by Dorie Graham
“Sure.” She gestured for him to follow her between two book-filled aisles. “Here you go.”
He glanced at the assortment of titles. “I want something that’s more informational, not a how-to. I’m studying alternative healing methods—what they are.”
“I see.” She peered at him through narrowed eyes. “This is for your personal use as opposed to research, right?”
Unease rippled through him. “Yes.”
Her face split into a smile. “You’ll be okay. Spirit gives us only what we can handle.”
He laughed, a small strangled sound. Right, he could handle a bad heart and the near certainty of a shortened life. He rubbed his chest as though doing so might relieve the constant pressure there. “Thanks. Can you make a recommendation?”
“Is there a particular type of healing you’re interested in?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been to countless doctors. Have been poked, prodded and peered into more times than I care to admit.” He stopped.
Why was he telling her this? He hadn’t breathed a word to his family. Yet something about the woman put him at ease, loosened his tongue. “A good friend suggested that I look into alternatives. She mentioned several things. I’m not sure where to start.”
“Hmm, let’s see.” She ran her fingers across the book spines, muttering to herself. “Why don’t you try this one?”
He took the book and read the title. “The Beginner’s Guide to Alternative Healing Methods. I’m certainly a beginner.”
He scanned the contents page. “Acupuncture—I tried that last week. Aromatherapy—think I need something with a little more kick to it. Cellular release, etheric pulse—never heard of them. Hypnotherapy, reflexology, reiki—already have an appointment for that. Tantric healing—what’s that?”
“Oh, tantra could possibly be the most powerful healing of all.”
“Really?” He flipped to the section indicated, then drew back at the picture of a couple entwined in a lovers’ embrace. “Are they talking about sexual healing?”
“Like I said, one of the most powerful forms of healing. It’s an ancient practice.”
He stared at her. “You have to be joking.”
“Not at all.”
“But…people actually practice this?”
Her eyebrows arched. “Some do. I think I could help you find a local practitioner.”
“That’s okay. I’ll pass.” Lifting the book, he said, “I’ll take this and read up on some of this other stuff. Maybe I’ll find something helpful.”
He tamped down on the frustration that threatened to overwhelm him. He was grasping at straws. What would his family say if they could see him now?
As he followed the woman to the register, he shook his head. His poor mother would be even more confused than he’d already made her when he’d given her the number for a handyman. Jack had tried to ignore her hurt look when he’d insisted he didn’t have time to help her any more this week, but the guilt of letting her down and lying to her weighed heavily.
“Is that going to be all for you?” the woman asked.
“That’s it.”
The issue wasn’t so much his time but his need to help his family become more independent. Not to be there for them was just as hard on Jack. He’d been holding them all together for so long, he had to fight the urge to run to the rescue any time his mother needed something fixed or his brother needed advice. They had to learn to stand on their own feet, though.
What would they do if he wasn’t around?
The woman handed him a bag with the book in it. “Receipt’s inside.”
“Thank you.”
“It would do you a world of good.”
“I’m sorry—what would?”
“Tantra.”
“Oh, that. I don’t know. Seems a little…personal.”
“Any kind of healing is going to be tailored for the healee. This type of thing is no different.”
“It’s hard to imagine hiring a professional for something like that.”
“That’s not necessarily how it works.”
“How does it work then?”
“If you’re lucky, you meet a healer and enter into a relationship with her where she imparts her gift to you.”
He shook his head. “That takes care of that. I haven’t had much luck lately—at least, not what you’d call good.”
“But if you met a woman with the healing touch, you’d be open to it?”
“Maybe, but that sounds like something I might need to work my way up to. I’m a novice at all this alternative stuff. I’ve tried some of it, like I said, and I’m open to other options. Maybe I should try some—” he consulted the book “—hypnotherapy, then perhaps some reflexology. Maybe after all that I’ll look at the tantra and see if it seems any more appealing.”
“All that takes time. Can you afford to wait?”
A chill shot up his spine. Both his father and grandfather had been struck down in their prime. “I think so.”
Her expression was so full of doubt that he had to resist the urge to ask her if she knew something about him he should know. How nuts was that? Of course she didn’t know anything. She didn’t know him from Jack Sprat.
She leaned across the counter. “Not many know this, but there was a family right here in Miami where all the women inherited the gift of sexual healing.”
Again not sure how to respond, he nodded and she said, “I only know because I met the mother and one of the daughters. Must have been at least ten years ago. The daughter was just fourteen at the time and she was this quiet thing. Nothing like her sisters, according to the mother, but there was something about that child. She came in for some feng shui classes—” she gestured to a book leaning against the register “—and she had this presence. I have my own gift. I can tell things about a person. I sensed this powerful energy about her, so I wasn’t surprised when the mother, Maggie McClellan, hinted at the family background. They all have it. There’s an aunt, too—she comes in from time to time—but you’re closer in age to the daughters.”
“But even if I was interested in pursuing…that, which I’m not saying I am, what are my chances of meeting any of them?”
Her shoulders shifted beneath her loose cotton dress. “The aunt was in recently, so I believe they’re still around. Can’t be all that many McClellans in the area. What was that young one’s name…Evelyn? No, Erin McClellan, that’s it. She was an excellent student of feng shui. I’d be willing to bet she’s practicing it somewhere.”
“You’re suggesting that I look up this woman, strike up a relationship, see if she’s interested in sharing her ‘gift’ with me?”
“Something like that.”
He stared at her a moment in disbelief. How could she think such an insane plan would work? Only a desperate man would embark on such a mission.
“One step at a time. Thank you for the book. You have a good day.” He headed for the door, but she stopped him halfway there.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t take too long with that one-step-at-a-time stuff.”
He gave her a half smile, then continued on his way. His chest tightened and he rubbed it. He had time. The one thing he wasn’t was a desperate man.
2
“YOU ARE A DESPERATE MAN.” Amanda Barnes, Jack’s good friend, power walked over a pile of seaweed and regarded him through narrowed eyes. Beyond her, white clouds drifted past a pale blue sky.
He inhaled a breath of salt-tinged air and lengthened his stride to keep pace with her, though the tightening in his chest increased with the effort. “I went there because you told me to go.”
“And you do everything I say?”
“Not normally.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not saying that I’m even thinking about taking this woman’s advice, but I thought you’d have an opinion on tantra.”
A wave crashed along the shore beside them and she swerved to avoid the spray, her short blond hair swinging. �
��I think tantra is a good thing. I don’t know much about it except that it involves different positions and meditations.”
“Can you see me approaching one of these women? What would I say? ‘Please excuse me, miss, but I’m looking for a good sexual healer. I was wondering, might you be available?”
“I’ll bet that you could find someone online who would schedule through drop-down menus.”
“Is that legal?”
She shrugged. “They’re not selling sex. They’re selling sexual healing. It’s not the same. I’m sure any decent lawyer could establish the difference. Besides, you don’t really want to find a healer online. You need to meet her in person. Where did this bookseller say you could find these women?”
“She said one of the daughters’ names is Erin McClellan and she’d be around twenty-four and she studied feng shui when she was younger. The woman thought Erin would be practicing it now and I could find her that way.”
“You know, I might have heard something about this. What was that last name again?”
“McClellan.”
“If this is what I’m thinking, they could be the real thing, truly gifted. Not just tantra, but something…more.”
“You’ve actually heard of them?” he asked.
“I have this friend from yoga class who knows a guy whose roommate’s brother may have dated a McClellan. Don’t know if she had any sisters or not, but how many sexual healers can there be?”
He pressed his hand to his chest. “I never said I was looking for one of them.”
“Why not?”
Stopping, he stared at her in disbelief. “You said I was desperate for mentioning it.”
She circled back beside him and her brown eyes took on a serious light. She nodded to where his hand pressed against his chest. “Your symptoms are getting worse. Look at you, we’ve hardly gone a quarter of a mile and you’re winded. Your best option at this point is surgery that may or may not fix your heart, if you survive it. I’d say you’re pretty desperate.”
He scowled and started walking at a slower pace. His cell phone sounded. Without stopping, he answered it. “Hello?”
“Jack, it’s Aunt Rose. Have you got a minute?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“The computer keeps locking up. Do you have time to look at it?”
“Did you ask Bobby?” he asked, slanting Amanda a glance.
“He ran a virus check and did a few other things, but it’s still not right. You know he can’t fix these things the way you can.”
“Okay, I’ll try to stop by sometime over the next few days. I’ll call you.” He said goodbye, ignoring Amanda’s look of censure.
“Jack, you gave in way too easy that time,” she chided.
“It’s just a computer.”
“You can’t continue to be everything to everybody. You’re so busy taking care of all of them, you’re not looking out for number one. You don’t need the extra pressure now. What happened to your plan to help them become less dependent on you?”
“I’m easing them into it. At least this time she called Bobby first. They’re trying.”
Amanda frowned. “Fine, but we still need to get you better.”
“Not to worry. There are plenty of other alternative-healing methods I haven’t tried. That book listed ones I don’t think you know about.”
“Did you schedule with that reiki master?”
“I went this morning,” he said.
“And?”
“It was very peaceful and relaxing, but I didn’t feel the earth move.”
“It’s not like that.”
“She said the reiki would continue to work for a while longer and that my energies were more balanced, whatever that means.” He glanced at her. “She said my heart chakra—some kind of energy-center thing—was closed or deunified or something and that was partly why I was having trouble.”
He spread his arms in appeal. “I don’t get all this energy talk. Maybe I should stick to conventional medicine. I have a physical defect in my arterial valve. How will balancing my energies or channeling some life force or whatever she was doing help that?”
“It’s all connected. What affects the emotional body impacts the physical body, as well as the etheric and so forth,” Amanda said.
He frowned at her. The woman was nuts. Why was he listening to her?
She raised her hands. “All I’m saying is that unresolved emotional issues manifest as physical illness.”
“Besides the fact that all that mumbo jumbo sounds a little flaky, this is more a defect than an illness.”
“Still, it’s worth a shot.”
“You think I should find one of these McClellan women and strike up a relationship?” he asked.
“It beats hiring a sexual healer off the Internet.”
A sail moved along the horizon. A gull screeched overhead. The hammering of his heart echoed in his ears. He stopped again. “You think it might work?”
She wiped a bead of perspiration from her forehead. “This woman healed my friend’s friend’s roommate’s brother of emphysema. His doctor took before-and-after X-rays of his lungs. It was unheard of. The whole thing was documented in some obscure medical journal. And he wasn’t the only one. Apparently she has a following of men she’s healed. They all adore her and each swears she’s healed them in one way or another.”
“You sure you didn’t read that in the Enquirer?”
Her eyebrows arched. “Yes, I’m sure. She healed him, Jack. You have to find her or one of her sisters, if that’s the case. Maybe we can Google the one who does feng shui.”
“Google her?”
“If she’s practicing feng shui, I’ll bet she has a Web site.”
“And what would I say to her if we were to find her?”
“You’d just introduce your charming self and let nature run its course.”
“I don’t know. The whole thing sounds ludicrous.”
“Hold on.” She pulled her flip phone from her pocket, opened it, then punched a few buttons.
“I’ll bet my friend George can get some information. He’s still good friends with— Oh, here’s his voice mail…Hey, George, it’s Amanda. Listen, I’m trying to get the scoop on the woman who healed that guy’s emphysema. Was her last name McClellan? You know the one who has the gift of sexual healing? Can you talk to your friend and see if he can get an update on her and her family from his roommate’s brother? I was hoping you could help me locate her or one of her sisters if she has any. Okay, so call me when you have something. Thanks, I owe you.”
She hung up and smiled at him. “There, we’ll have you all set in no time.”
A feeling of apprehension settled over him. God, he was a desperate man.
SUNLIGHT FELL THROUGH a skylight onto Erin’s desk in her design studio. She sighed and flipped through the stack of invoices she’d been ignoring for the past week. There was no more putting it off. It was time to balance her accounts.
A whisper of movement sounded and she started, then stared. A blond stranger stepped into the sunlight spilling around her desk. He was tall and lean, his eyes dark and intense.
Her heart pounded. “Goodness, you scared me.”
He gestured toward the front. “Oh, sorry. The bell jingled, but you must not have heard.” Moving forward, he extended his hand. “I’m Jack Langston and I’m guessing you’re Erin McClellan.”
She rose, taking his hand as she moved around the desk. A shock of warmth spread through her at the contact. “Yes, I’m Erin. Guess I’ve been a little too absorbed in balancing my accounts. Or at least trying to.” She laughed, the sound seeming strained to her own ears.
He seemed to fill the splash of sunlight as though he was part of it—an angel sent to taunt her with his beauty. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Langston.”
“The pleasure’s mine. Please call me Jack. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have? Then do you mind if I ask who referred you?”
“I didn’t catch her name. She owns a little shop down in Coconut Grove. It’s called the Emperor’s Attic.”
“The Emperor’s Attic?” Unease gripped her.
“I believe she was the owner. She’s certainly worked there a long time. She spoke highly of you…and your family.”
“My family? What did she say about my family?” Her mind raced. She hadn’t been there in ages, but her unconventional relatives no doubt still frequented the metaphysical bookstore.
Jack straightened. “Mostly she talked about how well known you are for your work with feng shui.”
“But you said she talked about my family.” A faint roaring sounded in her ears. She tried to breathe, but it felt as if a weight pressed her chest.
“Isn’t this a family business?”
“No, this is my interior-design business. I don’t work with feng shui anymore.” A myriad of emotions swamped her. She leaned against her desk to steady herself. What was wrong with her?
“You don’t?” He frowned. “Why not?”
“I’ve decided to pursue a more mainstream clientele.”
“Mainstream?” A note of disbelief colored his voice.
“Mr. Langston, I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me or my family, but I assure you I run a very respectable business here.” Who was this man to question her in this way?
“I don’t doubt that, Ms. McClellan, but I don’t see anything disrespectable about feng shui. I’m no expert, but it seems quite a good number of upstanding citizens swear by it.”
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. I have simply chosen not to practice that type of design anymore. I find my business has picked up significantly since I decided to go with the more conventional mode of interior design.”
“But you would take on a job for a paying client if he wanted you to use your knowledge of feng shui?” He moved a step closer.
The tumult of emotions clamored inside her. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. He caused this tangle of feelings. Was this the empathic nature her family spoke of?
