by Karen White
A small smile crossed her face. “I feel it, too. We have certainly been through quite a bit since we met, have we not? It is terribly selfish of me, but I would want you to stay here as long as possible.”
I looked down at my hands. “But this isn’t where I belong. As soon as I find my daughter, assuming she’s even here, I’m going to bring her back home.”
She paused and looked at me, her hazel eyes suddenly cool. “What if you cannot find her?”
“I can’t allow myself to ever believe that, because then I am lost. I will search for her until my last breath. You’re a mother. You understand.”
Children’s laughter carried over to us from around the corner of the house, and we turned to watch Willie chasing Sarah, her blond pigtails flying. I remembered again that shrug she had given me that was so much like Michael’s, and I stared at her fair hair, my mouth suddenly dry.
I swallowed thickly. “Julia, Sarah is around the same age my Annie would be now.”
Her clear eyes studied me, the breeze stirring the curls around her face. As if hearing my unspoken question, she said, “Sarah is mine.” Her gaze never wavered. “Her birth is recorded in the family Bible, and Dr. Watkins was present at her birth. He will verify everything I have told you.”
Silence settled between us as she resumed her chore, and I joined in, hoping I was pulling the weeds and not the vegetables. Suddenly, without looking at me, she said, “I gather such strength from this garden.” She grabbed a handful of dirt and let the thick muddy clods fall slowly from her fist. “It is not much, but it is the only buffer my family has against starvation.” A crooked grin settled on her lips. “Before the war, I never would have dreamed of sticking my hands in dirt. It is amazing what one will do to protect one’s family.” She looked directly at me. “I do not know if there is anything I would stop at to protect mine.”
A cloud drifted across the sun, creating large pools of shadow. I shivered and rubbed my hands over my arms. Was she warning me? Did she really think I was a spy? She gently placed a gloved hand on my forearm and smiled. “Laura, you have already saved the lives of two of my children. I am in your debt and I will do all I can to help you.”
I dropped the weeds clenched in my hands on the pile and looked down at her as I stood. “Thank you, Julia. I appreciate that. But I don’t know if anybody can help me.” I brushed at weeds clinging to my skirts, ignoring the mud. “If the children are done with their chores, I’ll go see about starting their lessons.”
Leaving Julia, I trudged to the house to search for the children, who had mysteriously disappeared, as if they knew I’d be looking for them. I went inside and noticed a piece of the broken teacup left in the middle of the library floor. I picked it up, then moved to the window to see if I could spot Willie and Sarah. I saw them by the kitchen, and, forgetting the broken piece of china, I squeezed my hand into a fist to hammer on the window. I cried out, dropping the china, and watched the blood ooze from a thin line bisecting my palm. I stared dumbly at my seemingly disembodied hand, wondering absently what I should do.
A movement from the doorway made me look up. I turned away from Stuart’s scowl and looked back at my hand, my eyes tracing the path of blood as it dropped down my wrist and landed in spots on the dark wood floor.
“What happened?” He strode into the room, lifted my arm, and looked at my cut.
“I cut my hand on your broken teacup.” I looked into his eyes to see if my barb had had any effect. “If you just want to close the door, I’ll be happy to stay in here and bleed to death.”
He frowned, but I allowed him to lead me to a sofa. His voice was brusque. “Sit here for a minute.”
He came back quickly with what looked like sewing scraps. He retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and sat down next to me. “Since you believe alcohol cures all things, we will use this. It might hurt a bit.”
I gave an unladylike snort. “Like that would bother you.”
He ignored me as he bent to his task of pulling a small shard of china from the wound. His hands were gentle as he soaked a cloth with whiskey and began to bathe the cut. Waves of pain shot up my arm, but I bit my lip, resisting the urge to scream.
“Go ahead and scream. I know it hurts.”
I kept my face turned away. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”
He had stopped cleaning the wound but still held my hand. I turned back to him and found him scrutinizing me. I tried to jerk my hand out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Despite what you might think, I do not relish inflicting pain on you or anybody else. Unless, of course, something of mine is being threatened.” His hand tightened on mine, but I refused to wince. “I would like to suggest a truce between us. If we are going to be living under the same roof, we will have to learn to be civil toward each other—at least for Julia’s sake. But do not be mistaken.” His blues eyes narrowed. “I will still be watching your every move. I will also be accompanying you every time you leave the house. So you had better get used to my company.”
I seethed inside but knew that I had no choice but to agree. “All right, then. A truce. Just promise me one thing.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“When you discover that you are wrong about me, I want an apology from you.”
His eyes widened, mocking me. “Agreed.”
He put a piece of material in his mouth and bit it, tearing it in half. “Why are you hiding something from us? You have nothing to fear from us here—unless you really are a Yankee.”
I looked down to where he was wrapping the bandage around my hand. Denying that I was holding something back would only make his suspicions worse, so I said nothing.
He looked at me, his eyes solemn, as if awaiting an answer. Shaking his head, he continued his bandaging.
I had always hated the sight of blood and tried to distract myself by looking at the bookshelves. A single title grabbed my attention. General History of Nature and Theory of the Heavens by Immanuel Kant.
“What do you know about astronomy?”
He raised his eyes to my face, his expression curious. “Not a lot.” Following my gaze, he saw the book. “Oh, those are Julia’s mother’s books. She had a feeling Nashville would fall to the Yankees and sent them down here for safekeeping.”
I studied the thick brush of dark hair as his head bent back to his task. “Would it be all right if I borrowed one to read?”
He looked at me, his face unreadable. “Of course. But if you really want to learn about astronomy, you should speak with Zeke. He is known as an expert on such matters.”
As he knotted two ends of the bandage together, I asked, “Is Zeke’s house far?”
“No, not far at all if you ride. It is quite a bit of a walk, though.”
“I would prefer to walk, if you can show me the way.”
“You want to go now?”
Deciding the children’s lessons could wait, I nodded. “Yes, so if you could just—”
“You are not going without me, remember? I will accompany you.”
I gave him my patient-teacher smile. “I assure you, that is not necessary.”
“And I assure you, madam, that it is. I must protect my family.”
I exhaled, then stood and walked briskly to the back door. Charlie yelped with excitement when he saw Stuart and happily followed us, trotting at our heels.
Despite the tense moments earlier in the day, my step was lighter. This visit with Zeke could be the first move toward finding Annie and the way home.
The path through the woods was well worn, the damp earth compacted by passing feet and littered with fallen pine needles. A weak sun filtered through the high canopy of pines, sprinkling the ground below with pinpricks of light.
I had deliberately walked fast, knowing that Stuart’s limp would make him trail behind. But when I came to a fork in the p
ath, I stopped, unsure of the direction. While I waited for Stuart to catch up, I lifted the hair off the back of my neck and wiped the sticky sweat with the palm of my hand. I unbuttoned the first two buttons on my dress, welcoming a cool breeze.
Feeling guilty at making a wounded man walk briskly through the woods, I slowed my pace to his and walked beside him, searching for a neutral topic of conversation.
“I’ve been wondering about something.”
He looked at me expectantly, probably curious at my civil tone.
“Where did Charlie get his name?”
A smile cracked his stern face. “So you have noticed the resemblance between Charlie and Dr. Watkins?” He stopped briefly to rub his leg. “So did Sarah. When she was four she called the dog Dr. Watkins. We made her change it but she insisted on Charlie. Luckily, Charles has not seemed to notice.”
I had suspected Sarah was a smart little girl and that confirmed it. I laughed, thinking about her astuteness. “It’s a good thing she didn’t think he looked like the rear end of a horse.”
Stuart made a strangling noise in his throat as if he were choking. When he recovered, he said, “Yes, our Sarah has a very active imagination. She is always making up stories.”
As we approached a clearing, I saw a small log cabin, a wide covered porch surrounding it on three sides. Zeke sat on the porch in a rocking chair, nodding at us in greeting. Charlie bounded off, running around Zeke and barking happily. The old man leaned over and stroked the dog’s back.
Thinking of Zeke’s last words to me and feeling suddenly shy, I allowed Stuart to approach first. He climbed the stairs of the porch slowly, nodding a greeting to his grandfather. They both turned to look expectantly at me.
I smiled and approached the porch. The rudimentary aspects of Zeke’s house didn’t surprise me. Despite his family status, I wouldn’t have expected him to live in anything grand.
Zeke broke the silence. “I see you two have made peace with each other.”
Stuart cleared his throat, and I looked down at the ground. Stuart spoke first. “We have called a truce, yes. No reason why we cannot be civil to each other.”
The old man looked over at Stuart and his lined face crinkled slightly into a smile. He picked up a large jug by the side of his chair and offered it to Stuart. After Stuart took a swig, Zeke offered it to me. “Drink some. It will help the pain in your hand.”
I realized that my hand was throbbing. Not wanting to appear rude, I walked up the steps and took the proffered jug.
Liquid fire best describes the contents that coursed down my throat. Stifling the reflex to gag, I swallowed it stoically. A small wince escaped me and I quickly took in three gulps of air. I felt the heat all the way from my throat to my stomach and my head suddenly felt light. The throbbing in my hand decreased to a dull ache.
My walk was unsteady as I climbed the remaining stairs to the porch to return the jug. Stuart wore a look of surprise but Zeke’s impassive face remained unchanged. To show them what a real woman I was, I took another swig, almost staggering this time with the effects of the contents on my muscle coordination.
“That is enough, Laura,” Stuart said with concern, and grabbed the jug and sat down.
I took a seat on the top step to steady myself. The rustic setting reminded me of camping, and I began to hum a favorite camp song. Nobody said anything or asked me to stop, and it wasn’t long before I was belting out “Rocky Top.” I felt two pairs of eyes on me and quieted.
Stuart stopped rocking. “So you sing, too. Where did you learn that?”
I avoided his eyes. “Oh, it’s just something I picked up along the way. My grandmother, mostly.”
“Julia would love you to teach music to the children. Especially Sarah—she seems to have a natural gift for it.”
I smiled. “That would be more than fine with me. I’ll talk to Julia when we return.”
I turned to Zeke. “Stuart tells me you know a lot about astronomy. I was hoping you could answer some questions for me.”
He nodded slightly, and then, without a word, stood and beckoned me to follow him into the one-room cabin. Stuart stood but made no move to enter. Sparse furnishings accented with brightly colored throw rugs and wall coverings added an unexpected coziness to the room. Despite the heat of the day, a cooling breeze blew through the open doorways. A heavy scent of wood ash clung to the log walls.
Bookshelves covered an entire wall of the cabin. Zeke approached the shelves reverently, letting his fingers glide over the bindings until they stopped. Pulling out a volume, he carried it over to me and gently placed it into my hands. I glanced down and read Astronomical and Commercial Discourses and the author’s name, Thomas Chalmers, on the binding. Opening its pages, my gaze picked out the words “. . . to shoot afar into those ulterior regions which are beyond the limits of our astronomy.”
I looked up at Zeke. “I want to go home. Do you know how to help me?”
He looked at me impassively and reached for my arm. Without any thought to stop him, I allowed him to roll the sleeve up to reveal the lower part of my left forearm and the crescent-shaped birthmark. “Ah,” he said, staring at it, as if something baffling had just been explained.
“What is it?” I asked, more intrigued than frightened.
“The sign of a Shadow Warrior,” he said, pulling the sleeve back over my arm. “A traveler.”
I pulled the sleeve back up and stared at the mark I had had since birth and never even noticed anymore. My Annie had the identical mark on her upper arm. “What does it mean?”
He looked at me with hooded eyes. “It is what will bring you home.”
“But how?” I shifted the heavy book in my arm impatiently, eager to hear the secret of finding my way home.
“You will learn—keep your ears and eyes open.” He paused to examine a lower shelf, then continued. “I will do what I can. But I do not think you will need my help. I see the strong light that surrounds you. I sense we have need of your strength now. Perhaps that is why you have been sent to us.”
He turned back to the bookshelves. “Stuart tells me he found you near Moon Mountain. That is a very sacred place to the Cherokee, you know. Stories of its magic have been passed down for generations. Stories of distant travelers sent here by the moon.”
His eyes turned toward my face and stared at me intently, but I didn’t flinch.
“Some of these travelers were bent on evil and destruction and had to be hunted down and then killed by other Shadow Warriors.” Chill bumps ran up my spine as I listened to his words and his eyes continued to bore into mine. “Most of them were.”
I swallowed thickly. “I don’t know why I’m here. It was purely accidental. If my daughter is here, I need to find her and bring her home.”
“Yes, Stuart told me about your Annie.” Turning back to the shelves, he plucked out several more books. “Then you will need to read these,” he said, and he piled three more heavy volumes into my arms. “These will tell you when the moon disappears and its powers are at its strongest. As for the rest, it is up to you.”
I could feel my anxiety rising. “I don’t know how I got here or why I’m here. I have no idea where Annie is. She could be here or anywhere. This was an accident. I don’t belong here and I’m certainly not needed or wanted. I just want to go home.”
Zeke touched my arm. “You have survived many hurts. But your life is not over. Perhaps that is why you are here.” Our gazes met. “I had dreams of you before you came. I saw you standing in front of Phoenix Hall, staring at a flying machine in the sky and watching it fall to pieces on the ground.”
My mind spun in circles. “No. That’s not possible. How could you know?”
He shook his head. “Just know that your secrets are safe with me.”
“Thank you,” I said, not sure what else I could say. I gathered the books tightly to
my chest and stepped out on the porch to find Stuart. I spied the jug and took another long swig, needing to obliterate my thoughts for a while. I ignored Stuart’s raised eyebrow and stepped off the porch, Charlie yapping at my heels. My gait was not a little unsteady.
I attempted to walk a straight line when I spotted Julia on the back porch. I could not. Dr. Watkins and an unknown lady stood next to her. I felt the waves of disapproval from the doctor and his companion and detected an almost imperceptible head shaking from the woman.
“Laura? Are you all right?” Julia approached me, her skirts rustling.
“I’m fine.” I punctuated my words with a hiccup.
Her brow furrowed as she got close enough to smell the alcohol on my breath. “Let me take you inside and get you cleaned up and put to bed. You can meet Miss Eliza Smith another time.”
She sent Stuart a severe look and then gently took me by the shoulders and led me inside.
CHAPTER NINE
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
—T. S. ELIOT
I leaned my tired head against the railing as I sat on the back porch steps. I glanced at the almost-empty basket of peas at my feet with a sigh of accomplishment and stretched. Robbie gurgled happily in his cradle next to me, and I itched to pick him up and revel in his sweet babyness. My relief was short-lived, as Sukie approached with another full basket.
She plopped herself down next to me with a pile of the unshelled peas in the lap of her skirt, and we resumed our work.
Willie staggered out from the side of the house, a wooden yoke resting on his shoulders and a large bucket attached to each side.
I indicated the boy with my chin. “What’s Willie doing?”
Sukie rolled her shoulders back. “He be carrying out all the wood ash from the house. Makin’ lye soap tomorrow.” She glanced up at the distant moon on the horizon. “The moon has changed. I never boil my soap on the wane of the moon—it jus’ never thicken.”
