which is how my third husband died. Unfortunately, California was no longer a safe place for me to be, because I certainly didn’t have the money to clear up his gambling debts either. And so, one week later, I moved back to Georgia with my black lab, Echo, and a new resolution to focus on myself.
Savannah still held all the quirky charm that had captiavted me at 28, and the home I mortgaged had a beautiful, neglected garden. I threw myself into the task of weeding, thinning, and transplanting, successfully losing several weeks. Then, as bills began to arrive, I realized that focusing on myself also meant relying on myself.
Unwilling to accept the stress of corporate American again, especially in this slow and easy town, I finally found work in a bookstore. Rosalie, the owner, also read Tarot cards for tourists looking for a gothic thrill, and tried unsuccessfully to get me to agree to a reading. However, on one humid July afternoon I gave into her wishes, which is when everything changed for the