Major Arcana: sex, love, and Tarot

Prologue: The Cards

Rosemary sat in the back room of Triple Goddess Herb Shop, drinking a huge mug of chamomile tea and feeling sorry for herself. She'd been dumped. Again. This time the sad, nascent relationship had made it all of three months before disintegrating beneath the barest discussion of a long-term future. Jason had all but run for the hills when she'd finally mentioned her dream of kids and a husband.

"Listen, sweetheart, you're going about it all wrong," Parsley said. She poured herself another cup of tea, even as she handed Rosemary a fresh Kleenex. "For years it's been this way, just a parade of losers. You get all of one week to mourn this guy, and then it's time to get back on the train."

"Yeah," Rosemary sniffled. "You're right. As usual."

"I know. Big sisters are always right."

Rosemary rolled her eyes, but she couldn't argue. Parsley always did seem to be right. She was a true child of the sixties. Not exactly a Woodstock baby – Mom had been just a couple years too young to participate in the great bacchanal – but definitely the product of a flower-child San Francisco summer. The second sister, Sage, had been born in Seattle while Mom was exploring her (nonexistent) African-American roots. Rosemary and her twin brother, Thyme, arrived a few years later. Mom was a huge Simon & Garfunkel fan.

"I just don't understand, Parsley. Why does this always happen to me? It's like, everything starts out fine, but the minute I mention the idea of a real, you know, commitment, the guy disappears."

"It's because you keep picking losers. I should know – I've had my share of those, too. But I figured it out, thank god. And I sure as hell know more about men than you!"

That was certainly true. Parsley had been married three times. Once at eighteen – bad idea; it didn't even last a year before the football star dumped his quirky-but-adorable girlfriend-turned-accidental-wife. Next came the inevitable bad boy phase. Parsley let him grind her down, but as soon as the abuse got physical she got smart again. Got rid of him in a hurry, too; restraining orders help in those kinds of situations. Now, proving that the third time's the charm, she was with Lorenzo. A kind, soft spoken man, he was completely devoted to her... and to his home landscaping business. His hard work permitted Parsley to continue her relaxed career path as "junior herbalist consultant" at Triple Goddess.

"I know," Rosemary said with a sigh. "I just don't know how to do any better. I mean, how do you even meet guys nowadays? I'm thirty-three, not a crazy college girl going out every night."

"Well, Mom managed it several times over, with totally different types, so you must be able to!"

Parsley chuckled at her joke. They loved their mom, but she was a real character. None of the four had the same father (except Rosemary and Thyme, of course, being twins). Parsley was fair-skinned, with blond hair, blue eyes, and freckles like their mother. Sage was clearly half Black. But, although she often wistfully speculated that her dad might have been Jimmi Hendrix, nobody noticed any real resemblance to the famous guitarist. Thyme and Rosemary, on the other hand, were the product of a four-month trip to Korea. Yup, Mom had definitely been busy, and she had been liberal in her affections.

None of them ever met their fathers. They'd been raised by their loving hippie of a mother, and mostly by their grandparents. Solid boulders in the midst of Mom's rippling, frivolous stream, Nana and Baba had always been there. When they died two years ago – within a month of each other – it had broken Rosemary's heart. Her siblings', too.

"I've been telling you forever," Parsley went on, "You need to look into yourself, first. You need the Tarot."

Not this again. Rosemary barely concealed a groan of exasperation.