by Kim Murphy
He drew her to him and kissed her again. “There is no other in my mind or heart.”
Relieved, she cried on his shoulder. “I thought you had died when your voice vanished.”
“I needed to complete my journey before contacting you again. Come, I have something to show you. I suspect you’ll find it as disturbing as I did.” He grasped her hand and led the way.
Afore long, the forest surrounded them. As they walked, she spotted human bones—legs, arms, feet, even skulls. The grief that crossed his countenance warned her what she had already guessed. “Snow Bird?” she asked.
“I don’t know if she’s here.”
Phoebe bent down and touched the sandy soil. Throughout the day, she had heard the screams and firing muskets. Tears streaked her cheeks. Most of the townspeople had died. But the two of them had survived. Wind Talker’s mother, Snow Bird, had been among the fallen.
Smoke nearly engulfed her. She choked back a cough. The smoke drifted slightly enough for her to see behind her. Wind Talker had vanished from her view. Skulls grinned and bones rattled. Beyond them, the smoke remained thick. In the swirling cloud stood a woman, but Phoebe could not make out her features. “Snow Bird?”
“Red Dog, why have you summoned me?”
Hearing her childhood name, Phoebe felt as if she were ten again. “Your son wishes to speak to you.”
“He lives?”
“He does. I have married him, and we have a daughter. She was honored with your name.”
Snow Bird stepped out of the smoke. The skin on the left side of her face was stretched and bubbled in bright red burns. Her ear was gone and a hole remained where it should have been. “Tell me what has happened.”
Sadness crossed Snow Bird’s countenance when Phoebe relayed the death of the Paspahegh, but the features on the right side of her face brightened when she told her about traveling through time and meeting Lee. As the story progressed, Snow Bird’s face transformed to the kindness Phoebe remembered. The burns vanished and her ear was whole again by the time Phoebe had finished.
Snow Bird craned her neck, looking from side to side. “Where is he?”
“He was aside me when we started. Mayhap the time is not right.”
“I’m here,” he said.
Wind Talker stepped aside Phoebe. She clasped his hand and felt it tremble neath her grip.
He moved closer to Snow Bird. “I have longed to meet you.”
Snow Bird smiled. “You were but two winters old when I last saw you. You have grown into a fine man, Crow in the Woods.” He didn’t correct the name. “I’m pleased,” she continued, “that you and Red Dog have married, and I have a granddaughter. Has life been difficult for you?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Until recently, I knew very little of my people.”
A tear streaked Snow Bird’s cheek. “Red Dog has told me that you were raised by tassantassas. I’m sorry—”
“You have nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Was your adopted family good to you?”
“They were. Although we had some awkward moments, they never treated me as someone inferior.”
“That’s good.” Snow Bird reached out, and Wind Talker grasped her hand. “I’m proud of you, my son.”
With those words, Snow Bird vanished. Wind Talker lowered his head, and Phoebe placed a hand on his arm. “You have finally met the brave woman who birthed you. She taught me much.”
He glanced over at her. “I wanted to see you before now, but I had to wait until the time was right.”
“I know that now.” She waited to see if he would elaborate.
Finally, he said, “When Lee died, I feared I would lose you, but you were a constant in my visions.”
She placed a hand over his heart. “I too went through the transition. Red Dog became Walks Through Mist. E’en so, Phoebe remained with me.”
“I should have known that you would understand. What do you suggest?”
“Keep both names. ’Twill allow you to walk in both worlds.”
His countenance grew pensive as if contemplating her words. “Are you saying you’re not part of my world?”
Phoebe gripped his hand. “If it weren’t for the dreaming, I wouldn’t be able to hold your hand or kiss you. ’Til I find my way back, dreams are all that we share.”
With some reluctance, he nodded in agreement. “And usually our time together is very limited. I’ve tried to work out what was different when I traveled the first time, but because of my age, I don’t recall the details.”
“Mayhap Shae can help.”
Afore Lee could respond, the crow cawed and the mist spread.
Phoebe threw her arms round his neck. “I love you.” But she found herself in her own living room. At least, Lee was alive.
* * *
15
Wind Talker
Before dawn arrived, I traveled alone to the mass grave. As the sun rose, I sang a welcome to the new day. With the added light, I could clearly see the outline of bones. They surrounded me, and I sung louder. My mother, the giver of my life, was buried among them. Of that I was now certain. When I was Lee, I often wondered if I would know her if she passed me on the street. At the time I thought she had abandoned me; I couldn’t have imagined the sacrifice she had made in order that I might live. After I met Phoebe, I had learned the truth and cleansed myself of the anger I had bottled inside.
“Mother, you asked for my forgiveness, but can you ever forgive me? I blamed you when you weren’t at fault.”
Only a chorus of crickets responded to my question. I stayed there awhile longer before turning toward the settlement only to be met by three warriors. I stood ready in case they were from an enemy tribe. Then again, how would I know if they were enemies without Charging Bear’s guidance?
None of us uttered a sound. Like mine, the warriors’ shirts were wool. They wore loincloths and deer-hide leggings. The one on the left had his skin painted with ornate feather designs. His hair was in the traditional upright style with it braided down the back, while the man on the opposite side had his face painted black and had his hair tied in a knot.
Finally, the man in the center stepped closer.
Relaxing slightly, I blinked. His hair was still quite black, but there were streaks of gray running throughout. He was almost as tall as me, and his prominent cheekbones and the shape of his nose and mouth had an odd familiarity. If I had been closer to sixty, I could have sworn I was looking in a mirror at myself. He wore a bear-claw necklace and his hair held an osprey feather.
“Forgive me for intruding,” he said in Algonquian, “but I heard your song,”
“My mother was among the fallen here,” I replied.
“As were my first wife and son.”
Doubt lingered in his eyes, but neither of us voiced our thoughts aloud. I reached for the leather cord around my neck, and the two younger men went for their clubs. I held up a hand to show them I meant no harm. Slowly, I removed the arrowhead from around my neck and gave it to the older man. “I believe you made this.”
He fingered the arrowhead and closed his eyes. “I am Black Owl.”
My father. My mother had led me here so that I might meet him. “I was Crow in the Woods.”
The two men stared at me, but their gazes had changed from distrust to curiosity. Black Owl raised his eyes, and I spotted a hint of a tear. “I thought you were dead, my son.”
“I know and understand. I’m Wind Talker now.”
“This is your brother, Wildcat, and your sister’s husband, Swift Deer.” He reached out and intertwined his index finger with mine, then he pulled me close and embraced me. The other men joined him in welcoming me to the family.
“How did you survive the attack, Wind Talker?” Black Owl asked, taking a step back.
“It’s a rather long and complicated story. Come, we’ll talk more at the house.”
“The house? Are we welcome?”
“I married R
ed Dog. They are my family too.”
A smile crossed Black Owl’s face.
Like most Indian groups, we traveled in near silence so as not to alert anyone who might be passing by. When we reached the house, Bess’s son raised a musket but lowered it again when he recognized me. The others soon joined us, and we made a round of introductions. Charging Bear and I translated between the groups for everyone to understand our conversations. I told Black Owl and my brothers how I had survived the colonial attack. Like others when they first heard my story, they were in awe that I had traveled through time, but accepted it.
After the death of my mother, Black Owl had sought vengeance against the colonials, but more colonists kept arriving from England, swelling the numbers beyond his comprehension. Only a handful of Paspahegh had survived.
Anguish crossed Henry’s face.
“You weren’t to blame,” I reassured him.
“You know that’s not true,” he replied.
Black Owl exchanged a questioning glance with the others. “Henry brought soldiers and guns to Virginia,” I explained.
“Did you fire the guns at my people?” Black Owl asked. Charging Bear quickly translated.
“Matah,” Henry replied. No.
“Then how are you responsible?”
Not caring for the idea of a potential war erupting in Elenor’s living room, I finally exhaled the breath I was holding. “Henry, you saved Phoebe’s life. Without your aid, I would have never met up with her again.”
“Kenah,” he said. I thank you. “All of you, for not bearing a grudge.”
Heads nodded and smiles were exchanged. Soon, we resumed our conversation. Black Owl told me how he had eventually sought refuge with the Sekakawon tribe where he had met his second wife. While I had studied much about my past, I had not heard of the Sekakawon before. That alone warned me the tribe hadn’t survived into the twenty-first century.
At that point, my brothers joined in. Both had families of their own. Wildcat had a son and daughter, and Swift Deer had twin sons. My sister’s name was New Moon.
By the time all of the talking halted, night had settled. Elenor and Bess prepared a dinner of roast venison, corn pone, and apple pie. After the meal, the men retreated outdoors and passed a pipe. Although I remained no expert at pipe smoking, I could now do so without burning my tongue.
Finally, I asked Black Owl, “What became of the remaining Paspahegh?”
He shook his head. “Besides Red Dog’s mother, who sought refuge among the Arrohateck, three women went to live with the Chickahominy. All have gone to the afterlife. I’m unaware that any had daughters.”
Unlike the English, all of the Algonquian-speaking people traced their lineage through the women. My dream of seeking the remnants of my people vanished. “And the men?” I asked.
“Most of us died fighting the colonists. I believe you and I may be the only warriors left.”
In the twenty-first century, I was the only Paspahegh. Although I was disappointed that more of my people hadn’t survived, I took comfort that my father was among the living in the seventeenth century. We spoke long into the night, even after my brothers had bedded down.
Soon after Black Owl retired for the night, I sought Phoebe through the dreaming. Each time, the presence of Crow and the wind accompanied me. If only I could understand what the wind said without the bird’s interpretation, I would likely be closer to the true meaning of my name. Instead of my familiar home, Crow led me to an office, reminding me of the time I had spoken with Ed. This time was different though. A blonde-haired woman sat behind the desk.
Sensing my presence, Shae looked up in wide-eyed fright and pressed a hand to her chest. “My God, Lee, you nearly scared the crap out of me. You’ve come here to say goodbye, haven’t you?” A soft choking sound came from the back of her throat as if she struggled to keep from crying.
“No, I haven’t come to say goodbye.”
“Then what?” She kept staring at me as if I were some sort of space alien.
“You can relax, Shae. I haven’t taken up scalping, and even if I had, it’s considered bad manners to scalp an ex.”
“You bastard...” A hint of smile crossed her face. “What can I do for you, Lee? Or have you taken some Indian name?”
With her question, I understood what Phoebe had meant about keeping both names. In Shae’s world, I was Lee and always would be. “I have taken another name, but you can call me Lee.”
“Nice of you to be considerate. I probably couldn’t have pronounced it anyway.”
“Probably not,” I agreed.
“A trip back in time certainly hasn’t improved your annoying disposition.”
“What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”
She laughed. “Thank you for distracting me, but I’ve recovered from my initial shock. Why have you come to see me?”
I resisted the temptation to continue sparring and became serious. “You helped me unlock my memory of my two-year-old self. Over time, I’ve recalled more, and since then, I’ve met my mother in the same way that I’m standing before you now.” At one time, even mentioning the dreaming would have set Shae off that it was nothing more than hypnosis. She finally seemed to have accepted the dreaming for what it was. “Is there a way that I can remember my actual journey to the twenty-first century?”
“I could try hypnosis, but you were a difficult enough subject when you were physically present. I don’t know if it would work at all during the dreaming.”
An interesting thought: hypnosis within the dreaming. “I’m willing to try.”
“You can’t be serious. What’s so important about that particular memory?”
“I need to know the details of how I traveled through time so Phoebe and Heather can join me.”
“I see,” she said, letting out a weary breath. “Why would you want to remain in the seventeenth century?”
“It’s who I am.”
“And you want to subject your family to it too? Need I remind you, the Indians lost.”
As if I needed a reminder. To my dying day, I would carry the memory of my mother’s death scream. “Shae, I don’t expect you to understand, but I am Paspahegh. Phoebe was aware of that fact when she married me. She identifies with the seventeenth century, not the twenty-first. As for Heather, I won’t leave my daughter behind.”
“You saw the skeleton. You will die there—all of you.”
“Everyone dies. Does it really make any difference as to which century?”
“It does to me.”
How foolish I had been to think that we could truly ever set the past aside. “I’ll come to visit you on occasion. I’ll even bring the family. If you like you can bring Russ, and we can have a big picnic at the beach.”
“You’re doing it again.” But a smile crept to her face. “Okay, sit down and make yourself comfortable. We’ll give it a try.”
As she had instructed, I sat in the chair across from her and settled back.
“Close your eyes.”
Again, I obeyed.
“Good. Now relax. Breathe in. Now out.”
Together, she guided me through several breathing and relaxation exercises. Like the time she had tried to induce hypnosis before, nothing happened. “It’s not working.”
“I didn’t really expect it to. Lee, I can’t really offer anything that you can’t do by yourself through the dreaming.”
“Try again,” I insisted, then lowered my voice, “please, Shae.”
“Your stubbornness is the same in both centuries.” Deep in thought, she tapped a pen on her desk. “When we were successful the time before you saw a crow.”
“The crow is my guardian spirit.”
“I don’t pretend to understand anything about guardian spirits, but that’s what guides you during the dreaming, I presume?”
I didn’t like where her question was leading. “It is,” I admitted.
“You see. I’ve never hypnotized you. You merely relaxed
enough to enter the dreaming.”
“You helped me focus.”
She tapped her pen once more, and a few minutes passed before she spoke again. “Okay, let’s try the relaxation exercises again. You’re already in the dreaming, so if I can somehow channel your concentration to the time you traveled to the twentieth century, you should have your answer.”
“Thanks, Shae.”
One more time, she led me through a series of exercises. When I called for Crow, the sound of flapping wings came toward me. I held up my arm, and a glossy black bird landed on it. “Lead the way,” I said.
As the bird took flight, I glanced at Shae.
“Go, do what you must,” she said. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Leaving Shae behind, I followed Crow along a street. This wasn’t the seventeenth century, and I arrived outside a restaurant, where Shae and I had frequented when we were married. I hadn’t been back since... go with it. There must be a reason why I was here.
I stepped inside and spotted Shae at the table in the corner that we had claimed as ours. Her hair was longer and she was thinner. Her head was bent studying the menu. I slid into the chair across from her. “Sorry, I’m late.”
She looked up. Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying. She lowered the menu to the table. “There is no easy way of saying this, so I’ll say it straight out. I want a divorce.”
Dumbfounded, I stared at her, feeling like she had kicked me in the gut. As a detective, I prided myself on seeing clues that most people missed, but I had missed all of the signs leading up to this moment.
A tear trickled down her cheek. “Say something. Anything.”
Too numb to speak, I clenched my shaking hand.
She grasped my hand. “I didn’t arrive at this decision lightly.”
I withdrew my hand from her grip and snapped, “Then why? I don’t understand. Surely, we can talk this through, but not here—”
“I’m keeping the house. I’ll reimburse you for your share, and—”
