Page 82 of Uncharted Desires

Kat followed her outside to her front porch swing and sat down next to her. It was her grandmother’s favorite spot to sit and pray.

While Kat was not one for any kind of religion, she had been to the powwows and various ceremonies where she had seen them light the sweetgrass to signify the beginning of the ceremony, to invite the positive spirits in. A ceremonial act that was sacred for her people. The same ritual was used by families before prayer to invite the good spirits into their homes so that they would hear their prayers. While Kat didn’t fully believe in a great creator in the sky, she did believe in energies, and she’d take all the good energy she could get.

Her grandmother lit one end of the sweetgrass braid, and they sat in silence as the smoke swirled around them. Kat inhaled the smoke; the grass let off a sweet vanilla scent that made her instantly calm. She remembered the times, before she had left for UCLA, when her grandmother would take her to the powwows and she would sit and listen to the elders tell the stories of her ancestors, of the battles they fought, of the worlds they discovered, of the spirits they danced with. She would dream of being one of the spirits dancing through the wind, the natural music that nature created.

Music was a part of her, just as it was a part of nature and a part of her people. Music told stories of heartbreak and love, of sorrow and success. Music, at one time, had been Kat’s great love, and somewhere along the way she had grown disillusioned by it all, she had lost her passion.

Her mind was transported to West. She saw his face as clearly as if he was standing right next to her. He was reaching out to her, smiling as she grabbed his hand, and she was transported back to dancing with him on the beach on their island. It was just them. No snakebites, no evil drug dealers, just the sunshine, the lapping ocean, and the wind whispering through trees.

He was holding her in his arms while she hummed the tune she’d been thinking about as they slowly danced on the soft sand. Women appeared around them, and though Kat looked at them, West’s eyes never left her. He only looked at her, she was the only woman on that beach. The other women disappeared, and Kat leaned up to kiss him but . . .

She blinked and West was gone. She cried out for him, but he had been replaced by a piano. She heard her grandmother in the background. “Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the wind, whose breath gives life to all the world, guide our Katrina to see her path.”

Kat looked at the keys on the piano in front of her. She played one note, and then the next, and then, as if a great flood had been released, the tune unleashed itself. She felt the music flow from her fingertips as it circled around her in time with the waves and wind. The ceremonial drumbeat of nature played in her head. She didn’t know how long she played for, but note after note poured forth from her soul. The sun rose and set as she played, and suddenly the beach was full of others like her. Women and girls, some who looked like her, some who didn’t, all singing along to the sounds of her piano and nature.

“Katrina?”

Her grandma called her name, as the scent of the sweetgrass faded away.

“Katrina, what did you see?”

She opened her eyes, looking at the weathered face of her grandmother, her eyes still as sharp and assessing as ever.

“I think I saw what I need to do next.” She wiggled off the porch swing. “Thanks, Grandma.” Kat bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek before turning to walk down the stairs.

“And what are you going to do?” her grandma called after her.

“I’m going back to Bali!” she called over her shoulder, a smile on her face—the first she’d had in over a month.

Twenty Three

Two Months Later

Nerves rattled around in her stomach as she stood in the car pickup lane of LAX waiting for her ride. After disappearing for almost two months, Kat knew she had some tough conversations ahead of her and no idea how to address them. The first was to the vivacious blonde and spastic redhead who pulled up in the yellow convertible in front of her.

“You rented a convertible? A bit cliché for L.A., don’t you think?” Kat said, laughing as she threw her luggage in the tiny trunk.

“Not at all,” Lydia said. “It’s perfect for our girls’ weekend!”

Kat had missed her friends more than she realized, and was happy to see them, smiling brightly as she jumped in the front seat Lydia had just vacated.

Cher hit the gas, and they took off down the turnpike. The air was warm for December, but it was southern California after all.

“So . . .” Cher started. “Tell us all about Bali!”

“I’d rather talk about you two. How’s the Beckett Moss show going? I can’t believe this is your last weekend of freedom for the next six months!”

Lydia sighed in the backseat. “And you thought West was bad. That man is ridiculously exacting, arrogant, overpowering, and exhausting. We’ve done twelve-hour practices for weeks.”

Kat looked over at Cher. “Is she being dramatic?”

“For once, no. My feet bled so bad after the first week of rehearsals, I’m not sure I’ll ever walk the same again.”

“God, why are you two still doing it?”

Lydia shrugged, the sound of her gum popping in the backseat. “Money at this point. We’re making almost two years salary compared to what we made with West.”

Kat let out a long whistle at that.