The funeral was held four days later.  I don't remember much of it.  I seemed to be in a complete fugue, automatically functioning but everything went past my conscious thoughts.  I stood at the grave like a marble statue.  The agony and tears my mother went through, passed me like a silent express train in the night.  I cried, once, after the funeral, in the basement with a pillow jammed over my face.

     Six months later, I could no longer resist the urge to visit Madame Caroline again.  I told my secretary that I was having lunch downtown.  She looked older than she should have.  I mean, she was old to start with but, I hadn't seen her in six months and she looked like she'd aged twenty years.

     I couldn't really tell you why I went back again.  The last time, after she'd foretold my Dad's death, should have been enough for me...and it was.  But, the luck she'd predicted for me continued to grow.  I'd been promoted again, to Marketing Vice President.  My family was growing, a new baby due in four months.  Maybe that was why I went back, because of the baby.

     She walked with a cane, slowly and I sensed - painfully to her table.  This time she didn't use cards or the "upside down fishbowl".  She reached across and took my hands in hers.  I cringed.  I was afraid I'd hurt her.  Her hands and fingers were severely swollen with arthritis, but she showed no signs of pain and her grip was strong.  She stared at the table top for several minutes, before looking up.  A tear fell from her left eye.

     "What?  What is it?  Please, tell me," I said.

     She shook her slowly from side to side and whispered, "I see much turmoil.  A great deal of indecision, fear and hate."

     "I don't understand.  What's happening...I mean what do you see happening?"  My stomach clenched.  I knew I shouldn't have come back here.  Dammit!

     "I am old," she said.  "My sight has become blurred.  I cannot see what is happening, I can only feel the emotions.  But...."

     I leaned forward, my hands involuntarily squeezing hers until I realized the pain in her face and released her hands.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean...."

     She pulled her hands back and cradled them against her bossom.  She gave me a little smile and said, "It's okay."  She paused for a moment.  I was practically bouncing on my seat.  I needed to know...

     Madame Caroline's eyes were full of sadness and she couldn't meet mine for more than a second.  She lowered her head and mumbled, "I can see all of you.  You, your wife and your baby girl.  I can't see Nicolas."

     My heart stopped.  I couldn't breath.  I knew...I thought I knew what that meant.  Our son was dead, that explained the bad emotional feelings she'd mentioned.  Oh my god...how?  "What does that mean?  Is he dead?  Is it just your blurry vision?  What?  Please, I must know!"

     She slumped back into her chair.  "I cannot continue.  I see no more.  I'm sorry."

     I slammed my hands on the table, nearly knocking it over.  I stood over her, looming, threatening.  My whole body was shaking.  I was enraged at this turn of events.  I hated her...Madame Caroline....hated her!  In a voice I hardly recognized, I said, "Tell me how to stop it.  Tell me what I can do."

     She was hardly there anymore.  She seemed to have drifted off to sleep.  How could she do that?  I slapped the table again, hard enough that she jerked her head up, eyes wide as though I'd startled her out of a deep sleep.  I must have been extremely intimidating to her, leaning across the small table, practically in her face; but, she came to her senses and looked me directly in the eye, "There's is nothing you can do.  You must accept your fate.  I'm sorry, but there is no....."

     I heard no more.  I wanted to strangle her to death.  Fortunately, I didn't, but to stop myself I had to get out of there.  I stormed from her house, flinging curses and insults behind me as I went.

     I sat in the car for several minutes.  I had to get a hold of myself and my mind was moving a million miles an hour.  Nothing coherent.  Nothing that really helped the situation, but slowly I calmed down.  After ten minutes, I felt in control of myself again.  As I drove back to the office, I determined to watch Nic like a hawk.  I would not simply accept my fate.  I would prevent whatever it was from happening.  Yes, that's exactly what I'd do.

     I completely forgot that nothing would happen before the birth of our daughter, Alexandra.  Madame Caroline had seen her in the vision that didn't include Nicolas.  Sure, something could have happened to him sooner, but I remembered the emotional turmoil surrounding her vision.  That indicated to me that whatever it was had happened at that moment...after Alex.

     I was vigilant for several months.  I hardly let Nic out of my sight.  The slightest bump, scratch or fever sent us to the doctor.  I checked on him every night at least once after he'd gone to bed, sometimes as often as three times.  Nan, thought I was crazy.  Maybe I was.

     It happened when Alex was three.  Nic was supposed to be at school.  I'd driven him there myself and watched as he entered the building.  The note said, "If you want to see your son again, you'll need two million dollars.  We'll contact you in twenty four hours...."