The Edge of the Light Read Online Free Page A

“Of course, I haven’t tried it when there’s a rabbit on the lawn,” she admitted. “All dogs sunroom,” she said to the animals. Off they went.
    â€œImpressive,” Becca said.
    â€œThey’re coming along.” Diana wiped her hands on the tail of her flannel shirt. It was overlarge and looked like one of her long dead husband’s. If Diana still had it these nearly thirty years since his death, Becca thought, then her basement was indeed bursting with long forgotten goods.
    â€œWant some help down there?” Becca asked. “We could do that instead of the practice.”
    â€œThe practice is far more important,” Diana told her. “Come along. Let’s get started.” She led the way up the stairs and along a corridor painted in the warm colors of a sunset. They did their practicing in Diana’s bedroom, where an alcove offered two comfortable armchairs, a fireplace, and a view that took in tiny Hat Island and, beyond it at a distance across the water, the city of Everett. This was Diana’s retreat, where she read, relaxed, and meditated. Becca was there to learn a variation of the last: something that was not quite meditation but was instead a way to control what otherwise bombarded her every waking moment.
    She walked to the large bay window. From the start, it had been her preference to sit with the view spreading out before her:Hat Island, Camano Head, the energetic water, houses, distant city lights, the occasional boat. But Diana had not allowed this, instructing her instead to sit with her chair facing the fireplace. Above this, the only distraction was a large pastel of a stairway climbing the side of a barn-red building. Becca knew this place quite well. It was called the Dog House, a tavern that stood on the bluff within Langley village.
    She turned from the window. “Can I try facing the view this time?”
    Diana bent to switch on the gas in the fireplace. She said over her shoulder, “I don’t think you’re ready for that yet. Too many distractions, and at this point you need as few as possible.”
    â€œI want to try it,” Becca said.
    â€œImpatient as always.” But Diana softened the criticism with a smile. “Overcoming impatience is at the core of this process, Becca. Your mind still moves toward
rushing
instead of
being
. Being is the key to unlocking the power.”
    Becca narrowed her eyes. “You’re getting
way
too close to Yoda again, Mrs. Kinsale.”
    Diana laughed. “I hope I’m more attractive. All right, try it if you must.”
    Becca pumped her fist and swung her chair to face the window. She plopped down. “Ready when you are,” she told Diana.
    â€œSettle first,” Diana said. “Breathe. Go deep. Feel the blood coursing. Feel the heart beating.” She waited more than a minute before saying quietly, “Now. Find something in the view to concentrate on.”
    Becca settled her gaze on Hat Island, on one of the houses thatwinked light into the late afternoon darkness. She murmured, “Got it,” and Diana said softly, “There is no world. There is only this. The moment itself, the single point on which your eyes are resting. Begin with the mantra, then slowly let it go.”
    Empty of all there is, there is. Empty of all there is.
    Empty of all there is, there is. Empty of all there is.
    Into the stillness came the unmistakable cry of
an eagle. Following hard upon it came the raucous calling of crows. It was a mass of them from the sound of it. And what was a mass of crows called? You had a gaggle of geese, a pride of lions, a congress of . . . something? Not crows, though. Not a congress of—
    â€œ
Damn
,” Becca muttered.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œI
hate
it when you’re right.” She shoved herself out of the chair and turned it to face the fireplace. “I got caught up in the crows. What’s it called