Nora Roberts - Mind Over Matter

H ed expected a crystal ball, pentagrams and a few tea leaves. Burning candles and incense wouldnt have surprised him. Though he wouldnt admit it to anyone, hed actually looked forward to it. As a producer of documentaries for public television, David Brady dealt in hard facts and meticulous research. Anything and everything that went into one of his productions was checked and rechecked, most often personally. The truth was, hed thought an afternoon with a fortune teller would bring him a refreshing, even comic, relief from the daily pressure of scripts, storyboards and budgets. She didnt even wear a turban.

The woman who opened the door of the comfortable suburban home in Newport Beach looked as though she would more likely be found at a bridge table than a sance. She smelled of lilacs and dusting powder, not musk and mystery. Davids impression that she was housekeeper or companion to the renowned psychic was immediately disabused.

Hello. She offered a small, attractive hand and a smile. Im Clarissa DeBasse. Please come in, Mr. Brady. Youre right on time.

Miss DeBasse. David adjusted his thinking and accepted her hand. Hed done enough research so far to be prepared for the normalcy of people involved in the paranormal. I appreciate your seeing me. Should I wonder how you know who I am?

As their hands linked, she let impressions of him come and go, to be sorted out later. Intuitively she felt he was a man she could trust and rely on. It was enough for the moment. I could claim precognition, but Im afraid its simple logic. You were expected at one-thirty. Her agent had called to remind her, or Clarissa would still be knee-deep in her vegetable garden. I suppose its possible youre carrying brushes and samples in that briefcase, but I have the feeling its papers and contracts. Now Im sure youd like some coffee after your drive down from L.A.

Right again. He stepped into a cozy living room with pretty blue curtains and a wide couch that sagged noticeably in the middle.

Sit down, Mr. Brady. I just brought the tray out, so the coffees hot.

Deciding the couch was unreliable, David chose a chair and waited while Clarissa sat across from him and poured coffee into two mismatched cups and saucers. It took him only a moment to study and analyze. He was a man who leaned heavily on first impressions. She looked, as she offered cream and sugar, like anyones favorite auntrounded without being really plump, neat without being stiff. Her face was soft and pretty and had lined little in fifty-odd years. Her pale blond hair was cut stylishly and showed no gray, which David attributed to her hairdresser. She was entitled to her vanity, he thought. When she offered the cup, he noted the symphony of rings on her hands. That, at least, was in keeping with the image he had projected.

Thank you. Miss DeBasse, I have to tell you, youre not at all what I expected.

Comfortable with herself, she settled back. You were expecting me to greet you at the door with a crystal ball in my hands and a raven on my shoulder.

The amusement in her eyes would have had some men shifting in their chairs. David only lifted a brow. Something like that. He sipped his coffee. The fact that it was hot was the only thing going for it. Ive read quite a bit about you in the past few weeks. I also saw a tape of your appearance on The Barrow Show . He probed gently for the right phrasing. You have a different image on camera.

Thats showbiz, she said so casually he wondered if she was being sarcastic. Her eyes remained clear and friendly. I dont generally discuss business, particularly at home, but since it seemed important that you see me, I thought wed be more comfortable this way. She smiled again, showing the faintest of dimples in her cheeks. Ive disappointed you.

No. And he meant it. No, you havent. Because his manners went only so far, he put the coffee down. Miss DeBasse

Clarissa. She beamed such a bright smile at him he had no trouble returning it.

Clarissa, I want to be honest with you.

Oh, thats always best. Her voice was soft and sincere as she folded her hands on her lap.

Yeah. The childlike trust in her eyes threw him for a moment. If she was a hard-edged, money-oriented con, she was doing a good job disguising it. Im a very practical man. Psychic phenomena, clairvoyance, telepathy and that sort of thing, dont fit into my day-to-day life.

She only smiled at him, understanding. Whatever thoughts came into her head remained there. This time David did shift in his chair.

I decided to do this series on parapsychology mainly for its entertainment value.

You dont have to apologize. She lifted her hand just as a large black cat leaped into her lap. Without looking at it, Clarissa stroked it from head to tail. You see, David, someone in my position understands perfectly the doubts and the fascination people have forsuch things. Im not a radical. As the cat curled up in her lap, she continued to pet it, looking calm and content. Im simply a person whos been given a gift, and a certain responsibility.

A responsibility? He started to reach in his pocket for his cigarettes, then noticed there were no ashtrays.

Oh, yes. As she spoke, Clarissa opened the drawer of the coffee table and took out a small blue dish. You can use this, she said in passing, then settled back again. A young boy might receive a toolbox for his birthday. Its a gift. He has choices to make. He can use his new tools to learn, to build, to repair. He can also use them to saw the legs off tables. He could also put the toolbox in his closet and forget about it. A great many of us do the last, because the tools are too complicated or simply too overwhelming. Have you ever had a psychic experience, David?

He lit a cigarette. No.

No? There werent many people who would give such a definitive no. Never a sense of dj vu, perhaps?

He paused a moment, interested. I suppose everyones had a sense of doing something before, being somewhere before. A feeling of mixed signals.

Perhaps. Intuition, then.

You consider intuition a psychic gift?

Oh, yes. Enthusiasm lit her face and made her eyes young. Of course it depends entirely on how its developed, how its channeled, how its used. Most of us use only a fraction of what we have because our minds are so crowded with other things.

Was it impulse that led you to Matthew Van Camp?

A shutter seemed to come down over her eyes. No.

Again he found her puzzling. The Van Camp case was the one that had brought her prominently into the public eye. He would have thought she would have been anxious to speak of it, elaborate, yet she seemed to close down at the mention of the name. David blew out smoke and noticed that the cat was watching him with bored but steady eyes. Clarissa, the Van Camp case is ten years old, but its still one of the most celebrated and controversial of your successes.