Kate respected the philosophies her parents raised her with but hadn’t dealt easily with combining the real world she craved with her mother’s cringe-worthy ideals. Arilyn, of course, adored her and said Madeline was the last great hippie left in New York.
Kate shrugged out of her coat and eased onto a purple-seated cushioned chair. The Buddha statue dominated the room, with wildly painted murals on the wall to inspire relaxation and flow. “No, thanks. Sobriety is a goal of mine.”
Her mother floated across the room and settled on a plump gold cushion on the floor. She hit the Remote button and the sounds of chanting monks cut abruptly off. “I just finished my yoga practice and decided to meditate before my client tonight. He’s having some problems with impotency, and I thought we’d try some controversial methods. I need clarity beforehand.”
Even after all these years, knowing her mother was a sex therapist still had the same affect. Sheer discomfort. Then guilt. Who wanted to think of a parent having sex, let alone with a bunch of strangers in order to help them? Besides not being able to speak clearly, she grew up trying to hide her mother’s occupation from the world. “TMI, Mom,” she said.
“Sorry, dear. Now, what brings you? It’s been a while.”
Kate squirmed. “I’m sorry; I’ve been so busy with Kinnections. Are you okay out here? You’d tell me if you needed anything, right?”
Madeline smiled. In her late fifties, her face glowed like a younger woman’s, unlined, smooth as glass, soft as butter. Deep blue eyes lit up her face, reminding Kate of Michelle Pfeiffer, a beautiful presence most people couldn’t stand to look away from. “I’m fine. Seeing someone new who’s wonderful and making me happy. Are you having sex, dear?”
Kate sighed. “Sure, Mom. I’m having lots of sex, thanks for asking.”
“Don’t lie. You’re so stopped up with emotion my skin is tingling. How many times have I told you a good orgasm is a release of toxins in both the body and mind? Did you get the vibrator I sent you last week?”
This was so not happening. No wonder she never visited. Kate fought for calm. “I got it. There are so many speeds and buttons it’s taking me a while to go through the instruction manual. Umm, can we focus here?”
“Of course. Tell me the problem.”
“I j-j-just had a few questions. About Dad. About the touch.”
Madeline nodded in encouragement. “You can ask me anything. You know how much I loved your father and I’d never hide anything from you.”
Yes. How many times had she prayed to not know certain information? Sometimes she felt as if she was born into a family she never understood or identified with until the touch had visited her and she realized she was blood. She was only fourteen when her father passed from a heart attack, and she’d been enraged at her mother’s ability to move on. Until she came to understand later that it was the only way Madeline knew how to cope with the loss of her soul mate. The other men were mere distractions in a world that had seeped color and a desperate attempt to fill a void only her father managed to soothe.
For one strange instant, an image of Slade drifted past her vision. What was one of the requirements on his list for his perfect woman?
No embarrassing family secrets.
Good God, he’d go screaming for the hills of The Sound of Music if he got one good look at her mother and heard her history. And why the hell was she thinking of him again anyway? His date with Hannah tonight would be perfect. She’d left him a polite voicemail message asking if he needed any advice or support and he never got back to her. Obviously, he had everything under control. She just hoped he didn’t break her ironclad rules and try to seduce Hannah.
“Kate? You said you had questions?”
She dragged herself back to the present and swore she wouldn’t think about Slade Montgomery again. Ever. For real. “I know you used to tell me about how you connected with Dad immediately on contact. But now I want to hear specifics. Was it a gut feeling? Did you get dizzy? Or did your skin tingle?”
Madeline smiled with the memory. “Oh, no, it was much more intense than that. Your father and I went to shake hands and an electrical shock jolted us immediately. It was the strangest thing—almost like I stuck a wet finger in a socket. Benjamin Franklin’s famous kite had nothing on us.”
Shit.
Kate tucked her hair behind her ear and studied the whirling patterns of the bamboo floor. Just a coincidence. “After the shock, did you get a sense he was meant for you? Or was it just a physical chemistry?”
“Sure, it was sexual, but that type of buzz comes once in a lifetime. It always has for our family. Your grandmother experienced the same symptoms with your grandfather, and so on, dating back for generations. Don’t worry, darling, when you feel it you’ll know. There’s no possibility of denying it. And when you do, it is literally the most earth-shattering sex you have ever experienced.”
Kate ignored her own crazy staccato heartbeat and dove straight in. “It happened to me.”
Madeline stared at her, eyes wide. Her voice dropped to an intimate whisper. “You met the one?”
No way.
Kate jumped to her feet and paced. She’d never wanted a joint so bad in her whole frickin’ life. Kennedy would have a field day with this one. “No, that’s the problem. He’s not the one. So not the one. But I think it means something else that we missed. He’s a client at Kinnections, and I think I’m meant to find him his soul mate. I’m convinced it’s a weird third-party factor misfire.”
For the first time in years, she caught a seriousness to her mother’s face that caused her gut to free-fall. Why had she thought this would be simple? A quick explanation, an easy visit, and a return to her normal life? “There’s never a mistake with the touch,” Madeline stated firmly. “I know you’ve fought me on this, but it will be easier if you accept that this man is meant for you. What’s wrong with him? Why do you think he couldn’t be your match?”
“B-b-b-because he’s everything I don’t want!” The nerves rose up and choked her, strangling the free flow of words she needed as desperately as air. Kate took a breath, pictured the blank screen, and heard the faint sound of music to soften her syllables. When she spoke again, she had calmed. “He’s not right for me. Once someone in our family experiences the touch, what happens if the person denies it? Or what if it’s wrong? Has that ever happened?”