Walks Through Mist

by Kim Murphy

  No surprise. Even when they were married, Lee had never been the sort to sit still. “I’m sure you’re making certain that he does.”

  “To the best of my ability.”

  “That’s good. I’ll see you again on Thursday.”

  After a round of goodbyes, Shae let out a breath. What a frustrating, tormented patient. If only she could get to the bottom of Phoebe’s troubles. She sifted through the possibilities. With Lee on medical leave, maybe he’d be open to the idea of attending a session or two with Phoebe. Something about him connected Phoebe to the twenty-first century.

  * * *

  Between Phoebe’s poultices and other medications, Lee’s pain and the swelling in his leg were decreasing. Sometimes, he woke in night sweats, but they were steadily lessening in both frequency and intensity. With massage, stretching, and Phoebe’s dedicated care, he had quickly graduated from a walker to crutches.

  Annoyed at how long it took him to get anywhere, he went into the kitchen. Phoebe stirred something in a pan on the stove. Unable to put weight on his left leg, he moved slowly but finally reached her.

  When he kissed the back of her neck, she turned to him with a smile. “I heard you coming.”

  “I didn’t think I could sneak up on you. What are you cooking this time?”

  She stirred some butter with a wooden spoon and added a dried herb. “I simmer bangue in the butter before adding it to soup. It aids in ridding your pain.”

  Leaning on his right crutch, Lee took a closer look at the herb. Holy shit. “Phoebe...”

  Her eyelids flickered with wide-eyed innocence.

  “What did you call it?”

  “Bangue.”

  “This is what you used in the seventeenth century?”

  “Aye. Farmers used differing varieties of hemp. Some for fiber for linen and cordage. The leaves and flowers of this type made medicine.”

  Lee swayed slightly. He’d already been on his feet for too long. “We need to talk.”

  Seeing his difficulty, Phoebe helped him to the recliner in the living room. Besides the bed, it was the only place he could get comfortable.

  “In the twenty-first century, bangue is called pot, marijuana, and at least a dozen other street names. For reasons that are a bit lengthy to go into right now, it’s illegal. You could be arrested for merely possessing it.”

  Confusion crossed her face. “Even if I’m using it for medicine?”

  “In the state of Virginia, yes.”

  “And you...?”

  “I could lose my job.”

  She frowned. “I did not mean to bring you shame.”

  He stroked her cheek. “You were only trying to help. I can easily guess that it was either Meg or Carol who gave it to you.”

  “Carol,” she admitted. “She said the apothecary shop was ‘out of stock.’”

  He also bet that Carol was still seeing that asshole Fletcher, who would probably like nothing better than to see a cop lose his job for doing dope. “I’ll have a little talk with Carol.”

  “Is that essential?”

  “I think so.” Pain stabbed him in the left thigh, and he muffled a groan. The phone rang, giving him a headache as well.

  Phoebe rushed to answer it and handed him the receiver. “Shae wishes to speak to you.”

  “Lee...,” came Shae’s voice before he barely got the receiver to his ear. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

  “Need I remind you that I’m not moving too well these days?”

  “All I’m asking is if you would mind accompanying Phoebe for a session or two? You can’t use the excuse that you have to be on duty, and I honestly think your presence will help her sort out her thoughts.”

  Aware that Shae didn’t believe Phoebe was from the seventeenth century, he had serious doubts. “Won’t that be a conflict of interest, doctor?”

  “If you’re worried that I’ll pry into your personal life, I won’t. Lee, I’ve come to think of you as a dear friend, and I hope we can always keep that. I only want to help Phoebe, and you may be the key to doing just that.”

  “I’ll ask Phoebe what she thinks.”

  At the mention of her name, Phoebe looked at him with interest.

  He muted the phone. “Shae wants me to come with you to your next session. She thinks it may help.”

  Concern crossed her features. “Are you feeling well enough?”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  She nodded her approval.

  Lee unmuted the phone before returning the receiver to his ear. “I’ll be with her.”

  “Good. Thanks, Lee.”

  After a quick goodbye, he switched off the phone. Even he had to admit that he was worried about where Phoebe’s story might lead. “I’ve been thinking. Once I’m on my feet again, we can start looking for that place in the country. I know I said you could have an herb garden, but promise me, no bangue.”

  “I vow that I shan’t grow any bangue. Will you join me in the dreaming?”

  “I don’t know how...”

  She moved a table beside the recliner. “I can place the candle atop the table, so that you shan’t need to move. The experience should be curative.”

  With some hesitation, he agreed.

  Phoebe went into the kitchen to get the matches, while he struggled to get comfortable. A sharp pain stabbed through his leg. What an ass he was. Why had he agreed?

  When she returned, she lit the candle.

  He tried to focus on the flame, but the pain distracted him. Absorb the flame. He shook his head. “I’m having difficulty concentrating.”

  She grasped his hand. “You shall get there, if you seek it.”

  Squeezing her hand, he tried again. Like the first time, and when he had been on his own, every little noise distracted him—the clock, people shouting outside, and cars on the street. Concentrate. He felt himself sinking, and suddenly he was surrounded by a familiar mist.

  Henry stood across from him, and Lee narrowed his eyes.

  “You have e’ery right to hate me. My ship brought conquerors, then goods to supply the colony, including guns to kill your ancestors. But I no longer think of Indians as savages. My presence is merely to show you what was.”

  Lee relaxed. “I don’t hate you. That, too, is part of the past.”

  Henry bowed slightly. “Then view the past through me for better understanding.”

  To this, Lee agreed.

  Henry swayed in a rocking motion. Back and forth. Wind ruffled his hair as he cast his eyes upon the land. Virginia. At long last, his voyage would soon end, and the sea air faded behind him. They set into port at James Towne, where his goods would fetch a high price. In a hurry to be en route to his own plantation, he shouted orders to the crew to unload the cargo as quickly as possible.

  Within a day, he sailed a smaller pinnace up the James River. Betwixt the forests, plantations dotted the banks with fields of tobacco. Six years afore, he had brought Phoebe along the same route as his bride. Three of those years, he had been absent entirely. First, he had hovered betwixt life and death with the small pox. By the time he had recovered sufficiently to write a letter, he was ready to sail.

  Round the bend, a palisade came into view. His heart skipped a beat. Home. He craned his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of Phoebe. The gate was closed, and he worried there might have been trouble from the Indians.

  He ordered the lads to drop the anchor and secure the mooring. As soon as the gang plank lowered, he disembarked to the dock. The guards opened the palisade gates. Surprised that no one greeted them, he stepped towards the house. When he heard a squeal, he quickened his pace.

  “Henry!” With outstretched arms, Phoebe bounded towards him.

  They embraced and kissed.

  “Poppa said that he booked passage on a ship to England. I thought you had come to take me away. I was going to escape, but... Henry, you’re not here to take me to England, are you?”

  He hushed her. “I’m home.
Everything will be all right now.” With a huge grin, he stepped back. “I missed you.” Then, he noticed her pallor. Normally, she was nearly as brown-skinned as an Indian, but she was as pale as those in England. She had also become very thin. “My God, Phoebe, what has happened to you?”

  A moment passed before Lee regained his bearings. His apartment came into view, and the pain in his leg was once again part of him. “You cared for him.”

  “Aye, but not the way I do you. With Henry’s return, Poppa couldn’t carry out his threat.”

  Henry had been right. Lee saw things more clearly by viewing the world through the other man’s eyes. Henry had loved Phoebe. But what if his own connection to Phoebe was to help her return to her time?

  * * *

  Thankful that Ed was willing to drive him to Colwell House, Lee told his partner to remain in the car before he hobbled up the brick walk on his crutches. The stairs proved even more challenging. Once, Ed got out of the car, but Lee waved at him to remain where he was. Finally reaching the door, Lee caught his breath and knocked.

  The door opened, and Valerie blinked in surprise. “Lee, I didn’t expect to see you around here again. How’s Phoebe? How are you?”

  “We’re both fine. Valerie, I’d like to see Carol, and if you don’t mind, I’d really like to sit down while waiting for her.”

  She stepped back, allowing him to enter. “Has Carol done something wrong?”

  With a groan he seated himself in the chair beside the door, rather than struggling into the parlor. “I’d just like to speak with her.”

  “Lee—”

  “Just get her, please.”

  While Valerie went up the stairs, he fidgeted to get comfortable.

  Carol crept down the stairs. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Forgive me for not standing,” he said, motioning to his crutches, “but I think you know why I wanted to speak to you.”

  She remained standing but avoided his gaze. “I presume it’s about Phoebe.”

  “Why don’t we cut to the chase? I’m not in narc, so I don’t give a damn where you got the pot. I can easily hazard a guess, but if you ever involve Phoebe again in your little drug deals, you’ll lose your sanctuary here at Colwell House.”

  “I—” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Suddenly pissed, Lee stood. Mistake. He collected himself before speaking again. “Carol,” he said evenly, “I’ve seen a lot of women like you. You deserve better than how Fletcher treats you. Dump him. Get a warrant and an Emergency Protection Order before he involves you in something that causes you to wind up doing time or worse. Let Valerie help. She only wants the best for you, and I don’t want to investigate your death because some addict has found your body on the streets.”

  Sheepishly, she looked up at him. “Kevin’s not like that.”

  With her response, he silently cursed himself. “You called me. Carol, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  Her gaze shifted to the floor. “That’s all right. You had other things on your mind.”

  “Was it about Fletcher?”

  She shook her head.

  “Carol, let me help. If you’re uncomfortable talking to me, I can give you the name of a female detective.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Then why did you call?”

  She chewed on her lip. “Phoebe was afraid something was going to happen to you.”

  That might have been the story she had given Valerie, but Lee didn’t believe her. He had blown his chance of reaching her by jumping down her throat. “Call me if you change your mind and want to talk.”

  “If you don’t mind, I have chores to take care of.”

  Lee made his way back to the car. When he reached the stairs, he looked over his shoulder. With a lost expression, Carol stared at him. Maybe Shae could help.

  * * *

  56

  Phoebe

  Life returned to the way it was afore Henry’s leaving. Unlike in the past, he did not sail to England in the autumn. Having ne’er spent a winter in Virginia, he had difficulty adapting to the cold. With nowhere else to go, Poppa stayed in the loft during the winter. We formed an uneasy truce betwixt us. I did not reveal his connection to my whipping, and he remained silent about my love for Little Falcon. Henry truly believed us when informed that I had been caught trying to escape to the Arrohatek.

  By spring, Momma was once again allowed to visit. I weeded my garden, having adapted to planting in rows like the English, instead of in mounds like the Arrohatek. When I first spotted Momma, I thought she was a specter. Startled by her sudden appearance, I dropped my hoe. “Momma?” Overjoyed that she was real, I ran to her and embraced her.

  “Phoebe, let me look at you.” With a proud smile, she stepped back and coughed. “And Elenor?”

  “Let me fetch her.”

  “First, I have a gift.” She handed me the softest deerskin mantle, decorated with shell beads in the shapes of soaring hawks. “A welcome home for Henry.”

  Afore she could speak further or I could alert her to Poppa’s presence, Poppa joined us. His eyes followed the length of Momma’s body.

  Though Momma had ne’er bared her breast in the tradition of most Arrohatek women, she wore a fringed deerskin skirt and a shell-bead necklace. Her long blonde hair, nearly gone gray, hung in a single braid down her back, and dogwood blossom tattoos encircled her upper arms.

  Poppa staggered slightly. “Good God, Elenor.”

  “Robert,” she replied evenly.

  His eyes fixed upon hers. “How could you have brought shame to our family like this?”

  She stared at Poppa. “We thought you were dead,” she replied in slow, but clear English. “Our daughter was starving. What choice was I given?”

  “But to the savages!”

  “You see the Indians as savages. I see them as people. Even though they had little food to spare during the starving time, they shared what they had. I have more freedom than our daughter, and my husband loves me. You ne’er once spoke a kind word or shared a caressing touch—”

  “Enough!” He struck her squarely on the cheek with the flat of his hand.

  “Poppa...”

  Afore I could step betwixt them, Momma raised her hand for me to keep silent. I bowed my head and allowed her to continue. “Silver Eagle has ne’er touched me, except in tenderness. I know which of you is the savage.”

  His nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists.

  This time, I did step betwixt them. “You will not touch her as you have me.”

  “Phoebe?” came Momma’s voice from behind my back.

  I felt her light touch on my arm, but I did not turn. Poppa relaxed his hands. With his eyes seething, he about faced and stormed to the house. He would inform Henry of what had come to pass, but ’twould be to no avail.

  “Phoebe...” Momma now stood afore me. “What has he done to you?”

  “’Tis not important.”

  Momma searched my face. Realizing that I would remain firm, she spoke of the reason for her visit. “The small pox has come to the town. Many are ill. The kwiocosuk are at a loss what to do, and I know not what local herbs may help.”

  I trembled with the thought. Henry had nearly died. “I have some saffron. Henry brought it from England. ’Tis not much but should be enough to aid a few.”

  Nearly in tears, Momma clasped my hands. “Bless you, daughter.”

  Little did I know, I would give away the very medicine my own family would need.

  * * *

  57

  Lee

  After twenty minutes of leafing through out-of-date magazines, Lee tossed the previous year’s August issue of Time aside. If he hadn’t already known that most of Shae’s clientèle was female, he would have easily guessed. After sifting through a Southern Living, Vogue, and Cooking Light, he finally uncovered another Time. Meg stared at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  She couldn�
�t hide her smirk. “Nothing.”

  He’d be glad when he could drive again. Depending on others was already growing tiresome.

  “I doubt Shae gets many law enforcement officers through here, so she doesn’t subscribe to Gun Digest, or whatever it is they tend to read.”

  “Very funny,” he mumbled.

  “Lee...” She didn’t continue until he glanced over at her. “I’m glad that you’re going to make a full recovery.”

  “Thanks. You’ll make an excellent nurse.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” She beamed with pride in her accomplishment. “I graduate this summer.”

  The door to Shae’s office opened, and Shae beckoned him inside. “Lee, we’re ready for you.”

  As he gathered his crutches together, he hoped his attending a session was a good idea. He hobbled into the office. Phoebe sat near Shae’s desk. He attempted to make himself comfortable in the chair next to her, while Shae sat across from them.

  “Phoebe would like to share what she’s remembered today.”

  He listened to her as she recounted her tale. Smallpox before people knew that contact with others transmitted it. And no vaccines. It had decimated most of the native people. He had a fair idea where her story would eventually lead.

  When Phoebe finished, Shae stared at him. “Your reaction?”

  “I’m wondering how my presence now makes any difference than if I had heard it later, like I usually do.”

  Shae had a pinched smile. “At least you’re honest.”

  “Would you have expected anything else?”

  Shae sent him a scorching look. “Please try and cooperate.”

  “What do you want me to say? I nearly busted my balls getting here—”

  “You agreed to come here in an effort to help Phoebe,” Shae interrupted. “Lee, let’s start over. Maybe I shouldn’t have rushed ahead with this appointment. Don’t pretend to hide the fact that you’re in pain. Have you taken anything for it?”

  “Tylenol,” he replied. “Everything else messed with my head too much.” He exchanged a glance with Phoebe. He hated to admit the pot had helped with fewer side effects than anything the doctors had prescribed.