Hidden Voices (Tess Schafer-Medium)

by Deborah Hughes

  It was the girl I encountered the last time I was here. I could feel her anguish and wished she’d let me communicate with her. But she kept her distance, holding steady right next to the monument. She didn’t trust me. She trusted no one. Even in death. It had to be a lonely place for her right now. My heart swelled with the need to help her. I asked Sheila to lend assistance and waited patiently to see what happened. Experimentally, I moved my gaze from the boot to the shadow hovering near and she vanished.

  Although disappointed, I was not discouraged for I felt sure she was still around. I closed my eyes and cast out psychic feelers to see if I could locate her again. It’s hard to explain how I did this casting of feelers. I imagined my consciousness expanding outward in an ever-increasing circle from my body. My hope was that as the circle grew, I would become aware of anything lurking nearby. Most of us did this on an unconscious level which was why we often became aware that we weren’t alone even though we heard nothing and saw nothing. Aha. As I suspected. Her energy was weak but she was still here.

  You don’t have to fear me. I’m here to help. Even though it was a silent communication, I tried to inflect compassion and love into my mental voice. Her response was to flash close and enter into my awareness with sudden clarity. For a moment we mingled as one and everything about her entered my thoughts at once. Of course I couldn’t process it. My conscious brain couldn’t handle a sudden overload of information all at once. For just a brief instant, a second if anything, I felt I knew all there was to know about her then she was gone.

  I sagged against the fence, holding the cool spikes between tense fingers as I drew in calming breaths to get my weakened state a moment to recover. It seemed that whenever I interacted with the spirit world, it sapped me of energy. Kade sensed the communication was over and came up behind me. He slipped his arms around my waist and pressed a kiss next to my ear.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded and leaned back against him. His strength seeped through me and I turned in his arms to give him a grateful smile. “I’m so glad you are here.”

  Kade’s returning smile made my breath hitch. Every response to him was strong and exciting. But then it was usually that way for everyone when in a new relationship. It was because we were so positively focused on them. Feelings like that faded over time because the positive thoughts were often replaced with negative ones. As we stood there in mutual enjoyment of each other, I wished that these feelings would never fade. Somehow I needed to keep the negative thoughts that came to plague most relationships over time from entering my mind and coming between us.

  “She was here again,” I told him.

  “Did she speak to you?”

  “No. She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t trust anyone. She’s very sad, Kade. It makes me sad.”

  Kade kissed my temple. “You’ll help her,” he said, his voice confident. “We just need to figure out how. And to do that, we probably need to figure out who she is.”

  “I wonder if she’s buried in this cemetery?” Even as I said it, I felt something was wrong about that. What could be wrong? Either she was buried here or she wasn’t. I straightened and Kade stepped away, sensing I was ready to leave. He twined our fingers together and began walking back the way we had come. “Let’s cross down to the river walk and return to the B&B from there. That way, you can find a spot to do your painting for Barbara. If you don’t mind, once we get back to the B&B, I’d like to have some time alone. There’s something I need to do.” The story I’d started a couple days ago suddenly loomed strong in my thoughts. It was time to write again.

  “Sounds good. While you are doing your thing, I’ll go and do mine, get started on the sketch for Barbara’s painting.”

  Each of us full of purpose, we hastened our walk and I thought again how lucky I was to have someone in my life who understood me so well and accepted me for who I am. As I had a feeling the following days were going to get weird, it was a darned good thing Kade no longer thought I was operating from left field of the Twilight Zone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Once we managed to get Kade settled into his room, he came into mine to see the box of beads. He was quite impressed with the natives’ handiwork and admired the smooth stone which he found equally interesting. After a short discussion on how they could have managed such artistry and I showed Kade the drawing of the necklace, he pressed a quick kiss to my mouth and headed for the door. He returned to his room for his sketch pad and once I heard him trot down the stairs, I ran to my window and waited for him to stride into view. No way was I going to miss watching him cross the street. He must have been aware I was doing so because he paused and turned to look up at my window. We stared at each other for a long moment and then he gave me a wave and continued on. I waited until he was out of sight then turned my focus to my laptop.

  The itch to write was getting stronger. It seemed an age since I began Isi's story. When I told Kade about it, he immediately agreed I should work on it. “Remember what your story writing did for you at the resort.”

  Yes I did remember and with that in mind, I sat down and began to type. I could barely contain my excitement as I did so. It was time to learn a little more about our mystery.

  They trekked through the woods at a quick pace. As the man was so much taller than Isi and the woman gripping her hand, it was difficult for them to keep up though they struggled to do so. Gasping for breath, Isi stumbled. The woman’s hold broke and she stopped immediately to help Isi regain her footing. She called out to the man ahead of them and he turned to glare at them impatiently. When he pulled the magic stick from his shoulder, Isi froze in terror thinking he meant to use it on her. The woman touched her arm and shook her head, telling Isi in that simple gesture that he would not harm her. She pointed to a fallen log and motioned for Isi to sit. Not letting go of her hand, she sat as well. The man stood with his magic stick ready, his eyes moving slowly around the forest, alert to every sound and movement. Isi watched him curiously.

  The woman squeezed Isi’s hand to gain her attention. She gestured with her free hand and Isi understood. The woman wanted to let go of her hand but told her that if she ran, the man would point his magic stick and steal her soul. Isi nodded her understanding and the woman let her go. Isi rubbed at her arms where the man’s fingers had bit into them earlier. The woman’s eyes followed the gesture and leaned close to look. She saw the dark bruises and pressed her lips together. She turned and spoke in a sharp tone to the man. Isi marveled at her bravery for the women among her people would never speak that way to the men who cared for and protected them. The man answered back, his tone unpleasant and the woman’s eyes narrowed on him. He moved uncomfortably and mumbled something that made the woman point at him. She spoke again and he turned away.

  Isi watched the exchange and wondered what had just transpired between them. It seemed to her that although the man carried the magic stick, the woman had the upper hand. Was she the Chosen then? Was she like the Chosen among her people…the ones upon whom the Knowing One bestowed great power? But what of the magic stick?

  The woman pulled something out of her clothing and handed it to Isi. Isi stared at it curiously. It was hard and shaped like a small rock. The woman had one too. She touched Isi’s arm to get her attention and put the hard lump to her mouth and took a bite. She encouraged Isi to do the same. Cautiously, Isi did as the woman instructed. It was dry and hard but not bad to taste. Aware suddenly of her hunger, Isi ate the odd food and smiled her thanks to this kind one who must be of the Chosen. The woman smiled back. She pointed to herself and spoke slow and clear, dragging out the sounds she made. “Nee naaa.” She pointed to Isi and gestured a question. Then she pointed to the man. “Giiii ells.”

  She was giving Isi their names. How odd. When the woman went through the process again, Isi decided to cooperate. For whatever reason, the Knowing One brought these strange people into her life and put her in their care. She was not to question this new fate no matter how
sad it made her feel. Pointing to herself, Isi spoke. “Isi.” She pointed to the woman. “Nina.” Then she gestured to the man. “Giles.”

  The woman’s smile was bright and warm. It eased some of the pain in Isi’s heart. “Isi. Nina. Giles.” She pointed to each in turn and then nodded her satisfaction. They were communicating. Hope surged within her chest. Maybe someday Isi might see her people again.

  I stopped writing at this point and orientated myself back into my own life. While typing that story, it's like I am in another time and place. It was quite a challenge for me to write her story for Isi did not know things as I knew them. Though I found myself wanting to give name to the things Isi described, I let her control the writing to a degree. I was pretty sure Isi was referring to the dandelion flower when making a comparison to Nina’s hair. I thought it curious how Isi used the world around her to describe things, such as the man’s eyes being the color of the sea when angry and the woman’s eyes being the color of the sky at dawn. Obviously shades of blue. Interesting. But even as I provided the words, I knew Isi didn’t call the sky by the same name. Her thoughts were foreign and I interpreted them to my own understanding as I went along. It was an interesting process.

  With my story focused on Isi and her plight, it made me think about America’s history with the Native American Indians and it all made me sad. Their arrows were not as effective as our guns and so we won the land from them with a distinctly unfair advantage. History was full of much sadness.

  Heaving a sigh, I stood and stretched. So, was Isi the girl at the cemetery? I didn’t think so, it didn’t sound right. But then why was I writing this story? Obviously Isi was an Indian Native though I had no idea what tribe she hailed from. I knew at one time that the colonists were under orders to shoot all natives on sight. All of them. Woman, children, even babies. The horror of it was beyond my comprehension. Why were we such a cruel species? How could anyone carry out orders like that? Obviously Nina and Giles were not as willing to comply. My impression of Isi was that of a young girl of about twelve. It was her young age that must have stopped Giles from shooting her on site. Either that or Nina hadn’t let him. She obviously had some pull with the man. So who were they? Did the Indians have names like Isi? Of course, the names of my characters didn’t always have any meaning. I learned that much from before.

  Someone entered the foyer downstairs and then I heard the murmur of a male voice and knew that Kade was back. I saved my work, closed my laptop and hurried from my room. It was time to be with Kade again and find something to eat.

  ***

  Kade and I had lunch at the town’s one and only Chinese restaurant and I told him about my story while we ate. We both speculated over it and wondered if Isi was some sort of relation to Big Red.

  “But Isi wasn’t covered in red, Kade, and besides, she interacted with settlers and the Red Paint Indians wouldn’t have done so since they died thousands of years before we arrived in the Americas.”

  “Maybe she’s a descendent then? They might not all have died. Surely some of them would have integrated with other tribes?”

  It was a logical suggestion and it had some merit but I didn’t get a strong feeling that Isi’s story had anything to do with Colonel Buck and his curse. I thought about the spiritual merge with the Indian girl that I experienced while holding the rock. The girl in that vision could possibly be an early ancestor of Isi’s if Kade’s theory was correct. But the question still remained, how did any of that have a connection to Jonathan Buck and his cursed monument? “I still don’t get how these Indian clues have anything to do with Colonel Buck’s curse.”

  “Well, it could be as you said earlier, it isn’t cursed at all.”

  “True.” I thought about our wishing upon that elongated heart stained into Buck’s monument and hoped the wish came true…magical curses or not. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. But I also wasn’t sure I was ready to invite anyone into it on a permanent basis anytime soon either. Now, however, was not the time for thinking about that. “It seems the longer I stay here, the more confused I get.” Before Kade could respond, my cell phone rang and I glanced at the caller ID. It was Mary. Hoping everything was okay and she wasn’t calling with more bad news, I hurried to answer. “Hi, Mary!”

  There was a slight pause and then Mary spoke, her voice low and wobbly. “Tess? I just needed…” She drew in a ragged breath. “I needed to talk to someone.” A choked sob followed and before I could respond, Mary rushed on as if she needed to get the words out quickly or not at all. “Mom received the final eviction notice this morning.” Another sob escaped and then, “I don’t know what we are going to do.” She broke down then and I knew she wasn’t going to hear a thing I said.

  “Mary, I’ll be right there.” When she didn’t respond, I repeated my intent. “Okay, Mary? I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” It was barely audible but at least she responded.

  I stood and grabbed my sweater, looking at Kade and hoping he’d understand. “We need to get over to Mary’s place. Her mother received the eviction notice.”

  Kade didn’t hesitate. He called the waitress over and asked for the bill then handed her some money. “Keep the change.”

  We were out the door and on our way within a minute of Mary’s call. It was a short drive to their house so I talked quickly, filling Kade in on the family. What little I knew. I also told him about all the spirits that had gathered there and then followed me back to the B&B.

  “Well, you say the family is descended from a Native American tribe, surely it must have been some of them that you attracted there? They did have a pretty bloody ending to a lot of their lives, maybe they haven’t recovered from that yet.”

  “Normally, Kade, I would agree with you, but I think there’s more to it than that.” I glanced at him briefly before returning my attention to the road. “Mary’s father believed he was a descendant of the Penobscot Indian tribe. So, what does Big Red have to do with it? He’s the one that chased me into the B&B after following me back from Mary’s.”

  “It certainly is puzzling.”

  We pulled into the driveway of the Rowans’ home and Kade looked appreciatively at the architecture. “Nice place. Big.”

  We stepped out of the car and stood for a moment in silence. The unreal quality I experience the last time I was here seeped back into my psyche. It was such an odd feeling. As goose bumps broke out on my skin, I rubbed at my arms and glanced around. Though I felt an energy spike, I didn’t detect any spirits.

  “You getting anything?” Kade glanced around, looking just a tad uneasy.

  “Are you?”

  He gave a shrug. “Yeah, the willies.” He smiled to show he wasn’t really all that scared but he did notice something. I took his hand and pulled him along toward the porch. Mary came out just as we started up the steps.

  “Sorry to bother you, Tess, but I just needed a friend.” She gave me a tight hug then pulled away and looked at Kade.

  “Mary, this is Kade Sinclair. I hope you are okay with me bringing him along?”

  Mary held out a hand to Kade in welcome. Her dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears but she managed to give a faint smile as they shook hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Tess tells me you were in the Marines. Let me thank you now for your service to our country.”

  Kade nodded in acknowledgment of her thanks. “And I thank you. Tess tells me you retired from the Army recently.”

  Mary glanced back toward the front door then motioned toward a patio set not far from where we were standing. “Let’s talk out here.”

  We sat down around the table and then fell silent as the three of us looked out over the flower garden. It wasn’t a tame garden but I liked it. Once I felt Mary was ready, I turned to her.

  “When do you have to move out? Do you have any idea where you will go?”

  Her face expressionless, Mary’s gaze remained on the flower gardens though I doubt she saw them. “M
om and Adam will probably move up with my sister until they can figure something out. She lives in a three bedroom house and has two kids of her own but they’ll make it work somehow.” She turned to meet my eyes. “I called Daniel.”

  Reaching for her hand, I squeezed it gently. “How did that go?”

  Mary’s smile was faint but at least she smiled. “Better. I didn’t get all defensive and hostile like I’ve been in other calls.” Mary rubbed her face with her free hand. “I’ve been such a mess but our talk last night helped.” Mary glanced at Kade and then back at me, her brow lifted in question. “Does he know about the convoy?”

  I nodded somewhat guiltily. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Mary. War sucks. Shit happens and none of us like it. Despite our moral belief that we ‘shalt not kill’, you did what had to be done.” Kade gave her a decisive nod. “He came at you with hatred in his heart. You shot him with love in yours. Big difference.”

  Mary broke down at his words and buried her face in her hands. “I want to accept that, Kade, I do but love doesn’t kill.”