Walks Through Mist

by Kim Murphy

  On his way out of the room, he laughed.

  “One more thing...,” she said.

  He reached the door before facing her.

  “Thanks for doing the right thing by calling me. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

  He gave a nod and left the room. Before long, Phoebe appeared in the doorway. Shae motioned for her to step into the office. “Are you feeling any better?”

  Phoebe approached her and sat in the chair vacated by Lee. “I had a momentary ill feeling. Naught more.”

  Shae watched Phoebe with concern. “It looked more than momentary.”

  “Aye, I felt poorly. ’Twas not like reliving the memories in your office. They’re shadowy, and I always have a feeling of wellness afterwards. Instead, whilst visiting the park, I faced memories we have yet to discuss and had the need to escape.”

  “Post-traumatic stress. Hypnotherapy hasn’t triggered the same reaction because I make certain to suggest that feeling of wellness before bringing you out of the hypnotic state. You accept the suggestion, which helps us here. Your reaction in the park tells us your memories are just under the surface. You can give yourself the same suggestions to avoid similar reactions.”

  “I shall try,” Phoebe agreed.

  “Good. Now, what’s this I hear about you using hypnosis on Lee?”

  “I have not.”

  Shae sat on the edge of her desk. “He said that you performed some sort of ritual.”

  “’Twas not hypnosis.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “My mother was a cunning woman.”

  “A what?”

  “She practiced the art of physick, but some brabbling tongues in Dorset labeled her a witch because of me.” She spread her fingers to reveal webbing. “I am left handed, and it bears the devil’s mark. ’Tis why Poppa insisted we sail for Virginia. From the moment I can first recall, Momma showed me her ways. The Indians embraced our gifts, rather than fearing us. Like my mother and her mother afore her, I’m a cunning woman.”

  “What exactly is a cunning woman?”

  “I use herbs for healing. Sometimes I call upon the spirits for their guidance.”

  “How does a cunning woman relate to Lee?”

  “With my aid, he summons the spirits. In a way, he is much like me. He has no knowledge of who he is or where he comes from. Through the spirits, he seeks the answers.”

  In all the time they had been together, Lee had rarely spoken of his adoptive status. How could she have missed the signs that he had no sense of past, while Phoebe saw them upon meeting him? Uncertain what to make of Phoebe’s revelation, she returned her concentration to her patient. “Phoebe, I think it’s best if you refrain from using rituals to find out what happened right now. I’m concerned you might remember something traumatic, and I’d be unavailable. Here in the office I can make certain that you recall things in a controlled manner.”

  Phoebe made no comment.

  * * *

  22

  Phoebe

  I pondered Shae’s words again and again. Why should I not participate in the dreaming with Lee? Momma had counseled me that neighbors in Dorset thought the dreaming was a pact with the devil. Did Shae feel the same? Witch trials had been held for lesser charges. Had her words been a warning?

  For dinner, Lee brought me to a place that served American, and I sampled beef pot roast. Whilst the meat was finely seasoned and pleasant tasting, ’twas not dissimilar to the stews I had oft cooked during my time with the Arrohateck. How I longed to return to that world, for ’twas the last time I had felt truly happy. But I could not deny the connection to the man who sat across from me. I had yet to visualize the hows and whys, but something bonded us. In time, I would uncover the answer, but I feared he would pull away from me afore I understood the significance. More importantly, did he believe I had led him astray?

  Throughout much of the meal, he seemed melancholy. He spent more time spearing the peas on his plate than consuming them. All the while, I studied his face. Like an Arrohateck warrior, he failed to display his emotions easily. Lightning Storm was much the same, yet as his wife, I was familiar with his thoughts. In that regard, Lee differed. I was certain he would open to me if given half the chance.

  “You do not need to bring me to the ordinary every time we are together. I am capable of cooking.”

  A hint of a smile crossed his lips. “Using a stove?”

  “I have learnt,” I proudly assured him.

  “Listen, Phoebe.” He placed his fork to the side of his plate. “I’m sorry about today. I shouldn’t have taken you to the park.”

  “There is naught to forgive, for you have done naught wrong. How could you have known that a visit to a park would cause me distress? Shae says that overall, ’tis good for me to confront my fears. I am unlikely to recall what happened ’til I do, and she has given me advice on how to best recover from my fears in the future.”

  “That’s good.”

  His dark-brown eyes told me what I needed to know. “You’re dubious.”

  His brow furrowed. “I’m uncertain what to believe.”

  I delighted in the fact that he was honest, a trait worthy of a true warrior. “More than anything, I wish to give you the proof you desire, but Shae has told me that I should refrain from the dreaming.”

  “It’s probably for the best.” His voice had been abrupt, and as if noticing it himself, he softened his tone. “If you like, I’ll return you to Colwell House.”

  I finally understood. ’Twas not my initial fear. Though he would ne’er admit as much, he was afraid. Certainly not of death, for he faced it everyday, but exactly what, I had yet to uncover. “I do not wish to return to Colwell House. You vowed to be my humble servant.”

  His brow slackened, but his jaw remained taut.

  “Lee, you have no obligation to me. I shall return to Colwell House if that is your wish.”

  “I don’t know what I want. Part of me says to forget this whole farce.” He threw some currency on the table to pay for our meal, stood, and helped me to my feet.

  Whilst I did not totally comprehend his words, I gained the essence of his meaning. “And the other part?”

  He muttered something unintelligible and escorted me to the car. Such vehicles still frightened me, and I oft had nightmares of one striking me as upon my arrival. Lee drove faster than Shae or Valerie, and the car itself had some sort of stick betwixt us that he called “gears.” He gripped the stick and moved it about as he drove. I felt certain I was observing a manly ritual but had no comprehension to its meaning. I gathered his actions might be similar to men racing horses to see who had the fastest. But Lee ne’er traveled with other cars, and he ne’er seemed to win anything, except for being the first to reach a red light. And when that happened, he uttered blasphemies.

  To my surprise, we returned to his apartment, not Colwell House, and as we went up the steps, I felt something anew, something pulsing. I could not recall anything similar, except in my visions of Lightning Storm. My heart had known as much upon meeting Lee in the hospital room. Still, I had held back my desire, for I was uncertain whether a woman of this time held any freedom.

  He closed the door behind us and made simple conversation. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Nay,” I said.

  “You’re welcome to use my room again.”

  Afore he could turn from me, I grasped his hand. Mine was so much smaller that his surrounded my fingers like a glove. And the strength of his muscles—he could crush my hand if he so wished. But neath the warrior’s exterior was the gentleness of a newborn fawn. “Can you not feel it?” I whispered.

  “Phoebe...” His voice had gone soft, and he swallowed noticeably, whilst withdrawing his hand from my grip. “I don’t think it’s a wise idea.”

  Mayhap, I had misjudged the time. “I’m familiar with the ways of men. I don’t expect you to love me. I feel so... alone here.”

  He placed a hand under my chin, t
ipping it upwards, ’til our gazes met. His eyes were a shade lighter than Lightning Storm’s. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not alone? Don’t you see? I would love you.”

  I finally understood, and my breath quickened with his response. “Why fear it, when we should embrace it?”

  He traced a finger over my lips. “Because I haven’t loved anyone since...”

  I nearly twittered with amusement. He was making comparisons similar to my own. “And I have not loved anyone since Lightning Storm.”

  “But what if...? What if you vanish the same way you appeared?”

  I pressed my hand against his hip, where he kept his gun safely tucked away from roving eyes. Though touching the gun and my subsequent thoughts brought terror to my heart, I said, “And what if a bullet should pierce your heart? The circle cannot be complete without traveling the path.”

  He nodded that he understood but drew away. Fearful that he was leaving, I crossed my arms and hugged myself. I was alone. He turned back, and his mouth met mine in a burning hunger. My arms went around his neck, and he picked me up in his arms and carried me towards the bedroom. “You don’t know how long I’ve been holding back,” he said.

  Once inside the bedroom, he set me down so that I stood next to him. He helped me remove my dress, but I, on the other hand, had no clue about men’s garments from this time. His shirt was similar to my dress, with no buttons or laces, but he was more than a head taller than I.

  Seeing my difficulty, he stripped off his shirt. His scent was neither fetid, like that of so many of the English of my day, nor slightly musky, like that of the Arrohateck. I luxuriated in his masculine smell. Unlike the Indians of the seventeenth century, he wore his black hair cropped short. His chest was hairless, and my fingertips traveled down the broad expanse of his muscles until I reached the leather strap that held his gun. I withdrew as if I had been scalded.

  “I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized. He went through a ritual that I had never seen a colonist perform. He removed something called a magazine, checked the chamber, and locked the gun away in a box. “I hope I haven’t ruined the mood.” He took my hands and kissed my fingers.

  “Guns frighten me,” I said with a tremble. “But I know not why.” I had meant to relish the moment, not engage in dreary conversation. “My fear is gone now, for I am with you.”

  My reassurance was all he needed to hear. Aft another kiss, he slipped my petticoat over my head, and my momentary fright vanished. I had refused to wear the binding garment that Shae had called a bra aft leaving the hospital. I slipped off my underdrawers, and he stared at my nakedness. For a long while, he looked at my breasts, and the serpent tattoos coiled around them. His gaze lowered, following my midsection to the swell of my hips. He looked at the red hair betwixt my legs and the snake tattoos circling my thighs.

  He reached for me and touched the tattoos upon my breasts in a way that was reminiscent of Lightning Storm’s caresses.

  Again, I forestalled. Valerie had shown me how to work a zipper, but I had little practice. In my desire to view all of him, I got the zipper of his trousers stuck. He gave a nervous laugh ’til, in my haste to unjam the zipper, it caught his underdrawers and came just shy of hitting his male member.

  “I think I had better see to it,” he said, “or the mood will be spoiled.”

  “Aye. I’m a bit clumsy.”

  His face creased in annoyance as he struggled with the zipper. Unable to resist touching him, I caressed his back. Soon, he was free of his trousers, and he drew me into his arms. We fell to the bed together, laughing and kissing.

  I could not recall the last time I had lain with a man, and I reckon that was the reason why I had a moment of hesitation. Instead of entering my person immediately, he explored my skin with his lips and fingertips, putting my mind totally at ease. I reciprocated with teasing strokes of my own. He reached into the chest of drawers beside the bed and withdrew a package.

  As he opened the package, I stared at him in puzzlement.

  “It’s a condom and keeps you from getting pregnant.”

  How could a little, flat device...? I had visions of performing some sort of incantation. “Better than my herbs?”

  “Trust me. It’s more reliable than herbs.”

  “More reliable? I have knowledge of some potent herbs.” When he unrolled the condom over his pocohaac, I couldn’t help but giggle. How similar it was to a scabbard for a sword. I could not fathom many men willing to sheath themselves for the sake of preventing babes. My arms encircled his neck for being so thoughtful.

  Only then did I realize the magnitude of his need. His kisses became more feverish than afore, and in one swift move, he clutched my hips and thrust inside me. His intensity signaled that it had been awhile since he had last bedded a woman. I opened wider, allowing all of myself to him so that we could join each other in body and spirit.

  * * *

  23

  Lee and Shae

  When Lee woke, he felt totally at peace. Beside him snuggled Phoebe. He had no idea where she had come from or who she really was. Why was he drawn to her? Her tales of the seventeenth century were fanciful at best, but for some reason, they intrigued him to pursue further. And the visions. How could he explain them? Dismissing them as hypnosis seemed all too simple.

  There was something more—at the back of his mind. It was like an out-of-focus view through a camera, but when he tried to adjust the lens, the photo got fuzzier. What in the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t normally the sort to have sex with a woman and fall in love. Yet, he had.

  In his arms, Phoebe trembled. She stirred in a nightmare. He brushed the hair away from her face and held her. In her sleep, she muttered in the guttural language that she often resorted to when stressed. Algonquian? He hadn’t heard from Ellen Hatfield and made a mental note to call her.

  Finally, Phoebe breathed easy again. She opened her eyes, and a radiant smile appeared on her lips.

  “Good morning,” Lee said, taking in the sight of her unclad body.

  Her smile widened, and she touched his face as if checking that he was real. “I feared you would be gone when I awoke.”

  “Not a chance.” He gave her a lingering good-morning kiss, when the phone rang. In frustration, he cursed under his breath and reached for it. “Crowley.”

  “Lee.” It was his partner, Ed Bailey’s voice. “Holt wants to talk to you.”

  Holt? A moment passed for Lee to mentally shift gears to a black woman who had been raped. Her case had gone cold nearly three months before. “Does she remember anything new that will help?”

  “She won’t talk to me—only you. She’s here at the station.”

  Unless a minority victim specifically preferred a female officer, he was often the detective of choice. Lee sighed at the idea of being dragged out of bed with a beautiful woman on Sunday morning. Even worse, he was leaving for a definite maybe that the victim could recall something that might help the case. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up the phone and turned to Phoebe. “As much as I’d rather spend my time with you, I need to return you to Colwell house.”

  She traced her hand along his arm. “Do not despair. I understand.”

  In all the years he had been married to Shae, he had never heard those words. Maybe that was what went wrong between them.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Shae received a call from Lee. He wanted her to consult with a rape survivor, at the victim’s request. Three months had passed since the assault, and Lee had no new leads. Shae psyched herself for the interview in her drive across the city. She’d have to take extensive notes from the victim before even considering hypnosis, on the chance the case would eventually be tried in court. Her thoughts turned to Phoebe. At least there had been no more emergency calls over the weekend.

  Upon Shae’s arrival at the station, Lee briefed her on the case. The interview would be in the two-room suite typically used for polygraph exams, with
several police officers behind the one-way glass. She hated the cold, sterile environment. After conducting an extensive interview with the victim, she began the hypnotic session. She decided to use an induction like a TV screen, so the victim wouldn’t directly relive the assault but would watch it from a distance. For two grueling hours, the victim relayed what had happened to her in graphic detail. By the time the session concluded, Lee had already put a trace on a license plate number and called for a sketch artist.

  Emotionally and mentally exhausted, Shae was thankful when one of the officers guided her to a chair and handed her a cup of coffee, while Lee and a female detective saw to the victim. Shae had no idea how long she sat there before Lee appeared.

  “Thanks, Shae,” he said. “I know how much you hate investigative interviews.”

  “If it helps give you some leads, then it’s worth it. I think I prefer amnesia victims though.”

  He smiled slightly. “Phoebe remembers exactly who she is. She’s just missing some of the details.”

  Still numb, Shae was in no joking mood. “Right. She’s a cunning woman from the seventeenth century.”

  “I think she could be telling the truth.” His eyes had grown mischievous, in a way that she remembered when he used to look at her.

  “My God, it’s worse than I thought. You’ve fallen for her. What happened after...? On second thought, don’t tell me, but it’s not like you to sleep with someone, then fall in love with her.”

  His expression sobered. “I did with you.”

  She noted that he hadn’t denied his involvement with Phoebe. “Very funny. We were barely seventeen, and you know how adolescent hormones distort emotions.”

  “I’m not laughing.”

  “Lee, stop it. I don’t care to relive the past.”

  “I’m not. You brought up a point that was untrue.”

  “Fine. So you love Phoebe. Now what? She has deep psychological issues that are going to take years to deal with. She may never get better.”