by Kim Murphy
She felt the babe’s head betwixt her legs.
Lee held out his hands, and she gave another push. He caught Heather in his arms. His face beamed with pride. His presence had been right.
Phoebe blinked and the pain vanished. This was the world of the dreaming. She had relived their joy upon the birth of their daughter. Through the mist, they continued their journey. The room was ablaze with candles. Lutes played. Across from Lee, Phoebe stood in a flowing burgundy floral dress with black sleeves. She gazed into his dark eyes. They joined hands.
“Like the seasons,” he said, “this ring forms a circle. It has no beginning and no end. Neither does my love for you. I devote myself to you for eternity.” To avoid the webbing betwixt her ring and middle finger, he slipped the gold band on her index finger.
Her friend Meg handed Phoebe his ring. “The circle of time has brought us together, binding our love and lives. I join my mind and spirit to yours; in this world and into the afterworld. I devote myself to you for eternity.” She slid the ring on Lee’s finger.
They sealed their pledge with a kiss, and Phoebe realized that her life was now in the twenty-first century.
With a gasp, Phoebe stared at the flickering candlelight. Over the course of more than three years, the twenty-first century had become her time. Still feeling very much like a stranger caught in an even stranger world, she had doubted that she would ever fully accept life in this time period, but now the seventeenth century was almost like a dream. If it hadn’t been for Lee, she would have most likely gone mad, and he had been in the present century for thirty-five of his thirty-seven years. He recalled little of that time.
“I don’t get it,” Lee said. “What does reliving Heather’s birth and our wedding got to do with a buried skeleton?”
“ ’Tis the circle of time. You have yet to make peace with the past.” She removed the leather cord with an arrowhead from round her neck and placed it in his hand. “This is as much a part of you as Heather and me.”
His fingers curled round the arrowhead. “My tribe.”
“Your father. You have ne’er asked his name.”
Lee’s eyes narrowed. “My father was a cop like me.”
“Mayhap the man who raised you was a cop, but your father was a warrior.”
Anger at the horrific loss of his family changed to anguish. He was not ready to delve into the past. They would participate in the dreaming again, and he would learn more. For now, she wouldn’t push him. He needed to uncover the truth in his own time.
* * *
The following eve, Phoebe agreed to meet Lee along with Ed and his wife Marian at a local bar and grill. At half-past five, Meg dropped by the house to watch Heather, and Phoebe drove her Fiesta to the restaurant. Unlike the smoke-filled tavern where she had originally met Ed, this establishment had padded chairs and linen napkins. She met Lee inside the door.
Even though he remained in his business suit, he wore the arrowhead round his neck and a copper band about his wrist. Unable to read his expression, she worried that he remained distressed by the dreaming on the previous night. An eve out would certainly help alleviate some of the stress.
Lee guided her to the other room, where Ed and Marian awaited.
“Phoebe!” Ed stood with a kind, smiling face.
She greeted him and his wife afore they all seated themselves round the table. After ordering the meal, they made polite conversation, except for Lee. Phoebe’s concern grew, but Marian asked her about Heather. “Aye, I pierced Heather’s ears the same time I did Lee’s.”
Ed sipped his ale and snorted. “Going Indian on us, Lee? What’s next? War paint and a feathered headdress?”
Lee’s gaze grew fixed. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I am Indian.”
Ed sobered. “Take it easy, partner. You’ve never been touchy about the subject in the past.”
“I haven’t been touchy because you of all people have never resorted to stereotypes before. Or maybe it’s time for a few scalping jokes. Noble savage, perhaps? If that’s not enough, we could—”
“Lee—”
“—pretend how all of us died out more than a century ago to make way for the progress of civilization. Never mind the fact—”
“Lee. You’re right, and you have my humble apology.” Ed glanced from Lee to Phoebe with a concerned expression.
“Sorry,” Lee said. “I didn’t mean... I don’t know what came over me. You’ve always been the first to step into the crossfire when the racial slurs start to fly.”
“That’s why I shouldn’t have joked about it. I’ve seen what you go through every day.”
But Lee didn’t usually react in anger when people made unthinking statements. Normally he responded with sarcasm. Phoebe’s vexation heightened.
Marian broke the uncomfortable silence by inquiring about Heather again, but the remainder of the eve consisted of pinched smiles and small talk.
Relieved when dinner ended, Phoebe returned to the house in her own car with Lee following close behind. Meg wished them good eve and shuffled her own five-year-old daughter out to her car. In the past Meg often remained overnight, rather than wake Tiffany. “You’re welcome to stay, Meg.”
“I know, but I think it’s best that I get home tonight.”
She suspected that Meg detected Lee’s angst. After a quick goodbye, Phoebe found him in Heather’s room checking on their daughter. He touched her sleeping face, then, without saying a word, went into the kitchen.
Phoebe followed him. “Lee, speak to me.”
He pulled an ale from the refrigerator. “I didn’t mean to react the way I did tonight.”
“Aye, I know.”
“I guess this has me more on edge than I realized. I would like to find out more about who I am and where I came from, but quite frankly, for some reason, it has scared the hell out of me.”
Pleased that he was confiding in her, Phoebe took some comfort. “When I first arrived in this century, I felt lost and alone. A six-year-old child can read and write better than I could. I was painfully aware of that fact, but you, Meg, and Shae ne’er gave up on me.”
At the mention of his former wife, he frowned slightly. Although they had remained friends throughout the years, Shae had been the first to reopen his forgotten childhood memories of the seventeenth century through hypnosis. He took a swig of ale. “I’m not certain I understand the connection.”
“I had a connection to this century through you afore we e’en knew about it. That connection can ne’er be severed. You must find what ails you from the past for you have lost your family and tribe. You have as much of a connection to the seventeenth century as I do this one.”
“I never quite looked at it that way before.” After taking another swig of ale, Lee set the can on the table. “Phoebe, I’d like to try the dreaming again.”
Once again, she prepared. Soon, accompanied by the white hound, she walked through the mist to the dreaming realm. Bright lights filled the night sky. Cars rushed to and fro, and the walkways were crowded with people. She sucked in her breath. ’Twas the time when she had arrived in the twenty-first century and was struck by a car. “Lee, I don’t wish to relive it.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “Come with me.”
Up ahead, the mist thinned, and she stepped forward. A two-year-old lad scribbled lines in the sand. His skin was brown and his hair, black. Lee, or Crow in the Woods, as he was known by at that time. As a lass of ten, she had often looked after him for his mother. She watched him play and smiled. But the peaceful scene shifted with the sudden advance of armored soldiers aiming their muskets. They fired. All round Phoebe, men, women, and children fell. Amongst cries and shrieks of pain, longhouses were set afire.
Nooo. She didn’t wish to relive the memory, but she must be brave for Lee’s sake. He was the reason she had been brought to this place in time.
Houses were ablaze, and swirling smoke filled her lungs. On her hands and knees, she scrambled for safety. As s
he crept along the ground, she nearly succumbed from the heat. She covered her ears to silence the dying wails. The wind fanned the flames. She coughed and sputtered. A wet tongue licked her face. Grateful to see her hound, she wrapped her arms round his neck, and he led her through the blinding smoke.
The smoke drifted and she spied a young lad. He crawled along the ground, crying for his momma. She bundled him against her ’til his cries quieted.
Far into the day, embers and smoke danced into the sky. The screams and shooting muskets came less often. Throaty sobs and moans surrounded her. The lad stirred. At the time, she hadn’t known he was Crow in the Woods ’til she had wiped the grimy soot from his face. The lad was Lee. She had witnessed the English soldiers burn the Paspahegh town and annihilate its people.
Crow in the Woods babbled about his hunger. She rocked and comforted him. Barely more than a child herself at the time, she called for her momma. The duty to keep Crow in the Woods safe had fallen upon her shoulders. At nightfall she huddled with him in her arms, but sleep was too strong to maintain her grasp. She had failed to keep the lad safe. She heard his muffled cries in the darkness and stumbled after him. Brambles tore into her arms and legs. She ignored the pain. “Where are you, Crow in the Woods?”
Mist engulfed her, but the long-legged, white hound stood like a beacon on the path afore her. During the actual event, Phoebe had been too young to recognize the dog was a spirit. She followed him, but the mist grew thicker.
The lad’s cries came from within.
“Crow in the Woods!”
His whimpers surrounded her, but she could not locate him. Then the mist vanished, and along with it, Crow in the Woods’s cries. He was gone.
Phoebe blinked and found herself in her own living room with Lee seated across from her. Tears streaked her cheeks. “ ’Twas as if the mist had swallowed you alive.”
“In some way, I was.” Lee moved closer and drew her into his arms. “I recall the screams, and there was fire all around me. I didn’t remember the soldiers. They killed my mother, didn’t they?”
“Aye.”
There was a long silence afore he asked his next question. “What happened to my father?”
She withdrew from his embrace and dried her tears. “Most of the warriors were away on a hunting trip when the soldiers attacked. I ne’er saw him again.”
“What was he like? I don’t even know his name.”
After all these years, he had finally asked about his father. “I didn’t know him well. Men and women led different paths. He was tall, or at least, he seemed that way with me being a lass. His name was Black Owl.”
His hand formed a fist. “And the goddamn English murdered innocent women and children.” He unclenched his hand and lowered his head.
Phoebe let him grieve for the family he ne’er knew. She touched the arrowhead on the deerskin cord round his neck. “He made this for you.”
Suddenly uncomfortable, Lee stood. “And this is what I’m supposed to make peace with? How?”
“Lee, e’erything in life is linked. You came to this time afore me, and when the time was right you called me here.” She gripped his hand. “We are linked. The past will unveil the answers if we allow it to reveal the message.”
He smiled slightly. “I’ve never known anyone with the knack for speaking in as cryptic a manner as you.”
“Whilst I am a cunning woman, I cannot speak about what I don’t know.”
He kissed her on the mouth. “If we’re truly linked, and I also believe we are, then I can face the journey, whatever it may be.”
She hugged him even though her own worry hadn’t faltered.
* * *
3
Lee
Gunshots and screams surrounded me. Billowing smoke burned my eyes. A woman held me. She screamed and I was falling. I hit the ground, and she very nearly landed on top of me. I clung to her skirt. She lay still and unmoving.
Drenched in sweat, I woke from the nightmare that had plagued me for over two weeks. The dreaming had unlocked my memory of the annihilation of the Paspahegh. Even in waking moments, I would catch glimpses of the burning town or my dead mother. I buried myself in work, but Phoebe saw past my diversion. She suggested that we continue with the dreaming. I made excuses to avoid it. I didn’t fool her, or myself either. I was afraid. Would I become like my parents—nothing more than a memory to Heather?
To be honest, my father wasn’t even a memory. The only thing I had to remember him by was an arrowhead. I clenched it in my hand. No, that wasn’t all. His name had been Black Owl. Why had I taken so long to ask Phoebe? And why hadn’t I been totally honest with her about the skeleton’s resemblance to myself? More than anything I wanted to believe that it had been nothing more than a sign to uncover more about my heritage.
The alarm went off, and I went through the mindless motion of showering and dressing. I kissed my family and waved goodbye, wondering if it would be the last time that I might see them. I barely made it to the station when I got a phone call from my ex-wife Shae.
“Lee, could you help me with a patient?”
As a psychologist, she had often helped me in cold cases through the use of hypnosis on the victims. “How?” I asked.
“She’s witnessed a murder. It’s taken months for her to work through the trauma enough to talk about it to anyone besides me. She wants to help the police, and I would like for her to speak with someone who won’t make her feel like she’s on a witness stand already.”
A murder case—a great way to start the morning. Then again, what did I expect? I had been a Violent Crimes unit detective for several years. “You know I’ll help, Shae. When and where?”
I wrote down the details and fortunately the rest of the morning was more routine, with me filling out a backlog of paperwork. Still, I kept thinking that I smelled smoke and imagining people fleeing through it. In the afternoon, I met with Shae at her office to speak with her patient.
The witness’s testimony unlocked a case that had gone cold six months before. Although she was weepy and nervous, she held together to give me a statement. She departed with uniformed police, who would keep her under protection until we could safely lock the suspect away.
As I gave Shae a quick goodbye, she called me back. “Lee, how have you been? And Phoebe and the baby?”
Shae’s blonde hair was shoulder length instead of down her back as I remembered from the days of our youth, and she had grown plump in the decade we had been separated. “Everyone is fine.”
“You look like hell.”
No matter the circumstances, I could count on her blatant honesty. “Thanks, I needed that. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Is Heather keeping you awake at night?”
Now I detected her psychologist’s nose working overtime. “No, she sleeps through the night—and before you ask any further, everything is fine between Phoebe and me.”
She waved at me to calm down. “I was asking as a friend.”
Unlike most divorced couples, we could talk about our relationships, for which I was thankful. I let my guard down. “I remember what happened when I was two. I can’t get the screams out of my head.”
“That’s common with such a trauma. Have you talked to anyone about it?”
“Who can I talk to besides you and Phoebe? No one else would believe me.”
“Then talk. I’m finished with my patients for the day.”
“Shae—”
“Lee, I’m serious. That kind of trauma can damage you permanently. You saw what my patient was like—and that was after months of therapy. I know you like to think of yourself as a tough guy, who can hold everything together, but everyone has a breaking point. You trusted me once before, and I’m partly responsible for the memory surfacing. Talk to me.”
Three years ago she hypnotized me at my request. Brief glimpses of what had happened surfaced during the session. I sat in the chair across from her desk.
“Good,” she said. �
��Now what triggered the memory?”
“The dreaming.” She opened her mouth to say something, but I motioned for her to allow me to finish. “I know you’ve always maintained that it’s hypnosis.”
“I realize now that it’s more than hypnosis. Please, go on.”
I shrugged. “What’s there to say? You know what happened. I saw my mother murdered.”
“You’re not all that different than my patient who just left. You’re just better at hiding it. I bet you haven’t fooled Phoebe.”
“I haven’t,” I admitted.
“Then why haven’t you told her?”
I debated whether to confide in her about the whole sorry mess going back to uncovering the skeleton. Besides Phoebe, she was the only person who knew that I originally came from the seventeenth century.
“Lee?”
“Shae, you know as well as I do that I shouldn’t even be here. Both Phoebe and I should have died almost four hundred years ago.”
“That’s not true. You wouldn’t be here if that were the case.”
I met her gaze. “How can we know for sure that our presence in this time is permanent?”
“So that’s it. Lee, you and Phoebe have been through some traumatic experiences, but time travel is a freak of nature.”
“Is it?”
“Stop it. You’re playing that game with me by responding to me with questions.”
“That wasn’t my intent. Hell, you might as well know...” Unlike with Phoebe, I went on to tell Shae the whole story about the skeleton, the recreation of his face that looked like mine, and my experience during the dreaming, which had led to the nightmares.
After I finished, she seemed to mull my story over and finally said, “I see.”
“That’s it? I spill my guts, and—”
“You didn’t give me a chance to finish. I think Phoebe is right. Now that the memory has surfaced, you need to face your fear. I obviously can’t tell you whether you’re going to travel back in time, but the skeleton triggered something. It could be your mother’s death and how you got here, or it could be something more. Only you can find out what it all means.”
