BlendTherapy? She thought. I’ve never heard of such a thing.
“Really? Good.” Michelle didn’t seem to notice her mother’s concern, but Bev must have picked up on it.
“I love the way you’ve raised your daughter to be so open,” she remarked to Sheila with a warm smile. “You’ve given her the gift of choosing her own path.”
She returned the woman’s smile. “It’s always been our goal to let our children discover their own beliefs.”
“Very commendable. You have an intelligent and sensitive daughter. She’ll make wise choices,” Bev replied reassuringly.
On the way home in the car, Sheila listened carefully to the conversation between Michelle and Monica. Both girls seemed very enthusiastic and excited about the other class. Apparently, the class was an introduction to a new form of psychology called BlendTherapy. Bev had mentioned a meshing of traditional psychology with a New Age perspective on the spiritual realm of life.
Her daughter appeared hungry for spiritual exploration and understanding, and Monica encouraged her as a willing partner in this venture. Sheila wondered what Michelle’s grandparents would think of this. Or for that matter, what she, herself, should think. Although Michelle had always been a levelheaded girl, it was clear that she was about to dive into something that could radically change her life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Traffic was congested leaving the airport Sunday afternoon. Michelle’s mind wandered as she crept along the road, her thoughts replaying the last few days of her visit with her mom. Feelings of homesickness she’d fought for months resurfaced with a wave of emotion as she watched her mother’s plane take off.
It had been great spending so much time with her mom. But today, the emptiness she had been trying to deny suddenly overwhelmed her. And something about her mother’s parting words left her feeling apprehensive.
“Try to come down this summer, Mimi. And we’re hoping you will be home for the holidays, too,” she had said as she hugged Michelle and left to board her plane.
It had never dawned on Michelle that she might not see her parents this Christmas. She’d never spent the holiday without them. Although her mother’s intention was to sound optimistic and to create a bridge to their next get-together, her choice of words had impacted Michelle in the opposite way. Fears and concerns about her father were feeding her anxieties, and she wondered what it would be like if she never saw either of them again.
“Snap out of it,” Michelle chided herself as tears began to fill her eyes. “What is the matter with me?” she wondered aloud. But she just couldn’t shake an uncomfortable feeling that nothing was going to be the same again.
John Ackerman kept replaying over and over in his mind the new evidence that could convict him. He felt like a caged animal. His heart began to race and his breathing quickened. Reaching into the drawer he fingered the revolver he had purchased as a protective measure many years ago. He knew that in a moment he could be free from all the anxiety and fear that haunted him during the preliminary hearings.
The last thing he wanted was a long drawn-out trial, followed by a disgraceful conviction and possible imprisonment. Maybe this was the best answer for everyone. It would save Sheila from the humiliation and uncertain financial future that could result from this nightmare.
He carefully lifted the revolver out of its resting place and was turning it over in his hand when the phone rang. Setting the gun back in the drawer, he reached for the receiver. His father-in-law’s voice greeted him.
“Hello, John. I’ve been thinking about you today, and I thought I’d just give you a jingle,” Phil said cheerfully.
“Hi, Dad. It’s good to hear your voice. I’m glad you called.” John replied, closing the drawer. “Sheila is coming back today, but it sure has been lonely around here.”
“How’s everything going with that lawsuit, Son? Joan and I have been praying for you.”
“Thanks. I can use all the help I can get,” John admitted. “It’s still too early to tell, but I am a little worried.”
“Well, you know how we feel, John. God is in control. Consider turning to Him. He could really help you through this,” Phil urged.
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll think about it. Hey, thanks again for calling, Phil. You may have helped me more than you know,” John said sincerely, glancing at the tightly closed drawer.
Phil breathed a silent prayer as he gently replaced the phone receiver. Had he really helped? Would John consider turning his life over to the only One who could save him?
Sheila had much to think about on the plane ride home. She was concerned about John and wondered what state of mind he would be in when she got home. Rivaling her concerns for her husband were those she held for her daughter. A persistent feeling inside kept flagging her that something was wrong, and that Michelle was headed for trouble.
As she sat and thought about these issues, her father’s voice spoke gently in her memories.
“Have you prayed about this, Sheila?”
It was almost as if he were sitting beside her. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat.
Michelle and Monica chatted and laughed lightheartedly as they approached The New World Bookstore. Like two schoolgirls looking forward to a new year of classes, Michelle could see that her friend was as eager and excited as she was about their first class in BlendTherapy. She felt a wave of gratitude for Monica. Their friendship helped fill the lonely days she struggled through in her new home. She was confident that this new joint pursuit would further bond their friendship.
As they entered the bookstore, the strong smell of incense momentarily overtook them. Starla waved and beckoned them to the back of the room. A small spiral staircase led up to a fairly large attic.
The only furnishings were pillows of all sizes strewn around the room’s periphery. Posters on the wall of Buddha, the Dalai Lama, and Jesus lent a spiritual atmosphere. A large tapestry from India depicting the worship of sacred cows dominated one wall. Though the floor space was bountiful, the sloping ceilings gave the room a feeling of coziness.
In the middle of the room was a mat with a tray on it. A large candle, some matches, a stack of booklets, crayons, and a tape player identified this spot as the focal point for the class.
Starla explained that the instructor would be back momentarily. The sound of the bell downstairs indicated that someone had entered the bookstore, and she left Michelle and Monica up in the attic room to greet whoever it might be. Voices, that grew louder as they approached, belonged to three other women and two young men who had also enrolled in the course.
Michelle and Monica introduced themselves to the new arrivals and then all of them found a spot to sit. With pillows propped behind their backs, the students exchanged a few comments and questions as they waited for their instructor. More voices and bodies drifted into the room during the next few minutes. By the time the teacher, Trevor Wind, had emerged from below, twelve eager students awaited, sitting in a circle around the edges of the room.
Trevor’s warm smile and tranquil countenance was captivating. He was poised and confident, introducing himself as their new guide into the enlightening realm of BlendTherapy. Everyone seemed riveted as he gave a testimony of his life, raised by a single mother who battled alcoholism and drug addiction.
Michelle tried to imagine what it must have been like, as he spoke of a lonely childhood, a broken marriage, and drug overdose as the key factors that led to his first encounter with BlendTherapy. Locked overnight in a psychiatric ward for observation after his overdose, he spoke of a kind and gentle nurse named Trisha who had compassionately shared with him about his potential to find hope and peace in life. She promised to help him, and upon his release he’d moved into her apartment.
Michelle noticed the sparkle in his eyes when he told them Trisha was like an angel sent from God. He explained that she comforted and encouraged him and began taking him to her classes in BlendTherapy. She said she saw BlendTherapy to be
the answer for so many desperate lives she had witnessed during her work as a psychiatric nurse.
He looked around the circle, making eye contact with each of them, as he explained that BlendTherapy treats the whole person—body, mind, and spirit. According to Trisha, nothing else she had encountered had such potential for healing and a fresh start, going so far as to say that several of her patients, who had been in and out of various psychiatric wards, were now fully functioning, productive members of society.
He explained that an intensive one-year training program had convinced him. He was totally transformed. Now his mission was to help others unlock their inner potential. “BlendTherapy is for everyone who desires to grow,” he said as he looked around the room again, smiling compassionately at each individual.
Michelle glanced at Monica, and they gave each other the “thumbs up” sign. They were ready.
“Let’s begin with a simple exercise,” Trevor suggested. “Close your eyes and imagine a symbol for yourself. For example, you might envision a waterfall ever plunging and rushing, never able to rest. Or perhaps you see yourself as a timid deer on the edge of an open meadow, shy but curious.” He paused. Silence blanketed the attic room.
Michelle could hear her heart beating as she searched her mind for a symbol.
A few long moments later Trevor continued. “While you are thinking, I am going to place before you a booklet. The first page inside is blank. When you have a clear picture of your symbol, open your eyes and sketch it on that page.”
Soft mandolin music drifted through the air from the tape player, as she heard him quietly pass out the booklets and crayons. The rustle of pages told her that various participants had begun drawing in their booklets. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Trevor sat directly across from her and had begun to make his own sketch in a booklet.
She flipped open her workbook and picked up a crayon, beginning to sketch her symbol tentatively. Feeling eyes on her, she glanced up from her drawing and saw that Trevor was studying her. She couldn’t help but notice his handsome face and sensitive eyes. It made her blush when he smiled. She quickly looked back down at her booklet and tried to regain her composure as she finished her drawing.
Next Trevor had the students introduce themselves and share their drawings around the circle, one at a time. Some of the illustrations were quite eye-catching, revealing the artistic talents of various students.
When it was her turn to share, Michelle felt embarrassed by her rough, childlike sketch of a kitten looking out a window. However, Trevor seemed pleased.
“Very insightful,” he said. “What are you looking for outside of your world?” Smiling in a reassuring way, he moved on to Monica without waiting for Michelle to reply.
After all the students had shared their drawings, Trevor gave them an assignment for the week. He instructed them to begin a journal. Each day they were to reflect for a time on their drawing and ask themselves what the drawing revealed. Any and all thoughts that followed were to be recorded. He thanked them for joining him in the adventure of BlendTherapy and promised to see them all the following week.
As the students gathered up their belongings, Michelle glanced over at Trevor. Two women were talking to him about their prior experiences with therapy. He seemed intently interested in their stories. His compassion was evident, and she was impressed.
Sitting at the desk in her bedroom, Michelle excitedly described her first class in BlendTherapy as she typed an email to her friend, Kristin.
“Trevor is so warm and friendly. He made us all feel at ease right away. You’d love him, Kristin. He just seems to really care about people.”
The sound of Steve’s car broke her concentration, and she signed off and clicked the send box. Glancing at her watch, she raced downstairs. It was already seven o’clock, and she hadn’t even started dinner. Quickly grabbing a box of macaroni and cheese out of the cupboard, she hurried to get a pan of water on the stove, nearly stepping on poor Max as he lamented his lack of dinner.
Steve looked tired and hungry as he entered the room.
“What’s up, Max?” he asked as the feline cried and rubbed against his leg.
“He’s just hungry,” Michelle answered. “I got busy writing an email to Kristin and lost track of the time.”
Steve sighed. “Guess we have to wait for dinner, fellow.” He scratched Max on the back and gave Michelle a quick peck on the cheek.
She quickly put some cat food in a bowl on the floor and then followed him into the family room. “How was your day, hon?” she asked.
“Too long. How ’bout yours?” Steve collapsed on the couch.
“It was great. Monica and I had our first class in BlendTherapy today.”
“Blend what?” Steve asked.
“BlendTherapy. Remember I told you about the flyer I got from the bookstore?” she said, trying to be patient. It was obvious Steve had little interest in this new venture.
“Oh yeah, right. I remember now. So how was it?” Steve rested his head back on the cushions.
She launched into a full-blown description of the class and their homework assignment for the week. “The teacher explained to us how BlendTherapy addresses all the parts of a person—body, mind, and spirit. Then we sat with our eyes closed and thought of a symbol that represented who we are. We drew the pictures of our symbols and discussed them. You should have seen some of the artwork. It was amazing.”
Waiting for him to reply, she glanced over and noticed that his eyes were closed and his chest was slowly and rhythmically moving up and down. He was asleep. At first she was crushed by his indifference, but then chided herself for not being more sensitive to his obvious exhaustion. Still, as she walked quietly back into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but think about Trevor and the way he focused so intently on her when she spoke.
Shaking her head in an attempt to shake away that thought, she set about completing their simple dinner as she chatted with Max. When the meal was almost complete, she walked into the family room and looked at Steve asleep on the couch. Unsure whether or not to awaken him, her dilemma was solved when Max rocketed himself onto Steve’s chest and abruptly ended his nap.
He seemed a bit disoriented then somewhat embarrassed when he realized he’d fallen asleep. “I’m sorry, Michelle. I guess I’m more beat than I thought,” he apologized.
She forced a smile and reassured him she understood. “Dinner will be on the table in just a minute,” she added.
Their meal was quieter than usual, and Michelle could tell that Steve had a lot on his mind. She caught herself smiling partway through the meal as she remembered Trevor’s question about what she was looking for. Blushing, she looked over at Steve, but he was lost in his own thoughts. She sighed and got up to do the dishes. Steve scooped Max up and headed back to the couch to relax.
Over and over in her mind, Michelle replayed the class, seeing Trevor’s friendly smile and his compassionate eyes. A voice inside told her that these thoughts were dangerous, but she was mesmerized by her teacher’s charm.
That night Michelle had another one of her dreams.
A black tunnel. Cold and alone. She strained her eyes to see the end of the darkness. Where is the escape? The blackness seemed to swallow her, her heart beating furiously. Trying to scream, she found herself unable to make a sound. Running. Breathing. Crying. Now someone was following her. His voice called out, “Michelle, it’s me. You’re safe. I’ll help you.”
Michelle turned. She fell into his strong arms. The tunnel dissolved and they were standing in a field of wheat. The soothing sound of his heartbeat calmed her as she rested her head against his chest. Looking up into Steve’s eyes she realized something was different.
This wasn’t Steve. But it was. It felt like Steve; she recognized the feel of his body against hers. But the face, the face belonged to Trevor. It was Trevor’s aqua eyes that reassured her.
Michelle awoke with a start. She looked over at Steve, asleep beside her, a
nd was flooded with a myriad of emotions. Unable to free herself from images of Trevor, her guilt escalated.
I love Steve, she reminded herself silently.
A moment later, he rolled over and snuggled against her. She could feel her racing heart begin to slow, but her mind spun with confusion.
CHAPTER NINE
The sound of the shower pulled Michelle from her sleep. Somehow she had missed the alarm clock again and was surprised that Steve was already getting ready for work. She sat up and thought about her day ahead. Then her dream came filtering back into her consciousness.
“I’ll have to see what Mr. Gessler thinks about that one!” she murmured to herself as she arose and got dressed.
She was just about to race downstairs to get Steve some breakfast when he collided with her between the closet and the bathroom. “Sorry,” he said without even looking at her. “Do you know where my gray tie is? It’s not on the rack.”
“I think I dropped it off at the cleaners with your shirts.”
“Bummer.” He rifled impatiently through the ties that remained.
Michelle could see he was not in the best mood. “Here. Wear this striped one. It’ll look fine with that shirt,” she offered, handing him one of the ties her mother had sent him for his birthday.
“Yeah, okay,” he replied, quickly snatching it from her hand and heading for the mirror.
“Do you want me to fix you some toast?” she asked.
“Not today. I’m late already.” He whizzed past her and down the stairs.
“No hug?” Michelle asked the empty space he left behind. She’d hoped she’d be able to spend a few minutes with him, especially after last night. But his job was becoming increasingly demanding, and his responsible nature drove him to extend his hours at both ends of most days. If there was one thing she’d learned about her husband, it was that he detested leaving unfinished business. The way he left so abruptly meant he would probably be getting home late again tonight.
Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Page 7
