Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (103 page)

“The warm-weather moons approach; Isna must lead his men back to the Lakota.”

Emily turned away; tears filled her eyes. “Emily understands. Isna said it would be so.” She rubbed her eyes. “But Emily was foolish. She hoped . . . and prayed . . . that Isna would . . .”

“Isna’s heart is
also
troubled by this. His vision, Emily’s dream—the bear and the little white fawn, the great bear’s instruction to protect the little white fawn forever, the many brown and white fawns, and the old woman with the two black stones around her neck—how can the vision and the dream be fulfilled if Isna and Emily are apart?” He shook his head. “It is something Isna and Emily must think about, try to understand.”

She looked at him with desperate eyes.

“And even if these white men find Isna before he leaves, he will kill many before dying a great warrior’s death.”

She shook her head rapidly. “No, Isna. Please. Isna does not understand these men.”

“Isna understands, yet he wonders why these men befriend one such as Tayler . . . a coward whose heart burns with hate for himself . . . an evil man. Surely, they are like the people Ptesanwin spoke of when she told the grandfathers that as long as they kept and honored the pipe, they would live; but if they forgot it, they would be without a center and perish. Have these white men not lost their center? Do they not follow a path
away
from the one you call God?”

“Yes, Isna. They do, but—” She clutched her abdomen, bent over, took several deep breaths, smiled. “ ’Tis my time.” Would that it were so. She looked away for a moment then back at him. “There is something else Emily must tell Isna.”

He looked perceptively at her, canted his head, eased her into his arms. “Be silent; find comfort in Isna’s arms, the arms that will forever protect the little white fawn from all evil . . . as the great bear commanded.”

They held each other in silence until Isna said, “Isna has learned that Emily’s father has gone to the spirit world . . . he remembers when his own father and mother went there . . . he knows Emily’s pain, and his heart aches for her.”

She looked tearfully into his eyes. “Did Isna cry for his father and mother?”

“Lakota women wail and slash their arms and hair . . . Lakota warriors mourn in their hearts.”

Emily nodded. “Nor does Emily slash her arms, but she misses her father and mourns him every day . . . and every day she regrets words she spoke to him in disrespect when his words angered her, though they intended no harm.”

“It is proper to each day think of our fathers and grandfathers . . . our mothers and grandmothers . . . bring their wisdom into our souls as we do with the wisdom we acquire from our own mistakes. And Emily must also know that regret is part of grief. As Isna once told her,
all
people sometimes
grieve . . . as they are also sometimes afraid . . . and it is these things—fear and grief—that make us whole.”

She smiled. “And help us live the four virtues of Lakota men and women . . . the greatest of which is bravery.”

“Emily remembers well . . . and she will also remember that fear and grief teach us bravery and inner strength, and that we must therefore experience them and then place them in their proper places in our minds.” He smiled. “The little white fawn understands this because she has the gifts of the north and east.”

Emily tilted her head. “What are
gifts of the north and east
?”

“Isna will tell Emily, but first he must explain the order of the world and how it determines these gifts.” He crossed his legs, sat erect, assumed a scholarly pose, then brushed a two-foot-wide clearing in the leaves, scraped the yellow grass away so only bare earth remained. “All things in the world are in
rounds
, except the rock. Animal bodies and legs, plant stems, trees and their branches—all are round . . . as are the sun, moon, earth, and sky. Day, night, the moon, and the year all circle the earth, as do the four winds. But the world is
also
in fours. Four things sit above the earth: stars and sky, sun and moon; there are four parts of time: night, day, the moon cycles, and the year it takes them before they repeat the cycle; there are four pieces of each plant: flower, leaves, stem, and the roots that provide the water of life; four seasons: summer, fall, winter, and spring; four animal types: those who crawl, those who fly, the two-leggeds, and the four-leggeds; four virtues of men and women; the four seasons of life: that of the baby, the child, the mature adult, and the aged; and last, the four directions: north, south, east, and west.”

Emily smiled. “Emily has never thought of the world in this way, but . . . but it is true.”

He picked up a small stick, drew a circle in the damp dirt, scratched marks at its top, bottom, right, and left, then pointed with the stick as he spoke. “Just as the world is in rounds and fours, so is this circle, the circle of life, which represents the universe and everything within it—all animal families, human beings, the seasons, the earth, and all things upon it. The four marks are the four directions: north, south, east, and west. And each
direction holds a certain gift. The north holds the gift of wisdom; the east, the gift of enlightenment; the south, the gift of innocence; and the west, the looks-within place, holds the gift of introspection.”

Emily nodded as her eyes alternated between Isna and the picture in the dirt.

“Every human being is born somewhere on this circle or within it, and their position determines which of the four gifts they receive at birth.” He pointed at the mark on his right. “So a person born here is a person of the east, with the gift of enlightenment.” He then pointed at the bottom mark. “And one born here is a person of the south, with the gift of innocence; and here, a person of the north, with the gift of wisdom; and here, a person of the west, with the gift of introspection.”

“But Isna said Emily is a person of the north
and
east. How can she have two gifts?”

“Because some people are born with two or three gifts, and Emily is one of these . . . she was born
here
.” He touched his stick to the circle, halfway between the north and east marks. “But the strength of the gifts depends on where on the circle, or inside it, one is born, and the gift that one is closest to will be stronger than another.” He pointed the stick closer to the north mark then closer to the east mark. “To be whole and balanced and more like Wakan Tanka, we must seek
more
than one or two gifts, and these additional gifts must be acquired as we walk through life. Emily will understand this; for she knows that if a person is only a wise person of the north, they will be wise but will lack the illumination that brings understanding. They will also lack both the introspection that lets them see within themselves and the innocence that allows the understanding and trust of other beings. So they will be a wise but cold person—one without feeling.”

Emily nodded. “Emily understands. She has met people like this.”

Isna then drew a line between the north and south marks, and another, between the east and west. “If a person is on one of these lines, they are on a pathway from their birth gift to the other three gifts, and their position on the line determines the strength of the other gifts in relation to their birth gift. So a person here”—he pointed at the middle of the line segment between the center of the circle and the west mark—“ would be
introspective
but
would also have lesser gifts of wisdom, innocence, and enlightenment. And one here”—he pointed halfway between the center and the north mark— “would be
wise
but would also have lesser gifts of innocence, enlightenment, and introspection; while one in the center of the circle, where the two lines cross, would share all four gifts equally and, like Wakan Tanka, be in perfect harmony with himself and all things in the universe. No human being can achieve this position, for it represents the spirit, Wakan Tanka himself, who is everywhere and in all things yet above all things. This center is the place of the pure heart and truthfulness, from which love and goodness radiate like the warmth of the sun—a secure, guarded place that is the center of goodness for all the universe. And even though no human being can
enter
the center,
every
human being should strive throughout life to touch and understand each of the other gifts, thereby becoming closer to the center, closer to being whole, and closer to Wakan Tanka.”

Emily looked away, mused for a moment, then looked back at Isna. “Emily likes this, for it explains God’s gifts better than she has ever heard. And . . . and Isna is right: no human being can enter the center of the circle; but . . . but most of my people believe that God, Wakan Tanka, long ago, sent his son to the world as a human being, to save us from ourselves; and since he was the son of Wakan Tanka, he too was at the center of the circle.”

He looked at her with a pensive look, a soft smile. “The Lakota do not know of this man, but Isna would like to learn more of him.”

She smiled impishly, nodded. “Emily will someday tell Isna about Him; but now, she wants Isna to show her where
Isna
is on the circle.”

He looked embarrassed, slightly annoyed, pointed quickly to the top left of the circle, between the west and north marks. “ Isna was born here; but like Emily, he is no longer on the edge of the circle.” He made a new mark inside the circle, between the north and west lines but more to the east than the south, then looked back at Emily. “ Isna’s travels
started
him on the pathway to enlightenment, but knowing and loving Emily has taught him far more and also allowed him to learn from her the gift of innocence.” He quickly made another mark inside the circle, this time between the north and east lines but closer to the center than his own. “But Emily has grown far closer to the center than Isna; for she has a strong gift of innocence,

They held hands, stared silently into each other’s eyes. Tears tumbled down Emily’s cheeks; she smiled, leaned slowly forward, placed her hands behind his head, then pulled his lips to hers. He embraced her, eased her gently to the ground, where they held their lips and bodies together while their love-fueled passions rose toward the threshold of flames.

A pang of sadness gnawed at Emily’s heart as, hand in hand, she and Isna approached the edge of the forest by the Chesapeake village. She glanced
silently at Isna several times, and he at her. They’d stepped but two feet into the clearing when Emily stopped, pulled him back into the forest, threw her arms around him in a frantic embrace. They stared longingly at one another, kissed, smiled. “Emily’s heart will cry until Isna is again near her.”

“As will Isna’s.” He nodded once, turned, walked away toward the Chesapeake village. Emily watched him for a moment then started toward the colony. She was halfway there when a thought bludgeoned her mind like a blow to the head: Tayler . . . surely furious with me. A chill raced down her back. My God, what if . . . what if he’s made good on his promise, hurt Virginia. Good Lord, please don’t let it be. She lifted her skirt above her ankles, ran as fast she could. Virginia, Virginia, must find you. Lord, let her be safe. She gasped for breath; her heart pounded. “Oh!” She tripped over a root, sprawled front first onto the ground, gasped for air, found none. More gasps, then finally breath. She struggled to her feet, sprinted for the palisades as new images flashed through her mind with each gulp of air. Virginia . . . please . . . be there . . . please . . . please. She envisioned her lying in her crib, face blue from strangulation, eyes bulged wide, unmoving, sightless, her body still. Oh, God! She raced through the palisades gate, saw no one on the green; her throat burned for air. Keep going . . . Em . . . hurry . . . Virginia . . . be there. She reached the Dares’, burst through the doorway. No one here. She dashed to the crib. Gone! Dear God! Where can she be? She turned, ran to the door, imagined Virginia lying dead, bloodied in the forest. She stepped outside, looked for people, saw none but the sentries. Ellie, Ananias, where are you, must find you. My God, save her! My fault . . . all my fault! Dear Lord, where is she?