by Kim Murphy
The tautness of his brow eased. “I guess I’ve never thought of it that way before.”
I sought his hand, and a smile slowly crossed his lips. Together, we journeyed through the maze, as we would follow the confusing path in order to seek how I had come to be here.
* * *
31
Lee and Shae
Because of his revelation to Phoebe earlier in the day, Lee sought the dreaming. To help Phoebe would in turn lead the way for himself. As the mist surrounded him, he expected to see the shape of a greyhound. The dog failed to appear, and he fumbled through the fog. He had to take a deep breath to keep from panicking. “Phoebe, something’s wrong. I’m lost.”
“Nay. You’re finding your own way.”
Darkness everywhere. “But the dog—”
“Is my protector. Focus on finding yours. Do you see it?”
“No.” But he heard the flapping of wings. “I hear a bird flying.”
“Good. You can move towards the sound, or allow it come to you.”
Still uncertain what was happening, Lee waited as the sound of flapping wings approached him.
The mist thinned. He heard a caw and spotted a fan-shaped tail. A large black bird settled on a nearby branch. “It’s a crow.”
“The spirit will guide you through the mist.”
The bird’s eyes were a dark brown, but the beak, legs, and feet were black. Lee had never noticed the metallic violet gloss on the otherwise black feathers before. The crow preened its feathers. When it took flight, Lee followed.
The mist cleared, and he suddenly felt dizzy. He collapsed to the ground. Strong hands were helping him, lifting him. They placed him on a mat-covered pallet. His throat burned, and he struggled for each breath.
A woman’s gentle hand touched him, and blue-green eyes looked on in concern. “You’re raging with fever,” she said.
A gourd went to his lips, and she helped him drink. It was difficult to swallow. He managed to choke out, “Phoebe—”
“Lightning Storm, you have ne’er used my English name.”
Lightning Storm? In his muddled thoughts, he seemed to recall Phoebe saying Lightning Storm had chosen him. For what? He felt a cool cloth on his forehead. The refreshing feeling spread from his neck to his chest as the cloth trailed over him. “Phoebe—”
“Save your strength, Lightning Storm.”
Weariness and worry registered in her eyes. He drifted in a feverish daze, floating in a foggy dream.
Dripping water woke him. Phoebe was beside him, and her touch returned. The cloth was cool and wet, and the haze lifted with her deep, tender strokes. She turned him to his stomach, and he felt long and soothing massages on his back. Once flat on his back again, her touches reached his groin. He smiled in fond remembrance.
“You mustn’t die, Lightning Storm.”
But he wasn’t Lightning Storm. He reached a hand to her face and stroked her cheek. “Phoebe. It’s me. Lee.”
She hushed him. “Many have been ill. The kwiocosuck have tried to appease Oke, but the sickness spreads.”
Her words made no sense, and he drifted once more. The crow had brought him here. How did he return? His throat closed, and he could barely breathe. He fought for another breath. Struggling for air, he shot to a sitting position and seized Phoebe’s wrist. “Nooo!”
He blinked. He was in his living room.
“Lee?”
He let go of his grip on Phoebe. “What did I just see?”
“Lightning Storm nearly died from throat distemper.”
A vision from Lightning Storm’s life. He went into the den to the computer. Phoebe peered curiously over his shoulder as he performed a quick search for throat distemper. The first couple of webpages led him to historical epidemics. The symptoms were similar to what he had experienced in the vision, but they failed to name a modern term. He clicked onto a third page. “Diphtheria. It’s rare in this country now.”
“The name matters naught. It spread throughout the Arrohateck, killing many, especially amongst the children.” Phoebe’s face paled.
“What’s wrong? You hinted that Lightning Storm survived.”
“I recall now. Dark Moon did not.” With a throaty sob, she sank to the floor. “My son is dead,” she repeated over and over.
Lee drew her into his arms and held her as she sobbed on his shoulder.
* * *
When Shae arrived home from the conference in Washington, she looked forward to a late dinner of Russ’s fabulous almond-butter chicken. Instead, she caught him rushing out the the door.
“It’s Phoebe,” he said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Get in the car. Lee was pretty upset.”
Although exhausted from the drive, she did as he requested. If Lee was distressed, Phoebe must be in serious shape. “When did he call?”
“A few minutes ago.” Russ pulled the car out of the drive and revved the engine. “He said that he can’t calm Phoebe. Something about the loss of a child. I heard her crying in the background.”
Another interesting development. She was also willing to bet they had been dabbling with hypnosis again. Ready to read Lee the riot act, Shae had difficulty sitting back for the thirty-minute drive to his apartment.
When they knocked on the door, no one answered. Shae tried the handle. Locked. She would have been shocked if Lee had forgotten. “Are you sure this is where you were supposed to meet him?”
“Positive. You stay here, while I get the super to open the door.”
“Lee, open the door.” She kept shouting and knocking. Had she heard a cry from inside? Russ, please hurry. A few of the neighbors gathered around her, inquiring what was wrong. She deflected them as best as she could.
By the time Russ returned with the superintendent, her knuckles had turned black and blue. The super unlocked the door, and they went inside. Afraid of what they might find, Shae held her breath.
“Lee,” Russ called out, “where are you?”
“In here.”
Lee’s voice had been low, almost too soft to hear, but it had come from the room off to their left. Russ grasped Shae’s wrist and led her in that direction. Shirtless and wearing sweat pants, Lee sat on the floor, holding Phoebe, clad in an oversized bathrobe. To Phoebe’s muffled sobs, he rocked her, telling her that everything would be all right.
“How could you blatantly ignore—!”
“Shae,” Russ interrupted, “your patient.”
Shae raised a finger but caught herself. See to Phoebe first. She bent down. Phoebe’s face was tear streaked. “Phoebe...” No response. “I think it would be best if we get her back to Colwell House.” She reached for Phoebe’s arm, but Phoebe clung tighter to Lee.
“Phoebe...” Lee took her face between his hands. “Shae thinks you should return to Colwell House.” Even he wasn’t reaching her.
“I could call in a psychiatrist,” Shae suggested.
Lee shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He was probably right. Any of the psychiatrists she was personally familiar with would want to commit Phoebe, rather than sedate her. Unwilling to give up on Phoebe just yet, Shae was determined to try again. “Phoebe, we’re all trying to help. Russ told me that you have lost a child. Is that true?”
Phoebe gave a weak nod.
Good, at least she’s listening. After twenty minutes, they were able to coax Phoebe from Lee’s arms. A small step. It might take half the night to return her to Colwell House. What of Lee? His stoic face revealed no hint of emotion, but Shae was painfully aware that he was hurting. She would speak to him after Phoebe was settled. Suddenly understanding what Valerie meant on the night of the party, she realized her initial concerns of him becoming involved with Phoebe had been for Shae’s own selfish reasons, thinking no one could replace her. He hadn’t had a steady relationship since their divorce, because he hadn’t found the right woman.
* * *
On Monday, Shae visi
ted the police station. It was the first time she had stopped by for personal reasons since the divorce. At the front desk, she asked for Lee. Nearly half an hour passed before he greeted her with a cup of coffee in hand and escorted her to an empty interrogation room. “How’s Phoebe?” he asked. The lines near his eyes warned her how much sleep he had likely gotten.
“She’s grieving. Lee, you were vague the other night. What triggered the memory this time?”
He motioned for her to have a seat. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine,” she said, taking a seat at the table. “You were saying...”
He sat across from her and sipped his coffee. “It’s my fault this happened. I ignored your warning. I thought I was helping her find out what happened.”
“You engaged in the dreaming with her.”
He nodded. “Lightning Storm nearly died from what she called throat distemper. I went into the den to check the computer and discovered she meant diphtheria. She said many of the children had died. That’s when she collapsed, crying that Dark Moon was one of them.”
“In other words, you’re saying she remembered the event without hypnosis?”
Another nod.
“I’ve reminded you on more than one occasion that her memories are very near the surface. Your session with Phoebe set off a cascade of memories in an uncontrolled environment.”
His concern for Phoebe was written all over his face. “Thanks, I needed the extra guilt trip.”
“Sorry, that wasn’t my intent. Both Russ and I believe that she must have indeed lost a child. Her level of grief is consistent with such a loss.”
“You still don’t believe the dreaming is anything more than hypnosis?”
“It’s not,” she insisted.
“If that’s the case why would I suddenly be susceptible? You said I wasn’t a good subject. ”
“Normally you’re not, but Phoebe has tapped into the one place where you seek answers—your adoption and the circumstances surrounding it, which makes you vulnerable to suggestion.”
He shook his head in frustration. “In the visions, I’ve always seen her seventeenth-century world, not anything from thirty-odd years ago.”
“That doesn’t make any difference. Not long ago I heard you spouting off about the Paspahegh and Arrohateck. You sounded like a fricking textbook. Her world gives meaning to those textbook responses. The Paspahegh and Arrohateck come to life in your mind. In turn, it lends you a sense of identity.”
He rubbed a hand over his chin, as if mulling over her answer. “I’m skeptical, but let’s say for the sake of argument you’re right. How does the use of hypnosis help Phoebe?”
“Until this story of hers plays out to a conclusion, we’re not going to be able to identify who she really is or where she’s from. She trusts you because you’re searching for something similar. Overall, your help seems to benefit her. My only concern...”
“Go on.”
She hated the way he noticed any sort of hesitation. “If you continue to use hypnosis in an uncontrolled situation, it may harm you as well.”
Relief spread across his face. “I’m touched that you still care.”
“Lee,” she grumbled. “I’m serious. If you start believing her story as fact, it may damage you psychologically. Hell, you’re a detective. Can’t you use a more standard method for uncovering who your biological parents are?”
His eyes narrowed. “And how do you propose I do that? The goddamned trail went cold over thirty years ago.”
She waved at him to calm down. “I only meant there might have been some clue that you have overlooked. You may never find them, but I honestly don’t think the road you’ve chosen will lead you to the answers you seek.”
“I’ll keep everything you’ve said in mind.”
“Very well.” Shae stood, and Lee automatically got to his feet. “Will you do me a favor?” she asked.
“If I can.”
“Keep an open line of communication. If you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
“I will,” he assured her, “if Phoebe ever talks to me again. She doesn’t answer my calls.”
“Give her time.”
Lee escorted her to the door. “Who would have thought that we could finally bury the past and be friends?”
“Why would you find it surprising? We were friends before. We just needed to get past the awkwardness.”
“Like the memories of our wild escapades right after the divorce. Sometimes, I wondered why we had gotten divorced. You were—”
“Shut up before your colleagues find it necessary to arrest me for assaulting a police officer. That chapter of our lives is closed and has been for years.”
He snorted a laugh. “Ah, but the memories will remain with me always.”
“Fine. Keep the memories. You just wanted to see if I’d blush or squirm.” She held out her arms. “See. I’m not blushing, nor am I squirming. We had sex after our divorce—it’s hardly uncommon. We fought, then made up in bed. I think we’ve both learned that it takes more than good sex to make a marriage. So when you’re wandering down memory lane, just make certain you recall the entire picture.” Now she was blushing. She felt the telltale signs of heat in her cheeks. Lee’s partner, Ed, had joined them.
* * *
32
Phoebe
For days I could not rise from my bed to do the simplest of chores. If indeed I had lost Dark Moon long ago, hadn’t I already cried my tears? Lee called twice a day, but I would tell whoever answered I did not wish to speak to him. Shae visited frequently, and I overheard whispers betwixt her and Valerie that they might have to commit me. I presumed they meant taking me to an asylum. I had sunk to the darkest of depths and cared not.
On the tenth morn, Meg barged into my room and shoved the curtains open. Sunshine streamed through the window. “I’ve had it, Phoebe. You’re getting up today. Get dressed.”
I squinted away the bright sunlight and hugged my pillow. “I don’t wish to rise.”
She tugged on my arm, pulling me to a sitting position. “Get up.”
“Nay.” I fell back to the bed.
“I’ve already told Lee not to call here anymore.”
I sat up under my own power. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you don’t give a damn how he must feel. You’re being selfish and only thinking of yourself.”
Her words stung. “My son has died.”
Meg sat aside me. “Phoebe, I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through. If I ever lost Tiffany...” Tears filled her eyes and streaked her cheeks. She brushed them away with the side of her hand. “All of us are trying to help. Valerie says she’ll have no choice but to regard you as a Colwell House failure if you don’t start contributing soon. The rest of us have taken on your chores. Carol is already fed up and ready to send you packing. Personally, I don’t mind a few extra chores. You’re in a lot of pain, but you reject our efforts outright. If you want to cry on my shoulder, I’ll sit here and hold you. We’ll cry together, but please stop shutting us out of your life.”
Her words spoke the wisdom of an elder, but I remained unsure. “What if I falter?”
“One of us will pick you up. You’d do the same for us.”
As I stood, my knees trembled. “I shall get dressed.”
Once again, tears welled in Meg’s eyes. “That’s a great start.”
I defied the desire to return to bed. “Did you really tell Lee not to call?”
“I told him you aren’t well enough to speak with him yet.”
“Meg...” I hugged her. “You’re a true friend.”
“Sometimes, we all need a little kick in the butt. When I was doing drugs, I hit an all-time low. If Valerie hadn’t come to my aid, I would have lost Tiffany. Not like you did Dark Moon, but a court would have ruled that I was an unfit mother and adopted her out.”
Like Lee. Though I remained weak, I held renewed dete
rmination. “Meg, aft I get dressed, I shall come downstairs. I will see to my chores today.”
“Good. That herb garden of yours will look like a weed patch if it doesn’t get some tending. I’ve never had a green thumb.”
Perplexed, I held out my pale thumbs and compared them to her dark brown ones. “Neither have I.”
“Get out of here, girl,” she said with a laugh.
Though her words made little sense, I trusted her, almost as much as Lee. Lee. I had forsaken him and worried how I could make amends.
* * *
In 1619, I was again heavy with child. Each new moon I traveled to the river and said prayers for the health of my child. One mist-filled morn, I drank slippery elm bark tea mixed with other roots and herbs to encourage an easy delivery when the time arose. Alongside Lightning Storm and a kwiocos, I proceeded to the river. I carried a white doeskin, white string, and two beads, one black and one white. The black bead symbolized the spiritual realm and the white, life.
Upon reaching the bank of the river, Lightning Storm and I spread the skin on the ground. We knelt. The kwiocos held the black bead in his left hand and the white bead in his right. He extended his arms and recited a prayer to the unborn child’s health as the beads moved betwixt his forefingers and thumbs. “Your child will be a lass,” he said. “She will...”
I caught his hesitation and feared I would lose my unborn child, as I had Dark Moon.
“She will survive her childhood.”
I breathed out in relief, whilst Lightning Storm strung the beads on the thread and wrapped them in the cloth. He handed the bundle to the kwiocos. Then, I retched from the slippery elm mixture. The act rid me of any malady that might harm my child.
* * *
33
Shae and Lee
A small step, but Phoebe was speaking about the past again. Two weeks had passed since the discovery of her having lost a child, and Shae silently thanked Meg for her bold move. Phoebe was moving forward again. “What about your everyday activities?” Shae asked.