THE VALLEY by Greg Porterfield
Chapter 4
The entire main street of Cove stretches only six blocks—anchored by The Spike bar at the south end, nearest the Napa Auto Parts, and The Emporium on the north toward the fruit packing plant. Between the two ends of town, the Allied Grocery Store sits mid-way along the west side of the street with the old movie theater, hardware, and blacksmith buildings standing along the east side. A few shops trail off on either side of the theater-turned-church and in one of these shops—painted a bright yellow—the otherwise darkened street is illuminated by lights at the Botanica Mistica.
Tim holds Susan’s hand as they make their way between the cars and trucks parked along the street. Crossing the otherwise deserted road they head toward the fortune teller’s shop.
“Well, it looks like she’s still open.”
“Are you sure you want to do this, Tim? I had my fortune told back in high school, and it freaked me out a little.”
“Why? What did they tell you?”
Susan stops walking and turns to look soberly into Tim’s eyes. Then, speaking in a near whisper—“Well, she said … it was an old gypsy woman … she told me that I would need to work very hard for five years, but then, I would find a tall, dark-haired man working at a circus as a clown. We would fall in love, and although we would be quite poor, he would drag me off into the middle of nowhere, and we would become goat herders and die in poverty.” Susan watches Tim’s face contort as he figures out that he has fallen for yet another one of his wife’s yarns.
“Very funny. Particularly liked the part about the circus clown. Come on, let’s meet our gypsy.”
Botanica Mistica appears pretty much the same as the last time they looked through the front window, except this time the woman is standing behind the counter up front, busy straightening a few items. As they walk toward the entrance, the woman glances up and smiles. The sign hanging at the front door displays a green circle to indicate the shop is open.
A pleasant little bell rings as they enter and the woman continues to straighten the items on the top of the counter. “Let me know if you have any questions,” she offers with just the slightest of accents. Possibly Mexican or Southern.
Her long, dark hair cascades down her back and is pulled from her face, held in place by two large combs with ruby-colored stone accents. Her face is thin with high cheekbones and a narrow nose, slightly tweaked, as if broken at some point. Thin, gold hoops dangle from her earlobes. Emerald green eyes shine from beneath thick, dark eyelashes and her plump lips are painted a deep, nearly purple, red.
As she rests her hands on the counter, long, thin fingers, without any rings, carry the same deep red at the tips, and a single gold bracelet circles her left wrist. Her dress is understated, as is her jewelry. Wearing a long, dark skirt, with a thin line of gold trim just above the bottom hemline, and an emerald-green, long-sleeved blouse—she looks exotic and refined. Her appearance is accented by a thin, gold chain, from which a large fire opal pendant dangles.
Tim and Susan stand bewitched by the look of the woman and notice a faint odor of sage wafting through the air, but there are other subtle smells that mix and blend. They have entered an exotic realm.
“My name is Astra. Welcome to my shop.”
“Eh … we stopped by the other night but it didn’t look like you had opened yet and …”
“I knew you would return. I was working in the other room that night and saw you standing before my window. I’m glad your path brought you tonight.”
“Astra, I’m Susan and this is my husband, Tim. We live up the road and your front window suggests you might be a fortune teller.”
“For some, the fortune is told and for some, it may be revealed.”
“Would you have the time to, well, tell us what you see for us? You know, our future.”
“Of course. Is it not the purpose of your visit? Please follow me.”
Astra moves from behind the counter and appears to float smoothly to the door at the rear of the front display room. Passing the large painting of a tattered priest on the wall, Tim can feel the eyes of the central figure in the painting following them as they enter the back room. This inner room is windowless with a matching five-panel exit door opposite their entry into the room. It is nearly square and painted a subtle peach color that contrasts with dark, overhead beams.
Setting on a deep burgundy-colored rug, a small circular oak table occupies the center of the room. Three antique straight-backed chairs surround the table that is partially covered by a white, tightly woven, square table covering. On the sidewall, a 36-drawer apothecary cabinet centers on the wall, and on either side, there are floor-to-ceiling shelves. Many of the shelves hold a variety of candles, glass containers, boxes of religious items, small iconic and animal sculptures, books, crystals, animal bones, scarves, framed pictures, labeled plastic bags, and boxes of herbs and dried plants.
On top of the apothecary cabinet, an antique brass Aladdin oil lamp, with an amber shade, gives the room a warm glow. Next to the lamp is a white porcelain mortar and pestle, and centered on top of the cabinet is a jeweled knife scabbard containing an ebony-handled knife. A small ivory carving of the Virgin Mary hangs on the wall behind the cabinet. Across the room are a modern leather sofa and a rectangular oak coffee table. A number of old books, populated with numerous bookmarks, are located haphazardly across its surface. A reading lamp dangles from the ceiling at the end of the sofa.
“Please take a seat at the table,” Astra says, indicating two of the chairs. As Tim and Susan sit down, she continues, “I’ll be back in a minute; just need to lock up and turn the sign around.”
In a moment, Astra returns and quietly closes the door to her inner sanctum.
“Before we begin, I need you to select one of the candles off the shelf to the left of the cabinet. Any one you like; any color, any of the small glass containers is fine.”
“Go ahead Susie. You choose.”
Susan stands and walks around behind Tim to the shelf filled with little candles, each inside a small clear glass container. There are at least a dozen different colors of wax candles. Susan thinks for a minute before selecting a deep, royal blue and returns to the table. “I think this one is nice.”
Astra takes the candle from Susan and carefully positions it in the center of the table. She folds the white square table covering so that each of the four corners touch the edge of the small glass container containing the candle. This produces a smaller square with the folds creating a cross with the candle at the center. Turning to the apothecary cabinet, she opens one of the top center drawers and produces a small, polished dark-wooden box. She sets it on the table to the left of the chair she will occupy.
Next, Astra retrieves a shallow crystal vessel from another of the drawers and partially fills it with a clear fluid from a stoppered carafe. The crystal bowl is so thin and delicate it resembles a soap bubble cut in two. It is positioned on the table just to the right of her chair. Circling clockwise behind Tim and Susan, she orbits the table, returning to stand before the cabinet.
With her back to her two seekers, Astra opens first one drawer then another of the cabinet, removing a pinch of something from each drawer. The mysterious substances are deposited into the white porcelain mortar. Seemingly satisfied, Astra mutters some unintelligible phrase as she carefully grinds the mixture with the pestle until it is thoroughly reduced to a fine powder.
Opening another of the drawers, she extracts a small square sheet and folds the paper in half, then pours the mixture from the mortar onto it. Turning, she carries the mixture to the table and ever so carefully, creates a near-perfect circle of the pulverized material around the white square of cloth with the candle at its center.
Astra then adjusts the lighting in the room by turning down the Aladdin lamp until it is barely glowing. Circling the table again, this time counter-clockwise, she pulls out her chair to sit across from the bewildered couple. Extracting a wooden match from a pocket in her skirt, Astra lights the royal blue candle at the table’s center. “Shall we begin?”
