A kayak glided into view on the water, carving ripples over the smooth surface and distorting the perfect reflections of orange- and amber-leafed trees.
Maybe it was all the time I’d spent thinking lately, or all the poetry I’d been writing. Maybe it was my dramatic side showing. Whatever the reason, as I looked out at my new favorite park view, I realized thatmy life so far had reflected the world around me, like the water. But at the moment, I was changing like the trees.
My pen hit the paper in a burst of inspiration and emotion.
Choices are power
The decisions are all mine
No more feeling weak
My mission to become Emily Dickinson had failed on several fronts, but the more disturbing truth was that, for a long while, I’d made a terrible Emma Rini too.
Maybe Cecily had been right when she’d said I was looking for an excuse to run away. I’d been sad and unsure what to do about it. I’d blamed all my unhappiness on my lack of romantic love, but I had far bigger problems than that. I just hadn’t been willing to examine them. I’d long thought Emily’s solitude enhanced her poetry because she had time to see the world clearly and choose the perfect words for each moment. Now, alone on a hill, I felt closer to her than ever before. Thanks to her inspiration, I’d never be an incredible poet, but my world was finally coming into focus.
As for finding my soulmate—if he existed at all—now certainly wasn’t the time.
I lay back onto the blanket and stared into the sky. Wanting what I couldn’t have made me sad. So, I had to either get over it or manifest what I wanted.
I closed my eyes and smiled. Cecily said I always came up with two extremes. I folded my hands on my torso, then imagined myself twenty years older, surrounded by nieces and nephews, in a home I’d bought with income from my unnamed business, and I was perfectly happy about it all.
What kind of business did I own in this vision? Why hadn’t I automatically assumed it was the bookstore? Was I still single? I concentratedon the image of myself, and willed a man to take shape then wrap his arms around me, perhaps ask me how work was today at my ... office?
The sound of a barking dog made me open my eyes. Violet appeared, carrying a stuffed hot dog, presumably intended for tug-of-war. She happily lunged at me as I rose to a seated position. Her thumping tail wagged her entire body until she began to weave as she walked. Low guttural sounds of sheer doggy joy slid around her mouthful of hot dog stuffie.
“Hello,” I cooed, sliding directly into baby talk. “Beautiful lady. I’m so glad you’re here. Who is this?” I stroked her fur and tugged gently on the toy.
She pranced in her spot whining and harrumphing, unable to hold still.
Davis strode up the hill behind her, stopping at the edge of my blanket to smile down at me. “We keep running into one another.”
“Are you following me?” I asked.
Or was mindful manifestation more fast acting than I’d realized?
He grinned. “I finished up at Village Books and stopped at home to walk Violet before going to the office. She was too wound up to go back in her crate.”
“And you came here?”
“She loves this place,” he said. “We avoid it this time of day in the summer when it’s packed with people, but dogs can be off leash early in the morning, which she likes too.”
I raised my brows.
“Find out who sent your flowers yet?”
I blinked at the swift change of subject. Was he jealous? Or just nosy? “No.” Though I’d planned to call my family and ask before he’d appeared. I motioned to the empty space at my side. “Want to sit?”
“Woof!” Violet circled the space before me and sat.
I laughed. “Come on. You too. Pop a squat.”
Davis lowered himself beside me.
I opened my plastic snack container. “Can she have cheddar?”
“Violet loves all cheese.”
“A woman after my own heart,” I said, offering her a chunk on my palm.
