Divining Avon

By Patricia Donkers and Nancy Kelly

The residents of the sleepy town of Avon, Ontario go about the business of their daily lives and then a stranger moves into the Strauss farmhouse. It is inherited by Wanda whose occupation as a psychic is as intriguing as she is to the town’s residents. Several people pay for readings and it sets off a chain of events that result in life changing decisions.
A middle aged couple’s marriage is put to the test as well as is a long term friendship. Two best friends face decisions about their current lifestyles and a large family looks for a way to escape their financial woes. The largest employer in town is affected by the readings of others close to him. With a mixture of humour and drama the stories all intermingle resulting in surprising results. Can one’s future be predicted or does the prediction influence one’s future?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Donkers
• Release date: Jan 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311705372

Patricia Donkers

The collective creativity of sisters, Patricia Donkers and Nancy Kelly arises out of a love of reading and an open mind to all of life's mysteries. Nancy lives in Orillia, Ontario with her daughter Kelly and Patricia is married with three children living in Barrie, Ontario. Stephen J. Donkers is the son of Patricia Donkers and is a graduate of film and journalism.

Book preview

DIVINING AVON

A NOVEL BY

PATRICIA DONKERS & NANCY KELLY

Divining Avon

Patricia Donkers & Nancy Kelly

Copyright © 2014 Patricia Donkers

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design: Stephen Donkers

Image Courtesy of Wiki Commons

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual person's, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

ISBN: 978-1-927027-41-7

CHAPTER 1

Crouching on her knees, Wanda anxiously rummaged through the box, taking out the heavy, musty curtains, pushing aside the jumble of incense wrapped in paper and the boxes of candles. She took a deep breath of relief when she finally found what she was searching for, protected in folds of frayed and greying silk fabric. Gently lifting the package from the box, she pulled away the scarf and hastily threw it aside, allowing it to float to the worn carpet. She closed her eyes and placed the tarot cards lovingly to her cheek. The familiar coolness of their smooth surface always calmed her.

The muffled thud of something heavy falling to the floor broke the stillness. Wanda stood up and looked around, pushing her black, curly hair out of her eyes. On the floor across the room her leather-bound appointment book lay in a heap of papers. A large white Persian cat, balanced precariously on a stack of unpacked boxes, was eyeing her guiltily.

Scorpio, there you are! Wanda crooned, wagging a jewelled finger at him.

The cat leapt to the floor and sauntered over to her. He rubbed his back against her leg, purring affectionately. How do you like our new home? She asked him fondly, scratching him behind the ears.

The cat responded by jumping up onto an old wing chair in the middle of the room. The chairs’ once lush velvet pile had worn away in spots, revealing bare patches in the arm rests, seat cushion and the back. Wanda’s pleasure at observing the cat’s contentment was momentarily distracted by the sight of the chair. Sighing, she looked around at the stacks of boxes and packages she had not yet unpacked, wondering where the lace doilies were that she usually pinned strategically to the worn spots on the chair. Scorpio did not seem to mind its shabbiness, or the absent doilies. Content with the chair’s comfortable familiarity, he arched his back in one final stretch, curled up and promptly fell asleep.

Smiling indulgently Wanda said, I’ll take that as a sign you like it here. Scorpio’s contentment was encouraging. The cat had been her constant companion for years and his well-being was important to her. It seemed to mirror her satisfaction in finally coming home. As the economy sat poised for a huge recovery from the 1990 recession, Wanda had noticed a big drop in business. She’d been through this before and realized that her business picked up during times of need and uncertainty and slowed during more prosperous times. She worried about what she should do. The unexpected inheritance of the house and land in Avon, couldn’t have come at a better time. She had just ended a bad relationship and her income was dwindling. It did seem fateful that this good luck would come to her just when she needed a fresh start.

Satisfied with Scorpio’s comfort she turned her attention back to the cards she still held in her hand. After affectionately leafing through them, assuring herself they were all there, she picked up the scarf from the floor and reluctantly wrapped it around the cards once again. Turning to the heap Scorpio had left on the floor she said to herself, I suppose this is an omen, I have to stop avoiding practical matters. Wanda resignedly gathered up the contents of her appointment book. In addition to the unpacking, there were many other preparations she had to make before she could start welcoming customers.

The phone is being connected first thing tomorrow morning, so I’d better go over to the newspaper and place my ad. I’ll have to find out where the library or archives is too, but then there’s this mess...

She spoke aloud, even though Scorpio was now clearly asleep and no longer paying attention. She had cultivated this habit after years of living alone, but never feeling alone. She always felt the presence of benevolent spirits, including her own ancestors, watching over her from beyond. She hoped they were satisfied now.

Lacing up her running shoes she glanced out the front door and saw ominous clouds rolling in from the hills beyond. The stand of willow trees across the street were bending and swaying in the wind that had whipped up to usher in a rain storm. As she paused in the hallway to pull on her raincoat she stopped to look once again at the framed black and white photograph hanging on the wall. In a symbolic gesture it had been the first thing she unpacked when she arrived the day before. The faces of the family members, all fair-haired and pale-skinned, gathered solemnly together in front of the stone farm house she now occupied. Their images were familiar to her now, especially the young girl standing beside the stern-faced father. Although the photograph was faded and yellow with age she could clearly see the face that had been haunting her dreams. Instinctively she reached to her throat and felt her heavy necklace. Running her fingers over the ivory-smooth surface of the crudely carved figurine renewed her certainty that she was right in following the path she had foreseen for herself.

She felt a surge of energy with this restored confidence and started off down the gravel driveway. Looking back she felt the same sense of pride she’d felt when she’d arrived here two days ago. The house and garden were in desperate need of maintenance but her eyes saw it fully renovated. As it stood, it was constructed of grey granite stone in the Gothic style. There was a central dormer with white verge boards that followed the roof line. Many of the panes of glass in the sash windows had been broken and Wanda had taped cardboard over the exposures until she could have them fixed. A small porch with rustic columns protected the centrally located front door that had a thin transom of paned glass. The testament to the workmanship of her ancestors was that the house was still in restorable condition after more than 100 years and Wanda knew she’d lovingly take on the task. The house’s style still fit in with the town as Wanda sensed that even though the town had grown over the years, beneath the modern developments, it was still the traditional rural farming community it had always been.

As she walked past her black and rusty ‘76 Chevy Impala, she impulsively gave the rear door a swift kick. At least the car saw fit to die in the driveway and not on the road, she said aloud. Just as she neared the tree lined and deserted roadway the rain began to fall. She quickly opened her umbrella and determinedly set out for town.

CHAPTER 2

Billy puffed and sweated as he pedaled up the long hill. Even on his mountain bike, the slope was such a struggle that when he topped the crest he always had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. Looking back in the direction from which he had come, his gaze took in the expanse of the town. Despite the distance he could hear the buzz of saws and the pounding of hammers from the new subdivision under construction at the north end of town. He was reminded of the Jacobson’s, who had sold their farm to make way for the new development. Billy’s father had insisted that, although they had made a fair deal, those who really profited in the long run lived in their mansions up here on the hill. Turning to the road ahead, he cringed as he surveyed the Romano’s monstrous house and lawns. Even in this part of town, where most of the homes were large and ostentatious, this house was conspicuous. It was a wonder Mr. and Mrs. Romano didn’t lose each other in the many rooms and corners the house held.

Billy hurled a copy of the Saturday edition of the Avon Crier down the paved, circular driveway. He barely missed the stone statue of a boy, his head wreathed in olive branches, which sprayed water up into an arch in the center of the well-manicured lawn. As the newspaper hit the pavement the tiny, bird-like figure of a woman darted out from behind the row of huge brick archways enclosing the front expanse of the house. She stooped to pick up the paper and waved to Billy before disappeared again into the shadows. Billy waved back then disappeared down the hill of Vista Drive towards the south end of town.

On the shaded terrace at the back of the house Alfredo Romano gulped the last of his morning coffee. Where is that lazy boy with my newspaper? What is his name? Billy Adler isn’t it? It should complain to the newspaper about him, he said with undisguised exasperation to his wife, who sat opposite him at the glass-topped, wrought iron patio table. The long hours Romano had spent building up his successful construction business left him with little patience for incompetence or tardiness. Alfredo restlessly combed his broad, leathery fingers through his thick and curly hair. Once jet black, it was now flecked with grey. The creases that appeared around the corners of his eyes as he squinted into the morning sunlight at his wife were further evidence of his years of struggle and hard work.

Maria Romano looked up from her needlework and silently shrugged her shoulders in response. Through their many years together she had grown accustomed to her husband’s manner, which often bordered on intolerance. Although well-acquainted with the merits of hard work herself, Maria believed that God would bring rewards to those deserving in His own good time. Patience and faith were also virtues. Maria prudently kept these thoughts to herself, and simply shifted her ample weight in the chair. As if to confirm her belief Flo scurried onto the terrace, stopped beside Alfredo, and cautiously set the newspaper beside him.

Are you finished your breakfast yet, sir? Flo asked in a small, shaky voice as she automatically refilled his coffee cup. She looked to Maria, who nodded. Let me clear those dirty dishes, so you can enjoy you paper sir.

Mmm, Alfredo grumbled in assent. He picked up the paper and snapped it open with such force that his sudden movement startled Flo, who jumped back and involuntarily let out a yelp. The tray, now laden with dirty dishes, was too heavy for her slight frame. It swayed and tilted dangerously for a few tense moments until Flo managed to regain her balance in time to save the contents from toppling over onto the patio stones. With a weak smile of apology Flo struggled back to the kitchen with her burden.

Concern creased Maria’s dark brow as she watched Flo retreat. I didn’t know she was so high-strung when we hired her. It’s no wonder she’s all skin and bones. Maybe I should have gone with the English woman after all.

Mmmm, Alfredo mumbled incoherently from behind the newspaper.

Sighing, Maria turned to gaze out over the lawns, breathing in the sweet aroma that drifted on the breeze from the early spring tulips blooming in brilliant color along the side of the terrace. As always, the sight of her healthy and abundant garden pleased her. Over the years, with careful planning and hard work, she had transformed what was once an empty field, decimated by the construction of the house, into an oasis of beauty and nourishment. Freed from the confines of the house imposed on her by the long winter, Maria eagerly anticipated the coming months. The spring flowers were beginning to bloom, the apple and cherry trees were blossoming, and the vegetables would soon begin to break above the soil of the garden. She already had plans for the tomato crop she had planted a few weeks ago. The soil was dark and rich after the heavy rain that had fallen in the last few days. She looked up at the sky, hoping the sun would continue to shine.

The sound of the phone ringing inside the house startled Maria out of her meditations. Flo appeared in the doorway. Telephone call for you Mrs. Romano.

Maria pulled herself out of her chair. Didn’t you ask who it is? I thought I told you ..... Her voice trailed off as she disappeared through the patio doors and into the darkness of the house. Alfredo continued to slowly turn pages, sipping his coffee in silence.

Moments later Maria rushed excitedly back onto the terrace. Alfie! Alfie! That was Nick. He’s coming home! My baby is coming home! she sang gaily, clapping her hands together in delight.

Alfredo dropped the instantly forgotten paper on the table and looked up at his wife in surprise. Nick? Coming home? Is he okay? Is everything all right?

Yes, yes, praise God, he sounded fine. He’s coming home. He wants us to pick him up at the airport in Toronto tomorrow afternoon.

Alfredo had risen up from his chair and was wrapping his solid arms around his wife. Good, we’ll leave right after Church tomorrow. You can light a candle for his safe journey home.

Flo, Flo! Maria shouted out, extracting herself from her husband’s arms.

Flo dashed out onto the terrace, her hands still dripping with soapy water.

There you are! Maria began to wave her hands around excitedly as she issued her instructions. Get the rest of these dishes cleared up quickly then come help me with the linen upstairs. We have to get Nick’s old room ready, he’s coming home tomorrow. She turned to Alfredo. Go get the car washed so it looks nice. Oh, there’s so much to do. Happily she rushed off to the kitchen to gather a load of cleaning supplies and headed upstairs. Alfredo followed her into the house.

Flo turned her attention to her task, but the first plate she grabbed slipped through her wet, soapy fingers and fell to the table. You’re so clumsy, Flo heard her father’s words in her head. With a heavy sigh, she dried her hands on her pants and returned to her chore. She was determined to avoid any more mishaps. She really needed to hang onto this job. It seemed to Flo that no matter how hard she tried, an accident wasn’t far away. She couldn’t understand why disaster seemed to follow her. As she gathered up the sections of the newspaper that lay spread out on the table a conspicuous advertisement caught her attention.

WANDA

PSYCHIC ADVISOR

Do you need answers or guidance?

Do you want to see your life’s future?

Call 522-1212

For your private consultation

Flo cast a nervous glance back over her shoulder, then hastily tore the page out, stuffing it in her apron pocket. She jumped when Maria called from the second floor window, Stop dawdling Flo! After loading up her arms with the rest of the dishes Flo scurried back into the house.

#

Dodging the busy Saturday morning traffic, Billy made his way back down to the main part of town. He was relieved to turn off the main road and onto a quiet, tree-lined street. Speeding past the row of red-brick townhouses he expertly tossed the papers into each driveway, hitting the front porch at least half the time. My average is improving, he thought. Those years of Little League are finally paying off. Glancing at his watch he tried to calculate whether he was going to beat yesterday’s time. He still had another bag to go. If he pushed himself maybe he would be able to convince Mr. Schneider to extend his route even further. He needed all the money he could earn if he was going to buy that electric guitar displayed in the music store window downtown. His fantasies of fame, fortune and adoring fans were interrupted by a loud barking voice.

YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE, YOU LITTLE SHITHEAD!

Billy looked back over his shoulder to see Howard Bellhouse standing on his porch, waving his large fist menacingly and rubbing his head with the other.

Sorry Mr. Bellhouse, have a nice day! Billy tossed another paper into the next driveway just as a white Mazda turned in and ran over it.

Liz Slovinski stopped her car and, sighing heavily, got out and bent over to pick up the flattened and dirty newspaper. As she leaned over, her glasses slid off her nose and landed in a puddle at her feet. She picked them up and wiped them with her coat, leaving brown streaks across the lenses. After readjusting the round, metal-framed glasses she went back to the car and began taking out the paper bags of groceries when the bottom fell out of one. Tins and apples scattered all over the driveway.

Shit! she said under her breath. It was that damn ladder I walked under this morning. I should have known better. I hope this isn’t a bad omen.

She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then tossed her long blonde hair behind her shoulders, gathered up her muddy belongings, and trudged up the stairs into the house.

Just as she got in the door the phone rang. She stopped in the hall, dancing back and forth indecisively between the kitchen counter and the phone in the living room. Her decision was made for her when the other grocery bag burst, spewing its contents all over the floor. Dropping the whole load she ran to the phone.

Hi, Liz, how’re you doing? she heard her friend Allison asking.

Well, I’ve got two bags of groceries scattered over the hall floor, and that’s just in the last five minutes, so you tell me. I hope this isn’t some kind of evil foreboding for tonight’s performance.

Don’t you worry about tonight’s performance. Its closing night and your students have done so well all week, everyone says so. What could go wrong now? You had such a positive attitude before the opening show.

Yeah, well that night I knew it was going to be okay. We had a bad dress rehearsal, which always means a good opening night.

Allison laughed. You should have as much faith in your own abilities as you do in your signs and omens. Don’t worry about tonight Liz; remember Frank and I will be in the audience, we’ll give you moral support. That should mean more to you than your omens.

"Hey, don’t laugh. I may be the one who caused all that rain we had. I killed a spider in the bathroom and next