herself the luxury of a few tears and sniffles. She looked around and noticed she wasn't the only one with moist eyes on this sultry summer morning.
She decided to walk back. It wasn't far and the exercise would do her good.
Besides... she had a stop to make along the way.
Half an hour later Gia stood at the antique white porcelain sink in the upstairs bathroom and stared at her third pregnancy test in fifteen minutes.
Negative. Just like the other two.
But she felt pregnant. That was why she'd stopped and picked up three different brands of home test kits, just to be sure.
They all told her the same thing, but that didn't change how she felt.
The phone rang. Thoughts of a bus accident, Vicky hurt, flashed through her mind and she snatched it up.
'Gia!' said a familiar woman's voice. 'It's me, Junie!' She sounded excited, all but burbling.
'Oh, hi. Did you find-?'
'That's why I'm calling! When I got in last night I went straight to the big blue vase by the door and turned it upside down. Want to guess what dropped out?'
'Don't tell me-your bracelet?'
'Yes!' She laughed. 'Right where Ifasen said it would be! I couldn't believe it! I hardly go near that vase. I don't know how it got in there but I was so happy I cried. Isn't he just so amazing?'
Gia didn't respond, thinking about what Jack had said last night, how he'd explained Ifasen's billet-reading trick. All fine and good, but how could he explain this? Gia wouldn't buy that it was an educated guess like when Ifasen told her she'd have...
Oh, God! He'd said she'd have two children... and here she was, feeling pregnant.
'Hey, Gia,' Junie said. 'You still there?'
'What? Oh, yes. Still here. I'm just wondering how this can be possible. How could he have known something like that?'
'He didn't. The spirits did. They told him, and then he passed it on to me. Pretty simple, don'tcha think?'
'Hmmm,' Gia said. She felt a crawly sensation in her stomach that had nothing to do with morning sickness. 'Right. Simple.'
She ended the call as quickly as possible without being rude, then wandered to a front window and stared out. Her eyes fixed on the townhouses across the square from hers without really seeing them.
Maybe that was all this was... the power of suggestion. She'd screwed up her pills, a psychic said she'll have two children, and then her subconscious went to work, making her feel pregnant.
The tests-three of them, no less-said otherwise.
But home kits weren't all that accurate in the very early stages of a pregnancy. The labels did warn about false negatives.
A blood test... that was supposed to be extremely accurate, positive within days of conception.
She found her Daytimer and looked up her gynecologist's number. No way Gia expected Dr. Eagleton to see her on a Saturday, but no reason she couldn't order the test for her, maybe at someplace like Beth Israel, and Gia could run up there, have her blood drawn, and wait for the results.
Yes, she thought, punching in the number. Let's get this settled once and for all.
As much as Gia loved Jack, she did not want to be pregnant.
2
Lyle awoke hot and sweaty. He could hear the air conditioner in the window running like a bandit, yet the room felt like a steam bath. Damn thing was only a month old. Couldn't be going south already.
He opened his eyes and lifted his head. Someone had pulled up the blinds and opened all his bedroom windows.
Lyle rolled out of bed. What was going on here? Had Charlie done this?
He had no intention of cooling the rest of Astoria so he slammed his windows shut and stalked down the hall to the rear bedroom. He barged in and found Charlie sprawled on his sheets, both windows wide open, and his AC going full blast.
'Damn it, Charlie, what are you up to?'
Charlie lifted his head and blinked at him. 'Whassup, bro?'
'The windows, for one thing! What's with opening the windows? It's gonna be ninety today.'
'Didn't open no windows.'
'Yeah? Well then who did? Ice-T?'
He slammed them closed, then stepped back into the hall. He was headed for his room when he felt a warm breeze flowing up the stairwell. He ran downstairs and found all the waiting room windows and the front door wide open.
'Charlie!' he shouted. 'Charlie get down here!'
When Charlie stumbled in he gaped at the open windows and door. 'Dawg, what you doing?'
'Me? I locked that door last night myself, chain lock and all. I didn't get up and open it. And since there's only two people in this house, that leaves you.'
He shut and relocked the door as he was speaking.
'Don't look at me, yo,' Charlie said, closing the windows. 'I been racked out.'
Lyle stared at his brother. Charlie used to be a def joker who could spin out a line like no one else. But ever since he'd been born again, he told the truth-about everything, even if it hurt.
'Then who...? Shit! Someone got in!'
Lyle raced to the channeling room. If they'd wrecked the equipment...
But no, the room looked fine. No obvious damage. A quick survey by Charlie and him revealed it to be just as they'd left it. Except for the windows. During the remodeling he'd painted the panes black and draped them with heavy curtains to block the tiniest ray of light. Now the drapes were pulled back and the windows thrown open, allowing sunlight to flood the room. It changed the look entirely, making all his carefully arranged mystical touches look... tacky.
Relieved that nothing had been damaged, Lyle closed the windows, pulled the drapes, and headed back toward the kitchen.
'We're running late, Charlie. We've got a noon sitting, so-'
Lyle almost tripped when he came back through the waiting room: the windows and the front door were open again.
Charlie stumbled to a stop behind him. 'What in the name of the Lord-'
'The Lord's got nothing to do with this, Charlie. They're still here!'
Lyle darted into the kitchen-where the windows and back door all stood open-and grabbed two knives. He handed one to his brother.
'All right. We know he's not down here. So you plant yourself by the stairs to make sure no one sneaks down, while I sweep upstairs.'
Lyle's heart was already running in high gear as he took the steps up two at a time; it further picked up its tempo as he moved down the hall, knife held before him. He'd grown up in a tough neighborhood, but he'd stayed away from the crazies, the crackheads, and the bangers. He'd had fights along the way, mostly shoving matches, one that got his face cut when someone pulled a boxcutter, but that was it. So he wasn't exactly practiced in knife fighting. He didn't even know if he could stab somebody, but he was mad enough now to find out.
He checked the hall closet-empty. Moved on to his bedroom. Shit! The windows were open again. How the hell? But the screens weren't pushed out so no one had gone out that way. He checked his closet, then closed the windows.
