“It has,” Libby replied through a teary chuckle.
“I noticed that the aquamarine stone didn’t do much to contain your rage the evening we met,” Ida added, but there was mischief twinkling in her eyes.
Libby stroked her thumb across the stone. “I took what you said to mean that I should practice some rage yoga.”
Ida flashed a wry grin. “Well, my dear, you succeeded. I must have watched those astronauts reenacting that video of you throwing the objects at Erasmus Cress a hundred times.”
“That night set quite a bit into motion,” she said, glancing out the window.
“I know, dear. You love him, don’t you?”
She met Ida’s gaze. “Erasmus?”
“And the little boy, too.”
“Sebastian.” She smiled. “Yes, I love them, but it’s complicated.”
Ida nodded. “When Maud told me you and Erasmus were participating in the Ass-in-Nine, I knew that had to be the ripples of your mother’s intention guiding you on your path. Did Bob tell you that the donkeys know?”
“He did.”
“Animals are intuitive,” Ida continued. “They bond with their caregivers, and that bond lasts. It can also bring humans together. I hear you won the race.”
“I did thanks to a butterfly-chasing Jennie named Plum. But my path is a little unclear at the moment,” Libby confessed.
“I see. And how are your brothers?”
“They’re doing well. They’re studying to be doctors.”
“And your father?”
Libby’s heart sank.
“My dad…he’s…”
Ida’s brow wrinkled. “Your mother was most worried about him and how he’d handle her passing.”
“He didn’t handle it well. He still doesn’t handle it well. I sensed him falling apart even when she was still alive. That’s why I promised my mom I’d look out for the boys.”
“Your mother didn’t want the responsibility to fall on your shoulders, but we both saw your aura, Libby. We both sensed a well of strength that flowed within you. It’s in your nature to step up. But don’t count your father out yet. Perhaps the ripples of your mother’s intention haven’t yet reached him. He loved her deeply. He hated that they didn’t learn of her condition earlier—that he didn’t pick up on something ailing her. They had a strong connection. He was devoted to her, but she wasn’t sure what he’d do with that force, that powerful drive, once she was gone.”
“Erasmus is like that, too. His wife, Sebastian’s mother, passed away suddenly, and he blames himself. I thought he’d moved past it. I thought that what we have, or had, would have helped him.”
“This is where transformation plays a part in healing,” Ida replied. “You cannot know love without accepting loss. You can’t heap on a serving of love to smother the pain. It might delay, but it will return. You can only know them together. When you limit one, you restrict the other. It’s the quintessential balance. The yin and yang.”
Libby nodded as Shandra’s words echoed in her mind.
Love is stronger than any force holding you back.
The trick is uncovering what that force holding you back truly is.
It’s not always what you think, but it’s exactly what it needs to be.
She stared into Ida’s eyes as an epiphany took hold.
“I can only move forward with an open heart. A heart that’s willing to take risks. A heart that’s willing to break. Only then will I know love, the kind of love that endures through a lifetime.”
Ida’s eyes shined with emotion. She looked out the window at the crow. The bird was still there. “See, Aurora, she understands. She got your message.”
Libby closed her eyes, pressed her hands to her heart, feeling her mother’s embrace as the indigo energy wrapped her in a blanket of love. They sat quietly for what could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes when a knock at the door pulled them from the trance.
“Is this the class for women going through chemo?” a lady asked, her head wrapped in a pink scarf.
“It is. Go ahead and get yourself a mat. We’ve got a few more participants coming. The class will start shortly,” Ida directed warmly.
Libby came to her feet and pocketed her mother’s stone as the woman did a double take. “You’re the Pun-chi yoga lady, right?”
“Yes, I guess I am,” she answered, taken aback.
The word had really gotten out. Those viral videos were no joke.
“Will we get to do that in this class, too?” the woman asked, directing the question to Ida. “I tried it at home in front of the mirror and felt like a beast,” she finished, tossing out a few jabs.
“I’m sure we can have Libby join us very soon, but she has to be going. She’s meeting two visitors.”
“I am?” Libby asked.
“Yes, and that reminds me. I almost forgot. I found something else of yours,” Ida said, turning to dig in her yoga bag. “I believe this belongs to you. I found it near the box,” the woman finished, holding up a giant indigo-colored vibrator.
“Yeah, that’s mine,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat.
Of all the days not to have her tote with her!
The woman in the headscarf chuckled. “I saw you in that video, too. I hadn’t laughed so hard in ages. And let me tell you,” she continued, “I can use every delightful distraction I can get. I even told my husband he better be on his best behavior, or I might pull a Libby Lamb.”
Libby held up the sex toy and chuckled. “They are remarkably easy to throw. But try not to do it in public. You can get arrested for it.”
More women entered the room, and Ida circulated between them.
Libby started for the door, not wanting to delay the start of class when Ida called to her.
“There should be two women waiting for you outside the center. I told them to meet you here,” Ida rattled off before engaging a trio of ladies.
Who in the world would be waiting for her?
There was no time to ask.
As discreetly as one could, she tucked the vibrator under her arm and walked down the hall. A lightness had taken hold. An almost giddy grace bubbled in her chest. She startled. Oops, that giddy grace was the vibrator. She must have turned it on. She giggled as she left the community center, vibrator in hand, when she spied two women—two young women she recognized.
“Hi, Libby, do you remember us?” a tall blonde asked. She stood next to a petite brunette.
Libby’s jaw dropped. Of course, she remembered them! Her once loopy libido couldn’t have forgotten their sexed-up ladies’ room conversation. She’d nearly combusted from pent-up sexual frustration.
“You’re Cleo and Laney from the bathroom, right?”
“That’s us,” Laney answered brightly.
She glanced between the women, still not sure what the heck they were doing there. “It’s nice to run into you again. Can I help you with something?”
“Oh, Libby,” Laney gushed. “You don’t mind if we call you Libby, do you?”
“It’s my name, so, yeah, Libby works.”
“And look what she’s holding, Laney,” Cleo cooed, staring at the vibrator like it was a newborn baby.