working in a smaller capacity.”
Papa hooked me around the waist and hauled me over to his side and kissed my cheek. “Thanks, pumpkin. See, Sandy, even the doctor said so!”
Nana sighed. “Amber, I really wish you wouldn’t back his neuroses with scientific studies.” She shook her head and placed her hands on her hips.
“Sorry, Nana, but it’s true. There are a lot of statistics about it…” I tried to continue, but Papa put a hand over my mouth.
“That’s enough. Let your nana pout in peace. Come on into the den and tell your grandpa about your day.”
I followed Papa into his den, one of my favorite places in the entire world. Almost every inch of it was filled from floor to ceiling with dark mahogany bookcases, all loaded with books. My grandfather was a voracious reader and passed down the trait to me. He liked it all. Fiction, nonfiction, biographies, historicals, periodicals. You name it. If it was in the written word, he’d read it. He always said to me, “Knowledge is power, pumpkin. Be smarter than you need to be to get by, and you’ll do well in life.” I took it to heart, and it’s been sound advice.
“So, I ran into Vivvie outside. She looked as pretty and as plump as can be.” He chuckled, sat in his recliner, and then propped the footrest up.
I sat down on the squishy chaise opposite his and curled up into a ball. “Don’t tell her she’s plump. She’ll end up crying for days.”
He nodded. “Pregnancy hormones. I remember those but would rather forget ’em, if you know what I mean.”
I grinned. “Got you.”
“Funny thing. She mentioned you’re helping the instructor for the Tantric yoga class. Gotta say, pumpkin, I was a bit surprised by that.” He furrowed his eyebrows, and two lines appeared between them, a sure sign of his tension regarding the subject.
If there was a way to beam myself up into my room and away from this conversation, I would have. “Papa, it’s not what you think.”
His hair had whitened long before he hit his late sixties but shone a startling white that looked distinguished on him. My grandmother, on the other hand, kept up her dark hair by way of bimonthly visits to Genevieve’s in-home salon.
He opened his eyes wide, adjusted his glasses on his face, and with a quickness I didn’t expect, hooked the footrest back down and propelled up and out of his chair like a man on a mission. He went over to one of the bookshelves and skimmed the titles with a finger. “Ah, there it is.” He pulled out a book and started flipping through it. “Whelp, pumpkin, if you’re going to assist in this class, you should probably read up on it. A man who claimed to be a healer gave me this book when I was doing a tour in Asia. It was so long ago I don’t remember all the ins and outs, but Tantra is a very sacred practice and largely based on uniting with your partner. As you know, that’s not what we’ve taught you in this house or in the eyes of the Church, but you know what I always say…”
“Knowledge is power…I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”
“Now that trait you got from me.”
Chapter Five
The inner state of the sacral chakra is tears. If this is your chakra and it is well balanced, tears may come easy for you. It is likely you are an emotionally-driven person who searches out intimacy, connection, and a mate that matches your intense passionate desires in all things.
AMBER
T he auditorium was huge for such a small number of people. At least two hundred chairs were available, yet the sixteen students in the program huddled in the center seats. Eager minds with a thirst for knowledge. The room smelled of old parchment paper, like walking through the aisles of the county library—a tad musty, yet intriguing. I made my way down the steps to the middle section and sat next to a dark-haired guy furiously tapping on a tablet. Trying not to bother Mr. Tappy, I laid my backpack on the floor and dug out a
Papa hooked me around the waist and hauled me over to his side and kissed my cheek. “Thanks, pumpkin. See, Sandy, even the doctor said so!”
Nana sighed. “Amber, I really wish you wouldn’t back his neuroses with scientific studies.” She shook her head and placed her hands on her hips.
“Sorry, Nana, but it’s true. There are a lot of statistics about it…” I tried to continue, but Papa put a hand over my mouth.
“That’s enough. Let your nana pout in peace. Come on into the den and tell your grandpa about your day.”
I followed Papa into his den, one of my favorite places in the entire world. Almost every inch of it was filled from floor to ceiling with dark mahogany bookcases, all loaded with books. My grandfather was a voracious reader and passed down the trait to me. He liked it all. Fiction, nonfiction, biographies, historicals, periodicals. You name it. If it was in the written word, he’d read it. He always said to me, “Knowledge is power, pumpkin. Be smarter than you need to be to get by, and you’ll do well in life.” I took it to heart, and it’s been sound advice.
“So, I ran into Vivvie outside. She looked as pretty and as plump as can be.” He chuckled, sat in his recliner, and then propped the footrest up.
I sat down on the squishy chaise opposite his and curled up into a ball. “Don’t tell her she’s plump. She’ll end up crying for days.”
He nodded. “Pregnancy hormones. I remember those but would rather forget ’em, if you know what I mean.”
I grinned. “Got you.”
“Funny thing. She mentioned you’re helping the instructor for the Tantric yoga class. Gotta say, pumpkin, I was a bit surprised by that.” He furrowed his eyebrows, and two lines appeared between them, a sure sign of his tension regarding the subject.
If there was a way to beam myself up into my room and away from this conversation, I would have. “Papa, it’s not what you think.”
His hair had whitened long before he hit his late sixties but shone a startling white that looked distinguished on him. My grandmother, on the other hand, kept up her dark hair by way of bimonthly visits to Genevieve’s in-home salon.
He opened his eyes wide, adjusted his glasses on his face, and with a quickness I didn’t expect, hooked the footrest back down and propelled up and out of his chair like a man on a mission. He went over to one of the bookshelves and skimmed the titles with a finger. “Ah, there it is.” He pulled out a book and started flipping through it. “Whelp, pumpkin, if you’re going to assist in this class, you should probably read up on it. A man who claimed to be a healer gave me this book when I was doing a tour in Asia. It was so long ago I don’t remember all the ins and outs, but Tantra is a very sacred practice and largely based on uniting with your partner. As you know, that’s not what we’ve taught you in this house or in the eyes of the Church, but you know what I always say…”
“Knowledge is power…I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”
“Now that trait you got from me.”
Chapter Five
The inner state of the sacral chakra is tears. If this is your chakra and it is well balanced, tears may come easy for you. It is likely you are an emotionally-driven person who searches out intimacy, connection, and a mate that matches your intense passionate desires in all things.
AMBER
T he auditorium was huge for such a small number of people. At least two hundred chairs were available, yet the sixteen students in the program huddled in the center seats. Eager minds with a thirst for knowledge. The room smelled of old parchment paper, like walking through the aisles of the county library—a tad musty, yet intriguing. I made my way down the steps to the middle section and sat next to a dark-haired guy furiously tapping on a tablet. Trying not to bother Mr. Tappy, I laid my backpack on the floor and dug out a
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