Love & The Goddess Read Online Free Page A

heavy dark-stained doors surrounded by bevelled wooden architraves formed part of a continuous curved wall, cleverly devoid of sharp corners. I led the way down the
blue-carpeted stairway to the lower ground floor. James followed, stroking the polished mahogany balustrade of the staircase which snaked around all four floors like one huge serpent. “The
Church didn’t spare any expense.”
    “Seems not. We bought the apartment from a developer before prices went sky high in the boom years, but we’ve had problems renting it lately – a sign of the times.” I
turned the key in number two. The entire apartment was drenched in light, pouring in through the large casement windows, their shutters opened wide. I stepped over a CD player on my way into the
living room. “Mind you don’t trip over any of the crates.”
    He wasn’t listening – oohing and aahing, he was taking in the high ceilings, wooden floors and original wainscoting. The day before I had scoured the local Oxfam shop for a patterned
floor rug and two throws to cover the sorry-looking sofa. In shades of sapphire, amethyst and jade, they co-coordinated well with a curved Tibetan wall unit and the teardrop central light which
tinkled like an earring in the breeze. I’d stumbled over the cabinet in an auction room and fallen in love with it immediately.
    “This is a good move for you, Kate. I feel like I’m in Ali Baba’s den.” James threw himself down on the sofa, his camouflage jacket clashing wildly with the throw.
    “I’ve always loved tales of the Arabian Knights,” I said.
    He pushed back a length of light brown hair as he looked approvingly around the room. His green eyes were set wide on either side of a slightly crooked nose, broken during his binge-drinking
years. It was eleven years since he’d quit and entered a twelve-step program. He raised one quizzical eyebrow at the wooden figure sitting on one of two deep window sills. “Is that the
carving from that Indian reservation you’re always on about? Who is he?”
    “Kokopelli. He plays his magic flute, which stands for creativity. Maybe he’ll inspire me to finally write the cookery book I’ve always been promising to start. God knows,
I’ve invented enough recipes to fill ten books. You have too. We could do one together.”
    “I should have known who he was – I’m the one heading off on a Shamanic trip. I could do with some inspiration to get my creative mojo back, but I’ll leave the writing
side of things to you. Here…” He pulled a book out of his jacket and handed it to me.
    I studied the well-worn cover, stifled a half laugh. “ When Things Fall Apart … a depressing yet appropriate title.”
    “It got me through some tough times, Kate. The woman who wrote it got her life together after her husband left her. Do you know the Chinese word for crisis also means
opportunity?”
    “I could have done without this opportunity, thank you very much.”
    “Don’t be cynical, Kate. It’s a positive way of looking at your situation. Think of it as an opportunity for self discovery. Speaking of which, I see you’ve finally found
the guts to bring out that picture you like so much.” He nodded at the Goddess propped against the wall. He had been with me on the day that I’d bought it.
    “I know. Who’d have thought it would spend five years hiding in the back of a cupboard? I’ll have to get you to hang it up for me.”
    “I won’t do a single thing for you until you promise me you’ll join me in Peru. You were full of excuses before. Now your time is your own.”
    I smiled a wry, sad smile, “You’re right. For the first time in my life I can do whatever I want. When will you be there?”
    “I’ll have finished my three-week stint cheffing in Club Med Mexico by the end of July. We could meet up in Cusco early August.”
    I nodded slowly. Cusco. It sounded fabulous. But it was a big step heading off on my own – even if I was meeting James. “I know