My thanks, as always, to ErikThread for his insightful and helpful editing. Any errors are mine.



Astrid came home that Friday just before dinner, and there was general chaos in the Rasmussen home. My parents had been invited and arrived not long afterward, while Crystal ordered Chinese delivered from one of the local restaurants.

I got a bit drunk that night. Astrid was taking some kind of pills to keep her calm and couldn't drink, so I had her share. When she arrived, she looked worn and tired, but there weren't any signs of cuts or bruises and she was in good spirits as far as I could tell. We all had a good cry when she arrived and then got down to hearing what happened.

It turns out this so-called Wilderness Survival Force was nothing more than a bunch of left-wing college kids who had some crazy idea that they could save the province if all logging was stopped. They had managed to work themselves into a lather and decided that if one of them could get some guns, and another could figure out how to circumvent security systems, they could kidnap some big-wig and hold him to ransom.

The plan got refined, and then refined some more, and finally, a target was chosen. Crystal was the target, but Henrik was the objective. They had it in their minds that if they could control the biggest of the big, he could make all the others do what he told them to do. Astrid simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Astrid said that if she hadn't been so frightened, it would have been a comedy. They apparently argued day and night about what to do next. They had been successful beyond their wildest expectations, but were uncertain how to take advantage of their captive. As Astrid pointed out, they needed help in planning. She would know.

Finally, they agreed that the money would be the big thing and that's what they went for. When they called that Friday morning, they were hung over from pot, wine, beer, and god knows what else. They even argued about which of the two leaders was going to make the call and speak to Henrik. By this time, Astrid was really frightened because these people were so out of it, she thought anything could happen.

When the SWAT team broke down the door of the basement suite, they found the four dancing around in a pot-induced haze, celebrating the five million dollars that Henrik was supposed to give them. Astrid had been tied to the headboard of the bed for most of the week. Escorted by the one woman in the group for her bathroom breaks, she had neither showered nor washed properly for the entire time. Fortunately, they had fed her.

The three men and one woman were taken into custody, while Astrid was released and put in an ambulance and taken to Vancouver General for a thorough examination. Other than some rope burns and a lack of personal hygiene, she hadn't suffered any injuries, nor had there been any sexual assault. She told me that she doubted any of the men could get it up, they were so often stoned. I was just as happy she didn't have to test that theory.

We didn't have sex that night. Astrid was exhausted, I was drunk or something close to it, and all we really wanted to do was to hold and touch each other again. Making love wasn't on our minds yet.

Crystal made a big breakfast for us on Saturday morning. That's when I found out my parents had stayed overnight in one of the guest bedrooms. I guess Dad had had a couple of extra snifters of Henrik's cognac and Mom and Crystal made sure he wasn't driving anywhere that night. Somebody had to be in charge.

The breakfast was at the dining room table and it was a happy, loud, and fun occasion. Astrid was almost back to her old self already. She was teasing me about our outpouring of emotions on the phone the previous afternoon, but I really didn't mind. I thought it was something that told me a lot about myself and Astrid's importance to me. No one thought it was weak and no one made fun of me. I think my mother thought it was a sign of my true feelings for Astrid, and she was happy for me.

We didn't do much that Saturday. I made a quick trip to a nearby sport store and bought a swim suit. Astrid decided to tantalize me and probably any other male within viewing distance with her skimpiest bikini still in residence at the house. It was teal coloured and she looked absolutely fantastic in it. I didn't have my camera with me, but I took some pictures with my cell phone. My father was cross-eyed once more.

We lounged around the pool all afternoon. Mom and Dad had gone home to change, promising to come back that afternoon. We would be heading home to Little River on Sunday, but not until the afternoon.

In the meantime, the story of the kidnapping and rescue had not yet broken in the media. I wondered why, but didn't have any complaint. I couldn't imagine what was going to happen to us when everyone found out about Astrid's encounter with a life-or-death situation. I was sure it was going to be big news.

After dinner, the Rasmussens and the Campbells decided to play bridge. Both Astrid and I begged off, choosing instead to go back out to the pool and spend some private time with each other. I'm sure that was our parent's plan all along. I don't think they really realized just how much she meant to me until everything was at risk.

"My worst fear was that I'd never see you again," Astrid confessed. "I think I must have cried for the first three days. That woman, Therese they called her, she kept telling me to shut up. She thought I was afraid of what they were going to do to me. I never told them I was afraid I'd never see you again, never be with you, never hold you."

"It was the same for me," I admitted. "I couldn't imagine what I would do without you. I'm just so happy I didn't have to find out."

We were sitting on the edge of the pool, our feet dangling in the warm pool, each with an arm around the other's waist.

"Are you really OK?" I asked her after a long silence.

"I think so. I don't know if there will be any after-effects. They ... the police ... offered me counseling ... stress counseling ... if anything happens. I hope it isn't necessary. It would mean coming back to Vancouver every week for god knows how long. I'd really rather not have to do that. I just want to be with you," she finished, looking at me with a tired smile.

"We'll do what ever needs to be done to make sure you are OK, dear."

"I know. Let's just wait and see. There's probably nothing to worry about."

"Maybe," I answered, not quite as convinced.

We left Sunday noon to catch the mid-afternoon ferry to Nanaimo. Parting company with her parents and mine was a bit sad and we made a lot of promises about calling them often and seeing them. Henrik had talked about using the corporate aircraft to fly my parents, Crystal and him over to Comox and visiting us in a few weeks; perhaps the Victoria Day long weekend in May. I thought that would be great and so did Astrid. I think we both wanted them to see what a fine place we had chosen to make our new life.

As we sat in the ferry lounge, looking out at Vancouver Island in the distance, we talked about what came next for us.

"When do you see us getting married," I asked.

"How about August?"

"I have to wait that long?"

"Wait for what?" she grinned.

That stopped me. I guess it was really a matter of making it all official. Otherwise, we were living and acting as a married couple already. It was just a matter of choosing where to live.

"Good point," I conceded.

There was another silence as Astrid was thinking. Then, "I think we should start planning our new home."

"What new home?"

"The one we're going to build for ourselves and our future children." She had been thinking about this and it was another example of her inborn need to plan.

"Uhmmm ... I guess. But, that brings up a sticky point," I said tentatively.

"What sticky point?"

"Uhmmm ... about the money. Your money, I mean."

"Oh ... that. Does it bother you ... I mean ... does it bother you that I have a lot of money?"

"I'm not sure. I'm having trouble with the concept, I'll admit that."

She was quiet for a while and I didn't know what she was thinking. Was she upset because I was uncertain? Was she miffed that I was worried about her wealth? I couldn't tell. Finally, she turned sideways to me, placing her hand on my cheek and looking directly into my eyes.

"Rick, there isn't a single thing I can do about being wealthy. I didn't ask for it. I didn't even hope for it. For a number of years I did everything possible to avoid it. I've been rich since I was twenty-one. That's four and a half years ago. I really haven't spent a dime of it and every year it gets bigger and bigger. I can't think of anything better to spend it on than the man I love and the home I want us to be happy in. A shelter for us and our children."

I sat there, somewhat confused and uncertain.

"Astrid, I don't know how to handle this. I've never been rich, and I never contemplated being rich. It's something that just happened in the last few days. Like winning the lottery. I really don't know how to handle it."

She smiled at me and I felt a bit better.

"I don't either, Rick. But if we're going to have all that at our disposal, and we are going to make a life together for ourselves and our children, then we'll have a long time to figure it all out. Maybe we can start a charity, or a foundation or something. A way to help others. I don't know. It doesn't have to be a problem ... a burden. Many families spend most of their time worrying about making ends meet. We will never have to do that. What we need to do is make the best use of what we have."

I looked at her. I couldn't help but love this woman. She was so grounded ... so level-headed. Plus, it was all beyond my control. I leaned over and kissed her gently and she responded in kind. I sat back in the lounge seat, undoubtedly with a satisfied smile on my face.

The news broke Monday morning when the RCMP held a press conference in Vancouver at ten am, announcing the arrest of four suspects in the kidnapping of Astrid Rasmussen, daughter of Henrik Rasmussen. The kidnapping had taken place ten days earlier and with patience and full cooperation of the Rasmussen family, a successful rescue operation had been mounted and Ms. Rasmussen had been freed on the previous Friday.

The television and radio stations broke into their regular programming to carry the press conference live. It was the headline story for the next two days as every bit of the family history and the history of previous kidnappings were reviewed. Henrik attended the press conference and publicly thanked the RCMP Special Squad for their excellent work in rescuing his daughter unharmed. No mention was made of Crystal's ordeal, or of my presence.

The spokesman for the force indicated that details of the kidnapping would not be soon forthcoming as the Crown was still collecting evidence for the future trial. There would be no bail for the suspects. They were remanded in custody.

I reported to the school on Tuesday morning, but Astrid remained at her apartment. The news had been on everyone's mind and it wasn't hard for me to get our Principal, Daemon Hollingsworth, to understand she needed more time to recover. Naturally, he was shocked to discover one of his teachers was the daughter of a famous man. As far as her classes were concerned, a substitute was available and had been filling in for her.

My classes were a different story. They had been monitored by the assistant principal, Andrea Belisle, but no teaching was being done and no assignments were handed out. I was over a week behind and I had some catching up to do. I was a little upset that my class had been so neglected, and I wondered if it had anything to do with my unconventional methods. I would hate to think the administration was that petty, but you never know.

It didn't take long for Astrid and me to become celebrities in Little River. The media had tracked us down and were hounding us for interviews. A number of the tabloids were offering large sums of money for Astrid's exclusive account of the experience, but all were declined. It took over a week before the furor died down enough that we could return to some sort of normalcy.

She had moved into my apartment, primarily to dodge the media. It worked for a day, and then the pestering began again. We finally removed the phone from the wall jack and stopped answering the door unless it was someone we knew. The little peep hole was helpful for that. When they didn't have any luck with Astrid, they started on me.

What was my relationship to Ms. Rasmussen? How was I involved in the kidnapping? Did I see the kidnappers? Was I getting a reward for helping the Rasmussen family? How long had I known the family? And on, and on, and on. After a while, I just gave them a "no comment" and quit trying to be polite.

Astrid weathered the storm of publicity, but wondered aloud to me if it would all start again when our engagement was announced. That wouldn't happen until the wedding date was set, but I knew it wouldn't be that far in the future.

She was having some bad dreams at night and I was there to help her through them. The ones she could remember were variations of the confinement and restraint she suffered over that week. Fear of the future was mixed in with it as well. They didn't seem to have lasting effect on her during her waking hours, but in bed and asleep, I could feel her restlessness and I struggled to get a good night's sleep as well.

We couldn't help but hear the goofy stories the media invented to explain what had happened and who the main players were. You would have thought that some criminal mastermind had pulled this off and that the worldwide forces for good had rescued her just in the nick of time. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so frightening in its reality.

By the end of the week, much of the fuss had died down. The media people had us staked out, but weren't bothering us any more. We moved back to Astrid's apartment and I informed the landlord at my place that I wouldn't be renewing the lease when it expired on the first of July.

There were barely eight weeks left in the school year and we hadn't decided on what our plans were for the summer. It struck me that money was no longer an obstacle. We would be able to go anywhere and not worry about traveling "on the cheap." In the meantime, as I struggled with our summer plans, Astrid was still having some difficulty with her dreams. I wanted to help her, but I wasn't sure how.

I spent some time on the internet researching sleep disorders and various trauma counseling theories. An idea began to form the more often I saw one concept repeat itself in many of the therapies: yoga meditation. I remembered a woman on the faculty mentioning yoga and I decided to ask her about it, hopefully in confidence. I did not want Astrid's problems to once again be fodder for the rumour mill.

Elizabeth Keate was a colleague of Astrid's, teaching English as well as Health and Hygiene to the more senior students. Yoga had come up in a general conversation about health. I gave it a lot of thought about how I would frame my questions to her, but I guessed that she would put two and two together pretty quickly and know this related to Astrid's kidnapping.

I approached her during the lunch break one Monday and asked if I could speak to her in confidence. She agreed. Elizabeth was over fifty, many years my senior. She was, however, well regarded among the faculty and I had some hope that she would keep my inquiry to herself.

"Elizabeth, I need your advice on something; specifically yoga and meditation."

She nodded without speaking.

"You know what happened to Astrid, so I won't go into any details, but she has been having bad dreams that are interfering with her normal sleep and I'm concerned that it's going to affect her health. What can you tell me about yoga meditation? Do you think it could help?"

"Rick, I'm not a doctor or a psychologist, but I know that meditation, particularly the traditional Eastern meditation, is a proven method of relieving stress. What happened to Astrid must have produced an enormous amount of stress and despite how strong I know her to be, she needs relief from that. Yoga is a platform for meditation, if I can put it that way. One supports the other and they are inexorably linked.

"It so happens, there is a very good practitioner here in the valley. Her name is Sandra Johal. She's getting on in years, but she was very helpful to me when my husband was dying. I can recommend her not just for Astrid, but for you as well. She is a professional in every sense of the word. If anyone can help, Sandra can."

"Thank you. Please don't mention this to anyone. We're having enough problems fending off the media. I'd really hate for Astrid to have this become common knowledge."

"No ... I won't say a word to anyone, but I will let Sandra know if you want me to. I know something about how people like to gossip around here and I won't contribute to it. If you need anything else, please, Rick, don't you or Astrid think twice about coming to me. You are good people and good teachers. I'll do anything I can to help," she said with a sincere smile.

"Thanks, Elizabeth. We really appreciate that. Now, all I have to do is convince Astrid it's a good idea."

"If you need help in convincing her, I'd be glad to speak to her about it. I've gone through it years ago, but I still practice it today. Once you learn, it usually becomes a discipline you maintain."

I nodded my thanks and noted the name of the practice that Ms. Johal owned. She was listed in the yellow pages, so finding her wouldn't be hard.

I broached the subject that evening with Astrid. I was careful to have her understand that it was an aid to help her get past the bad dreams and trauma of the kidnapping. As she so often did, she surprised me.

"I've been thinking about yoga too. One of our English teachers is very involved in it herself."

"You mean Elizabeth?" I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"I've already talked to her and she's given me the name of someone she highly recommends."

Astrid laughed and this time it was her shaking her head. "We're starting to act like an old married couple. We're thinking the same things at the same time."

She was right. I had seen my parents display the same behaviour as well. It always struck me as a sign they were perfectly compatible with each other. It was a good sign for Astrid and me. She gave me a big hug and a kiss, and sighed what I took to be a sigh of contentment.

We were quiet for a while and then Astrid turned to me. "Do you suppose this yoga person could teach us about that Tantric sex thing?"

I had to laugh. "You've got that stuck in your mind still? It must have been quite an experience for you."

"It was. I mean ... you seemed to be taken by it too."

I agreed. "What do you say we deal with getting you back to a proper night's sleep first and then we can talk about Tantric sex?"

"OK. I can live with that. But I won't forget," she warned.

We hadn't made love since the Saturday night before we returned home. Her period had started on the Monday and we were confined to holding and cuddling for a few days. I wondered if having sex would change her sleep pattern.

I contacted Ms. Johal and made an appointment for Astrid and me to meet with her on Friday afternoon after school was out. Astrid wasn't planning to go back to the classroom until the following Monday. I wanted her to take it easy, but already she was showing signs of restlessness. I gave her a couple of assignments. One, to do a little pre-study on yoga on the internet. The other, look for house plan books we could go through. She jumped at both suggestions.
Sandra Johal was certainly an older woman, well into her sixties I guessed. She was slim, attractive, and apparently active. There were some pictures of her on the wall in running gear, participating in some of the 10K races. They appeared to be fairly current. Sandra also sported a very proper English accent.

After introducing ourselves, we were seated across a large oak desk from the woman.

"I understand Elizabeth recommended me," she began.

"Yes. I had heard her comment about her involvement in yoga in the past and I though she might give us a good lead to a teacher. So here we are," I smiled.

"Good. Would you like to tell me why you are interested in yoga?"

"Actually, we're specifically interested in yoga meditation. Astrid survived a very harrowing experience recently and she's having trouble sleeping. I've been doing some research on sleep therapies and more than once I came across references to yoga meditation as an aid."

Sandra looked at Astrid with a sympathetic smile. "Yes, I heard about your kidnapping. I'm sure that was very frightening."

She paused for a moment, folding her hands together on the desk. "Meditation is part of yoga. They are inseparably linked. My classes are based on Hatha yoga, a very old and well recognized discipline. There are several types of yoga, but Hatha is the one I have chosen to follow and teach."

"Before we get too far along," I interrupted, "do you believe that this Hatha yoga will be helpful?"

"Yes, but ... it isn't that simple. I am not a doctor prescribing pills for various ailments. Yoga is a way of life, of belief, and of personal awareness. It requires understanding and practice and commitment. I can't teach what you need to know in two or three hours. It is a developing practice that evolves as the individual evolves. For many, it is an exercise in frustration because they are unable to grasp the principles. Part of it is physical, but much of it is mental. Do you understand what I am trying to say?"

Astrid spoke up. "Yes, I think so. This isn't some exercise class that makes you feel better afterwards. From what I've read, it's a moral, spiritual, and physical exercise. I know it isn't something where we just show up once or twice a week and follow your instructions."

Sandra was nodding agreement. "Quite so. I teach a more modern and Western approach, so the physical aspects are emphasized, but for advanced students, I will give special instruction in classic Hatha yoga. Elizabeth is just such a student, but then, she has been practicing for over twenty years."

"This sounds like a big commitment," I offered.

"It is, if you seek its true benefits. There is only one way to find out if it is for you, and that is to try. If you wish to try, I will welcome you to my classes."

I turned to Astrid. She had been quiet, but very attentive as Sandra spoke. She nodded. "I think we should try," she said, mostly to me.

"Then ... we will."

We began attending classes at Johal Hatha Yoga the following week, Monday and Thursday evenings for an hour each. Sandra was right, this would be much more complicated than I realized. Astrid, however, seemed to be mentally better prepared for it. I should have known, I suppose. She never did anything in half measures.

Her return to the classroom was raucous to begin with. So many questions and comments about her ordeal. It took her a couple of days before she regained control of the class. Gradually, her students began to respect her ability to re-focus on her job and by the end of that first week she felt things were somewhat close to normal.

The staff members were just as fascinated by her adventure, but with my having returned a week earlier, I had been able to answer many of their questions. The women on staff had elevated her to heroine status, which caused Astrid some embarrassment, but also some personal satisfaction. The single men had once again found they had no idea who Astrid Rasmussen really was. No one knew of our engagement, however. Not even Elizabeth Keate.

I worked hard to grasp the concepts of Yoga and meditation. I don't think I was successful, but I know I tried. Perhaps it was a bit too cerebral for me. Astrid, however, seemed to latch onto the concept easily and was truly into it. I confessed to her my problems with keeping up with her and she surprised me.

"Don't worry about it, Rick. I will help you, but you don't need to lose any sleep over it," she laughed. Bad pun, I thought.

We were into our second month of twice weekly sessions and I felt like I was falling further and further behind. Perhaps my mind was too ... linear. Perhaps I was too pragmatic for this concept. But then, Astrid, the great planner and pragmatist was fully involved and seemingly progressing very well. I was struggling to grasp why I couldn't quite accept the notion. Once again, Astrid came to the rescue.

"Rick, I have something to tell you," she said ominously one evening as we drove home from the Yoga class.

"Oh ... what's that?"

"I asked Sandra about Tantric Love tonight."

"Oh ... well ... what did she say?"

"She said it was related to Tantric Yoga and was a higher form of spiritual oneness. She knew why I was asking the question and she wanted to know what prompted it. I told her about our special night ... that special joining. She said it was unusual for anyone to achieve what we had achieved without training, but she admitted it was possible.

"I told her we wanted to find that special place once again and she had agreed to help us. But ... and it's a big but ... you have to be there with me. I mean ... spiritually. You have to be part of me and me a part of you."

"I don't know how to be any more with you spiritually than I already am, Astrid. I love you will all my heart, but ... I need help to understand what I don't understand."

"Sandra will help us, Rick. She will see us privately. Just you and me and Sandra. Will you try, Rick?"

"You know I will. I could never say no to you, babe."

She smiled and hugged and kissed me as I struggled to maintain control of the car.

We began the sessions the following week. They were very intense and very personal. Sandra, however, was someone I had complete confidence in, despite the fact that I had been unable to completely grasp the idea of Yoga meditation.

Much of Tantric Yoga was predicated on letting the mind completely relax and accept the love of yourself and others. It was so simple to say and yet so difficult to realize. It was a way to deepen both love and happiness. Or at least, that's how I understood it. I think Astrid had a more intellectual understanding of it. The best part of Sandra's instruction was the practicing. It was done in private in our apartment and we worked very hard to put her instructions and advice into our efforts. I remember the night when everything came together and we found that magic place once again.

We weren't practicing Tantric Love every night we had sex. We had to be in the right mindset ... both of us. When it finally happened, it was as magical and emotionally perfect as the first time. I believe part of the solution for me was to rid myself of any real-world concerns. I wasn't thinking about anything other than making my lovely Astrid completely satisfied. I had no thoughts of myself ... only of her.

We completely lost track of anything other than being together ... melded into each other. I think the only words that were spoken during the whole encounter were by Astrid.

"Yes ... yes lover. We've found it."

I know I've tried to describe it, but it's like trying to describe a cloud. The moment you begin, the cloud has changed shape and drifted. I barely moved in Astrid that night. I don't know how long we were together, but it didn't really matter. It might have gone on forever. We could feel each others heartbeats, slow and steady. I could feel the occasional pulse of her vagina as it contracted around my erection. There was nothing else to know. It was perfect!

We couldn't wait to tell Sandra, of course. She was happy for us.

More importantly, Astrid had exorcised her demons and was sleeping regularly again. It was all the encouragement I needed to continue with the Yoga classes. I might not have been the ideal student, but I was a willing passenger with Astrid. It was good exercise, both mental and physical.

Our parents kept their promise and visited us on the Victoria Day weekend. Henrik brought them up in his twin turbo-prop Beech. They arranged to stay in a very nice B & B in town, since we had no room in our apartment. Crystal and Mom immediately hijacked Astrid for some more wedding planning, while Dad, Henrik and I went off to play golf. It seemed like a fair trade to me.

Both our parents were relieved to hear that the last of the symptoms of her kidnapping had been resolved. We told them about the Yoga sessions and how helpful meditation had been. We neglected to mention Tantric sex, of course. Or at least, as far as I know, we did. The three co-conspirators, all female, may have discussed it, but I never heard about it.

The wedding had been set for early August and the church had been booked. The announcement was in the two major newspapers as well as our local paper the weekend before our parents arrived. Almost immediately, we began receiving phone calls from the media with questions about our connection to the kidnapping and requests for interviews.

I didn't really appreciate how big this wedding was on the social scene, but I was soon set straight by my mother. She was going crazy trying to convince Dad to buy her something really expensive to wear at the wedding. He was, I'm afraid to say, weakening. Ah well, we all have to know our place in the grand scheme of things.