Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (90 page)

Waters steadied her. “Here, let me help you.” He walked her slowly to the closest stump, sat her down, then scooped a cup of water from the bucket and handed it to her.

Emily sipped the water, took a deep breath, composed herself. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Please go on.”

He explained why they could not legally prosecute Tayler before the governor returned. He then took a deep breath, looked more embarrassed than before. “Mistress Colman, if I am wrong in what I am about to say, and you do not want me to continue, please say so.” He paused for a response; none came. “It seems plain to Governor Baylye and me that you are not the type of young woman who would marry Hugh Tayler unless you were compelled in some illicit manner to do so, if you understand me.”

A thin film of tears glossed Emily’s eyes. Dear Lord, I want so to tell him. They could arrest Tayler now for rape, but he’d deny it, and the entire colony would think me a slut. But they’ll know anyway when the baby shows. So why not accuse him now? Because there’s no jail to put him in, and he’d still be able to . . . to kill Virginia. Can’t take that chance. But what if . . .

Waters studied her with mindful eyes that couldn’t miss her tears and anguished expression, decipher the agony behind them. “Mistress, I do not ask you to tell me if you are under threat, if you fear doing so; but I do urge you to consider it, for Hugh Tayler has shown himself to be the sort that—please forgive me if I offend you—that would mistreat a lady. The governor and I want you to know that you do
not
have to do what he says and
should
most definitely not do so. I know not if he holds something over you; but if he does, please know that my men and I, and every decent man in
the colony, will help and protect you. And the sooner you inform us of any wrongs, the sooner we will be able to help.” He paused for a moment then smiled. “Mistress, I’ve admired your beauty of person and soul, also your enthusiasm and bravery, since we left England. You are indeed an angel among women, and I will die to protect you. Please know that.”

Emily sniffled, rubbed her eyes. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I doubt I look like an angel at the moment, but thank you.” I know not what to do. How could they protect Virginia? Without that, they can’t help me. No one can help me. Must bear this alone.

“You are wrong in your doubt, Mistress.” He held his eyes on hers, seemed unable to move them. “I apologize if I’ve upset you; I should leave now.”

She smiled faintly. “Lieutenant Waters, you have not upset me. My plight upsets me, and I know not what to do about it, for ’tis too late for anyone to help me.” She again rubbed her eyes. “But thank you. I shall consider what you’ve said. You’re a good, kind man for seeing my distress and trying to help. And if you’ve an intended one back home, she is a fortunate lady.”

He gave her a deep, questioning look, his eyes inviting an explanation of her plight; but when none came, he smiled. “Her name is Rebecca Roberts; I pray my eyes behold her again someday. And I pray the time soon comes when you’ll permit me to help you.” He bowed, took his leave.

Elyoner said, “Praise God and the saints, lass. You’re free of him, and—”

“Ellie, I’m
not
free of him. I—”

“What do you mean?” Elyoner slammed her hand on the table then shook her finger at Emily. “What does he demand? You must tell me. Enough of this mystery! I’m going to Baylye and Waters.”

Emily paled. “No, Ellie. Please.”

Elyoner threw her towel on the floor. “Why not, Em? Sit down; you look pale again. In the name of the saints, what does he hold over you? What can it matter if he’s already done what I suspect he’s done? And what can it matter if the worst that could result from
that
has already come to pass?
None of it matters in the end. All that matters is that you are the most wonderful, kind, and courageous of young ladies and that you will rise above the outrage that’s been done you. You
cannot
allow yourself to be menaced by him. So tell me now why we should
not
go to the governor.”

Emily stared at her, pleaded with her eyes and urgent tone. “ Pleeeease, Ellie, listen to me. Do not do this. I beg you, trust me. I cannot tell you why, but please say nothing. Please.”

Elyoner’s face was a sketch of frustration; she stared at Emily then shook her head, sighed. “As you wish, Em, but know that the time approaches when I shall no longer abide the pain of watching you suffer so.”

Emily stared at her, lowered her gaze to the floor, closed her eyes. “I understand.” And what will you and I do when that time comes?

Elyoner went to her, held her close for nearly a minute before Emily eased back, looked into her eyes. “Thank you, Ellie. I’d better go now.”

“Well, Em, prithee tell me your secret soon. ’Twill be the first step in the rebirth of Emily Colman, the beautiful young lass Isna and I adore.” She helped Emily don her cape. “Oh . . . Em . . . I nearly forgot.” She reached into her apron pocket, removed a kerchief. “Is this yours? I seem to remember you embroidering it back at Roanoke. It bears a very nice sentiment, indeed.”

Emily snatched the kerchief from Elyoner, looked at the words:
Savor Each Day the Lord Provides
. “Where did you find this?”

“ ’Twas in Virginia’s crib. I thought you might have dropped it there by accident.”

Chapter 20

“O
oooh . . . feel horrible . . . like I partied all night—no headache but wiped out, queasy stomach, groggy and sluggish. Whewwww.” Allie reached over, turned off the equipment, looked at the clock:
5:03
a.m. Like getting up for a cattle drive, but a little late. Her mind jumped back to May; the entire family had already been in the saddle gathering cattle for half an hour when the first timid glimmer of light appeared like a dim candle glowing just below the eastern horizon.

When the mother cows had seen the riders approaching, they’d frantically searched for their babies, some of whom had drifted away from them in the early morning darkness. Those old mamas knew the sight of riders meant a long, hard day, probably all uphill to summer range; they also knew the fresh, lush mountain grass was worth the trip. The older ones knew the route well enough to walk it on their own if the riders simply gave them a start. And all of them knew they’d better find their calves quickly before the shouting, whistling, and whoopla began. No question, the calves would all fall to the back of the herd once underway, so best to make sure now they weren’t left behind—still too young to go long without milk.

It had taken twelve hours to reach the summer range that day. It had started smoothly, gone well for the first hour and a half; but when they’d hit the big timber patch, instead of trailing quietly through it in a thin line, the herd had splintered and split into the thick forest of fir and pine, laced with piles of fallen trees that looked like stacks of pick-up sticks. Such behavior was expected—even nervously anticipated—on a hot day with hordes of flies in the air, but not on a cool, pleasant day like that one. When they’d finally collected the herd and gotten it back on track, the temperature had
abruptly dropped twenty-five degrees; and a wave of thick, black clouds had rolled in, parked over them, and dumped a persistent flood of heavy raindrops slightly smaller than peas. Then after two hours of chilly, inescapable soaking, a heavy, wet snow accompanied by a brisk breeze had begun to fall, continued the rest of the day. Yes, it
had
been miserable—no way to stay dry or warm, no relief for numb toes and fingers—a hypothermia day, all the way. But through it all, Allie and her dad had kept up a lively exchange of humorous, sarcastic quips that had laughed off their unpleasant circumstances and worsening misery. Somehow, making light of a painful situation seemed to lessen the agony of it, helped you keep your sanity and grit long enough to make it through. She wished she could somehow do the same with her depressing, addictive dreams but knew it could not be.

She took a deep breath, sat up, kicked her legs over the side of the bed. Definitely woozy. Wonder if it’s the sleeping pills or the Mestinon. Also wonder how many REMs I had and how long. Don’t want to be doing the drug if it doesn’t buy more dream time. Whoops, forgot. The data are on a CD with this portable equipment. Won’t see it until the lab prints it out. Hmm. Suppose Steve will ask me why and how I slept seventeen hours . . . and why I maybe have so many long REMs. Oh well, guess I’ll just tell him I was really tired. She began popping electrode cups off her head and body.

After a shower and a quick breakfast, Allie recorded her dream logs. A wave of nausea hit her as she spoke of James Lassie’s mutilated body, then disgust when she thought of Tayler’s pernicious character. That rotten bastard! Gonna force her to be his mistress, probably use her then toss her. She sniffled, stared at the floor for a moment, felt a pair of warm tears roll down her cheeks; she felt Emily’s guilt, stress, and frustration, her hopeless despair. She rubbed her eyes. At least she’s got Elyoner . . . what a friend. Think she’s got it figured out, which is good because she’s going to be the one who gets her through it . . . somehow. Jeez. Tayler, the Panther, and Isna—all in love or lust with her. And the kerchief in Virginia’s crib. How would I react to
that
and Tayler’s extortion of sex? Guess I’d take it for real, like Emily’s doing; he’s definitely a credible creep, but I’d probably drill the asshole before he could hurt Virginia. She shook her head. But Emily’s not like me in that way—different times, different world for women. Feel her
despair and guilt as if it all happened to me, and I’d feel exactly the same about facing the man I loved if
I’d
been raped. Hmm. Wonder how she had an orgasm? Need to look that up. She walked to the computer, typed in:
Can a woman have an orgasm while being raped
. She clicked on a random listing.

Women may indeed feel pleasure, to the point of orgasm, while being raped—not because they enjoy being raped, but rather because feeling pleasure during sexual intercourse is an automatic response of their bodies. Sadly, this involuntary pleasure can sometimes lead rape victims to the mistaken conclusion that they actually enjoyed the rape, which, of course, can foster deep feelings of guilt and self-doubt within them
.

Wow. Didn’t know that. So she has no reason whatsoever to feel guilty, totally not her fault—the rape or the orgasm. Damn it, wish I could tell her. She saved the piece to her desktop then opened her chart on Ian. Gotta get to the bottom of this with Mom, find out what she’s hiding—could be germane to the analysis. She glanced at the picture of her family on the night stand, felt the now-familiar gust of guilt blow into her mind. Spent my whole life being a mostly good, honest, straightforward person, built a relationship of instinctive trust with Mom and Dad; and I’ve now betrayed it by being a fraud, thief, and drug addict. Nice job, Allie. True, she’d bent the truth a few times and withheld certain things from her parents, but she’d never had the touch for real lying; it had always upset her stomach and overwhelmed her with guilt. She simply couldn’t live with it and had never wondered why. She shook her head, remembered one of the few times she’d really lied to her parents. When she was eight years old, she’d told her mother a fib about something, thought she’d gotten away with it. Though she hadn’t said anything, her mother’s doubting look had hung in her mind like a movie scene on pause until, after three days, she’d gone to her, head humbly bowed, burst into tears, wrapped her arms around her waist, and told her the truth. Her mother had then told her how happy she was that Allie felt better telling the truth than lying and that she was unspeakably proud of her for doing so. The experience had stayed with Allie as permanently as her butterfly birthmark. She shook her head. I hate it, but I have
to dream, can’t resist it, worse than hooked. The dreams are part of my life now, and Emily’s life’s becoming
my
life. Oh well. She looked at the Ian list, focused on the
Don’t Know
section. Okay, I’m going to pin her down on this stuff, and—

The phone rang. “Hi, Mom.”