Message from the Past
By Simahoyo
(Jane's fascination for historic sites enters her dreams.)
The war continued. The people were hungry and sick. They had no time to bring in a harvest, and so their food rotted in the fields, while the enemies waited–unseen, and unheard, outside the stockade. The town was small. Only 25 longhouses huddled inside the oak walls. Each longhouse once held 25 or so people, within the elm bark walls. The wars had taken the mature men, save two hands, all occupied watching from the ramparts. Little children had died from hunger, and everyone's belly groaned.
It was warm again, before the wild New York winter would blast the land again. Everyone knew more would die.
Orenda, their healer, made medicine. She read the smoke from dried blackberry leaves. The reading was as empty as she felt. Someone shook the bearskin on the door to her longhouse, and by the sound, she knew it was Abhaya. She smiled clicking her tongue to call in her friend. Abhaya's long body glided inside, but the frown on her face was matching most of the Clan Mother's. Abhaya was a poor seamstress, and her efforts could have been comical if their situation were not so frightening. She sat next to Orenda and looked at the shell she used for her work. "Sagole, did you see anything?"
Skipping her greeting, Orenda answered immediately."No, not yet. But your dream gives me hope." Orenda put her medicine bundle away in her personal space, and opened the divider between the rooms she shared with her clan. Then she faced her friend, while her sister, Ahmisa moved into the next room, politely walking away fortheir privacy.
"Ah, my dream. I saw a young boy. If he doesn't arrive soon, I think we will all die. Or kill each other. I saw him walk into the sacred space all alone. Yaogah believes in my dream. I'm not sure I do so much. Not now." She bowed her head, and scratched at the wraparound skirt she had so clumsily sewn. Orenda looked at her with affection. Abhaya was a dreamer, and a good one. But like so many, she was losing heart. Orenda tried to offer something good. "Gohone is trying to dig roots by the pond." He is brave to attempt women's work, don't you think?" Abhaya grinned., picturing the slender warrior grubbing for cattail roots, while the young warriors made fun. "I'll help him. Maybe a foolish duck will stop by." And Abhaya was gone. Orenda motioned to Ahimsa, and the two sat and peeled the cases from pumpkin seeds. And as sisters will, they chatted, or sang hopeful prayers, their voices adding a thin stream of beauty to the despair around them.
The silence of the birds and animals made Abhaya even more cautious than usual. Her moccasins moved nearly soundlessly along the path as her eyes swept the area. She was nearing the sacred space in the center of the town when lightning ran up her spine. She stopped breathing, and looked at the small boy in front of her. He was probably 8 years old, wearing only a breechcloth and moccasins. They were undecorated. He wore no scalplock in his hair. He was the boy from her dream. Tears stung her eyes. "It begins." she whispered.
Jane woke suddenly, growling at the sound of her cell phone. She grabbed it, and tamped down her morning grouchiness in case it was someone she actually wanted to talk to. The motel room as just a little cold, so she kept a blanked around her shoulders, as she got out of bed. She glanced at her phone, shrugging. Why was Frankie calling her so blasted early?
"What?", she snapped.
"You'd better sit down."
"Am I fired? Nobody told me anything."
"Not you, dummy–Maura."
"Good. No, she didn't do anything..well except for blocking my calls, and the nasty note on her door, and the court order. Damn that woman has a temper."
"I know, Janie. It's all over the department. The Feebs called her into Cavanaugh's office. They wanted her to identify some people, and I guess...well, you know how ladylike the guys all thought she was?
"Yeah."
"That balloon has popped.. The woman has a vocabulary of swear words, um, like when Dad dropped the $2000 granite countertop and broke it. I don't know what all happened, but Frost said she told them all to go to hell, and stomped out of there, slamming the door."
"Wow. Maua can stomp! So she's out? Anything about my case? IA really pushed me hard. I was tempted, but for once, I watched my mouth."
Frankie chuckled, "Nothing yet. I'm keeping a ear to the ground.. How's Montreal?"
"I didn't go. I got sidetracked by some historical markers.."
"Figures. What are you looking at now? More witches?"
"Nope. Mohawks. I'm in Upstate New York. There's some interesting stuff about a guy that wrote this, 'Great Peace',
Forerunner to the Constitution. I can even pronounce his name. Skennenrahowi.. Shoulda seen the guide's face when I said it right. Might as well have fun while I'm waiting."
"Y e a h. Have a ball, history girl. I'll call you when I know more."
Jane shut off her cell, and sat on the bed, reading guidebooks, then showered and dressed for another day of playing tourist. She dropped by the only café in the tiny town, and sat at the counter. The farmers and their wives stared openly.
Apparently they didn't get many visitors. The food smelled good. Or she was extra hungry. She ordered coffee, and the breakfast special, because it reminded her of her mother's cooking. It was ok, but didn't have her mother's touch. No bunny pancakes. "God, I'm an idiot. I miss Ma only because I can't legally see her. Damn Maura and her court order., she thought."
The hundred yards Jane wasn't allowed within included Angela's home.
Maura fiddled with her fork, trying hard to actually eat what was on her plate. She was bored and furious–not a good combination. She had already taken her anger out on every breakable item she owned (except the heirlooms), and then gone through a case of eggs. She went to her desk, pulled out her engineer's ruler, and placed it on her desk. Then she opened another drawer for the extra strength rubber bands. She glared at her breakfast, and threw it away. Carefully washing the dishes. When everything was neat and clean, she reached behind a door, and pulled out a life sized standing photo of Jane Rizzoli, murmuring, "See, Bass, I can do target practice too." The tortoise just blinked at her.
In the garden, she set up the target, using wooden stakes to hold it in place. She paced off the distance, placed a rubber band on the end of the ruler, and pulled back. Her aim was good, and it hit Jane's, "face" right on the nose. Maura spent nearly an hour soothing her feelings when she noticed Angela approaching. She could not hurt that woman. It wasn't her fault...Maura ran to the target and held it facing away from Angela.
"Hi, Maura, What are you doing?'
And the hyperventilation started. Maura thought several choice profanities while she struggled to breathe. "Something I shouldn't. Can we please leave it at that? Please." Her breathing eased.
Angela frowned. Her discussion with Constance Isles had prepared her somewhat for this conversation.
"I think this has gone on long enough, Maura."
"No. It's not over until I say it's over!."
"God, what were you like when you were going through your terrible twos? And yes, I have been speaking with your mother. She's worried about you. And so am I. You used to be so kind and loving, and now—everything makes you furious. When is this going to stop?"
"I've had a few things to deal with, if you recall. I was nearly killed twice, Mother ...Mom, almost died protecting me, Jane killed my father and ...Oh no. I didn't mean to...I'm sorry. You had no idea and I had no right to...I'm so sorry..." and Maura ran into her house, weeping.
Angela picked up the cutout of her daughter, and carried it back to her house, shaking her head.
Jane really liked the replica longhouse, and felt right at home kneeling inside. The cute guide joined her, automatically kneeling and giving her a lopsided smile before asking the tour group, "Can you imagine living with up to 25 of your relatives in one house? "
" My God, I thought I had no privacy growing up. What was the homicide rate?"
He laughed, saying under his breath, "Cop?"and winked at her nod as he replied, "We don't really know, but there was a lot of fighting. People were afraid to leave their homes, and could be attacked while harvesting food, so starvation was a real factor here."
Jane looked around at the fields of corn, and grapes, thinking of the self-inflicted hard times of those people. "I don't feel the way I do at battlefields. It's peaceful here. Nice."
"How do you feel at battlefields?"
"Shivery, sick to my stomach, like bugs are running under my skin. I hate Lexington and Concord. Lost my lunch at Phipps' Farm."
"Some people have a certain sensitivity to old war, and battle sites. I would guess you're one of them. The reason it isn't here is because Skeenenrahowi lived here, and taught here. The tree of peace he planted absorbed the blood of those wars and battles. Enough good will make the bad m...go away.."
"I hope that's true. Oh God, I hope so.", thought Jane, also wondering what he had started to say.
End chapter 1.