Sara stared at him with incredulity. “Don’t be silly, Jared and, please don’t insult my intelligence. I read about them in your grandfather’s book. On the opening page, it plainly states, ‘Forgotten Ancient Secrets of The Dine’é Yá and The Dine'é Kay-Yah by George Washington Thomas Thundercloud’.”
He rolled his eyes. “No, it doesn’t! It doesn’t even begin like that! I’ve read the book a hundred times. I memorized the stories by heart. There’s no mention of anything called the Dine'é Kay-Yah or the Dine’é Yá. My grandfather would never have used those names in anything. Especially not something he knew could reach millions of people!”
He knelt on the floor. From under his bed, he pulled out a trunk, similar to the one he had at Wisteria Hall. He took a small key out of his nightstand and opened the trunk. He reached in and brought out a book, looking exactly like the one Sara had. He opened it to the cover page and pointed. “Look!”
Forgotten Secrets and Traditions of The Navajo People by George Washington Thomas Thundercloud.
She stared at him in bewilderment. Her nerves were already frayed. “But it – the one Joel gave me – Jared, I’m not insane. I know what I read. Do you honestly think I came up with names like those on my own?”
“No, angel,” he smiled. “Where’s your copy?”
She opened her laptop case, unzipped the compartment underneath and took out a large brown envelope. She handed it to him. “Angel, it’s the same as mine,” he said, sympathetically. “Here, see for yourself.”
Cautiously, she reached for the book. “Don’t you see it?”
“See what, Sara?” he frowned.
“Are you blind? The book is glowing pale blue, Jared! And it’s not the same. What are you trying to do to me?”
“Angel, I’m not trying to do anything to you. The book is not glowing. Maybe you’re having another flashback.”
She slumped to the floor and buried her face in her hands. “Jared, am I crazy?” she cried. “Am I seeing things?”
“I’m not sure, but I can’t see what you do. Look, sketch what you see, exactly as you see it.”
“I’m not the artist – you are!”
He took out his sketch pad and a soft-lead pencil. “Then let’s try something else. Describe what you see, and I’ll sketch it out – OK?” Sara nodded. Jared sat beside her. “Now, don’t be afraid. I’m here with you. Take your time and tell me what you see.”
She took a deep breath and looked at the first paragraph. “There’s a pale blue glow around the entire book.”
“Coming from the pages or hovering above it like a halo?”
“From the pages, as if the book is some kinda door. It is a door. The center is pitch-black, like a moonless night without any stars or any form of light. The door is in a wall, a stone wall at the end of a long tunnel. There’s a strange symbol next to it.”
“In what shape, Sara? What does it look like?”
“The door or the symbol?”
“Both.”
“The door is kinda in the shape of a church window. Long, flat at the bottom, and comes to a point at the top – like a bullet.”
“Like that?”
“Yes, but not as broad. Yes, that’s it. Now, the symbol is to the right of the door, about where a doorbell would be. It looks like – if you can imagine three, two-pronged pitchforks, standing on their handles.” She watched him sketch. “Yes, like that. The handles are joined by a straight line. That line is standing on a rectangle. No, the rectangle’s smaller than the line.”
“Like that or nearer the center?”
“Nearer to the center. The rectangle has some kinda indentation in the middle of it – maybe a slot or a hole. Like that. Now, from the bottom of the rectangle, a short line goes down, and to the left, and then down again.”
Jared put his pencil down and forced his breath out.
“Why did you stop?” Sara prompted. “There’s more!”
He opened the trunk from under his bed again. He dug to the bottom, brought out an old Nestle Crunch candy wrapper and cautiously handed it to her. “I drew this when I was in the second grade, when we were living in Texas. I got into trouble for not paying attention during my history class,” he said. “I didn’t understand what it was, but it was still more interesting than listening to stupid lies about heathen savages being taught the word of God by Spanish missionaries.”
She unfolded the wrinkled and torn wrapper and gasped. The picture wasn’t as good as his current sketch. The lines were a little wavy and it had been drawn with a green crayon, but it was the same symbol and the same door, no doubt about it. She looked at Jared with tear-glossed eyes. “What is it? What does it mean? Why am I seeing a symbol you drew nearly nineteen years ago?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled. “Destiny, Sara,” he whispered. “While you and I were being drawn to each other in my dreams, some force was drawing us together in the waking world. We’re not together by chance, angel. Our futures are intertwined for a higher purpose. One I don’t even understand.”
“But you seem pleased. At first you were afraid for me. You’re not afraid of what’s happening to me anymore?”
“No, angel,” he whispered. “This isn’t some random trip brought on by acid. You’re having a vision brought on because of your exposure to dream dust. Sara, you’re a seer!”
She frowned. “I’m a what?”
“Everyone born to the Dine'é Kay-Yah Clan are seers. Whether the gift develops or not, it’s in your genes. Are you certain about your past? Your parents? Is James your real father?”
She shook her head. “Oh, God, Jared! Slow down. You’re making me dizzy. Of course, he’s my father! Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Unless you’re an exceptional person of unique genetic makeup than other Caucasians, exposure to dream dust should’ve driven you mad, but it didn’t. It did the same thing to you that it does to me. It opened your mind to different realities and allowed you to see things pertaining to your future. Because you don’t know anything about it, and the symbolism, you didn’t know how to take it. You have nothing to be afraid of, Sara. What’s happening to you is natural. We need to research your family history. We need to get to the bottom of this.”
“How do you suggest we begin? Why would my mother have such a strong hatred of Native Americans if – wait a minute – are you suggesting my real father is… like you?”
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “Now that would be the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t it?” he chuckled.
She shook her head. “There must be another explanation. We have pictures of me and my dad teaching me to walk.”
He took her hands. “What about before that? Are there any of you and your father when you were an infant?”
“God, Jared, I don’t know. I’ve never been big on family history. If there are, my mother will have them, back in Crooked Creek.”
“Do you know where you were born? What town or city? What was the name of the hospital?”
“Shreveport, I think. Like I said, I’ve never been concerned about my past. It didn’t matter to me. At least it hadn’t until now. If Mother kept this from me, she would never own up to it. What difference does it make – to us?”
“Between us, none at all. It won’t change the way I feel about you, but, when it comes to The Council accepting you into our Clan, it could make a huge difference.”
“What do you mean accepting me into your Clan?”
“Uncle Seth is head of The Council. He would have the final say, but, if we proved you were already part of the Clan, the members would probably fight against him if he tried to cause trouble.”
“And you think because of the past, he’s likely to cause trouble?”
“If he thought it could hurt Dad or the family, Seth would do anything to get even with Granddad, even through future generations.”
“Jared, I love my father. He’s the only father I’ve ever known. How do you think it would make him feel to find out I wasn’t his daughter? I couldn’t do that to him. Mother already dominates him. This kinda news would destroy him. I couldn’t do that to my father.”
“You might not have to. We don’t have to tell your parents what we find out. The only people who need to know are my family, our family, and members of The Council. Even if we discover James isn’t your real father, he doesn’t ever need to know. Sara, you can’t simply let this go. If I’m right, and you’re Dine'é Kay-Yah, you need help. You need my guidance. Until you understand more about what’s going on, this will only get worse. The visions won’t stop, especially for you.”
Her lips parted. “My eyes aren’t gonna start changing, are they?”
He smiled and held her. “No, angel. As far as I know, it only happens to Dine'é Kay-Yah males. Women can carry the gene and pass it on to their children, but there’s never been a case where it’s shown up in a female. I guess it’s a guy thing.”
Sara stared at him suspiciously. He chuckled. “I told you there were some things even I didn’t know or understand. Granddad would’ve shared those stories with me if I’d been smart enough to listen.”
“Why can’t you ask him now? You said you talked with him. You said it was the reason you went back to the mountain, to get answers. Couldn’t you do the same thing about this?” She couldn’t believe her own words. Was she actually asking her future husband to contact his dead grandfather?
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I suppose, I could try.” He glanced at the time on his phone. “It’s late. Let’s try and get some sleep. We can talk to my parents and deal with this tomorrow.” He snorted. “Well – later on today.”
“What about the nightmares? If I go to sleep, the monsters will come back. Jared, they’re scary! How real are things in our dreams?”
“If you’re asking me whether the things in your dreams can take solid form and physically hurt you in the waking world – no. Although they might contain useful information and visions of your future, they’re only dreams. They can’t step out of that realm. Besides, I’m with you. Do you think I’d allow anything to hurt you, whether in the waking world or in your dreams?”
“But how can I know you’ll always be there – to help me?”
“Haven’t I always been there?” he smiled.
“I don’t know – have you?”
They crawled into bed. Sara laid her head on his shoulder, and he cuddled her close. “Do you remember any of your scariest nightmares when you were a child?”
“Some – why?”
“In your earliest nightmares, as far back as you can remember, when you were faced with imminent danger or your worst fears, did something or someone come to you? Was there someone who fought for you or stood by you, even unto death?”
She closed her eyes. “Jared, I don’t like remembering those things. I’ve fought hard to forget them. My dreams were usually scary. Trying to recall them, especially after what I’ve seen, and what you’ve told me, make them even scarier now. Over the years, I’ve blocked most of them out.”
“Listen to the sound of my voice. Hold on to the fact that I’m here and I’m real. I need to know if I’m right about this. Did you ever dream about being in a burning building?”
“Yes.”
“Did you recognize it? Did you know where you were?”
“I was lost. Smoke was everywhere. I was crying. I couldn’t see. I was alone. I couldn’t find my parents. I had an extremely strong feeling I should go in a particular direction. But when I did, instead of leading me out, it led me deeper into the building. The smoke was thick, and burning my throat. I couldn’t breathe.”
“How old were you? Can you remember?”
“I don’t know. Three – four – maybe even five. I don’t think I had started school yet.”
“Did you get out of the building? Did you wake up before you died?”
Sara silently cried; Jared could feel her tears, warm and wet on his shoulder. He closed his eyes. His heart ached. This was hurting her, and hurting her, hurt him. “I got out, obviously,” she said, trying to keep a steady voice. She didn’t want him to know how upset and weak she was.
“How? How did you get to safety?”
She took a slow breath. All she could remember was the pale blue light, the same light she’d seen from the book, and something white.
“It was a dog, Jared. A small white dog with soft amber eyes. I was tired. I wanted to sleep. I was falling asleep, and it licked my face until I opened my eyes. I reached out to pet it, but as soon as my fingertips were close enough, it backed away. Each time I tried to touch it, the dog stepped back. The next thing I knew, I was out, in the clean air, gathered in strong, warm arms. I remember. I reached out to pet the little white dog… but it was gone. When I looked up, I was alone again. There was no face to go with the warm embrace that had held me.”
“So you think it was a man who embraced you? You said strong, warm arms. Did you see his face or the color of his eyes?”
“They were as dark as the night. The glow from the fire danced like a firefly in his eyes.”
Jared kissed her temple, remembering. “What color… are your father’s eyes?”
“And your mother’s?”
Sara swallowed the lump in her throat. “They’re blue too, only hers are a brighter blue, like Lucy’s.”
“So where did your brown eyes come from, angel? Who in your family has or had brown eyes?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t think there were any, not unless it was several generations back,” she yawned.
“We’ll talk more in the morning. Remember if you get scared in your dreams, think of the little white dog with the amber eyes. Somehow, I think it’ll be there for you again, but it might be bigger, and its eyes might be crimson now.”