Crystal Ball Persuasion

By LESLEY FLETCHER

When Jules and Gypsy find themselves at a crossroad in their respective lives, synchronicity begins to develop.

An old premonition and a gypsy reading draws Jules into a relationship she could never have imagined, while Gypsy uses the opportunity to take on a dream she had not thought possible – to leave her life behind even at a tremendous risk to her life.  Both had a lot to lose, but as it turns out, much more to gain.

Although they hail from two very different backgrounds, both economically and socially, there is a tie that binds them together; womanhood and all it entails.

While on a quest and while travelling to distant lands, they discover a friendship neither fathomed. An alliance forms, despite the odds.  Their commonalities surface above all else as they bond, laugh, cry and discover the answers to questions they had not thought of asking.

From the east coast of the USA, to Iraq, Turkey, England and Jordan, the whirlwind of adventure, fun and heartbreak never stop.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inspiration Import
• Release date: Jun 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9780986533280

LESLEY FLETCHER

Whether it is a five star hotel or a sleeping bag on the ground, Lesley easily adjusts to and enjoys each moment. She loves to laugh, listen to music, dance, exercise, travel and delve deeper into what makes humanity tick. Lesley Fletcher is a Montreal writer and visual artist, dividing her time between the two crafts while juggling the complexities involved with marketing and promotion for both her books and multiple art pieces. Creativity and peaceful surroundings feed the woman, artist and writer in her soul. Lesley maintains two blogs, freelances in both the art and writing field and recently completed her debut novel – CRYSTAL BALL PERSUASION. She is currently working on a follow up novel. Other books by this author: 5 Pillars of the Gypsy Unwritten Rules All I Want for Christmas is a Wishmas Tree Hey Angel! Prom Girls – A North American Rite of Passage

Book preview

Chapter 1

Dangling mirrors inside the tent produced a mystical sound. They were there for more than setting the mood. They had an alternate purpose. Before the next seeker entered for a reading, Gypsy would assess them and test herself on how precise her reading could be, based on looks alone. This at-a-glance experiment provided both a tool for her amusement and an insight into what was to come. The mirrors were set at such an angle that she was able to see who was next in line. No one would ever guess by looking at them. Not even Pa knew their purpose. Gypsy had a myriad of tricks that would never be shared with him or anyone else.

She only had thirty, maybe forty, seconds on a busy day to decide which avenue to take with each person’s reading. The readings were set at ten minute intervals with an offer at the door for an extra five minutes and an additional five dollars.

Pa was the salesman, time-keeper, watch person and only he handled the money. He was also her father. He stood like a bouncer at a night club for eight to twelve hours, leering, cajoling and generally making the women in line very uncomfortable. It was a wonder anyone returned or stayed, but they did. Once in a while he would relax on his stool, but for the most part he found that standing kept him more alert. Time and time again people lined up for however long it took, often twice on the same day, to receive a reading from Gypsy.

She looked the part. Her dark hair was long, wavy, a bit disheveled and held together with a series of scarves and bright barrettes. Her wrists, fingers and neck were draped with colorful, glittering, jangling jewelry. Mascara lay thick on her already long lashes and dark lipstick glowed on her lips. She represented the quintessential fortune teller, complete with a deck of cards, a massive crystal ball and gold hoop earrings.

Gypsy felt like a fake every time she donned her makeup, hairdo,  jewels, and clothing each day. But she knew better. She was far from a fake. Her readings were frighteningly accurate to many of her customers. She had a gift that was undeniable. She was born with it. From the moment they removed her caul upon her entrance into the world, she was celebrated as a great gift. A means to a steady stream of income was mostly how she was regarded.

She hadn’t always felt this way. At twenty-seven, she had been doing this job for nineteen years. First as a helper to Ingrina, and then at thirteen years old a fully trained medium and seer, taking Ingrina’s place. Training is a loose word. Ingrina provided more than training. She provided the best friend, substitute grandmother and mentor Gypsy could ever imagine. Ingrina, long buried, still stopped by from time to time, offering encouragement and love to Gypsy when she needed it most. It wasn’t as good as being held by her and listening to sweet whispers of wisdom, songs and poetry, but Gypsy always felt better for a while after ‘speaking’ with her favorite person.

Gypsy sighed as she stood up and stretched. She checked in one of the mirrors that her beauty mark was still adhering before letting Pa know she was ready for the next seeker.

The mirrors provided some perspective on the woman now entering the tent. She was dressed in a fisherman knit sweater, jeans, expensive boots and carried her keychain on the clasp of her soft leather slouch bag. The keychain was silver with only two keys attached. One car key which looked to be a Mercedes key with a three pronged star shape raising from its surface, and one that appeared to be a house key. The house key was one of those special types; the ones that get registered and can’t be copied without identification. The chain itself held the initial ‘J’ in simple cursive form.

The rings on her left hand were removed by her while standing in line. Gypsy caught that, thinking that either Pa was eying the huge diamonds or the woman didn’t want to give away her marital status or economic status. She continued to wring her hands as though taking her rings off made her more anxious. She also continued to glance around like a nervous bird. Was she afraid of someone recognizing her? The gypsy pondered further.

Wealth was hard to miss. People thought if they dressed casually, kept their hair frizzy or wore no makeup, they would blend in with the average people, but that wasn’t true. Nails, quality clothing and posture, along with countless other traits gave this one away like so many others before her. Gypsy’s glance told her a lot of information before ever the woman entered.

She looked up with warmth flowing from her ever expressive eyes. Please come in and have a seat. Her voice was low, slightly graveled and soothing. Her tone usually had a calming effect on everyone before they had time to sit. This time was no different, as Gypsy watched the woman visibly lower her shoulders, let out a deep breath and smile simultaneously. She smiled back.

Seated, Jules took a moment to take in her surroundings. The tent was not what she expected at all. It had a soft glow emanating from the mini-lanterns hanging from the ceiling. There was a floating, pleasant scent of patchouli mixed with vanilla in the air. The walls were draped with gauzy, multi-colored fabric and hanging trinkets. The overall effect was calming and mystical. Ambient music came from somewhere unknown and unseen. The music combined with the tinkling of the mirrors was magical. It was such a vast contrast to the noisy midway that she had just walked in from.

How are you feeling today? the gypsy asked softly.

Jules felt nervous and out of place but she answered politely as most would. I’m just great thanks and you?

A smile crossed the gypsy’s face. She was truly one of the most beautiful creatures Jules had ever come across. Jules wondered if she knew the effect she had on people. She wondered if when she looked in the mirror she recognized raw, real, numinous beauty in the image looking back.

The gypsy was speaking, so Jules forced herself to concentrate. I’m just fine thanks. Is it Julie or Julia?

Jules stared in disbelief. Her eyes were met with a steady gaze.

Taken aback, Jules answered with a bit of a nod. She had no intention of showing any emotion to the woman in front of her. Actually, it’s Juliana, but everyone calls me Jules.

Ah, I see. Jules, after your maternal grandfather. How wonderful. How charming.

Jules was completely swayed, but continued to act in a cool manner. She wasn’t convinced of all this hocus-pocus stuff. She was more than a little intrigued though.

Yes, thank you, she managed to say, demurely.

Jules, do you have a photo you would like to share with me today?

It sounded like a clock was ticking loudly as she shuffled through the contents of her purse. When Jules finally retrieved it, she glanced around to find the clock but saw nothing but the tiny dangling mirrors at all heights, swaying in different directions, casting light in their reflective dance. No clock was to be found.

It must have been my heart beat, she thought to herself. Her fingers found the photo that came to mind only when the gypsy had asked. Her hands were shaking and her heart racing. Will this carnival gypsy be able to tell me something about my son? Will she shed light onto my darkest hour? Jules doubted it. She was truly expecting a generic, canned reading.

She had no idea what would take place, or how a reading would progress. It was her first time, and she wasn’t even sure what prompted her to come here. Her beloved son. Maybe he was the reason she was there. She was letting things happen at will by this point. 

She handed the photo over to the gypsy. I am at a disadvantage here. I’m sorry; I didn’t ask your name.

My name is Gypsy and it has been all my life. Like Gypsy Rose Lee, but without the last names, her mouth turned into an impish grin while she removed the velvet cover from the crystal ball in front of her. The ball, which was almost the size of a ten pin bowling ball sat slightly above the surface of the round table, held there by six jeweled, metal legs.

Gypsy studied the picture for a while, gliding her hand over the top, tracing the outline of the face and finally placing it directly under her crystal ball. She then closed her eyes, letting her hands hover only slightly above the crystal without actually touching the surface.

The whole space seemed to move. The draping fabric swayed slightly as though a light breeze had entered the tent. The mirrors danced in tiny circular motions as did the hanging trinkets and feathers. The flames appeared to burn brighter from within their tiny pots. Jules was startled by the movement. She wondered if she was just dizzy and glanced around searching for a hidden fan, but spotted nothing. She began to shake a bit. She could feel it in her legs and hands and willed herself to stop.

This all had to be part of a show, she thought to herself. But she wasn’t convinced it was a show. The silence deafened Jules. She no longer heard ‘the clock’. When she finally opened her eyes the gypsy was nodding her head, gazing through the glass as if in understanding or perhaps agreement.

The whole atmosphere was rather frightening and the chill she experienced more daunting when the gypsy finally spoke.

This is your son I am connecting to. I can’t tell if his name is Michael or David.

Michael, Jules whispered, willing herself not to shed even one single tear.

She continued, He has a message for you. He says he didn’t suffer. He knows you would wonder about that.

One tear drop fell. And then a few more. So much for her resolve. It disintegrated even faster than usual. She caught herself holding her breath for more. She trembled deep in her whole core, as though her head was going to explode. Waves of memories filtered through her mind as she listened intently for more precious information. So far it could be just a matter of pure conjecture; she tried to convince herself once again. But she sensed this was the real deal. Gypsy, with all her makeup, mirrors, lighting and veil, was not a fake, pulling in money in return for gypsy rhetoric. No.

Michael has a friend named David. They served together. I can’t make out the last name. It could be Marshall or something like that. Mitchell? David was also a marine, like your son. They served in Iraq together.

Had I given her a picture of him in uniform? She questioned herself.  No, no. It was taken before he enlisted. Jesus, this was incredible.

Yes, that’s right, Jules managed to mutter.

Michael is asking if you are able to give David a message in person. He is repeating the same sentence over and over again. ‘Tell him she’s safe with family. Tell him she’s safe with family ...’ Michael thinks David is in Montreal working security. He is asking you to find him. Michael owes David his life. ‘David saved my life. Tell her that David saved my life!’.

But Michael is dead. He died over there. Jules shouted through her tears, bringing her hands up to both sides of her cheeks, horrified at what she had just heard.

The gypsy snapped her head up.

He’s gone, Jules. I’m sorry. I have no control over his leaving.

Times up Gypsy, they heard through the flap.

Jules stood up quickly, startled by the gruff voice coming from outside. Gypsy stood too, offering back the photo.

Thank you, Gypsy. I don’t know what to say.

Bye Jules. Perhaps you’ll return. We are here for the next two days before we head south, following the sun. If not, I wish you well.

Jules dropped the photo inattentively into her bag, fetching her sunglasses and a twenty dollar bill. She handed the bill over to the gypsy without another word and made her way promptly out of the tent.

Pa chuckled lustily as Jules steamed past him. She pretended not to notice that he had deliberately stepped into to her exit path, causing her to bump into him, shoulder to shoulder. She was far too emotionally preoccupied to react to that vile man.

Relieved to hit the midway, she continued on a fast pace toward the parking lot. Life went on in living color all around her; the calls from the game booths, the delighted squeals from the people on the rides and the scents of hot dogs, pizza, and cotton candy mixed with sweat and horse manure nauseated Jules. Normally she would have enjoyed the marked change from everyday life, but today was far from normal.

Her tears refused to subside and she refused to wipe them. Her sunglasses hid most of her face anyway she reasoned. The parking lot and the privacy of her car were the only things on her mind at the moment. She tried to block out the carnival, and instead focused on picking up her pace. She had to get to her car where she would be alone, taking refuge behind the tinted windows and have time to go over all the details of the reading point by precious point.

It was just past noon and the crowds were starting. She remembered that the school children had the day off today. That must have been the reason she had to park so far back in the parking lot and why the fair opened earlier than usual. Normally, it wouldn’t be fully functional until late afternoon, staying open until midnight. It made her wonder why she had come so early to begin with. On a normal weekday, she would have had to have waited for hours. She put it down to fate. The midway was filled with whiny children and haggard parents already. Jules could hardly wait to hit the gravel path to the parking lot. She was emotionally exhausted from hearing what she did.

Finally, in the safety of her SUV she relaxed, sighed and regained some balance. Hearing that her son had been saved and knowing he had died just the same, seemed to make his death even harder to abide.

She dug out the photograph and before studying it, held it to her chest, hoping he would somehow feel her love. Hoping somehow her love would bring him home. Jules knew it was impossible but she desperately needed to feel him, touch him, speak to him and let him know just how much she loved him and missed him. She loved him in death as much as in life. The thing about losing a child is the loss is almost unbearable. The grieving has no end.

Grief for lost loved ones like parents, aunts, uncles and friends cannot compare to losing a child. The hollow is without cushion. The void without substance enough to ever fill. The pain without a cure. And so holding the photo close was but a gesture. It burned where it touched. It burned through her chest and into her heart. It burned her hand at the same time. She heaved with sorrow as though only today she had heard the news. It was like that on many days. The grief, combined with what life dished out was almost too much to navigate.

She allowed herself some time. Time to connect with herself and time to examine what had just transpired. Time to cry, time to mourn and finally time to dry her tears and think.

She took a quick glance at the clock on the dash. Her appointments at the spa and salon were not for another two hours. That gave her time enough to get her thoughts on paper and drive back into town. The roads wouldn’t be busy at this time, even on a Friday.

Shuffling through the glove compartment, she found a pen and notepad and began documenting the reading while everything was still fresh in her mind.

She wrote down the main groups: Name, Photo, Atmosphere, Names, Message, Confusion, and Conclusion.

Name: How did she come up with my name or at least something so close? How did she know about Grandfather?

Photo: Why did she ask for a photo? How did she know he was dead? Why did I give her that photo and not another; one of Zoe or Conrad or Mother?

Atmosphere: What caused the sudden change in atmosphere? Was it an illusion or real or part of an act?

Names: Again the names were correct. She didn’t know which one was which though. She got David’s last name – Mitchell.

Message: Many questions. Thank God he didn’t suffer. Why did she say David saved Michael’s life? What do I not know about the events leading to his death? Who is the person who is safe with family? What does this have to do with Michael’s death in Iraq? Why would David be working in Montreal? Note: Must go to Montreal ASAP. Find contact info for David. Find excuse to go there. Find out what happened!

Confusion: Why is it so important to give David the message in person? ‘Tell him she’s safe with family.’

Conclusion: Too many unanswered questions. The reading seems to be real (or is it wishful thinking). Need another reading. Note – pay for the extra time next time; check that passport is up to date. Start planning travel.

As Jules reread her notes, she calmed down. There were a lot of questions that she needed answers to. This whole incident had upset her equilibrium. The balance she worked so hard to maintain had been blown up by one ten minute session with a carnival gypsy. Whatever had she been thinking to go to a fortune teller to begin with? The women at the club would have a field day if ever they found out. She wished she could tell someone, but the risk of it spreading would be too high. The temptation of gossip was alive and well and living at the country club even with those few she considered as friends.

It didn’t take too much to upset her these days. Actually, ever since Michael’s death, her mother’s death; or was it ever since her relationship with her daughter disintegrated, or was it since she was sure her suspicions about her husband were right? Or was it before life with Conrad began; was it since her own father signed over the trust her grandfather had left her, to her husband all those years ago.

She allowed herself one last long, drawn out sigh, turned the radio on, and headed for the spa. Jules and Conrad were hosting a cocktail party at their home before attending a major fundraising dinner at the club. She had a lot to do before six o’clock.

Chapter 2

Fae arrived to take over the readings, finding Gypsy preparing to leave. She wrapped her crystal ball carefully and placed it into her backpack. Fae had her own much smaller crystal that fit on the same pedestal. They didn’t bother acknowledging each other. Their relationship was always teetering on the edge of fighting so they found it best to ignore each other's presence most days. It had become comfortable in its oddness. It was as though they were not sisters at all, but rather distant strangers who performed the same role in a family.

The crystal Gypsy so carefully handled and guarded was gifted to her by Ingrina. It represented more than the ability to glimpse into the seekers’ lives and secrets. It carried history and with that history it provided magic, warmth and comfort to Gypsy. When she was younger, Ingrina showed her how to polish it using saliva and a soft cloth. To this day she cleaned and polished it in the same manner. The ball was her most valued possession. Even Pa knew to keep away from it. Fae learned the hard way when several years ago Gypsy caught her practicing with it. She never dared to touch it again.

Gypsy stopped on her way out to get her cut from Pa. He kept seventy-five percent of the earnings. He claimed it was to pay rental space, upkeep the tent and candles and give him some pocket change. She knew better, but left the subject alone. She had enough for what she needed and was able to put away enough for what she wanted. The twenty she was given by Jules along with a few other tips went straight into savings. Her cash stash was a carefully guarded secret and had been for years. Ingrina taught her much more than scrying and finding her third eye. She taught her carnival life survival skills as well.

She could hardly wait to get back to her motel room. She paid for it, daily from her cut. While she had the money to pay for the whole week in advance, it was best everyone believed she lived day to day. Most motel operators knew and liked her so offered her monthly rates, paid daily, though she never stayed a full month in one place. The trailer that housed Ma, Pa and Fae was parked outside her door. It was like this in every small town on the circuit. Pa gave her a hard time for years, but she fought him ferociously on every point until finally he gave up and gave in. It was her oasis. Her absolute need for privacy and alone time was worth every slap, threat and screaming match that took place with Pa. She won, but it was a hard, three year fight. Bobby would have been proud of her.

Bobby was the reason for the motel room to begin with. She and he married at a young age, both being only seventeen. Ma and Pa allowed them to rent a room with the stipulation that they arranged for the trailer to be hooked up in the parking lot of each motel on the route. Gypsy and Bobby were only too happy to comply by paying a surcharge to the motel owners from their meager earnings. 

It was four years of bliss; playing, living and working with Bobby. Ma and Pa, who saw him as a high cash prospect, were careful not to rock any boats or interfere with their relationship. Having a strong young man in the family was a valuable asset to them.

The accident that ended his life haunted Gypsy day and night even now, six years later. As she allowed the thought of his love for her to enter her psyche she instinctively placed her hands on her abdomen. Their unborn baby perished the same day he died. Picturing their two souls forever together gave her the solace needed to handle going on with her own life.

Bobby. The thought of him made her ache to feel his arms around her. She could only imagine his breath on her neck and his whispers of love. The intimacy they shared was what dreams were made of. He was the love of her life and she of his. They had planned and fantasized about leaving this life and building a better future, complete with a family of their own. Bobby agreed circuit life and the moving around was not the sort of lifestyle to nurture their children. He wanted their children to go to school, play in parks, run on grass and have advantages neither he nor Gypsy had the privilege to experience. They knew as they planned that it would be a risky move given that they provided much of the income for Ma and Pa, but they were determined to take the risk, even if it meant living in hiding. It just wasn’t the great gypsy way. There would have been hell to pay, but they felt invincible, having each other's back and with vigilant preparation.

Gypsy shook away her memories and dreams for the sake of her sanity and proceeded down the midway to the parking lot. Peace and quiet was only a short ride away. She stopped to pick up some chicken from Chick Charlie who had already set two of the best pieces aside for her, as usual.

Hi Charlie! How are you today? Gypsy treated him to her bright smile.

Ah, the light of my day has arrived. The most beautiful woman of the fair graces my humble establishment. Seeing you I am very well indeed, Charlie bowed formally as they laughed in unison. You found yourself a man yet Gypsy?

Nope, I’m still taking auditions for the role...you interested?

The old man blushed. I’m no use to you, my young lady, but if I were forty years younger, I’d be there for the auditions.

Gypsy cherished her flirt time with Charlie. It made her feel good and made him feel good, too. This was what she would miss most when her plans finally came into play.  If ever they came into play.

She dug in her pocket for a five dollar bill, pushing it into Charlie’s hand. As usual he refused it and as usual she told him to give it to his gorgeous granddaughter. Sometimes she told him to buy his daughter Emma a rose or a little something extra. As long as he didn’t feel he was taking it for the food, he accepted it. It was part of the game they played. Yes, she would miss the old guy.

She leaned across the counter as he offered his cheek and she gave him a kiss. Bye, Charlie. I am off home now. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m not working so I can come by and give you a hand, okay?

You just relax tomorrow. I’m fine here. Emma’s coming by to help out. Stop and say hello though. I’ll put some of them ribs you like on the side for you. Have a good night, honey.

You’re the best, Charlie. See you later.

Gypsy had only one more stop to make before she got on her motorcycle and headed to the motel.

She ducked into the public washroom to remove her skirt, tugged her earrings from her ears, and then pulled out her jeans and leather jacket from her backpack. Before doing so she lay an old towel down to stand on. It was not the best of changing rooms, just the only option. To use any other would mean making arrangements with one of the others on the midway and she would prefer not to owe anyone anything or be delayed further by having to get into a conversation every day. Careful to keep her crystal wrapped safely she stuffed her skirt and headband inside her bag, and then headed off to her private refuge.

Motel life for most people would not be up to scratch, but for Gypsy, it was her idea of paradise. A bed of her own, a table, a chair, a closet, a few drawers and a bathroom with a shower. She knew it would be a luxury for most of the people that worked the carnival circuit. She sensed there was a lot of jealousy directed toward her for her ‘high standards’. Her profession came in very handy in that respect though because they were all fearful of her and her gift and powers. Sometimes the malocchio snuck through and would be so bad she would have to stop everything to remove it. Ingrina had left her a Bible she kept for occasions where the evil eye struck like a lightning bolt all over her head and body, leaving her weak, and in emotional as well as physical pain. Her head would throb as though a vice was strangling her temples. Others called it a migraine headache. It was nothing like a migraine; it had a stamp of its own that could not be tempered by any medication. Medication produced a zero effect. That is how she distinguished it was a malocchio; a curse meant to harm its subject with a vengeful motive, rendering them incapable of normal functions for a few days.

The prayer Ingrina taught her to lift the curse was from mixed and Italian tradition and had to be taught only on the night before Christmas day. She told her it was the best method and not to waste her time with what others had to say. Ingrina was like that. She was a wealth of knowledge, spells and tricks along with having a strong personality.

It happened about five times a year. Gypsy would take out the worn Bible and pass it over her own head thirteen times; once for Jesus and once for each of the apostles. With this she recited the Lord’s Prayer. Following the prayer she would prepare a shallow plate of water and drop exactly nine drops of olive oil onto the water’s surface. Ingrina explained that the olive oil for a person affected by the evil eye would dissipate whereas if the person was not carrying a malocchio the oil would remain in separate globules. Then, taking a knife cut through the water and olive oil twice, making the sign of the cross and recite:

"Eye to evil eye, eye stabs evil eye, evil eye bursts and leaks,

In the name of Saint Mary, evil eye shall pool and bleed.

Each day for every day thy