Page 4 of Caution to the Wind

Instantly, I went to her, my feet moving fast over the carpets strewn on the ground until I reached the chair before her.

Even though I’d been born in the flat plains of Alberta, Canada, I’d been enchanted by the culture of my mother’s family since before I could remember. There was so much history and culture, a richness and a magic so tangible I imagined I could literally feel it on my skin when I wore my traditional dress at Lunar New Year, when I walked down the streets of Calgary’s tiny Chinatown, when Ma wove bedtime stories about her childhood in Hong Kong. So, the small pocket of Chinese magic at the carnival seemed meant for me.

“May I?” I murmured because my parents had taught me well.

She tipped her head only slightly.

I sat, my palms offered up on the black tablecloth for her to study.

“Eager,” she murmured in a deeper voice than I would have thought her slight body capable of. “Caution to the child too eager to race into the future.”

“My father always says knowledge is power,” I countered, voice soft with respect even though I disagreed with her.

Her lips twitched slightly as she raised her arms to shake the silk sleeves back from her hands. They were small and knurled with age, but dexterous as they collected mine. Her fingers were cold as they lifted my right hand closer to her face under the single light hanging from a lantern attached to the ceiling.

“Ah,” she said, and the one word was worth an essay of interpretation. “You see this?”

I leaned forward to see where her nail traced the long line curving away from my thumb.

“This is the lifeline. It is big and clear. This means a vibrant life, a bold one. You do not shy away into the shadows.”

This was true, but then again, anyone who’d met me could have told me that.

“This, this is interesting,” Madame Cheung murmured, almost to herself as she twisted my hand closer in a way that ached. “A long love line all the way across your palm. This is unusual. It means a big love. But this, here and here?” Her nail slashed across my palm in two places, the same locations where small lines cut into my love line. “This is bad. This is tragedy.”

An ominous chill moved through the tent, biting into my shoulders. It was not an icy summer night, and the tent was closed and warm. But the cold settled under my skin and moved deep.

“The marriage line is too long,” she added. “Your reputation or theirs will be affected by this union. You are not very lucky, daughter. Not in love.”

I wasn’t the kind of girl to dream of ending up married with four children and a golden retriever, but I liked the idea of love. Of what Kate and Henning had and my ma and dad.

The idea that I might not ever have that left me feeling oddly hollow, filled only with the chill of her words.

“This is the money line,” she continued easily, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on a twelve-year-old girl. “You have two. They run together.” The tickle of her fingers over my palm made me shiver. “Two different jobs that intersect.”

“I’m going to be a doctor,” I told her because my parents wanted me to have a good career, but more, Henning was a doctor, and he was as close to a real-life superhero as I’d ever known.

Madame Cheung’s sagging chin folds tightened as she pursed her lips, but she didn’t argue with me. Her eyes were narrowed as she traced the straight line beneath my heart line.

“Clear and thin. Clever and focused,” she praised. “Love is your weakness, but success will be yours however you seek it.”

My lips twisted unconsciously, fingers flexing in her hold.

“You do not accept this balance,” she intuited, dropping my hand to grab my chin tightly. My head was pushed back into the light by her clasp, my eyes dropping to continue to hold her intense gaze. “There are mountains”—she traced my brow ridge and jaw—“and rivers in all faces.” Her cool skin slid like silk down my nose to brush over my mouth. “The eyes, the nose, the mouth. All full, smooth, glossy. This is a lucky face, you have, daughter. But this sharp chin and stern brow, this is unlucky.”

She smoothed the crease that appeared between my eyebrows at her words and clucked her tongue. “This isbalance. Too much of any one thing is no good. Not even luck. For those whose life comes easy, their character can be weak.”

“I’m not weak,” I whispered, half statement, half question.

I was strong.

I was Cleo’s defender.

Henning’s Rocky.

Ma and Old Dragon’sbou lik neoi, the girl who fights better than any of the boys in town.

But I was old enough to realize strength was found in more than just the body.