Chapter One

A Call for Help

There are no accidents
Everything happens for a reason

 Tahoe City was awash with the crimson and gold colors of fall. Tranquil Lake Tahoe shimmered like fi ne blue porcelain beneath a blazing sun. I steered my car into a parking space in front of the quaint building housing the local post office. Lacking door-to-door mail delivery in our community, the post office was a hubbub where locals socialized, gossiped, and discussed the weather.
 I gathered up my purse and mail, hopped out of the car, and stopped dead in my tracks. The urge to crawl under my car and hide  was overwhelming, but there I stood, paralyzed on wooden legs, wide-eyed in shock. My breath caught in my throat as I flattened myself against the car begging the Universe to make me invisible.  The sight of my ex-boyfriend Matt , leaning in so close to the younger, slimmer woman he had dumped me for, set my heart hammering until I thought it would explode. I had spent my entire life trying to be slender, and the mere sight of her slim figure had me sucking in my stomach wishing fifteen pounds would melt off me like butter.
 Then my eyes caught and locked on the diamond encrusted wedding band on her finger. I sagged beneath the grim recollection of the four years I had waited for a wedding ring that never materialized. After several agonizing minutes, the couple moved toward a brand new SUV with two expensive mountain bikes hooked onto the back. As they drove off together, I watched in disgust, fighting back waves of nausea. Donna get it together. People are looking at you. Get it together now. He chose her. He moved on. My emotions felt like a roller coaster ride.
 When Matt and I were together I was enamored by his good looks and charm. I believed our relationship was destined for marriage. Foolishly, I had put him on the deed to my house. The house I loved and had worked so hard to buy. The first house I had ever owned. I was devastated when I realized I’d chosen a man who was self serving. I learned for marriage and a family, but his focus was different. I believed he would change over time. Matt became more distant and started leaving every weekend. When he returned he said that all he needed was a little space.
 Then one day, right after he left, I heard a flirtatious sexy voice on his answering machine whispering that she couldn’t wait for another exciting weekend with him to begin. When I confronted Matt the scene was ugly, filled with angry spiteful words. I had to retain a lawyer to evict him. To make matters worse, I had to pay a fortune to get him off the deed. Secretly, my ex had kept a list of all the money he had spent on me over the four years we were together, including presents he had bought me, and now he wanted it all back. He also demanded reimbursement for house expenses he had paid while living with me, such as utility bills. When the settlement was finalized to remove him from the deed, I was left making my monthly mortgage payment and an additional payment to him as well, and that left me nothing to live on.
 I watched them drive away. Had my money bought her diamond ring, the new car, and the expensive mountain bikes? I would bet my last dollar on it. Even worse, the money I paid him was planned for adopting the child I longed to have.
 All my life I always believed I would meet the man of my dreams and have a family, but my relationships never led to marriage. After Matt, and in my forties, I adjusted my plan and began considering adoption alone. Since Matt had drained me emotionally and financially, it seemed every hope of having the life I yearned for was gone. I made the last and final payment to him and I was broke. Would I have what it takes to put the past behind me and move on?
 Lost in a limbo of self pity, while praying I’d see no one else I knew, I finally dragged myself into the post office, collected my bills, and returned to my car. Resisting the urge to sort through my  mail, I threw it down on the seat beside me and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered, then died. I tried again. Come on car. Please get me out of this parking lot. You’re old. You need a tune-up, but please start, please. It was all I could do to hold back the tears that threatened what little control I had left. Two tries later, the engine turned over and I fled for home.
 The drive to my house was only two miles. If I hadn’t been overwhelmed with humiliation, I would have noticed how breathtaking the view of Lake Tahoe was that day. The crystal clear water resonated calm as the brilliant sunlight glistened on the  magnificent mountains peaks. I shrunk in my seat and gripped the steering wheel as tightly as I could. After an eternity of five minutes, I pulled into my driveway nestled in the trees on a grassy slope overlooking the lake. Parking my car, I snatched up the stack of bills I could no longer ignore. Resting my head against the steering wheel, I collapsed into despair. I now stood to lose everything I’d worked so hard to acquire. The past few years consisted of long six day work weeks. I glanced toward my empty house, waves of loneliness washing over me.
 Overcome with exhaustion and wanting nothing more than to lie down and sleep, I went inside. A sensation of weight and softness against my leg lifted the heaviness in my heart. My furry friend, confidant and soul mate, Sheba my cat, greeted me with her soft purring way of saying that I really wasn’t alone, and that she was here to soothe my heartache. I reached down to reward her with maternal cuddling and she gave me her full attention, rolling over with her four paws in the air. The stunning markings of a blue-point Himalayan gave her a royal quality, and her huge blue eyes sparkled as she rose
and puffed up her back, purring.
 Glancing at the clock, I panicked, realizing my date was due to arrive in an hour. Friends had introduced me to a local contractor, thinking we might be a match. He seemed interesting and easy to talk to on the phone.
 Quickly shoving the bills into a drawer beneath my work calendar; my stomach became queasy when I saw my light work schedule for the next few months. My cat continued to gaze up at me, her eyes bright and alert. “Sheba, I’m going on a date. Wish me luck. Who knows, maybe he’ll like me,” I said with a tremor in my voice.
 Standing before the mirror in my bedroom, I tried on five outfits, and the last was the winner. This one matched my mood; black pants, black sweater, and a dark green leather jacket. The loose curls in my red hair seemed to be going in every direction. My fair Irish skin was blotchy but a little extra make-up would cover up my flaws. My hazel eyes seemed dull. Some eyeliner would work wonders. Even so, doubt nagged at me. How would he think I looked?
 In the dimly lit living room, I picked up a magazine and sat down to wait for Prince Charming to arrive. Okay, he was just a date, but I have an over active imagination. After reading the same article three times, I thought music might be nice, and maybe I should ask if he wanted a glass of wine before we left. Searching in the fridge for a bottle, I found a Chardonnay of dubious quality.
 I checked my watch; he was ten minutes late. Twenty minutes later, I had flipped through four magazines and still no date. I checked my hair and make-up in the mirror and for messages. None. I re-stacked the magazines and pushed them aside. Thirty minutes of diversion had passed and still no date. After an hour, I stopped dreaming up excuses and began pacing the carpet, staring out the window, searching for headlights in the driveway. By now, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the clock and my gut was telling me, that he was a no show.
 Deflated, emotionally raw and exposed, I leaned back against the sofa cushions and sobbed in hot ragged gasps. Only the fear of scaring  Sheba held back the wails of sorrow and anger that raged inside me. I don’t know how long I sat in a stupor crying, feeling like a cement truck had unloaded its cargo on my head. Trembling and spent, I struggled to gain control of myself by listening to the soulful music coming through the stereo speakers.
 Stumbling toward my bedroom I grabbed tissues and fell backwards onto my bed. Sheba my faithful buddy followed behind. She jumped up on the comforter and gently put one paw and then the other on my chest. Tears streamed down my face as she glared
at me. It was as if she was looking straight into my soul. Sheba and I had been through plenty together from days of pure joy and laughter in the backyard to the final struggles of unforgettable fights with the ex-boyfriend, next the marketing director, who stole from me and also from the self-doubt and loathing I have battled. My body shook as my
emotions crashed. Sheba wouldn’t budge. I propped up my head on a pillow and looked intently at her. She was communicating a telepathic message. Mom, stop it. Time stood still and neither one of us moved. Sheba seemed to be pleading with me to conquer this pattern.
 “Okay, you win,” I mumbled through a stuff y nose. “I’ll get my journal and work out my problems on paper. Happy now?” Leaning over to my night stand I pulled out my thick worn journal from the top drawer. Sheba slid off my chest and snuggled against my waist.

Journal
A Call For Help

 My life, yes, my life seems to be helter-skelter again. I thought I had taken a different path and I was on track, but old emotions keep coming up and sabotaging my happiness. As my cat insisted, I have to stop going two steps forward and one back. Weird, I feel like someone is in the room but of course there is no one here. So maybe I am losing it. Wow, I have that strong feeling someone is here again.
 All right, let’s sort this out. I left home from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania right after high school to change the pattern in my life. The alcoholism and violence in my family kept me off balance. So, I went to the University of Montana for two cold years and then off to the University of Hawaii to graduate. Sold pots and pans to survive while earning my college degree. Yep, loved it there and even won the title of Miss Hawaii. Next stop Hollywood and eight terrible years of struggling to make my mark as an actress. I was lied to, cheated on, and thrown away for the next pretty face.
 Finally, the culmination was being the last survivor from the rear section of a fiery DC-10 plane accident at Los Angeles International Airport. That’s when it all changed. I looked at life differently. With the guidance from George, my mentor, I faced my self sabotaging beliefs, overcame bulimia and thoughts of suicide. George and I had lots and lots of conversations and yes, he insisted I awaken my spiritual awareness, if I was going to fulfill my destiny. It has been fifteen years since the plane crash and I expected my life to be different by now. I did the work, but what……George you said you would teach me about intuition, but you haven’t. George, you broke your promise. If I really knew how to trust my intuition I would not be in this financial and emotional mess. I need help. Please, please I’m begging for help.

When the student is ready
the teacher will appear

______________________________

Chapter Two

 

It Is Time

 

We’re all partners on this earth

to help each other learn and grow

           

            I shifted in the bed trying to shut out the sound. Wha…what’s that noise? My head was throbbing. My back ached. Stop that ringing. I focused one eye on my digital clock. Was it five-thirty in the morning? Morning, it was morning, where had the night gone? I still had my clothes on and my sweater was twisted around me. My journal was

on the bed and a box of tissue was right next to my head. Reaching awkwardly across the bed I rummaged for the phone. “Hullo.”

            My old friend and mentor’s chipper voice resonated over the line like he’d been awake for hours. “Good morning, Partner. Sounds like I woke you up.”

            I leaned on my forearm. “George! Where are you? Do you know its five-thirty?” I yawned. “Of course you do. You woke me up.” Shaking my head, I tried to make sense of what I was saying.

            “Partner, rise and shine. You have some learning to do,” he said.

            “So where are you? What time zone are you in?”

            He chuckled, “I’m in Incline Village. Do you know where that is?”

            I bolted straight up in bed. “Are you really in Tahoe?”

            “I really am. I had a meeting with a new client here. I decided to take another day before flying back home to Oklahoma and knew it was time for us to talk.”

            I squealed, “George, you’re here and I need you! How do you always know to show up at the right time?”

            “You know when you know, Donna,” he said gently.

            My throat tightened and I managed to say, “I’m in nose dive mode...again.”

            “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I decided to stay an extra day. See Donna, it’s time.”

            “Time, what do you mean time? For what?” I asked.

            “I promised that when the time was right I would teach you the gift of intuition. Today is the day.”

            “But George,” I protested. “Today is not a good day. I feel like…”

            He interrupted, “You feel like you have nothing left. That’s why it is the perfect day, because you are willing to listen and change. Your walls of resistance are down.”

            “But, you don’t…”

            “No buts, Partner, here’s my idea. You’ve been lecturing me about crawdad fishing for years. Let’s do that first thing and then we’ll talk. I’m at the Hyatt , so come pick me up with some hot coffee.”

            “I’m barely awake, but I’m moving now,” I said as I stood up.

            “By the time you get here, you’ll be wide awake. How long?”

            “Give me thirty minutes, George, and I’ll be out in front of the hotel with your blooming black coffee.”