All My Truths & One Lie Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright © 2019 by Fabiola Francisco

  Books by Fabiola Francisco

  Social Media

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Prologue: Dim Stars & Faded Dreams

  Chapter 1: Finally

  Chapter 2: Unwanted Truths

  Chapter 3: Confessions

  Chapter 4: Baggage

  Chapter 5: Expectations

  Chapter 6: My Body, Your Hands

  Chapter 7: Stardust Lovers

  Chapter 8: My Truths

  Chapter 9: The Saint in Red

  Chapter 10: Ho'oponopono

  Chapter 11: Twin Flames

  Chapter 12: Mirror, Mirror

  Chapter 13: One Lie

  Chapter 14: Stale Coffee & Heartache

  Chapter 15: Inner-child

  Chapter 16: I Forgive Me

  Chapter 17: The Keeper of Secrets

  Chapter 18: Universal Undoing

  Chapter 19: Soul Beings

  Chapter 20: Fairies & Magic

  Chapter 21: Sacred Union

  Chapter 22: Pink Skies & Lullabies

  Sneak Peek: Red Lights Black Hearts

  Books by Fabiola Francisco

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Fabiola Francisco

  Cover design by Amy Queau

  Editing by Robin Bateman of Robin’s Red Pen

  Proofreading by Rebeca Kettner from Editing Ninja

  Interior Design: Cary Hart

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Standalone

  All My Truths & One Lie

  Perfectly Imperfect

  Red Lights, Black Hearts

  Twisted in You

  Memories of Us

  Restoring Series

  Restoring Us (Complete Series)

  Resisting You (Aiden and Stacy Novella)

  Sweet on You Series

  Sweet on Wilde

  Whiskey Nights

  Rebel Desire Series

  Lovin' on You

  Love You Through It

  All of You

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  To the wild girl, who lost her way and found it again.

  Love is a truth. Forgiveness is a strength.

  I wrote this story pulling a lot of myself and my experiences, blending them with a love story that is deep. Through my recent years, I’ve spent time becoming more familiar with spirituality, how energy works, and the importance of healing our emotional pain.

  Years ago I began working on myself and realizing my own self-worth. It’s been a rocky road, like any healing process. However, it’s been so liberating to understand why I carry certain beliefs.

  Through my personal and professional trainings, I learned how our ancestors impact us in the present. Something I never paid much attention to before. I learned that we carry loyalties tied to those ancestors that affect us. It has shifted my understanding and perspective and also encouraged me to heal, knowing I am capable of such strength.

  I feel honored to have been able to combine my love for fiction and my passion for guiding people through their healing to write a story I believe in so much.

  All My Truths & One Lie takes you on a journey about the weight of family secrets, the effect of traumas, and how meeting someone so magical in a mundane world can stir it all up so you can finally look at yourself and become free of the baggage. So you can believe you are worthy of love.

  Navia is a reflection of me, and because of that I’ve been afraid of publishing this novel. I do feel like I have a message to share, and I hope you connect to a part, or all, of it.

  I thank you for taking the time to read this book, and I hope that by the end of it, you have also had the chance to understand that your past doesn’t have to control your present. Mostly, I hope you have the courage to live authentically, proud of who you are and the road that led you here.

  Love,

  Fabiola

  When I was a little girl, I used to wander around the playground and contemplate life. I didn’t understand some things and understood others way too much. I processed information differently, in a weird way, and I didn’t understand why my friends were so . . . immature. Yes, at the ripe age of ten, I wondered why kids acted like kids as if I had some wisdom they didn’t have. It wasn’t that I did, I just saw things differently.

  I had friends, but I distanced myself. I needed to as a form of regaining my sanity, or center, or . . . I don’t know. Simply needing some time. Too in my own head, that’s what I was told. I was too serious. Too reserved. Too wild. A plethora of adjectives that didn’t always mesh, yet completed me. I couldn’t argue with those descriptions, I knew they were true. A girl who fantasized too much, warred with the desire of a fantasy and the need to accept life wasn’t that.

  And then I grew up.

  But nothing changed.

  I stare up into the sky and sigh. My eyes close for the briefest moment as the warm breeze kisses my skin. Sitting in the dark, wondering why I live in a place that outshines the stars, the artificial lights illuminating the insincerity that swirls around this city. I open my eyes to see one twinkling star. It brightens and dims as I look at it, wondering how far away it is and what it’s called.

  I push my body back to sit straighter in my chair and cover my face with my hands. How long do I have to stay here for? I keep telling myself I stay in the city because I still have lessons to learn from it. Maybe I need to stop judging it so much so that I may move on. Lord only knows.

  I check the time on my phone. I’m nowhere near tired, but if I don’t sleep now, I’ll be exhausted tomorrow when my alarm clock goes off at six-thirty. Five hours of sleep isn’t nearly enough for me to function anymore.

  I glance up at the sky one more time and blow out air through my mouth. Soon. I feel it in my soul.

  The last three years have been a pause in my life. I’ve discovered things about myself, grown internally, but the life I led has stopped. Almost as if I needed reclusion to overcome a hump. But that causes distance between myself and the world around me. The more I traveled within, the more I secluded myself. I can say it’s symbolic to Jesus’s forty days and forty nights in the desert. However, I’m no Jesus, and this seclusion didn’t ground me. Instead, it uprooted me, yet my body wouldn’t move forward.

  At first, I looked at that time as temporary. Then it became permanent. My perception of it became obsessive to the idea that I’d never move from it. Until I realized the peace in the moment. I removed veils of illusion and took the pause for what it was—a preparation for what’s to come.

  I feel the pull in my soul, guiding me like the wind against a sail. I can allow the guidance or resist it and risk experiencing the greatest shipwreck of my history.

  I choose to listen. I decide to go where the pull takes me when I’ve spent many nights staring at t
he sky like tonight, telling myself I wasn’t ready.

  I am.

  So many times, the tug I feel is familiar. Another soul calling to me, awakening this intense need from its slumbering state, just enough to rouse me. Then, it releases, not quite prepared for the intensity of our union, yet a consciousness of each other’s existence. It’s a building fire I stoke, gently allowing the flicker to intensify.

  But I miss him.

  I don’t know him physically, and I miss him. My soul longs to be near his. In my sleep, I long to feel his arms around my body, his breath tickling my neck. I can sense him inside me. How can you miss someone you haven’t yet met?

  Homesick for a person my eyes haven’t seen, but my soul is familiar with. We’ve danced together before in other times and I long to see him again. Hold him. Feel him near.

  And I’m finally ready.

  That’s why I took this first step in the direction I want my life to go.

  Seeing as my mind is racing and my eyes are wide open, I stay outside in hopes I’ll catch a miraculous shooting star. The street light shines on the outside of my home. It’s small but cozy. This is what I need for now. As long as I have a chair, a small table, and open skies, I’m happy.

  Despite having this home, I still feel stuck. As if my soul is moving faster than my body. I see things shifting in my mind’s eye but don’t see the shift in my life around me. Or maybe I do. Sometimes it’s difficult to see the change when those around you are blind to it. But on the inside . . . on the inside, I feel as if my cells are shaking to a vibration that I’m unaware of. As if something inside of me wants to shake itself free and go at a speed I’ve never experienced in my life.

  Hence, my inability to rest.

  A surge of energy bursts, fueling my mind to think beyond the world I live in. I always have to take a minute to breathe and ground myself. It’s easy just to allow my mind to float to a world that many don’t believe in. It’s natural to see things with a different understanding. And it’s so difficult to bond with people because of this. So many times I keep quiet, leaving my ideas to myself in quiet observation. A few times I express what I’m holding, usually resulting in odd looks or silent disapproval.

  I shake off the feeling of not belonging and go back to admiring the stars. I can’t see the moon from here, but I know she’s out there. Another reason I wished I lived somewhere with less light and population. A forest in the middle of nowhere with traces of ancient civilizations and history so deep, it trespasses my bones and hits my soul.

  A place like that exists. I just need to find it.

  This is why you struggle to make friends.

  I roll my eyes and ignore the side of me that is rational. I’ve learned to embrace who I am. I’ve learned I may never meet anyone in their thirties who will share the inquisitive wonder I do. I’ve learned that there’s more to life than egotistical existence and material gains.

  But those have been easy lessons in comparison to the ones that tore me apart like an angry tiger and then sewed me back together like a gentle horse.

  I run my fingertips over the pink velvet petals of the flowers that line the garden path. The early morning dew transfers onto my fingers as I trace the sage-colored leaves. I stare up, squinting my eyes before closing them all together. The sun rays paint a smile on my face. Behind my eyelids, I collect tears of gratitude like I collect used books.

  It has taken me some time to get here, but here I am, in the place I was born to be in. Here I am living my purpose.

  I wrap my coat around me as a shiver travels through me. Spring has just begun, and the mornings are chillier than I’m accustomed to. I look back at the unfamiliar flower. The inside of the petals has a darker shade of lines that design them like the chaotic highways I left behind.

  No.

  Nothing here screams chaos like the angry words I left behind from strangers insulting each other because their egos controlled their hearts.

  In this place, hearts outshine egos. The energy that swirls around the stone walls penetrates even the toughest rock. I wipe my cheek and move on to another flower while the birds sing a song of joy above my head.

  I haven’t been living here for long, and on the first day, the fear that used to rule me tried to cripple my will. But I remained firm in what I knew was right for me and faced the self-doubt like a goddess instead of a victim. One look at the late night sky reminded me that I didn’t leave behind anything of value. Instead, this change added value to my existence. What I left was part of the journey that always meant to lead me here.

  I check the time on my watch when I notice the sun is higher in the sky and leave behind the flowers that I enjoy daily. I inhale the scent of fireplaces burning around me. A reminder that it is still my favorite time of year. Fortunately, the rain has subsided a bit this week, allowing me to take my time as I walk to work.

  Work.

  I don’t even consider it work. When you are living your passion, the term “work” becomes irrelevant.

  Stopping at a crosswalk, I undo the buttons of my coat and allow the chill to cool me from the walk. On the ground, I see a small white feather. Grinning, I squat and pick it up. There was a time I would cringe at the idea of holding a feather, but now I see them as signs from the universe that I’m on track. A way for the angels to speak to me.

  I pocket the feather in my coat and cross the street that leads to the office. Some days I question how this became my life. What did I do to deserve it? Then, that same day, I’ll have a client that comes to me with lack of self-worth, and I find myself guiding her and myself out of the hole of doubt and worthlessness into the light of self-love.

  One of my ongoing lessons—I’m worthy. Worthy of life, love, abundance, prosperity.

  Living in a world that easily disregards our value if we’re not pretty enough, skinny enough, fashionable, it’s easy to forget that worth comes from a place beyond the material dimension of this earth.

  I agreed to no longer live in the density that weighs me down and drowns me into a sea of judgment, anger, and resentment. That no longer has a place in my life, if I choose to move forward with a life I’ve always dreamed of.

  It’s time I no longer hide behind a veil of pretending and own who I am, show the world the magic within me and all around us instead of hiding for fear of being unaccepted. Truth is, people will judge you regardless. It’s in our nature as humans to do so. Therefore, I’ve decided to step into the light, remove masks and limitations that cause us to blend in when we should all truly stand out for our own individuality.

  “Good morning, Navia.”

  I smile and pull the feather from my pocket before removing my coat and hanging it on the hook by the door. I move further into the room where Makenna is sitting on the couch, stirring her tea. I place the feather in the white, ceramic bowl on the side table housing all the other feathers I have found on my way here.

  “Morning,” I smile and sit on the chair opposite her. She eyes the bowl and shakes her head. “They don’t disturb you.”

  “They don’t.” She sets her tea on the table and pauses, smiling at my quirk.

  I’ve only known Makenna for a short time, but I can read her, and I’m aware when she’s at ease and when she’s overwhelmed. When we met in the small café, I was fascinated by her approach to life. And her accent, I’ve always been fond of the accent.

  We talked for a few hours, realizing we both had similar interests and experiences. My usually guarded stance was immediately removed when the older woman smiled and threw out a British joke I didn’t understand.

  What I thought was a mindless decision on her part turned out to be a real offer—work with her where she provides holistic services. I agreed to start the next day, showing up at work and realizing it’s everything I ever dreamed of for myself. A place full of balanced energy, woodsy incense, and pale walls, I’ve been using it as my office since then.

  “Are you excited about today?”

  I
nod. “I am. A bit nervous, too, but I’m ready.”

  “You are.” Makenna smiles, the wrinkles framing her eyes a sign of wisdom. “How’s the book coming along?”

  I shrug. “Slowly.” The book.

  “Patience. Remember, slow and steady wins the race. This isn’t like anything else you’ve written before. Be easy on yourself and allow the creativity and wisdom to flow.”

  “I am,” I smirk. I was up late last night working on just that. After meditating, I took to my laptop to allow the inspiration to move through me. I know this book is different than those I’ve published before, and I am aware that being here will also open those gates that have been begging to be flung wide so I can burst through them.

  “At what time does your first client arrive?” Makenna breaks my thoughts. I check the time on my phone.

  “In fifteen minutes.” I leap from my seat and rush to my small office. It’s perfect—cozy and warm. I light the pine candle on the wooden, hexagon side table and play the “Gayatri Mantra” from my laptop. Taking a few moments to center myself, I close my eyes and inhale deeply before exhaling to the same count. My breathing soothes me.

  I then grab the file with my client’s name and prepare for her arrival. It’s been a few years since I became a certified life coach, yet I continued to put it aside. Something was missing. Now, I am complete. With a variety of tools to truly help guide people, I can offer them the best I have.

  As soon as I hear voices in the small entrance, I step out to greet my client. Leading her into the office, I work with her on releasing judgment and realizing her worth.

  “You did great today,” Makenna smiles as she locks the door behind her. “This modality will be a great tool.”

  “Thanks. It did turn out great. And a lot more people came than I expected.” I smile and widen my eyes.

  When I mentioned to Makenna that I wanted to offer a group session to guide people in reaching the root of their personal challenges and limitations, she rapidly agreed and encouraged me. We organized it all in one week, and the last thing I expected was to have over twelve people show up.