The Seer by Eva Shaw

Author:Eva Shaw [Shaw, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Domestic terrorism;Suspense;Government conspiracies;Nazis;Psychics;Seers;World War II;Asian racism in WWII;New Orleans
Publisher: Light Messages Publishing
Published: 2021-08-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

At first, Beatrix dismissed the feeling that she was being watched. Yet, for a sliver of a second, she considered if she should take John’s caution to heart.

The late afternoon clouds suddenly disappeared, and the city, for the first time since Beatrix had arrived in the summer, seemed to be breathing again. Rather than heading to the office just next door, she walked toward the river, now cluttered with warehouses, trucks, and workers lifting supplies and moving materials all meant for the war effort. The air felt free, and she stood at the base of Canal Street and looked over Eads Plaza, dedicated to John Eads, an engineer who cleared the silt out of the port city.

She walked the promenade, trying to stop the constant wrestling match in her head about who would want to harm her. Not everyone is happy when learning their truths. Should I have told Thomas about the threats? Or John? The police?

The thoughts tangled more, and the knot tightened. Then she felt eyes on her, boring in, even as the sun warmed the back of her maroon wool jacket.

“Penny for your thoughts, lady?”

She jumped and swung around. “Ohhhh. Thomas.”

“I’ve been trying to send you telepathic messages to see if you want to share some dinner with me.” He smiled.

It was the first time she’d seen him genuinely smile. It relaxed his entire face.

“My apologies,” she replied. “I was deep in thought.”

“About Mr. Brockman and his circumstances?”

“No. Rather, it’s a personal matter. Shall we walk further?”

Thomas pulled the black wool fedora a bit lower to cover his eyes, bone tired of being suspected as a Japanese spy by every second citizen.

“I have been told that I am a good listener,” he said.

“As am I. So tell me, Thomas, about your family, and do they know that you’ve become a courier for the Chinese government?”

“Beatrix Patterson asking me a question when she can easily read my thoughts?” He laughed and nudged his shoulder against hers.

She nudged back. “I dislike knowing everything about everyone. We all deserve to have secrets and you ought to keep some to yourself.”

Beatrix found comfort in Thomas’s closeness, even if she didn’t want to pursue that concept at all.

“I cannot even imagine the things you have heard, come to know, and can tell about people,” he said. “Are you often shocked? Does it ever overwhelm you?”

They reached the warehouses and a federally restricted area, so they turned and headed back toward the French Quarter.

“I don’t sleep well, if that’s what you are asking,” she replied.

“I did at one time,” he said. “It seems eons ago, rather than weeks, back when I was merely a physicist at Oxford. Although, then I felt sleep was a waste of time. I understand Dr. Einstein sleeps ten hours a night, and even takes naps during the day. Often, when working on an especially problematic equation, I’d walk through the city, getting lost in the towers and my thoughts. It wasn’t unusual for me to realize I

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