“Yes, I think so. But perhaps simply by this luck, I can’t tell. A symbol. Now it’s the opposite,” she said, staring at the fresh row. “Now you are the protector. A risk, some danger, but the luck is still there. A house.”
“The newsreel,” Lena said quietly.
“There, again. The protector, like a knight. A sword. Perhaps a rescue. You are a warrior?” she said easily, the archaic word natural to her.
“No.”
“Then a judge. The sword of a judge. Yes, that must be it. There is paper all around you. Lots of paper.”
“There, you see?” Lena said. “He’s a writer.”
Frau Hinkel pretended not to hear, busy with the cards. “But it’s difficult for you, the judge. You see here, the eyes face in two directions, not just one, so it’s difficult. But you will.” She laid out another set. “You have interesting cards. Contradictions. The paper keeps coming up. The luck. But also deception. That explains the eyes, looking both ways, because there is deception around you.” Speaking as if she were working it out for the first time, what must have been a routine. “And always a woman. Strong, at the center. The rest-it’s hard to say, but the woman is always there, you keep coming back to her. At the center. May I see your hand?”
She reached over and traced a line down his palm. “Yes, I thought so. My god, such a line. In a man. So deep. You see how straight. One, your whole life. You have a strong heart. The rest, contradictions, but not the heart.” She looked up at him. “You must be careful when you judge. The heart is so strong.” She turned to Lena, still holding his hand. “The woman who finds this one will be lucky. One love, no others.” Her voice sentimental, a professional after all. Lena smiled.
She laid out one more set. “Let’s see. Yes, the same. Death again, close. Still the luck, but take care. We have only what might be. And deception again.”
“Does it say who?”
“No, but you will see. The eyes face one way now. You will see it.
Jake shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “Is there travel?” he said* leading them back to the fortune cookie.
“Oh yes, many trips.” Offhand, as if it were too obvious to bother about. “A trip on water soon.” Another safe guess for an American.
“Home?”
“No, short. Many trips. You will never be home,” she said softly, an abstraction. “Always somewhere else. But it’s not a sadness for you. The place is not important. You will always live here.” She tapped the heart line in his open palm. “So it’s a lucky life, yes?” she said, turning over the cards and handing them to Lena to shuffle.
“Then mine will be lucky too,” Lena said, cheerful.
Count on it, Jake wanted to say, just pay the twenty-five marks.
But when Frau Hinkel laid out Lena’s set, she looked at it for a moment, puzzled, then gathered up the cards again.
“What does it say?”
“I can’t tell. Sometimes when there are two of you it confuses the cards. Try again.” She handed the deck to Lena. “They need to have your touch only.”
Jake watched her shuffling, earnest, the way Hannelore must have listened to the radio.
“Yes, now I see,” Frau Hinkel said, laying down the rows. “A mother’s cards. Very loving-so many hearts. It’s important to you, children. Yes, two of them.”
“Two?”
“Yes, two,” Frau Hinkel said, sure, not even looking up for confirmation.
Jake glanced at Lena, wanting to wink, but she had grown pale, disconcerted.
“Two of everything,” Frau Hinkel said. “Two men. Kings.” She looked up, intimate. “There was another?”
Lena nodded. Frau Hinkel took her hand just as she had Jake’s, getting a second opinion.
“Yes, there. Two. Two lines running there.”
“They cross each other,” Lena said.
“Yes,” Frau Hinkel said, then moved on, not explaining. “But only one in the end. One perhaps has died?” Another safe guess for anyone in the waiting room.
“No.”
“Ah. Then you have decided.” She turned the hand to its side. There are the children. You see, two.“
She went back to another row of cards.
“Much sorrow,” she said, shaking her head. “But happiness too. There is an illness. Have you been ill?”
“Yes.”
“But no longer. You see this card. It fights the illness.”
“The one with the sword?” Jake said.
Frau Hinkel smiled pleasantly. “No, this one. It usually means medicine.” She looked up. “I’m glad for you. So many these days-no medicine, even in the cards.”
Another row.
“You were in Berlin during the war?”
“Yes.”
Frau Hinkel nodded her head. “Destruction. I see this all the time now. Well, they don’t lie, the cards.” She placed down a black card, then quickly drew out another to cover it.
“What does that mean?” Lena said, alert.
Frau Hinkel looked at her. “In Berlin? It usually means a Russian. Excuse me,” she said, suddenly shy, a shorthand message. “But that is the past. See how they come now? More hearts. You have a kind nature. You must not look at the past. You see how it tries to come back-see this one-but never strong, not as strong as the hearts. You can bury it,” she said oddly. “You have the cards.” Laying them on, another row of red.
“And now? What will happen?”
