I remember the old woman in black, a raggedy gray shawl with long purple fringe pulled close around her straight shoulders the only color on her. A dusty gray cloche hat pulled down so low that only dark circles suggested her eyes. Her long dress was patched. I remember her smell, sweet and strong like incense. I remember her smile, sad. I remember the spell.

I was on my way to meet a friend, Shelby, at Starbucks. The strange woman stood, a black crow in a hummingbird aviary, on the sidewalk near the store. She didn’t fit into my safe suburban world. As I neared the crone, I looked into her weathered face, eyes set deeply. One eye was sharp, black, and shining; the other was silvered. The silver one fixed my attention.

“You are not loved at home.” Her voice was soft but clearly directed at me. The back of my neck bore a thousand tiny charges. Was it a kind of recognition of her or of her words? Her thin hand reached to pull at my arm. I paused, recoiling slightly.

“Excuse me?” I queried.

She took my hand in hers and smoothed the palm, holding my fingers straight, but kept her eye on my face.  I remained mesmerized.

“Yes,” she said. “But love is there. Remember seven.” Then she dropped my hand, still looking at me unsmiling.

I glanced down the sidewalk to see if anyone was watching us. Was this a prank? Three teen girls approached; their overlapping staccato phrases punctuated the air. They flowed around us like water around a rock and walked into Starbucks. I looked into the Starbucks window where Shelby waved and motioned me to come in.

The enigmatic woman peered past me as if I were invisible and shook her head.

“Remember seven,” she repeated. “A dark eye and long stride.”

I went into the coffee shop and joined Shelby.

“That was creepy,” I said after Shelby and I exchanged hugs.

“What?”

“That old woman stopped me, and I think she said Luke didn’t love me.” I had a strong urge to have someone affirm his affection for me. Hal and Shelby were our oldest, dearest friends and knew how solid our marriage was.

“Do you know her?”

“I’ve never seen her before. She certainly doesn’t look very ‘our town’.”

“That’s for sure. What are you going to order? I’ve only got thirty minutes before I have to pick up Karri after cheer practice.”

“Mmmm. Double shot mocha, venti, with cream.”

Two years later, I was in Great Falls, Montana with my friend, Kate, at the Great Western Art Show. I accompanied Kate to five of her last six shows. This year her husband, Sam, was coming along. I missed last year when Luke and I separated. Hal and Shelby dissolved their marriage, too. A coincidence?  Luke and Shelby married within two months of our final decree. I was in divorce and best-friend-betrayal recovery, grateful to have this trip as a distraction.

We were setting up Kate’s exhibit in a gallery room of the hotel when I looked across the room and my neck tingled with those tiny charges again.

“Kate, do you see that old woman?” I nodded my head in a direction across the room.

“The one in black? What about her? She stands out in this crowd, ominous looking.”

“I swear I’ve seen her before, back home, a couple of years ago.”

“Lots of people follow artists shows around the country.”

“She wasn’t at a gallery. She was on the street.”

“How do you remember someone you saw on the street two years ago?”

“Because she stopped me and predicted my divorce.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“I know. And I didn’t remember it until I saw her just now.”

“I didn’t know you frequented fortune tellers.”

“I don’t. She was just standing on the street outside Starbucks on Main and stopped me to tell me I was not loved at home.”  I couldn’t shake the perplexing feeling.

“That’s eerie. Come on, let’s get this finished. I want to get ready for the dance tonight.”

The show opened the next day and, as a tradition, the sponsors threw a party for the artists and spouses the night before with food, drinks and a country band.

Dance music drifted across the open field. The bandstand threw light out over the dancers as they gyrated in the grass near it. More dancers further away were lit by the full moon. Kate and Sam invited me to accompany them to the dance. They saved me from spending a dull evening on my own in the hotel. Sam, Kate, and I swirled around each other in our own dance form. We laughed, giddy and happy. A hand tapped my shoulder.

“Would you like to dance?” he said.

“I am dancing.” Keeping the rhythm, I turned to face him.

“Maybe a different dance?” He cocked his head and smiled. Dark brown eyes glinted in the lunar light.

I stopped. Kate and Sam became a couple and whirled away from me.

“A dark eye,” she had said, “and a long stride.” Those words from the crone came to my mind.

I sized him up. Long legs in Levis – maybe six foot two, definitely a long stride. Interesting.

“I’m with friends,” I said, looking over my shoulder to find them.

“They don’t seem to need your part in the dance. We’ll keep an eye out for them.” He took my hand and put his arm around my waist. When his hand met mine, an electrical shock consecrated the connection. I was immediately at attention. I looked around not for Kate, but for the crone.

A chance encounter on a hot September evening, or was it?

I was steered by a strong lead into the middle of the dance floor.  He put his face against my hair and the strong scent of musk and pine infused my senses.  The dance was effortless, like being guided by remote control.  I didn’t particularly like partner dancing but hey, this was great. We danced until the band began to pack up. We barely talked. I was swept into his realm unconsciously. The time flew by. I looked around for Kate or Sam. I didn’t see them. Sam told me they might leave early, but I could call if I needed a ride.  My dance partner asked if he could drive me back to my hotel.

“I don’t really know you.”

“You’ve spent two hours in my arms. What more do you need to know?”

“I mean…”

“Ok, call your friends and I’ll stay here with you until they come get you.”

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and called Kate’s number. No answer. I called Sam’s. Same – no answer. That was strange. They knew they had to give me a ride back. I wondered where they were.

“Let’s go to the parking lot, maybe they are there waiting for me.”

“I am here with the Art Show, too. I’ll be happy to take you back to the hotel.”

“You’re an artist?”

“I’m a painter.”

“Where is your exhibit room?”

“Second floor, near the end of the atrium, where the sculpture exhibits are.”

“Kate’s a sculptor. Her room is on the first floor just below you.”

“I thought I recognized her. I’ve seen her work. She’s good. This is the first year I’ve been invited to participate in the Show.”

I was feeling a little more comfortable, but still wondering about Kate and Sam.

They were not in the parking lot. Their car was gone.

“Well, okay,” I said. “I guess I’ll go back with you.”

“Want to go to the bar for a drink before we go to our rooms?” He asked as we walked into the hotel lobby.

“No, I’m concerned about my friends. I’m going up to see if they are back. I need to turn in anyway. Tomorrow will be a busy day. Kate usually gets a lot of customers the first day of the show, sales and commissions.”

“Okay. I’m sure we’ll see each other again sometime this weekend. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Laura. What’s yours?”

“Septimo.”

“That’s unusual,” I said.

“I come from a large Italian family. I was the last child of many, and they ran out of names, so they gave me a number.”

“Number?”

“Yeah. Septimo means seventh.”