Echoes of the Past (11 page)

She sat at the desk, opened her laptop computer
and waited for it to warm up. She called up the file on her Thunder Bay case.
She’d filled out most of the forms and reports, and only had to finish a couple
of minor things. Once complete, she set up a file for her new case and added
what little information she had. She transferred files from her phone to her
computer. Even with the larger resolution, the image of the bodies had nothing
else to say. She printed off the documents requiring her signature and shut
down the computer. She packed it into the carrying case along with her
mini-printer, and a new bundle of paper. She checked her briefcase, made sure
she had everything she needed, including the two chargers for her cell phone,
and put the briefcase and computer case next to the door.

She shut off the desk lamp and returned to the
laundry room where she folded the items, now dry, and carried them to the
bedroom and the waiting suitcase. That task completed, she turned to the closet
once more and the parcel Audra said she had to open. Reluctantly, she carried
the package into the kitchen.

The plain cardboard box was securely taped closed.
She placed it on the counter, cut the tape, and opened the box. Inside were
three individually wrapped bundles. What had Audra said? Take two, leave one?

Curious to know what the packages contained, she
removed the smallest of the three. She carefully
unwrapped
the tissue and found a pair of buckskin mittens lined with what appeared to be
white rabbit. She laughed and shook her head.
Well, I guess I know which package is staying here.

The second parcel felt a lot like the first, but
when she
unwrapped
it, she held a pair of handmade,
pale buckskin moccasins. The intricate beadwork would have taken hours to
complete.

The last bundle, larger than the others, held a
hand-woven ivory
shawl,
Butterflies had been quilted
onto the fine wool. It the most beautiful shawl Michelle had ever seen. She
shook it out, and examined it carefully. As a quilter, she knew it had taken
hours, patience, and skill to make. The shawl was large enough to double as a
small blanket. A slip of paper fell to the floor, and she reached for it.

These were
made for you.

There was no signature on the note, but she
recognized her aunt’s cramped penmanship. Michelle put the paper in the garbage
and set the box aside for recycling. She carried the mittens over to the closet
and added them to her stash of winter hats and mitts. The shawl and moccasins
she placed in her suitcase. How could these things be her past and her future?
Audra certainly had spoken in riddles. She hadn’t lied to Tasha about that.

She yawned. It was almost midnight, the witching
hour. She shivered. Audra had said there’d be one more dream. Hopefully, it
wouldn’t be tonight.

* * * *

Run! Run
faster!
Don’t stop! They can’t catch
you. If they do, it’s over, and you’ll both die a horrible death. The thoughts
spur her on. The night air is cold, colder than normal for the time of year,
yet she’s soaking wet from her exertions. The stitch in her side cripples her
in its intensity. Her feet ache from stepping on sharp rocks and twigs, and in
one of her
falls,
she’s lost her left moccasin. She’s
felt her uncle’s anger before, and she knows if her father turns her over to
him again, she’ll never survive another of his beatings. As chief, her father
must set the example for his people as well as for her sisters. What she’s
doing is wrong, and if she’s caught, she’ll have to be punished.

Exhaustion
slows her movements, but she reaches the edge of the sacred waters minutes
ahead of her pursuers. She slides into the marsh, its frigid water numbing her
feet, and squats down in the bulrushes, waiting for her enemies to pass her by
and continue to the edge of the lake where the village keeps its fishing
canoes. She begs the spirits to forgive her for violating their waters this way.

The men have
almost reached the place where she veered away from the path. Will they see the
telltale signs of her passing? It’s dark, and the moonlight barely reaches the
forest floor. She hears them approach, but they don’t even slow as they
continue along the well-worn trail.

She moves
slowly through the rushes toward the water’s edge where she’s hidden her canoe.
Last night, she’d risked her life to save him. They’d beaten him so badly, and
there were so many cuts on his beautiful body. His face was a mass of dark
purple bruises, but he refused to leave the island without her. She’d hurried
back to the village so no one would suspect that she’d been the one to release
their prisoner.

All day, she
sat by the longhouse with the women grinding corn for the winter stores. She
knew they hadn’t found him—they’d looked in the waters of the great river as
she’d hoped. They launched canoes and scoured the riverbank thinking he tried
to return to his people, but they are wrong. He waits for her.

She sits
shivering in the marsh, listening to their hurried footsteps as they continue
along the trail. They have no need for stealth. Where can she go? The path leads
to the lake and nowhere else.

She trembles,
and her teeth chatter. As she moves toward the bank where she’s left the means
of her escape, she glimpses the main body of the lake. Unlike last night, the
harvest moon coats the surface of the water in silver, and she can see the
gentle current flowing toward the waterfall and the man she loves.

Why had her
father decided to give her to
Annosothka
tonight of
all nights? He is a handsome brave, but he’s not the man she loves. She hadn’t
expected them to discover her missing so soon. Now, her uncle and husband
pursue her, and if they catch her, the punishment will be more than she can endure.
She’s supposed to be a maiden. What will
Annosothka
do if he discovers she isn’t?

She moves
stealthily to the edge of the water and slips into her canoe. She paddles slowly
but silently along the shore. Thinking she is far enough away not to be
noticed, she begins the trek across the water, but the moonlight betrays her.
She hears her uncle’s cry when he spots her and the sound of their canoe being
launched is loud in her ears.

They are
much stronger than she is. Two men paddling in a canoe eat up the distance
between her and themselves quickly. Sisters, help me, she prays to the spirits
of her people, but the men continued to gain on her. She knows he can see her
and those pursuing her, but he is unarmed, without a canoe of his own, and
powerless to help her.

She is only
minutes from him when she feels their canoe nudge hers, and knowing she cannot
let him be taken again, she does the only thing she can do. She throws herself
into the frigid waters of the lake, feels the water tug at her, and sinks
beneath its surface.

Kicking with
all her might, she forces herself to start swimming and surfaces a few feet
from the canoe.

“
Tayouroughay
!”

She hears
them calling her name and prays they won’t realize there’s a third voice
calling. She strikes out toward the center of the lake where the spirit sisters
dwell as far away from his hiding place as she can get.

As strong a
swimmer as she is, she can’t make any progress with the weight of her garments
pulling her down. She slips under the water, the icy liquid filling her nose
and her mouth. She kicks up to the surface again, coughs, and looks around her.
Their canoe is moving closer. She ducks back under the water, hoping they haven’t
seen her, and moves in the direction of the far shore.

Her lungs
ache and burn from lack of air, she fights her way back to the surface that
seems almost too far away to reach. Her hands and feet are numb, refusing to
obey the commands of her mind. Her head breaks the surface of the water and she
gasps, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of water. She chokes, unable to
breathe properly as the current and her clothing work together to pull her
under again.

She forces
her weakened legs to kick, fighting to keep her head above water, and looks toward
the shore, now much farther away than she’d expected. Exhausted, she floats for
a few moments, hoping to regain some of her strength. She is so cold, so tired.
She hears the water sing loudly and realizes too late the sisters have refused
to help her and have sent her in the wrong direction. She betrayed her people,
lain with the enemy, and this is her punishment. Her fate is sealed. There will
be no escape. She thinks she sees him run into the water. She thinks he cries
her name, the sound carried on the wind. Goodbye, my love. She screams only
once as she tumbles over the lip and the current carries her down the rocky
slope into the waters of the great lake hundreds of feet below.

Michelle woke up coughing and choking. She gasped
for air, fighting to draw the oxygen she desperately needed into her lungs. Her
chest ached. Clear mucus streamed from her nose, and she gagged on the stale
water taste in her mouth. Her hands and feet were numb, her nightdress sopping
wet, and every part of her body throbbed as if she’d actually been the one
fighting for survival in the icy waters. Her heart pounded and the terror she
felt threatened to engulf her once more. The sheets and blankets were
sweat-soaked and clammy. My God! She remembered everything. She’d been the
Mohawk maiden fleeing her home. This was the sin she’d committed. She’d
betrayed her people for the love of a man, but who was he? She still hadn’t seen
his face,
nor
the faces of the men who’d chased her to
her death.

She panted, trying to control her breathing, and
let the tears fall.

After a few minutes, she felt in control enough to
sit up. She leaned across the bed and turned on the lamp on the bedside table.
She shivered uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered loudly. The dreams were always
accompanied by aches and pains, but tonight, they were worse than ever. Her
entire body felt bruised. What had Audra said? One
more bad
dream? Learn from it. Well, it had certainly been a bad dream.

She remembered every detail of the horrifying
event. She panted, frightened, and confused. It had been like a terrifying 3-D
video game adventure. Why had The Three Sisters refused to help her? Had
falling in love been such a crime?

Audra said the spirits needed her help. In her
dream, she’d prayed to The Three Sisters, but they’d refused her prayers. She
thought of the men who’d chased her and her dream lover.
All is not as it seems.
Trust
your heart, not your senses
. Audra’s voice echoed in her mind.

Michelle lay back against the pillow waiting for
her heartbeat to normalize so she could get out of bed and get warm.
At least I know how I died all those years
ago.
Cause of death, drowning caused by severe head and body
trauma associated with a fall down a mountainside.

She closed her eyes and did her yoga breathing to
relax. When she felt somewhat in control, she climbed out of bed and flipped
the switch on the electric fireplace she’d bought for her
bedroom,
hoping heating the room would help warm her. The October night was cool, and
although the room heated quickly, the chill within her wouldn’t subside.

She didn’t have to look at the clock to know the
time. It would be just after two. The nightmares were punctual. If The Three Sisters
wanted her help in exchange for ridding her of these nightmares, bring it on!
She sat on the bed and lifted her sore foot to examine the sole. There was
nothing to see, but it hurt. A missing moccasin, a missing shoe—was there a
connection?

She walked out of her room and into the bathroom. She
needed to immerse her body in a hot bath—the hotter the better. It was the only
way to feel warm again. As long as she didn’t get any water on her face, she’d
be fine. She plugged the drain and started to fill the tub. She went into the
hall, got dry linens from the closet, and returned to remake the bed.

She shivered despite the heat of the room. As soon
as the bed was remade, she stripped off her sweat-dampened nightgown and went
back into the bathroom. To her dismay, although the water was running, the plug
hadn’t held, and the tub was empty.
All that beautiful hot
water down the drain.

Damn! She stared at the shower head. Her body shook
so badly, if she didn’t do something she’d freeze to death. She leaned into the
tub and flipped the lever turning on the shower.

She’d been unable to take a shower for months.
Maybe since the dream had been different tonight, her response to the water
would be too. She stepped into the tub, making sure the water poured down on
her back. As hot water coursed over her, she felt the bone-chilling cold
release its
grip,
and she relaxed.
This is wonderful
.
Since I’m in here, and everything is fine, I may as well wash my hair.
Lord knows it needs it
.

She reached for the shampoo bottle on the shelf
and poured a generous amount into her hand. She rubbed the liquid into her hair
and reveled in the experience. She scrubbed and massaged her aching skull. She
leaned back to rinse the hair from her forehead, not realizing she’d
inadvertently moved closer to the shower head. Water poured down her face,
shampoo stung her eyes. She panicked.

She couldn’t breathe. It was like being caught in
the nightmare, only a hundred times worse. She flailed her arms trying to find
a solid surface to grasp. She became tangled in the shower curtain, its plastic
suppleness feeling like something clawing at her, and her fear intensified. She
opened her mouth to breathe, but water and shampoo suds poured into it, and she
choked. Her throat was closing. She was dying. This wasn’t her nightmare. This
was real. She wasn’t going to wake up—she was awake!