The Hour of Dreams (13 page)

“Because we are surrounded. Our only chance is to go back home and hope to gain favor with our willingness to host their wounded.”

My mother’s eyes bounced between my father’s, my brother’s, and myself, until she finally settled upon William.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She glanced at him and then my father. “That’s it?”

“Yes, and we must hurry before they discover our intentions.”

“William?” I asked, hoping for some sort of reassurance. Anything.

He stoically looked at each member of my family and then concurred. “I think your father is right,” he whispered, breaking eye contact.

“Now,” my father interrupted, and with one hurried motion we were all on our feet, scrambling back to our home.

The trek from Charity’s took less than half the time it had taken to get there, and our spirits were raised at the sight of our house, standing as we had left it. But just as we were about to emerge from the tree line, my father held us back.

“Wait. I will go first.”

“No!” my mother argued.

“I have to make sure it’s safe.”

“Well, what if it isn’t?”

“I’ll go,” William offered.

“No,” I shouted, instantly regretting my outburst.

“We’re wasting time,” my father said.

“Then I’m coming with you,” my mother countered firmly. “It’s our home.”

He looked at her in defeat and nodded. Taking her hand, he demanded we stay behind. Taking a glance at William’s weapon, he said, “If anything goes wrong, you must see to their safety. And I swear, if anything happens…”

“I will do whatever I can,” William assured. They eyed each other in understanding, then nodded, but everything felt terribly wrong.

Leaving their bags behind, my mother and father walked hand in hand across our field as we retreated to crouch in the brush. My brother was restless, so I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and secured his small body to me.

Their walk seemed to last an eternity until, finally, they reached the front yard. All appeared well until two soldiers came out of the front door. My body froze, and William placed his hand on my back, but it only made me more tense.

My parents were about a hundred yards away, but I could make out my father putting his arm around my mother. He was moving his free hand as if he were explaining something. After a few moments, they turned away from the house and started walking back in our direction. I sighed in relief and confusion at the same time, but, before I could decipher my reaction, the two soldiers raised their weapons and fired several shots, hitting both of my parents from behind. My hands flew to my mouth in horror as we watched them fall to their knees. Free from my grasp, my brother jumped up and ran toward them.

Realizing my mistake, I lunged after him, only to fall and scramble as he emerged from the woods, shouting for my mother. I pressed my palms to the ground to push myself up, calling his name. Our parents lay motionless in the tall grass.

William grabbed my ankles and yanked me back, pressing my stomach to the earth. His body was heavy, and I protested and cried out, but he clasped his hand over my mouth. For the first time, I felt afraid of him.

“Please!” he hissed in my ear. “You can’t! I’m sorry!” he breathed, burning my earlobe. I wanted him away from me. Away from us. I squirmed and kicked and fought to free myself. Then, another gunshot sounded, and I knew.

True horror seized me as I caught a glimpse of Andrew falling to the ground.

Anger and fear consumed me as I fought to free myself. In the next instant, I was being lifted from the hard dirt and shaken until I was staring William in the face. “I’m sorry,” he urged, his eyes wide with shock. “I’m so sorry, but we have to go now. Right now. Do you hear?”

Unable to fight him anymore, I let myself fall limp and continued to cry. “I can’t leave them,” I sobbed.

“You have to. I’m sorry. They’re gone. We can’t save them. Please. Your father would want you to go.” He glanced over my shoulder and back to me. “We have to go now!”

“They killed them,” I cried.

“I know. And they will kill us too if we don’t get out of here.”

Had he not mentioned “us” in his plea, I knew I would have never moved, but somehow the idea of losing my family
and
him was beyond fathomable. With a small nod, he wrapped his arm around my ribs, grabbed our bags, and pulled me into a run. Overcome with horror and unable to suppress the urge, I turned back to steal one last glance at my family. As if the horror were not enough, our house was now ablaze.

I wailed and buried my face in William’s side and willed my feet to go wherever he pulled me. After several minutes of running, he asked me if I knew a good place to hide. Although my mind was clouded with sorrow, I was still able to understand our situation.

“There’s a cave,” I panted.

“Show me,” he said, never breaking stride.

After another hundred yards, we veered off into the thick brush, and I found the small cave that Charity’s older brother had once shown us. It was nestled into a hill, behind two large trees, covered by mature branches and leaves. William crept inside and settled me in and then immediately started re-covering the cave entrance. It was dark and cool in there, but none of it mattered as I curled up into a ball of nerves.

I began to feel cold as the daylight disappeared, and it was only then that William left his watch at the entrance of the cave and came beside me.

I felt so conflicted, wanting him near and far from me at the same time, but having him there was somehow soothing, if perhaps only because I wasn’t truly alone.

With a long, tired sigh, I wiped my face and turned toward him. “What now?” I managed to ask.

“We’ll wait awhile longer and then I’ll go back and check on your family.”

It took a moment to process his words. Concern, fear, and hope meshed together in a fuzzy haze until I focused on the hope. “I’ll go with you,” I said, moving closer to him.

“No.” He shook his head.

“But—”

“No. Your father made me promise to keep you safe.”

“But it’s my family,” I argued.

“They won’t harm me if they find me alone.” He paused and swallowed. “There’s no telling what they’ll do if we’re together.”

I wanted to speak, but just found myself swallowing too.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaning in. His stare was intense and I knew he meant it. “Okay,” I whispered.

“Promise me you’ll stay here.”

“Okay.”

“Say it,” he said. The urgency in his voice brought forward the other feelings of worry and fear. I felt cornered and afraid, but knowing he was right, and desperately wanting to know about my family, I gave in.

“I promise,” I croaked.

Nodding, satisfied, he scooted our bags toward the back of the cave and made a place for me there. With one last glance, he made his way out of the cave and concealed it with precision.

It wasn’t very long before I wanted to renege on our agreement. Thousands of thoughts went through my mind as I began to count the time it would take to get there and back, but after a while, it felt too long.

It was growing colder and darker inside the cave, and the moonlight outside drew me toward the entrance. I slowly removed some of the shrubbery and poked my head out. I didn’t see anything that signaled danger. No campfires, no gunshots, nothing.

I motioned to take a step outside, but heard my father’s fearful voice telling me to stay. Frozen, I listened harder, wondering whether it was really his voice, or a memory. Straining with hopeful ears, I listened and listened, but nothing. Once I realized his voice was only in my head, I closed my eyes and willed his words to continue. It was in listening to the memories that I could not only hear him, but see him. Feeling helpless, but knowing he would want me to stay, I shrank away from the entrance.

Just as I did, a twig snapped, stopping me still. I held a sharp breath and instantly wished I was in the corner where William had left me. But all I could do was remain frozen, only a fraction of an inch away from the moonlit entrance.

A moment later, the sound of rustling leaves came closer, and my breath became strangled in my throat. There was no rock or stick or anything for protection within my reach, so I nearly screamed defenselessly when a dark shadow hovered over the mouth of the cave.

“Phoebe?”

“Oh, my gosh,” I sighed, so relieved that I lunged toward the voice. William wrapped his arms around me tightly. Too tightly. His hold was urgent, relieved, and sympathetic all at once, and then I felt what he already knew.

“My family?” I asked.

He shook his head slowly, still holding me tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said in my ear.

Even though I had seen it for myself, his confirmation, or maybe his invitation to let me mourn into him, caused me to let go and cry again for what I had lost.

He soothed me until I felt relief from him just being there. In pulling away, I was able to see his dark eyes in the moonlight, and could tell that he was avoiding my gaze. Despite his body language, there was something he wasn’t telling me. “What did you see?” I asked.

He hesitated, searching for words. “Please, tell me,” I urged, needing to hear the truth.

With a deep breath, he looked down.

“I found them still in the field where they were shot.”

Somehow my pain was mirrored in the creases between his brows, and I knew the recounting was difficult for him.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I need to know.”

His gaze found mine again, and it took everything I had not to let my weakness show. I blinked quickly and leaned forward.

He swallowed and took another deep breath. “The house was burned down. All of it.”

“And they just left them there?” The anger was building.

He nodded and slipped out of his red coat.

“I want to see them,” I said, motioning toward the entrance.

“No.” He grabbed me. “I buried them.”

“What?”

“I buried them. In a shallow grave behind the bathhouse.” He looked away again, like he was ashamed. Or maybe saddened. As I gazed at him, trying to decipher his words and expression, it dawned on me that he was shaken. It was my family, but he’d gone back. He’d seen them like that and put them to rest, even though he didn’t have to. I was confused, sad, grateful.

“Each of them?”

He nodded. “Together,” he murmured, and then he reluctantly found my gaze again. “I would have taken more time, but—”

“No, no. Please don’t.” I hugged him instinctively. “Please don’t. I’m grateful for what you’ve done.” At least I knew where they were.

And he came back.
I was so grateful. I held on to him until I was calm enough to thank him. After re-covering the cave, we lay down, and I continued to mourn silently. He positioned himself beside me, close enough to where I felt his body heat against mine. After another immeasurable amount of time, he put his arm over mine, but said nothing.

Only when a rustling startled me did I realize I’d fallen asleep. It was too dark to see anything, so I sat up with a start and tried to adjust my vision.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m just going to check around outside.”

“Isn’t it too soon? It’s still dark.”

“We can’t wait much longer. Please just stay here until I return.” He silently slipped out into the darkness.

I was too tired and confused to argue, but it wasn’t long until I realized how much I wanted him to return. And not just because I felt even more lonely without him, but for his safety.

When he finally returned, I passed on all pretenses and hurried toward him, securing my tired arms around his neck.

Softly, he told me it was time to go and asked if I could walk. I nodded, realizing our journey to safety wasn’t over, and with a new sense of purpose and renewed strength, I prepared to make the five-mile journey to my aunt’s house, which I prayed was far enough away from the battles to be safe.

I knew the woods well, so navigating them came easily, but William didn’t spare caution, as he constantly slowed me down to silence our steps. Neither one of us spoke the entire way, but we walked close enough to touch. It felt comfortable, even after what was the most horrific day of my life, but it was an odd dependency.

I still struggled with my emotions. On one hand, I felt ashamed to have survived. But on the other hand, I was determined to stay that way for my family. And in between those thoughts, I felt guilty for wanting to be with this boy whom I’d only just met.

And then I started to feel naive and stupid. What was his plan? To run away from his army and live with me? It was absurd. And if not, then what would he do? Take me to my aunt’s and leave me? That idea seemed childish, and I could no longer stand the silence.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

He looked at me and then back toward the path, which was starting to lighten with the dawn. “I’m taking you to your aunt’s.”

“I mean, after that?”

The question sparked another glance my way, but this time he just shrugged.

I frowned and put my attention toward my steps, not having the wit or the words to continue talking.

My feet ached terribly, but we pressed on, hidden in the underbrush, stopping only once to eat some bread that I'd packed in my satchel.

Relief struck as my aunt’s home stood on the horizon, not surrounded by army or fire, but rolling hills, a creek, and cows. Cows that had never looked so pleasant as they grazed lazily in the grass.

We walked across my aunt's yard, William closer to me than ever, with his free hand on his weapon. It was then that the memory of my parents’ approach to our own home resurfaced, causing my knees to weaken. As we neared the porch, William slowed his pace, but when my aunt opened her front door and wiped her hands on her apron, I ran to her. Faster than I should have dared, given the blisters on my feet.

“Phoebe,” she breathed, holding me tight as I locked my arms around her. “What happened?”

Between sobs, I recounted the tragic events, causing her to go limp in my arms. William gently took her and placed her frail body in one of the rockers on the porch.