The Counseling (18 page)

I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulps hard. He wets his lips with his tongue and I urge him in my mind to be strong.

"My name is Patrick Lynn," he says a bit hoarsely. He clears his throat and then starts again. His brown eyes are like dark marbles in the nearly blackened room and I sense the effects the heat is having on him and see the beads of sweat roll down the side of his neck. "I had an ... experience"

When he pauses and grips the stick tighter, Wisdom Walker nudges him on. "There is no judgment, Patrick. Tell us. Tell the Great Spirit what you need."

He swallows again. "I was clinically dead. It was my own stupid fault. I wasn't smart. And now I'm like ... this." He raises his hands, palms up, the stick dropping into his lap. "Everything I touch, everything I see, everything I hear—it all talks to me. I know things I shouldn't. I don't know how to stop it or control it and it's ... slowly driving me insane." He drops his head into his hands.

I want to reach over, but I'm unsure what that would do to him in his exposed state. No hat to block thoughts. No headphones to drown out the clamor. No gloves to obstruct my touch. So instead, I lean farther back and send up a prayer to God to please help Patrick deal with the gifts he's been given.

Patrick swipes his hands over his face. I'm not sure if he's wiping away sweat or tears. Does it really matter, though?

He passes the stick to me. Oceans of angst cover me as I struggle to find words. My name trickles out first as my thoughts cyclone into some semblance of organization.

"K-K-Kendall Moorehead." I pause as my scattered thoughts begin to settle down. "You've all heard the story of my awakening and why I'm here. The bottom line is ... I'm scared. And I'm tired of it. I don't like being scared ... it frightens me."

I hear a smattering of giggles in the darkness and I smile in spite of myself.

Wisdom Walker speaks. "Send it up to the Great Spirit, Kendall."

I press my lips together, feeling the blood rush out momentarily. "My spirit guide, Emily ... my birth mother ... has left me. She passed on, leaving me to fend for myself. Why? Why did she leave me just as we really found each other? And now ... now ... I have to do
this
on my own. She's not there to point me in the right direction or to act as a buffer with the belligerent spirits I encounter. She's my mother! She's supposed to protect me." Tears stream from my eyes as the steam surrounds me. Perspiration beads on my arms. My T-shirt clings to me, and I'm sure there are lovely sweat tracks showing on my sleeves and down my back. I don't care, though. This isn't a beauty contest and I'm not trying to impress. I'm trying to deal with my fear and my ... anger. Looking into the thick steam, I say, "Emily ... Mom ... I can't do this without you. I need help. I'm just a kid. It's bad enough that you died and we never got to know each other. But you taught me so much and you helped me when I was ghost hunting. I need that again if I'm to continue on. Otherwise, God, please take this ability from me."

I slump, exhausted from the heat and mentally spent. I pass the stick to Josiah and completely tune out what he's saying. I want to leave. I want to spout "all my relatives" and get out of here. However, a gentle mental nudge keeps me grounded.

You're not going anywhere, Kendall.

I don't respond to Patrick's support, nor do I glance at him.

I'm here for you...
he says.

I'm about to reach out to him when the flap of the hut is opened and sunlight pours in.

"You have completed the first endurance,"Wisdom Walker says. "Exit while we replace the stones. The nearby stream will provide coolness for you."

Once out, I nab my towel and dab myself all over. Greg, Ricky, Erin, and Jess take off for the stream and jump in without hesitation. I follow and kneel on the bank, scooping the refreshing water onto my arms and legs.

A shadow falls over me and I crane my neck to see who it is, even though I know perfectly well that it's Patrick.

"You done good, Kendall," he says with a smile.

"You too," I say. "Three more to go."

D
URING THE OTHER SWEAT ROUNDS,
I'm nearly blinded with images and visions coming to me. Not so much like the ones I have when I'm connecting with a spirit and seeing what happened to him or her. These are centered on me. The most vivid is during the third round, and in it I'm no longer in the hut. At least, that's what it feels like. I'm on top of a mountain. Clouds hang low, or perhaps I'm just that high up. Their airiness passes through me like a ghost and I'm transported to a level where I can endure anything. There is no doubt, no questioning; I have the strength to do anything. Or so it feels.

After another dunk in the stream—I've sweated off at least five pounds and those Belgian waffles from earlier—we begin the last sweat, during which we are to meditate on our totem animals.

It takes me a few minutes to get back into the groove, but the steam seems even more intense this time. My breath is hot and damp, filling my lungs and spreading through my body. Chubby droplets of perspiration crisscross down my back and my chest. My hair is wet and itchy, yet I push on. A few have left the wickiup, not able to complete the full four rounds of sweating. Maddie couldn't take it after the third round, and Greg didn't return after the second round. Poor Evan Christian left to throw up ten minutes into the third round. Everyone's okay, though, and I have to focus on myself.

Ten minutes or so passes and I'm concentrating so hard that I'm starting to get a headache behind my left eye. Suddenly, the steam in front of me clears and I'm back on the mountaintop. There are no clouds this time; nothing but cornflower blue sky for miles and miles.

A squawk catches my ear and I turn to it. A majestic bald eagle soars by, his wings lifting him past me. He circles around and then comes to stand in front of me. He turns his head and peers at me with his eye. Without speaking, the bird says he's here for me.

The eagle symbolizes a person in transition. I transcend both air and earth and am a carrier of guidance. You have many around to guide you, but you're not patient enough. I am here to help you gain patience. Only through patience will you gain understanding.

Oh ... wow—I'm speechless and in awe. I haven't been patient through my awakening, I do realize that. I've wanted answers quickly.

The eagle flaps his wings and lifts off, hovering in front of me with his talons curled up like weapons of destruction. Steam surrounds him and I know he'll always guide and watch over me. Just like Emily was. I can utilize the eagle's energies to help guide me through situations I don't completely understand. I hear my Grandma Ethel reciting a poem she often told me when I was a little girl: "Patience is a virtue. Virtue is a grace. Both put together make a very pretty face."

And just like that, the mighty eagle before me shape-shifts, stretching out in the steam and becoming a very lovely Native American woman. Her skin is deeply tanned and her crystal green eyes radiate light. Her jet-black hair is shiny, like satin, and cascades over her shoulders. A beautiful sheer dress the color of sea foam flows around her.

"I am Anona. Emily sent me."

"My mom? Is she okay?" I ask the figure.

Anona raises her hand as if to calm me down. "She is at peace, but she heard your petition. I have been chosen as your spirit guide. I will help you with the patience you so need, Kendall."

Tears cloud my vision as I stretch my hand out to meet Anona's. Her energy and warmth encompasses me through the steam, sending vaporous fingers of security and confidence to embrace me. Perhaps I'm completely hallucinating in my heat-induced state and from all the smoking sage. But no. This is real. Anona is real. And she was sent here by Emily to watch over me.

"Will you be with me when I get home?" I ask.

Anona smiles wide. "I'm here as long as you need me, Kendall."

Relief crashes around me, a liberation of sorts. I'm no longer alone. I can face the spirits and help them in whatever way necessary. I won't be afraid. I will be patient in learning and using my abilities.

Anona blows me a kiss, and then the steam consumes her. Tension I didn't even realize I was holding in my body finally floods out through my limbs with a gentle tingle and flutter. I believe I've found peace. Whoa. Who knew that a little sweat could do this? I am armed with love from all realms—my family, my friends, my deceased relatives, animals, and my new spirit guide. Kendall Moorehead is going to be A-OK!

"No! Stop them! Stop them!" Patrick screams next to me.

I'm jerked out of my reverie and abruptly called to help him. He's in a trancelike state, staring into the steaming center of the rocks. He's twitching and holding his hands up as if to protect himself from what he's seeing.

"Stop what?" I implore him.

Wisdom Walker shifts over. "Don't shake him out of his daze. He needs to ride out the vision"

"Make them stop! Get them away," Patrick shouts.

I turn to Wisdom Walker. "Can't you do anything? He's in pain"

"Yes, he is," the older man tells me. His dark eyes zero in on me, dancing over my face. They shift to Patrick, and then back to me. A soft, gentle, and knowing smile spreads across his face, like he's aware of the connection Patrick and I have. "He needs you." he says quietly.

Without making contact, I lean over and say close to his ear, "I'm here, Patrick. It's Kendall. Show me what's happening." I place my hand on his bare shoulder; my fingers nearly burn into his sweaty skin. But I'm propelled into his vision like a bullet train, where his fear is palpable and I know I'm the only one who can lead him out of this dreadful confusion.

He shudders against me and I hear him gasp for air. With our minds locked, he tells me,
There are dolphins everywhere. They're ... they're carrying me out deeper. Deeper out to sea.

Stay with me, Patrick ... hold on.

A lonely tear escapes from his eye, and I squash the desire to wipe it away. This is his terror of the water manifesting itself. Sadly, Wisdom Walker is correct. Patrick needs to ride this out.

I break from the vision to seek advice. "What does a dolphin signify, Wisdom Walker?"

"Many things," he informs me. As he talks, I listen intently so I can relay the information to Patrick. I grip his shoulder again and am thrust back into his vision.

Patrick, the dolphins aren't hurting you,
I explain in the most calming voice I can muster up.
They're your totem animal. They're guiding you.

He shakes his shaggy hair, drenched in sweat, and he screams in my head:

No!

Yes. Listen to me. The dolphins teach us harmony of mind, body, and spirit. They help balance our emotional and mental selves. They provide harmony within duality. Just like what you're going through.
You've got these abilities you have to live with now. The dolphins are trying to help you with that.

Patrick stops twitching.
They won't drown me?

No, not at all,
I transmit to him with confidence.
They protect you. They teach the value of touch as a means of support and healing. Your touch, Patrick. You see things with it. You can help others with that. Dolphins communicate through telepathy...
I trail off, then add,
Just like you and I communicate telepathically.

I hear you, Kendall.

The dolphins want you to play ... play in the water again, Patrick. They want you to live. I want you to live.

With that, Patrick's eyes pop open and we share a searing moment through the swirling steam. He nods his thanks to me, but I can see his eyes are still wild with confusion and he wants out of here to let all of this information soak in. He clears his throat and mutters the request to leave that Wisdom Walker taught us at the beginning.

"All my relatives," he says huskily.

I move back and let him pass.

"I think after the intense day we had this morning, you all deserve to do something fun," Oliver announces when we get back to the inn around one. "Wha'd'ya say we hit the beach?"

A collective whoop and holler sounds out. We all split off to our rooms to ocean up. I quickly decide to wear my pink bikini instead of my one-piece Speedo.

"I am so totally going to get some gnarly waves," Jess says. She crams sunscreen into her bag and reaches for her shades. "Want me to teach you?"

"On what?" I ask. "You don't have a surfboard with you."

"That's okay," she says. "We'll get Oliver to take us to a beach where we can rent boards or, better yet, bodyboards. That might be a better start for you."

"Considering I've never stepped a toe into the Pacific Ocean, I don't care. I just want to say I've done it." I've been to the Gulf of Mexico one time, when I was little, and last summer, before we moved to Radisson, Dad took us all to Hilton Head on the Atlantic. I've never been out west before, so this is definitely going to be a memorable experience.

Jess laughs. "I'll take my phone and video-document the occasion."

We hightail it out of our room and meet up with the other girls. When we get to the front of the inn, the luxury liner has turned around and is waiting for us to reboard. The boys are in baggy shorts and flip-flops and ready to go. Except Patrick. Sadly, he's reverted to his old costume of a T-shirt, gloves, hat, and sunglasses. And here I thought we'd made progress this morning with the dolphins and their message to him.

I can't worry about him right now. This whole retreat has been angst and self-doubt, questioning and contemplating, finding myself and sweating. Now it's time for some fun. It
is
spring break, you know. Girl's got to come home with a little bit of a tan.

Two hours later, we pull up to the most amazingly sparkling beach I've ever seen—okay, as I said, I've only been to two beaches before. To our left is a long pier. People with fishing poles are scattered along the length with their bait in the jostling water. Waves slam into the legs of the pier with each strong gust of wind. On the beach, the tide rolls to the shore in a blasting manner, spraying the sea high into the air. I lick my lips and taste the salt on my skin.