She stared into his lavender eyes, unable to hide her anxiety. It had taken years to drive thoughts of Max from her mind and banish his image from her dreams. Not that she’d actually ever succeeded. “Close your eyes,” Bertrom instructed. “Don’t resist the past’s pull. Allow your mind to flow where it will.” His hands squeezed hers with gentle reassurance as she obeyed. The spa was quiet. Jasmine and setrine flowers lightly scented the air. With predictable accuracy her mind returned to the center of the conflict, to the place where it all began. “Tell me what you’re seeing. You’ve not yet allowed me deep enough to share your memories.” She started to pull back, to abandon the strange exercise, but Bertrom pressed her hands between his palms and pushed tingling warmth up her arms. “Don’t retreat. I can sense your emotions. They are raw and convoluted. You are so angry and yet so hurt. How were these feelings unleashed?” Relaxing into the metaphysical flow, she drifted through events, connected to yet separate from them.
