“The fourth chakra, the heart chakra, is important because it is through the heart that our animal nature, the energy of the first three chakras, can be controlled.”

A soft sound rose. Maybe it was a sudden breeze moving through the palm fronds? Or a sigh from the enamored crowd. They were eating this up.

“The fifth chakra is the throat chakra, and we can associate this with self-expression, the need to tell our own story.”

The woman was watching Izzy, almost too intently.

“The sixth chakra is the nexus of love and wisdom, the means by which evil and chaos may be overcome.”

Izzy reflexively put a hand to her belly, where the woman had touched her, and she cringed, trying to push away a wave of the darkness hovering at the periphery of her mind.

◆◆◆

After the class was over, Jeb and the woman approached.

“This is Sky,” Jeb said. “Sky, this is Aurora.”

The scent of flowers mixed with warm resin as Sky put her arms around Izzy, pressing her breasts against Izzy’s chest. Without looking at Dog, Sky patted the top of his head. The animal shrank slightly from the woman’s touch.

“What brings you here?” she said. The combined glow of her unlined skin and white smile had an almost blinding effect.

“I’m looking for this man.” Izzy pulled a flyer from her backpack and showed Sky the paper.

“Handsome. He seems a bit familiar. But we see a lot of people.” Sky met Izzy’s eyes.

Izzy wanted to snatch the flyer back, crumple it in her hand. Why couldn’t she be done with that? Done searching. Done with that handsome face. Done. But she wasn’t. “He went to your retreat. In Desert Hot Springs. With a woman.”

She felt vulnerable, like she’d said too much.

Sky watched Izzy for a moment. Reading her? “I think I understand. I’m so sorry, darling,” she said.

Darling? What a load of crap. You understand nothing, Izzy thought.

Sky glanced at Jeb, who nodded. She turned back to Izzy, “You’ve come to the right place. I’d really like to help you. Your distress is more than understandable. Why don’t you have some food with us and then stay for our little meeting.”

Izzy just wanted to leave.

But then: “Who knows?” Sky said. “He does look slightly familiar. He might show up.”

◆◆◆

Would you like a drink? Barley beer? Date palm wine?” Jeb asked.

They had all moved back into the central courtyard of the house.

A young man with a shaved head and a slightly receding chin appeared holding a tray of drinks. He watched mutely as Izzy took a beer. She sipped it—frothy and fresh.

A buffet—black beans, rice, corn, whole wheat bread loaves, green salad with pomegranates and figs, and individual saffron-colored cakes—was set up on a long table. Izzy, suddenly wildly hungry, heaped a pale-blue ceramic plate with food.

The woman with the tattoo sleeves approached, her son pulling the wheeled wooden pig on a string behind him, and introduced herself as Amanda Flowers. “And this is Kurt John Martin Flowers.” The little boy clung to her leg, and she stroked his head. Izzy imagined blowing on the dandelion flower hair, watching the seedpods becoming wind borne, making a wish. Though she wasn’t sure what she would wish for anymore. For Cyrus to return? For Cyrus never to have left? Or perhaps: to never to have met him? Where would she be then? In Los Angeles with a degree and a job, maybe a family?