More Lipstick Chronicles

by Emily Carmichael

  “Offended? Me?”

  “I’m very glad you’re here. I look forward to discussing some of your needs this afternoon.”

  Some of her needs she’d damned well better keep to herself, Dana warned herself. Lusting after the teacher was probably grounds for expulsion.

  “Come on, Dana.” Tamara touched her arm, breaking her thrall. She had been staring wordlessly at Kieran with her mouth agape. “The coffee shop has great mushroom and avocado sandwiches. Grown right here in the gardens.”

  “The goat’s milk cheese is very good also,” Kieran said with a grin.

  He was laughing at her, Dana knew. But somehow it didn’t matter. Lunch didn’t sound nearly as tasty as simply staying to bask in Kieran’s smile. And if Tamara hadn’t pulled her out of the room, she might have been foolish enough to try to do just that.

  Dana left Tamara enjoying lunch in the coffee shop and chatting with fellow students. She had eaten her sandwich fast, scarcely noticing how it tasted. Everything offered was health food, so how good could it have tasted? Dana’s greatest hunger at that moment was to resume connection to the real world.

  Alix answered the phone on the second ring.

  “Good!” Dana said. “You’re home.”

  “I was about to meet Marc.”

  “Marc can wait,” Dana declared with a pang of envy for her friend’s suddenly successful love life. Lately all the Allheart women had been scoring romantic home runs—Elyssa with Joe Monteigne, Carole Titus with the country’s youngest new senator, Alix with her Marc. Even young Robyn had her on-again, off-again with heartthrob Steve. Was Dana the only one whose love life was a minefield? “Alix!” Her voice cut through the phone lines with a definite edge. “Do you know what you’ve gotten me into?”

  “Something good, I hope.”

  “Alix! This is a frigging cult! They have organic gardens and goats!”

  “Goats?”

  “Goats!”

  “I don’t think having goats makes them a cult, Dana.”

  “How about pigs, chickens, bunnies, turkeys, geese and so-called committed students that live in communal housing and sit around listening for the universe to say something to them personally?”

  “Well . . . what about Kieran?”

  “Kieran.” Dana huffed indignantly. “Kieran is . . .” A hunk. A hunk with a smile that could have her wizened maiden aunt climbing out of her drawers. “. . . is a sideshow.” Star material. “Oh, he’s dynamic. I’ll give him that. He even sucked me into his speech this morning. Everyone in the room was practically throwing flowers at him.” Or bras and panties. Except that most of the women there weren’t wearing bras. “He could talk a cat into kissing a dog, I swear. The man is dangerous.”

  “Sounds interesting. Is he . . . good looking?”

  Dana heard something in her tone. She held the phone handset away from her ear and narrowed her eyes at it as if Alix could see. She put it back to her ear without losing her suspicious frown. “You knew, you little—”

  “Mind your temper, honey. You’re supposed to be there to chill out, remember.”

  “You guys thought I was going to get the hots for this guy and suddenly mellow out to become Miss Congeniality.”

  “That good, is he?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “Just from his picture on the website.”

  “If you were here, you treacherous bitch, you’d be melted into a hot, steaming puddle of lust.”

  “Mmmmm. I should have kept him for myself. See, I’ve done you a favor.”

  “Alix, in my current mood, I don’t need to have my hormones doing jumping jacks while I try to calm the rest of me down.”

  “Don’t fight it, girl. Mother Nature always wins.”

  “I don’t need a man! I especially don’t need to be lusting after this man. He’s a nut. A twenty-first-century hippie. Today he tells us to listen to the universe. Listen to our inner selves. Tomorrow he’ll probably say we shouldn’t shave our armpits, use deodorant or eat meat.”

  Alix laughed. “No way anyone could get me to have hairy armpits. Listen, sweetie. You just relax. Enjoy looking at the guy. Listen to what he has to say. Take the part you can use and throw out the rest. No one expects you to come back to Washington a hairy vegetarian.”

  “Alix! Don’t hang up.”

  “Gotta go now. Take care of yourself. Enjoy.”

  A gentle click broke Dana’s connection to civilization and the sane world. She was catapulted back to the Gardens of Oak Creek. Organic food, goats, meditation and a man called Kieran. Never-neverland.

  Dana escaped the room before Tamara returned to start gushing once again about “the Master.” This time, Dana was in no mood to be tolerant. On her way down the hall she passed her elderly classmate talking with two male students—one middle aged, one still looking for his first shave. They discussed the merits of yoga versus the benefits of Tai Chi as methods to ease stress. In the lobby Jerund and another student engaged in a lively debate over the difference between reincarnation and repersonalization. Dana felt rather like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. She found refuge in a nook of the garden. A shaded bench sat beside a man-made brooklet where ornamental fish swam among lush water plants. An evergreen vine climbed the tree trunks, the legs of the bench, the wooden handrails of the little bridge that crossed the water, and peeking through the vines here and there, marigolds and wild roses added a touch of color. Dana was amazed that such things could grow here even in December.

  A city girl, born and bred, Dana felt more comfortable with concrete than such luxurious growth, but at the least the bench offered privacy from the fruitcakes that seemed to inhabit every corner. The schedule at the registration desk had her listed for a three P.M. meeting with the Great One himself, and she wasn’t about to spend the next two hours debating philosophy with her roommate.

  So she sat. The bench was comfy. The plants and trees, she reluctantly admitted, lent the little nook an air of soothing quietude. The brooklet rippled happily. No traffic sounds. No horns blaring, tires squealing, sirens wailing. No television, radio, or Muzak. No voices in conversation or bosses wanting clever, creative one- and two-liners from a writer who was just about clevered-out. Here in the garden was blessed silence, broken musically by occasional birdsong and the laughter of water.

  Dana closed her eyes, deciding that it wouldn’t kill her to try a little of that inward thinking that Kieran talked about. She was quiet. She was alone. And she did have stuff to ponder. Family. Work. The whole parade of men that had come briefly into her life and hastily departed, either because she had found fault with them or they had found fault with her. The very annoying knot that so often tied her tongue when she had to communicate with her mouth rather than with her fingers flying on a keyboard.

  Was the answer to all her problems somewhere inside her, as Kieran seemed to think? Find her center, he had said. Listen to the earth breathe. Tune in to the universe.

  The only thing she saw at her center right then was Kieran. He was smiling that gentle, mysterious smile that made her heart somersault. His eyes drew her in, dark pools that made her feel warm and safe. She could almost see the black waves of his hair move in the breeze. The nostrils of that classic nose flared suddenly. The gentle smile turned bold, teeth flashing in a brash, challenging grin.

  Dana’s eyes flew open. What was the man doing to her? Was he going to be waiting for her every time she closed her eyes and relaxed?

  She tried again, closed her eyes, soaked up the peace of her surroundings—the gentle sound of the brook, the whisper of breeze through the trees, the call of a bird in the distance. She was not going to see him there inside her mind, Dana vowed. He had no right to be there. He was not a part of her world. A New Age swami with long hair and sandals was not a candidate for man of her dreams, and he would not get in the way of her concentration on serious stuff like life, family, work, love, sex—oops! Sex? There he was again, smiling that smile, inviting her close
r with those deep, dark eyes.

  Dana muttered a soft curse. This silly stuff was harder than it looked, especially when your teacher was a world-class distraction. She looked at her watch, noting that she was only five minutes away from her appointed time with the master. Time had passed much faster than it had seemed. A whole hour one-on-one with Kieran—this was going to be interesting. Interesting and a little bit scary.

  She made her way down the path to the bank of Oak Creek, where on a flat rock shelf that jutted over the water, denizens of The Gardens had built a medicine wheel. It wasn’t very impressive, really, just a circle of water-worn stones set in a big circle. Four spokes of similar stones indicated the cardinal points of the compass.

  Kieran sat cross-legged not far from the circle. He looked utterly relaxed as he gazed at the lively waters of Oak Creek. A drifting piece of wood bobbed along the ripples, and all the man’s attention seemed centered on it. Dana saw nothing special there. The wood got tossed about, swept against rocks, pulled under by the current, then shooting upward again, until it finally found refuge in a quiet pool close to the shore. Kieran seemed so focused on the little scene that Dana hesitated to interrupt. In fact, she was about to use his preoccupation as an excuse to slip away when he demonstrated that he was very aware of her presence.

  “Dana Boyle.” His deep voice, though quiet, was more effective than Surround Sound. “Welcome, Dana.”

  “Uh . . . hi.” Dana Boyle, Queen of Words, tongue-tied once again.

  Still looking at the piece of wood, he asked, “What do you think of Sedona?”

  “Very pretty.” Right. That’s going on a greeting card. Not!

  “Is that all?”

  “Well . . .”

  “Many people who come here think that Sedona is special, that it holds something significant for them.”

  “Uh . . .”

  Finally he looked at her. The impact of his eyes was a fifty-megaton soul-shaker. If he could bottle his own personal magnetism and put it on the market, people would be clamoring for the stuff. Just like the snake-oil salesmen of old. “What does Sedona have for you, Dana?”

  The image that came instantly to mind was something she didn’t dare express. No doubt the swami of Sedona would take a dim view of lust in the Sedona dirt.

  “Why did you come here, Dana?”

  “Uh . . . I guess to get some of the stress out. Life has been . . . has been pretty hairy lately.”

  “Life always is. Sit down, please. No, not there. Over here, across from me.”

  Dana lowered herself gingerly to the bare, hard rock in the spot he indicated. They were so close that their knees nearly touched. “Couldn’t spring for a bench or two, huh?”

  He smiled only slightly. “I find it’s easier to be in touch with oneself if one is close to the earth.”

  If the earth were just a little softer Dana might concede the point. But more than a moment this close to the earth was going to make her butt bones poke right through the seat of her jeans. And speaking of jeans, hers weren’t designed with sitting Indian-style in mind. They were cutting off all circulation to her legs.

  Kieran regarded her with amusement that he didn’t attempt to hide. “Dana, you must breathe while you meditate.”

  She gave him a weak smile, which won her a chuckle and a shake of his head.

  “It’s important to be comfortable during meditation, because discomfort is a distraction we don’t want. Right?”

  Fashion wasn’t made for comfort, but men never understood that.

  “Here. This will help.” Before Dana realized what he was doing, Kieran reached over and deftly flipped open the waist fastening of her jeans.

  “Oh my!” She took a deep breath, relieved as she was embarrassed.

  “Better?”

  Dana regarded him suspiciously, but both his tone and expression were totally innocent.

  “Loose clothing is best,” he advised. “Now, straighten your back and breathe.” He shook his head at her attempt. “Breathe into your stomach. Deep, deep. Now hold it—one, two, three, four—and slowly release, all the way from your toes.” He laughed. “Dana, Dana, you put so much effort into it. Relax.”

  Gracefully, effortlessly Kieran unfolded himself and moved to kneel behind her.

  “Close your eyes. Relax.”

  Dana felt his big hands on her, one at the small of her back, the other just below her diaphragm. A shiver of delicious pleasure traveled through her body, and it had nothing to do with meditation.

  “Now breathe. Deeply. In. Hold. Hold. Hold. Hold it down in your belly. Now release. Slowly.” He pressed gently on her middle. His breath was a warm breeze threading through the back of her hair. No part of him touched her except those wonderful hands, but Dana could feel electricity arc between them, across the inches that separated her back from his chest.

  “Again, Dana. Breathe. Now concentrate on something wonderful.”

  No problem there.

  “Feel it flow through you, starting at your head” . . . where his words tickled the back of her neck . . . “and traveling through your chest, your thighs, your legs, and out your toes. Make the relaxation complete, and when it is, then you can begin to search inside yourself for the answers you need.”

  What Dana needed right then was quite basic and not very spiritual. And she didn’t think Kieran wanted to hear it.

  “That’s good. Very good.” His hands moved to her shoulders and kneaded gently. “Do you feel the inward flow of energy? That is the state you seek to achieve while you meditate. Block out the world, look inside. And to do it, you must be relaxed, comfortable, at peace. Now, come back to the world, Dana, and we will talk about you. Hm?”

  Dana didn’t think she wanted to talk, but somehow she found herself talking. They walked in the gardens, where neatly tilled rows of fertile soil patiently awaited the coming of spring. For a change the words flowed from Dana’s mouth. Usually words flowed only at her computer keyboard, and those words were impersonal drivel meant for people she didn’t know. Always the words from her heart had been bottled up, but it seemed Kieran had popped the cork on the bottle.

  She told him about her temper, her depression, her downright bitchiness. She told him about being shanghaied to Arizona. She even told him things she’d never realized before. Loneliness. Isolation. The weeds of dissatisfaction that threatened to choke her creative abilities. All of it came out. Dana expected to be embarrassed once she was away from Kieran’s reassuring presence, but she wasn’t embarrassed there in the gardens, with Kieran’s gentle smile upholding her.

  “You have done the correct thing,” Kieran finally said to her. “And your friends have, too.” He chuckled softly. “Sometimes when we can’t see the right path, those who love us must nudge us in the way we should go.”

  A boot in the backside was more like what Dana had gotten.

  Their circle of the gardens led them back to the medicine wheel, which Kieran promised to explain another day. Kieran gently touched her cheek, and somehow his touching her seemed as natural as his smile. “Our time is over for now, Dana, but I want you to go somewhere peaceful and comfortable and think about all you’ve shared with me. You are a tumultuous spirit, my friend, but your potential shines like the sun on a summer day. You can learn to discipline your thoughts and emotions. Examine your spirit, and remind yourself to keep your focus on what is important in life. Tomorrow we will be together again.”

  Tomorrow we will be together again. The words seemed to echo in Dana’s mind.

  Dana left Kieran by the medicine wheel and walked up the garden path toward the hotel, dizzy with a world that seemed to have shifted its axis. Or was she the one who had changed? She was not the same person who had walked this same path earlier. The new Dana had a heart that felt light. She had lips that wanted to smile, and feet that longed to skip along like a child.

  Most of all, she wanted to get to her laptop computer and write—not reality cards. That was a product of her da
rk days. Today she burst with love songs, declarations of friendship, heartfelt sympathy, flirty come-ons, hearty congratulations and still more love songs—all the kinds of wonderful words that made Allheart.com the best there was.

  Dana Boyle was back, better than ever.

  Tomorrow we will be together again. Yes, indeed. Life was good.

  Chapter 3

  The next two days followed the same schedule as the first. All six students spent the morning as a group. Kieran tossed out subjects for their examination and comment, answered questions and provoked debates. And he kept referring back to the meditation techniques that would, he assured them, help them toward inner knowledge and pursuit of their own personal truth.

  Afternoons were reserved for private meditation and individual consultations with the Master. In her own mind, Dana stopped putting quotes around the honorific. Kieran was a master at what he did. Only a master could have calmed her restless spirit and started the healing process that lightened her step.

  Dana’s second consultation with Kieran was once again in the garden. He tailored the meeting places, he explained, to where each individual student felt most comfortable, and he believed she could open up best among the growing things of the earth.

  “That shouldn’t be,” Dana told him with a laugh. “I’m a city girl, born and bred. The land of concrete and smog is my native habitat.”

  “Perhaps in this life that is true.”

  “Oh, right!”

  He endured her skepticism with a good-natured grin, never trying to persuade her to his way of thinking and never scoffing at her traditionalist mind-set. But his eyes frequently twinkled as if he knew a great and wonderful secret that she would someday learn.

  While they dabbled their bare toes in the cool water of Oak Creek Kieran explained the symbolism of the medicine wheel and how Dana could relate it to the progression of her own life.

  “It all seems rather simplistic,” Dana complained to him as she looked at the primitive circle of stones. “East, west, north, south. East is the sunrise, beginning, the springtime planting. South is summer, growing and fulfillment. West is autumn harvesting, and north is the winter, when everything rests.”