Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One

by Serene Conneeley

  Towards the end of the day, Andre offered to do a reading on someone in the class as a demonstration of his skills and methods, and of course he chose Violet. As she stood up from her desk and walked towards him, overjoyed to have been picked, Mike gritted his teeth. And when Andre took Violet’s hands then began the reading by saying that new love was coming into her life, it looked like Mike was going to throw up, or punch the guy in the face. Just quietly, she voted for punching him in his sanctimonious mouth.

  “Violet, can I call you that?” the teacher began, voice smooth as honey and saccharine sweet. “You are such a wonderful person, already so far advanced along your spiritual path, and so much wiser than your years. I sense you’ve been in a relationship for some time, but it is not fulfilling you,” he continued, with a sly sideways glance at Mike.

  “But I see a grand love coming into your life – you may have just met him – and he will challenge you and inspire you and teach you, and push you to open your heart in new ways. You are too special to settle for ordinary, in life or in love. This new man will be older than you, mature, wise, and he is the only one who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

  Now Beth thought she would throw up, and she could tell Mike was getting more upset by the minute.

  “And once you meet this man, your relationship up until this point will seem a poor and pale imitation in comparison, consigned to the scrap heap of childhood friendships and entanglements. He is not worthy of you – you need someone special, someone amazing, someone who can see your true essence, as a being of pure love and light, and allow you to reveal all of your magnificent potential.”

  Mike’s face was red and angry, and Beth longed to comfort him, while also feeling hurt herself. Andrew had said all of this to her in France, almost word for word. Not the comments so clearly directed at Mike, dismissing Violet’s actual relationship, but the whole “you’re so advanced spiritually” thing, and the “you’re too special for ordinary, you need someone – like me – who’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved” line. She felt so stupid that she’d fallen for it, and was horrified to see that Violet was succumbing too.

  Of course all of that was true – but it was true for every single person. Everyone deserves love, and everyone is special. But how could he lie to Violet like that about Mike? And, even more ethically and morally wrong, make it sound like he was the new love? Twist everything around under the guise of a psychic reading, so Violet would believe that what he said was true, and inevitable.

  Before today, Violet would have proudly told anyone who asked just how much she loved Mike, and how much she was looking forward to starting her life with him as soon as they left school. That was all true, and real. Yet now it seemed like she’d forgotten it, and was lost in an alternate reality, staring up at Andre with love-sick eyes, basking in his attention in a way that turned Beth’s stomach.

  God, had she been like that when she’d met him? Had she looked so pathetic? Somehow she had to convince Violet to tone down her obvious admiration, because Mike looked heartbroken. And that was the saddest thing of all.

  * * * * *

  It was quiet in the car on the way home, each of them lost in thought. Mike’s silence was prickly, as he seethed in the driver’s seat, while Violet was happily looking out her window, daydreaming about the reading she’d been given and totally oblivious to his anger. Beth sat in the back, trying to be unobtrusive, but she could sense the strain, and felt so uncomfortable – not just because of the undercurrent between her two friends, but because seeing Andrew had really thrown her. All her feelings of unworthiness and confusion were flooding back. He’d helped her work through some of her insecurities, made her feel worthy after years of emotional abuse at her mother’s hands. But if their relationship hadn’t been real, where did that leave her?

  She felt herself diminishing under the weight of the memories, under the weight of how he’d made her feel before – and the dangerous path that learning his love had been a lie was sending her down now. Bitterness rose in her, and she coughed, almost choking on it. They were stopped at a give way sign, and Mike turned to her, concern in his eyes.

  “Are you all right Beth?” His voice was gentle, and tender, and his sweetness soothed her heart a little.

  “Sorry, I’ll be fine,” she said, embarrassed to be breaking into his thoughts, and hoping they would soon be back in the village so she could escape this tension-filled car.

  “What did you think of today?” he asked.

  “It was okay,” she replied reluctantly. “He got a few things wrong though, and he seemed to rely only on what he claimed he could see of the future – which no one can verify yet – rather than revealing anything from our pasts that we could have judged him on. But I guess it will get more detailed as the course progresses. Why, what did you think?”

  Mike shrugged, and seemed hesitant to speak too. “I guess you’re right. I wasn’t overly impressed to be honest, although I wasn’t sure why. But the no verification thing was probably a big part of it,” he said, grasping at the excuse she’d given him.

  “He was amazing!” Violet burst out, and they stared at her in consternation. “His reading for me was incredible, and so accurate. How awesome, that he could see all that about me!”

  Beth paled. Was she referring to that whole “you’ll meet your great love soon” bit? The bit that totally ignored Mike’s presence in her life, and made it sound like she was happily single right now? And if she didn’t mean that, what was she focusing on? The old “you’re the most spiritually advanced person in the room” line? The very same line she’d fallen for when Andrew had said it to her.

  * * * * *

  In an instant she was transported back to the festival in the French countryside where she’d met him, watching a band, dancing in the weak winter sunshine, before one of her companions dragged her into a tent for a mini workshop on shamanism. A man stood in the centre of a small circle of people, sharing his story, and teaching them methods to centre themselves and go within, then off on an inner journey.

  Each time he caught her eye, it felt like he was staring into her soul, reaching inside her and holding her heart in his hands – which she wasn’t sure she liked. Yet when he started winding up the talk and gestured to her to stay behind, she did. Nervously she waited until everyone else had left, half terrified, half excited, by the thought of speaking to him alone.

  He took her hand and drew her over to the corner of the now-empty tent, then settled on a pile of cushions, pulling her down with him. Without saying a word, he took both her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, and deep inside her. Blushing, she tried to figure out why he was staring at her so intently, tried to understand what he wanted from her, and why he’d chosen her.

  “Ma cherie, vous êtes si belle,” he whispered, and although her French still wasn’t great, she knew it was a compliment from the way he was looking at her, and the way his hold on her hands tightened, his thumbs stroking the palms of her hands, his eyes greedily drinking her in. She blushed again, then whispered her thanks, and he reached out his hand to her, holding her chin and lifting her face until she was falling into the depths of his eyes too.

  “You are so beautiful bella,” he repeated, in English this time, hand stroking her cheek, then moving down to caress her neck, then her shoulder. “And so spiritual, so illuminated. You have no idea how many people I meet at these things – doubters, sceptics, and those who think they know everything after listening to a two-hour presentation,” he said with a sigh.

  “But you, I can see deep into your soul, and it is luminous. Your heart beats in time with mine, and I can feel your hand inside me, holding it safe,” he continued, taking her left hand and holding it to his chest, positioning it so that she felt his heart beating, felt his chest muscles rippling, felt the heat of his skin as it pulsed beneath her palm.

  With his other hand he reached over and touched her heart, and it sped up instantly – part nerve
s, part anticipation, part hope. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, and she almost groaned with the desire building in her for him to do just that. Then she shook her head. Why would this amazing healer, this acclaimed teacher, want to kiss her? She had to get a grip.

  But then he shocked her by leaning in towards her, his eyes flashing with something she couldn’t quite place, before all thought was driven from her head by the feel of his lips on hers. It felt like she was falling, dangerously fast, but she didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to land. She had no idea why he was kissing her, but she didn’t care. In that moment she felt desired, she felt wanted, she felt special, and it soothed the part of her that still yearned for her mother’s acceptance, and her father’s attention, and her sister’s friendship.

  They kissed for what felt like hours, and each time someone came in to try to speak to him, he told them in no uncertain terms to leave. Later he asked if she was hungry, and when she sheepishly nodded, he opened a basket and fed her strawberries, and cheese, and glasses and glasses of wine. And the whole time he kept up his flattery, kept telling her how special she was, before starting to kiss her all over again.

  Finally a surly woman came in, and refused to leave. After a scathing look in Beth’s direction, she told Andrew he had a performance on the main stage he couldn’t skip, then an interview with a TV show that would screen nationally. Regretfully he stood up, then he leaned back down and whispered in her ear. “Ma cherie, please don’t leave me. I will be back soon, I promise, and I have big plans for you.” Then he kissed her, more passionately than she’d ever been kissed, and hurried away.

  For a while she floated, ecstatic, her mind drifting over all the things he’d said to her, over the way his lips had felt on hers. But when she realised that every button of her shirt was undone, she was horrified. Desperately she tried to remember him doing that, but it was all a little hazy. No wonder that woman had given her such a filthy look. What was she doing here, with a man she didn’t know, a man who hadn’t even asked her what her name was?

  Yet the thought of leaving filled her with sadness and regret. She felt bereft at the idea of not seeing him again. Then she recalled the sensation of his lips on her lips, on her neck, on her shoulder, then slowly moving further down... And again she heard his voice in her ear, telling her she was beautiful, she was desirable, she was smart and spiritual and special. And so she stayed, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

  When she woke up it was dark, and she was wrapped in his arms, their breathing in sync, their skin warm against each other’s where they touched. Her shirt was off, but her worry about that dissolved under his kisses, dissolved into nothing as he held her close and whispered sweet everythings in her ear. She shivered when he took her hand and placed it on his bare chest, and blushed, but then she gave herself over to the feeling of being in his arms. And when he placed his hand on her bare chest, she moaned with lust and longing.

  The next morning, an icy chill on her naked flesh woke her from a dream filled with raw passion, heat, and sexual abandon – which made it even worse when she realised that not only was she freezing cold, but she was alone. Tears of humiliation welled in her eyes, and she clasped the blanket they’d been lying on around herself as she desperately searched for her clothes. She was buttoning up her shirt when she saw movement at the doorway, and she froze, mortified that someone would see her here like this, witness her shame.

  And yet… it was him. He’d returned, and he had a bowl of fruit salad in one hand and two mugs of coffee in the other.

  “Ma cherie, what are you doing?”

  Shrugging and squirming with embarrassment, she finished doing up her shirt then ran her fingers through her hair, trying to look presentable. But it wasn’t necessary. He walked straight over, handed her a coffee, stroked her hair – then ripped off her shirt and pulled her into his arms again. It was hours before they got around to eating any of the fruit or drinking the now icy coffee, and another day until he let her get dressed, in one of his shirts, since every button on hers was now missing.

  And once they discovered they both lived in Paris, their passionate romance began. Two weeks after they’d met he finally asked what her name was, although he continued calling her ma cherie, which she liked. And while the memories of how much of their time together she’d spent naked made her squirm now, she had to admit that he’d helped her deal with her relationship with her parents, and even heal a little from the pain. It was this process that had given her the courage to accept her sister’s wedding invitation, and believe she could cope with being back home for more than a month.

  He had been so sympathetic when he’d finally coaxed her story out of her. “Oh, ma cherie, you’ve been so terribly misunderstood by those who should see you the best and most clearly, who should see your true self and appreciate all of your amazing qualities. I’m so sorry that you have suffered this, but you have to know how wrong they are. And how sorry I feel for them, because they have lost you. That would be an unbearable loss for me, I promise you.”

  * * * * *

  “Beth!”

  The voice sounded worried, and she turned towards it. Oops! She was in the car with Mike and Violet, and now they were both peering at her, concern in their eyes. “Are you okay?” Mike asked, voice soft. He was such a kind man, it hurt her heart to look at him. Why did he have to be in love with Violet, who right now looked like she’d run off with Andrew if given half a chance?

  “Sorry guys, I’ll be fine, I guess the course just brought up some bad memories.” She tried to laugh at the irony. It certainly had, but it wasn’t the subject matter that had upset her, it was the supposedly wonderful teacher and the mystery of his disappearance from her life, and the reappearance here now, with what seemed to be intentions towards Violet.

  She just couldn’t get her head around it all. He’d seemed to genuinely care about her – had professed his love, and asked her to move in with him – although clearly that was no longer the case. But if he didn’t feel that, why had he come back that first morning? Why had he pursued her when she returned to Paris? Why had he worked so hard to help her with her mother issues? Why had he spent so long convincing her that he loved her?

  Memories and questions swirled in her mind, and it took her a moment to notice they’d pulled up outside her house. When Mike opened the car door for her she jumped, startled, then took his hand gratefully as he helped her out.

  He gave her a hug. “Thanks so much for coming with us today, and I hope you’ll be okay,” he said, voice so kind and genuine that she almost cried. “And Beth, if you ever want to talk, or whatever, just let me know, okay?”

  Smiling, she nodded at him, then leaned in to say goodnight to Violet. Her friend still had a silly grin on her face, but she waved to her and called out a farewell. Mike walked her up to her front door – he was so polite! – kissed her on the cheek, then hurried back to the car and drove off.

  The verandah light switched on as she put her key in the lock, and she noticed the front room curtains twitch, before the door was pulled open to reveal her mother standing there in the harshness of the hall light. Oddly though, she looked happy.

  “So, I see you are making an effort to impress Michael,” she crowed, and there was a strange pride in her voice. “When will you see him again? Are you dating him yet?”

  Shoulders slumping with frustration and exhaustion, Beth followed her mother inside and closed the door, trapping herself under the same roof as the monster for another night.

  “We’re not dating Mother. I told you, he’s with Violet. But we are friends, and we have been spending lots of time together, the three of us, and will continue to do so. They’re both really lovely, and I value their friendship.”

  “Oh Elizabeth,” Patricia spat, disappointment mingling with anger in her voice. “When will you learn? You have to go after what you want. You have to make things happen. Violet is just his high school girlfriend, but she’s a flighty one tha
t girl. She won’t be content to stick around here with him, she’ll leave the minute she can, and go off and see the world.”

  Her tone was disparaging, and Beth wanted to defend her friend, and convince her mother that she was wrong about her. And yet, was she so wrong? Until tonight, she would have defended Mike and Violet’s love to anyone – it was the exact kind of relationship she so badly wanted for herself. And she would have put money on the wedding vows, which they planned to make once school finished, lasting forever.

  But now she wasn’t so sure. Seeing Violet’s head being turned by Andrew tonight had introduced a sliver of doubt to her mind, and made her worried for Mike and the love he clearly had for her. A memory came back to her, of the night she’d met Violet at her first ritual, and the way her face had lit up whenever she spoke of Mike. Would it still do that now?

  Not that she would reveal any of these doubts to her mother, or admit that there could be any truth to her nasty assumptions. Patricia traded in misery and innuendo, and she would not be a party to that, especially not when it involved her friends.

  “Goodnight Mother,” she sighed, and hurried upstairs. But as she lay in bed that night, her mind whirled with possibility. She wanted someone to look at her the way Mike looked at Violet, to love, respect and care for her the way Mike so obviously did for his beloved.

  God, it was tempting to encourage her friend to focus on the teacher who’d so enchanted her, so that she could have Mike, yet she knew that was crazy. She couldn’t make someone who loved someone else fall for her, and even if she could, she wouldn’t want to. Mike loved Violet, and if she was as much their friend as she’d just said she was – as she hoped she was, as she wanted to be – she would convince Violet not to be swept off her feet by the mysterious, and to appreciate the wonderful that was already right by her side…

  * * * * *

  Her decision and her resolve were tested the very next morning though, when Violet knocked on her door, hours before she was supposed to see her. The three of them had planned to meet at Violet’s place that afternoon to practise their tarot reading, since Rose had so many different decks they could work with, yet here she was, eyes sparkling and skin flushed with excitement, imploring her to sit down and chat with her before Mike joined them. She was so buoyant and excited that she didn’t notice Beth’s reticence, or her discomfort. She didn’t even notice Patricia hovering in the background with her ready air of disapproval.