look away.
“Stay away from Mr. Carver. He will bring naught but pain,” she advised. “I speak of another. Your soul is sad and feels betrayed and alone because he has not come. Even now you seek him.” The gypsy sat back with a sigh but didn’t release Elizabeth’s gaze.
Elizabeth frowned. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, I haven’t lost anyone, certainly not a man.” She shook her head with the beginnings of annoyance.
The wrinkled eyes sparkled with patient amusement.
“My dear child, you fail to understand. I speak of your soul mate, he whom you are intended to love and become one with in every lifetime. You are meant to find each other. It’s part of your destiny.”
The old gypsy parted her lips in a toothless grimace, but her eyes showed kindness and tenderness. It was the only reason Elizabeth didn’t immediately run away.
“You haven’t met him yet in this life,” the gypsy continued to explain gently, “and he’s past due. He’s never been this late before, he should have come by now. You know this,” she paused to tap her chest, “in here, you know.”
Elizabeth shook her head in protest once again, ready to leave, but stopped short as her hand was grabbed in a surprisingly iron-like grip. She sat where she was, looking down at her lap, her stomach churning nervously as she wondered what the old woman meant. Was she talking about the dreams? She was curious enough that she didn’t immediately demand the woman release her so she could storm out and berate Sarah for making her waste her time this way.
Glancing up she saw the fortuneteller’s eyes had closed, a look of intense concentration on her face. Elizabeth felt her own eyes slipping closed and realized abruptly she was no longer in her own body. Nor was she in the fortune teller’s small tent at the circus.
Looking around, Elizabeth saw she was in a field she didn’t recognize with people surrounding her. On closer inspection, she recognized they were all soldiers.
She saw the fortuneteller. At least she thought it must be her since she was holding her hand. This woman was much younger and beautiful, with long black hair and a bright smile.
“Look.” The fortuneteller pointed toward a group of men dressed in Union blues. “Do you see him?”
Elizabeth did. He was holding a long rifle and staring out into the field, his jaw clenched. She knew him immediately. How strange! Curiosity took hold, and thinking she might speak to him, she started forward. Feeling a tug on her arm she stopped as the fortuneteller pulled her back.
“Watch,” she directed. “We will see why he has yet to come to you.”
Elizabeth nodded, recognizing that this must be a vision or a dream, not reality. It was so strange how realistic everything was. She could even hear the birds and the sound of male voices in the breeze. He didn’t see her, so she watched him chatting with his buddies. Then she screamed and watched in horror as he and the surrounding men were blown up by cannon fire. The smell of smoke in the air made her sick. Closing her eyes she turned away, unable to observe anymore. She didn’t understand and couldn’t explain the emotional sense of loss she felt. She didn’t even know his name, so how could she feel so alone at his death?
Turning to the fortuneteller, her grief too intense to be vocalized, Elizabeth shook her head in denial. Covering her mouth as hot tears coursed down her cheeks, she bent forward, kneeling on the sun-warmed grass, nearly falling from the intensity of her emotions. She felt as if part of her soul had been ripped from her body. A gentle touch on her shoulder steadied her, and she met the sorrow-filled eyes of the young fortuneteller beside her.
“We must correct this,” she said simply. Holding out her hand, she helped Elizabeth stand. “Look.” The woman pointed in the opposite direction, and as Elizabeth did, hope sprung to life somewhere inside.
Again she saw a man she immediately recognized, but he looked different somehow. He no longer wore a soldier’s uniform. Instead of a battlefield, he was surrounded by strange furniture. Some of it blinked, and there was artificial light everywhere.
She stepped forward to get a closer look at him and noticed he looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept well recently. He looked up but obviously couldn’t see them, and she caught her breath again. There was something familiar about him, and she ached to comfort him.
In that instance she knew that the fortuneteller had been quite correct. Elizabeth was angry with him for not coming to her, and she had been waiting for him. She just hadn’t known until this moment. It went against everything she’d ever believed about not needing a man. Looking at him, she realized it wasn’t so much that she needed him, but that she could see he needed her. He looked so lost, so alone, and her heart was touched.
“When will he come to me?” she asked, not taking her eyes from him.
“It’s complicated,” the fortuneteller said with a sigh. “He is not of this time but from the future. I cannot take him away from your future self, can I?”
“Where am I in the future? Why has he not found me?” Elizabeth wanted to know that if she could not make him happy, at least her future self could.
The fortuneteller turned and pointed to another place. Elizabeth saw a garden of headstones.
“Oh my,” the fortuneteller breathed. “He can’t find you because in his time you have died.”
“What!” Elizabeth tried to look back at him, only to find he had disappeared. “Can’t you fix that?” she begged, turning back toward the fortuneteller. She had to help him. He needed her.
The woman smiled and then nodded. “Anything for you, my child, but you must make it a wish.”
“I do wish it. I wish for my soul mate to be happy.”
Without warning, Elizabeth was back in her own body, and she gasped at the strange sensation. Her hand was freed from the old fortuneteller’s iron grip, and looking up she met the same eyes in the wrinkled old face that had only moments before been young and beautiful.
“I didn’t know,” Elizabeth whispered, still slightly stunned from her experience.
“There is much you don’t know about yourself.” The wise old eyes crinkled. “I can help you child, do not doubt it. You will see him again, and I can bring him to you. All you have to do is agree to accept my help.” Her hand again captured Elizabeth’s. “Will you accept a poor old woman’s intervention in your life?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, her heart racing with excitement.
“Strange things will happen during the next full moon. Look for a man who seems out of place in this world. He is your soul mate, and your heart will know this to be true. Follow your heart, and you will have what you most desire.” Squeezing Elizabeth’s hand, she closed her eyes briefly. “Go now,” she commanded. “Forget not what I have told you.”
Elizabeth nodded and fled. Outside the tent she waved away Sarah’s questions and made an excuse to hurry home. How could she explain the strange visit? It was much better to appear rude.
* * * *
Agatha shed the facade of an old gypsy woman and closed her booth as soon as Elizabeth exited. She smiled in relief that her work at the fair
