Phoebe hadn’t visited the area where Lee had struck the deer since Ed had driven her to the spot after his disappearance. She gripped Heather’s hand. Had half a year passed? She had lost count of the months. First, Lee, now Henry. The ache would likely ne’er fade. A long time had passed since she had prayed to Henry’s god, but she knelt and bowed her head, asking Him to accept Henry in heaven.
When Phoebe looked up, Heather pointed to the James River and squealed. A heron fished along an inlet.
“Rest in peace, Henry.”
No sign existed that Henry or Lee had ever been to this place. Four hundred years. And now that Lee had saved the rest of her family, his mission was complete, yet they remained separated. Visiting the site hadn’t relieved her melancholy. She gathered Heather in her arms and returned to the car, where Meg and Tiffany waited. “Find any answers?” Meg asked.
“Nay, only more questions.” Phoebe got in the car and nursed Heather. Tiffany romped under Meg’s watchful eye whilst she finished nursing. Afterward, she and Meg buckled the lasses into their seats. Meg got in on the passenger side, and Phoebe drove along the winding route that Lee had taken on that fateful night. She neared a gas station and supermarket. A voice inside her head shouted for her to stop. She parked the car.
“What’s wrong?” Meg asked.
Years afore, Lee had brought her here. “ ’Tis the place where Lee had been found wandering as a toddler after the attack on the Paspahegh town.” Her breath quickened. Could the portal betwixt centuries remain?
She placed Heather in her backpack and got out of the car. Meg gathered up her cane. She and Tiffany joined them.
“He said that when he was a lad, trees and hiking trails existed instead of this.” She gestured to the strip mall and wandered past the stores. Aside the grocery store was a restaurant, a card shop, and a book store. ’Twas naught here. She sighed.
“I know you had been hoping for some sort of sign,” Meg sympathized. “It’ll be dark soon.”
Phoebe looked to the sky. The sun was on the horizon. Less than an hour of daylight remained. Most of the day had passed without her realizing. “Let’s pick up something for the lasses to eat from the store, then we shall venture home.”
After feeding the lasses, Phoebe’s cell phone rang. She answered, and Shae’s voice came across the line. “Phoebe, are you all right?”
“Aye, I’m with Meg and the lasses. Is something wrong?”
“For some reason, I had a strange feeling.”
“What sort of feeling?”
“I don’t know. Never mind. As long as you’re all right.”
“Meg and I were visiting the places where I had felt Lee’s presence, but we’re heading home now.” After a round of goodbyes, she started the trip home. Along the way, she stopped at a grassy knoll to watch the sunset. A mist formed over the water, and thunder and lightning raged. Instead of seeking shelter, she watched as the storm got closer to the bank.
“We really should be getting back,” Meg said.
In awe, Phoebe remained in place. The wind kicked up. Branches with rustling leaves creaked. Heather clung to her and cried.
Whispering words of comfort, Phoebe turned toward the car. Only she discovered she was lost. “Nay, it can’t be.” Her heart pounded. ’Twas like the night she had arrived in the twenty-first century, except that she hadn’t heard Lee’s voice. “Wind Talker, where are you, my love? I can’t find my way.”
The wind grew stronger. She almost expected to hear shouts from a mob and the flames of their torches behind her. A thick mist surrounded her. “Wind Talker, where are you?”
“Phoebe! Phoebe! Where are you?”
She attempted to locate Meg, calling for her from somewhere nearby. But the wind—nearly a torrent—pushed her deeper and deeper into the mist. She kept a tight grip on Heather, but could barely remain standing. She stumbled over a tree root and crashed to the ground.
Heather cried harder and faster.
To calm her daughter, Phoebe began singing a lullaby in Algonquian. Long ago, she had sung it to Elenor, but Henry had forbade it because she hadn’t known the English words. The song had vanished from her memory ’til now.
The white hound appeared afore her, and she regained her feet. The hound and the wind would lead her to him.
“Phoebe! Noooo!”
“ ’Tis time, Meg.” Phoebe slung Heather over her hip and latched on the dog’s collar with her left hand. The crow floated on the air currents afore her. No longer afraid, she moved with the hound as he traced a familiar circle.
From far above, she peered at the ground below. Cars looked to be the size of ants, and high-rise buildings seemed more like a mushroom patch. ’Twas her first sight of London, and her return to the land of her kinsmen. How they would have marveled at the changes from the rocking and swaying of wooden ships to the flight of an airplane.
The scene shifted. Bright lights filled the night sky, and cars raced to and fro. The sidewalks were crowded with people. ’Twas when she had arrived in the twenty-first century. But the scene shifted yet again. People wore bell-bottom jeans. Some wore headbands. Women had their hair parted down the middle, and men had long hair and unkempt beards. Their shirts were made in tie-dye patterns, and they carried signs of protest. They shouted in unison, “Peace now!”
As she passed the psychedelic-clad demonstration, Phoebe’s heart quickened. She was traveling through time, but where was Lee? “Wind Talker, pray hear my voice.”
A black carriage trimmed in red and drawn by two white horses trotted past her. A heavily corseted woman sat next to a man attired in a black frock coat. Up front sat a coachman in a box, guiding the horses.
Phoebe continued on. Buildings on the waterfront burned, and men in redcoats ran betwixt them. The centuries floated by faster than her mind could comprehend, but the hound kept walking forward. She spied a light and at last, she heard a voice. ’Twasn’t Wind Talker, but... “Henry.”
He stood afore her. “Phoebe, I’m at peace. I have rejoined my Mary and only wish to say goodbye.”
“But Henry—”
“ ’Tis the way it’s meant to be. But Phoebe, danger lies ahead.”
“Danger?”
“Aye, you will once again face what was. I fear I cannot aid you this time. I shall add my voice to yours to reach Wind Talker. Goodbye.” With his farewell, he vanished.
The hound guided her forward, and the wind was at her back. On and on ’til her legs grew weary. Her body ached from carrying Heather. The mist grew thinner. She emerged from the fog, and the dog vanished, but a dragonfly hovered nearby.
The bearded faces of colonial men stared at her.
Wind Talker.