Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (57 page)

Nervous snickers and sighs of relief trickled through the group as they resumed their trek. Emme Merrimoth touched Emily’s shoulder. “Were you scared, Emily? Chased the wits right out of
me
.”

“I, as well. I saw you jump, Emme . . . we were in the air at the same time.” Both chuckled.

Roger Baylye said, “Friends, let us rest here awhile.” He glanced at the tiny patch of fading blue sky above them. “With the Lord’s help, mayhap we’ll be without rain this entire day.”

Emily and Emme whispered, occasionally giggled to one another as they sat by a tree. Emily thought, I like Emme . . . could become good friends with her . . . it shall be so. She glanced at her father and Hugh Tayler as they spoke with Roger Baylye, wondered what they were discussing, concluded it wasn’t her since Baylye was there, but her heart suddenly quickened when Baylye nodded at Tayler and Colman then walked away. She strained to hear Tayler and her father, sighed with relief when Tayler said, “Well, at least we finally had a pleasant day, eh, Thomas?”

“Aye, a pleasure ’twas, without rain.”

The two regarded each other in silence for a moment before Tayler said, “Thomas, I’ve been wanting to speak to you about something . . . could we step over here?”

Emily’s heart pounded like the drums that summon people to a hanging; a gust of panic swept into her mind like a fast-moving summer storm.

“Certainly.”

Tayler led Colman to a large tree beyond Emily’s hearing, resumed speaking in a hushed tone. “Thomas, the disasters and near disasters that have befallen us these last days have made me think deeply about many things, but most urgently about Emily.”

Colman turned his head away, coughed twice, choked slightly when he started to speak. “Excuse me, Hugh. This damnable cough is getting the better of me . . . I’ve always time to talk about Emily.”

“And rightly so.” He looked around to ensure no one could hear, leaned closer to Colman. “We all know our life here is overflowing with risk and danger, and . . . and . . . forgive me for intruding, but have you ever thought about what would happen to Emily if ill befell you?”

“Aye, I have, Hugh . . . but not nearly enough.”

“Well, Sir, I’ve made no secret of my affection for Emily and the future I envision for us. And you
have
granted your permission for Emily and me to court.”

Colman nodded.

“Thomas, I love your daughter more than anything on earth, more than life itself, and I’ll do anything for her. Truly, Sir, the happenings of these days have convinced me that life is too short and dangerous, particularly here, to delay decisions of the heart and soul. So I respectfully and humbly ask you for Emily’s hand in marriage.”

Colman stared mullingly into Tayler’s eyes, wondered why the request hadn’t shocked him. Perchance he’d expected it, he thought. His heart suddenly thumped with guilt as he remembered his promise to Emily that he’d never arrange her marriage; but he quickly discarded the thought, decided the situation had changed, that all of their lives hung by a thin thread, that his own thread had nearly been severed a few nights before . . . not to mention the three times Emily had almost perished. Yes, the situation
was
different now, which meant that considerations that had been inconceivable a short time ago were now at the forefront of his responsibilities as a father, and foremost among such considerations was the assurance of Emily’s wellbeing if anything happened to him. And who better than Hugh Tayler to fill that role? Certainly, the Dares would take Emily in, but it would strain the privacy of their young family, especially now with the orphaned Harvie infant to care for. No, Hugh Tayler loved her to the depths of his soul, and he’d proven it; and she, in turn, seemed quite taken by
him
; so there could be no better choice. Yes, he thought, Emily
shall
marry Hugh Tayler . . . and she’ll do so as soon as we reach the village. He smiled at Tayler, extended his hand to seal the agreement with a handshake. “Hugh, I—”

“Hieeeeeeeeee!” A solitary, piercing, chilling cry, like a man in desperate agony, arose from the forest; all sprang to their feet, faced the sound, reached for their knives and clubs. A dissonant chorus of horrible, unnerving wails and shrieks, like a host of banshees, filled the air all around them. Anxious, unsure feet shuffled toward the center of the small clearing; hollow, gaunt eyes searched the forest, dithered from face to face, tree to tree. Women moaned, some cried, a few screamed; some men whimpered, two knelt, hid their faces on the ground, covered their heads with their hands. The wails became louder. They squeezed closer together, women in the middle, the eight soldiers on the outside. The wailing grew louder, closer, louder still; a ring of twenty Savages, bows and war clubs at the ready, suddenly emerged from the forest, closed around them.

Chapter 13

A
llie kicked off her sheets, sat up, threw her pillow across the room.

“Shit! She can’t get a fricking break . . . nothing but never-ending, life-threatening danger. And I’m a freak because I dream about her every night and think about her all day . . . like it’s all happening to me. This is trashing my life: dreams own my mind, scary, depressing, living two lives.” She shook her head, rubbed her neck. And this stupid little birthmark itches like crazy. Afraid . . . slow death, know what happens in the end, just waiting for the execution: things and people always trying to kill her . . . gonna have to marry a guy she doesn’t love . . . who looks to be a womanizer . . . if the Indians don’t kill them all first . . . and if that Panther guy doesn’t rape and kill her. Friends dying, no future . . . but she doesn’t quit, doesn’t lose hope, keeps on plugging. God in heaven! She’s only nineteen. I couldn’t do it . . . couldn’t even handle Erik without screwing it up . . . and I’m three years older. Wonder how he’s doing. Maybe we should talk, maybe email him, see if he’s ready, maybe hook up for dinner or something. She stared at the wall. I’m so sad . . . helpless, empty, depressed, nothing turns out right . . . for Emily
or
me. Why do I feel so close to her? Sucks . . . but gotta know what happens. Must be a masochist: know every dream’s gonna hurt, but keep on dreaming, can’t live without them.

Wonder who the Indians were. Probably Powhatans . . . probably found them by accident, ambushed them. ’Tis one sorry . . . jeez, I’m starting to talk like her.

She walked to the computer, which she’d left on all night, sat down, typed in
Mestinon
. She clicked on an entry then cross-checked with several other sites and summarized her findings.

        
•
Mestinon - Timespan tablets contain 180 mg pyridostigmine bromide. This larger dosage achieves prolonged duration of drug action—about 2½ times that of a 60 mg dose—but the immediate effect is about the same as that of a 60 mg tablet
.

        
Exactly what I need.

        
•
Overdosage biggest cause of side effects:

Oh yay! Don’t get cute with this stuff. Nothing here about using it with sleeping pills. Funny, but it’s strangely exciting and tingly doing something dead wrong and risky.

You’re an idiot, O’Shay. This is dangerous stuff.

Screw it! I’m doing it.

On a whim, Allie typed
recent advances in dream theory
into her browser, clicked on a selection that looked interesting, read it, reread it, read it again. Ho-ly shit! The doorbell rang. Damn!

Nancy stepped through the doorway. “Hi, Toots.”

Allie stood, looked at her watch, then gave her mother a quick hug. “Hi, Mom. You’re a little late.” Could have slept longer.

“Yeah, got tied up getting away. Damned horses got out overnight, and the guys needed them this morning. Took all of us to get them in. Guess they knew it was going to be a rough day. Oh, Dad says
hi
. . . says he’ll call you tomorrow or the next day. Misses his right-hand gal.” She smiled. “So, tonight’s the night, huh?”

Allie answered in a dull, subdued tone. “Guess so.”

“You don’t sound very excited. I mean, this is hopefully the first step in getting to the bottom of all this. Like, it’s real important.”

“I’m just worn out and depressed . . . Emily’s in deep shit again . . . and”—she wrapped her arms around her mother, pulled her close, laid her head on her shoulder, and sobbed—“and I feel so helpless, Mom, so guilty that I can’t do anything for her . . . so sad. I know they all die in the end, but I keep hoping . . . hoping that somehow it won’t happen to Emily. Help me, Mom.”

Nancy squeezed Allie against her chest, felt their hearts pounding together; she recollected the moment she’d first heard Allie’s heartbeat in her womb, the thrill of knowing she’d have a daughter. “Just hold me, Baby. Just hold on. We’ll get through it, Hon.”

When her tears and heaving subsided, Allie led her mother to the couch and sat beside her. “Mom, this is tearing me up. It’s so personal . . . like it’s happening to
me
. . . do you believe in reincarnation?”

“Hmm. I guess I can’t say I
believe
in it . . . but I definitely don’t
disbelieve
in it. So I guess my answer is, I really don’t know. Why? Are you thinking you’re Emily, reincarnated?”

“It’s crossed my mind. I mean, how else could I feel so close to her or be in her mind like I am?” Allie squeezed her lips together, frowned. “Just thought of something. Come over here; look at this.” She walked to the computer, sat down, wiggled the mouse. “Read that.”

It has long been known that dreams frequently include events and feelings the dreamer has experienced. But new theories hypothesize that it may be possible for experiences and feelings of one generation to be passed to subsequent generations of the same family through their genes and DNA, or perhaps through genetically guided access to selected information stored in what Jung described as a “collective unconscious”—a sort of window through which we’re able to access such information from the whole of mankind from its beginning to the present. It is thought that these experiences and feelings could manifest themselves in the form of dreams that portray the actual events and feelings experienced by those earlier generations
.

“Oh my God! Have you shown this to the doc?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure he knows about it. I’m going to mention it this afternoon, anyway. Just found it right before you got here. Pretty amazing, huh . . . even though it’s completely theoretical? Might explain a lot of what’s happening . . . though I don’t know how in the hell you’d prove it . . . guess that’s the doc’s job.”

Allie and her mother stared wordlessly at each other for a long moment before Nancy put her arm around Allie’s shoulders. “Hon, I’ve got something to tell you . . . something about Ian . . . the thing I didn’t want to discuss on the phone yesterday.”

Allie’s lips parted; her eyes instantly bloomed wide and cautious. “What is it, Mom?”

“Well, two things, actually. The first is that in addition to her telling me her dreams were true, she told me they were
always
about our family’s ancestors. Again, I don’t know
how
she knew, but she did . . . same for the dreams being true history. So maybe that’s why you feel so close to Emily . . . could also be tied into what we just read. You know, you and Ian are the only ones I’ve ever heard of who dreamed like this, and you’re the only ones with that butterfly birthmark. So I’m thinking that maybe your special ability may be something that
enables you to do
what that article says, while those of us without your gift can’t.”

Allie stared blankly at her mother; her mind spun like a top. “Mom, you just told me that Emily’s my Great-Great—Many-Great—Grandmother. Good Lord, I’ve got goose bumps all over.”

“I guess that’s what I’m saying, isn’t it?”

“Wow! Just wow! Did we know we had an ancestor at Roanoke?”

“Not as far as I know, but we really don’t know much about the family before Ian’s time. Obviously, if
she
knew, she didn’t share it . . . probably because she didn’t think anyone would believe her, which is a real shame.”

Allie reflected for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be something if she had the same dreams I’m having? Amazing. No wonder I feel so close to Emily.”

Nancy’s face saddened; she shook her head. “Allie, don’t forget what history says: the entire colony vanished. So even though you may now
understand the
why
of it, the outcome probably won’t change. I mean, that’s just the way it is. You can’t change history.”

Allie’s eyes suddenly glowed with excitement. “But, Mom, wait a minute. If Emily’s my Many-Great-Grandmother, she
can’t
die now. Because she hasn’t had any kids yet. And if she died before she had kids, we wouldn’t be here today, would we?”