Chapter 1

Chapter One

River

BIRDS FLIT FROM TREE to tree as though leading me down Tripp Lake’s Main Street. The sun beams down on my little Washington State town, feeding the flowers unfurling their petals and the trees reaching their leaves toward the clear blue sky. Shops line either side of the sleepy street until they disperse to allow space for homes and apartments. Towering trees trip down the hillsides to swallow up the edges of the town, hugging Tripp Lake in their bristling arms.

I adore this place, especially when winter thaws into spring and the whole place bursts with new life. The air smells like green, growing things, even here in the very heart of town. The breeze that snakes through my hair carries with it the promise of warm, sunny days ahead.

My aura is positively shining today.

I don’t have to be able to see it in order to feel it. My heart is light as I skip down the street to the door of Rainbow Rescue Cat Café.

“Greetings on this most wondrous of days,” I say as I enter through the two doors in a row that block the entrance.

The design is intended to keep the cats inside the café safe. And it’s certainly needed. Several of the curious little critters patter up to me and wind between my ankles when I step into the store.

“Ah, it smells great in here,” I say.

“It smells the way it always smells.”

The man grumbling and grimacing behind the coffee bar is Cameron, one of my co-workers. His aura is usually a cloud of black and gray, but lately yellow and orange shoot through it, which undermines his attempts at pessimism.

I smile at him, undeterred by his grouching. That aura is too bright for him to lie his way through it. I know he’s been happy ever since he started living with his boyfriend. He’s just used to being the grumpy guy. It’s a shield, a mask. It makes him feel safe, and for that reason alone, I’ll allow him his self-deception.

“Good morning, Cameron,” I say. “You’re looking well today.”

“It’s past noon,” he drawls.

“Morning is a state of mind,” I say, tapping at my temple.

Cameron rolls his dark eyes and goes back to cleaning mugs. He’ll need all the cups he can get in a little over an hour. I’m leading a yoga class here, and most of my customers will flood the coffee bar as soon as class is over.

“Well, I’ll see you later, Cameron,” I say. “I’m so glad to be working with you today.”

“Whatever, man.”

Cameron doesn’t look up at me, but I don’t mind. I know he likes me. Cameron isn’t the sort of person who tolerates people he doesn’t like. He’s refreshingly blunt with his emotions, a trait far too few people share. Most of us instead walk around bottling up every thought and feeling, presenting only the ones we deem safe and correct. People could learn a lot from a guy like Cameron who is so authentically himself.

Hm, perhaps that will be the theme of class today. I ponder it as I head for the staff room at the back of the café. It’s not truly a staff room. When I open the door and slip into the cramped room, I find several litter boxes for the cats, as well as cabinets for their medications and things. We also keep stuff like adoption paperwork back here. All of our cats are rescues, and all of them are up for adoption. We do as much as we can to find these sweet creatures safe and loving homes.

In fact, we just got a few new arrivals this week. Hopefully they’ve settled in and won’t mind my yoga class. It takes up a lot of space, but most of the cats either watch from high up in a cat tree or take the opportunity to climb all over my students (I often struggle to determine if the cats or the people are having more fun with that).

I store my fruit and veggie smoothie in the refrigerator and put the fanny pack slung across my chest on the counter. Then I peel off my shirt and dump it on the counter as well. I need to feel free to move during my class, no clothing in the way. I’d remove my leggings as well if I could, but this is still a café; there are some health and safety rules we have to abide.

When I leave the staff room, a furry bundle yowls at me. I bend to pet a tiny orange cat, so small he must still be a kitten. He’s one of the new arrivals. He doesn’t even have a name yet, as far as I know, but I’ve started thinking of him as simply “Orange.” Not just the color of his fur, but the color of a bright, beautiful, joyful aura. He inspires joy in me, so it only seems right to honor him with a name that acknowledges that.

As I pet Orange, he purrs, stumbling in his efforts to butt himself against my hand. I scoop him up, taking him with me as I leave behind the half of the café occupied by the coffee bar and several tables and benches. A massive cat tree like an oak tree growing right through the center of the building separates that side from my side. Several cats already sit perched up in its branches, watching as I pass with Orange cradled in my hands.

The other side of the café is for me. It’s mostly open space, no tables as on the other side of the store. The floor is wood paneling. A bucket sits to one side with several rolled up yoga mats stuffed inside it. Massive windows take up one wall, allowing the sunlight to filter in and spill across the floor.

I set Orange down as I take up a spot on the floor and start stretching. It isn’t about limbering up as much as simply getting in tune with my body and my breathing. This is a beginner class, so while it won’t be physically demanding for me, newcomers can often require more care and guidance. My spirit needs to be ready even more than my body.

I go through a couple breathing exercises, centering my focus on my chest and heart center. Those are the places I’ll need warm and ready in order to guide a fresh crop of students. As my warmth and intention settles there, I let myself attend to a few more worldly concerns. First of all, I need to get this hair out of my way. I enjoy letting it grow long and free, but it can get in my way during class, so I tie up the dyed blue hair into a messy bun at the top of my head. It’s not nearly as long as my co-worker Sebastian’s beautiful raven locks. My hair is a bit wilder and wavier, less tamed and controlled. Even though I tie it back, a couple stray strands tickle my cheeks.

I finish my preparations just in time. Students begin passing the glass windows at the front of the shop. The door opens and closes several times, and I hear Cameron giving people instructions. They filter tentatively past the giant cat tree, looking around nervously until I greet them with a smile and a wave. Already, cats gather in the tree, peering down curiously at the strange new humans invading their space. Little Orange scampers off, small enough to get caught underfoot if he isn’t careful.

“Welcome, welcome,” I say. “Please grab a mat if you don’t have one. You might also want a foam block. If you brought a towel or water, you’re welcome to keep it with you. Set up anywhere you like, but I recommend a sunny spot, personally.”

My greeting puts the nervous newcomers at ease. They spread out before me, some choosing sunny spots as I recommended. Soon enough, people have to take any available spot they can find as the tiny yoga space fills up. I sit on my own mat at the front of the class, scanning the people heading in. It’s good to try to get a vibe for the people I’ll be teaching, the better to facilitate their practice today. I’m not really a teacher here to tell them what to do, more like a guide allowing them to discover the poses and their own bodies on their own.

A man and a woman head in close to the start of class. They take their places in the back corner, the spot farthest from the sun. The woman smiles as she sets out her mat. I recognize her, and give her an acknowledging nod. It seems she’s finally brought the “friend from work” she’s been talking about. Whoever he is, he “desperately needs to relax,” according to Megan.

She has no idea how correct she is about that.

The moment I lay eyes on the man, I have to resist the urge to rush over to him. He’s practically oozing bad vibes, his aura even darker and murkier than Cameron’s was a few months ago. Before Cameron got together with his boyfriend in the fall, he would come in here cloaked in a cloud of negative energy. Some days, I felt like I could hardly make out his face through the shroud.

This new guy might be worse. He sits cross-legged on his mat scowling at everything around him. The cats, the yoga mats, the sun filtering through the window — it all seems to disappoint or disgust him. Beauty surrounds him on every side — he’s taking a yoga class in the middle of the day on a lovely Sunday afternoon — yet all he can see is negatives.

I catch myself staring for a bit too long, but there’s something captivating about the man, something buried under all that hunching and negativity. Beneath the scowl, his lips are full and soft, framed by a tidy, short beard. His hair is neat and dark, his skin smooth and brown. The eyes casting about the café doubtfully are shrewd and deep and thoughtful, and even from a distance I’m sure they contain depths I’d love to explore. But this does not seem like a man who lets anyone near him. Suddenly, I’m shocked Megan managed to drag him here. No wonder she spoke so doubtfully about her reticent coworker.

I resolve on the spot that this class is going to be for him. It must be for him. No one in this room needs this next hour of stretching and mind-body connection quite like him. I can reach him. I will reach him. This is what I do. If I was able to help Cameron as he stumbled through his personal life, I can set this stranger on his path as well.

Besides, he’s beautiful.

I honor that place inside me that recognizes the beauty of other humans. It can be startling and inconvenient at times, such as now, but it’s merely another piece of the human experience. And I don’t want to help him merely because he’s attractive. Plenty of humans are attractive. Not all of them need me quite like this man does.

I stand, and the soft chatter in the room dies. I motion with my hands and everyone rises, watching me as they await my instructions. I am their teacher, their guide, their chaperone through this journey of mind and body and soul. I take my duty very seriously. My family may not, but they aren’t here. They gave up on me long ago.

These folks did not. They believe I can usher them along this path we’ll walk together for the next hour.

I put my hands together.

“Greetings, everyone. Should we begin?”

The man in the back corner scowls. I take a deep breath and greet the sun with a bow.