Nettie's Tea House: A Tale of the Afterlife

by R D Petti

Overview

A quirky, modern-day fable, Nettie’s Tea House takes you on a fanciful journey of the afterlife and delivers a message of healing and hope.

After Gabriella Bunting sustains a fatal head injury in a car crash, she finds herself at Nettie’s Tea House, a halfway house for troubled souls who have left their physical bodies but are unable to fully transition due to unfinished business.

The Tea House proprietors are Agatha and Nettie Tulrose, sisters descended from a high fairy race of healing masters, whose staff administers award-winning healing teas and other treatments to help these souls transform their pain into peace and embrace their true potential.

From enchanted apple orchards to Zen gardens to magical reflection pools and a crew of small but powerful garden gnomes, the world of Nettie’s Tea House will forever be imprinted on your heart and soul.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781733169509
Publisher:	Luminosity Books
Publication date:	10/29/2019
Series:	Nettie's Tea House , #1
Edition description:	2nd ed.
Pages:	284
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.60(d)

About the Author

R.D. Petti is an award-winning finalist in the 2018 International Book Awards. A life-long student of consciousness and wisdom traditions, she offers her view of the afterlife in her quirky Nettie's Tea House visionary fantasy series. In the series, the best-selling author aims to raise awareness of higher states of consciousness, to support spiritual seekers in awakening to their truth, and to empower them to lead a fulfilling life. With an M.A. in Counseling Psychology, R.D. Petti is a practitioner of Reiki and a Deeksha blessing giver. A guardian and lover of the green world, she has an avid interest in herbal medicine and a passion for medicinal teas.

Read an Excerpt

Nettie's Tea House

A Tale of the Afterlife

---

By R.D. Petti

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2014 R.D. Petti
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-2310-1

---

CHAPTER 1

Tea House Reverie

Agatha let out a long sigh as she sank into her arbor office chair. The last of the Earth souls from the great tsunami in the East had been treated and were on their way. The coming moments would give her a needed respite. Earth souls had been exiting the planet in unparalleled numbers, but only a few new arrivals were expected at the tea house this moment.

She got up from her desk and looked out her treetop window, fixing her gaze on the summit in the western mountains. A shaft of golden-white light flashed and flooded her chambers as if in response. Her office chambers were fashioned among the boughs of a massive apple tree. Its roots below and branches above extended seemingly to infinity, and its colossal limbs burgeoned with bright, crimson apples and heady blossoms in unearthly hues of purple, pink, and white. Like the tree it was made of, her chambers were a sanctuary for every sort of winged and four-legged creature and creepy crawly of the astral mountain kingdom. It was teeming with the pulse of creation.

Agatha had sent telepathic word to Manolo, the tea house handyman, to meet with her. Since her sister Nettie had ascended to a higher dimension of consciousness, Agatha had relied on Manolo more and more to help her with the steady influx of Earth souls. Prior to joining the tea house staff, he had inspired souls in the higher dimensions to volunteer to incarnate to Earth as light workers so they could help at this critical juncture. The planet and human race hung in a delicate balance between further destruction and transformation into a new-world paradigm modeled on the Earth's ancient light principles.

More and more of these light workers were incarnating, and much to Agatha's delight, they were using various forms of astral travel—vision journeys, out-of-body experiences, lucid dreams, and other means of projecting consciousness—to visit the tea house while still in their physical bodies. While at the tea house, they acquired the tools to heal the planet and expand the consciousness of humanity. In fact, one of them was due to arrive at the tea house any moment, but not by astral projection or even in keeping with her natural time to exit the planet. This light worker had rather lost her way. Agatha smiled, knowing that the tea house would afford her the opportunity to experience the right thing at the right time. This was what the humans called synchronicity.

* * *

"It's snowing. That's all I need right now," Gabriella groaned as the flecks of snow dotted her windshield. She had hoped to be out of the mountains before the storm hit, but she had lost a lot of time getting back to the main road after taking a wrong turn. Not quite twilight, the sky was darkened with swollen, gray clouds.

"What was I thinking, taking this shortcut through the mountains?" she berated herself, for she had known when she set out that a major snowstorm was looming.

She had been looking forward to attending this weekend retreat for some time now. Advertised as a journey of self-discovery, the conference promised all the big names on the health and well-being circuit. Gabriella attended these events with religious zeal, clinging to the hope that they would provide the magical cure for her problems. She had already given up on the conventional means of treatment—psychotherapy and medication. Knowing her fear of public speaking, her last therapist had insisted that Gabriella attend group therapy. The mere thought of it made her feel anxious, while these conference presenters had all the answers; at least, that's what their many books had proclaimed.

The snow was getting heavier. Clumps of flakes landed on her windshield and accumulated on the sides as the wipers attempted in vain to push the snow away. The gray of the day gave way to black night. Her car radio had issued several severe-weather warnings, advising motorists to get off the roads in the area. All Gabriella could see was a vague outline of the road with a sea of white specks furiously swirling about her. The road was slick, and Gabriella knew that navigating the hairpin turns would be treacherous. She had to stop, but where? There was not a soul in sight. No houses, no side roads to turn onto to wait out the storm—there was just one winding curve after another, all the way up the mountain.

Her heart began to palpitate. In her haste to leave her apartment, she had forgotten her homeopathic anti-anxiety remedy. She took a deep breath and tried a new calming technique she had learned, envisioning herself at her destination, safe and warm and enjoying a nice cup of tea. As she drove around one of the curves, the car fishtailed and skidded toward an embankment. She turned into the slide and got the car back on the road. Her heart beat even faster. So much for creative visualization.

At the next curve, the car skidded again, and then spun off the road and raced down the mountain slope. "Someone help me, please!" she pleaded, but heard nothing except the screeching of the tires as her car crashed through tree branches and forest undergrowth then careened wildly down its runaway mountainside path. Gabriella felt a searing pain as her head hit the steering wheel; then the world faded away into inky blackness.

She regained consciousness gradually, as if she were reentering the world. Slowly, she tested her limbs, feeling a bit lightheaded, almost as if she were floating. She also realized, to her amazement, that she felt uncharacteristically calm and, despite the severe blow to her head, in no pain at all.

She saw a light in the distance. Headlights appeared far up on the road ahead. They were coming toward her. Snowflakes flickered in their beams like fireflies. The snow had muffled all sound of the vehicle. The shape of a pickup truck emerged; its blinding light pierced through the white of the storm. It stopped alongside her car. The driver rolled down his window and smiled at Gabriella.

A golden light emanating from the cab of the truck glistened in the snow around her. No words were uttered, but Gabriella knew without question that he was there to help her and that she would be safe in the warmth of the bright light.

She opened her own window to speak to him, and while no words came from her mouth, she communicated with ease that she had been in an accident and was grateful for his help. She gained instant knowledge that he was taking her to a place up the road where she would spend the night. She climbed into the cab of the truck without hesitation, thanking him in her heart for his kindness. He reached over to help her in. The gentle touch of his hand soothed her to the core.

I'm Manolo.

Pleased to meet you. I'm Gabriella.

The lingering tension from the snowy drive disappeared with his touch, leaving her completely at ease. In the dim light, she could just make out Manolo's profile, but she knew she was safe and in the company of an old friend.

With the hands of a master, Manolo turned the truck around on the narrow road and headed back up the mountain. The touch of his nimble fingers on the steering wheel was so light it was as if his fingers were floating above it, guiding the wheel from on high.

Manolo said nothing, but his placid demeanor pervaded the cab with a stillness as profound as the snowy silence outside. The windshield wipers moved in rhythm, back and forth. The toasty warmth of the heater made Gabriella feel dreamy. Her heavy eyelids wanted to close in serene slumber, but she resisted the urge. She glanced over at Manolo, wondering where he was from.

I'm the handyman at the lodge where we're going.

Gabriella was not aware of a lodge in the area but was too relaxed to fret about it. As they approached the mountaintop, the snow tapered off to a few light flakes before stopping altogether. They pulled off the road into a parking lot cleared of snow.

Manolo collected her bag and helped Gabriella out of the truck, then motioned toward a stone stairway that led up the side of the mountain. As they climbed the steps, an unimposing house nestled in the mountains above them came into view. It jutted out from the highest peak of the mountain range, appearing as part of the mountain itself. Built out of quartz crystal and granite, it had two, small-framed windows on either side of a thick oak door. A sign above the door read: Nettie's Tea House.

Manolo opened the door and ushered Gabriella into the foyer. Like its façade, the interior of the tea house was made from the stones of the mountain. Specks of quartz and granite flickered across the walls and ceiling like stars in the night sky. Rough-hewn oak beams separated the house into rooms filled with small tables and overstuffed cushioned chairs. Crystal bowls singing in the background filled the house with otherworldly peace.

Taking long, quiet strides, Manolo led Gabriella into one of the rooms. In the starry light of the tea house, Gabriella was able to get a closer look at him. He was a tall, brown-skinned man, dressed in a plain, thick flannel shirt and corduroy pants. His face was tender, almost childlike, with round high cheekbones, and his long, dark hair was run through with bright saffron highlights. It was pulled away from his face, with the thick, wavy locks tied atop his head and again at the nape of his neck. His youthful appearance belied the aura of golden antiquity surrounding him. Gazing into his amber eyes, Gabriella felt the depth of his wisdom, which graced his presence with profound calm.

The scarlet-orange flames dancing in the hearth beckoned Gabriella. She sat in a recliner by the fire, cozy and warm, soothed by the crackling flames and a sense of serenity she had never before experienced. She was about to ask Manolo a question when she realized he was no longer present.

A teapot and one cup sat on the table beside her chair. Though she possessed an arsenal of limiting beliefs about herself, when it came to tea, Gabriella took pride in being a connoisseur. She collected specialty teas from around the world, steeping and brewing them with passion and creating her own blends and infusions. She had teas to accompany meals, medicinal teas, holiday teas, floral teas, and spice teas. An occasion never passed without a suitable cup of tea.

She poured herself some of the steaming liquid, noting the sparkling gold color and tantalizing floral aroma. She breathed in the aroma, then lifted the cup to her lips. It swirled in her mouth, electrifying her taste buds. Never had she seen a tea with such brilliance of color or tasted such a soul-satisfying brew; however, she did recognize some of the ingredients. The familiar taste of chamomile was accented with flavors of orange blossoms and rosebuds popping in her mouth. Eucalyptus and a touch of ginger warmed her throat, and a peppery sensation lingered on her palate.

* * *

Gabriella placed the teacup back on the table and snuggled into the cozy chair, her eyelids growing heavy with sleep. Along the side of the room, she noticed a gathering of people at a long, wooden table, enjoying a meal in jolly camaraderie. Exchanging merry smiles, they clanked their tea mugs and laughed in a flickering fiery orange glow. Funny, I didn't see them when I walked in. With heartfelt affection they raised their mugs, inviting Gabriella to join them. Gabriella gazed on the fellowship with soulful longing. She so wished to be a part of them, never to feel alone again. They looked so happy. She wanted to be happy, too. But she did not join them, and the scene before her dissolved away as she fell into a deep slumber, like a babe in its mother's arms.

CHAPTER 2

A Breath of Fresh Air

Gabriella awoke to the sounds of birds singing. Their sweet melodies wafted through the open window on a warm breeze. She was lying in bed under a soft down comforter, her head sunken in oversized, fluffy pillows, utterly refreshed from a long, deep slumber. She looked around the room, not quite sure of where she was but certain she had seen it before. She had a vague recollection of the events of the previous night—the snowstorm, Manolo, the mesmerizing tea.

The room was bright with morning light and decorated in a motif of tiny rosebuds and leaves in brilliant shades of green and pink she had never seen before. Whatnots stuffed with bric-a-brac filled every corner of the room. An old-fashioned upright piano, cluttered with sheets of music, stood along the wall. A drawing room sofa with burgundy tufting, plump burgundy cushions, and gilded satinwood stood in the center surrounded by ornate, embroidered high-backed chairs. A table decorated with tiny rosettes and delicate foliate borders was in front of the sofa. The room had a cozy feel to it. Gabriella liked that.

The curtains fluttered in the breeze. The euphonic sounds of the birds filled the air. Gabriella got out of bed and went to the open window. A blue songbird alighted on the sill and chirruped in merriment. Wildflowers dotted the mountain hillside outside. Trees were in bloom. Gabriella took a deep breath of the fresh spring air. "Spring!" Gabriella exclaimed. "How could it be spring? How long have I been asleep?" The panic in her voice startled the little bird off its perch. Bewildered, Gabriella turned back to the room and noted that it had an odd familiarity to it, which only added to her consternation.

Her eyes fell on a tablet on the small nightstand beside the bed. It read: "Welcome to Nettie's Tea House." A white teapot dotted with tiny green leaves and damask rosebuds twirled in the center of the tablet's touchpad. Above it read: "Tap here for your welcome message." Gabriella tapped the teapot, smiling as steam came out of the spout and the teapot began to whistle. All of a sudden, a spectral shape emerged from the vapors and grew to full size before Gabriella's awestruck eyes. It was a portly woman, surrounded by a shimmering green glow.

"Hello, Gabriella Bunting," the woman said, smiling, and with each word, bursts of rose-colored light shot up through the green glow of her aura. "I'm Agatha Tulrose."

Agatha was short and as stout as the teapot itself. Her full, merry face was highlighted with a pale pink blush on her cheeks and smiling amethyst eyes. Her middle was round, giving her the appearance of an apple. She smelled of apple blossoms. She was dressed in a long, sage-green brocaded skirt; a crisp white long-sleeved blouse with puffy sleeves; and a white apron embroidered with magenta apple blossom buds. Her white hair was neatly tied in a bun, not a strand out of place. Gabriella liked her at once. She reminded Gabriella of one of the dolls she had played with as a child and still kept in the bedroom of an antique Victorian dollhouse her grandparents had given her. A bedroom, she came to the startling realization, that looked very much like the one she was standing in now.

"Welcome to Nettie's Tea House. You have had an arduous journey getting here, but now all you have to do is rest and recuperate. Our holistic tea infusions are satisfying and of omniversal acclaim. Our guests travel from the outermost reaches to enjoy our sumptuous brews and luxuriate in our spa and healing hot springs. While you are here, you are welcome to stroll through our gardens and orchards and take advantage of any service that speaks to your heart. To help orient you, we offer a tour of the tea house, spa, and grounds. But for now, relax and sample the bountiful assortment of teas we have available in the tea rooms."

With that, the apparition dissolved into a wispy green mist lingering in the room.

"Wait!" Gabriella cried, reaching out her hand, trying to grab hold of the dissipating specter. She had so many questions to ask her: Where is this place? How long have I been here? How do I get home?!

She looked down and noticed she was wearing bedclothes. She saw her suitcase by the wardrobe. It was empty. She opened the doors of the wardrobe and saw a closet full of colorful, trendy clothes she had always admired on other women but did not have the confidence to wear. She always dressed in a conservative manner, to say the least, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Her clothes went as unnoticed as she did.

Gabriella Bunting had not always been that way. As a child she was caring and outgoing, a natural leader, exuberant, and an eternal optimist. She grew up in a small, rural town with her parents, brother, and grandparents. Her days were happy and simple. Life was good to her. Gabriella loved to sing, so much so that her grandfather dubbed her his little songbird. "Little bird, sing me a song," he used to say to her. They made music together. He played the piano while Gabriella sang songs she had composed.

Everything changed when she became a teenager. Her older brother, ailing from an illness he had been afflicted with since an early age, passed away. The loss was devastating. Gabriella had an emptiness that no one and nothing could fill, and her parents were inconsolable. Sadness descended upon the family and took root, and they were never the same again. Unable to restore happiness to her parents, Gabriella felt inadequate. Her world, once so filled with joy, became small and dark. She sang no more.

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from Nettie's Tea House by R.D. Petti. Copyright © 2014 R.D. Petti. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---

Table of Contents

Contents

Prologue, 1,
1. Tea House Reverie, 4,
2. A Breath of Fresh Air, 10,
3. A Nice Cup of Tea, 16,
4. Queen in Repose, 22,
5. Flight of the Fledglings, 31,
6. Pool of Possibilities, 40,
7. The Order of Obsolete Programs, 47,
8. Angel Rock, 51,
9. The Cord of Attachment, 58,
10. Believe, 64,
11. Burning Masks, 70,
12. Inner Earth, 76,
13. Hearts in Bloom, 84,
14. A Shadow of Herself, 94,
15. Posey's Story, 103,
16. Stone Cold, 109,
17. At the Crossroads, 115,
18. The Silver Bough, 126,
19. The River of Time, 132,
20. Conquering Demons, 138,
21. Dreaming Into Being, 146,
22. Gabby Redux, 151,
Epilogue, 155,

Editorial Reviews

“Petti is a talented writer whose tale evoked, for me, the delights of other metaphorical tales by such writers as George MacDonald, Lewis Carroll and Tolkien. I truly hope Petti captures the audience she deserves. This is a rewarding tale, meant to be savored.”

– Judge, 23rd Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards

From the Publisher