Dream Weaver (35 page)

Fear and horror engulfed every cell of her body. Tears filled her eyes. She covered her ears, hoping to block out the sound of gunfire, the screams! Fear paralyzed her. How could she endanger herself? Trembling uncontrollably, she knew she had no choice. She repeated those words again and again. No choice. She had to save Christian's life and her own. Her mind made up, she started across the field, then stopped as an arrow zipped close by her.

"No!" She pressed her hands to her head. She couldn't do it...could not go out to the open field. You must, her conscience reminded her. You must go.

Countless minutes later, she dashed for the open field. Her heart thudded every step of the way.

Captain Ecuyer grimaced on the ground, an arrow piercing his left leg. His squire--tall, husky Salathiel Albine--knelt beside him, easing him to his feet. An arm braced around

Ecuyer's waist, Albine led the limping captain away.

Several yards from her, a young soldier writhed on the ground, moaning with pain, an arrow gouged in his stomach. Blood pulsed from his wound and soaked the earth. Gwen stopped and pressed her hand to her mouth. Faint and dizzy, she bent over double and took deep breaths.

"Gwen, come help me!" Christian rushed to kneel beside the soldier, setting his medicine chest on the ground. "Where are the orderlies?" he shouted. "This man should be taken to the hospital!" As Gwen neared him, he spoke in quiet tones. "I'll have to cut the arrow out and stop the bleeding. An abdominal wound..."

In her haste to join Christian, Gwen tripped on the soldier's leg. She stumbled against her husband as an arrow whizzed their way.

"Ahh!" Christian fell to the ground, the missile stabbing his shoulder.

"Christian!"

Another shaft zinged into the dirt beside him. In her nightmares, she'd always seen Christian with an arrow through his heart. Now, he'd suffered only a puncture wound, the arrow lodged above the collarbone.

She sank to the ground, taking deep breaths. Christian was saved--either by luck or divine salvation. No matter what, her stumble had saved his life! If their luck held, they'd both survive this Godawful day.

Silently thanking God, Gwen turned to say something to her husband. She saw his unmoving form, his eyes closed, as if...as if..

"No!" Gwen knelt beside him to examine the injury--only a flesh wound with soft tissue damage. The arrowhead had torn all the way through his shoulder and gone partway out the other side, surely no mortal injury. Then what was the matter with Christian?

"Christian, say something!"

Silence.

"Oh, God, please!" Nausea roiled in her stomach. She swallowed convulsively. Her hands shaking, she reached into his medicine chest to retrieve the clippers, then cut the arrow as close to the back of his shoulder as possible. After tugging the arrow out from the front, she tore off a piece of her petticoat to staunch the bleeding. One quick breath followed another. She wadded the dressing into a bandage and pressed it against his wound. Then she tore off more material and wrapped it around his shoulder to hold the dressing in place. A simple wound and an easy remedy. Then why did Christian lie so still, his face chalk white? Why, why?

"Christian!" Gwen bent over to listen to his heart...and found no heartbeat. She grabbed his wrist and felt...panic. No pulse! He'd suffered only a flesh wound. Why wasn't he up and moving about by now?

Memories from her twenty-first century life flashed through her mind. She remembered a seemingly healthy basketball player, dead of a heart attack. She recalled soldiers who'd died from physical stress during basic training. And don't forget the Russian ice skater, dead of a heart attack during practice, she reminded herself.

"No! Please, no!" Dear God, she had failed! Gwen rocked back and forth, tears streaming down her face. Never again would Christian hold her close and whisper love words in her ear. Never again would she hear his dear voice, see that wonderful smile that made her so happy to be alive, to know he loved only her.

Christian was dead.

Chapter Twenty-four

Free of earthly limitations, Christian rose above the ground, higher, higher, higher. He looked down and saw Gwen kneeling over his body, mourning his death! Even from a distance, he heard her anguished cries, saw tears streaming down her face. Unspeakable sorrow clutched at his heart, the realization that he must leave her, never to see her again. Gwen, my dearest darling, my only love.

Whisking through a long tunnel, he traveled faster than he'd ever imagined possible, a journey outside normal dimensions of time or space. At the end of the tunnel, a brilliant light bathed him. Its ethereal quality imbued the radiance with a soothing effect, as if to say, Your worries are over.

His heavenly journey ended, and he found himself in a vast meadow blanketed with flowers of unbelievably beautiful colors, where a celestial chorus welcomed him. The exquisite music surrounded him, enclosing him in a cocoon of loving warmth.

A man in a white robe greeted him, linking his arm with Christian's. Gleaming light emanated from this person, as if he were drenched in sunlight. "I'm your Spirit Guide, Matthew," the blonde man said with an engaging smile. "Let me show you around."

Christian looked in all directions. "But wh--where am I?"

Another warm smile. "You'll see."

Arm-in-arm, they walked a short distance through the meadow, until a shining white building appeared. Countless marble steps, grandiose statuary, and fountains graced the magnificent building's entrance. Majestically imposing, the structure reminded him of drawings he'd seen of Greek and Roman temples, but this building overshadowed any other structure, real or imagined.

Sweet-smelling flowers in a myriad of colors embellished the meadow, a rich medley of color and scent, an experience far beyond anything he'd ever known.

It will take forever to climb these steps, Christian thought, but soon they arrived at the entrance. A gleaming white door swung open at their approach. He and his guide stepped inside the building, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor. As they approached a room--one of many--another door silently opened, and Christian looked around in surprise. Doors that open by themselves?

"The Hall of Wisdom," the guide explained.

The spacious room appeared empty, every wall a luminous white, and surrounded by pillars, with marble benches lining each wall.

"Come with me." Matthew led him to a far wall, a brilliant gold curtain stretching from the ceiling to the floor. The guide pulled a cord, and the curtain opened with a soft swishing sound. Beyond the curtain, Christian saw...nothing.

The guide tapped Christian's shoulder. "Look down. What do you see?"

He looked down--and gasped. There below him revolved a large sphere in a clear blue sky. Some portions of the sphere appeared green, but most of it was a bright blue.

He turned a bewildered gaze to Matthew. "Wh--what is it?"

"Don't you recognize it? That's your planet, Earth."

He remained motionless, unable to remove his gaze from the planet. "I had no idea it looked like that," he said, swinging back to Matthew.

"A heavenly learning experience." Matthew grinned, taking him by the arm. "Come, I have other things to show you." Within a heartbeat, he found himself in another room, this one filled with a row of large paintings on a far wall, one painting after another, scarcely leaving a bare space on the wall. The guide led him closer, moving along until they reached the first picture. Matthew spoke. "Look well," he said. "What do you see?"

"I can't believe it!" Not a painting, but what was it? His gaze covering every inch of the picture, Christian considered it finer than any rendering he'd ever seen, as real as the room where he stood. The picture showed a weak, emaciated man who lay in bed, blood running from his mouth. Beyond him stretched a row of similar beds, each one occupied by a fellow sufferer.

He turned to his guide. "I've heard of this malady, although I've never encountered any sufferers in my practice." And why are you showing me these images? he wanted to ask.

"Tuberculosis," Matthew said. "A lung disease."

He nodded. "Ah, yes, I understand, but I've never heard that term before." A world of emotions clashed inside him, joy and sorrow, hope and fear. If there were some way he could help these people, ease their suffering...But no, that wasn't possible when he was destined to remain here for eternity, away from all the people he'd known and loved.

The guide showed him several more pictures, each one revealing a multitude of people who suffered from various diseases. Two words dominated the collection: cancer and AIDS.

"I never realized so many people suffered from these sundry illnesses," Christian said, overwhelmed by all he'd seen so far, and not only the pictures. His earthly existence paled in comparison to all he'd experienced these past moments, to everything that had happened to him from the time of his entrance into this strange but miraculous place. Too fascinated to speak, he turned back to study the last picture. This one revealed a teenage girl in a wheelchair who suffered from muscular dystrophy, or so Matthew informed him.

Christian's gaze returned to his Spirit Guide. "Difficult to believe so many maladies exist, and we can't alleviate the patient's distress."

"It's true," the guide responded. "And there's a greater need than ever for doctors to heal the suffering. But come," he said before Christian could reply. "Let me show you other scenes."

After walking across the marble floor, he discovered an abundance of images adorning another wall. These more nearly resembled paintings but were of such beauty and clarity they left him staring in silence, searching for words.

The guide gestured toward the first picture. "Look at these images. I believe they will have a special meaning for you."

"Ah!" Christian jerked, his breath catching in his throat. He saw himself clad in a primitive fur robe, wearing an expression of grim forbearance. He stood outside a cave, a woman holding his hand.

"Gwen!" he whispered. "My wife!" Despite the difference in their looks, he could tell Gwen anywhere. Mayhap it was her eyes, but it was the same woman, the only one he could ever love. Reluctant to turn from the picture, he stared at each line of her face, his gaze absorbing every feature.

The guide placed a gentle hand under his elbow and drew him away. "Now look here." Peering at the second image, Christian saw himself in a plain brown tunic, a rope tied around his waist. Cross-legged on a earthen floor, he shifted a lump of wet clay in his hands, fashioning it into a vase. A woman sat beside him, her face set in concentration while she sifted through another glob of clay and plucked the stones out.

"My dear one!" He reached out to touch the painting, tracing every line of Gwen's lovely face. A rush of love welled up inside him and tears filled his eyes.

Matthew gave him a kind smile. "Yes--Gwen, with a hundred, a thousand lifetimes between the lifetime in this picture and the first one you saw."

Fresh despair erupted inside him, tears trickling down his cheeks. "Gwen," he whispered. "I miss her very much."

Matthew placed his hand on Christian's shoulder. "Your soulmate, from one lifetime to the next."

"But now...now, I'll never see her again," Christian said in a trembling voice, "not in this lifetime. Gwen...I love her so much. You don't know how I want to be with her again." Uncontrollable sobs shook his body, prompting him to turn away, ashamed of his weakness.

The guide embraced him, and Christian felt the warmth of his touch, the strength of his arms. A weight lifted from him, all his cares and worries melting away. "You will see her again, Christian, very soon. You still have so much to accomplish, either in your time or in Gwen's twenty-first century." He smiled. "'To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven'. It is not your time to die...."

In a flash, the guide, the room, everything disappeared. And then...nothing.

* * *

"Oh, God, no!" Only seconds had elapsed since Christian had fallen, yet it seemed like hours. Frantic thoughts raced through Gwen's head as she strained to recall every step of the CPR training in First Aid. Christian couldn't be dead. She would not let him die.

Tilting Christian's head back, she blew into his mouth several times, each time a little stronger than the last. She waited a few seconds. Still no breathing. She bit her lower lip, trying to restrain the tears. With renewed purpose, she gave him a precordial thump--a hard hit to the center of his chest. Still nothing happened, but she couldn't stop now. Even while the resolution formed in her mind, her eyes filled with tears, hindering her vision.

Moving astride him, she pressed both hands on his sternum. Pressed and released. Pressed and released. Again and again, she applied the pressure, then released.