Phoebe had gotten the baby to sleep round ten. Cranky and running a fever, Heather was teething. Though Lee’s job often kept him late, he usually called. Barely able to keep her eyes open, she readied for bed. Too tired to fight sleep any longer, she slipped under the covers and drifted. The bed creaked, and the warmth of someone moved next to her. “Lee?” she murmured, still half asleep.
His lips met hers. “Phoebe...”
He trembled, but his hands touched and explored her body. Many times his job distressed him. Sensing his need and intensity, she wouldn’t question him until he was ready to talk about it. ’Til then, she gave in the way she could. He raised her nightgown and clung to her, almost desperately.
Their fingers intertwined, and he was inside her. Vexed about what had happened, she comforted him. Had he investigated a heinous murder? Or the death of a child? Even afore Heather’s birth, any child’s death nearly sent him over the edge. She ran her hands from the firm muscles of his shoulders down along his bare back. Moving in synchrony, she breathed his name aloud. Like riding an ocean wave, she drifted against him—faster and higher.
The surf crashed ashore, and he held and kissed her as if ne’er wanting to let her go. “Thank you,” he whispered afore moving to her side.
She held him, and he trembled once more. Patiently she waited, hoping he would speak about what ailed him, but he remained silent. Phoebe ran her fingertips through his hair. She imagined seeing him in the light of day. His hair was black, much shorter than his ancestors, and he had dark brown eyes and brown skin. They had known each other since childhood, but then they had been separated—by time itself—only to be reunited years later.
“I think I’ve seen my death.”
His words had been so matter of fact that she shivered.
“Phoebe, I’m not afraid. I’ve seen too much death to be afraid.”
His voice had been distant, almost monotone. Needing to see his face, she reached aside the bed and switched on a light. His brow was vexed and his eyes thoughtful. “Tell me what has happened.”
“I can’t.”
Dead. At the mere thought of losing him, her heart pounded. “Lee—”
“What good would it do to tell you about something that I don’t understand myself?”
She gripped his hand. “Mayhap we can figure it out together. Lee, we have been through too much for you to remain silent now.”
His gaze grew fixed, and he let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, Phoebe. I shouldn’t have frightened you the way I did.” He kissed her on the lips and settled back. “A human skeleton was uncovered a couple of months back. It turned out to be Native, and I thought it was a sign.”
“The dreaming might lend you some answers,” she suggested.
“The dreaming.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “What if it tells me that I have witnessed my own death?”
The thought that she could lose him tore at her heart, but mayhap the sign was not the one he feared. Instead, hope could have been behind the meaning. “Then we shall deal with it—together.” She grasped his hand.
“All right,” he finally agreed.
“I shall prepare.” As Phoebe rose, she wrapped a robe about herself. In the kitchen, she collected a candle and matches from the drawer and took them into the living room. She lit the candle on a coffee table.
Attired in gym pants and a T-shirt, Lee joined her. He sat aside her. “I’d like for you to lead the way.”
“Aye.” They joined hands, and she focused on the candle’s flame. Like her momma, who hailed from Dorset in the seventeenth century, she was experienced in the ways of the dreaming. When they had gone to live with the Paspahegh, Momma admitted she was a cunning woman who traveled through realms. ’Twas something she could have never spoken aloud in James Towne. Such a confession would have exposed her as a witch, but the Paspahegh believed such visions were a form of passage betwixt worlds.
Phoebe’s initial dreaming journey had been during her first moon time, and now, she moved quickly through the realms. She found herself engulfed by mist. A long-legged white hound appeared afore her. She latched onto Lee’s hand and the spirit hound’s collar. Together, they traveled through the fog. As they walked, Phoebe felt a contraction in her abdomen. She paced the floor as Lee coached her through the pain. This was a different century than the one she had grown up in. She had dispelled her superstition that men in the birthing room were bad luck and was grateful for his presence. Even so, she had circled the room and said a prayer in each corner to ward off vengeful spirits.
She lay on her side, and the midwife massaged her legs. The contractions became more frequent, and she returned to her feet. Water rushed betwixt her legs. The baby would soon arrive. The contractions came closer together, and the pain intensified. She refused to shame herself by crying out and grasped Lee’s hand.
“You’re doing great, Phoebe.”
“ ’Tis time to push.” In Paspahegh fashion, she knelt.
The midwife spread a layer of absorbent pads on the floor.
She clenched Lee’s hand. More pain. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she resisted the temptation to complain. Her babe would soon be here. Blood ran down her legs, turning the white pads red. The pain gave way to waves of fire.
Lee urged her on.
She felt the babe’s head betwixt her legs.
Lee held out his hands, and she gave another push. He caught Heather in his arms. His face beamed with pride. His presence had been right.
Phoebe blinked and the pain vanished. This was the world of the dreaming. She had relived their joy upon the birth of their daughter. Through the mist, they continued their journey. The room was ablaze with candles. Lutes played. Across from Lee, Phoebe stood in a flowing burgundy floral dress with black sleeves. She gazed into his dark eyes. They joined hands.
“Like the seasons,” he said, “this ring forms a circle. It has no beginning and no end. Neither does my love for you. I devote myself to you for eternity.” To avoid the webbing betwixt her ring and middle finger, he slipped the gold band on her index finger.
Her friend Meg handed Phoebe his ring. “The circle of time has brought us together, binding our love and lives. I join my mind and spirit to yours; in this world and into the afterworld. I devote myself to you for eternity.” She slid the ring on Lee’s finger.
They sealed their pledge with a kiss, and Phoebe realized that her life was now in the twenty-first century.
With a gasp, Phoebe stared at the flickering candlelight. Over the course of more than three years, the twenty-first century had become her time. Still feeling very much like a stranger caught in an even stranger world, she had doubted that she would ever fully accept life in this time period, but now the seventeenth century was almost like a dream. If it hadn’t been for Lee, she would have most likely gone mad, and he had been in the present century for thirty-five of his thirty-seven years. He recalled little of that time.
“I don’t get it,” Lee said. “What does reliving Heather’s birth and our wedding got to do with a buried skeleton?”
“ ’Tis the circle of time. You have yet to make peace with the past.” She removed the leather cord with an arrowhead from round her neck and placed it in his hand. “This is as much a part of you as Heather and me.”
His fingers curled round the arrowhead. “My tribe.”
“Your father. You have ne’er asked his name.”
Lee’s eyes narrowed. “My father was a cop like me.”
“Mayhap the man who raised you was a cop, but your father was a warrior.”
Anger at the horrific loss of his family changed to anguish. He was not ready to delve into the past. They would participate in the dreaming again, and he would learn more. For now, she wouldn’t push him. He needed to uncover the truth in his own time.
The following eve, Phoebe agreed to meet Lee along with Ed and his wife Marian at a local bar and grill. At half-past five, Meg dropped by the house to watch Heather, and Phoebe drove her Fiesta to the restaurant. Unlike the smoke-filled tavern where she had originally met Ed, this establishment had padded chairs and linen napkins. She met Lee inside the door.
Even though he remained in his business suit, he wore the arrowhead round his neck and a copper band about his wrist. Unable to read his expression, she worried that he remained distressed by the dreaming on the previous night. An eve out would certainly help alleviate some of the stress.
Lee guided her to the other room, where Ed and Marian awaited.
“Phoebe!” Ed stood with a kind, smiling face.
She greeted him and his wife afore they all seated themselves round the table. After ordering the meal, they made polite conversation, except for Lee. Phoebe’s concern grew, but Marian asked her about Heather. “Aye, I pierced Heather’s ears the same time I did Lee’s.”
Ed sipped his ale and snorted. “Going Indian on us, Lee? What’s next? War paint and a feathered headdress?”
Lee’s gaze grew fixed. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I am Indian.”
Ed sobered. “Take it easy, partner. You’ve never been touchy about the subject in the past.”
“I haven’t been touchy because you of all people have never resorted to stereotypes before. Or maybe it’s time for a few scalping jokes. Noble savage, perhaps? If that’s not enough, we could—”
“Lee—”
“—pretend how all of us died out more than a century ago to make way for the progress of civilization. Never mind the fact—”
“Lee. You’re right, and you have my humble apology.” Ed glanced from Lee to Phoebe with a concerned expression.
“Sorry,” Lee said. “I didn’t mean... I don’t know what came over me. You’ve always been the first to step into the crossfire when the racial slurs start to fly.”
“That’s why I shouldn’t have joked about it. I’ve seen what you go through every day.”
But Lee didn’t usually react in anger when people made unthinking statements. Normally he responded with sarcasm. Phoebe’s vexation heightened.
Marian broke the uncomfortable silence by inquiring about Heather again, but the remainder of the eve consisted of pinched smiles and small talk.
Relieved when dinner ended, Phoebe returned to the house in her own car with Lee following close behind. Meg wished them good eve and shuffled her own five-year-old daughter out to her car. In the past Meg often remained overnight, rather than wake Tiffany. “You’re welcome to stay, Meg.”
“I know, but I think it’s best that I get home tonight.”
She suspected that Meg detected Lee’s angst. After a quick goodbye, Phoebe found him in Heather’s room checking on their daughter. He touched her sleeping face, then, without saying a word, went into the kitchen.
Phoebe followed him. “Lee, speak to me.”
He pulled an ale from the refrigerator. “I didn’t mean to react the way I did tonight.”
“Aye, I know.”
“I guess this has me more on edge than I realized. I would like to find out more about who I am and where I came from, but quite frankly, for some reason, it has scared the hell out of me.”
Pleased that he was confiding in her, Phoebe took some comfort. “When I first arrived in this century, I felt lost and alone. A six-year-old child can read and write better than I could. I was painfully aware of that fact, but you, Meg, and Shae ne’er gave up on me.”
At the mention of his former wife, he frowned slightly. Although they had remained friends throughout the years, Shae had been the first to reopen his forgotten childhood memories of the seventeenth century through hypnosis. He took a swig of ale. “I’m not certain I understand the connection.”
“I had a connection to this century through you afore we e’en knew about it. That connection can ne’er be severed. You must find what ails you from the past for you have lost your family and tribe. You have as much of a connection to the seventeenth century as I do this one.”
“I never quite looked at it that way before.” After taking another swig of ale, Lee set the can on the table. “Phoebe, I’d like to try the dreaming again.”
Once again, she prepared. Soon, accompanied by the white hound, she walked through the mist to the dreaming realm. Bright lights filled the night sky. Cars rushed to and fro, and the walkways were crowded with people. She sucked in her breath. ’Twas the time when she had arrived in the twenty-first century and was struck by a car. “Lee, I don’t wish to relive it.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “Come with me.”
Up ahead, the mist thinned, and she stepped forward. A two-year-old lad scribbled lines in the sand. His skin was brown and his hair, black. Lee, or Crow in the Woods, as he was known by at that time. As a lass of ten, she had often looked after him for his mother. She watched him play and smiled. But the peaceful scene shifted with the sudden advance of armored soldiers aiming their muskets. They fired. All round Phoebe, men, women, and children fell. Amongst cries and shrieks of pain, longhouses were set afire.
Nooo. She didn’t wish to relive the memory, but she must be brave for Lee’s sake. He was the reason she had been brought to this place in time.
Houses were ablaze, and swirling smoke filled her lungs. On her hands and knees, she scrambled for safety. As she crept along the ground, she nearly succumbed from the heat. She covered her ears to silence the dying wails. The wind fanned the flames. She coughed and sputtered. A wet tongue licked her face. Grateful to see her hound, she wrapped her arms round his neck, and he led her through the blinding smoke.
The smoke drifted and she spied a young lad. He crawled along the ground, crying for his momma. She bundled him against her ’til his cries quieted.
Far into the day, embers and smoke danced into the sky. The screams and shooting muskets came less often. Throaty sobs and moans surrounded her. The lad stirred. At the time, she hadn’t known he was Crow in the Woods ’til she had wiped the grimy soot from his face. The lad was Lee. She had witnessed the English soldiers burn the Paspahegh town and annihilate its people.
Crow in the Woods babbled about his hunger. She rocked and comforted him. Barely more than a child herself at the time, she called for her momma. The duty to keep Crow in the Woods safe had fallen upon her shoulders. At nightfall she huddled with him in her arms, but sleep was too strong to maintain her grasp. She had failed to keep the lad safe. She heard his muffled cries in the darkness and stumbled after him. Brambles tore into her arms and legs. She ignored the pain. “Where are you, Crow in the Woods?”
Mist engulfed her, but the long-legged, white hound stood like a beacon on the path afore her. During the actual event, Phoebe had been too young to recognize the dog was a spirit. She followed him, but the mist grew thicker.
The lad’s cries came from within.
“Crow in the Woods!”
His whimpers surrounded her, but she could not locate him. Then the mist vanished, and along with it, Crow in the Woods’s cries. He was gone.
Phoebe blinked and found herself in her own living room with Lee seated across from her. Tears streaked her cheeks. “ ’Twas as if the mist had swallowed you alive.”
“In some way, I was.” Lee moved closer and drew her into his arms. “I recall the screams, and there was fire all around me. I didn’t remember the soldiers. They killed my mother, didn’t they?”
“Aye.”
There was a long silence afore he asked his next question. “What happened to my father?”
She withdrew from his embrace and dried her tears. “Most of the warriors were away on a hunting trip when the soldiers attacked. I ne’er saw him again.”
“What was he like? I don’t even know his name.”
After all these years, he had finally asked about his father. “I didn’t know him well. Men and women led different paths. He was tall, or at least, he seemed that way with me being a lass. His name was Black Owl.”
His hand formed a fist. “And the goddamn English murdered innocent women and children.” He unclenched his hand and lowered his head.
Phoebe let him grieve for the family he ne’er knew. She touched the arrowhead on the deerskin cord round his neck. “He made this for you.”
Suddenly uncomfortable, Lee stood. “And this is what I’m supposed to make peace with? How?”
“Lee, e’erything in life is linked. You came to this time afore me, and when the time was right you called me here.” She gripped his hand. “We are linked. The past will unveil the answers if we allow it to reveal the message.”
He smiled slightly. “I’ve never known anyone with the knack for speaking in as cryptic a manner as you.”
“Whilst I am a cunning woman, I cannot speak about what I don’t know.”
He kissed her on the mouth. “If we’re truly linked, and I also believe we are, then I can face the journey, whatever it may be.”
She hugged him even though her own worry hadn’t faltered.