Ain’t Love Grand?

By

Dana Taylor

$2.99

Amazon & Smashwords

The Healer vs. the Lawyer. Energy healer, Persephone Jones, has a new neighbor in Peeler, Oklahoma—hot shot lawyer, Jason Brooks.  She’s a vegan; he likes his steaks rare. She’s about saving Mother Earth while he protects the interests of Big Business. Their attraction is mutual, but disturbing. And life gets even more complicated when the whole town is caught in a conflict that pits these two on opposite sides of a political fence.

The Healing Scene

The set-up: Perse has answered an emergency call from Jason to help his daughter, Val, who has fallen ill.

Val slept peacefully. I changed the ingredients in the diffuser to oils with more medicinal value, and then kneeled beside her bed. She lay on her side, hands tucked under her face, breathing deeply. Fever radiated from her body. That was okay. Her body was fighting the invading virus.

I placed my hands over her head and closed my eyes, visualizing a great white light opening from the heavens, beaming through my body, out my hands and into her being. A transference of healing energy. A familiar buzzy sensation began in the top of my brain similar to the initial feelings induced by a glass of wine on an empty stomach, a peaceful relaxation. Unlike inebriation, this opening of spiritual power brought a heightened sense of awareness and a connection with the surrounding elements.

Right now, my concentration was fully on Val’s slumbering figure, and I fell into a passive state of healing mediator as the force from above used me as a conduit for healing electricity. My hands warmed, vibrating with unseen wattage, traveling over her body, guided by unknown forces. My throat constricted and I could see her inflamed tonsils in my mind’s eye, infected and pulsating with pain. Power increased in my hands and I envisioned her neck bathed in a white light that brought down the inflammation and washed away the infection.

Next, an image of her blood came to mind. A war raged in her bloodstream, causing the external discomfort and fatigue she felt. Once again the power increased and I moved my hands over the length of her body, releasing healing forces to overcome the attacking virus. As our energy fields mingled, Val and I united, joined together by a supernatural bond. An overwhelming feeling of love enveloped me. Her pain and illness diminished under the power of healing love.

Moments like these brought the stark reality that parts of the witch accusation were true. My abilities as a healer went beyond knowledge of herbs, oils, remedies and traditions. When I allowed myself to open to unseen forces, something supernatural came into play. I liked to think it was the healing power of Christ, but I really didn’t know. I just knew that I sometimes tapped into something beyond myself, beyond earthly constraints of time and logic.

This, of course, was why the rumors persisted, perpetuated by the clients who benefited from the healing energy. I told them it was merely the result of therapeutic massage, but they knew it was more. An outside spiritual force had touched them.

Once in a while I worked with someone carrying a lot of negative memories. Sometimes our healing sessions revealed deep-seated emotional scars at the root of a physical problem. My ability to ‘know’ certain private matters proved often startling. The witch stories arose from those spiritually charged moments.

Maybe I was a witch of sorts, but I rebelled at the old crone image, stirring eye of newt into a boiling cauldron, consorting with the devil. Perhaps witches throughout the centuries had just gotten a bad rap, maligned by the ignorant masses. I didn’t know. I just knew that sometimes I was used to bring about a healing that goes beyond any kind of conventional wisdom.

Val stirred, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes. I smiled at her. “How you doin?”

“Thirsty,” she rasped.

I poured a drink of water and watched her struggle into a sitting position. She gulped the liquid too fast and I pulled the glass away from her.

“Hold on. You need to take it easy,” I said, brushing wisps of hair from her face. The glow of love from our healing session still pulsed through me.

Her softened smile reflected her unconscious response to our prayer time. “I think I’m better…my mom is gone, isn’t she?”

I nodded. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

She stared off, too tired to deal with another desertion. “At least you’re here. You won’t leave, will you?”

I didn’t say anything, just smiled.

Leaving was getting harder and harder.