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Smoke swirled in the filtered early afternoon June sunlight, casting shifting patterns on walls adorned with tapestries and a medley of mystical symbols. At a small table, amid a landscape of scattered tarot cards and flickering candles, sat a woman in her thirties, her vibrant attire mirroring the room’s bohemian charm. Her black hair floated wildly around her face, and her blue robe sparkled with gold trim.

“Glad you stopped by, Jenna,” Cassie said. “I was just about to do a reading.

“Thanks,” Jenna replied, settling into a chair, her own neat uniform and short chestnut hair a contrast to her colorful friend.

She watched as Cassie shuffled the deck skillfully, then plucked a single card with a flourish and laid it face up on the table. It showed a woman sitting regally on her throne, flanked by pillars of black and white.

“The High Priestess,” Cassie began, “is a symbol of intuition and hidden knowledge. She invites you to listen to your inner voice.”

“Hidden knowledge, huh?” Jenna mused, the corners of her mouth tilting upward in a wry grin. Jenna wasn’t sure whether or not any of Cassie’s supposed gifts were real. And Jenna had never told Cassie about her own lucid dreams.

Cassie turned over another card, and this one depicted the vibrant dance of a man and woman under a golden sky. “Ah, The Lovers.” Her voice softened. “This one isn’t just about romance, Jenna. It’s about choices, partnerships, the merging of dualities. It suggests you’re at a crossroads.”

“Crossroads are nothing new to me,” Jenna replied evenly, her green eyes reflecting a lifetime of navigating such junctions alone.

“Perhaps,” Cassie ventured, tilting her head, “it’s time to consider the paths that also include others. The cards seem to think so. I’m talking about a serious relationship here, Jenna.”

“Really, Cass?”

“I know you’re a skeptic about these things,” Cassie’s laugh was light, unbothered.

Jenna had to restrain a chuckle at being called a skeptic. If only Cassie knew the truth about her! But only two people in the world knew about her paranormal dreams, and she wanted to keep it that way, at least for now.

“It’s not about the cards, Jenna,” Cassie added. “It’s about what they help us see. My intuition taps into something deeper, and it hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”

Cassie leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And speaking of seeing, there’s something about the way Jake looks at you—”

“Jake is my deputy, Cass. That’s all,” Jenna said quickly. “It would be unprofessional …”

“Sure,” Cassie persisted, a knowing smile curving her lips. “But there’s an energy there, Jenna. Anyone with eyes can spot it.”

Jenna bit her lip, wanting to change the subject, pondering whether to confide in Cassie about the dream that had haunted her sleep the night before.

“Is something else on your mind?” Cassie asked, her head tilted in genuine concern. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“It’s nothing, really.” Jenna shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just had this odd dream last night.”

Cassie’s eyes sparkled with immediate interest, her posture shifting forward, her costume sparkling in the light. “Do tell,” she urged.

“Alright, but it’s not as exciting as your usual fare.” Jenna took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “I dreamed I was walking by the ocean. It was peaceful, serene even. There was this woman, kind of out of place, standing there looking out at the water. She was holding a bird, gently, like it was precious to her.”

“Interesting,” Cassie murmured, her expression thoughtful.

Jenna continued, her voice measured, “It was a sandpiper, Cassie. You know, one of those gray-ish birds with long legs you can sometimes see running around on a beach.”

“Sounds lovely,” Cassie replied, leaning back with a smile. “Dreams about the ocean can be about exploring your emotions, finding clarity.”

“That sandpiper, it seemed... important. But the whole thing was just so tranquil. I woke up feeling like I’d been somewhere else entirely.”

“And the sandpiper?” Cassie suggested. “Maybe it symbolizes something—or someone—fragile that needs your care.”

“Could be,” Jenna said, allowing herself a small nod.

Cassie leaned forward, her bracelets jangling with the motion. “The sandpiper,” she said, “isn’t just a bird in your dream, Jenna. It’s a symbol, a guide.”

“How do you mean?”

“Sandpipers are known for their resilience, for navigating treacherous tides. It’s no coincidence it appeared to you, Jenna. Think about it—the sandpiper could be nudging you towards something... or someone.”

“Someone?” Jenna echoed.

“Exactly … like Piper, perhaps? After all, her name …”

Jenna shivered slightly at the mention of her twin sister, who had mysteriously disappeared 20 years ago. Of course, the possibility that the word “sandpiper” might have something to do with Piper had already occurred to her. The question of whether Piper was alive or dead was the greatest mystery of Jenna’s life.

When Jenna made no reply, Cassie pressed on, her tone gentle but insistent, “Your twin has always been a part of you, Jenna, even now after all these years. Could this dream be a sign regarding her? “

“Maybe,” Jenna finally conceded. “But we’ve had so many false starts trying to find her, dead ends...”

“True,” Cassie acknowledged, nodding slowly, “but the dream came to you, not me. And you, my dear sheriff, have always had some kind of sensitivity, a special knack for uncovering things hidden in plain sight.”

“So, Cassie,” she began with feigned nonchalance, “since you’re so tuned into the other side, what’s your psychic take on where Piper might be?”

Cassie’s eyebrows arched, her lips parting as if to catch the seriousness beneath Jenna’s jest.

“Sorry, Jenna,” she said. “I’m afraid there are limits to my insights.”

“That’s okay,” Jenna allowed herself a chuckle, though it sounded hollow even to her own ears. “Anyway, right now I have to get on with my day,” she said, pushing back from the table. “I need to check on Mom before I go back to the station.”

Two days ago, the lunch with her mother had been full of tension, reflecting years of unresolved issues. Margaret Graves’ hands had trembled slightly, betraying the firmness in her voice as she deflected Jenna’s concerns about her drinking problem. Their parting had been abrupt when Jenna got a call about a case. She had last seen her mother sitting there in the café alone, leaving Jenna with a hollow promise to herself: next time would be different.

“Go see your mother, hon,” Cassie implored with a delicate earnestness. “You’ve got this heavy heart for too long. Maybe it’s time to lighten the load a bit.”

Jenna met Cassie’s gaze. “It’s not that simple, Cass. Last time, we barely spoke two words without them turning into daggers. But I can’t let it be like that forever,” she admitted. “I owe it to her... to us... to try again.”

“Exactly,” Cassie smiled, her bracelets clinking like chimes in the quiet room. “You’re the strongest person I know, Jenna Graves. If anyone can bridge that gap, it’s you.”

“Thanks, Cass.” Jenna managed a thin smile.

With a nod that felt like an agreement with herself as much as with Cassie, Jenna pushed her chair back and began gathering her handbag and keys.

“Remember, Jenna, the future isn’t written,” Cassie said, standing to hug her friend. “We make our own paths as we go along.”

“Sometimes I wish it were that easy,” Jenna replied, embracing the warmth of Cassie’s hug before pulling away.

Cassie squeezed Jenna’s hands once more, then released them, stepping back to give Jenna space to leave. “Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” she said, “but you’ve never backed down from a challenge.”

“See you soon, Cass,” Jenna said, offering a genuine smile this time, bolstered by her friend’s faith in her.

“Take care, Sheriff Graves,” Cassie called out with a playful salute.

The screen door closed with a soft click behind her, leaving Cassie and her tarot cards in the quiet kitchen while Jenna stepped out into the afternoon, the sun high and assertive in the sky.

As Jenna navigated her patrol car along the familiar route to her childhood home, Cassie’s words echoed in her mind—encouraging, but they couldn’t fully quell the flutter of unease that accompanied these visits to Mom.

Jenna ran through potential conversations in her head, rehearsing apologies and support she might offer, while bracing for the inevitable defenses and accusations. Piper’s unexplained absence loomed large between her and her mother, a chasm that twenty years had only deepened. Her father’s death from cancer five years ago had added to her mother’s anguish. When Jenna had commented on her heavy drinking, Mom had responded, “I’m a widow, Jenna, and a mother who lost a child. How am I supposed to cope?”

As Jenna turned onto the gravel driveway of the house where she grew up, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, mingling with a pang of sorrow. Jenna cut the engine and sat for a moment, collecting herself.

The property had changed since her father’s passing; the vibrant life that once animated its walls and gardens had faded, leaving behind an air of neglect. The house once painted a cheerful yellow, now bore the scars of paint starting to peel. A tire swing that had once been the magic vessel of Jenna and Piper’s childhood adventures hung limp from an old oak tree, its old rope frayed. The garden, once a riot of colors and fragrances, lay dormant, weeds daring to claim dominion over forgotten flower beds.

Then Jenna’s eye was caught by the motion of someone in a wide-brimmed hat. Was that Mom there in the yard, braving the sunlight she usually avoided?