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She tapped the end of her pencil against her notebook. “This is the easy part. It’s making sure everyone shows up with what they’re supposed to bring that’s challenging.”
“You talked about raising money from ticket sales, but could we do more? What about a raffle for restaurant gift certificates, a weekend at a bed-and-breakfast, a spa day, or a tune-up at the new garage? It’s a way to get all the stores involved that don’t offer food or drinks.”
She snapped her fingers at me. “I love that idea. It’s a great way to advertise the participating businesses and raise money at the same time. Colton, you’re a genius.”
My chest filled with pride at her praise.
She furiously wrote down what we’d talked about.
When she was done, she set her notebook aside and leaned back in the chair.
“Are you feeling okay after what happened today?”
Her brow furrowed. “Not really. I feel off, and I don’t like it.”
“What do you normally do when you feel that way?”
She sighed. “Meditate, do yoga, hang with my friends. Nothing seems to be working, though.”
“Want to try it together?” I knew nothing about those things, but I wanted her to be herself, to feel good again.
She huffed a laugh. “What, meditate?”
“I’m willing to try if it helps.”
“Yeah, okay.” She slipped off the couch, clearing a spot on the rug that covered the hardwood floor to sit. When she was ready, she held out her hand to me. “Come here.”
I wasn’t sure what I was getting into when I took her hand and moved to sit in front of her, our knees touching.
Holding both of my hands, she said, “Close your eyes. We’ll start by turning our attention to our breathing. Breathe in for a count of five, hold for five, and then exhale slowly for a count of five.”
She counted our breaths, and it was easy to fall under the spell of her voice. For five breaths, there was nothing but the sound of her counting and our breathing.
“Now, pay attention to how the breath feels in your nose and the way your stomach moves with it.”
She was quiet for a few seconds, and I tried to focus on what she’d said to do. Each time, my mind wandered. I tried to refocus on the chill of the air in my nose and the rise and fall of my stomach.
When I felt more relaxed, Remi started speaking. “Archangel Michael, I’m ready to receive you. I need your guidance and protection.”
I’d heard of a St. Michael that provides protection to police officers. Some people even wore medallions, swearing it kept them safe in our line of work. I’d never heard of praying to him before.
When she fell silent again, I let my mind drift, remembering the breathing pattern she suggested.
The room seemed to fill with this warm energy; a bright light seemed to glow through my lids. I wanted to open my eyes to see if it was coming from the room, but I didn’t want to lose the feelings settling over me—safety and protection.
A few minutes later, Remi murmured, “Thank you, Michael, for your guidance and protection.” Then, to me, she said, “Slowly open your eyes, and wiggle your toes and fingers.”
I blinked open my eyes, my vision filling with her beautiful blue eyes that, minutes ago, were filled with anxiety but were now filled with relief. “It worked.”
She smiled, dropping my hands to climb into my lap. I hung on to the feeling I had during the meditation. I felt relaxed and calm. On top of me, Remi’s hands fluttered over my face, my hair, and my shoulders.
“That was incredible,” she murmured, kissing me.
I should have pulled away, asking her about what just happened, but I needed her and our connection. It seemed to only grow stronger by sharing in that meditation.
She ground over me, and I stood, her legs wrapping around my waist. I carried her up the steps to my bedroom, laying her gently on the bed.
I felt lighter than before, like I was floating on a raft in the water, not worried about where I was going, but leaving it up to a higher being. It felt like we’d been sitting out in the sun, the warmth surrounding us.
