Page 11 of Finding Lord Landry

Then, I stepped up to the reception desk to begin my “journey inward.” The sign was right. My mind, heart, and spirit deserved this time of undivided attention.

Fuck undivided attention. I’d only made it two weeks before I was going out of my mind from all of this undivided attention and fucking meditation.

I’d tried my hardest to let go, to teach myself that my own mind-body connection was what mattered and that the connection to others was secondary. But I craved connection to my life, to my family, to the Brotherhood, to… well, to anything that wasn’t cold-pressed juice “rich with antioxidants,” mindful reflection, and picture-perfect serenity.

“Kenji! I thought you were at a monastery in Borneo,” my grandmother said with a laugh when she picked up the phone.

I smiled. “Wrong continent, Baa Baa. You’re probably thinking of Mom and Dad. Aren’t they cruising around Southeast Asia until April?”

“Sothey’rethe ones in Borneo?” Another peal of laughter was followed by atsking sigh. “Who can keep up? For two people who never took a vacation their whole lives, they sure get around. And so do you, come to think of it.”

She wasn’t wrong. After decades of frugality and scrimping to make ends meet, my parents had finally retired five years ago, and my father had been determined to enjoy every single day of his retirement. They’d been cruising nearly continuously since then and loved every minute of it.

I couldn’t talk, since I traveled constantly while working for the Brotherhood.

“I’m at a retreat off the coast of Ecuador,” I reminded her. “In a tiny island country called San Cordova. And it’s a luxury resort for Westerners, complete with Wi-Fi and coffee pods in the room?—”

“Oh, that’s right! You were supposed to be silent for a month.”

I let out a breath. “Notsilent, but…”

“Not working on your computer?” she teased. I could hear the smile in her voice.

“No.”

“And so.”

It was so like her, that expression. I grinned. “And so. I realized I missed my Baa Baa. How are things in Boca?”

Instead of interrogating me, she went on to give me all the hot goss from her retirement community. It reminded me of the way she used to catch me up on her soap operas when I had to go back to school in the fall after watching them with her all summer long. And the stories were just as outlandish.

I leaned back in the hammock on my terrace and let the familiar cadence of her voice wash over me. When her update finally wound down, there was comfortable silence for a beat.

“You know,” she began gently. “I’ve been reading that book you gave me at Christmas. I read a very interesting part the other day. Let me find it… ah, here it is.Mindfulness is a powerful tool, but it is not the only tool. Sometimes, the heart calls for connection.”

“You made that up,” I said with a surprised laugh. While it was true I’d included a book of Chaska’s wisdom in her holiday gift package, I knew without a shadow of a doubt she wouldn’t have cracked it open and actually read it.

“It sounds like him, though, doesn’t it?” she snickered. “And maybe it’s something he’d say. He’s there with you. You could ask him.”

I let out a breath and lowered my voice in case anyone’s terrace was too close to mine. “He’s here, but he’s not…” I tried to think of a respectful way of saying it. “He’s a bit impressed with himself.”

The man was as magnetic in person as I’d envisioned, but he was also, surprisingly, a conspicuous consumer. “He wears a Prada cross-body bag,” I admitted in a whisper.

The sound of her tittering laughter made me laugh, too.

“Oh, honeybunch,” she said affectionately. “Not all life lessons are easy ones.”

“What lesson am I supposed to learn from this? Because the only one that keeps coming to mind is that I’m an unrepentant workaholic. I tried repenting, but it didn’t take. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Did it ever occur to you that Chaska himself might be enjoying life in moderation rather than attempting extremes? No vow of silence. No vow of poverty. Simply… taking time out to reflect and be intentional. Perhaps you can take a lesson from him and check your email periodically. In moderation.”

The idea of checking my email gave my heart a little jolt of excitement. “You think?”

“We all have our security blankets,” she teased. “Maybe for you, it’s not a Prada bag but your spreadsheets.”

After ending the call with Baa Baa, I moved back into the room and allowed myself to start up my laptop and check my email. Unfortunately, a type A workaholic had put someone else in charge of the damned thing for the month, and everything seemed to be in order. There were absolutely no fires to put out.

The idea that someone else had been able to take over for me without turning everything into a chaotic nightmare was… depressing as fuck.

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