3:10 a.m., New Orleans
Hours before dawn Professor Gemini D’Orlow Chambers quietly slipped out of her bed, cinching the belt of her ruby-colored chenille robe and padded down the curved stairway of her gracious Garden District home. She knew the route to the kitchen by heart, even in the dead of night, having lived in the same house for decades. Her three sons had been raised there. Her palms lightly skirted the polished brass railing on the way down. Steady gait. Purposeful plan. Knowing grimace. She shuffled over to the kitchen counter to prepare her favorite blend of loose-leaf green tea, her slippers sporadically slapping on the hard-wood floor.
Foggy uneasiness swirled within Gem’s mind, billowing thick. A subtle heaviness infiltrated her senses pulling her down an unmarked course. Fists clenched, she opened her right mind, giving it free reign. Her inner focus sharpened. The hot tea was momentarily forgotten, the leaves churning in the saucer in no discernable pattern.
She automatically reached for her treasured Tarot deck, searching for inklings only the cards could provide. They were her mainstay, her guiding angels, her path to the light. With their assistance, hopefully she’d gain some insight. Shuffling the cards with practiced ease, she cut the deck and laid out two cards. Nine of Cups reversed and Queen of Cups upright.
Queen of Cups---a woman, blue eyes, intuitive, perceptive, wise. But combined with the other card reversed, there was concern etched upon Gem’s countenance. The woman depicted in the cards was not happy, possibly dissatisfied with her lover, definitely discontented with life’s course. Wait. There was more than one woman involved. Two women, maybe three, interconnected, and yet not.
Gem shook her head, dislodging the confusion, and fixated on the two cards. The images blurred as intuitive flashes bombarded her with sounds. No sights. She allowed her auditory senses to take the lead, drawing her down into impending pandemonium. Her senses stilled as she navigated through the disconnected visions.
New Orleans
Still, moonless night. Cool winds. Calm weather. Dry roads.
The blackness of the night switched to blazing flashes of light and
deafening sounds, brakes screeching, tires blowing, an explosive impact. Metal crumbled and folded in upon itself. Glass shattered with an unforeseen vengeance. Tree roots uprooted.
The catastrophic event took mere seconds. The vehicle was not recognizable, nor was the driver who was thrown through the front windshield, landing like a ravaged, limp Raggedy Andy. He lay motionless alongside the pile of meshed metal that had once been a car.

Gem felt nothing----then his excruciating pain bombarded her senses.
“Hold steady, cher’. The light can be yours if you so wish.”
The misty, white light surrounded him, beckoning. He held firm. Without words, she felt his intent.
She crumbled within herself, trying to temper his pain and stabilize his
downward slide, and felt herself being carried away within him.
Next stop…

Intense lights. Noise. Chaotic movement. People flying by. White coats. Scratchy sounds of moving carts with screeching wheels. Muted, distressed voices in the background. Busy, bloody, gloved hands. Blurry action. Overwhelming antiseptic scent. The tangy coppery smell of impending death.
Urgent shouting.
“His vitals are dropping!”
“Clamps, get the clamps! He’s bleeding out.” A doctor’s pressing roar.
Sound of feet scrambling. Anxious moments of pure silence.
“Get a neurologist, an orthopedic, and a plastic surgeon in here stat.
Move people! This man is barely holding on!”
Thoughts of despair raged through the sterile hallway.
Whispered words. “What happened?”
Another voice. “Looks like he was run over by a truck…”
An orderly’s voice, loud and clear, “EMT says he hit a tree head-on.”
“On purpose? Who he is?”
“Not identified yet. Heard he’s somebody important, though.”
Startled, the ER doctor stopped suturing. His bloody gloved hands froze above the open wound. He looked down at the patient’s face, lacerated and bleeding. “Shit. I thought this man looked familiar.….shit.”
The nurse added. “His wife’s been notified.”
An orderly leaned in. “Wait! He’s trying to talk.”
“Give him more juice,” the doctor snapped. “I want him out. The pain has to be intense.”
“He’s asking for somebody…..somebody named Silver….”

Gem faltered.“Mersi! Silver?”
It couldn’t be…
Silence descended. Gem heard no more, her strength waning, as was his. She took a deep breath, gradually drawing away from the gloom she felt in his soul. He slipped into a coma; she gently left the wounded man on his own path. His darkness was too fierce. His intent unclear.
Suddenly she was pushed in another direction, into another unrelated vision.
Cleveland
Gem sensed the closeness between the couple immediately. Not a one-night stand, not these two---they had a history together. She settled in, allowing the sketchy visualization to cascade through her, pulling her under, once again. Shadows and voices rippled through her senses.
Blurry forms…no clear faces.

His arm brushed her bare nipple as he reached for the vibrating cell on the nightstand next to the bed. He squinted as he deciphered the text message. “She’s on her way home.” A man’s voice stated, even-tone, dry.
“She texted you?” High-pitched female voice. Anxious.
“My driver did per my instructions.” He sat up, dislodging her naked body, pushing her off the stack of pillows.
“What---you have to go?” A woman’s voice, whiny. She grabbed his forearm, holding him captive. “Stay. Tell her the business meeting ran late.”
“Can’t tonight. Need to get home at a decent hour.” He jerked out of her grasp and held up his palm as he agilely slid his legs off the rumpled bed and pulled on his underwear with a jerk of his wrist.
Silence simmered. Tension heightened.
“Why do you continue with this farce of a marriage? She doesn’t love you. She loves him.”
“Don’t start. He’s in her past.”
“Really?” Sarcastic response. “Just you wait.”
He leveled her with an icy glare. “Don’t threaten me. You won’t like the repercussions.”