John Edward - Final Beginnings

John Edward
with Natasha Stoynoff

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Published in 2010 by Sterling Publishing Co., Inc.
387 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016
2004 by John Edward and Natasha Stoynoff
First edition published in 2004 by Hay House/Princess Books
Distributed in Canada by Sterling Publishing
c/o Canadian Manda Group, 165 Dufferin Street
Toronto, Ontario, Canada M6K 3H6
Distributed in the United Kingdom by GMC Distribution Services
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Distributed in Australia by Capricorn Link (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
P.O. Box 704, Windsor, NSW 2756, Australia

Book design by Rachel Maloney

Manufactured in the United States of America
All rights reserved

Sterling ISBN 9781402775598

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My thanks to all who understand and
encouraged me on my journey.

In the not-so-distant future...

THEYRE CALLING IT THE CROWN OF GODla corona di Dio, Giovanni said, dipping his oar into the dark water and delicately launching the gondola into the Venetian night.

La corona di Dio. Why does everything sound so much more romantic in Italian? Katherine Haywood mused, studying the shimmering turquoise light reflecting across the harbor. She followed the gondoliers gaze upward to the dazzling display of the aurora borealis illuminating the night sky with a circle of green fire.

Who comes all the way to Italy to see the northern lights? she wondered.

She knew why shed comefor a desperately needed break, deliberately choosing a destination where she didnt speak the language, wouldnt be recognized, and where no one would stop her in the street asking her to connect them with a dead loved one.

As a psychic medium, easing peoples pain over the loss of someone theyd loved had been her work and her life for nearly two decades. But after thousands of readings, Katherine was feeling tired, empty.

She wondered if shed reached a point of spiritual burnout. No matter how hard she worked, no matter how much heart she put into it, it never seemed to be enough.

If I could bring everyones loved ones back from the dead so theyd be standing right in front of them, I would, Katherine thought. But Im just the messenger, not a miracle worker. And Im one exhausted messenger.

She listened to the soft waves of the lagoon lapping against the gondola, wishing the waters of the ancient city would wash her weariness away.

Katherine had never intended to be a famous psychic; shed just wanted to use her abilities to help people. But like it or not, the fame had come, and the endless demands on her time and talents had quickly followed.

She hoped that putting an ocean between herself and her home would allow her to escape for a while, to tune out the world around herand the world above. She needed to figure out how shed reached this point: on the verge of abandoning what she considered to be her lifes work, which shed always believed was her destiny.

They say these lights in the sky are being created by the biggest solar storm in nearly two hundred years, Giovanni said, sliding his oar against the water. He spoke flawless English, but with a robust Italian accent.

She looked at the man sternly. Shed paid him 300 for the gondola ridetwice the going rateon the condition that he didnt talk. Shed already read all about the unexpected space storm sweeping over the earths atmosphere during her transatlantic flight. She didnt need a newscast from a gondolier; she just wanted to slip through the fabled citys watery roadways in peace.

Some people are frightened by the sky. They say its the end of the world. But others say its a miracle, that the Blessed Mother is reaching out to

Excuse me, Giovanni...

Hey, pretty lady, call me Johnny.

Yes, all right... Johnny. Ive just arrived in Italy today after a very long flight. I dont mean to be rude, but I did pay for a silent tour. So please... I just want a little quiet time right now to take in the sights. Okay? Thanks for understanding.

Oh, sure, pretty lady. You dont want me to talk? I wont talk. I shut up like you ask.

In a flash, Katherine could see that the spirit world had no intention of letting her hide out. For a moment, the smiling gondolier wasnt wearing the traditional striped shirt and cap hed been in when she climbed into the boat. The vision lasted only a second, but it was crystal clear: The man was wearing a Boston Bruins hockey jersey.

Hed approached her earlier on the pier with a grandiose Ciao, bella donna. He assured her that he was a born-and-bred Venetian and would give the best water tour money could buy. But now she realized that his thick Italian accent and flirty-gondolier attitude were just typical tourist ploys.

She brushed the vision aside, hoping that her spirit guides werent preparing to bring through all of the gondoliers undoubtedly chatty relatives whod passed over to the Other Side.

They left the main lagoon, passing beneath a footbridge, and headed toward the heart of the old city.

Hundreds of years ago, my ancestors named this bridge the Bridge of Sighs, Giovanni explained, because condemned men sighed as they crossed it on their way to the prison tower. The word tower bounced off the tunnel walls and echoed in Katherines ears like a tolling bell.

Please, Giovanni... some quiet?

Oh, pretty lady, call me Johnny!

Yes... Johnny, now please... Katherine said more insistently, and if youre going to pretend to be a Venetian instead of a Bostonian, you could at least learn the local history. The bridge wasnt named by your ancestors, but by the English poet Lord Byron. And the condemned prisoners were led across the bridge to a dungeon, not a tower.

I didnt say tower... I said dungeon, Giovanni insisted, his Italian accent quickly dissolving. Ive given this tour a thousand times, and Ive never said tower. And how the heck did you know I was from Boston? Ive been doing this for ten years, and youre the first to ever guess.

I never guess.

I was sure he said tower, Katherine thought, as they glided silently though the ancient canals.

Katherine had hoped that this trip to Italy would recharge her emotional batteries, but already she was feeling worse than when shed boarded the plane in New York.

Im just jet-lagged. All I is need a good nights sleep, she decided, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

As they moved quietly across the water, the walls of the buildings lining the canal seemed to be closing in on her. She tried to focus on the glowing night sky above, but her vision began to blur. A jumble of disconnected images burst through her mind: a handsome, dark-haired gentleman hugging a smiling little girl; a tired young man injecting himself with a strange-looking needle; a picnic basket; and the smoking barrel of a gun. A moment later, the gondola had pulled into the wide passage of the Grand Canal, and the images vanished.

Katherine shivered.