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Her enthusiasm amuses me. “Sure.”
“Stop,” she says. “I need you to experience this. Close your eyes.”
I stare at her, doing the opposite of what she’s just asked.
“Seriously, Will, close your eyes.” Virginia places her fingers over my eyelids which flutter open as soon as she moves her hands.
“No, stay closed.”It’s a gentle command, but it is a command.
I obey. Then she presses her palm over my heart. “Just listen. Not to the distant traffic sounds or people talking, but to the energy coming from the ground, into your feet, and up your legs. Can you hear it? It’s the energy of the earth. It’s so calming. If you pay attention, it can reset your entire nervous system.”
She stops talking but doesn’t move her hand from my chest. I sneak a peek, and her eyes are closed, a giant smile on her lips. She has her other hand over her own heart. I want mine there, so I place my palm over hers. Without any hesitation, she pulls her hand out and presses it on top of mine. The fabric I’m touching is warm and soft.
“Focus on the earth energy,” she reminds me.
And boy, do I need reminding since my focus has moved to the energy that is rising and falling under her sundress.
“Will! Justfeelmy heartbeat.” Virginia’s hand squeezes mine. “You don’t need to pump my heart for me!”
I realize I’ve begun kneading the side of her breast. “Sorry.” I try to pull away, but she holds me.
“Focus on your feet.” She giggles.
I don’t know whether it’s being barefoot or having her hand on my chest or mine on hers, but she’s right. Once I relax, I do feel more grounded than I have in as long as I can remember.
I open my eyes. “You may be onto something with this hippie stuff.”
“Right?” she says. “And now for the ‘stop and smell the flowers’ portion of our walk.” Virginia removes my hand from over her heart and pulls me toward the rose bushes several yards away. She swings our arms like a kid, her joy strangely infectious.
“Did you know that the roses people buy in flower shops are scentless? They’re almost all hybrids that have been bred to live longer after they’ve been cut, but at a cost—no fragrance.”
I didn’t know this, and a week ago if you’d asked me if I cared, I’d have said no. But tonight, I’d love nothing more than to hear about the history of roses.
Virginia keeps talking. “These pinky-orange ones smell like pears and grapes. They’re called Lady Emma Hamilton. To me, they’re the prettiest roses. Lean in and take a deep breath.”
I do and nod my agreement.
“And these red-wine colored ones,”—she pulls me a few steps to the right—“are called Munstead Wood. Take a deep breath in. Blackberries, right? They’re my favorite fragrance.”
I lean in and inhale a deep breath. “Nice. What about these?” I step away from Virginia to a bush covered in bright pink flowers that don’t look like the others.
I put my bare foot down and lean in to take a whiff. “Fuck!” A burning spike impales my sole.
Before I can hop away, Bruce is on one side of me, Virginia on the other.
“It’s nothing. I think I stepped on a thorn. Surprised me. That’s all.” I try to laugh it off. “So much for the energy of the earth being so calming.”
Virginia looks like she might cry. “I am so, so sorry. Those have the worst prickles.”
“Let me help you back to the bench, sir. We can pull it out when you’re sitting.”
Turns out that’s easier said than done, given none of our fingernails are long enough to grab the small bit of thorn still poking out from the ball of my right foot.
“Will …” Virginia kneels in front of me, pain in her eyes. “I am so sorry. I feel terrible.”
“I’d like to renegotiate this whole ‘walk barefoot in the wild’ deal.”
“Sir, I suggest Virginia go back to the building to get tweezers. Unless you’d like me to call one of the other security members to bring them.”
