Page 27 of A Ghost of a Chance

“She don’t give refunds if you don’t like your fortune. Now go!”

“No, that’s not it. Please, it’s very important I speak with her. She may be the only one who can help me. I’m willing to pay her well for only a few moments of speech with her.”

Low voices murmured as if conferring. Rafe held his breath. Several heartbeats later, the fortune teller stepped out from a nearby wagon.

Less bejeweled than the last time he’d seen her, and her hair coiled up at the nape of her neck, Madam Miska strode toward him. “You are a strange man to venture into our camp.”

Rafe bowed as if he were greeting a duchess. “Madam, thank you for seeing me. If you recall, you read my palm last year.”

Nodding, she chuckled. “I remember you. It seems the unbeliever believes, now. You said you have coin for me?”

Rafe fished one out and flipped it to her. She examined it, tucked it away, and gestured to a fallen log sprinkled with mushrooms.

After they sat, she looked at him shrewdly from beneath thick lashes. “What is this that is so important that you must have speech with me?”

Rafe had already rehearsed what to say to her so he wouldn’t blurt out the chaotic thoughts in his head, which would surely make him seem a bedlamite. “Tell me more about what you meant when you said I was haunted by many ghosts, some from within, some from without. And when you said, and I quote: ‘You have it within your grasp. But only when you live true to yourself will you find your heart’s desire, the mate for your soul, and free you both from the chains that bind you each to your solitude. Free yourself, free her. Find love.’”

She lifted her brows and cocked her head to one side.

He explained, “I remember every word I hear or read.”

“A unique gift.”

“Please, I must know more. What did you mean?”

“I regret that I have no additional knowledge. I utter the words the spirits give me. Sometimes, they tell me nothing and I am left to offer vague predictions based on what I observe of the person and what many wish to hear. But in some cases, such as yours, these exact words were placed in my mouth.”

He chewed on that information. Then he came to a realization that had nothing to do with what he sought. “You speak extraordinarily good English, especially compared with how you spoke last year at the celebration.”

She grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Yes, it all adds to the mystique, and sometimes we must play a role to meet expectations. But you understand that, do you not?”

“I do.” During the war, he had maintained the demeanor of a strong, decisive leader even when fear and uncertainty chilled his blood. He studied his hands clasped in front of him. “The ghosts you mentioned were figurative rather than literal?”

“Ah.” She nodded. “The ghosts I mentioned were both literal and figurative. I saw the spirit of the young lady with you both this year and last.”

He shot to his feet. “You did? You saw her?”

“Fair hair, very pretty.”

“You knew she was a ghost?”

She shrugged. “It is not terribly uncommon for me to see departed spirits, especially on that night. I have the ‘sight’—in more ways than one.”

Someone else had seen Osanne. That niggling fear he was going mad quieted. He resumed his seat. “She’s been dead for over fifty years.”

“And you care for each other.”

“We do.” More than he thought his hardened, damaged heart could bear. Her affection for him felt more real than a living woman’s—and not because only he could interact with her. “How can I free us from the chains that bind us?”

“That I do not know. It is something you must discover.”

“Can’t you ask your spirits?”

She spread her hands. “I could perform a séance but that would only call forth a departed soul—not give you the kind of answers you seek.”

“You can call her back?”

“Only for the duration of the séance; I cannot keep those spirits here for a lengthy period of time.”