More Lipstick Chronicles

by Emily Carmichael

  “I was trying to picture me milking a goat and finding inner peace.”

  A heavy masculine brow arched upward. “It might work. Maybe you should try it while you’re here.”

  She laughed again. “I’d better check in.”

  “I’ll take your luggage in.”

  “Thanks so much.” She handed him a generous tip. A lawyer who schlepped suitcases and cleaned goat pens needed it, Dana figured. “You’ve been really nice. I hope I see you around during the workshop.”

  “You will,” he assured her, the smile still alive.

  Chapter 2

  The reception area looked pretty much like a standard hotel. Though certainly not as upscale as the nicer hotels in the Washington area, it was pleasant enough. The clerk at the registration desk was a young man with close-cropped hair and a friendly face who introduced himself as Jerund. His welcome was as pleasant as the bellman’s, though not backed up by the stellar good looks and a smile that alternated between gently compelling and boldly brash.

  “The meeting rooms are in the south wing,” the clerk explained. “Through there is the pool, Jacuzzi and spa.”

  “Goodness!” Dana said with a smile. “The place comes equipped with everything, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes ma’am! The restaurant and coffee shop are in the north wing. And your room is down that hallway over there. Your roommate has already checked in.”

  “Roommate?” Dana’s brows shot upward.

  “Yes ma’am. The workshop Saver Plan provides for workshop tuition, breakfast in the coffee shop and double-occupancy rooms. That’s the plan you signed up for.”

  “I did, did I?”

  He looked puzzled by her tone, and Dana had to remind herself that the clerk had nothing to do with Alix reserving steerage-class accommodations. Reminding herself that she had come here to exorcise her crankiness, not exercise it, she forced herself to smile. “That’ll be fine. Absolutely lovely.”

  That bit of gushiness seemed to win him over. His smile once again radiated the light of inner peace, or whatever the denizens of this place were seeking. “Do you have luggage I can help you with?”

  “If you don’t mind. It’s piled over there. Your bellman brought it in for me.”

  “Bellman?” Jerund frowned. “Oh, you mean . . .” His eyes widened slightly and a grin spread across his face. “Yes, of course. Here’s your key. I’ll be right behind you with your luggage.”

  As Dana walked down the hall, she heard the clerk laugh out loud. That funny, was she?

  In consideration of her unwanted roommate, Dana knocked on the door before swiping the key card through the reader.

  “Enter,” came a quiet reply.

  “Hi,” Dana said as she opened the door. “I’m your roommate, Dana Boyle.” And I’ve been committed here for terminal bitchiness, she added silently. So watch out.

  A somewhat pudgy middle-aged lady unfolded herself from an improbable cross-legged position on one of the queen-size beds and gave Dana a bright smile. “I’m Tamara.” She pronounced the name Tamara. “Just getting a jump start on getting my head together.”

  “It looks pretty together to me.”

  Tamara chuckled politely. “I have a long way to go. This is my second workshop with Kieran. You?”

  “First.”

  The woman drew in a delighted breath. “What a wonderful experience you have in store. Kieran is just the deepest, wisest, most enlightened teacher I’ve ever had. And I’ve tried others. It’s so important in this day and age to find a spiritual center, don’t you agree? Everything else in life becomes so trivial when you come face to face with the truth of how little we know about ourselves and our place in the universe.”

  “Uh . . .”

  “I’m thinking about joining the school here full time,” she continued happily. “I believe intense study is what I’m called to do. But I wanted to attend one more workshop, just to be sure of my commitment. Kieran is such a wonderful guide to my inner self.” Her eyes glowed, her lips were moist, her nostrils flared with pleasure.

  Dana wondered just how this Kieran fellow went about probing this woman’s “inner self,” and if she should call the department of public morals.

  Then, an almost childlike smile lit up Tamara’s face. “But you’ll see for yourself. Those who seek after truth always are led to the right path. It’s just that sometimes the journey is long and there are detours along the way.”

  “Well, right now, I think I’m going to take a detour to the restaurant,” Dana said. “Care to join me?”

  “Oh no! I need lots more quiet time before I’m ready to face the workshop tomorrow. Those who are prepared are those who best learn the secrets of the universe!”

  Dana tried not to let relief show in her expression. Tossing her denim jacket onto the empty bed, she smiled to herself. The universe would never catch her doing homework before she’d even been to class.

  The next morning came too early, as mornings were apt to do lately. There had been a time not too long ago when Dana had regularly awakened before her alarm jerked her from sleep, when she had faced each new day as a challenge, looked forward to work and the give-and-take between the staffers at Allheart, and slept soundly each night knowing her life was on the right track. Not lately, though. Lately she’d dragged herself from bed each morning after a night of uneasy, on-and-off sleep.

  Her first morning at the Gardens of Oak Creek was no different. Though her roommate bounded from her bed with a smile on her face and threw open the drapes with an ecstatic sigh, Dana regarded the bedside clock with a groan and dove more deeply beneath her covers.

  “What a sunrise!” Tamara declared. “What a beautiful new day. The universe is good!”

  “If the universe were truly good it would let me go back to sleep,” Dana grumbled, hoping to discourage further warblings of joy.

  “Come, Dana! You must see the sunrise. This is the first day of the rest of your life!”

  Even greeting card copy didn’t get that schmaltzy. Not at Allheart, at least.

  “Come! Come! Enjoy the morning. Besides, Kieran frowns upon tardiness, and class begins in an hour.”

  Kieran could go jump off a cliff, Dana growled to herself. Actually, that was the polite version of what she was thinking.

  The sunrise was spectacular, Dana discovered when she managed to drag herself from bed ten minutes later. High, wispy clouds streaked the sky with feathery fire, and the ruddy light of morning turned the cliffs surrounding the valley a deep, glowing crimson. Such a spectacular show from Mother Nature made it difficult for even Dana to keep the proper edge on her grumpy mood.

  She scarcely had time to finish her morning routine of hair and makeup before Tamara announced that it was time to leave for class. Tamara had brought her a bowl of fruit and a cup of herbal tea from the coffee shop, then had patiently watched her roll hot curlers into her just-past-shoulder-length red hair and apply the Bare Essentials daily regimen of makeup designed to beautify her with a completely “natural” look. She agonized over the choice of wearing her sleek Calvin Klein pants and matching jacket or simply clean jeans and the cotton flannel shirt her mother had given her last Christmas. She’d never worn it, for obvious reasons. Flannel just wasn’t her style. The fact that she’d even packed it said much about her state of mind.

  “Casual,” Tamara suggested, obviously fidgeting to leave but too polite to leave the workshop freshman on her own the first day of class. Dressed in a peasant skirt, sweatshirt and clogs, the lady practiced what she preached. Her beauty routine had included running a brush through short salt-and-pepper hair wet from the shower and treating her complexion to a dose of hand lotion.

  But she was good-hearted, Dana reflected. Maybe she should put more stock in good-hearted.

  “Ready!” she declared after tucking her shirttails into designer jeans and sucking her navel to her backbone so she could close the zipper. “I’m ready to be enlightened.”

  The meeting r
oom was like no classroom Dana had ever seen. The floor was cushy carpet. A big corner unit sofa, plush and comfortable, made an L along two cream-colored walls. Cushions of various sizes and shapes were strewn about the floor. Students sat on the sofas or relaxed on a floor cushion as they chose. Some chatted. Others sat silent, eyes closed, probably focusing on that elusive inner self, Dana thought. The group was small—six counting Dana and Tamara. But it was surprisingly varied. Four women and two men. Young, middle-aged and old. One woman looked to be at least in her seventies.

  Dana chose a comfy-looking cushion and sat. Tamara settled in beside her. “Don’t be so tense,” her roommate advised. “Just wait. You’ll be glad you came.”

  “I’m not tense,” Dana lied. And I will not be glad I came, she thought. That would give her bullying friends at Allheart entirely too much satisfaction. Then the door opened and in walked the revered Mr. Enlightenment himself. He smiled expansively at the group, and Dana only just managed to stifle an audible gasp. Heat flooded her face and neck, and she tried to discreetly hide behind Tamara as the much-vaunted Kieran introduced himself. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair that made her hands itch to touch it and a killer smile that made her hot and cold at the same time. Her bellman wasn’t the bellman; he was the teacher, founder and guru of this place. Lame-brain Dana strikes again, Dana moaned to herself. Why oh why hadn’t she asked the guy’s name before making a fool of herself? Why hadn’t she just kept her smart-ass mouth shut? What a moron she was!

  Their esteemed teacher went slowly through the roster of his students, greeting each of them with a personal word of welcome.

  “Dana Boyle,” he said with a slow smile. His eyes left the roster and met hers. They glinted with mischief, with knowing what a smart-mouth, moronic jackass she was. Dana wanted the floor beneath her to open in a yawning cavern and swallow her whole. “From Washington, DC. You’ve come a long way, Dana.”

  And she wanted to go back, right now.

  “We’re very glad you came.”

  Dana clenched her jaw. Words failed her completely, refusing to form in her lame excuse for a brain. It wasn’t fair. Kieran was supposed to be a gray-bearded hermit type, an ancient wise man one would expect to find on top of some holy mountain spouting the mysteries of life and all that garbage. Gurus weren’t hunks. They didn’t have athlete’s bodies, drop-dead gorgeous eyes and killer smiles. They didn’t pose as bellmen or make jokes about goats. They most certainly didn’t make a woman’s blood rush through her veins in a steaming hot river and make her break a sweat just contemplating the sculpted curves of his mouth.

  Unfair, unfair, unfair!

  Kieran moved on in the list, but now and again his eyes strayed back to Dana, his mouth quirking into a little smile that Dana knew was a private “gotcha.” She wondered if she should just leave now or endure the next four days as punishment for being such an idiot.

  Tamara leaned toward her and whispered, “Isn’t he something?”

  Kieran was something indeed. Yes, he was. Dana hunkered down on her cushion and prepared to be mortified and miserable.

  The inevitable first order of the morning was introductions. Dana hated such public exposures, telling a group of strangers facts about herself that no one was interested in anyway. When her time came she was very brief, almost curt compared to the other students’ loquacious ramblings about background, aspirations, philosophies and personal lives.

  “Dana Boyle. Washington, DC. I’m a writer for an Internet greeting card company.” She started to sit down, but Kieran didn’t let her off the hook.

  “What are the most important things in your life, Dana?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Family? Husband? Children? Work?”

  “I have a mother, father and sister.” Upstart, gloating, engaged little sister. “They’re important.” They are, even though they’re genuine pains in the butt. “I have close friends at work.” Who shanghaied me into this workshop. But annoying as they are, they mean well. “They’re important.” She shrugged. “I like my work. I guess it’s important to me.”

  “What do you think is the most important thing in your life?”

  Getting out of this workshop and going home to my own familiar screwed-up life. “I don’t know.”

  Kieran smiled in a way that made Dana suspect he could read her mind. Later, when all the introductions were over, he latched onto her statement of philosophical ignorance to launch the morning’s harangue. At least Dana thought it was going to be a harangue. That was what these “teachers” did, wasn’t it? But what followed was more of a discussion than a pedantic lecture, and this teacher treated his students as if their contributions to the discussion were as valuable as his own. Dana started listening more to what he said and less to her own thought balloons of resentful cynicism.

  “Too many people don’t know what the most important thing is in their lives,” he told them. “The pace of modern life doesn’t give you time to find out. Out of every day, most of us could probably schedule about thirty hours, even though the day has only twenty-four, last time I checked.”

  The students nodded and smiled their agreement.

  “Your bosses want a big chunk of your time.”

  That’s for sure.

  “Your spouses, children, lovers and even your pets want a big chunk of your time.”

  Don’t forget parents. They can want your whole life to go according to their agenda.

  “Then there are chores, errands. Even relaxing the way society says you should relax—that can be work in itself. Club hopping. Dating. Softball leagues. Workouts at the gym to get that buff look that fashion says you must have in order to be a worthwhile human being.”

  Dana had to smile to herself. Kieran didn’t look like he missed many workouts, unless he was just naturally muscled like an Olympic gymnast.

  “We get too little time to sleep,” he went on. “Too little time to just crash in a chair and relax, without the TV blaring, the kids whining, the spouse bugging you about this or that. In short, we get too little time to think. Just think. Think about the universe and our place in it. Think about our own personal need to grow as a spiritual being. Think about what is really going on beneath all the bustle of the oh-so-busy, oh-so-important world.

  “Have you ever listened to the Earth breathing?”

  Dana wondered if she could use that line on a card.

  “Have you ever lay outside on a clear night to watch the stars?”

  His voice was spellbinding. It was impossible not to listen. Deep, melodic, it was friendly rather than intense, but even with the friendliness he conveyed a deep conviction. This is important, the voice said, not in words as much as in tone. This is what life is about. Listen. Learn. Believe.

  “Have you ever taken the time to look inside yourself and explore who you really are, what you want, what you need?”

  What Dana was beginning to want and need had nothing to do with philosophy. There was something devastatingly compelling about a man who crawled inside your head and demanded your attention, whether or not you wanted him there. And that something had nothing to do with the man’s physical attractions. Of course, the fact that Kieran was a hunk didn’t hurt matters any.

  Kieran went on to explain that the rapid, demanding pace of modern life robbed people of their ties with their inner selves and separated them from everything but a shallow, hurly-burly world. The result was stress that resulted in depression, violence, failed relationships, broken families and spiritual derelicts unable to find purpose in a universe rich with purpose.

  Dana found herself hanging on Kieran’s every word. His voice resonated inside her, in her very soul—though she hadn’t ever really considered whether she had a soul. It was a question she had never taken the time to contemplate. When he explained that the solution to society’s lack of spiritual depth was a return to meditation, she nodded and smiled along with the rest of the class, every bit as sucked in as any of them.
When he instructed them in the basics of meditation—solitude, inner silence, focus—she focused upon the mouth that spoke the words, the eyes that seemed so warm with compassion for the students’ needs, for her needs.

  When the morning session drew to an end, Dana was scarcely aware that three whole hours had passed. Even the rumbling of her empty stomach hadn’t distracted her.

  “Your first reading assignment is the first three chapters in the book you’ve been given.” Kieran held up a copy of the hardcover text, Finding Strength in Meditation. He grinned. “A shameless plug for my book, but of course, if I hadn’t thought that it was worthwhile, I wouldn’t have written the thing, would I have? Anyone who wants to buy a copy can talk to the clerk at the registration desk, but during the workshop, the books are provided.”

  Dana opened the copy she had picked up at the beginning of class. The last page was a photo of Kieran flashing that killer smile. She immediately decided she would buy a copy.

  “And as an exercise,” he concluded, “I want you all to try some meditation this afternoon. Try to find your center. Look inside yourself, not balking at what you see. Not stumbling on pride or self-doubt, but simply approaching yourself as a work of art, the artist being the Universe, or God, however you choose. Throughout the afternoon and evening, I will have the opportunity to talk personally with each of you in individual appointments. Times are posted outside the door, and there is also a schedule at the registration desk. Tomorrow morning, we will meet again as a group.”

  Dana sat still as the class began to leave. Her roommate seemed equally reluctant to move. Kieran smiled at them. “Tamara, it’s so good to see you again.”

  “You have no idea how good it is to be back, Master.”

  Dana was running the odd title of “Master” around her mind when Kieran turned the full impact of his attention on her.

  “Dana, I hope you weren’t offended by my not introducing myself when we first met. I didn’t intend it as a joke. But sometimes it’s easier to become acquainted with people without the baggage of being the teacher.”