by Kim Murphy
Although uncertain what to make of her words, Lee was tempted. What had happened to solid evidence? None of it made sense. “I don’t think I’m ready to fly solo, but I’d like to continue to help you. I’m learning about myself through you. For right now, that’s enough.” He grasped her hand.
On their way to the living room, Lee grabbed a candle from the kitchen. Whether the visions were the result of hypnosis or not, he didn’t care. It had been a long time since he was drawn to a woman the way he was with Phoebe, and the dreaming brought them closer.
He lit the candle. His bathrobe opened slightly as Phoebe sat across from him, and he caught a glimpse of the curve of her breast. His will suddenly weakened. Pleasant thoughts of her naked body pressed against his intruded. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to concentrate.”
Picking up on his thoughts, she asked, “Was most of the night not enough?”
Her distinctive herbal scent mesmerized him. “Definitely not.”
“Concentrate as if you were performing your occupation and your life relied upon it.”
“If I were on duty, you wouldn’t be sitting across from me in a provocative way.”
She glared.
“All right. I’ll try.” Earlier in the evening, Phoebe had told him how she had been kidnapped by the English. She was counting on him. He sat on the floor and focused on the flame. Absorb it. Nothing.
Try again. The smoke swirled to a mist. He spotted the greyhound ahead of him. At a lope, the dog moved forward. Lee made his way through the forest, wearing moccasins and leggings to protect him from the brambles. Where was Phoebe? He had never seen the greyhound without her somewhere nearby.
Up ahead, the dog halted. Sheltered by cypress and sweet gum trees, Lee watched the wooden palisade from a safe distance. He resisted the urge to shoot arrows into the men when they squatted on the privy. With the women and children, he was more patient. Still, he waited. Most of the day passed before a red-haired woman, accompanied by two other women, used the privy. He called to her in the voice of the crow.
Her head snapped around with her eyes searching the forest. He called again. She located him. For a brief moment their gazes met. Though she dressed in the manner of the English, her heart was Arrohateck. Convinced that she had understood his meaning, he would wait until he could help her make her escape.
* * *
28
Phoebe
In the year of our Lord 1609, the Sea Venture had run ashore on Discovery Bay. All of her passengers had safely made land. From the wreckage, the survivors built two pinnaces and arrived in James Towne in May of 1610, a full three months aft Momma and I had left the colony. Now in 1617, I wore a shift and full skirt and bound my breasts with stays. My shoes had hard soles and were made of unforgiving leather. They pinched my feet, and I had difficulty walking.
The church in the colony had fallen into disrepair, but Poppa instructed me in the ways of religion. I had been baptised as a babe in Dorset, but much of what I had learnt had been forgotten. I found the scriptures fascinating but failed to understand how God and Ahone were so very different. When commanded to say my prayers, I gave my offerings to both. The very first time I faced the four winds, Poppa struck my back with a willow stick. Thereafter, I gave my thanks to Ahone in silence.
Though the palisades were broken, the fort was my prison. I heard Lightning Storm’s calls, and I bided my time for an opportunity to escape. Only at night did I dare chance responding to him with the call of the whippoorwill. I no longer tended fields, nor made clay pots. Poppa thought me unmarriageable. I reminded him that I was already married to Lightning Storm, only to feel the lash of the willow stick. He cursed me, saying no matter how large a dowry, I would ne’er find a respectable husband, because I had been soiled by an Indian.
I went about my chores, learning to cook and sew as the women showed me. My knowledge of wisakon was an asset to the colony. Many a woman knew the family physick. I would have shown them where the native plants grew, but Poppa feared I might run off and rejoin the Arrohateck. I felt caged, pacing the perimeter of the palisades. Whilst doing so, I discovered the breaks, so I would know which one would grant me freedom when my opportunity arose, and I signaled the openings to Lightning Storm.
Because of Poppa’s lack of trust, I was always accompanied if I ventured out of doors, especially if my task was to use the privy, as it was located outside the fort. Captain Wynne frequently joined me on my outdoor excursions. He oft asked me what it was like to live amongst savages. Unlike others who spoke in hushed whispers about my previous life, his curiosity appeared genuine. When I told him the Arrohateck were anything but savage, he reminded me of their devil worship and atrocities rendered upon citizens loyal to the Crown.
I held my tongue, for I did not wish him to repeat the truth from my lips to Poppa, only for me to receive yet another beating. Instead, I smiled politely, pretending to accept the English were guiltless. Aft a time, he seemed to fancy me, and I used it to my advantage.
Three months passed, when Captain Wynne and I trod alongside the palisade. The full moon had been partially covered by growing clouds, and there was mist in the air.
“Phoebe,” he said, “I’m going to speak to your father.”
For a moment, I feared what I might have done now, ’til it dawned on me that he was asking for my hand in marriage. “I’m already married, Captain.”
“You were ne’er married in the church.”
“Then I fear my son was begotten without the benefit of wedlock.”
“Phoebe...” He tenderly grasped my hand. “That life is behind you. In another month, I sail for England. I have land here along the James River.”
Land stolen in bloodshed from the Paspahegh. Nearly panicking, I collected my wits and contained my thoughts. Captain Wynne hadn’t been involved in those earlier conflicts. “Your offer is very kind, Captain. I shall need time to think on your proposal.”
“Of course.” He bent at the waist and kissed my hand.
My heart pounded like a war drum within my chest. Knowing the time had come to take flight, I gently withdrew my hand from his grip. His eyes glimmered, and I thought of Lightning Storm. I could feel his presence as if he were guiding me.
“I shall wait another day or two afore speaking with your father. Allow me to escort you to the house.”
“I must avail of the privy first.”
He guided me to the pits outside the palisade and kept watch. Many a man had been filled with arrows when tending to basic necessities, whilst a number of women had been carried off by warriors.
The Captain, with his hand poised on his pistol, peered into the mist for spectral warriors. His back turned, and I slipped off my shoes. I lifted my skirts and tiptoed away. When I gave the call of the whippoorwill, heavy footsteps charged aft me. I bolted. I uttered a loud cry, imitating a warrior the best I could. Without looking back, I kept running. The captain shouted my name to stop.
Soft moonlight filtered through the mist, but the fog thickened. Branches scratched my arms, but I would not halt ’til the colony was far behind me. When I thought my legs would carry me no further, I stumbled. I had no notion how far I had come.
I pressed onwards. Up ahead, I spied the white spirit dog. Aside him, stood Lightning Storm. Voices bellowed from behind me. I reached Lightning Storm’s side, and he notched an arrow to his bowstring. I grasped his arm. “Nay. I am unharmed. My English father was responsible. He survived the sea voyage.”
His muscles tensed. “Your father?”
“Aye. Do not take vengeance, Lightning Storm. You are but one warrior. He and his men will certainly kill you if you should try.”
The voices grew closer, and he lowered the bow. Together, we turned and vanished into the forest.
* * *
I blinked, and Lee’s face came into focus. He remained unmoving. I would narrate the memory of my escape from the colony without hypnosis to Shae at our next meeting, but I had shared the experien
ce with Lee because of his unselfish act of wanting to help me. With each encounter, our connection only grew stronger.
He finally shook his head. “Phoebe?”
I curled upon his lap, seeking the comfort and safety of his arms. He held me close, and I lay my head upon his chest to the solace of his heartbeat. “I’m grateful for your presence.”
He rolled strands of my hair betwixt his fingertips. “I’m still trying to decide how much is real.” Though he shared my innermost thoughts, he still had doubts.
“All is real.”
“You don’t know how much I want to believe—”
I placed my fingers to his lips. “By the time I learn why I have been brought here, you shall discover your own path. ’Til then, accept what we share, not as fact, simply that it is part of us.”
At my brave words, he embraced me. I kissed him upon the mouth, long and deep. How could I love him so completely whilst swirling through the unknown?
* * *
29
Lee
On Lee’s way to the nursing home, his cell phone rang. “Crowley,” he answered.
“Lee. Ellen Hatfield here. I apologize for taking so long in getting back to you, but I had to consult with a colleague to pin down the dialect of the recording you brought in. It’s Virginia Algonquian.”
“Virginia? How is that possible? The language has been extinct for—”
“Almost two hundred years. I know. Is there any chance I can meet the woman you’ve recorded?”
“I’ll talk to her.” He thanked her before hanging up. After driving another mile, he pulled the T-Bird into the lot of the nursing home. Virginia Algonquian—how could that be unless...? He silently rebuked himself for entertaining the thought that Phoebe might indeed be from the seventeenth century, and he went inside. There had to be a logical explanation. He dealt with puzzles all the time without going off half cocked.
He neared his mother’s room, and the staff member who had stopped him on a previous visit met him in the hall. She immediately shifted her gaze and continued on, which was probably for the best. He knocked on his mother’s door.
A faint voice told him to come in.
As usual, his mother sat in the wheelchair near the window with the photograph album in her lap. They exchanged hellos before he wheeled her outside for a breath of spring air. She mentioned a visit from Shae, before showing him the photo album. “I came across this photo the other day.”
Dressed in stereotypical Indian garb of a feathered headdress for a school play about the “first Thanksgiving,” he was about ten in the photo. “I spent two weeks in detention because I refused to wear war paint and carry a tomahawk.”
She chuckled. “You won your point, didn’t you?”
“Not really. It was a plains tribe headdress, and they would have expelled me if I had refused to take part in the play. I spent a lot of time in detention for my disagreements with history teachers.”
With a prideful smile, she patted his hand. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.”
Even now he sheltered her from the extent of other peoples’ prejudices. Why? He thought of Phoebe’s offer. Should he use the dreaming to seek his own answers? He was still trying to wrap his head around the bombshell that his former professor had dropped. Phoebe spoke Virginia Algonquian.
* * *
30
Phoebe
On Tuesday during my session with Shae, I was able to recount my escape from the colony without the use of hypnosis. Like Momma when I had done something that displeased her, Shae scowled. “Have you been using hypnosis on Lee again?”
My connection to Shae was not that of a friend, but a tie which I did not fully understand. “I have ne’er used hypnosis.”
“Then what you call the dreaming?”
“Aye. Does it not give you the answers to which you seek?”
“It moves your story forward,” she agreed, “but I don’t like to see hypnosis practiced by anyone that hasn’t been professionally trained.” I opened my mouth to interject, but she held up a hand afore continuing, “Phoebe, your mind is playing tricks. For whatever reason, you believe you’re from the seventeenth century. I know you’re frustrated by how slow the progress is, but we will get to the bottom of why you’re more comfortable in the world your mind has created. Meanwhile, you could be putting Lee at risk.”
“Aye. If I were using hypnosis.”
Shae let out an uneasy breath. “Very well. I don’t wish to alienate you. I’ll accept what you call it for now. We’ll talk about it later. I’m also sorry to say that I need to cancel our next session, because I’ll be out of town for a conference until late Saturday night. If you need to contact someone before next week, you can call my home number and talk to Russ. He’s familiar with your case. Will that be satisfactory?”
I nodded.
“Keep in mind what I’ve told you, but if you do participate in the dreaming, be careful.”
“I shall.”
She smiled in a protective way like Momma oft had. Even her blonde locks were much like Momma’s, and I had a sudden pang for being held in the arms of the woman who had birthed me.
* * *
On Saturday, I convinced Lee that I wished to see more historical sites. If, as Shae said, my mind was playing tricks and I really hailed from the twenty-first century, then why could I recall naught? More than anything, I wanted to unlock the mysteries.
Lee parked the car in a lot, where behind a gate I spied a house called Wingfield Hall. I had ne’er been in a house so grand. Like many lesser houses in Dorset, the manor was made of wattle and daub. But Wingfield Hall spread several houses wide and had a finely pitched roof, brick chimneys, and glass windows.
Once we were inside, Lee paid for our tickets. We were ushered to a darkened room to view a film on the history of the manor. When the introduction began to play, I became confused. Unlike the TV at Colwell House, the sound emanated from a different location than the picture.
Wingfield Hall was crated piece by piece and shipped from England to Virginia, where it was reassembled as it stood now. The film soon ended, and a tour guide escorted us into the great hall. The walls were wood paneled, and a tapestry with coursing hounds similar to my spirit dog adorned the wall. I tensed upon seeing the armor, ready for use.
Lee squeezed my arm. “It’s nothing more than a display.”
“Aye,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Of that, I’m aware.”
I held my tongue at the missing rushes upon the floors. In the parlor, John Gerard’s The Herbal rested on a table. Whilst living in Dorset, The Herbal was the only book Momma had owned. Rarely consulting it, she oft told me that a true wise woman learnt more from observation than from reading a book written by a man with less knowledge than she in the way of physick.
We continued on. Upstairs in the bed chamber stood a hand-carved bed frame, which few could have afforded. Outside was the kitchen. Cast iron pots sat over a pretend cooking fire. A table held wood bowls and clay pottery. I had ne’er afore seen plastic food. Unlike other visits with Lee, naught triggered a memory. Aft the house tour, we strolled through the gardens, which included brick walls, courtyards, boxwood hedges, and walkways. Tulips bloomed in every color of the rainbow.
When we entered the herb garden, I bent to study a tall-stemmed plant. “Shepherd’s purse. ’Tis used to stop bleeding.” I continued on to a shrubby, foul-smelling five-leaf plant. “Sarsaparilla. A leaf tea cures by sweating, and roots are a remedy against pain in the joints and head.” Next, I came to ginger. “It grows in Spain and aids an ailing stomach. St. John’s Wort also hails from afar.” I turned to Lee. “Do you think Valerie would allow me to grow a herb garden?”
With a wide smile, he crossed his arms. “I like the way you pronounce the ‘h’ in herb. I bet she would.”
For once, no unpleasant memories surfaced. Was I growing accustomed to my situation? We ambled further ’til arriving at a yew hedge that even towered over Lee’s head.
’Twas a maze. I giggled at the prospect, and together we entered. We followed the mulch-covered passageway. A sign pointed the way, only leading to a dead end.
We reached another sign.
“I won’t be fooled twice,” Lee muttered under his breath.
We took the opposite path and hit another dead end. I couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought a cop would be used to solving puzzles.”
A smile crossed his face, and he took me into his arms. “It was my plan all along to get you in here alone.”
I slipped from his embrace. “We must solve the puzzle or endure seven years bad luck.”
“You made that up.”
“Aye.” I scampered ahead, and he followed me in pursuit.
Quickly catching up with me, he caught my hand. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”
“This place brings no memories, except you.”
He gave me a quick kiss, and we returned to the task at hand. At the center was a fountain with lily pads on the water where I felt the spray upon my face afore we began our journey through the maze to find our way out. “’Tis much like being lost in a forest.”
Worry vexed Lee’s brow, and he came to an abrupt halt. “I was abandoned in the forest. Two years old, and I was left there to die. What kind of mother would do that to her child?”
Aware that he was finally unburdening his soul to me, I said, “Mayhap she had no choice, like when the English abducted me and left Dark Moon behind.”
His right hand curled to a fist. “There was no evidence of any foul play at the scene.”
“Because you have lived through it, you are blinded from thinking like a cop. I oft ponder the lad who vanished aft the attack on the Paspahegh town. I vowed to keep him safe, but he wandered away, whilst I slumbered. I hope someone found him, but I fear he may have died—alone.”