Elyse extended her hand. "I want to know what you see."
The old woman's eyes narrowed. She sensed that the young woman was being completely honest. She didn't believe in Zamora's powers, but she did not disbelieve either. An open mind was a place to start.
"Very well." Zamora smiled at her. "I will tell you a Gypsy's tale of great love, wealth, and travel to foreign lands."
She filled both their cups with wine, then sat in the chair across the table. With great ceremony, she smoothed back silver strands of hair and the ornate bracelets on her arms. She opened her mind and closed out everything else except this room, the table, and the young woman sitting across from her.
"Give me your hand," she commanded softly, her dark eyes hooded. Her slender, aged fingers were warm from stirring the fire. She cupped Elyse's hand in hers, gently spreading the fingers, until they were relaxed, and then she stared at her palm for a very long time, the silence drawing out in the room.
"No riches, travel, or the love of a handsome stranger?" Elyse said with faint amusement.
Zamora slowly looked up at her. Her dark eyes were filled with a strange light. They were old eyes, ancient, and filled with the secrets they saw.
She wanted to doubt this young woman. It was too impossible, part of an ancient legend handed down from one generation to another of her people. But as she again looked down at the slender hand in hers, she knew it was true. She must find a way to make the young woman understand.
"What do you see?"
Zamora frowned. Again that feeling of coldness seemed to fill the room. But it wasn't the cold, empty feeling that usually came with the forewarning of something dreadful. It was like the mist shrouding the harbor in winter that eventually burned away. No, she thought. There is too much doubt. She will not accept the truth.
"I see wealth, happiness, and travel to a distant land," she stated simply and rose from her chair.
Elyse was certain that she had sensed something almost within her grasp, and then it was gone like the visions in her dreams. She'd thought to humor the old woman, but her own sense of loss was almost unbearable. She couldn't disguise the disappointment in her voice. Perhaps it was that she desperately needed answers when there were none.
"You didn't see anything else?"
Zamora poured water from a huge urn into the simmer pot, then cut up more vegetables and chunks of meat to feed her sons and grandson. She turned, fixing the girl with that penetrating stare. Perhaps this one really did want to know.
"What more could you want than wealth, love, and happiness?" she asked.
"I want to know what you see?"
The old woman returned to her chair. She took both of Elyse's hands, her dark eyes boring into hers.
"Perhaps it is time that you understand." Her hand tightened over Elyse's. Slowly she spread the fingers apart, exposing her palm once more.
"This as I told you, is the heart line." She stopped, staring down at Elyse's hand. "That is very strange. For most people it is often broken. But yours runs very deep. It is long and unbroken. That means you shall have one great love." Zamora hesitated.
"Please, go on. I want to know everything," Elyse persisted.
The old Gypsy nodded and continued. "Here is where the lifeline is usually found." She drew her finger in a wide arc from the inside of Elyse's hand just above her thumb down to the heel of her palm. Then she stopped. Where she indicated, there was no line, only the smooth unbroken plane of smooth skin.
"I don't have a lifeline, and yet here I am, very much alive."
