The Knowing: Awake in the Dark (25 page)

To be clear, I didn’t pop up one morning and exclaim, “Today’s a good day for a rape!” It was in no way my fault. I didn’t ask for it. But every thought I had, all the beliefs about myself, led me to that possible moment. What I did with the experience was up to me.

When I looked back at my life, I realized the information had always been there, but my own self- doubt and youth prohibited me from fully understanding. Honestly, it took years to heal and peel back layers of fear, anger and misunderstanding. It took work.

In Scotland, I accepted myself and my gifts which helped me to understand that I had a choice to use my abilities or continue to ignore them. I chose to use not only my natural ability, but to learn how to master my skill. That required patience, trust and practice, practice, practice. I had to walk my talk.

I reviewed my choice to return to Aaron and the reasons for that were many. The heart of it lay in rejection of myself and what I
knew
or felt. I held a deep-seated belief that I wasn’t good enough, coupled with a comfort level with abuse. Violence and emotional battering seemed normal to me. I falsely thought the behavior was love. Even greater than this, was a soul agreement with my children. They too had agreements to be biologically connected with Aaron and the reasons for that are not important for me to know. They, like all of us, have individual soul intent and these aspects are reflections of their life path’s and what they choose to learn and experience. We are all linked together. We are all one.

The more I prayed and meditated and gave readings, the stronger my gifts became. The trick was learning to trust my ability. I gave psychic readings much in the same way I had with Angie, hearing words in my mind coupled with that deeper
knowing
. Of course with time, my technique was refined.

I’d start with silent prayer and intent, asking for a clear and open channel of information. I’d ask for support and guidance from my client’s angels and guides. I’d ask to align my highest source with theirs. Through vibration of name, I connected with the energy, that was my client, and the information flowed in through words, feelings, smells and visions.

I would learn to channel loved ones who’d passed on and transitioned to another consciousness. In the beginning, some who died would find me, invading my home, moving objects, making noise to gain my attention or they simply manifested in front of me, talking so fast I’d run for paper and pen. They hoped I might deliver a message to their families or loved ones. Some of the souls I had known in life and others I hadn’t. I am grateful for my gifts and couldn’t imagine a life without them but, as you know, it wasn’t always easy. The turning point in my life occurred in Scotland where I was free to discover and become who I am.

I’d been reluctant to return to the US, but the guidance I received on the train platform that day was a blessing and the reasons for the directive soon became clear.

When we arrived back in the states, we lived temporarily with Maggie and her family, who opened their home and welcomed us back. Maggie was married with three children and genuinely happy. Their little three-bedroom ranch was crowded because there were five extra people instead of just four camped at Maggie’s. My friend and employee, Helen had come with us. I told her of my plans to return home and her response surprised me.

“You’ll never believe what I’ve decided.” I confided as we walked to the train station after work.

“What?” she asked.

“I’ve decided ti go back to the states with my mum. I can’t let her go alone. I just have a feeling about it.”

“Ken I cum wit ye then?” She asked with eyes full of hope. “I’ll pey ye back fer my ticket. I will. I’ve not been to America and I really need a new start.”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not? We’ll ask my sister if you can stay with us.”

“Eewww!” She squeeled. “Oh thank ye, thank ye!” She said, as she squeezed my neck dancing from toe to toe.

The truth was that I was terrified to leave Scotland and Helen offered a chance to bring it with me. I had a new last name and a brogue which had become part of me, my friend and those things helped me to feel safe.

I can never let him find us
.
No one can connect me with the girl of my past
. That was how things needed to be for my children’s protection. I would keep the whole truth about our past secret from most people for decades.

I slept on the top bunk in Maggie’s boy’s room and Helen took the bottom. I lay in bed night after night meditating and visualizing a new job that would support us. I knew I would find something perfect and only weeks later, I landed a job as the Director of Operations with a growing restaurant chain. I opened six restaurants with them and wrote training material for all levels of staff.

The first job in my new position was to open an upscale opera café which was weeks away from completion. I met a man named Dylan.

I hurried through the dining room, still under construction, trying to avoid scattered tools, wooden sawhorses and workmen. The shrill screech of a skill-saw used to cut marble tile assaulted my eardrums and bounced from every hard and incomplete surface. The walls had yet to be covered with rich dark mahogany woods to match the ornate bar. The floors yet to be laid in veined marble squares, polished to a sparkling sheen that would support luxurious, booths and tables covered with crisp white linens. The room would be finished with a beautiful Steinway grand piano.

I moved toward the bar, my arms aching with bulky manuals and heavy paperwork I carried to prepare for inspections. I realized too late that a fine dust from cut marble and wood blanketed the bar’s top. It clung to my suit’s sleeves, puffing up in a great cloud as I thumped my burden on it. Swatting wildly, I attempted to clear the air as I scanned the room for Tim, the bar manager, who I couldn’t see. Irritated, I spun around and nearly fell into our Executive Chef, Dylan. He stood behind me clutching a clipboard to his chest. In a mock Elvis voice he said,

“Well, excuse me, little lady.” His head teetered back and forth as he smirked at me.

Dylan was tall, well-muscled and oh so handsome. His laughing eyes were blue gray and the man was funny, gut splitting, face hurting, wet your pants funny. That first time I saw him, I felt something warm and familiar. He carried an air of self-confidence, a man comfortable in his own skin. I found him wildly attractive. He was sarcastic and he tickled me with his quick wit and clever remarks.

“Have you seen Tim?” I asked gazing upward forcing myself to keep a straight face, ignoring his remark.

“He’s probably drooling and hiding in a closet somewhere, he’s terrified of you.” Dylan answered smiling.

“Is he now?”
Smart-ass
.

“Yeah, since you ripped him a new one he ran screaming from the building. He’s probably in Texas by now.”

“Ha, ha. Quite funny aren’t yi?” I conceded smiling like a drooling fool.

“Well, we try, ma’am.”

Because of our positions and workload, Dylan and I spent an inordinate amount of time together during the opening. We found ourselves crowded together in the tiny manager’s office filling out endless piles of paperwork and talking on separate phone extensions. We camped at dust- covered tables where I wrote training material and Dylan interviewed and hired staff, we organized pantry shelves and completed opening inventories. We were the first ones to arrive each morning and the last ones to leave at night.

One night after work, I offered to drive us into town for a pizza dinner. My car was an old beat-up Buick Skylark. I parked directly in front of the pizza joint located in an affluent downtown area where my vehicle looked like a rotten tooth in an otherwise perfect smile. As we approached the car after eating, Dylan began waving his arms like an orangutan and dancing from foot to foot. “Be careful now folks!” He shouted to strangers on the sidewalk. “Be careful! Step back now. You never know if she’ll blow on ignition.”

He wore a goofy smirk on his face and his laughing eyes sparkled with delight as he teased me publicly about my old beater. I laughed and laughed at his brazen behavior. Another time, Dylan gave me a lift to the store. We’d finished work and were meeting several co-workers for drinks. “I’ll be right back,” I said. I ran into the market to buy ex-lax for obvious reasons and as I stood in line to check out, Dylan was suddenly at my side. He glanced down at the conveyer belt and my cheeks began to sizzle with embarrassment. He scooped up the ex-lax and shouted, “Oh-boy! Ex-lax! Who needs it?!” He waved his arm over his head capturing the attention of the shoppers and anyone in earshot. “Ex-lax here! Anyone need it?” The checker and I laughed hysterically along with everyone in line. What was I going to do with him?

“I know she’s out there so-omewhere, on the western sky-yline. Bruce Hornsby blasted in Dylan’s RX-7 as we cruised down the highway to a secret destination only Dylan knew. The night before, we’d sat together in a trendy California bar crowded with patrons hoping to satisfy their hunger by connecting with that special someone. Dylan leaned forward and spoke softly in my ear, “I want to be with you,” he said. “I don’t want you to see anyone else.” He pulled away and regarded me with his blue-gray eyes.

My stomach fluttered with delight. “Okay,” I smiled. “But you might be in for it.” I teased.

We began our exploration of one another.

Dylan was the sixth of ten children, raised back east in a conservative household. Recognizing intuition or understanding the Clairs was new for him. He did confess that while he respected the Catholic faith he’d grown up in, it didn’t feel like his truth. Dylan was always very intuitive.

As we spent time together, Dylan took care to hold my past and pain gently, protecting me and applying his love, humor and understanding like a lifesaving salve. He was the first person I trusted to tell all my secrets to and he did not judge or condemn me. Instead, he embraced me and all that I was. It didn’t matter to him that I had two children out of wedlock or that I could not have anymore because of a hysterectomy years before. Nor did it matter that my mother and I lived together and that wouldn’t change. My past and all that it entailed mattered not at all to Dylan.

One night as we lay together talking he said, “I knew I would meet a blonde woman that would change my life when I opened this restaurant, and then, there you were and I knew it was you.”

“Really?” I responded with surprise.” Boy, I was starting to fall for this guy.

Helen couldn’t work without a visa so she helped with the children and explored her new world. She moved out six months later, seeking her own friends and a new life, we lost contact and I never knew what became of her.

I’d also lost contact with my father when I went back to Aaron. I knew he remarried again twice after divorcing Della’Rae. He still lived in the south near his brother and other extended family.

Several months after I left Louisiana, my stepbrother, Harry, died in a motorcycle accident. The accident occurred on June 10
^th
, my father’s birthday and my half-sister, Sarah’s first birthday. The day it happened I was back in California in a car with Aaron. I felt energy like an electric current move through me. “Oh my, God.” I said. “I feel death. Someone has died.”

I wouldn’t know that it was Harry until I phoned my father at the end of that week. “Dad, is everyone ok?” I asked.

“No.” He said. “Harry died. He wrecked his motorcycle last week. He was brain dead and we had to let him go.”

“Why didn’t you call me!? You knew we were friends. I can’t believe you wouldn’t call me!”

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t think about it.” I felt grief and regret in the vibration of his voice.

A year before Harry’s death my father and Della’Ray had a little girl together. Her conception was nothing short of a miracle for Della’Ray who’d had her tubes tied ten years before.

My half-sister, Sarah was raised as an only child. I did my best to build a relationship with her and stay in contact. Sarah is twenty years my junior and only a year older than Elizabeth.

Sarah lived a difficult life filled with poverty and struggle. She worked hard to overcome adversity and became a professional model. She is happily married and resides in Arizona near me. Sarah also possesses some Clairs, most strongly, Claircognizance.

My other three sisters live in close proximity to one another and get together for holidays and special events.

Karina had three children and raised her family in the Mormon faith. She is a gifted quilt maker and lives a happy and grounded life. She is an exceptional mother and I admire her immensely. Karina is gifted with several Clairs and can still make people squirm just by fixing them with her
knowing
green eyes that say,
I can see you
.

Isla had two children and raised them as a single mom. She struggled for years with a crippling learning disability that left her feeling socially awkward and scarcely able to read or write. Yet, against all odds, she managed to make friends, hold steady jobs and support her family. She works with horses practicing the Parelli method and uses her special gift as a way of communicating with animals. I fondly call her “Doctor Doolittle.”