* * * *
Michelle brushed her teeth, rinsed her mouth, and looked up at her image reflected in the mirror. Tasha was right. She looked like crap, definitely not the best look for her. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was sallow. She looked as if she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in three months, which was pretty much the truth.
She glanced at the clock—half-past ten. She was overtired and irritable, and as much as she’d like to climb into bed, she couldn’t. She had too many things to do. The eerie meeting with Audra had left her an emotional mess. Tasha’s incessant questions about the interview hadn’t helped either.
Rather than snipe at her, Michelle chose to leave Tasha half-an-hour ago when Simon, her EMS boyfriend, arrived at The Thornless Rose, the local pub where they’d gone after leaving Ages Past. She’d battled the wind back to her car, grateful the rain hadn’t started before she got safely inside. She’d been less than half-a-mile from home when the skies had opened up. One of the biggest draws to her apartment had been its underground parking, and she’d certainly appreciated it tonight.
She walked out of the bathroom and went down the hall to the guest room. She turned on one of the two matching Tiffany lamps and walked over to the bed where she’d left her suitcase. She emptied it, put away what was clean, and tossed the rest into the hamper.
Mechanically, she went into the laundry room, emptied the washer, and put the items in the dryer. Her work clothes’ shopping philosophy was simple. If it couldn’t be washed and dried, she didn’t buy it. She changed frequently during the day—the fear of smelling like the dead never quite assuaged—and she needed stuff that could be laundered quickly and effectively. She did have some good clothes for social occasions, but it had been a long time since she’d worn them. Visions of Ron Davies and Tony Steele swam before her eyes. She moved to the closet where she kept her dressier garments. Maybe she’d add a few girlier things this time. She stared down at the box on the floor, the one Audra had told her to open.
Not now. After I do what I have to do.
She repacked her bag with what she thought she’d need. Lastly, she added her favorite cool weather running gear and added an extra couple of pairs of thermal socks, a pair of wool gloves, and a woolen cap. She left the bag open to accommodate the items in the dryer. She got a large reusable shopping bag and tossed in her favorite dress boots, lined rubber boots, runners, hiking shoes, and a pair of strappy heals. She selected a few pieces of jewelry and added them to the suitcase. Satisfied she had everything she’d need, she padded into the kitchen, made herself a cup of mint tea, and carried it in to her office.
She sat at the desk, opened her laptop computer and waited for it to warm up. She called up the file on her Thunder Bay case. She’d filled out most of the forms and reports, and only had to finish a couple of minor things. Once complete, she set up a file for her new case and added what little information she had. She transferred files from her phone to her computer. Even with the larger resolution, the image of the bodies had nothing else to say. She printed off the documents requiring her signature and shut down the computer. She packed it into the carrying case along with her mini-printer, and a new bundle of paper. She checked her briefcase, made sure she had everything she needed, including the two chargers for her cell phone, and put the briefcase and computer case next to the door.
She shut off the desk lamp and returned to the laundry room where she folded the items, now dry, and carried them to the bedroom and the waiting suitcase. That task completed, she turned to the closet once more and the parcel Audra said she had to open. Reluctantly, she carried the package into the kitchen.
The plain cardboard box was securely taped closed. She placed it on the counter, cut the tape, and opened the box. Inside were three individually wrapped bundles. What had Audra said? Take two, leave one?
Curious to know what the packages contained, she removed the smallest of the three. She carefully unwrapped the tissue and found a pair of buckskin mittens lined with what appeared to be white rabbit. She laughed and shook her head. Well, I guess I know which package is staying here.
The second parcel felt a lot like the first, but when she unwrapped it, she held a pair of handmade, pale buckskin moccasins. The intricate beadwork would have taken hours to complete.
The last bundle, larger than the others, held a hand-woven ivory shawl, Butterflies had been quilted onto the fine wool. It the most beautiful shawl Michelle had ever seen. She shook it out, and examined it carefully. As a quilter, she knew it had taken hours, patience, and skill to make. The shawl was large enough to double as a small blanket. A slip of paper fell to the floor, and she reached for it.
These were made for you.
There was no signature on the note, but she recognized her aunt’s cramped penmanship. Michelle put the paper in the garbage and set the box aside for recycling. She carried the mittens over to the closet and added them to her stash of winter hats and mitts. The shawl and moccasins she placed in her suitcase. How could these things be her past and her future? Audra certainly had spoken in riddles. She hadn’t lied to Tasha about that.
She yawned. It was almost midnight, the witching hour. She shivered. Audra had said there’d be one more dream. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be tonight.
* * * *
Run! Run faster! Don’t stop! They can’t catch you. If they do, it’s over, and you’ll both die a horrible death. The thoughts spur her on. The night air is cold, colder than normal for the time of year, yet she’s soaking wet from her exertions. The stitch in her side cripples her in its intensity. Her feet ache from stepping on sharp rocks and twigs, and in one of her falls, she’s lost her left moccasin. She’s felt her uncle’s anger before, and she knows if her father turns her over to him again, she’ll never survive another of his beatings. As chief, her father must set the example for his people as well as for her sisters. What she’s doing is wrong, and if she’s caught, she’ll have to be punished.
Exhaustion slows her movements, but she reaches the edge of the sacred waters minutes ahead of her pursuers. She slides into the marsh, its frigid water numbing her feet, and squats down in the bulrushes, waiting for her enemies to pass her by and continue to the edge of the lake where the village keeps its fishing canoes. She begs the spirits to forgive her for violating their waters this way.
The men have almost reached the place where she veered away from the path. Will they see the telltale signs of her passing? It’s dark, and the moonlight barely reaches the forest floor. She hears them approach, but they don’t even slow as they continue along the well-worn trail.
She moves slowly through the rushes toward the water’s edge where she’s hidden her canoe. Last night, she’d risked her life to save him. They’d beaten him so badly, and there were so many cuts on his beautiful body. His face was a mass of dark purple bruises, but he refused to leave the island without her. She’d hurried back to the village so no one would suspect that she’d been the one to release their prisoner.
All day, she sat by the longhouse with the women grinding corn for the winter stores. She knew they hadn’t found him—they’d looked in the waters of the great river as she’d hoped. They launched canoes and scoured the riverbank thinking he tried to return to his people, but they are wrong. He waits for her.
She sits shivering in the marsh, listening to their hurried footsteps as they continue along the trail. They have no need for stealth. Where can she go? The path leads to the lake and nowhere else.
She trembles, and her teeth chatter. As she moves toward the bank where she’s left the means of her escape, she glimpses the main body of the lake. Unlike last night, the harvest moon coats the surface of the water in silver, and she can see the gentle current flowing toward the waterfall and the man she loves.
Why had her father decided to give her to Annosothka tonight of all nights? He is a handsome brave, but he’s not the man she loves. She hadn’t expected them to discover her missing so soon. Now, her
uncle and husband pursue her, and if they catch her, the punishment will be more than she can endure. She’s supposed to be a maiden. What will Annosothka do if he discovers she isn’t?
She moves stealthily to the edge of the water and slips into her canoe. She paddles slowly but silently along the shore. Thinking she is far enough away not to be noticed, she begins the trek across the water, but the moonlight betrays her. She hears her uncle’s cry when he spots her and the sound of their canoe being launched is loud in her ears.
They are much stronger than she is. Two men paddling in a canoe eat up the distance between her and themselves quickly. Sisters, help me, she prays to the spirits of her people, but the men continued to gain on her. She knows he can see her and those pursuing her, but he is unarmed, without a canoe of his own, and powerless to help her.
She is only minutes from him when she feels their canoe nudge hers, and knowing she cannot let him be taken again, she does the only thing she can do. She throws herself into the frigid waters of the lake, feels the water tug at her, and sinks beneath its surface.
Kicking with all her might, she forces herself to start swimming and surfaces a few feet from the canoe.
“Tayouroughay!”
She hears them calling her name and prays they won’t realize there’s a third voice calling. She strikes out toward the center of the lake where the spirit sisters dwell as far away from his hiding place as she can get.
As strong a swimmer as she is, she can’t make any progress with the weight of her garments pulling her down. She slips under the water, the icy liquid filling her nose and her mouth. She kicks up to the surface again, coughs, and looks around her. Their canoe is moving closer. She ducks back under the water, hoping they haven’t seen her, and moves in the direction of the far shore.
Her lungs ache and burn from lack of air, she fights her way back to the surface that seems almost too far away to reach. Her hands and feet are numb, refusing to obey the commands of her mind. Her head breaks the surface of the water and she gasps, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of water. She chokes, unable to breathe properly as the current and her clothing work together to pull her under again.
She forces her weakened legs to kick, fighting to keep her head above water, and looks toward the shore, now much farther away than she’d expected. Exhausted, she floats for a few moments, hoping to regain some of her strength. She is so cold, so tired. She hears the water sing loudly and realizes too late the sisters have refused to help her and have sent her in the wrong direction. She betrayed her people, lain with the enemy, and this is her punishment. Her fate is sealed. There will be no escape. She thinks she sees him run into the water. She thinks he cries her name, the sound carried on the wind. Goodbye, my love. She screams only once as she tumbles over the lip and the current carries her down the rocky slope into the waters of the great lake hundreds of feet below.
Michelle woke up coughing and choking. She gasped for air, fighting to draw the oxygen she desperately needed into her lungs. Her chest ached. Clear mucus streamed from her nose, and she gagged on the stale water taste in her mouth. Her hands and feet were numb, her nightdress sopping wet, and every part of her body throbbed as if she’d actually been the one fighting for survival in the icy waters. Her heart pounded and the terror she felt threatened to engulf her once more. The sheets and blankets were sweat-soaked and clammy. My God! She remembered everything. She’d been the Mohawk maiden fleeing her home. This was the sin she’d committed. She’d betrayed her people for the love of a man, but who was he? She still hadn’t seen his face, nor the faces of the men who’d chased her to her death.
She panted, trying to control her breathing, and let the tears fall.
After a few minutes, she felt in control enough to sit up. She leaned across the bed and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. She shivered uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered loudly. The dreams were always accompanied by aches and pains, but tonight, they were worse than ever. Her entire body felt bruised. What had Audra said? One more bad dream? Learn from it. Well, it had certainly been a bad dream.
She remembered every detail of the horrifying event. She panted, frightened, and confused. It had been like a terrifying 3-D video game adventure. Why had The Three Sisters refused to help her? Had falling in love been such a crime?
Audra said the spirits needed her help. In her dream, she’d prayed to The Three Sisters, but they’d refused her prayers. She thought of the men who’d chased her and her dream lover. All is not as it seems. Trust your heart, not your senses. Audra’s voice echoed in her mind.
Michelle lay back against the pillow waiting for her heartbeat to normalize so she could get out of bed and get warm. At least I know how I died all those years ago. Cause of death, drowning caused by severe head and body trauma associated with a fall down a mountainside.
She closed her eyes and did her yoga breathing to relax. When she felt somewhat in control, she climbed out of bed and flipped the switch on the electric fireplace she’d bought for her bedroom, hoping heating the room would help warm her. The October night was cool, and although the room heated quickly, the chill within her wouldn’t subside.
She didn’t have to look at the clock to know the time. It would be just after two. The nightmares were punctual. If The Three Sisters wanted her help in exchange for ridding her of these nightmares, bring it on! She sat on the bed and lifted her sore foot to examine the sole. There was nothing to see, but it hurt. A missing moccasin, a missing shoe—was there a connection?
She walked out of her room and into the bathroom. She needed to immerse her body in a hot bath—the hotter the better. It was the only way to feel warm again. As long as she didn’t get any water on her face, she’d be fine. She plugged the drain and started to fill the tub. She went into the hall, got dry linens from the closet, and returned to remake the bed.
She shivered despite the heat of the room. As soon as the bed was remade, she stripped off her sweat-dampened nightgown and went back into the bathroom. To her dismay, although the water was running, the plug hadn’t held, and the tub was empty. All that beautiful hot water down the drain.
Damn! She stared at the shower head. Her body shook so badly, if she didn’t do something she’d freeze to death. She leaned into the tub and flipped the lever turning on the shower.
She’d been unable to take a shower for months. Maybe since the dream had been different tonight, her response to the water would be too. She stepped into the tub, making sure the water poured down on her back. As hot water coursed over her, she felt the bone-chilling cold release its grip, and she relaxed. This is wonderful. Since I’m in here, and everything is fine, I may as well wash my hair. Lord knows it needs it.
She reached for the shampoo bottle on the shelf and poured a generous amount into her hand. She rubbed the liquid into her hair and reveled in the experience. She scrubbed and massaged her aching skull. She leaned back to rinse the hair from her forehead, not realizing she’d inadvertently moved closer to the shower head. Water poured down her face, shampoo stung her eyes. She panicked.
She couldn’t breathe. It was like being caught in the nightmare, only a hundred times worse. She flailed her arms trying to find a solid surface to grasp. She became tangled in the shower curtain, its plastic suppleness feeling like something clawing at her, and her fear intensified. She opened her mouth to breathe, but water and shampoo suds poured into it, and she choked. Her throat was closing. She was dying. This wasn’t her nightmare. This was real. She wasn’t going to wake up—she was awake!
The water, now ice cold, poured over her body, freezing her. She fought to breathe. Terrified, unable to feel the wall, she lost her balance and plummeted out of the tub and onto the floor, tearing the shower curtain from the rod and striking her head against the toilet seat. Everything went black.
* * * *
Tony sat up in bed. He coughed until he gagged. He swung his feet over the side, placing both feet flat on the floor in an attempt to anchor him
self in the here and now. He shivered violently. His heart hammered in his chest, its throbbing so loud he could hear it.
Holy crap! What the hell just happened?
Last night, he’d dreamed of being chased, he’d even scratched his face, but tonight…He’d never had a dream like this. His heart still hadn’t settled, and he struggled to breathe. He covered his face with trembling hands and slowly lowered them. He convulsed with cold. Carefully he stood, not sure his legs would support him, and went into the bathroom.
He grabbed the robe on the back of the door and put it on. He turned on the light and stared at the face in the mirror—his and yet not his. He looked haunted. His hair was disheveled, and his face was pale against the beard growing there. His eyes were shadowed.
He’d recognized her at the onset. She’d been dressed the way she had been in his kitchen, but she hadn’t had her blanket. He’d seen her enter the water and helplessly watched as she was swept toward the lip and eventually down the rocky embankment to the waters below. There was no way she or anybody could have survived the fall. He’d tried to save her. He’d thrown himself into the water to swim to her, but hands, hands like the ones grabbing at him the day he’d fallen out of the canoe, had held him in place, and then they’d pulled him under the water, and he’d gone down into blackness. Despite the robe, he continued to shiver as if the cold he felt penetrated his soul. Would he ever feel warm again?
Echoes of the Past Page 8