Enlightened (Love and Light Series) (3 page)

With her arms folded over her chest, she paused at the back of the room and did what she did best—searched her flock for imbalances.
There
. Something was not quite right with Jeremy. It wasn’t the physical placement; Jeremy looked great in down dog, but something wasn’t, well, right. She softened her focus until it popped from the splatter in her mind like a 3D image. Instead of a picture, Loti got a sympathetic feeling wherever the problem was. In this case, his prana trickled from his heart chakra up between his shoulder blades. She didn’t always experience it like that, though. Sometimes it was an amorphous feeling that she had to roll around like a ball of clay in her mind until it took the shape of a thought. She never actually saw anything, but she could describe it in visual and sensual terms she’d learned studying subtle energy theory.

She could detect subtle energy in people for as long as she could remember, but Loti was eleven years old when her little sister started throwing up for no apparent reason. When Calla ended up in the hospital from dehydration, the doctors ran tests looking for something wrong with her stomach. Loti knew the problem wasn’t her seven-year-old sister’s stomach, because what she felt was pressure in her head, like a bloated lake straining against a dam. Blinking, Loti wound her way to Jeremy, one of her fair-weather yogis.

“May I touch you, Jeremy?”

“Be gentle.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to touch your shoulder blades.”

“I have some better places in mind,” he teased.

He sounded like he might be grinning, and she shook her head. His sun-streaked hair hung loose between his tanned arms as his backside stuck up in the air. His biceps and triceps bulged with the effort to hold the inverted V position as she steeled herself and placed her hands on his sweaty back. Like having a TENS machine hooked up to her hands, electricity crawled across her fingers in multiple lines. She closed her eyes focusing on the sensation of ants marching from her chest to her finger tips, using slow breaths to empty her mind one exhale at a time. Jeremy shifted his weight.

 “That tingles.”

“Shhh, almost done.” When the electric ants started to bite her hands, they scurried out her fingertips and into his back, leaving behind a ghostly tingle.

“Whoa,” Jeremy barked.

Loti lifted her hands with a satisfied nod and strode toward the front of the group, encouraging the class to lower into child’s pose.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After class, as everyone chit-chatted and packed up, Jeremy strolled up, tugging his gray hoodie over his head. A big hug from another student snapped her attention away from him, and Loti closed her eyes to steady herself, but couldn’t help stealing another glance at Jeremy. When he winked with an amused smile, her stomach fluttered. He inched closer, claiming his turn.

“That was pretty cool.” His more gray than blue eyes twinkled.

Disarmed by the genuine admiration in his voice, Loti smiled in surprise.
Knock it off; what do you think you’re doing?
She tamped the smile down a notch.

 “You can do that anytime you want.” Jeremy laughed as he patted her arm.

Loti’s sigh wobbled as she shook her head. “You kill me, Jeremy. That’s so inappropriate.”

“Ah, come on. You know you love it,” he said with a big, fat bird-eating grin.

Biting her lip to heel a disloyal grin, she leaned away from the handsome, young man, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“So,” Jeremy’s tone sobered. “I guess we won’t see you for a while.” He crossed his own arms over his chest, his grin faltering.

 “Why, Jeremy, I didn’t think you cared.” She winked then slapped a hand to her eye.

Jeremy’s grin bordered on a smirk bordered on a smirk, while her throat tightened. Life had become so somber that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been even remotely playful. She was so absorbed in navigating the dark and stormy waters since David’s diagnosis that the thought of fun, much less flirting, was little more than a theory.

“You will come back, won’t you?” Another student appeared beside Jeremy.

“I plan on it.” Relief mixed with disappointment as Loti turned her attention to the younger woman who had practiced with Loti since the studio opened four years ago.

“Good,” she said. “You’re my favorite yoga teacher. No one measures up.”

 “That’s sweet, but I don’t do anything different.” Loti waved off the uncomfortable compliment, fingering her lip with the other hand.

Jeremy chuckled. “Don’t be so humble. Who else maxes out the studio?” He waved a hand at all the people lining up behind him.

Frowning, she took a moment to glance around at the line forming behind Jeremy. That was odd. Most folks packed up and left right away. Oh, a few would hang around chatting with her while she closed up the studio, but never like this.

“Loti, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She jerked her head around and forced a rigid smile at the older woman who had her fists jammed to her bony hips.

“I’m so sorry. What’s wrong?” Loti’s eyes flared.

“Don’t give me that.” She flapped a bird-like hand in Loti’s face and whined, “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t stand any of the other instructors.”

Loti sighed and clasped her hands over her heart, her smile softening a bit. “I’m so sorry, Charlaigne. Really, I am, but I’ve got to take some time off.”

Charlaigne’s hands drooped to her side as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Well, I guess, but first Peter, now you.”

Loti had no idea what to say, so she peered around her at the people lining up. Of course Charlaigne would complain; Charlaigne always complained about something, but that didn’t change the fact that she spoke to Loti’s self-doubt—that she was being selfish. Her eyes flitted around the room as she fought the urge to apologize.

“Charlaigne, knock it off. You know why.” Rachel elbowed herself to the front of the line, poking Charlaigne in the ribs. She wrapped Loti in a bear hug. “Don’t let her rent space in your head,” Rachel whispered into her ear. “You do what you need to and when you’re done here, meet me at the cafe. I’ll snag a table in the alley.” She gave Loti one more little squeeze before walking away.

Loti tightened the lid on her emotions as she hugged and shook hands for the next thirty minutes. When the last person walked out the door, she freed a long, noisy breath. She rolled up her mat, all the tension draining out of her shoulders. All the energy and work she put in with her students made her responsible for them and leaving wasn’t easy. Adrift in her thoughts, she scooped up the pile of blankets.

“Let me help.” Jeremy’s voice startled her.

She’d lost track of him at some point and assumed he’d left, but there he was, leaning against the wall by the stereo behind her. He pushed himself away and took some of the blankets from her. Her mouth slack, she followed him to the storage room, staring at his back, warring with something that spiraled low in her belly. Then David’s ghost flashed in her thoughts like a cartoon light bulb. She sucked in a breath.
David’s dead
. The thought splashed like ice water, and she dropped her gaze to the blankets they were stacking on the rack in the closet. In the tight space, Loti’s hip bumped his leg.

“Oh, ‘scuse me,” she mumbled, careful to keep her eyes averted.

“No problem.”

His husky voice hitched her breath. They were so close she could smell the soap he’d washed with and the musky, workout sweat drying on his skin. She exhaled sharply, turning to escape as fast as she could. But she tripped into his arms. Wide-eyed and shaking, she froze. He didn’t toss some flirty line at her. He stared down, his eyes asking questions she couldn’t—or didn’t want to—answer.

“I need to go. Rachel’s waiting for—”

He pressed warm lips to her trembling ones. Her head swam with panic as he slid his arms around her, deepening the kiss. His hands wandered over her back, skating under her shirt hem and over her warm, bare skin. When his fingers grazed her flesh, it dawned on her that she was kissing him back. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, and their stomachs, and lower things, were melded together. Horrified, she shoved Jeremy’s hips away, breaking the kiss and hissed through gritted teeth, “Stop.”

Jeremy’s eyes were glazed and half hidden by his shaggy hair. His breath was shallow as one arm fell away from her and the other gripped the storage rack behind her. She turned away from his broad chest into his hard, muscular arm.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” he whispered.

Lust and revulsion tangled in her belly as she mumbled, “Jeremy...please.” She caught her breath. “David. . .”

His arm dropped out of the way, and his fevered eyes cooled into a careful concern. “Hey, I get it. No explanation necessary.” He wrapped a hand around hers, giving it a mollifying squeeze. When she didn’t pull back right away, he leaned his forehead against hers. For a second they both closed their eyes, Loti yielding to his comforting gesture. When he crept closer, she splayed her free hand against his chest and shoved.

“That’s enough, Don Juan.”

He stumbled back and she swallowed down the confusing mix of emotions. Holding him at bay, she extracted her other hand from his as she scuttled out the door. His chin dropped, eyes still closed, as he drooped against the wall. Out in the open space of the studio, she took a deep breath and turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his hair hiding his eyes as he studied his flip flops. His long surfer shorts showed off muscular calves.
How old is he, anyway?
25
?
She was only 30
,
but she felt so much older.

“I know I’m a fool, Jeremy.” Her voice shook despite her careful control.

 He looked up through the curtain of bangs. His light-hearted smile absolved her. “I’ve had a thing for you for a while.” He shrugged it off and reached down for his yoga mat.

She forced herself to look in his eyes as he straightened. “I’m not ready.”

He cleared his throat. “So when will you be?” And he flung the mat over his shoulder.

Her stomach did a flip and she licked the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know. It’s still fresh.” Her gaze wavered.

Jeremy flicked the hair out of his eyes. “I’m not going to push it. Don’t worry.” He smiled wider, showing teeth. “But you’ve got to know how damn hot you are. Maybe when you get back from this trip.”

Loti relaxed the hands she’d balled up. A warm blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

Loti replayed the interlude with Jeremy as she walked down Main Street staring at the sidewalk. Oblivious to the cars whizzing by, she zipped her fleece jacket up to her chin and stuffed her hands in the pockets. It was one of those pre-spring mountain nights: crisp, clear and smelling like damp earth and new growth. The air was like a cool compress on a fresh bruise, easing her overheated and throbbing thoughts. Glancing at her Uggs, she was grateful she wore them instead of the funky dance shoes she often bummed around in.

At the corner of Main and Davis, she bit her lip and her eyes clouded over, unseeing. She flashed back on Jeremy’s eager hands, his clean and musky scent, and his warm lips. She smashed cold fingers to her mouth.
If I live a hundred lifetimes, I can never earn the right to feel anything like that, again—ever.
Her husband of five years had been cremated a few months ago, and the ashes were still in a wooden box on her altar at their house. She’d taken them home until she could spread him at their favorite vista in the Blue Ridge Mountains—MaKaffee’s Knob. She planned to spend part of her sabbatical hiking there. She scratched at her cheek which was pink with cold and narrowed her eyes.
How long has it been since the memorial service?
June 11
^th
and today was—

“No,” she gasped, covering her eyes with her hand. It had been over nine months since the quiet, uncomfortable gathering at Gram Dupree’s house.

David’s grandmother wore the simple black dress with the white lace collar. Her soft voice and gracious demeanor permitted everyone to murmur their condolences to Loti, then with great care she steered them away. Loti didn’t ask Gram to do that. But she was grateful because she had no idea how to respond to: “We’re praying for you” and “We’re so sorry for your loss.” The words made her angry for some ungodly reason, but the most heartless was, “We have to trust that God has a plan.” The only condolences that made any sense were: “There are no words,” or a simple, “We love you”. There weren’t words in any language to offer comfort when someone just picked out a pine box to cremate her husband in.