“You’ve been so full of nightmares and questions there hasn’t been room for much else. Has there?”
The question came so tenderly, it was as if the tattooed lady were reading her heart. Jodi’s hands fell from her face.
She wiped away tears and looked across the table as the cat jumped onto her lap. Tentatively, Jodi rested her hand on the old tom’s back.
“His name is Seymour,” the tattooed lady said, reaching for the deck of cards.
“My mom had a cat named Seymour. She used to say he knew her longer than almost anyone. She got him when she was five or six, and he was twenty one when he died. He was an orange tabby, too.”
The tattooed lady nodded as she shuffled the cards. “The cards help focus our thoughts. So we can find the answers that are already there.”