The Counseling (8 page)

Incredulously, I ask, "You don't what?"

"We've got a truce, Kendall. I just can't touch you ... or anyone, for that matter."

Questions cascade in my mind like falling dominoes, but there's no time to ask any of them. Oliver Bates calls us to order. I swallow the queries down like a lump of oatmeal. Patrick doesn't move, doesn't flinch, doesn't do anything. He just sits there messing with the strap of his glove.

Is that what he's here for? To get help with his ... lack of touch? Can Bates's counselors help him? Hell, can they help any of us? And where exactly are these people?

No sooner do I ask the question in my head than an adjoining door opens and in walk four adults.

I
THINK MY HEAD
is going to explode from all the information coming at me.

My hand scribbles notes as quickly as the counselors talk to us this Monday morning. Each counselor has a specialty and will be working with us to sharpen whatever abilities we want to develop.

"The point of being enlightened," Oliver states, "is to open yourself to all possibilities before you. Be open-minded about the things the universe is sending your way. Accept the gifts you've been given by your Creator. Use them to help others and to do good, not to manipulate or make money or exploit people."

"Like his TV show doesn't exploit people?" I hear Greg mutter.

Maddie speaks up. "His show helps close cold-case homicides and missing-persons crimes. The families are totally in on it. He doesn't exploit."

"Well, excuuuuuse me," Greg says.

"Shhhhh," Erin spits, like we're back in fifth grade or something.

Oliver pays us no mind and continues. "I'd like to introduce the wonderful souls who are here to help you with your enlightenment this week. I couldn't ask for a better staff to assist you. First off, this is Heidi Harman."

He points to a tee-tiny woman with white blond hair. Big blue eyes sparkle from her round face, and a vibrant smile shines from one corner of her mouth to the other. She's dressed in a white tracksuit and has a lovely stone amulet around her neck.

"Hi, everyone. I'm thrilled that you're here and I can't wait to work with you. My specialty is energy healing and I use many tools to harness the earth's energies to rid people of ailments. I'm going to teach you the meanings of the earth's stones, as well as how to use Reiki and certain breathing techniques. For those of you who want to focus more on attunement, we have sounding forks that I can show you how to use. Mostly," she continues, "I'm here for you in whatever capacity you need me."

Harper raises her hand. "Are you psychic?"

Heidi thinks for a moment. "I believe we're all psychic in a way; it's a matter of whether or not we choose to use or recognize it. My abilities are more toward healing in whatever form or fashion. I'm feeling connections with several of you at this moment."

The petite woman's energy is definitely reaching out to me, and I feel safe, secure, and comfortable in her presence. I look forward to talking to her about the attunement-healing practice I've been doing at Loreen's shop and whether or not it's what I should be concentrating on.

"Thank you, Heidi," Oliver says. "Next, let me introduce you to Peggy Armer."

An older woman with a shining smile steps to the front. She is wearing a zip-up hoodie with a skull and crossbones on the front of it. Her jeans are bell-bottoms, and work boots cover her feet. She looks as if she could go ghost hunting with Celia, Becca, Taylor, and me at any moment. Her long brown hair is straight and parted in the middle, framing her oval face.

"Hello, children," Peggy says. "It's a pleasure to be here with you. I sense so many wonderful thoughts in this room." She glances about and connects with Harper in particular. "Like you, dear, I'm empathic. For those of you who don't know what that means, I can sense and feel what others are feeling. I take on their pain as my own. I also work a lot with remote viewing, automatic writing, and using a dowsing pendulum. There are several of you here that I will become very close with."

Willowmeana asks, "Can you explain what remote viewing and automatic writing are?"

"Certainly, dear," Peggy says. "Remote viewing is a means by which a sensitive—like many of you—may telepathically view a location from a distance. You may not know it, but the U.S. government used remote viewers during the Cold War to see what the Soviets were up to."

"That's crazy!" Willowmeana says.

"Is that something that interests you?"

Nodding, Willowmeana explains. "Once my mother lost her car keys and I concentrated real hard and was able to see where she'd left them at the grocery store. I drew her a map of where I saw them, and sure enough, they were exactly where I said."

Peggy grins. "That's just what I'm talking about. I'd be happy to work with you—or anyone else—on it."

"So what's automatic writing?" Micah asks.

"Automatic writing is a process by which an individual places a pen or pencil to paper and then, without concentrating on what he or she is writing, allows subconscious thoughts to flow through and guide the pen. This is one of the most basic forms of channeling."

"I've done that," Evan Christian says.

"I'll work with you too, dear."

Oliver steps up. "Thank you, Peggy. She's really got some amazing things to share with you folks this week. Now, let me introduce a very special lady: Mary McCay. She was there to guide me when I had my transformation and became a medium. Mary?"

A short, pleasant-looking mom type joins Oliver. "Thank you, Ollie. I won't take too much time right now, but I will be working with you all on telekinetics, psychokinesis, breathing, yoga, centering yourself, seeking the higher self, and generally mother-henning you, because that's what I do best." With that she pretends she's going to pinch Oliver's cheek, but she stops herself.

"And finally," Oliver says, "let me introduce to you a very special man. A holy man. This is Eddie 'Wisdom Walker' Nelson." A heavyset, older Native American man eases forward, wrapped in what appears to be some sort of animal skin. His long black hair is plaited in two braids. He is the real deal. "Wisdom Walker is going to show you how to find your totem animal and spirit guides to help you move onward in developing your abilities."

Eddie "Wisdom Walker" Nelson speaks not a word; rather, he raises his hand over us and waves it around.

"He's blessing us," Willowmeana explains.

And then he leaves the room, as quietly as he entered.

I glance around at my fellow "enlightened" ones, thinking of the gifts that each of us possess. At least the ones I know of. There are some that even my psychic senses aren't able to pick up. Particularly, the talent that one Patrick Lynn has. Without turning my head, I know that he's just sitting there behind his sunglasses taking it all in, not flinching, fidgeting, or showing any emotion.

I know there's more to him than this bitter façade he's got going. Because I've dreamed of him—three separate occasions now—there's got to be a reason we're both here at the same time. There must be an explanation for why I got in at the last minute to the camp of the guy his father has connections to. Loreen tells me constantly that everything happens for a reason and I'm wondering what in the world brought Patrick Lynn and me together.

My heart races at the thought of some sort of cosmic force directing us to the same spot and time on earth. Tingly sensations zap up and down my hand at the memory of his brief touch last night. A zigzag of emotions scatter through me, ranging from the intrigue of meeting a stranger to the excitement and exhilaration of what's to come. Sure, Jason and I are officially broken up, but I have no idea—as psychic as I am—where Patrick Lynn fits in my life.
If
he fits in my life. It really
could
all just be a coincidence.

There are no coincidences...

Okay. Who just said that?

And who's this Jason? If you're broken up, quit thinking of him.

I grind my teeth, seething at this invasion of my privacy.
Who
is doing this? I can't tell if the voice is male or female. Is it one of my
chicas
here messing with me? Or is it one of the guys trying to hit on me in some New Age way? It couldn't be Oliver or a counselor, could it? Maybe it's one of the spirits here at the inn. In any case, it's
not
funny and I don't appreciate it.

Whoever you are ... piss off.
There. That should do it.

Such language from such a pretty girl. Tsk-tsk...

"Stop it!" I shout, covering my ears at the same time like that might actually help.

Almost immediately, every eye in the room—even Patrick Lynn's behind his aviators—is turned to me. Some stare at me in dismay, others in shock, but most are chuckling at my outburst.

"Sorry, Oliver," I say meekly. "Just, umm, arguing with the, er ... voices in my head"

Everyone laughs, even me.

Oliver walks over and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Don't worry, Kendall. Only in a roomful of other enlightened ones does that statement make sense. No one here is going to throw a straitjacket on you and lock you up."

I slump in my chair in relief. "That's good to know."

"One other thing," Oliver says. "The drivers and sedans here at Rose Briar are available for you whenever you want. This is your vacation. Your conference. Yes, there's an itinerary and plenty to do and work on with the counselors. However, I'm not holding you prisoner here. If you want to get out in the area and play, be my guest. All you have to do is sign out a sedan and make sure you don't go anywhere alone. That's my only rule. We're two hours from the ocean and an hour from Yosemite. The world is yours to explore, if that's what you wish."

Jess balls up her fist, extending her pinkie and thumb in opposite directions. "Hang ten, beeyotches! Let's hit the waves!"

That's right ... California, baby! I smack my hand to the table and turn to Patrick, quite naturally. "I've never been to the Pacific Ocean! We should all go swimming. How awesome will that be?"

Patrick pulls back in his seat, almost cringing at my words.

What did I say? How can this be the guy I've been fantasizing about? He doesn't even like me.

Feeling huffy, I say, "I'm sorry if the thought of hanging out at the beach with me—with us—disgusts you."

"It's not you, Kendall. Trust me," Patrick says in a shaky voice.

"What
ever.
" I hate using that word, but it so fits right here. Fine. Stay bundled up in your leather and knit while the rest of us enjoy California Dreamin'.

"This retreat is all about you. You get out of it what you put in," Oliver says. "Got it?"

"Got it," several people say in unison, including me.

I notice that Patrick is silent as a church mouse. He tugs off his sunglasses and presses his thumbs against his eyes, rubbing hard. Dude's gonna go blind pressing like that. Or maybe he's trying to erase a vision or memory. His face is so intense, like he's attempting to solve the world's most elaborate logarithm. God knows that would make me go goofy in six different languages.

He takes his hands down and stares right at me with those eyes of his that seem to cut right through me. I'm expecting some sort of retort to my previous "Whatever," but all he does is ogle, unblinking. The gaze is so forceful that I can't pull away from it. I dare not blink for fear of losing this crackling union.

In my mind's eye, I see Patrick and me ... together ... walking ... one minute we're in a heated discussion, the next a heated embrace.

I jump back, reeling from the hallucination. That's what it's got to be. Me going stark raving bonkers. Sweat dots my forehead and my upper lip. Now I blink like there's no tomorrow. Did Patrick see that delusion too?

As precipitously as the image appeared, it vanishes. But the tension hangs in the air, like drying laundry.

Patrick scares the crap out of me when he shoves his sunglasses back in place and mutters, "I knew I shouldn't have taken them off. I can't deal with this." With that, he pushes out of his chair and hightails it up the basement stairs, away from everyone.

"What was
that
all about?" Jess asks.

Even though I'm in a roomful of psychics, I'm not telling her what just happened. "Beats the heck out of me."

I collapse back in my chair and sigh. A long, deep one that has been building in my chest for the last fifteen minutes. I think I'm in for a whole hell of a lot more than enlightenment on this trip.

Oliver continues with the orientation and I berate whatever spirit guides or angels are leading me on right now. I do believe the fates are pulling a dirty trick on me, having me dream about...
him.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to forget the mental picture I just had of me in Patrick's arms. I try to forget about the chill bumps I get being around him. I try to forget about the zip-pity-zap when our hands touched.

I try to forget about Patrick Lynn ... period.

"T
HAT WAS FAN-FRICKIN'-TASTIC!
" Maddie exclaims as we leave the conference room shortly before noon.

I'm still spinning from the war of wills with Patrick—who stayed gone for the rest of the morning. "What? The dowsing demonstration Heidi did?"

"Yes! Did you see how the pendulum moved when she asked it questions? I've never seen anything like that before. Right, Erin?"

Her sister nods profusely. "Oliver said he has some we can buy to try dowsing on our own. You should get one too, Kendall."

I don't want to sound like a Miss Priss know-it-all. "I already have a couple. I use them when I'm ghost hunting."

Harper chimes in, "You go ghost hunting? Doesn't that scare the crap out of you?"

I lift my hand and wave it in the air, trying to be nonchalant. No need to get into the details of my ghostly horrors at this point. "Not any more than, say, having spirits talk to you any time they want to. You guys know how it is."

"I suppose," Erin says. "But purposely going out and
looking
for ghosts? That seems a little wacked."