A Karmic Connection

By Susanne Marie Knight

DÉJÀ VU--Twenty years ago, Elizabeth Williams had two suitors. She chose Allen over Paul. Now she is divorced and starting over with a new location and a new career. But instead of a new love knocking at her door, an old love seems destined to overwhelm her. Elizabeth's path crosses with Paul's, and once again she must make a decision that will change her life.

DÉJÀ WOO-WOO--Doctor Paul Jones, with his feet firmly planted on terra firma, has no patience for metaphysical matters. When a medical conference brings him to the New Age capital of the world, he keeps his distance from anything "woo-woo." But when he's attracted to a woman who insists they'd met before... Paul realizes he needs help--metaphysical help--to show him the way to win his Lovely Lizzie's heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanne Marie Knight
• Release date: Jul 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301025169

Susanne Marie Knight

Award-winning author and seven time EPPIE / EPIC eBook Award Finalist Susanne Marie Knight specializes in Romance Writing with a Twist! She is multi-published with books, short stories, and articles in such diverse genres as Regency, science fiction, mystery, paranormal, suspense, time-travel, fantasy, and contemporary romance. Originally from New York, Susanne lives in the Pacific Northwest, by way of Okinawa, Montana, Alabama, and Florida. Along with her husband and the spirit of her feisty Siamese cat, she enjoys the area's beautiful ponderosa pine trees and wide, open spaces--a perfect environment for writing. For more information about Susanne, visit her website at www.susanneknight.com.

Book preview

Chapter One

You can't make an omelet unless you break a few eggs.

Elizabeth Williams rolled her eyes at her buddy's well-worn phrase. Thanks, Trixie. Seeing my life as a cliché makes me feel so much better. She lifted a heavy box out of her navy blue SUV, balanced its weight, and then trudged forward toward her rented bungalow.

Home. This tiny two-by-four would be Elizabeth's new home. New home, new location, new career, new life. At thirty-eight years old--empty nest and all--she needed to forget the past and focus on herself so she could forge a new future.

Trixie Rhinegold, her long-time friend and events coordinator for the Sol de Caliente Resort, dragged out another cardboard box. Honestly, kiddo, sure, you had to give up everything back East, but I just know you're gonna love it here. Sedona's great. Look at me, after only a year, I feel like a native.

Elizabeth shifted the box and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Sedona might be the cool New Age capital of the world, as touted by many tourist groups, but all she knew for sure was that Sedona was hot and sticky.

A trickle of sweat slid down her cheek. At least for her it was sticky. Then again, most folks would find this ninety-degree temperature uncomfortable.

Trixie waited while Elizabeth unlocked and opened the front door. Wait 'til you meet our psychic, Oracle Odessa. She's amazing. Right-on-the-money.

Oracle who? Distracted, Elizabeth coughed. Stifling, stagnant air inside the bungalow made her first action mandatory. Without stopping to look around, she set her load on the built-in dining table, located the air conditioning controls, and then turned it on.

Omigosh, it's deadly in here. Perspiration now oozed from every pore. Let's give this oven a chance to cool off.

An eye blink later, she zoomed out the doors. Her friend followed. Outside, the sun-baked weather felt almost mild in comparison to the hothouse.

But not for long.

Break-time. She sat on the step of the miniature porch. Now protected from the noonday heat, she smoothed damp hair off her forehead. She probably looked like a motley mess. Geez, I feel as wet as if I just got out of the shower.

Trixie jogged over to the car, her generous bottom bouncing from the exertion. She retrieved something better than gold: bottles of water.

Elizabeth downed a generous gulp. Ahh, you're a lifesaver. Thanks. Fanning herself with her hand, she stared out at nearby juniper trees and the dazzling blue skies.

This little nook of central Arizona was quiet. So quiet that she could hear the muted sounds of splashing from the nearby resort's inviting pool.

So, Trixie, tell me about the oracle.

Odessa, no last name by the way, is the Sol de Caliente's resident fortune-teller. She reads Tarot cards, does past life regression, and astrology, among other things. Lemme tell you, she is out of this world! She laughed at her own joke.

Elizabeth smiled. You had a reading? What's in your future, then?

I thought you'd never ask. Trixie made her trademark mischievous smile. Well, only that I'm going to be monumentally successful in my work, and meet the man of my dreams, and get married.

Elizabeth glanced over at her friend's freckled face. There could be no mistaking the happy twinkle in her hazel eyes. Sounds like a totally unique fortune.

Spoilsport. Trixie wrinkled her pug nose. But get this, Odessa also predicted you would be coming back into my life. And now, here you are!

Odessa said me, specifically?

No, silly. It's like this. The Tarot High Priestess card appeared in the reading. The High Priestess means someone who's intuitive, and that's what you are, my psychic friend.

Elizabeth sighed. Whether she was psychic was a debatable point. Sometimes she'd get a flash of an image in her mind. Then she'd feel a nudge to do or say something. If she followed the prodding, things seemed to work out all right. If not, then the reverse. Unfortunately, she hadn't paid attention to her uneasy feelings when she'd been dating the man she ended up marrying. And now he was her ex-hubby.

That was twenty years ago, Elizabeth. Go easy on yourself. Besides, if I hadn't married Allen, I wouldn't have darling Lucy.

Not only that, Trixie continued. The High Priestess is associated with the Moon, and that also appeared in the reading.

So?

So the Moon stands for psychic awareness, and also is connected with cooking. Ta-da! You're a sous chef.

Right. Elizabeth had forgotten how her friend got carried away by her enthusiasm. "A newly hired sous chef, and if I don't unpack, I won't be able to start tomorrow. Which will, of course, make Monsieur Bamberton extremely hostile."

"Pay no attention to Monsieur Dougie's moods. Just because he's the executive chef doesn't mean he runs this joint."

He runs me, at least until I've got a year under my belt. Elizabeth stood. A vista of majestic red rocks--no, mountains--surrounded her as far as she could see. She felt small, dwarfed, by their magnificence. Oddly enough, though, she also felt comforted, welcomed, at home.

She took that as a sign. C'mon, Trixie. The house should be cooled off by now. Break-time is over.

* * * *

Five hours later, most of the work was done, and Trixie had gone. Satisfied with her progress, Elizabeth surveyed her domain. This tiny house already was furnished with an L-shaped couch, kitchen appliances, half-booth dining table and chairs, a built-in desk, and a queen mattress. There honestly wasn't much room for any other item of furniture. Knowing that beforehand, she'd sold most of her belongings back in New York.

Which left personal items. She'd stashed away her remaining stuff, taken a refreshing shower, and then took time out to set up her computer and printer. Her office equipment was essential to her job since her recipes--original and borrowed--remained stored away on her hard drive.

All that remained for her to do before going to bed was pick out clothes for tomorrow. Monday, the first day of the workweek, the first day on the job. She stepped into the walk-in closet--the only closet in the house--and admired her organized handiwork.

I think I'll--

Whoa! Like a curtain suddenly descending, hangers with dresses and blouses, stacked boxes, and colorful shoes disappeared. Instead, she found herself in another small area. An area even smaller than her closet.

Elizabeth took several deep breaths, calming her racing heart. This wasn't real. Couldn't be real. She hadn't had a psychic episode in a long time, but evidently, she must've been overdue.

As small as the area was, an antiseptic smell of disinfectants invaded her nostrils. She coughed.

Okay, think. Where am I supposed to be?

Stretching her arms out wide, she touched the sides of the enclosure. The room's width, though, measured even less. The walls were paneled in smooth wood veneer. A silver control box with numbered buttons dully gleamed in the overhead florescent light. An old-fashioned, rotary telephone hung right below the box.

A white placard read: In case of emergency, dial--

This is an elevator. Have I seen it somewhere before?

She didn't have a chance to think that through because the elevator door slid open. A young man, tall and gangly, wearing dark slacks, tie, a light blue shirt, and a Volunteer nametag, walked inside.

Good thing she wasn't claustrophobic. There was barely enough room for her and the young man. He stood over a head taller than she.

Now I know how a canned sardine must feel, he said, his deep voice rising over the hum of the moving elevator.

It was then that she noticed what she wore. A pink and white striped jumper with her own nametag, and a white blouse underneath the open bib bodice.

Omigosh, I'm a candy striper, again. Volunteering at the hospital--which one was it?--twenty years or so ago.

She glanced to the side where a mirror seemed to enlarge the limited space. Her image confirmed her thoughts. Yep, there she was, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, bangs hiding her forehead, and the plump cheeks of youth.

She gulped down apprehension.

Her surroundings blurred. As suddenly as she'd been thrust into this illusion, she was now propelled back where she belonged. The welcomed scents of lavender and vanilla hovered in the closet.

Elizabeth rocketed out of the scene of the crime, and into the bedroom. She flopped down on the bed. Why in the world did I remember that hospital elevator? What does it mean?

As an afterthought, she checked her appearance in the mirror lining one of her bedroom's walls. Her hair, still dark, hung in soft curls around her shoulders. Gone were the fluffy bangs of her teen years, and her hair now parted in the middle. Her cheeks, flushed from her exertion, were shadowed, as were her eyes due to lack of rest. An eighteen-year-old face didn't stare back at Elizabeth. She felt every one of her thirty-eight years, and then some.

Poo! Forget going back into that closet. What she really needed was sleep.

The cell phone rang. Its distinctive, spooky ring tone identified the caller. Lucy.

Hey, sweetie. How's it going?

Mom, thank God! I was worried sick. You said you'd call as soon as you got settled. It's midnight, y'know.

Elizabeth pictured her daughter dashing about her stamp-sized shared apartment, running her fingers through wildly curled hair. The blonde curls she inherited from her father, as well as her china blue eyes. Other than that, she was an exact copy of her mother.

It's only nine here, Lucy. Arizona's on Mountain Standard Time. Anyway, I was just going to call you.

Doubtful. I miss you already, Lucy pronounced. And so does Dad.

Elizabeth sighed. Lucy never did give up. She always hoped for a reunion.

Her youthful voice contained a giggle. Do y'know, Dad told me he looked up Sedona on a road map?

Geez, who felt like sleeping now? Elizabeth got off the bed and paced. She and Allen had divorced a year ago, right after Lucy graduated high school.

Elizabeth stopped by the living room window. By the way he kept calling her, asking for advice, and wanting her to do things, one would think he was still married to her.

No bloody way. Perhaps placing over two thousand miles between them was the main reason she took this job.

She lifted the window drape and stared out at the beautiful, but foreign-looking rocky landscape. No, she'd moved because of this chance to start over, doing something she loved--creative cooking.

Mom? Are you there?

Elizabeth smiled. She was just barely here, wasn't she? A few minutes ago, she'd been elsewhere, in a tiny hospital elevator.

Yes, pumpkin, but I'd better let you go. It's very late--past twelve for you, and for me, well, I've got a big day tomorrow. Did I tell you I'm feeding a medical conference starting on Sunday? Two hundred hungry health professionals!

Serve 'em steak smothered in buttered mashed potatoes. And whatever else that's high in cholesterol.

Lucy's bitterness came through in no uncertain terms. Unfortunately, she held a grudge against a philandering medical student. Wounds did take time to heal.

Okay, sweetie, I will. Call you tomorrow.

After the call ended, Elizabeth trudged back into the bedroom. Funny how she always slipped into her mother tone when talking with Lucy.

A flick of the switch turned off the light and she got into bed, under a light blanket. For a moment, she glanced around in the dark, listening to the air conditioner and hearing distant howling from a lone animal. Dog? Coyote? Wolf?

She shivered. The only animal sounds she was used to was of cooing city pigeons. She closed her eyes, but her mind continued to race, focusing on that disturbing psychic vision.

Why had she flashed back in time to the tiny hospital elevator?

The answer came to her. Earlier in the day, she'd thought about her ex--thinking about how her life would've been different if she hadn't married Allen.

Yes, that had to be it. Twenty years ago, when she'd volunteered at a downtown hospital, she'd just started to date him. She hadn't been serious about Allen then. She hadn't yet felt tied to him.

So what did the vision mean?

Sometimes answers could suddenly come in a flash. Like right now. New beginnings. That was what she was experiencing. This time in her life was like it had been then, when she was eighteen, a freshman in college. She'd been on the threshold of exciting adventures--adventures that hadn't been destined to occur. Eventually she'd given up on her career, and left college to marry