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“You mean, from when I lost the baby?”
“I think that would be a very good place to start.”
It took Amy thirty minutes to tell her whole story. During that time Primrose sipped tea, ate half a dozen chocolate-dipped cookies, and never said a word, but Amy could feel the intensity of her listening.
“And that’s where I am now,” Amy said, putting down her cup. “For the second morning in a row I had to put my sheets through the washer. And look at my face!”
“You can hardly see the bruises,” Primrose said, but she was no longer smiling. “I must say that I’ve never heard a tale like yours. Usually, the people who receive my sister’s cards are like the women you’re staying with. They desperately need to change their lives.”
“But they haven’t received the cards.”
“Yes they have,” Primrose said. “They may not have seen them yet, but they’ve received them. That poor, poor girl. What is her name?”
“Zoë.”
“She had so much taken from her life. And the other one. I saw her after the hairdresser worked on her. She’s so much better now, but she’s still an old woman. Misery wears one down.”
“You seem to know us well,” Amy said.
“Oh yes. Such interesting people stay at Jeanne’s house.”
“Do you know her?”
Primrose smiled. “You want to know if she has received a card.”
“And I thought you couldn’t read minds.”
Primrose laughed, but she didn’t answer the question. “Of course I see all of my sister’s clients, and I must say that they are an unhappy lot. Without exception, they have all had dreadful lives.”
“Their destinies have been misdirected by other people,” Amy said quietly.
Primrose looked as though someone had pinched her. “You are exactly right, dear. The truth is that my sister merely puts their destinies back on track. It’s like a train that’s been derailed. Sometimes the train goes off in a different direction, on a side track, but sometimes it falls onto its side and just lies there in the dirt.”
“That’s Faith and Zoë,” Amy said. “Zoë acts tough but she’s not. She makes her living by staying in other people’s houses and painting portraits. Faith lives alone in an apartment in New York and visits a therapist three times a week. Neither of them have lives.”
“Like you do?”
“Like I do,” Amy said. “Am I strange because I like my life? I wouldn’t trade my husband and children or even my house for any other.”
“Yes, dear, you are a rarity. You are a person who is content with her life. When you speak of your family it’s as though your entire body glows.”
“So why did I receive a card from your sister?”
“I would imagine it’s because of your dreams. I think your destiny in another life was derailed.”
“That’s just what Faith said.”
“Perhaps you should go back and fix it,” Primrose said.
“Go back? You mean as in a hypnotic regression?”
“No. What my sister does is a great deal more than that. She has a gift where she can send people back to any time in their lives for three weeks.”
“Three weeks?” Amy asked as she tried to comprehend this concept. “What could a person do in three weeks?”
“It only takes a small thing to change a person’s life. Say no to a marriage proposal. Say no to getting into a car at a certain time. Or say yes to an opportunity.”
“All right,” Amy said, “say you go back and change something, but then what happens?”
