by Ellie Hall
Kora did a double take of the man sitting across from her, the man she thought was Johnny. She covered her mouth from the shock. At second glance, it was obvious. How could she not have known? “Tommy!” she said with wide eyes.
“We may need a minute,” Tom said to the waiter who avoided making eye contact with Kora. The anxious waiter nodded and left the table. Tom set the manilla envelopes on the table between them. “I’m sorry. When you kissed me, I thought you knew it was me, Tom. John had asked me to meet you because he’s running late. And by late,” he said, glancing toward the entrance, “I mean by a week. He’s in Australia snake hunting and couldn’t get back in time.”
She bit down on her lower lip to prevent it from quivering. “He could’ve called me, and you kissed me back, which means Johnny’s…”
“He’s not involved with anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I won’t make excuses for him. I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t know you and him…never mind.” Tom’s eyes dropped to the envelopes. “Let’s open these together.” He reached for the envelopes, then stopped himself. “This one says that it’s only to be opened by John and the other one by you.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin.
She studied Tom’s face with astonishment. He and Johnny were identical twins, same striking blue eyes, same sweet, innocent smile, but she’d always been able to tell them apart in photos. She must’ve been so excited, nervous, and preoccupied when she’d entered the restaurant that she hadn’t taken the mere few seconds it would’ve required to know that it was Tommy she was kissing, not Johnny. She hadn’t breathed the same air as Tommy in thirteen years, but she knew Johnny’s face.
Tom stared up at the ceiling with a sigh. “I wouldn’t want to mess things up for Aunt Char. Once she sets something in motion, everyone stays out of her way and watches the magic happen. That woman amazes me.” He snapped his fingers, then pointed to the folders. “You open yours and I’ll save this one for John.”
With an anxious swallow, Kora bent up the two metal clasps of the brass fastener and slowly opened the lip of the envelope, taking care to not get a paper cut from its sharp edge. She pulled out three pieces of paper. One page had a flight itinerary for her and Johnny to Hawaii, leaving out of Sun Valley that night. The next page was confirmation of a ten-day silent meditation retreat on the island of Oahu. The third was a handwritten note that read, “Dearest Kora, what you have been searching for is now within reach. Find it before he does. And be prepared to return a different person.”
Find what before who does? Find love? Find herself? “I don’t understand.” She furrowed her brow. Maybe this was all some sort of elaborate game in the form of a treasure hunt, a clever way to bring her and Johnny together to fall in love. The thought sent a thrill through her. To fall in love with Johnny…someone so incredibly handsome, someone so smart and crazy rich who she’d been friends with since they were pre-teens, that would make for an idyllic life. It made sense that Charlotte would tell her that she wouldn’t return the same person if she and Johnny fell deeply in love. Or Charlotte could be aging and losing her faculties. It was highly probable that Johnny wasn’t interested in her. He hadn’t even called to tell her he couldn’t meet her in Sun Valley. “Tom, has your aunt Charlotte been acting strange recently?”
He rubbed his thigh. “Her note is that cryptic, huh? Charlotte is as sane today as she was the first day you met her. She appears scatterbrained, but she’s not. She’s the most focused and determined woman I’ve ever met, and she has a heart of gold. Whatever she’s asking you to do, I’m guessing it’ll benefit you and others.”
Have faith, Kora told herself. She needed to have faith that Charlotte knew what she was doing. She stared down at the flight confirmation page. “Someday this will all make sense. I hope. Do you think John will come join me?”
Tom reached across the table and touched her hand. “Without a doubt. John will be there. I only wish I could tell you when.”
Maybe this crazy matchmaking plan of Charlotte’s would work after all. Kora had nothing to lose. And maybe everything to gain. Charlotte had written that she would return home a changed woman. But how can you change when you don’t even know who you are? She thought she knew herself, until Hector jumped into her car and told her she was Greek. At least one thing was for sure, she wouldn’t find answers sitting in a restaurant. She slurped down the last spoonful of soup and smacked the papers down on the table. “Looks like I have a plane to catch.”
Tom stood and held out his hand to her. “Your chariot awaits.”
Chariot? she thought. “Tommy, do I look Greek to you? And how do you feel about the rain?”
“Rain?” he asked, glancing out the window. “Would you like me to find you an umbrella?”
“No worries,” she said with a blink. It would take too long to explain. “Have you ever been to a silent meditation retreat?” She took his hand and walked with him across the restaurant. “And how do you feel about garaging a very muddy car? And do you see me more as an artist, or an anthropologist?”
“Kora,” he laughed out, patting her arm as they exited the restaurant to a blazing sunset that reached across the length of the horizon, “you are anything but boring. The man who steals your heart will be one lucky guy,” he said with a wink.
“Thanks,” she said, feeling lighter than air. “And John’s envelope?”
The edges of Tom’s lips lifted into a reserved smile. “I’ll put it in his hands the moment he arrives.”
Now, to steal his heart…on a tropical shore. True love, here I come!
3
Where there is shouting, there is no true knowledge.
~Leonardo Da Vinci
Noah finished his last push-up to a thunderous wave breaking against the black lava cliffs. A drop of perspiration dripped from his forehead, dotting the white sand. He jumped up and ripped his cotton T-shirt off over his head, then proceeded to use it to wipe his face dry as the cool ocean breeze blasted his chest, leaving his sticky, wet skin refreshed.
That should keep the ladies happy, he told himself, approving his muscle-pumping workout. Exercising three hours a day, especially right before he taught his first yoga session of the week, had become ritualistic. He found that to keep the new silent meditation participants from dropping like flies after the first day, they needed incentive. For good or bad, he was that incentive.
Molly, the retreat director had told him that women came to the retreat to be one with themselves but stayed to become one with him. If he wanted to keep his job, he had to make the ladies happy. Being eye candy had never been his dream job, but if it meant locating his treasure, he’d pump iron and teach yoga classes all day long. He would only have to hold out a little while longer. He was so close that he could taste the metallic tang of Spanish gold in his mouth.
This will all have been worth it. It will have been worth the hours and days and months, and years he’d studied yoga and silent meditation. It had taken him three years just to qualify to teach at the sanctuary. The only access to those cliffs and shores was through the immaculate gardens of the sanctuary. The coin he’d found as a youth hung from a chain around his neck, the other one was locked in his room. He’d found the second coin last week, close to where he’d discovered the first coin thirteen years ago. Using underwater metal detection devices and GPS mapping every night for the past year while he resided and worked at the sanctuary, he’d created a map of the shoreline.
The one mistake he’d made was to celebrate. He’d been so overjoyed to find the second coin last week that he’d rejoiced vocally. His yelling had caught Molly’s attention. He hadn’t expected to ever have to explain his obsession with finding shipwrecked treasure, so, in a moment of panic, he’d fabricated a fantastical story. His excuse for yelling and dancing around while tossing a gold coin in the air had come out of his mouth sounding like Irish folklore, leprechauns and such. By Molly’s unaffected reaction, she didn’t believe a word he’d said, yet she
hadn’t asked him about his gold coin since that awkward conversation. Lucky for him, he lived in a silent sanctuary where not even the administrators or staff spoke unless they had good reason to. And let’s be honest, it took a unique person to live a life of meditation and silence. His coworkers weren’t one for conversation.
The rising sun blushed pink and yellow, casting colorful rays across the ocean’s rippled surface. The morning meditation hour had almost arrived. It was nearly time to welcome in a new group. Today, work would stretch past sundown, but the late-night hours would be his.
Tonight, I will find another coin, then another, until it leads me to my treasure trove. Thoughts of riches occupied Noah’s mind as he hiked up the hill, dense with foliage, to the gardens.
Fifteen minutes later, he’d reached the flattened area on top. His attention shifted. The natural beauty of land and sea commandeered his thoughts, replacing his worldly aspirations with humble gratitude for God’s wonders. Boasting incredible views of ocean and dry land, the cliff-side gardens couldn’t be beat.
Thirty-five women sat cross-legged on their yoga mats in the only grass clearing on the grounds in the center of the immaculate gardens. Down every secluded path, plants burst with color and fragrance. Flowers had been brought in from all over the world to dress and brighten the once rock-laden spiritual grounds. Noah’s favorite tree was a pomegranate tree he’d planted the day he moved to the sanctuary two years prior, and its first fruits were finally ready to harvest.
Noah ran his fingers through his wavy, shoulder length hair. He centered his mind on nature and relaxation in preparation for his class. He opened his arms wide as he stepped in front of the group, welcoming the women with a bow.
“Welcome to the first day of our silent meditation retreat,” he said with a broad smile.
All eyes lifted to him, all except for one pair. A petite, dark-haired woman continued to sit with her head bowed. He wasn’t sure why her inattention to him annoyed him so much. Afterall, this was a meditation retreat where being one with oneself was of highest importance, not salivating over the instructor.
Noah stepped up onto the wooden flooring built beside the grassy area. It seemed like overkill for the directors to literally lift him up on a pedestal. “I’m happy to see a few familiar faces.” He nodded to the ten or so returning participants who reciprocated with either a bat of their lashes or a sweet smile. “As a reminder, after lunch, there will be no more speaking for the remainder of the ten-day retreat other than occasional question and answer sessions regarding your meditation strategies. I will be performing for you during your traditional Hawaiian dinner tonight, as well as on your last day. After dinner this evening, the meals will be less frequent and completely vegetarian to promote well-being and focus. Thank you for joining together on this journey toward self-realization. Many religions are represented here today, Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, Baha’i, and Jain dharma. In every one of these religions, meditation is a guiding principle of inspiration and nearness to deity. This garden was once an ancient agricultural temple known as a heiau, or Hale-o-Lono, dedicated to the God of fertility. May we commune with one another in our meditative silence in search of true knowledge and light.”
Throughout the three-hour meditation session, Noah kept his eyes on the woman who remained in a deep state of introspection. He didn’t know if he was reaching her on a spiritual level or if she simply didn’t like his approach to meditation and had decided to do it her own way. He needed to know. With every passing minute, his desire for her approval increased to the point where he nearly craved it. Being honest with himself, he craved more than simply her approval; he craved a personal meditation session with the silent, black-haired beauty.
Don’t fall, Noah, he reprimanded himself. Meditate on your dreams. And a mainland girl has no part in that dream.
4
Muses work all day long and then at night get together and dance.
~ Edgar Degas
Kora woke to the sound of a gong. Surprisingly enough, she found she could sleep in a lotus position. After her restless red-eye flight last night, she’d fallen asleep almost instantaneously when she’d sat for her first meditation session. She’d become hypnotized by the soothing ocean sounds and the sweet fragrances of the garden. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she’d been transported to her own personal Garden of Eden.
The sun shone brightly, but under the canopy of leafy trees, the temperature was perfect—a sublime summer’s day. Who wouldn’t want to live in a land of eternal summer?
“Namaste,” the meditation instructor said as he stepped off his wooden floor and walked away.
Kora stretched her back as she stood. At first, her feet defied her, having fallen asleep from being in a dormant position for so long. She stumbled. Once her leg muscles woke and responded to her, she followed the others to an outdoor pavilion where lunch was being served. She sat on a long picnic table and accepted the plate of food placed in front of her. Lentils, rice, and fresh peas sprinkled the plate. Had Charlotte sent her to a weight loss retreat?
“Don’t worry,” a curly-haired brunette next to her said quietly in a Southern accent. “For supper, they’ll serve a traditional Hawaiian meal. That’ll fill us up.” She whistled. “And wait until our instructor dances. Oh my, how he gets my heart pumping.”
“We can talk?” Kora said with excitement, taking a bite of her brown rice and lentils, which had a surprising amount of flavor.
“Only during this first meal,” the peppy, college-aged Southerner said with a sigh. She pinched two fingers together and ran them across her closed lips in the traditional zip-your-lips sign. Kora smiled. She liked this spunky girl. “After that, mums the word. We’ll be left to our own imaginations.” The girl’s blue eyes sparkled. “But I tell you what, I’ve got enough imagination inside this noggin’ to get me through months of meditation with our hot instructor. This is my third retreat. I’m Birdie, by the way,” she said, poking at her food with her fork. “What’s yours?”
“Kora with a K,” she said, swallowing down the last salty bite. Her stomach grumbled, unsatisfied. At least their meal was high in fiber. Hopefully, it would fill her as it traveled through her system.
“Kora?” said Birdie in a sweet, poetic voice. “Is your name Hawaiian? It sounds Polynesian.”
“At this point,” Kora said with a flick of her wrist, “maybe it is.” The research she’d done on the plane about the similarities between the Greeks and the Cora Indians only left her asking more questions. Traveling by sea in ancient Greece was more common than land travel, and they were excellent at navigation and shipbuilding. Which begs the questions: were there ancient Greek explorers? Could a Greek vessel have crossed the ocean and landed in the Americas? As an anthropologist, that dialogue was right up Kora’s alley. During her in-flight internet search, she found an article where a researcher claimed that ancient Greeks made it to America before Columbus. With her internet research now on hold, she’d have to discover who she was in other ways, at least until the retreat had ended. “To tell you the truth, I’m kind of hoping to find myself through deep meditation here at the retreat.”
Birdie leaned into her elbows. “This is the place to find yourself. Me? I’m gonna find myself a hunky Polynesian man. I just know he’s gonna pick me this time.”
“Pick you for what?” Kora asked, staring at the leftover lentils on Birdie’s plate.
Birdie glanced out at the ocean. “To be his muse. He chooses one person every session to help instruct his class when he goes off to paint. He calls her his trusted yogini, someone to basically be his assistant instructor.” Her voice quieted. “But I think he’s painting his assistant. And I’m fixin’ to be his muse.”
“We can paint?” Kora asked with excitement. By the look on Birdie’s face, Kora had said something completely illogical. “I thought the admittance papers said that we couldn’t do anything except meditate—no reading, no writing, no drawing, no phones.�
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A playful smile crossed Birdie’s face. “We can’t, but he can. An instructor gets to do whatever he wants when he’s not instructing, which is every evening.” She wiggled her brows. “Except for tonight. Tonight, he’ll perform a fire dance for us when we’re eating dinner. It’s our one cultural experience of the retreat, besides the last night, where he’ll dance again.”
Kora clasped her hands in front of her chest. “I’ve always wanted to go to a real luau.”
“A real luau?” Birdie shook her head. “You’re missing the point, darlin’. Men dance as a mating ritual. Dancing has been a mating practice since the beginning of time.”
Kora wrinkled her nose in confusion. Then a thought came to her mind. “Didn’t you say that he’s going to dance one last time at the end of the retreat?” Fire shot through her bones. Johnny will be here for the last mating dance!
With a hearty laugh, Birdie rocked back in her seat and clapped. Luckily, she caught herself and hushed before the entire table glared at her for being too loud. “That’s it, Kora. Your face gives you away. That’s the look of a woman who appreciates a well-formed man. I thought maybe you hadn’t noticed our instructor. It’s impossible to be a woman and not appreciate a perfectly sculpted male.” She poked her elbow into Kora’s side. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Kora resisted rolling her eyes. She wasn’t into the bodybuilding type, if that’s the physique this so-called amazing instructor had. She hadn’t been awake to even notice him. Birdie and every other woman there could dream all they wanted about the “hot” instructor. Besides, Kora’s heart was already taken, possibly. At least she hoped so. And she wasn’t there to fall in love. Not yet anyway. First, she’d do some serious soul searching, then Johnny would come and sweep her off her feet. She’d find what she’d been looking for—love—as Charlotte had told her to do.