The Astral Ordinance, Ayshen's Story Read online

She took another lungful of the jasmine scent and moved on to admire the calla lilies. She went from plant to plant admiring their beauty and smelling their beautiful scents. It was a feast to the eyes and to the olfactory senses. She forgot about the impending mystical consultation with the old lady and lost herself among the plants.

  “Ayshen, come back here, dear,” Mother called smiling ear to ear. “It’s our turn.”

  Ayshen walked back to her mother’s side, but she was no longer feeling anxious. The plants had done their magic on her.

  An old woman, who looked to be in her eighties, waved them in to the private reading room. The first thing that hit Ayshen’s senses was the floral notes in the air. She immediately identified jasmine and honeysuckle from the garden. There were no potted plants or cut flowers in the room, but the scents of the garden outside definitely were present in the room. A four poster bed was in one corner, covered in a crocheted bedspread. Similarly hand crocheted drapes adorned the windows. There was a single wooden chair; the divan next to it was also covered with a white crocheted spread. On the wall was a framed piece of art, depicting a hand with an eye in the center of its palm.

  Ayshen felt goosebumps rise all over her body. Something in the art made her senses go on full alert. She looked at the old woman. Their eyes locked.

  “Hello,” Ayshen said not wanting to be rude.

  “Welcome, child.”

  Fatma Nene showed the divan to the mother and daughter.

  “Please, have a seat,” she said.

  They thanked the old woman and sat on the divan and did not cross their legs out of respect to her.

  “We are here to have a reading, if you please, about my daughter,” Ayshen’s mother said.

  “I know.” The old woman smiled and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Her lips moved silently.

  She was praying.

  Mother held her breath.

  Ayshen watched the scene unfold as if she was looking upon herself – similar to an out of body experience. The sensation was bizarre to say the least.

  Fatma Nene took the silver bowl from her small table and poured water into it, from a plain glass bottle. She gazed into the water and the floodgates opened.

  “You are a teacher,” she said.

  Mother nodded enthusiastically.

  I already knew that, Ayshen thought.

  “You have a mind of your own; you don’t like to be told what to do.”

  Mother kept nodding.

  “Your family is pressuring you to accept one of the marriage offers you are getting, settle down and raise a family.”

  Mother looked from the old woman to Ayshen to see her reaction. Ayshen remained stoic; she tried to show no emotion on her face. She didn’t want to make the reading easy for the fortune teller. So far, the old woman hadn’t said anything that she couldn’t guess. Why would a mother take her single daughter to a fortune teller if not to hear about marriage prospects?

  “You want to fall in love, be courted before you say yes.”

  Ayshen went beet red. Ooops! The cat is out of the bag.

  Mother blew out the breath she was holding and shook her head from side to side. What am I going to do with this girl?

  “Do not be tempted to say no out of habit. That is what you do now to every prospect that comes your way.” The old woman smiled. “You will fall in love as you wish, but you must allow him to get close to you.”

  Ayshen sat up straighter. Fatma Nene had her full attention.

  “You will meet him when you least expect it.”

  Mother was confused. She was losing control of the situation. “When?” She asked.

  “Soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “Engagement will take place on New Year’s Eve.”

  Mother clapped her hands; happy tears welled in her eyes. “Thank God.”

  “You will marry shortly after that.”

  “What’s he look like?” Mother was asking all the questions while Ayshen listened carefully.

  The old woman smiled again. “Tall, blond, blue eyes, handsome, well educated, in a good position with the railroads, financially secure. He will be devoted to you.”

  Ayshen’s lips parted in astonishment, and then she quickly closed her mouth, deeply embarrassed. She didn’t want to be too eager.

  “What about his lineage? Does he have a good name? A respectable family? Where is he from?” Mother’s questions came out in rapid-fire succession.

  “Yes, he comes from a good family. He lives here; he is not from a far-away place.”

  Mother sighed deeply. A tall handsome stranger was not going to whisk her only daughter away. Thank God for small favours.

  “You have a strong intuition, but you mistake it for logic. You know things, but tell yourself anyone could have figured it out. Do not dismiss your gift, child. You have great potential.”

  Mother was lost. What was the old Nene talking about? Ayshen was not a believer in anything mystical.

  “Come back and see me again.” Fatma Nene was speaking directly to Ayshen now, not her mother.

  “When?” Ayshen asked.

  “You will know.”

  “And you dear, go home and make your preparations for this young lady’s nuptials. Your wish will come true sooner than you think.”

  Mother dug into her purse for her wallet. She wanted to pay Fatma Nene for the wonderful reading she had given them.

  The old woman shook her head. “I do not take payment for my services,” she said.

  “But how can I thank you?” Ayshen’s mother insisted.

  “Do not speak of this visit to anyone. What I told you today will stay in this room. If you speak of it, you will dilute the strength of the reading.”

  “Oh dear,” Mother said. “What will I say to my mother-in-law when we go home?”

  “She will not remember to ask you about it. Don’t remind her.”

  “Thank you so very much,” Mother said. “I will never forget this wonderful service you have done for us this day.”

  “Go with God,” Fatma Nene let them out of her private room.

  “Do you believe her?” Ayshen asked her mother on the drive back home.

  “Absolutely,” Mother said.

  “Remember, you can’t tell anyone about this visit.”

  “Yes, I will hold my tongue. I promise.”

  A couple of months later Ayshen received a bouquet of flowers at school. During recess, she went to the Teachers’ Lounge for her morning coffee when one of the custodians approached her with an incredibly beautiful bouquet.

  “Miss Ayshen, these came for you.”

  Ayshen did a double take. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes Miss. There is a card here; it has your name on it.”

  Ayshen forgot about the coffee and took the flowers. The small card simply said, Have a wonderful day!

  There was no signature or a name.

  Ayshen’s heart missed a beat. Was this a joke?

  She tried to compose herself. All the teachers present in the lounge were giving her curious looks.

  “Nice flowers.” One of them said.

  Ayshen smiled.

  “Will you be having a cup of coffee, Miss?” A server asked her.

  “Yes, please,” Ayshen said and walked to the kitchen to fetch a vase for her flowers. The custodian ran to help her.

  Ayshen was sure everyone was watching her. It was that or her imagination was working overtime.

  Who would send her flowers? She had no idea.

  Ayshen faced a huge dilemma. Would she keep the flowers at school or take them home? If she kept them at school, she might earn herself more curious glances. If she took them home….Oh God….she didn’t want to even think about the excitement her mother would create.

  She had no explanation for the flowers. They couldn’t be from one of the parents of her students. If they were, they would have signed their name and it would have been a thank you card, not a mystery one, and the bouquet
wouldn’t be such an elaborate creation.

  Ayshen took the flowers to her class with her. She set them in the far right corner of her classroom among the books and projects that were displayed there. She hoped the flowers would blend in and not attract too much attention.

  Right!

  Her students spotted the bouquet immediately; it caused a happy chatter among them.

  “Who gave you those flowers?”

  “Was it Mehmet?” One of the boys asked.

  Ayshen was really startled by this question. Who was Mehmet? She didn’t know any Mehmets that would be sending her romantic bouquets.

  Ayshen called the boy to her desk at the front of the class. The boy came running.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said eager to please his teacher.

  “Who is Mehmet?”

  “He is the gentleman who was asking us questions about you yesterday.”

  “What? Honey, what are you talking about?”

  “When we went to see the trains yesterday, a gentleman asked me who you were. He wanted to know all about you.”

  “And you told him?”

  “Yes, of course,” the boy said. Then he was crestfallen. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Ayshen pulled herself together. “Oh no, don’t worry about it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am positive. You can go back to your desk now.”

  When Ayshen arrived home that afternoon, her mother was waiting for her at the door. Another bouquet had arrived at the house.

  It was already in a vase displaced on the table in the anteroom – for all to see who walked into the household.

  “Flowers came for you,” her mother announced. Her eyes sparkled with her excitement.

  Ayshen just looked at her mother.

  “Aren’t you going to open the card?”

  Ayshen retrieved the envelope addressed to Miss Ayshen in the same handwriting that was on the one at school.

  This one