The Cathars believed in the tarot cards, they represented their history. They were not fortune telling cards but passed around in gypsy camps who spread the word about the Cathar families. Sister Clara was deemed a Magician in the tarot cards coupled with the wheel, that’s why she was chosen for this position, it equals Force. For now as she sat in her chair, knitting bidding her time until Luci’s strength recovered. Others will come soon and take her place.
Luci did not speak, not a word. She felt empty. She bear close, staring out the window into the Del Monte Forest. She stared at a dead tree, the leaves rustling in the air. A red woodpecker, its head bobbing, repeatedly punched holes into the bark.
Luci lay still on the sterile, white sheets, as if she had died along with her parents. She felt a sense of urgency, a foreboding of something to come. It frightened her.
Nurses came and went during their daily shifts. The doctor and her entourage of resident doctors would come regularly and check on her leg.
A week later a social worker came and told her they hadn’t found her relatives yet but they would keep looking. Luci didn’t even look at her; she stared into the dead tree that had begun to sprout gold and orange leaves. Somehow, it had survived the storm they’d had the week before. The storms in Monterey could be fierce, felling a number of trees. When walking in the Del Monte forest you always had to be careful.
Luci’s childhood memories were happy, fun even. Then in a split second, her parents were taken away and a dark storm rained down. Things will never be the same Luci thought.