September 3, 1994, Naperville, Illinois“Good afternoon, I’m Steve Adams and I’m looking for Yogi Krishnadasa Acharya.”“You’ve found him,�... a short, thin, Indian man in black robes answered in a reedy, high-pitched voice. “Anala has told me all about you. Come in; come in!”He led me through the lobby of the building to a room that reminded me of my ‘Indian’ room at home so much that I was sure Anala had patterned it after this room. The yogi lit incense in a bowl, then bade me sit down. He sat. ‘No, everything with him is fine. But I have to talk to you about…about something’ I said, my voice shaky. ‘And it’s not going to be easy.’ Dear God, was I really going to go through with this? We sat down in her living room and the story tumbled from my lips, starting with Kelly and ending with Robbie’s suggestion about Valentine’s Day. Cara had sat through the entire discourse without saying a word, save for the occasional ‘uh-huh’. She had grasped my hand tightly when I told her about Kelly. More

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