by Skye Jordan
“Would you like a job at the marina this summer?” I ask her.
“What?” Her attention swings back. She sniffles and blinks the tears away. “I didn’t think I was old enough for a job.”
“Aren’t you fifteen?”
“Don’t you have to be sixteen?” she asks.
“I’m pretty sure all high schools offer some kind of work experience program. You’ll have a bunch of rules to follow, but you’ll legally be able to work. Maybe,” I say drawing out the word, “if you’re really nice to your detention teacher, he or she will let you go see the guidance counselor and you can ask him or her about it.”
Her eyes brighten, and her expression opens. “What kind of job could I do at the marina?”
“Oh, wow, there are so many places for you to work—the marina itself, the resort side of things, the market, the restaurant. You could help me with events.” I give her hand a squeeze. “First things first, talk to your counselor.”
“Okay, I will. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sweetie.”
Once she jumps out, I cruise from the parking lot and get back onto the road toward home.
I know he likes you. I mean, like, crazy-likes you.
I’m well aware of the attraction humming between Xavier and me, but what I told Piper is true: Xavier likes a lot of women. And I deserve someone who is so crazy about me, he doesn’t even notice other women. Still, it’s disappointing. I’m crazy about Xavier in a lot of ways, and even after all the shit I’ve been through, I find myself thinking that age-old myth that maybe if he’s with me, he won’t want other women.
Everyone wants to feel special. Every woman wants to find the mythical One. I was so absolutely sure I’d found my One in Bodhi, it still hurts to think I wasn’t his.
The tension inside me reaches a tipping point and sends a signal to my brain: I’m trying too hard to handle this on my own. I could definitely use some divine guidance, so I tune in to my heart and send a quick Help me out here to Chamuel, the archangel of relationships. Then I do what I tell others to do—I tune in to my heart and listen, then open my eyes to look for signs. Signs most people miss because they’re too busy being wrapped up in the chaos of life—including me.
I let out a breath and relax my shoulders. The tension in my chest eases. I always find a measure of relief believing I’ve got a higher power working on my behalf. It’s a concept I picked up while I was at the monastery in Tibet after I walked away from Bodhi. In my two months of silent healing there, I read dozens of books. One, by one of my favorite authors, talked about spiritual guides who are always ready and willing to come to your aid if requested.
Since then, I’ve developed what I consider a playful relationship with spiritual guides and angels. Placebo effect or not, I feel lighter, and that’s half the battle.
I’m enjoying the sense of relief as I pull up behind another vehicle at the stoplight. The color strikes me first—a beautiful bright pink hue. I smile because Chamuel is represented by the color pink. But despite my sometimes-ethereal beliefs, I’m very firmly planted in reality. One pink van sighting isn’t going to change my mind about Xavier.
I glance out the window and take in the golden rolling hills and newly built homes in a nearby development. When I look forward again, more pink pulls my attention to the paint on my fingernails. Which then causes me to glance at my workout clothes—all pink.
A flicker of panic tingles along my neck. “Don’t toy with me, Chamuel. We both know Xavier and I aren’t a good fit.”
When the light turns green, I change lanes and glance at the side of the van, where the company name and logo make my jaw drop: Angel’s Posey Passion is flanked on either side with fluffy white angel wings. After a year in Wildfire, I’ve never heard of this florist and never seen one of its delivery vans.
I’ve been manifesting for years—my last book was all about cultivating daily miracles—yet I’m always startled when these messages come through so loud and clear. Obviously, it’s not telling me anything specific, but I believe I’m being heard. If I’m patient, his message will eventually emerge.
I turn the corner onto the road leading to the marina and look longingly at the van as it drives on, as if it will offer some additional message to clear up any confusion or doubt.
Of course, it doesn’t.
But when I return my gaze to the road in front of me, a crystal hanging from my rearview mirror catches the sun and casts sparkling pink light across the dashboard. Pinks in every hue between purple and peach dance through the interior as the crystal bounces.
A laugh bubbles out of me, then my logical brain kicks in. I can’t be seeing what I think I’m seeing. Crystals reflect a rainbow of light, not just one color. I look away, then back and the interior is still twinkling with ten shades of pink.
“Okay, Chamuel,” I say as I turn into the marina’s lot. “You’ve got my attention.”
I’m surprised to find the lot full. It appears some of the participants who signed up to come early have already arrived. There’s a line out the door of the market, where registration and boat assignments are made.
Excitement bubbles up inside me as I pull into my parking space. When I stand from the car, I feel lighter, and a beautiful breeze sweeps past, caressing my skin. I think of the three hundred people who will be attending the conference starting tomorrow, and I can’t wait. Some are coming in from the area, some have rented our houseboats, and some are staying in nearby hotels.
I’ve never been surer of my life’s purpose, and I head to my houseboat with renewed energy to tackle all that still needs to be done.
3
Chloe
By 7:00 p.m., Laiyla and I finish filling the welcome totes with swag from the marina and a copy of my bestselling book. There should also be a book from the retreat’s leader, Shannon Duncan—an unusual name for a man—but they haven’t arrived yet.
I’ve never met Shannon, He's a fresh face on the spiritual scene, and since I’ve been in Wildfire for the last year, away from the movers and shakers of the industry, I don’t know anything about him. But after checking out his corporation’s website and reading a little about his background, I’m looking forward to meeting him.
Laiyla’s phone pings with a message.
“It’s Levi,” she says, referencing her fiancé. “He says the books were just dropped off.”
“Oh, great. I’d like to finish these bags tonight.”
I was also hoping to start the book before I met Shannon. He and I will be doing a joint book signing after one of the dinners. The retreat coordinator also reserved my meditation and yoga services for every morning and evening of the retreat, and I plan to sit in on all the lectures and workshops.
“Levi’s going to bring them over.” Laiyla fusses with the tissue in the last bag, then stares at it a long minute, lost in thought. “Is that it? Are we done? My mind is shorting out.”
“Before you know it, this will all be second nature.”
She heaves a sigh and looks at me, brow furrowed. “Is that why you’re so damned calm?”
“Probably. I’ve lost count of the conferences I’ve given or participated in. Plus, I’m not presenting. Handling the fluff is something I could do in my sleep. This is good prep for your wedding. I think changing it to August was a great decision.”
“Me too. Now I can really enjoy both the opening of the marina and my wedding.”
“Everyone in town is abuzz about being invited.”
“Levi is their favorite son, for sure.” She puts a hand against her forehead and laughs. “I still can’t believe he invited every single resident.”
“It’s definitely going to be one for the memory books.”
She sighs and starts cleaning up the chaos of tissue and ribbon.
I shoo her away. “Stop. Go out there and save Levi from the guests.”
“It’s just so important, you know? The first conference, and it’s so big. We have so much invested in
this. I really want it to go off without a hitch and be something everyone talks about. It would kick off a great reputation for conferences here.”
“It’s going to be amazing. Trust me.” I move toward her and give her a hug, then push her back by the arms. “Now go grab a glass of wine and relax.”
“Is Z coming tonight?”
Xavier has become a semiconstant fixture in our group. He’s developed friendships with Levi and Ben, and since he and I are also friends, he’s often invited to our get-togethers. “He’s going to stop by after his shift to help me move these bags to the conference center. He can also help me put the new books into the bags. He owes me.”
Laiyla’s brows lift. “When a man like that owes you a favor, you should use him for more than menial labor.”
I laugh. “Head out there and grab a glass for me too. I’ll be there in a few.”
When she’s gone, I look at all the pretty bags covering the living room floor of my small houseboat. I’ve been so busy and focused, I hadn’t picked up on the pink theme. Only now, looking at a sea of pink covering my floor do I pick up on the sign and think about what it might mean.
I cross my arms and smirk at the floor. “I’m beginning to think all this pink isn’t a sign at all. It’s just one of my favorite colors.”
I start cleaning up, scooping up leftover ribbon and swag and repositioning bags so I have a path through the room. Then I check myself in the mirror, touch up the loose waves in my hair, run my hands down the front of my favorite boho sundress, the one that dips low in the front and ends high on the thigh with a loose skirt that flows effortlessly around my legs. It’s—what else—deep pink, with a lush floral pattern that gives off an easy sensual vibe.
Before I walk out, I pause at the door, take a few deep slow breaths, and tune in to my body to release residual tension. Then my heart, to ensure it’s open and full. I label the tingling there as excitement. It took me a long time to learn how to reframe fear as excitement, but it was worth the work. Now, this buzz doesn’t bother me as much as it pleases me.
I’m excited there will be three hundred people at this retreat. I’m excited that all three hundred of them are people I can serve. No matter where they live, they can access my book and enroll in a variety of online memberships. This may be Shannon Duncan’s event, but I’m getting great benefit out of it. And so is the resort. We have thousands of dollars invested in just this one retreat, and first impressions are important.
I offer a quick Thank you for bringing me clarity before leaving my boat.
My sandals create a soft click on the dock as I make my way toward the market, where about three dozen guests mingle on the deck overlooking the lake. The sun is setting, casting a stunning coral landscape behind the rolling hills, the scene mirrored in the calm water.
My blood pressure slides down another notch. It’s a postcard-perfect evening, and gratitude floods me—for my friends, for this opportunity, for finding my path. It’s taken a long and rocky road of experience to embrace the wisdom I packed into my first book, Manifesting Daily Miracles. I’ve also learned that knowledge and practice are two very different things, just one of the themes going into the book I’m currently writing.
Most of the early birds are women, which is typical of spiritual retreats. Women tend to be deeper thinkers than men, deeper feelers than men, and often seek solace from within, while men search for happiness outside themselves, usually alcohol, drugs, sports, cars, gambling, women.
My mind touches on Xavier again, but I force the thought away. Before I make it to Laiyla and Levi where they stand with KT, Ben, and Ben’s kids, Violet, Poppy, and Jazz, someone recognizes me and rushes over.
“Oh, Ms. Hart.” The woman is in her fifties, gaze open and warm. “I wanted to tell you that your book has brought me so much peace.”
Before I can respond, two more women closer to my age join us. They also sing my praises, and I sign the copies of my book they brought from home. I thank them for their kindness and tell them I hope to see them in yoga and meditation classes.
When I reach my friends, they’re grinning. KT is holding Jazz, Ben’s youngest daughter, and uses her free hand to lick her index finger, then pretends to touch me with a sizzling sound. The others laugh.
“Hi, Chloe,” Jazz says.
I touch her sweet round pink cheek. “Hi, beautiful baby.” Then I look at Poppy and Violet. “Hello, beautiful girls.”
“Hi,” they say together, their grins big and happy.
I love these girls so much. KT and Ben leave on their first sailing journey in August, after Laiyla and Levi’s wedding, and I’m going to miss them all so badly.
“Kat,” Jazz says, “I’m hungry.”
“Come on, girls,” Ben says, taking Jazz from KT. “Let’s go see what’s on the menu.”
I rub my hands together and look around at all the friendly faces.
“So, you do get nervous,” Laiyla says.
“Nope,” I say with mock enthusiasm. “This is excitement.”
That makes KT, Laiyla, and Levi laugh.
“Have you seen Shannon?” I ask, scanning the group for a man, one of only three who are attending.
“I think he checked in a little earlier,” Laiyla says. “He may still be settling in.”
I nod and glance toward the parking lot, looking for Xavier. His sarcastic teasing and tales from work are always entertaining and would help soothe the buzz that’s feeling more like nerves than excitement right now.
While the others chat about needs and plans at the resort, I check in with myself, searching for the source of the discomfort. I can’t nail it down, but it doesn’t feel like it’s coming from within me. It feels like it’s being projected onto me from something external, which I don’t understand. Everyone on this deck is smiling. The atmosphere is relaxed and upbeat.
“You’re doing it again,” KT says.
“What?” I refocus on her. “Doing what?”
“Your mind goes somewhere without your body. You should really zip-tie those suckers together, or you may lose one.”
“Ha.” I force my attention back to the group. “I’m just—”
“Excited,” Laiyla and KT say at the same time. “We know.”
Laiyla looks past my shoulder. “This might be Shannon.”
I turn to scan the crowd and instantly find the man she’s talking about. His back is to me, and he’s surrounded by women. His head is bent, his attention focused on something in his hands. Then he offers a book to one of the retreat attendees and takes one from another.
I turn and wait for a moment to approach. He finishes signing a book and hands it back to one of the women. Something about him plucks a familiar chord inside me, but I can’t pinpoint what.
Then he shifts his stance, and I catch his profile. An ice bomb of panic explodes in my gut and I pull in a sharp breath.
What the… No. No, no, no. It can’t be.
Denial hits like a brick wall. But he turns, facing someone else and giving me a clear look at his face. It's not Shannon.
It's Bodhi.
My heart flutters, and a flicker of real excitement warms my chest. But that only lasts a second. Maybe even a split second. And when everything hits—all the hurt, all the loneliness, all the loss, all the humiliation—ice burns through my gut. My breathing hitches. My vision hazes around the edges.
I turn my back on him, but I’m frozen in place. I’m so not prepared for this, and my mind has been shocked numb.
“Chloe?” KT’s talking to me, but her voice sounds far away. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
I feel Bodhi come up beside me. I feel him like I’ve always been able to feel him, like we’re physically connected. In that instant, when he’s close enough to touch, longing encompasses my heart like Saturn’s rings. At the same time, I recognize the danger he presents. Or maybe it’s the way I feel that represents danger. I don’t know. I can’t think. And all the feelings inside me pop and tangle until I’
m trembling.
KT, Laiyla, and Levi turn their attention toward Bodhi. They’re talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. Their voices sound like they’re underwater.
Then all eyes veer toward me, and everything clicks on at once—my hearing returns, my gaze sharpens, my brain spins.
“Hi, Chloe.”
His voice is still smooth and soothing. It still grips my heart like a fist. The war of the century wages inside me—enough yearning to throw myself into his arms, enough fury to deck him.
I force my gaze to meet those familiar blue eyes. They still sucker punch me. So many emotions swim there—guilt, regret, hope. A couple of the bricks in my wall crumble. Loss pours through like a leak in a dam.
My gaze catches on every detail that used to enchant me—the scar on his chin from rock climbing in Nepal, the slightly lopsided smile, the barely-there nervous tic beneath his left eye.
God. We were the best of friends for so long. I loved him so completely at one time. His betrayal fileted me to the bone. Still, I can’t deny the atmospheric pull to forgive, and I can’t help but wonder if he is the clarity I prayed for, because he’s causing the exact opposite.
“Chloe?” KT steps in, putting her body between me and Bodhi, clearly unsettled. “Want me to get rid of him?”
I can’t answer because I can’t breathe. I used to have terrible stage fright. Speaking to an audience of even ten people would bring on a panic attack. That’s how I feel now, a decade after I cured myself of the immobilizing fear.
I fall back on muscle memory and force my lungs open, then force myself to meet everyone’s gaze—KT, Levi, Laiyla—and clear my throat. “Excuse us for a minute.”
I turn away from the group, away from Bodhi, knowing he’ll follow. I also know my friends are keenly aware there’s a problem, and the idea of having to explain this later weighs me down. I find a quiet space, and by the time I turn to face him, I feel like every thread woven into my psyche is unraveling.
He saunters toward me, his gaze falling to my body and slowly working its way back to my face. He’s wearing khakis and a tropical-print short-sleeved shirt open at the throat. My swimming head ironically focuses on the shirt’s dark blue background, making the pink palm fronds stand out. Pink.
