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“It’s time to go, Bobby. I have to make it to a meeting by one.”
Bobby groaned. “Sorry, Deloris, got to go. Maybe I could call you some time?”
“Bobby,” Jack said, putting the tone of authority into his voice that their father had used all those years ago and that Jack had perfected when he’d stepped in to fill his father’s shoes.
“A guy can’t have any fun around here anymore.” Bobby cast Deloris one more look filled with longing, then followed Jack to the door. “Your timing sucks.”
“You’re welcome,” Jack said as he slid into the car.
“Okay, thanks for giving me a ride.” Bobby grinned, oblivious to all but the pretty brunette as he craned his neck to catch one last glimpse.
“You can pick up where you left off when you come back to get your car,” Jack said.
“If she happens to be working then.”
“I have never known you to have trouble getting a date.”
“True.” Bobby cranked up the radio as Jack drove to his brother’s apartment.
A short while later Jack dropped off Bobby, then sped toward the interstate, his pulse pounding through the dull ache in his chest. The light ahead turned yellow. Jack floored it, rubbing his chest in an effort to relieve the growing pressure there.
The radio disc jockey announced the time and Jack swore. He was going to be late, even if he hit all green lights. He should call his client. Steering with one hand, he reached into his briefcase for the file with the client’s contact information. The file spilled as he yanked it from the briefcase, scattering its contents over the front seat and floor.
The ache radiated from his chest, with a sharpness that took his breath. Grimacing, he pressed his hand to his heart as the pain escalated to agonizing proportions.
A horn honked. He glanced up, then jerked the wheel hard to the right to avoid an oncoming car. The road veered off to the left as the car careened over the shoulder. He braked hard, fighting to maintain control of the wheel. All the while, he clutched his chest and gasped for breath through the bone-numbing pain.
His car hit an embankment and stopped. Adrenaline pounded through Jack as he peered at the back of the other car as it continued up the street, apparently unscathed. The pain eased, though his heart hammered and sweat beaded his brow.
That had been too close for comfort. He could have been killed.
This fatigue and these chest pains are your body’s way of warning you that all isn’t as it should be.
Jack bowed his head, his hands still gripping the wheel. Dr. Carmichael was right. Jack needed to cut back.
If he didn’t want to end up like his grandfather and father before him, he had to face that he could no longer be everything to everyone. It was time to help his family learn to stand on their own feet. Without him.
He’d been wrong not to take his condition seriously.
A FEW DAYS LATER, smoke curled from an oil burner on a shelf in the small but tidy shop. Jack wrinkled his nose, but the smell had a surprising appeal. Sunlight filtered through a window set above shelves of jars, boxes and packets of things he tried not to contemplate. He took in a deep incense-filled breath and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relax.
“Chamomile.” A woman with rosy cheeks smiled from behind a stack of books. “It’s good for lots of things, like insomnia and stress.”
He nodded, not quite sure how to respond. He’d had his share of both in recent months, among other symptoms. He cleared his throat. “Do you have any books on alternative healing?”
“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?”
