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She shook her head and handed me the others. “Knight of Pentacles, Six of Pentacles, Page of Pentacles. Pentacles represent material goods. Wealth.”
“The things acquired through work.” I translated.
She raised her eyebrows and hummed in acknowledgement.
“The Page and the Knight. Travel. New challenges. Pushing forward and taking charge.” She sighed. “I always pull a knight, but it’s never the Knight of Pentacles. This is…”
“Clear,” I said. It was to me.
She nodded again. It was unlike her not to argue. Even her regularly loquacious self was restrained. Harnessed.
“This one… Ten of Swords.”
She swallowed hard, nodding again. Her body movements were bitter.
“What’s with the swords? Are they… stabbing him in the back?”
“He’s run down with burdens. He’s hit rock bottom and needs renewal.”
“Oh, God.”
Her eyes closed and her head bent low. “Finally, I pulled the World. The World is the final card in the Major Arcana. The completion of one cycle and the beginning of another. I think you can see the direction the cards are leaning toward.”
I bit my lip, nodded. They were telling her to take the job. That I’d been right. She knew it now.
“But, Gus, they’re just cards.”
“Come here, Crow.”
She looked up at me, her eyes pleading not to make her follow this line of intuition. I nodded to her and beckoned her over.
She stood, tightening the blanket around her shoulders. Lowering herself slowly to perch on my leg, she was gentle at first, like she’d been on our wedding night when she’d fed me a dripping honey cake, and all I’d wanted to do was drag it down her body and suck the honey off her nipples.
Then she leaned closer, draping her body over mine, nestling her back against my chest as she cried silently, blotting the tears away as quickly as they spilled down her cheeks.
Everything had felt so perfect this morning. Now, only hours later, I was on the verge of losing my entire world.
“I’m sorry,” she said.For asking.
“Me too.”For saying yes.
It might not be me or the job, but that didn’t mean she’d want me to go with her. Would she even want me if I wasn’t a priest?
Maybe she’d get to the interview and realize she’d hate being in charge of a university department. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine her in suits every day, emceeing fundraising events and lunching with bigwigs. She loved working in the field, taking on students. How often would she be able to do those anymore?
But as much as I hated trusting Chris, he might have been right. Decca had quoted the Gospel of John before she even proposed. She would lay down her life for her friends. Christ’s words or not, wasn’t that the definition of people-pleasing?
I had to be the one to push her to please herself. Maybe everything would work out, but it wasn’t right for me to deny her the opportunity by continuing to let her lay down her life for me.
If I had any hopes of getting through this, I had to start thinking of her asnot mine.
If I did it the right way, I might be able to retain some part of her in my life.
I kissed the top of her head, running my fingers through her glossy strands of midnight black silk, glowing almost blue in the full moon’s light. She moaned and pressed her head back against my hand, so that I cradled her skull.
I felt the weight of it. Her head in my hand. Her body sunken into mine. The weight of her trust.
On the night of our wedding, she was hesitant with me. I was resistant to her. In the months since, we’d broken through the physical barriers. I had thought that’s all it would take. But there was still a wall between us.
