Touch of Danger (Three Worlds)

by Strickland, Carol A.

  She shook her head but he could feel it inside her.

  “I'm here,” he said. “The thought of leaving has never entered my mind. It never will.”

  Time for making her see her own truth. “Just tell me one thing, Lina, and I won't ask again until you want me to.”

  She brushed her hair back as she raised her head, her liquid green eyes gazing down into his. “What?”

  “Will you let me love you forever? With or without marriage?”

  She was silent at that. He could see the puzzlement in her own eyes as she searched her soul.

  “That's it, isn't it?”

  “It's… It's…”

  “That's the real reason why you don't want to marry me. You have a hard time accepting love.” He jumped up and slammed his right fist into the opposite palm. “Damn, I want to take those parents of yours and throttle them! How could they have done this to you?”

  She looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

  He searched for the proper words. “You're the most loving person I've ever known. You give and give, and you keep saying 'Let me help.' But there's something missing.”

  “What?”

  He sighed and studied her face to see how she'd take this. Then he sat back next to her so he wouldn't be towering over her. That might frighten her. Over the years he'd learned from the best psychiatrists.

  “I've been thinking, chérie. You're afraid to be touched. I know, I don't count. But I've seen you now with others, and I see how you're still avoiding it. You aren't afraid to touch someone when you're healing them. You're giving love then. But when the chance that it will be reciprocated comes along, when someone wants to touch you, you can't do it.

  “And then that other time. When you said love was like a knife in your heart— I think you meant that almost literally, whether you were conscious of it or not.”

  “Lon—”

  “You've got a knife in your heart, kitten, and it stops the flow of love from others. What is it, you don't think you're worthy of being loved? Is that what it all boils down to?”

  She was silent for a few moments. “I've always known something was wrong. I was too embarrassed to let some other healer try this problem. Look. I'm closing up just talking about it.” She tried to unroll from her hunched position.

  “Chérie, you can tell me anything.”

  “Don't you see? I can feel all this love coming from you and it's like I'm standing in the middle of a flowing river… I am a rock, I am an island…”

  Her words came in fits and starts as she tried to explain. “That night when we first made love—it was an absolute miracle that I got to that point. I can't believe it happened still. To get beyond this it would take another miracle, and miracles just don't happen that often, not in this world. I'm stuck. Oh, Lon, you deserve someone who can take that love so you won't be wasting it. Someone who's worthy of you. I'm a hopeless case.”

  Lon smiled and pulled her to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. “Mon petit chou,” he said, “I am reminded of a great coach who once told me that to accomplish my goal I had to start out and do a little at a time, see how it went, and go from there. Sometimes miracles happen in small steps. Sometimes miracles happen because people really work for them.” Miracles had come true for them. They would again.

  “So, coach, what do I do?” Her voice was muffled against him.

  “As I recall, first we set a goal.”

  They both recalled their previous goal, which had to do with a literal use of the f-word. “And how would we phrase it? Politely, that is.”

  “Hmm. D'accord, I've got it. We're going to fix you up so that you can accept love with the same passion that you give it so well. To the point where, if I should ask, 'Carolina O'Kelly, will you marry me?' you would answer,” and he pitched his voice to a falsetto, “'Yes, Londo Rand, even unto eternity.'“ He hoped she'd chuckle and release her tension.

  But she was silent for a moment before she quietly said, “That sounds perfect.”

  His heart stopped for an enchanted moment. “Bon. D'accord, just tell me where to begin.”

  “I was hoping you'd have some ideas about that, coach.” She leaned back to look up anxiously at him.

  “Oh. Ah. I could wake a few psychiatrists I know, but you're good with all this metaphysical stuff. Let's start there, eh. How about these chakras that you're always talking about? Are any of them involved?”

  “Chakras.” Lina let out a breath and frowned in thought. “The obvious one is the heart chakra, but the one underneath it, the solar plexus chakra, deals with interactions with people. I've been trying to work on them for years but maybe I'm too close to the problem.” She paused. “Or…”

  “Or what?”

  She looked puzzled as she bit gently on a knuckle. “You remember when we first did the double-loop? You went too deep. What happened? What did you experience?”

  Lon thought. “Voyons. I can't remember. Do you mind? Reenact the crime?” He slipped one shoulder of Lina's robe down and paused, waiting for her reaction.

  “You beast. I'll just bet you can't remember. Doctor's orders.”

  “Doctor's orders. I really can't; this is strictly scientific method. Right?”

  “Oh, all right.” She started to shrug out of her robe, but he reached over and slid it off her shoulders, down to her waist, leaving those magnificent breasts bare. She pulled her arms slowly out of the sleeves and he watched the jiggly results with a smile. Lifting her chin, he gave her a quick kiss. Then he ran his hand gently across one bandaged shoulder, down to cup a warm breast, his thumb barely grazing the nipple.

  “I believe it had been about here.” A lot of things had started from this position. His imagination—and his body—lurched into high gear and it took real effort to stanch it.

  “Mm, scientific method.” She sighed in appreciation of his approach, then caught herself. “Wait. Science. Blackboards and calculus. Read chapter seven. Cold desks. Final exams.” She licked her lips and set her jaw determinedly. “Okay, do it.”

  He let his mind sink into her skin, something so natural now he wondered why he'd ever had trouble with the technique. He felt what she was feeling from his fingers as he massaged and squeezed gently. Then he sank deeper to sense the emotions within.

  She breathed shallowly. On the surface she was holding back so neither would get too excited—doctor's orders.

  **Easy, Lon.**

  He tried to merge with her to feel her emotions instead of diving deeper. Just expand himself inside her like a breeze filling a sail. Almost like sharing minds, but not quite. Feeling what she felt…

  **Try a higher vibration.**

  **Vibration?**

  **Hum a note, then hum a third or a fifth higher. Pay attention to it.**

  It sounded silly, but she was the expert in these things. He tried a note, then raised it a third, then a fifth. Was anything happening? It seemed so. It seemed now like he could almost feel something, almost experience…something. Just out of reach.

  **Higher, if you can.**

  He thought of the two chakra centers, so close to where his hand massaged, and hummed the octave and then another third higher than before as he tried to delve deeper inside her.

  This was eerie. Maybe he'd gone too far. A sudden, cold fear clenched him that he would experiment on Lina this way. In his ignorance he might hurt her—

  Wait, that fear wasn't his, though it almost felt like it was. She must be the one who was afraid. What else did he feel that wasn't himself? Cautiously, Londo tasted his own emotions to get a bearing.

  Without warning, savage self-hatred crashed upon him. It ripped through and tore at his very being. It smothered him in its wash as he fought against drowning. Shame, disgust directed inward. Not good enough! Separated from the rest of the world because he was a lowly creature, filled with faults he could never make up for. Ugly! Absolutely unlovable!

  Moments illuminated for him, lightn
ing flashes of the past. His parents pushing him away, never holding, never telling him they loved him, never the small touches that bring a family together. Mom told him that he had to love Dad, but Dad punished him every time he tried to show him that love.

  Home was filled with sarcasm and the pointing out of shortcomings. Never rewarding the good things, but always dwelling on the bad. An overabundance of painful accidents. Locked up to consider the sin of being himself.

  He scared them, he could tell. They couldn't force him into their mold. Mom was terrified for him, telling him to hide, hide. This is wrong, don't let your father find out. Don't do it; it's bad. Be normal! Be miserable like us.

  And the more they feared him, the more judgmental they became, the more Dad punished, the more Mom pulled away. But he couldn't bring himself to be what they wanted him to be. He told himself over and over that he was normal, but he wasn't.

  Hide away from them. Learn that others would always betray him in the end. Love equaled betrayal. Love hurt. Don't reach for love. Don't touch love and you won't get hurt.

  It made him independent, maybe even strong, but hollow inside.

  There came a time of darkness, of total singularity, shut away from the world. Hell on a cold concrete basement floor lying forever in the dark. A leg badly broken and no one else caring about it.

  There in that basement the entire universe separated into a level higher than where he lay. Everything in it was equal but he crawled below, always apart. That separation was made as clear to him as death.

  What had he/she been, ten? Younger? A choice: reconnect or die. Reconnect! Just don't allow yourself to be touched. Keep yourself separate from the rest, hiding on that lower level. But don't let it lower to death where Hell might be permanent.

  Something changed slightly for the better in the family then that Londo couldn't catch, but he'd already jumped to a new path. He'd distanced himself from the world, taken his two steps back from it. He couldn't touch anything physically, but he needed to keep some kind of connection.

  So he touched touched people with love, not flesh.

  Now as he lay drifting on the waves of Lina's mind, Lon sensed things that amazed him: Past life echoes—he was certain that that was what they were—repeated the idea that it wasn't safe to receive love.

  The little girl in Ireland, the youngest of a large family, desperately loving her mother but abandoned to die during the Potato Famine.

  The Egyptian general holding the cold, dead body of his eight-year-old son in his arms. Three sons born and loved, now three sons dead. Grieving with his last ounce of strength.

  The African tribesman whose wife criticized his every waking moment, humiliating him in front of the entire village until he volunteered to lead a hunt for a savage leopard. It was a virtual suicide that would make her proud of him and then sorry for the things she had said about him, wouldn't it?

  Lon realized that there were thousands of years of the same tape running in Lina: fear the world, don't trust it. Don't let it love you; you're unlovable anyway. Love hurts. Love betrays.

  He'd gotten in too deep. Now he struggled to come up for air. He needed to separate from her. Rising terror made the breath catch in his chest. He wasn't good enough at these mind games to handle all this. Where was he? How could he get out?

  But wait. Was that him thinking that, or just him soaking up all these negative energies?

  **Lina,** he announced to all that he felt coming from her, including those past lives, **you are a wonderful woman. Just think: you've been through all this and yet you've given so much to the world! How many people have you helped? How have you turned my life upside down?

  **You don't have to be alone anymore. I love you, Carolina, and it's time you learned how to love yourself. If you don't love yourself, who will? I will. I love you.**

  A pink rose blossomed in the darkness in front of him. It enveloped him with love as its sweet perfume drifted around him like a cloud. **I love you, Londo,** he heard. But the petals formed a barrier around him. She still wouldn't accept his love.

  Wait—one petal unfolded, creating a break in the wall. What did it mean?

  **Anthropomorphize,** a faint, unfamiliar voice whispered to him. He imagined Lina there, the petal draped around her like a sari.

  **If you love me, I will pay the debt with love,** she told him. **But please, it must stop. If I lose myself in you without limit, you'll betray me. You'll hurt me.**

  **I will never betray you. Can't you receive something without feeling obligated?**

  **You pay for what you get,** she replied. **Cash up front and no warranty. If you ask for too much, the universe will punish you. That's how the world works.**

  **No it's not. Loving should be voluntary, not an obligation. It should be done with joy, not guilt and embarrassment.**

  **I can't do that. Haven't I gone far enough already? It will destroy me if I try more. I don't want to die! No!** The sari'd girl covered her face with her hands. That blasted petal began to grow again, reforming the wall between the two of them.

  **Yes you can!** Lon batted at the petals but they stood fast. **You won't get hurt—I'll never ever hurt you, love. I promise you. Lina!**

  **Lon.** He heard his Lina call him. **Lon, you may have gone too deep. I can't reach you well. Come back.**

  Chapter 23

  Lina told him, **Lower your vibration. Think of your body, think of your feet.**

  So close, but this time he knew she was right. He hummed to himself, lower and lower, and tried to feel his body around himself again. He was coalescing, focusing to solidity. Almost back… His body gave a jerk and he opened his eyes to see Lina crouched and holding his feet. She'd put the robe back on.

  “Good, you got back all right. I'm just grounding you. A little more…”

  The room swayed around him, but he was here. She got up to sit next to him on the couch, rubbed his hands, and that helped too.

  “Lina, it was incroyable. There were even past lives there. And your childhood.”

  She was terribly embarrassed and tried to cover it up by talking briskly. “I can imagine. Aren't I a mess? Did you run into the Egyptian general? I thought I sensed him. I've been working on him a lot lately.”

  “Yes, he was there. And you aren't a mess, pas du tout, chérie. You've been hurt. Let me help. You've had some bad experiences that programmed you to not being able to accept love without feeling guilt or embarrassment.”

  She stopped rubbing his hands for a moment. “Guilt or embarrassment. That's new.”

  “Bon. But in turn it's forced you to be more loving toward the world, and that's your greatest gift. That's why I love you, Lina. It's all that love inside you.”

  Lina's eyes filled with tears. He put his arms around her and held her close.

  “Thank you, Lon. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”

  “Someone should have said it a long time ago. It's their fault they didn't, not yours.”

  “So did you find anything that we can follow up on?”

  He thought and then that crooked smile came to his face. His eyes narrowed with deviltry. He jumped up, scooping her into his arms as if she were a feather.

  She let out a laughing screech. “Londo, what in the world—?”

  He laughed right back at her and carried her to the bedroom. “I have an idea.”

  “Londo— Lon, doctor's orders!”

  He dropped her on the bed and she bounced, still laughing. He bounced in right next to her.

  “'For a while,' quote unquote, and we have faithfully fulfilled the prescription,” he declared. “Hang on, un moment.” He touched his ring. “Wiley?”

  “Uff.” Had he awakened him? Good. “Here, Londo. Are you all right? What's up?”

  “Reporting in: no sex yet. Rand out.” Lon chuckled with the moment as communications cut off. “That was just for the record,” he explained to Lina.

  Now he sat on his knees getting serious again while sh
e lay there, propped on an elbow. “The problem that I saw just then was that you're operating on a give-and-receive process in addition to low self-esteem. If someone gives you something, you feel the obligation or guilt to give them something in return.

  “You can't accept a gift at face value without feeling the need to do an equal whatever in return. So you begin to devalue what you've been given. You think that since it was given to lowly little you, it can't be valuable. It must be throw-offs.”

  He pointed sternly at her. “Believe me, what I'm offering you is not a throw-off. It's not second-hand. It's real, it's primo, and it's going to last forever.”

  She flushed pure rose and scrunched her head between her shoulders.

  “That's another thing,” Lon told her. “Love makes you feel guilty and embarrassed. Those aren't feelings you want to experience. Therefore love that's offered to you can't be worth much.”

  “Huh. That's pretty deep. Absolutely true, but deep too. I'm impressed.”

  “Be quiet.” He slapped the mattress and she jumped. “Ah, now you know what it's like to be on the other side of the psychiatrist's couch.

  “Donc,” he continued, “the lesson is to be able to accept something without feeling the need to do something else in return, and also to accept that thing with positive feelings. Comprendu?”

  “Oookay…”

  “I want you to be happy when you accept my love. I don't want you to think that yes, you're happy now but I'm going to dump you any day, so you get to wallow now in the sadness that you're going to go through then. I'm not leaving you, Lie.”

  She looked at him, her disbelief stamped on her face.

  “No. Never. I will camp in your backyard. I'll follow you to work. I'll loiter outside the ladies room when you go in.”

  “There are laws against that.”

  “Like any cop's going to try to go up against me.” That crooked grin dawned on Londo's face and Lina's pulse raced to see it. “But I won't have to do that. I'm starting your training right here, right now. What I'm going to do for you is to give you a night of pleasure.”