“Feel your chest and stomach rise gently as you breathe.”
Wrench realized that one of the old woman’s eyes was cracked open and she was surreptitiously watching him. He was glad that he’d chosen to wear his mirrored sunglasses, masking his own covert observations. Old habits were sometimes the best. There was danger everywhere.
“Inhale, exhale.” Lydia’s voice was slow and hypnotic. “You are in a safe, restful place.”
Just as Wrench was wondering if she didn’t sound just the tiniest bit pointed, he heard her in his head, I always know where you are.
Wrench bit back a disruptive cough and murmured a gruff, unintelligible apology as he cleared his throat.
One of the girls giggled slightly and the old woman gave a slight disapproving noise.
“Inhale, exhale,” Lydia continued serenely. “Thoughts come and pass through and
we return to our breathing.”
After a few more moments of slow, rhythmic words, Lydia said, “Now let’s enjoy ten minutes of silent meditation. Continue to concentrate on your breathing, inhale and count one, exhale and count, one.”
Wrench watched her press a button on her phone through one cracked eyelid and then she was quiet.
He was more distracted by the sound of everyone else’s breath than his own. The blonde breathed like a metronome. The maybe-mink shifter had a distinct hiss to her breath that made Wrench’s shoulder blades tighten. The book-reader almost hummed.
The drone of insects and the distant surf rose up over those close noises, and Wrench could hear the erratic munching of the gazelle across the lawn.
Ten minutes was an eternity, an endless chasm of space and not-quite-silence that Wrench wasn’t sure he was going to make it through without fidgeting, and then abruptly Lydia’s phone was giving a low chime to end the session. He wasn’t even sure what he’d been thinking about, at the end of it.
“Let your body come awake again slowly, and continue to inhale and exhale rhythmically.” Lydia’s voice was gentle and quiet. “Wiggle your fingers and toes, then your arms and legs. Inhale, exhale. Roll your shoulders back, think about your posture and let your head fall forward and then roll up slowly as you inhale, and exhale.”
Wrench followed along, feeling foolish and awkward as blood returned to starved places.
“Take this peace with you on your day,” Lydia said in ending. “Namaste.”
“Namaste,” the others chorused back.
Not expecting the reply, Wrench mumbled his own echo too late, as quietly as possible, but it was masked in the chatter and noise of the women rising to their feet and gathering their things.
Wrench remained seated with Lydia as the others left.
“You did well,” Lydia said with a smile.
“Easier than dancing,” Wrench said gruffly. The session had not dulled his senses, and he was keenly aware that the gazelle was grazing in their direction, though she was pointedly not quite facing them.
“You’re picking that up fine, too,” Lydia assured him. “You won’t embarrass yourself at the dance tomorrow.”
Wrench groaned. “Can’t you say I’m still a danger to bystanders and tell Scarlet I shouldn’t be allowed to come? I’m still… ah, weak? Ow, my snakebite.”
Lydia’s laughter was soft and gentle. “Be grateful she won’t make you trot once around with all the female guests without partners.”
“Doesn’t someone else need to stay behind with Ally?” Wrench said desperately.
“Graham is going to stay with her; he’s never at the dances and even Scarlet believes he could protect her. She is immune, besides.”
Wrench shrugged, sensing the trap closing.
He was saved having to answer by the cautious approach of Gizelle, who, to the astonishment of both of them, went straight up to Wrench and pressed a velvety nose against his shoulder.
“Won’t you join us?” Lydia asked softly.
The gazelle flicked expressive ears at her, then sighed, stepped back, and shifted into a skinny, wild-haired girl. She raised dark eyes, not to Lydia, but to Wrench, and he realized that she was not a girl at all, despite her slight form. “You brought a child here,” she said achingly.