She accepted a delicate china cup from the older woman, then politely waited until Rebecca took a sip of the steaming brew before doing likewise. The mint flavor was wonderfully subtle and refreshing.

“It’s absolutely perfect. Isn’t it?” “Yes, yes, it is.”

“You see, it merely goes to show you how little, or how much, a name matters. There are some who refuse to try this brew because they happen to know that mint is never grown in Morocco. How foolish I’m sure they feel when they discover that a name is sometimes nothing more and nothing less than a name. It doesn’t have to be the be-all and end-all or even have some hidden meaning. There are times when we affix a particular moniker to something just because it feels right. After all, what’s in a name, eh, Baylor? Even Freud said that ‘sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar.’”

BJ sat with her mouth hanging open a bit, her cup of tea still balanced in one hand. She couldn’t put her finger on it, even if someone had pressed her to do so, but she had the strangest feeling that Rebecca wasn’t just talking about tea leaves from the other side of the world. Then there was the way she kept using Baylor’s given name, a name BJ had grown up detesting.

Had BJ actually disliked her name for any reason other than it had been her father’s idea? Was it because he had repeatedly told the story of how he expected his firstborn to be a son and how disappointed he had been when a daughter was placed in his arms? Perhaps BJ’s extreme dislike for her name had come on the day when she stood toe to toe with the man who had made her life so miserable to confront him over his abominable behavior. His answer had been to turn away from his only child to declare that he was sorry he had given such a pervert his beloved father’s name.

“Are you feeling ill, dear?” Rebecca asked.

BJ came back to the present and shook her head to clear away the old anger she felt whenever thinking of her father. “Yes...yes, I’m fine. Do you know my grandmother well, Mrs. Ashby?”

“Oh, my, yes. I met Evie and her friend Aimee in Greece in 1947. Very turbulent times back then, but of course, wherever there was political upheaval, that’s where you would find Evie and her camera. In fact, it was in Havana, Cuba, that we ran into each other again. It was 1953 and I was on my honeymoon. I remember those two weeks as if they were yesterday, you know. My husband, Charles, met a man who told us about Ana Lia on that trip. I suppose the rest is history.”

“I had no idea,” BJ said in wonderment. “I mean, I don’t remember Tanti ever telling me how it was that she came to Ana Lia.”

“Sometimes people tell us all sorts of things, and it’s not that we’re not listening, just that we’re not quite ready to hear.”

BJ didn’t know what to say to that. Was it possible that Tanti had told BJ all of these things and she had selfishly paid her grandmother no mind?

“Shall we entertain ourselves?” Rebecca pulled a thick deck of cards from a small drawer in the table between their chairs.

BJ chuckled. “So you’re a fortuneteller?”

“Good heavens, no. It’s a game, merely something to pass the time. Actually, I have heard that the tarot came from an Italian game called tarrochi. Some say it was used as a way to pass on stories that the Christian church didn’t want people to know. You see, in the fourth century, one particular faction of the church was declared ‘official.’Up to that point, there were many manifestations of Christianity. Who is to say who knew the truth and who did not? Well, the Roman emperor Theodosius suddenly said that this one was real, and all the others were contrary to accepted belief.”

“So where do the cards come into play?” BJ had studied much history and literature of ancient cultures while working on her doctorate, but she had never heard this tale before. She had to admit she was intrigued.

“Some people say that one of the heretical factions became known as the ‘Hidden Church.’It’s thought that the cards told the real history of the church. The game became a way to disguise them, yet still pass on the truth. I have no idea if any of what I’ve just told you is fact, but it would explain why the Christian church is so vehemently opposed to the tarot, eh?”

“I guess so. You know, I really don’t believe in such things as tarot cards, ouija boards, or crystal balls,” BJ said as Rebecca shuffled the cards in an oddly different manner. The ancient fingers seemed quite nimble. “It’s not that I think people are goofy who do believe, it’s just that I don’t happen to think life works that way. I don’t take it seriously.”

“Good. That is a prerequisite of mine, Baylor. Frankly, I don’t trust anyone who takes the cards too seriously. That’s playing a dangerous game.” Rebecca arranged the cards face down in three piles on the small table. “The worst thing you can do is to take the tarot too seriously or literally. Then again, I’m not sure I trust anyone who refuses to play the game, either.”

BJ felt as if Rebecca had forced her into a corner with that remark. “Okay, I guess I’m up for it.”

“Excellent. Let’s begin. The deck that I’m using is a Rider deck. I enjoy the artwork myself. The three piles represent your past,” she indicated each pile with one hand, “your present, and your future. The tarot is not a way to predict one’s future. I’ve seen the very same cards read differently by different individuals. That’s why it’s good not to take what you see too seriously.”

“If not to predict, then what are they used for?”

“Most believers feel they are a tool for divination, for spiritual exploration.”

“And you? What do you use them for?”

“Examination. Examination of people, mostly, of human nature. I find it interesting, the things the cards make us think about. Within this first section, we can see your past. More specifically, it’s a way to gain insight into past events. Your present will help you to see what goes on right now, and of course, there is what you may expect in the future.”

“All of the cards have what looks like a court jester or a joker painted on the back. What’s that supposed to mean?” Baylor asked.

“Very observant, my friend. That is the Fool. There are many ways and spreads to the tarot. I choose a traditional way called The Fool’s Journey. It’s like a story.”

“And I’m the fool, I take it?” BJ raised one eyebrow quizzically.

“Don’t be offended, dear Baylor. We are all fools when we start out on a journey. Did you know that the word ‘fool’ used to be used as a term of honor?”

Baylor shook her head. She vaguely remembered her high school Latin and recalled that the Fool played a big part in medieval literature.

“Afool was someone who was pure...protected. Do you recall the story of Parsifal?”

“Yes. He was the knight who found the Grail.”

“Exactly. Parsifal was a knight of the Round Table. He found the Holy Grail, yet he was known as Parsifal, the Holy Fool. His name actually meant ‘naïve fool.’ You see, his mother kept him sheltered and protected from the hurts of the world.”

Rebecca turned over a card from one of the piles. “I’ve selected a very simple way of reading the tarot for your first experience. Next time, we’ll try something more complex.”

BJ nodded, never questioning the fact that there would be a next time. She watched as Rebecca chose a number of cards from the pile that represented the past. She carefully turned them all face up before speaking.

“The Emperor, the Tower, Strength, and Death. You display fairly strong elements in your past. Some would say your past has been an intense journey that has left its mark on you. The Emperor represents your earthly father.” Rebecca watched as BJ’s upper lip twitched into a sneer. “Sometimes it simply means a person in authority. It can even mean a certain control or structure that you have had to deal with.” She pushed the card aside.

“My father and I had a very...strained relationship.” BJ had no idea why she said it. The words seemed to pop out of her mouth as if her voice had a will of its own.

“How unfortunate. Fathers and daughters...those can be such complex bonds. Your father has passed on, hasn’t he?”

“Yes,” BJ said with a tightening of her jaw.

“Let’s move on. The next card is the Tower. Usually, this represents a shattering of the structure in your life. Perhaps something traumatic, something life altering. This seems to indicate that the event centered on your father.” She slid the card next to the first.

BJ’s silence told Rebecca all she needed to know. She moved on to the next card. “Strength. It means exactly what its name implies. Given the first two cards, it’s no wonder that you had to develop strength to help face the situations in which you were placed.”

“Since I’m still alive, I guess the Death card is wrong, huh?” Baylor asked.

“Death can mean an ending or a change. It is not so much about the physical death as metaphorical. Oddly enough, this is one of the three most misunderstood cards in the Major Arcana of the tarot. Many times, Death can be a good thing, meaning that something you no longer need is gone from your life. It can be a way of life, a habit, maybe a relationship, sometimes innocence. The one thing to remember about death as it relates to change is that when you fight, it can be painful. If you accept it, however, you can move upward and onward in enlightenment.”

“Yeah, well, so much for the past,” BJ said uneasily. Rebecca’s reading was doing exactly what she had predicted. It was making BJ think. She had once believed that she had put all those old terrors to rest, but clearly that wasn’t the case. “How about the present?”

Rebecca turned over four cards from the second pile. “The Magician, the Chariot, the High Priestess, and Temperance. The Magician represents a teacher who tries to help you see your potential. You have all the tools and abilities to face life, Baylor. You haven’t accepted that fact yet. Your teacher will help you see the power that lies within yourself.”

BJ sat listening intently. She didn’t notice that Rebecca had begun to personalize the information. “I don’t suppose you see a name there, do you?” She leaned over to examine the card.

“I’m sorry, dear, but it doesn’t work that way. It could be a friend, a lover, or a relative. The usual pattern is that it’s a person who has earned your trust, someone who believes in you. Suddenly, this person will appear to you in a different light.”

“A little vague, but I guess I can live with it.” BJ smiled. “Okay. Next?”

“The Chariot represent conflicts, decisions, possibly travel. The conflicts will be within you, Baylor. The tarot is not as concerned with the battles you fight outside of yourself as the ones inside.

“Next we see the High Priestess. She is your spiritual mother, mystery you will never be able to explain. It is she who calls to you in those moments of intuition when you follow your instincts but don’t know why.”

BJ stared off into space. Rebecca’s words had ensnared her.

She could see herself, not actually see, but she could feel. She was throwing caution to the wind and acting on instinct. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t worrying about the consequences.

Rebecca’s voice cut through BJ’s vision. “Finally, there is Temperance. It is indicative of the balance between our inner decisions. The mortal lesson that causes us to know that there is more to justice than right and wrong, guilty and innocent.”

“Well, that was pretty painless,” BJ said.

“You see. It can be great fun, even worthy of some honest introspection when we don’t take it too seriously.”

“How about my future? Anything I should look out for? Any long trips I should put off?” Besides the one that got me here in the first place?

“Let’s take a look.” Rebecca drew four cards from the final pile. “The Sun, the Devil, the Hermit, and the Lovers. How very interesting...all entities. What an exciting place your life will be.”

“Really?” Rebecca’s enthusiasm for the cards had infected BJ. “So what do these mean?”

“The Sun is a most favorable card. It shines upon those who have suffered during their journey. The Sun’s brightness indicates finding ultimate joy or prosperity. It shows that happiness will find you.”

“Don’t you mean I’ll find it?”

“No, not this time. Happiness is like the butterfly that constantly eludes your grasp. When you finally sit back, relax, and open your hand, it settles comfortably in your palm.”