“Class, please close your eyes. I want you to inhale fully, counting to five while you fill your lungs. At the top of the breath, hold it in, experiencing your lungs full of life-sustaining air. Then slowly let it out, counting down from five. When you get to one, allow every ounce of air to leave your lungs before you inhale another full breath, filling your lungs to capacity before you once again hold and release. I want you to do this until I say otherwise.”
I watch the class follow my instructions. It’s amazing how simple breathing, feeding your life source, can change the energy reacting on the outside of the body. After five full minutes of doing nothing but breathing, I flick on the stereo, preprogrammed to one of my favorite meditation and chanting songs.
“We’re going to listen to this song with a call and response chant. Listen to how it says Om Nama Shivaya. Break it down slowly. Let the ego go, and focus on your life force when you say the Om. Allow your voice to extend, rising and falling with the song.”
Ohhh…ohhh…ohhh…ohhhh.
Naaa…aaah…aaahh…maaaa.
Shiiii…vaaa…aaaah…yaaaaa.
“Over and over. Let your mind still. Breathe. Inhale long and slow. Taking in full breaths, exhaling full breaths. Chant. Let the singer’s words soak into your being, then respond in song.”
The entire class follows, and I’m filled with the beauty of each person’s ego being destroyed. The egos dissipate, and white, pure auras pop up all over the room.
Until I settle on Silas. The blackness is fading but not quickly enough for my liking. There’s a dirty gray overlay, which speaks of his skepticism, and it’s guarding his energy.
Not being able to help myself, I pad bare-footed over to where he’s resting. His beautiful eyes are closed, but his brow is still furrowed, showing his unrest and discomfort. Without thinking, I sit before him. His head twitches, probably sensing my energy, but he hasn’t opened his eyes. That’s a start. Means he trusts he’s safe.
He has his hands palms up on his knees. Knowing I shouldn’t, I lay both of my hands into his. Our hand chakras spin like a vortex of magnetic energy between us, sending sparks of recognition and delight through my arms. His eyes open in a flash, and he stares at me, not speaking. I close my eyes and settle in. Sometimes a person needs to be shown how to focus and chant so the mind can be free.
With my hands in his, our energy intermingling, dancing around us, I start to chant along with the song. Letting my voice rise and fall along with the singers. By the third time, he’s following along. Silas has a lovely voice: rich, low in timbre, and devastating on my senses.
I should unlace our fingers, allow him to continue alone, but the feeling of fluttering in my heart and the rightness in my soul is forcing my hands to hold on. Giving myself this one time, I fall into true meditation bliss, holding the hands of the man I want but can’t have.
My monkey mind stops thinking about the hurdles between us, the loss of what could have been, and the family unit we’ll never have. There’s nothing left, just simple, unending peacefulness. The plane of existence where worries disappear, love surrounds my being, and my soul is open and safe.
For a long time, I stay in this place, until a squeeze of my hands brings me back. I open my eyes to stare into the curious gaze of Silas McKnight.
“Your CD has ended,” he whispers.
Ended. There’s no music playing, which means forty-five minutes have gone by without me noticing.
Silas smiles, and it burns right through my body, settling like a lump alongside where his unborn child rests. I shake off the haze of contentment and stand up.
“Sorry about that, class. Looks like I went deep into my own meditation.” I glance around, and everyone I look at is full of smiles and positive colors pinging all over the place. From blue, green, purple, to white, the happy auras fill me with joy. I turn around to check out Silas. He’s back to a brilliant yellow aura, the same as when he arrived. Looks like the meditation finally worked, though I’d give anything to know what harshness he brought in with him today. There’s definitely something he’s holding close to the chest, which needs to come out or it’s going to continue to plague him. Though I’m not sure why I care so much.
The man has a family. You were a fling. A one-night stand.
Of course, nothing changes the fact that I’m carrying his baby.
Silas and Atlas walk up as the rest of the class starts to leave.
“Great class as usual, Dara.” Atlas pulls me in for a hug.
I inhale his musk and spice scent with a hint of baby powder. I chuckle into his neck and squeeze him tight, loving that I can smell his daughter on him. Means he’s been holding his girl. The way I hear it from Mila, however, he never lets her go when he’s home. The baby girl has her daddy wrapped around her pudgy finger, which is exactly how it should be.
“Thank you, Atlas. How’re the girls?”
“Aria is perfect. And Mila…perfect for me.”
I grin widely. “Yes, she is. You’re the only man who could ever tame a fireball like her.”
“Tame?” He tips his head back and laughs, hard. “Damn, girl, that’s funny.” He chortles a few more times before Silas pulls up behind him and taps his arm. “You remember meeting my boss and friend, Silas, a few weeks ago, right?”
I bite into my bottom lip and nod, not wanting to give too much away. I guess Mr. McKnight isn’t a kiss-and-tell kind of guy. Good to know.
“Hello, Dara. I didn’t know you were the teacher for this class,” he offers rather shyly. The exact opposite of how he reacted the night we hooked up.
I tip my head. “Well, how was it when you opened your eyes?” I purse my lips, trying to make him remember the last time he opened his eyes after seeing me. I wasn’t there. Because he’s a cheating dirt bag, regardless of how innocent he seems right now.
He opens his mouth, swallows, and then rubs at his bottom lip with his thumb. God, that’s sexy.
“Lonely,” he mutters.
Atlas frowns. “Dude, she was asking how you liked the class, not your personal relationship status.”
Wait, what? Atlas doesn’t know?
I widen my gaze, cross my arms, and cock a hip. Now Silas McKnight is not only a cheating dirt bag, he’s a lying, cheating, dirt bag.
“Oh, better than I expected.”
I huff. “Glad you could make it.” I refrain from suggesting he come again. That’s the last thing I need. Seeing him for the first time in three weeks is already a punch to the gut, reminding me of the place on my body I’ve already lost to this man.
My Apple watch goes off on my wrist. “Shoot. I gotta get. It was nice seeing you again, Silas.” Not. I want to gag but hold off. I’ve got to go. “Atlas, say hi to the girls for me. I’ll call Mila for some chick time in the future.”
I grab my bag and toss it onto my shoulder.
“She’d love that. I’ll tell her.” Atlas nods before going back over to his stuff.
Just as I think I’ve made my escape and I’m home free, long, mocha-colored fingers wrap around my bicep. “Dara, where are you going? We need to talk.” He lowers his voice. “You just left. Without a word.”
“Figured that was probably a good idea, since your wife could have come home at any minute,” I fire back just as fast.
“What?” he gasps.
I shake off his hold and keep moving down the hall. He follows me at a short clip. “Dara, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
Sick laugher leaves my mouth. “What? Was she on vacation? Girls’ night out? Visiting a friend?” I continue hurling options his way before I stop, my flip-flops making a rubbery squeak against the wooden floor. Turning around, I walk right up into his chest until my breasts touch his wall of muscle and he can feel my breath fan his face. “I’m not stupid. I saw the pictures all over your house,” I rumble through my irritation.
“Dara…” He runs a hand over his almost-bald head. I can practically hear the abrasions of each coarse hair p
rickling against his palm. I want so badly to wrap my hands around it like I did before, let it tickle my fingers as I kiss him.
With a mighty finger, I point at his chest. “We had a great night. Best I ever had. Ever. And that’s saying something. You definitely know what to do with a woman’s body.”
“Thank you…but let me explain—”
I cut him off. “No, no, no. I’ve got one word for you. One thing you cannot deny. Something you did not think to bring up when you were balls-deep inside a woman who was—”
I jab my finger into his chest.
“Not.”
Another jab.
“Your.”
This time a flat hand against his chest, forcing him to back up a step.
“Wife.”
“What?” He growls. “Tell me this magical word that changes everything we had, everything we shared. You’ve got it all figured out. At least you think you do. Enlighten me.” His pale eyes have turned a mossy, murky green, and his aura has morphed from a startling yellow to a fiery red. He’s pissed, and the energy surrounding him is flaring hot.
I glare at him, take a step closer, and get up in his face.
“Nursery,” I practically spit.
He gasps, clutching at his heart as he backs up and shakes his head repeatedly.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I spin on my foot and dash down the hall and through the doors, turning sharply to my left where I can already smell the scent of home surrounding me.
I open the door to the bakery and look for the one thing that will make this all better.
She enters from the back of the bakery, her round body, giant smile, and perfectly rosy cheeks a beacon to my battered heart.
Her eyes lock on mine, and she frowns. As I approach, her arms open wide. Everything I am and could ever be sits within the hopes and dreams of this woman.
I choke out the most blessed of titles. “Mama.”
“My baby!” She wraps her arms around me as my tears fall onto her large bosom. “What is wrong with my dear child?”
I shake my head and hold her tight, clinging to the one person who can make everything better. She did when I was eight, and I know she can now, even though I’m twenty-five.
My mother puts the lockdown on me, shrouding me in the safety of her love. She doesn’t care about any onlookers or patrons who may be seeing this sudden display between mother and daughter. She’s only worried about me. My health. My happiness. Because she’s my mother. Everything I could ever wish to be for my own child.
“Okay, baby, you’re going to come with me.”
I nod, tears running down my cheeks as she holds me close, never letting me get too far away from the safety and sanctity of her love. We make our way up the back stairs to my apartment. My parents gave me the apartment when I turned twenty and had made no plans to go to college. Sure, I’d gotten straight As in school, tried my best, but I didn’t want a fancy education. I wanted to be a baker. Work behind the counter like my mother and father have.
This bakery is one of ten in the state of California. The flagship store, the beginning of it all, and I want to work in this store until the day I die. Raise my family with a man who comes home from work and eats the special treats I bring home for him every night.
My mother brings me straight through to my fluffy, purple couch. She sits me there and tuts. “I’m going to make some tea.”
“Decaf,” I say automatically.
“Okay, baby. Mama’s going to make some tea, and then you’re going to tell me what has put sadness in those eyes. You may be able to read auras, but I know when my daughter is hurting. And you are hurting. Me and you are going to get to the bottom of this, you hear?”
“Yes, Mama.” I snuggle into the side of the couch and sigh, chilled to the bone.
My mother futzes around in my kitchen, making tea from a kettle, not the microwave, because that’s sacrilege to her. Tea is freshly made from a hot kettle or not at all. Something about the impurities from the microwave. Mom has always been a purist.
While I wait, my thoughts start to wander back to what occurred moments ago in the hallway with Silas. He genuinely seemed like he wanted to explain something about his family. Maybe I should have let him speak. What if he’s divorced, and I assumed incorrectly he was a cheating dirt bag?
No, then the pictures of a happy couple wouldn’t have still been up all over the house. Plus, wouldn’t he have denied it instantly?
Then again, he was surprised at what I said. Why, though?
Ugh. I’m so stupid. I should have let him explain.
So he could lie to me some more? No way.
I kick off the blanket and sit back up, placing my hands in my hair and my elbows on my knees. An unsettled sensation slithers up my spine as I rock back and forth.
My mother comes back into the room, her round belly and large bosom leading the charge. She has her special apron on that says Best Mama in the World and has sunflowers embroidered all over it. Dad helped me make it when I was ten years old. She’s worn it in the bakery every day for fifteen years. God, I love her.
“I love you so much, Mama.”
“Child…” She taps my knee. “No need to spout things I already know. Get to what the problem is. I don’t like seeing my beautiful girl with sad eyes.”
I lick my lips and think about my options. Tell her. Don’t tell her. Then again, I’ve never kept anything from her since the day she brought me home seventeen years ago. Besides, if I lie, she’ll know. Even fibs don’t work on Vanessa Jackson.
“What if what I have to tell you will make you think poorly of me?” I mutter, miserable but needing to get this out.
Her hand clasps mine, and she brings it up to her heart. “Child, since the day you were eight years old and I looked into your eyes, I knew two things. One, you were going to be my daughter. Two, I’d love you until the day I took my last breath and even beyond.”
Chills ripple across my body and more tears fall. “Mama…” I choke out.
She pulls me into her arms and cradles me. “Baby, you’re scaring me. Now tell me what’s the matter before I have a heart attack.”
I sniffle and cry for a long time, waiting for the sobbing to stop. She pets my hair and hums me through the worst of it. Eventually, I’m able to suck in a few breaths.
“That’s it, child. Breathe with me. It’s all going to be okay. Whatever it is, me and your dad are going to be here for you. Always, baby. You never have to be afraid when you have us.”
Pushing back far enough so I can consider the face that has only ever brought me joy and happiness, I offer up my greatest secret.
“Mama, I’m pregnant.”
Her eyes widen, and she comes forward and lays her lips to my forehead. “Oh my, Lord in Heaven.” She kisses me over and over. “No matter what the circumstances, a child is a blessing. You want this blessing, Dara? This gift?”
I swallow and nod. “So much it hurts.”
“That’s my girl.” She pulls me into her embrace again and pats my back. “We’ll handle this one day at a time. Your mama’s here.”
Breathing in and out, I pair my breath to hers, our heartbeats synchronizing naturally as they always do when she holds me.
Mama runs her fingers through my hair for a long time, humming and kissing me wherever she can reach in our cuddled-up position.
“Don’t you worry, Dara. I’ll show you the way to motherhood.” She lifts my chin so that I’m looking into her dark eyes. “You, my sweet girl, are my gift.” A tear slips down her dark cheek. “And this baby, this baby is your gift.”
Chapter Four
It is thought that the human aura is made of fifteen different layers of energy, which present in a wide variety of colors. These colors determine where your mental, emotional, and physical embodiment is at any given time. For example, if you are happy and healthy, your aura may be a fresh-cut-grass green tone.
SILAS
“Damn infuriating woman!
” I roar when I make my way outside to my car. Checking the street left and right, I don’t see her anywhere, and yet it’s only been a minute since she walked out of the door, the word dripping like acid off her lips.
Nursery.
Fuck! She saw the baby’s room.
I palm my nonexistent hair, tip my head back, and groan. “Fuck!”
“Dude! What the hell is going on?” Atlas walks up to me, eyes wide, mouth tight. “I heard the little spat you had with Dara. I had no idea there was something between you two.”
“It’s nothing. None of your fucking business,” I growl between clenched teeth. “I have to find her, but she’s gone. Vanished into thin air.”
Atlas chuckles, placing his hand over his mouth when I scowl and shoot a pair of invisible daggers at his laughing face. “Relax.” He holds up his hands in a placating gesture.
“How can I relax? You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t, but you’re going to sit down with me over an early lunch and tell me all about it. Then I’ll tell you where Dara is.”
I bum rush him, gripping his shirt between my curled fingers and get up into his face. “Tell me now.” The words come out of my mouth like the lashing of a whip against bare skin.
He shakes his head and shoves me off him. “No fuckin’ way. Not when you’re a few shoulder bites away from being admitted to the loony bin. I protect my friends. Jesus, Si-Dog. What’s gotten into you?”
A five-foot-five, sassy meditation teacher, apparently, but I keep my grill shut, not wanting to prevent him from giving me the information I need.
Atlas loops an arm around my shoulders. “Dude, you need to chill. Let’s go have some lunch at Rainy Day. They have the best sandwiches. It will be like tasting heaven.”
I scoff. He doesn’t know, but I’ve already tasted heaven. Several times as a matter of fact.
Dara’s plump lips.
The wetness between her thighs.
Every inch of her brown, smooth skin.
Sucking in a lungful of air does not dispel the images from pounding through my mind. “Fuck!” I growl again. “Just tell me where she is! I’ve got to clear the air. She has it all wrong about me.”
Intimate Intuition Page 4