It’ll take time. Have patience with the process, angel.
Although the voice was familiar to her now, Angie glanced around—mostly to be sure no one heard her respond. “You knew about this, too, didn’t you?” she challenged. She gazed up at the rolling clouds, shades of gray on gray, heedless of how wet she was getting. “You talked me into this trip, knowing this thing with Kyle Iverson would happen, didn’t you?”
The waves lapped quietly around her ankles.
“Fine! Duck out when I ask you a pertinent question!”
You’ve done your share of resisting! Didn’t want to believe I knew what I was doing when I led you here. But that’s okay. You can’t swallow it all in one gulp.
“I’m being force-fed!”
Lucky for you that Lenore and Ross loved you at first sight. And Kyle is beside himself with joy. This is a miracle he didn’t know he was waiting for.
Angie sighed and ambled down the beach. The rain fell steadily now, cooling emotions that hadn’t flared this hot since her worst days with Gregg. Before her divorce, she’d wanted out, wanted to be left alone. Now that she’d walked away from him, she’d stumbled into a whole new hornet’s nest of emotions. Yet this time she saw light at the end of a tunnel rather than the void at the bottom of a well. She felt hope and warmth, and she knew she’d survive.
No, Angie, you’ll triumph. Your days of merely surviving are behind you.
Angie looked up at clouds that danced in exquisite beauty while distant thunder accompanied them. From deep inside her, ideas bubbled to the surface, connections she couldn’t make while Ross, Lenore, and Kyle were talking her down from the ledge her adoption had placed her on. What was it Ross had said during his radio show? He’d been telling her how the master numbers in her name proclaimed her a most powerful and most loving—
You have no idea who you really are.
Yes! He’d said that in reference to numerology and, yet now that she’d learned Patty McCormick and Kyle Iverson were her birth parents, that statement slapped her in the face. Who was she, really? She had no idea, after considering herself Bill and Helen Cavanaugh’s daughter all her life. Did this change her chart? Maybe, if the last name on her birth certificate was really McCormick, would that change Ross’s assessment of her?
Ask him. You can trust his answers.
Angie blinked. That voice—her own divine guidance—was urging her to believe what she’d been hearing all week, and to apply it to all this new information. And hadn’t he said she had karma to work out from previous lifetimes? Something about abusing her power before, so—
You’ve placed yourself in situations that teach you what it’s like to feel helpless.
Holy cow. Had she really come into this lifetime to learn? Had she chosen to be born out of wedlock, and chosen to come back to Harmony Falls now as the next step of this discovery process? How wild was that? Because yeah, she was feeling distinctly helpless right now as these new discoveries came at her—
Like a bolt out of the blue. Important people are coming into your life who will overturn a lot of deep-seated beliefs.
Angie’s mouth fell open. Lenore had foretold this predicament when she’d been teaching about transformational tarot, when she’d explained that card with the ominous-looking tower surrounded by bolts of lightning.
Don’t forget the Wheel card, where the girl on the beach drew around herself in the sand.
It amazed Angie how easily she recalled those images after working with them only once. The young red-haired woman was designing and defining her world, Lenore had said.
I see you secure in your power, confident of your abilities to remain outside conflict: You control your emotions. You can remain untouched by negativity if you choose to. You exude passion and personal power.
So this was how it felt to wield personal power? Angie kicked at the next little wave and then dashed away from a much larger one about to roll in and knock her over. Where did personal power come from? Had she been born with it, despite the circumstances of her less-than-illustrious birth? Or—
You create your own reality. Proactive thinking is the key.
Once again Lenore’s serene wisdom repeated a theme Ross had begun in his numerology talk. So if what they said was true, borne out by numerology and the tarot, she’d made this mess so she could work herself out of it? She’d come to earth this time as a result of Kyle and Patty’s summer fling, and now had returned to Harmony Falls to wedge herself between Ross and Rita? It was all so confusing, so difficult to comprehend, considering how she’d consciously avoided conflict all her life.
Because those on a “two” life path are peace seekers. Even as you navigate these storm-tossed seas, you’ll come out on the other side like that couple in the boat on the tarot card. Change your perspective and you change everything.
Angie blinked, again wondering about that voice even though she knew who it was. Sort of. It sounded so close, so real, yet she was totally alone on this rainy stretch of beach. Soaked to the bone, she had no inclination to go inside. Maybe it was a symbolic cleansing, a way to deal with difficult issues after another tumultuous day—
A baptism.
Angie exhaled. Was she to interpret her trial by emotional fire, followed by this wet walk on the beach, as a rebirth? Hadn’t Lenore said something about a beach being the portal between this world and the next? And here she was, being rechristened, cleansed by water from heaven while walking in the sea, the source of power Lenore and Ross called upon. She stood very still, trying to wrap her mind around so many new ideas.
Don’t think so much. If you struggle to be rational, logical, none of it makes sense.
Like anything made sense right now. Angie smiled anyway.
Feel your way through it, sweetheart. What you have always thought was real is no more valid than what you have imagined. What you’re creating in your soul is truly your world. Your future.
Angie swiped at her dripping face. She’d meandered closer to Oceanview, the street that separated the business district from the beach, but she was still slogging through some mighty deep stuff. As she turned toward the lodge, the breeze swirled around her.
Not yet. Give yourself time for release before you look through that white box. Those documents won’t answer the questions your heart will always ask. Who am I? and Why am I Here? will continue to evolve, just as you do. No matter what you find among Lenore’s keepsakes, keep looking!
So Angie stood there, aware that she’d need to change every stitch of her clothing after she sloshed up to her room. Aware that once she got back to the lodge, more questions awaited her than answers. Yet none of that really mattered much, did it?
Change your perspective, and you change everything.
She was hearing Ross repeat these words in that rich broadcast baritone that made her insides quiver. Profound words, but what did they have to do with her? After all, how had she created this Tower-card surprise? If Patty McCor-mick and Kyle Iverson had been more careful that summer of ’69, they could’ve prevented the shame of—
You were created in a moment of the most delicious, delightful kind of love, Angela. And you were handed over to parents who cherished you before they even saw you. All your life you’ve known love and acceptance. How do you suppose those two teenagers fared? Who got the sweeter deal when you showed up?
Angie swallowed hard. When Patty’s mom had whisked Patty to that cottage on Windswept, how much school had she missed? Had she graduated? Been shunned by her friends? Borne the disapproval of unforgiving parents? How had she dealt with the difficulties of having a forbidden baby—a baby she’d nurtured for nine months but couldn’t grow emotionally attached to?
And what about Kyle? Had news about a baby severed an already-difficult relationship with his folks? Had he nursed his resentment and lashed out? Had he lost some opportunities, maybe forfeited an architecture degree, by hiding his fear behind a cocky, rebellious nature?
Angie blinked. Had Patty go
ne on to marry, harboring a secret she could share with no one? Had Kyle loved her mother so fiercely he’d never shared a stable relationship with another woman? If Ross and Lenore’s spiritual beliefs held true, it followed that those young lovers had chosen their destinies just as she had, yet she’d dodged the bullets Patty McCormick and Kyle Iverson took at a crucial time in their lives. Sure, she’d dealt with Gregg’s harassment, but it was her own fault she’d tolerated it for so long.
“Okay, so, I’ll stop whining,” she murmured. “For now, anyway.”
She gazed at Harmony Lodge, which stood proud and stalwart, a comforting landmark in the shifting mist. She walked slowly back, allowing her anger to dissipate, consciously leaving her self-pity on the beach to be washed away by the waves. That box of documents dated back to a different era, and while it might provide information, it had mainly served as a safety net for Helen Cavanaugh and Lenore. Their issues then were not the same as hers now, no matter how much they’d loved her.
Keep that in mind! If you tie yourself to the past, you fetter your future. Choose a life without limits!
Angie’s mouth quirked as she removed her saturated shoes at the door. Was there no escaping Lenore’s mind-set? No pity party, even if she felt she deserved one?
She set aside that flicker of resentment, however, as she changed out of her soaked clothes in her little bathroom. Above her, someone started sobbing. His desolation reverberated in what must be his bathroom to seep through her ceiling and surround her with a desperate sense of loss. Angie’s eyes welled with tears. Was she becoming more sensitive, more intuitive, now that she’d been told of her powers? Or did she simply recognize the sound of deep grief after a gut-wrenching struggle?
She stepped out to her balcony, where she could hear Lenore’s voice more clearly: “Samantha’s beyond her pain now, Elliott. She’s passed through the valley of the shadow into the light.”
Angie’s lip quivered. Should she go upstairs and express her condolences?
“We’ve shared so many lifetimes, I’ve vowed to remain alone until I rejoin her,” he replied. “But…but I don’t know how I can go on, Lenore. Samantha was my life. My reason for being.”
Swiping at her eyes, Angie set aside her identity issues. Plenty of times she’d watched bereaved husbands struggle. It was usually more difficult for a man to lose his woman than for a widow to create a new life for herself. And even though Elliott James counseled clients about their past lives to lead them toward wellness, wholeness, and personal peace, it was a different thing altogether when a doctor became the patient.
“You’re exhausted, Elliott. You never left her side,” Lenore replied quietly. “Any time you feel desperate or dejected, I want you to stay here awhile, all right? I promised Sam I’d look after you. No matter how hopeless you feel, the last thing you should do is isolate yourself.”
Elliott let out a desperate sigh. “I feel so unprepared to live alone. I’ve never cooked, or—”
“Elena and I live to feed people, sweetheart. Come any time.”
“—so much as made my own coffee all these years.”
“We can fill you a carafe anytime you want, and then teach you how to measure the water and grounds, dear. Trust me, you’ll manage.”
Angie grinned through her tears. Dr. James sounded so endearingly clueless; she liked him even though they hadn’t met. Any man who had loved his wife so deeply—who intended to be hers forever, and in the way he believed in forever—was a refreshing departure from most guys she’d known. Relationships gone wrong, like those she and Ross were dealing with, seemed far more common.
The silence denoted a long hug. Footsteps creaked above.
After a quick glance in her dresser mirror, Angie started downstairs. She had no idea what she’d say—what comfort she could offer this suffering therapist—but it felt like the right thing to do.
As she passed through the parlor, where Elena’s crochet bag bulged with a ripple afghan in rich shades of cream and cinnamon, instinct steered her to Lenore’s kitchen. It seemed like a nervy thing for a guest to do, yet the fresh, gooey spirals on the counter confirmed her hunch. She found wax paper and made up a packet of Elena’s cinnamon rolls. Then she found the rest of those lemon raisin cookies in Lenore’s quaint old cookie jar. And as Elliott James stepped off the stairway toward his car in the lot, Angie opened the kitchen door.
“Dr. James, I…I know nothing can ever fill the void you feel now, but maybe these’ll help,” she said in a rush. “Some homemade comfort food to lift you over a rough spot. It’s sure helped me.”
He was younger than she’d imagined, or else good genes had done him a tremendous favor: Elliott James wore the face of a college kid, despite the stubble of several days without shaving and brown hair he’d raked into a haystack. His eyes shone with bright interest as he accepted the package. He had an air of keen intelligence; laugh lines around his thin lips suggested a wry wit. He appeared athletic—like a marathon runner—and despite his grief and exhaustion, he exuded a boyish sweetness.
“Thank you so much,” he murmured. “You’ll have to excuse me, but if we’ve met—”
“Angie Cavanaugh. Just got here a few days ago,” she explained with a smile. “Couldn’t help overhearing you with Lenore just now and…well, I’m sorry. My heart goes out to you.”
Elliott’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He nodded, then hurried toward a blue PT Cruiser at the far side of the lot.
“That was very sweet of you, dear. Thank you for extending our hospitality in a tangible, useful form.” Lenore stopped on the bottom step. With a tired smile, she waved at Elliott until his car disappeared behind the dense pines at the main road. “Elliott has a long row to hoe. Samantha was his life partner as well as his business partner. Kept his books and answered the phone so he could devote himself to his patients.”
“Which means he’ll return to work too soon, to escape the craziness of living alone, only to discover his work makes him crazy in a whole different way.”
“An astute observation.” Lenore eyed her with a speculative smile.
“Happened to Daddy.” Angie blinked rapidly: Elliott’s grief had brought her own to the surface again, even after all these months. “He couldn’t do laundry. Had never shopped for groceries or paid the bills. Hadn’t changed sheets or cleaned a bathroom.”
“Elliott will have to hire more than one person to do what Samantha accomplished so effortlessly. She was a woman of many gifts.” Lenore tucked her white hair behind one ear and glanced wistfully toward the ocean. “I’ll miss how her childlike laughter bubbled up. Her way of solving problems before most of us knew they even existed. She was a bright yellow butterfly, fluttering among us like sunshine with wings.”
For a few moments they stood together in silence. Angie sensed Samantha James would remain present in ways Elliott hadn’t considered. Working at a hospice had acquainted her with the earthly details of death and dying, but here in Harmony Falls she was learning how life and energy moved in a continuum. No beginning and no end. Simply a changing of form and name and circumstances between one human lifetime and the next.
Did that explain the voice she’d been hearing of late? Was it always her own inner guidance, or was she being guided by the soul of someone who’d become her unseen benefactor? A guardian angel?
Is it you, Mom?
The possibility came out of nowhere, and it made her smile.
Lenore squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve come to terms with some things. Congratulations on the way you handled the reunion with your father, Angela. Kyle’s a solid, good-hearted man. I felt wellsprings of love gushing up inside him as we talked. It’s the win-win situation I’ve prayed for all these years.”
“Seems like a really nice guy.” Goose bumps rushed up her back as she considered what had happened in that bungalow on Windswept today and nearly forty years ago. Such synchronicity boggled her mind. “It’s still strange, knowing Bill and Helen Cavanaugh weren�
��t my birth parents,” she admitted. “Yet when I consider what Kyle and Patty must have gone through, I have to agree: I’ve received only love from everyone. Never once have I felt second-best or an inconvenience, or—”
“You’re nothing less than a miracle, dear. That scared, daring couple in those photos attest to the power of love, and how it always prevails,” her mentor said softly. “If you’d like, I can tap into my psychic and online sources to contact Patty. Kyle would like that, but it’s your call.”
Angie closed her eyes. Did she dare hope to meet her real mother? What would she say? How much more emotional turmoil could she handle, after what she’d learned today, after a lifetime of believing that Bill and Helen Cavanaugh had given her life?
“There are no guarantees Patty will agree, of course.”
“Yeah,” Angie mused. “You hear plenty of stories about adoptees who get stung or shut out when they find their birth mothers.”
“The best thing you can do, dear, is to ask the universe to work with you as you beam love to your mother. Gaze at her photo, at that face so much like your own, as you send out positive thoughts. Gratitude…love…compassion. All those things you’d share with your mother.” Lenore’s face lit up with a subtle, rosy light. “This will be a major undertaking, Angela. A grand example of using the Law of Attraction to manifest what you truly want in your life.”
“Nothing like aiming for the upper ranks rather than acting like a rank amateur.”
“That’s the best way to approach this, yes,” Lenore agreed with a laugh. “Make yourself a magnet to attract all the abundance you deserve, dear. Use the principle, ‘ask, believe, receive’: if you ask for help finding your mother and then believe as though you’ve already been granted your request, you’ll align yourself with the highest powers of the universe.”
Law of Attraction Page 14
