SelfSame (8 page)

“Who’s that?” She pointed him out to Ben.

“My Uncle Harry.”

“The homeless one?” Paula asked.

“Yep, that’s Harry the Hobo. He’s not a bad guy, just a little mental. There’s one in every family.” Ben looked over at John. “Or two.”

As soon as everyone was seated, Skip stood. “Welcome. As you may have heard, we found our Enid.”

Several people clapped and shouted their appreciation.

Skip continued. “We’re also pretty sure who our Ben is,” he gestured towards Sorcha and Ben, “but if any of the rest of you want a shot at it, she’s easy on the eye.”

There was laughter from the circle. Sorcha had absolutely no idea what he meant.

“Janet, if you would.” Ben’s mother stood up and began distributing a single sheet of paper to each person present. When she got to Harry the Hobo, he shook his head and she moved on.

“This is the protection detail schedule,” Skip said. “Ben and John will shadow her at school to the best of their ability. Those of you assigned to the house must take precautions not to alert the family to your presence. We’ve trained for this, people, so stick to the program.”

Sorcha had had enough. Her hand shot in the air.

Skip raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I know, Sorcha. You’ve got questions. I promise I’ll answer as many as I can, but first I’ve got one for you. Do you know what a paradox is?”

Sorcha nodded. “Something that contradicts itself, but is still true.”

“Have you heard of the Grandfather Paradox? Where you can’t travel back in time to kill your own grandfather because if you did you’d never be born to travel back in time in the first place?”

“Um…sure.”

“All of this,” he gestured around the circle, “has to happen, because we know it already happened.”

“And it’s a paradox because it happens because Enid said it did,” Sorcha said.

“Exactly.”

“And you know more, but you can’t tell me, because Enid didn’t know about it, or at least she didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“You,” Skip said, pointing at her, “are smart. That’s good.”

He spun around, clapped his hands and said loudly, “Alright! Luanne, our very own history expert, was able to positively identify Sorcha’s house. We are one-hundred percent certain this is the real thing, people! I feel like I should say something profound about how belief can sustain us. If Sarge were here, he’d have us all crying like babies, but as most of you know, he ran afoul of the law again this week.”

There were chuckles, affectionate head-shakes and nods all around. Sorcha noticed the only one who didn’t respond was John. He was too busy glowering at Ben.

“Sarge may be out of action, but he’ll be a part of our salvation in spirit,” Janet chimed in.

“That’s right!” Luanne reached out and took her mother’s hand.

Sorcha wondered what the heck she’d gotten herself into. Salvation? Were these people nuts? She looked at Ben, who kind of rolled his eyes and said quietly, “This day has been a long time coming. Some of my family members are a bit fanatical about it.”

“Ya think?”

He leaned closer, his face serious. “No one asked you to prove yourself, did they? We believe that you have two souls and live two lives.”

“Should I be grateful? Is that what you’re saying? Because I gotta tell you, I can’t fight the feeling that you all have some purpose for me that you plan to keep me ignorant of.”

His eyes dropped, and she knew it was true.

The men and women stood and walked off or milled about in little groups; she’d missed Skip’s last words dismissing everyone. He came over and squatted down in front of her chair. Like most the others, he had dark hair and bronzed skin, but his eyes were a striking blue.

Before he could say anything, she asked, “There’s something Enid needs to do, isn’t there? She obviously already did it, though, so I don’t see how anything we do now can make any difference.”

“Or…” Skip said with a raise of his eyebrows, “what we do now makes all the difference.”

Sorcha sighed. “Paradoxes are a pain in the ass, aren’t they?”

He smiled. “You said you had questions.”

She shook her head. “Never mind. I highly doubt you’ll answer any of them.”

“You’re probably right, and I’m sorry about that, but it can’t be helped.” He stood up and nodded to Ben. “Take care of her.”

“I will.”

Paula didn’t have much to say on the way home. She seemed as stunned as Sorcha. She did point out that a car seemed to be following them, and before they turned onto the private lane to Sorcha’s house, the driver pulled over and parked. The owner of the land across the main road had built and rented out several duplexes. Cars parked along that road all the time, so as long as her ‘protection detail’ kept a low profile, they wouldn’t be conspicuous there.

Sorcha put her hand on the door handle. “I feel like my life is one unending episode of the Twilight Zone.”

Paula gave her an encouraging smile. “And I’m over here just privileged to be your side-kick.”

Sorcha laughed and took a swipe at her, but sobered quickly. “After everything that’s happened, I’m afraid to go to sleep tonight.”

Paula nodded in the direction of the parked car. “They’re here to keep you safe, remember?”

Sorcha pressed her lips together.

“Are they?”

Enid

She woke up face down on the horse again. This time the band of Mohawk were travelling at a good clip, cantering across an open field. She lifted her violently bobbing head to let her captor know she was awake and he responded by shoving her back down and shouting something angrily. His tone told her she’d better not struggle, so she didn’t, even though every hoof striking the ground sent painful shockwaves through her body.

She consoled herself with the knowledge that even a fit horse couldn’t maintain a canter forever. Sure enough, after what seemed like an eternity but was probably only half an hour, they slowed to a walk.

The group of men chatted good-naturedly among themselves in their language, which suggested to her they were near the end of their journey even though New York, where Joseph said they were headed, would by her calculations still be several days’ ride south. Another hour or so passed before the sound of children’s laughter and barking dogs reached her. From her upside-down position, she caught glimpses of dark-haired, dark-eyed boys and girls who’d come out to greet the men and were curiously scrutinizing her.

Joseph had told her they were Mohawk, but the Mohawk homeland was northwest of her village, not south. She wondered who these people really were, and assumed she was about to find out.

She heard a woman’s voice then, “What is this? Is she to be allowed no dignity among us?”

The Mohawk brave Enid had ridden with dismounted, and just like the day before, pulled her roughly from his horse. Also like the day before, Enid’s vision faded to black around the edges and she collapsed. She was immediately surrounded by curious dogs, sniffing her warily, some growling a warning. Through the dizzy buzzing in her ears, she heard the woman gasp dramatically and then begin blasting the brave with irate words in another language.

“Enough!” It was the older man who’d translated the day before. “She is unharmed, and that was the agreement.”

Enid’s vision slowly returned. She licked her dry lips and looked up, squinting into the sun. The woman shouted at the dogs, and they scattered. Standing before Enid was a slim squaw with white-streaked black braids hanging forward on each side. Beside her worried eyes were deep laugh-lines that spoke of happier times. Enid hadn’t seen her since before her brain was capable of forming permanent memories, but she knew her nonetheless.

“Mother,” she said. The word was uttered without joy or surprise; Enid was too exhausted for emotion.

Bluebird fell down onto her knees and threw her arms around her. “E-ee,” she murmured. “My baby.”

Her mother pulled away just in time: Enid’s back hunched as her mid-section contracted into a tight ball and she vomited the meager contents of her stomach into the dust.

“This is ‘unharmed’?” Bluebird practically screeched. Enid didn’t know what her mother did next because she was too busy dry-heaving, but a canteen soon appeared in front of her face. She took it, but was too weak and shaky to tilt her head back properly to drink. Bluebird’s gentle hands helped her, her voice soothing. “Take small sips, E-ee.”

Someone carried her into a dark place and laid her on a soft surface near the ground. The air smelled of spice, a strangely familiar scent. Enid’s mother stuffed furs under her upper body to prop her up and then she spoon fed her a thin broth that tasted wonderful.

“I am sorry you were treated so,” she said.

“Where am I?” Her eyes had adjusted enough to the gloom to see that she was in a vast-seeming space: the interior of a longhouse. 

“Among the Haudenosaunee people.”

Enid knew from Sorcha’s studies that the Haudenosaunee were the Iroquois Confederacy, six Native American nations joined together: the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca and Tuscarora.

“Who were those men who captured me?”

Bluebird frowned. “Black Wolf was sent from New York to fetch warriors from his chief’s village. He came through here on the way and I convinced my husband to trade with him. He should not have treated you so badly.”

Enid didn’t comment on the ‘my husband’ part. It made sense that her mother would remarry.

“You paid him to kidnap me?”

“Not kidnap! Rescue. If I could have, I would have taken you with me all those years ago, but your father would have hunted me down and killed me. Now I have protection.”

Enid sat up, glad to find the dizziness gone. “So you sent Black Wolf to the medicine man to find out where our house was.”

Bluebird smiled and nodded. She looked very pleased with herself.

Enid didn’t know for sure what had happened, but she suspected Bear Talker had refused to tell the Mohawk where she lived and they’d attacked, motivated by whatever her mother’s husband had promised them in trade. She didn’t mention any of this to Bluebird, not because she was trying to protect her, but because it was speculation.

“You have not asked about Elizabeth,” Enid said.

“Shall I ask about her? Just to show you I care? Because I do not.” Bluebird’s tone was full of bitterness.

Enid bit her bottom lip and found it to be severely chapped. She was torn between loyalty to Elizabeth and the need to please her mother. She became aware of other people moving about in the longhouse. One thin girl seemed to be hovering just beyond her mother’s sectioned-off living area.

From her kneeling position by the bedding, Bluebird looked around, held her arm out and said something in her language. The girl moved nearer and took Bluebird’s hand. As soon as the girl came close enough for Enid to see her clearly, she knew who she was.

“This is your sister,” Bluebird said, and Enid wasn’t sure to whom she was speaking.

The girl appeared to be ten or eleven years old and was a miniature version of Bluebird, from the clothes to the braids to the shape of her face. The girl said, “How do you?” and Enid got the distinct impression the English words were the first she’d uttered except in practice.

Enid subsided back onto the furs, not because her dizziness had returned, but because she was overwhelmed with uncertainty. How had her mother expected her to react to this bombardment? She’d had her torn violently from her home and brought to live among a strange people with strange customs. Did she think presenting her with a sister would make it all better? Enid saw the closeness between the two; their hands were still linked and the girl leaned against her mother’s shoulder. Something like jealousy flared in her heart, but she squelched it quickly. The girl had an open, friendly look on her face. If she could welcome Enid, essentially sharing the mother she’d had to herself her whole life, then Enid could find the strength to accept it gracefully.

“What is your name?” Enid asked.

The girl looked down at Bluebird, who enunciated, “Spotted Fawn.”

Spotted Fawn repeated the English version of her name and smiled proudly at Enid, who couldn’t help but respond in kind. Enid put her hand on her chest and said, “Enid.”

“Ee-nid,” Spotted Fawn said.

The next hour or so passed getting to know Bluebird and Spotted Fawn. Enid was acutely conscious of her state of dishevelment after the rough journey and finally asked her mother if there was somewhere she could go to freshen up.

“Are you able to walk?” Bluebird asked.

“Yes. I am well now,” Enid replied, hoping it was true.

Bluebird grabbed up some items and held Enid’s arm as she guided her out of the longhouse, trailed by Spotted Fawn. Outside, there were several more longhouses spaced some distance apart, and smaller domed wigwams here and there. Beyond the structures and the wooden palisade surrounding them, a wide field stretched into the distance, dotted everywhere with flat-topped mounds of earth covered with the remains of the corn crop. Elizabeth had told Enid the story of The Three Sisters, which gave spiritual meaning to the indigenous agricultural system combining corn, beans and squash. At least a dozen women and even more children were out in the fields picking over what was left of the harvest.

The day was crisp and windy, with dark grey clouds that blocked the sun periodically. The inhabitants of the village went about their business, but Enid felt their eyes follow her. A few women paused to call out pleasant greetings to Bluebird. Men were scarce; probably they were out hunting and fishing – or perhaps, like the men of Enid’s own village, they’d gone to war.

“You may be my daughter, but to the people here, you are a stranger,” Bluebird told her. “You must prove your worth before they will accept you. You must learn to speak the Haudenosaunee languages.”

Enid nodded.

Several children ran up and spoke with Spotted Fawn as Bluebird led the way to a secluded place along a narrow, fast-flowing river. When they got to the bathing spot, Bluebird flapped her hands at the children and they ran off giggling.

If Enid wasn’t also Sorcha, she might have had a typical colonial woman’s reticence about being seen in her undergarments. As it was, she didn’t hesitate to strip down and step into the frigid water. It took her breath away when she squatted in a sandy depression that seemed to have been hollowed out for the purpose of bathing. She grabbed handfuls of sand and quickly scrubbed her skin and hair. It was a deeply chilling, painful experience, but when she’d dried off and dressed in the linen leggings and soft buckskin dress her mother handed her, the worst of the shivering began to subside.

The moccasins were too big, so she wore her own battered leather shoes. She gathered up her soiled garments and they went back to the longhouse as one of the drifting clouds sprinkled them with a fine powder of snow. Inside, Spotted Fawn shyly offered to comb her hair. More and more people came inside the longhouse as the afternoon waned. The fire pits that ran down the middle of the cavernous space were soon sending clouds of aromatic smoke up to the vents in the ceiling as family after family prepared their evening meal. Enid was not ignored; she saw many eyes directed her way, but her mother’s privacy was respected and no one intruded on their meal of steamed fish, beans and some kind of potato-like tuber.

“I was adopted into the clan not long after arriving here,” Bluebird said. “My clan mother was a good woman and I have many sisters I will introduce you to tomorrow.”

Enid was in the midst of a most foreign environment, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, sights and sounds, but felt strangely as if she’d come home. That is, until a stocky warrior walked in through one of the doors and headed straight for them. His legs were bowed outward, a condition Enid knew from Sorcha to be caused by rickets in childhood. Bluebird jumped up to intercept him, but he ignored her and stopped in front of Enid. His face was anything but welcoming.

“So this is the witch,” he said.