Tell Me I'm Dreamin'

by Eboni Snoe

  “It was not until I was eighteen and was truly master of Sovereign that we discovered the discrepancies over the borders between Sovereign’s sugarcane fields and Sharpe Hall’s. I went straight to Basil and we had words over the matter. I told him it was mighty strange that the oldest of the documents clearly stated that the northwest fields between our properties belonged to Sovereign, and the ones your father had handled said they belonged to Sharpe Hall. He would not even listen.” Ulysses’ dark eyes burned passionately. “You see, there were three sets of records. Two at Sovereign, and one at Sharpe Hall. The one that stated the sugarcane fields belonged to Sovereign had been hidden in my father’s personal belongings for years. The other document had been filed away with Sovereign’s records by your father. Needless to say, the latter agreed with the papers at Sharpe Hall.” Ulysses began to look out over the fields of Sharpe Hall. “Well, I wasn’t about to give up, so I took the matter to the authorities on Barbados. They looked at the documents and decided the situation was a common one. They said that discrepancies were often found between old records; therefore they declared the two sets which agreed on the property lines had the most weight.”

  “None of that is my fault, Ulysses,” Melanie insisted. “And I would think if you accepted my marriage proposal it would make up for all of that.”

  Ulysses looked back at the picture Melanie made, standing between the columns supporting the porch of her home. Her eyes were soft and compelling, but there was something else there he could not quite describe.

  “No, it is not your fault. But it is something you alone could never make up for, Melanie. And you know with Basil being the oldest boy of the family, Sharpe Hall is his to do with as he pleases. Your marrying me would not change that.” He turned, making his way down the spacious stairway.

  “Ulysses.”

  He stopped and turned toward her.

  “Please think about what I’ve said.”

  Ulysses simply looked down at the stairs.

  Melanie made one last attempt to solicit an acknowledgment. “If you need any help getting ready for the book sale, don’t hesitate to ask me. It is two weeks away, is it not?”

  Ulysses nodded his compliance, waved, and began to walk away. He took in the lay of his land as he traversed back to Sovereign. As he approached the hilltop he could see his home nestled between a forest of evergreens.

  The exterior of the structure was deceiving. It did not reflect the riches that abided inside. Unlike Sharpe Hall, with its imposing columns and archways insinuating even more marvelous things to come, it was Sovereign which housed the treasures of Eros, and Ulysses intended to keep it that way.

  He watched as a donkey cart driven by Clarence advanced steadily up one of the island paths. Upon reaching the house the elderly man got down and hobbled into the side entrance. Clarence, like Catherine, had been with his family for years. Never a man much for words, but a good man. Ulysses’ handsome features contorted with anger as he thought of Clarence being assaulted during the last break-in at Sovereign.

  The intruder had waited to do his dirty work until the one night Ulysses was out of town. He had come across an unsuspecting Clarence when making his escape. The criminal struck him down, then kicked him repeatedly to ensure he would not get up and follow. It made Ulysses apprehensive about his next visit to Barbados, but he simply had no choice, he would have to go again for his business.

  He remembered arriving back from his trip and finding that the lock on the collection room bore marks of an attempted forced entry. His own room had been searched thoroughly, and so had the library. What puzzled him was that some of the valuables that could have been taken remained intact. Catherine and Aunt Helen had slept on the main floor and heard nothing.

  Ulysses was sure the would-be thief was looking for the Five Pieces of Gaia, but he did not understand why. There were many objects strewn idly about within Sovereign that were much more valuable. But for him and his family, the collection was priceless for sentimental reasons. Could someone else have similar reasons for wanting to possess them? Would the inscription on the bronze lid, if it could be deciphered, answer all of these questions? Against his will, Ulysses wondered if Nadine could have been an accomplice in the latest attempt. It happened one week to the day after her departure.

  Chapter 12

  The old guard looked at her suspiciously as she advanced up the side stairwell. It was 10:30 P.M., and she knew he wondered why a young woman would choose to return to work in a small, cramped room filled with old papers and artifacts.

  Nadine was asking herself the same question, although in the back of her mind she knew why. She was having problems sleeping ever since her return from Eros. Her nights had been an accumulation of snatches of sleep, mixed with strange dreams that left her uneasy. But when she tried to remember them, she could not. That was bad enough. But the thoughts of Ulysses that kept her awake for long, endless hours deep into the night were the worst.

  She would find her nipples tightening, and a demanding yearning building inside her abdomen as she lay alone in her twin-size bed. The sensations were always the same, varying in intensity, as her mind replayed the last meeting she had with him. The feel of his arms about her as he pressed his body against hers. His kiss was urgent, hungry. It was as if she had been seared, branded by the passion that poured from him that night. Nadine knew she had done the right thing by not giving herself to this man who remained a puzzling stranger. She believed his ability to be cruel was just as potent as his ability to make love. Lovemaking of a kind he promised she would never receive from any other man. Just as she was accepting the pain of knowing she would never experience Ulysses’ lovemaking, the guilt would set in. Guilt from wanting him. Over her body’s reaction to just the thought of his touch. She would feel the weight of the years of her Pentecostal upbringing, which taught her she had no right as a single female to any of the things she was feeling or thinking. All her life she had tried so hard to be the epitome of righteousness, combating the endless rumors about her parents.

  Listlessly, Nadine unlocked the office door and turned on the wall switch. She found the quiet of the musty room comforting, and its clutter reminded her of Grandma Rose.

  Nadine walked over to one of several bookshelves. Many of the books were studies of ancient art, and writings compiled by various scholars over vast periods of time. She found reading the yellowing, torn pages relaxing.

  During the past two weeks she routinely returned to the office during the late-night hours to read. If it wasn’t for the unbendable rule, “None of the books or paperwork are to be removed under any circumstances,” she would have saved herself the trip by taking a few of them back to her room. But it really wasn’t so bad. Dr. Steward had found them housing in a building a couple of blocks down from the library. Of course, for many of the locals and tourists, 10:30 P.M. was the time to be out and about in St. Phillip, the largest parish on Barbados.

  With the desk light on, Nadine settled down with a book in the secretarial chair. An open window let in a tiny breeze, but soon beads of perspiration formed on Nadine’s face. She realized how warm the office had become. Nadine fumbled with the knot of the scarf she had tied around her neck after buying it earlier at a boutique at Sam Lord’s Castle. Moments later the knot was undone, but the scarf had become entangled with the cliff dwellers’ necklace beneath it. Nadine put the book down, and removed both the scarf and the necklace. The objects slid apart as she placed them on the desk.

  The light from the desk lamp beamed on the diminutive tablets, playing up the craftsmanship of the distinctly carved figures on each stone. Nadine studied the characters, noting the repetition of some. Others were unique, and like many times before, she wondered what meaning they held.

  A short gust of wind rushed through the window, causing several papers to take flight and the pages of her book to flutter in its path. Nadine held down the ones that she could as she waited for the strong breeze to subside. As she picked the
papers up from the floor, Nadine noticed a thin collection of onionskin writings floating down from the highest point of the wooden shelves. She waited for it to complete its descent, fearing the pages might crumble if she attempted to grasp them too quickly. The paperwork opened like a fan as it made contact with the tiled floor, revealing the symbol of the cliff dwellers on the bottom of one of the pages.

  A chilling apprehension overcame her as her hazel eyes traveled from the papers to the necklace spread out on the desk. She stared at the window through which only a slight breeze drifted.

  Ever since Nadine experienced the vision in Sovereign’s hallway, she had tried to ignore an ever-present feeling. The feeling was linked to the dreams she could not remember and information about Eros and the cliff dwellers that would surface without provocation. They were inner murmurings that told her she had mystical links to the island and its people. Nadine did not want to accept these feelings. They scared her. Nothing had frightened her so much since she was a little girl, and actually, what she experienced then had not frightened her, Grandma Rose’s reaction had.

  Nadine was seven and had been ill when the woman appeared in her bedroom as she lay in her bed. She was beautiful, with dark-brown skin and tranquil eyes; her hair was swept back from her angular face. She had worn a nondescript robe, tawny in color.

  Nadine’s fever had broken, and Grandma Rose had gone to get a cool glass of water because her throat and mouth felt dry. The woman entered her room through the door, and at first Nadine thought it was Grandma Rose.

  “You forgot my water, Grandma,” she had barely whispered.

  The woman moved closer, and Nadine could see she was smiling as she shook her head from side to side in a silent no. She stopped beside the bed near Nadine’s feet, and raised her right arm out in front of her. Dangling from her fingertips was a tiny scale. It hung still and unbalanced, though Nadine saw nothing in the small cups.

  The woman’s soft eyes seemed to beckon to her. She wanted Nadine to place her hand upon her own. Nadine knew this even though there were no words that passed her lips. She remembered sitting up with effort and stretching out her arm, then placing her hand upon the stranger’s ghostly hand. With Nadine’s slightest touch, the silver scale balanced, the woman smiled, and disappeared into thin air. Grandma Rose entered the room directly after that.

  “Honey, what are you doing?” She walked over to Nadine, feeling her head, concern in her eyes.

  “The lady wanted me to touch her hand and help balance the little scale she was holding.”

  “What?” Grandma Rose looked around the room apprehensively. “Nay-Nay, what are you talking about?”

  “There was a woman here. She was very nice. And she was pretty too. She just wanted my help.”

  Grandma Rose slowly looked around the room again. “Now child, I know you’ve been sick, but you can’t go around saying things like this. Folks down here don’t take too kindly to it. They’ll have you in the crazy house before you know it. You hear me? Let this stay between you and Grandma Rose, okay?”

  Nadine remembered nodding numbly.

  Grandma Rose started to leave the room but she turned around again. “Nay-Nay.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You know Grandma Rose believes in God and I hope that you do too.”

  “I do, Grandma,” she had replied.

  “Well, there’s one thing you got to remember. Everything comes from God, even the things that might scare you.” She pulled her bottom lip between her forefinger and her thumb. “Even Satan was made by God. Why?” She looked Nadine directly in the eyes. “Because there’s nothing like a good bout with Satan that will make a man turn to God faster than anything else.” She nodded authoritatively. “So you just remember that, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nadine laid back down on the plump feather pillow as Grandma Rose left the room. But she remembered for the rest of that night, whenever Grandma Rose checked on her, she seemed nervous and ill at ease. Out of all the things that happened during her childhood, Nadine realized that was the only time she had truly seen Grandma Rose afraid.

  Nadine’s shaking fingers lifted the document and made room for it upon the desk. She realized some of it was missing. There was no cover page. It had probably gotten lost along with several other beginning passages. The work commenced bluntly, describing several ancient sacred symbols, amongst them the symbol of the cliff dwellers, which it called the “Royal Escutcheon of Mu.” Mu, better known to some as Lemuria.

  “That’s the place Madame Deane had spoken of,” Nadine exclaimed, amazed. She skimmed the small group of pages for a direct reference to the cliff dwellers. There was none. But she did find a chart showing the symbol, and explaining how it had been deciphered and then translated. The chart displayed the same characters that were carved upon her necklace. It called them the hieratic characters of Mu.

  It was 12:45 A.M. when Nadine laid down her ink pen, and read her rough translation of the tiny stone message. Her heart seemed to pound in her ears, reflecting the fear and turmoil growing inside her. She read the startling message out loud. Nadine knew, as she read the prophetic words, the message was intended for her. It read “Lenora, the Bringer of Light.”

  Chapter 13

  “Did it occur to you to ask about the stone after you realized it was missing?” Dr. Steward quizzed her, trying to remain calm.

  “Yes, it did. But under the circumstances I thought it would be best to leave things as they were,” Nadine replied.

  The seemingly endless interrogation over her leaving what Dr. Steward thought might be one of the Five Pieces of Gaia at Sovereign had been going on for the last five minutes. Nadine believed the conversation would have been easier to handle if Dr. Steward showed the anger that lurked behind his questions. She could tell from his heightened color he wanted to raise his voice, but that would have been beneath his cultured, intellectual upbringing. Nadine thought if Dr. Steward would only admit that he was upset, it would have had a calming effect, but that was not going to happen. She saw his jaw quiver with restrained anger.

  “Ms. Clayton, you have not been brought all the way down here to make decisions that work against the goals of the World Treasures Institute.”

  “Maybe the slab had no significance at all for our purposes. I kept it just because of a hunch. It wasn’t among the articles that were designated for me to catalog,” she added lamely in her own defense, wishing she had never mentioned it.

  There were so many things on her mind when she arrived in the office early that morning; the deciphering of the necklace the night before, and its significance, had been foremost in her thoughts. She was glad when Dr. Steward arrived shortly afterwards, and inquired about her stay on Eros. She needed to talk to someone about her experiences there. But the conversation had not progressed any further than her discovery of the carved onyx slab.

  “It was a hunch, an intuitive feeling, that motivated some of our greatest minds to create their most sublime works. Hunches should not be taken lightly when it comes to the arts,” Dr. Steward preached, his well-manicured hand rubbing the thin spot on the crown of his shiny head.

  “I agree with that,” a robust accented voice echoed from the hall.

  A gentleman much taller than Dr. Steward’s five feet six inches rounded the door. Claudia entered behind him moments later.

  “Why, Mr. Richarde.” Dr. Steward seemed surprised. He glanced surreptitiously about, as if he wished he had had an opportunity to prepare for the stranger’s arrival. “I did not expect you to come to the office so early this morning.” He put on his best smile. “I thought you would prefer to sleep in after your late arrival last night, and then perhaps do some touring of the island today before we dine this evening.”

  The neatly dressed visitor smiled tolerantly as he addressed Dr. Steward, while his eyes remained on Nadine. “I assure you, Dr. Steward, I have no desire to tour Barbados. I’ve been here many times before. There may be several places
that I’d like to visit in order to check on some longtime acquaintances, but touring is hardly ever on my agenda.”

  Dr. Steward’s cheeks turned a slight pink as he stuttered his understanding. “Of course, of course.” He changed the subject. “Well, I guess you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Claudia Edmunds?” Dr. Steward motioned toward the young woman as she maneuvered herself into the stranger’s line of view. A pink sweater and beige skirt clung to her voluptuous figure, playing up her naturally pretty face.

  “Not officially.” He took the hand she offered. “Enchantez, mademoiselle. I am Etien Richarde.” Then, turning to Nadine, he offered her his hand. “Et vous?”

  “I’m Nadine Clayton,” she responded, aware of the enamored sparkle in his eye.

  “Both of these ladies are working with the project,” Dr. Steward chimed in, and then as to let Nadine and Claudia know the importance of their visitor he announced, “Mr. Richarde is one of the World Treasures Institute’s greatest benefactors. We are very grateful for the support he has shown us through the years.” An indulging smile crossed his thin lips.

  “I am sure you are,” Mr. Richarde commented without a smile. “I thought I’d come by this morning and pick up that paperwork we talked about last night. I want to get this business out of the way so my day can be free for other things, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why, certainly. I have it tucked away right here.” Dr. Steward scurried over to an antique dresser-turned-desk, and retrieved a manila envelope from one of the drawers. He handed it to Mr. Richarde.

  “Merci beaucoup. And now I will leave you to your work.” He turned toward the doorway, hesitated, and looked back over his shoulder. “By the way, I am sure you have also invited Mademoiselle Clayton and Mademoiselle Edmunds to dine with us tonight, de vrai?”