Chapter 29

Sunlight roused Samantha as it peaked through the trees and poked at her eyes. In self-defense, she covered her face but then, remembered she was going home today. As she rolled over and sat up, the mantel clock began to strike and someone knocked on the door.

“I’m up!” she called.

“Breakfast in ten minutes,” John called through the door.

“You don’t have to sound so cheerful this early!” she shouted back and faint laughter echoed in the hallway.

She managed to meet the ten minute time frame but just barely. As she rushed into the dinning room she pulled up abruptly in the doorway. John and Aunt Isabel were alone at the table.

John was helping himself from the buffet while Isabel was pouring coffee into her cup. Both paused and looked at her.

“Good morning, my dear,” Isabel smiled. “I’ve poured you a cup of coffee. You can help yourself to whatever you like on the buffet.”

Whatever she liked was certainly on the buffet. There were eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits, gravy, jam, strawberries and blue berries, muffins. There was enough food for a dozen people. It was a lucky thing that she found herself famished. She heaped her plate and joined them at the table. She took her bacon and put it in her biscuit and took a bite, closing her eyes and savoring the taste. One thing was certain, she was going to miss the cook.

“John tells me you’ve decided to leave this morning.” Isabel’s voice brought her back from her culinary daydream. “I’m really sorry to hear that. I had planned on taking a walk this morning and showing you some of the local color. There is a small village half a mile away where we attend church and there are some interesting people I wanted you to meet.”

To herself, Samantha wondered what definition her aunt used for the word interesting. So far, interesting as Isabel understood it was not as she understood it. She said, “I am sorry. Perhaps on our next visit we can do more. I. . .” She paused and stared into her plate. What, she thought, what excuse are you going to give her? Her daughter is a devil. . . crazy? How about just the truth?

“Aunt Isabel, I should not have come uninvited. I think, perhaps, your family was a bit put out by our visit. I do apologize for that.”

“Nonsense! You are my family, Samantha!” She split a biscuit in half and spread jelly on it. “You are always welcome here. Loren would say the same thing. I know he was rather rude the other night but believe me, it is not you personally he has a problem with. The Green Militia is vital for our defense. Loren is a captain in the local militia. He doesn’t like to believe that his men are capable of such acts. When he hears such tales, it upsets him.”

Isabel bit into her biscuit. “If we can’t trust our militia, who can we trust? What happened to you was more than unusual.”

Both John and Sam stared at her.

“They were under his command?” John’s ire was evident.

Isabel quickly corrected herself. “No! No! He commands a small group from our village. The men you told us about must have been from the area you came through. Each village has a Captain that commands the volunteers in his village and surrounding area. They patrol in sectors, of which the village is the center.”

Sam shook her head. “They weren’t from that sector. The villagers didn’t recognize the man, except for one citizen. They indicated that this man was connected to rogue militiamen who prey on the area. Several people were ready to hang him immediately.”

Confusion etched Isabel’s face as she set her cup down and placed her hands in her lap. “I wish you’d told Loren this. I have only heard rumors of these men.” She sighed and tossed her napkin on the table. “I’ve been here a long time but there are many in the Outland I do not know. I’ve kept close to my home and the village here. I never returned to the Province.”

“Uncle Loren didn’t seem interested in anything we had to say on the matter,” John replied. “He was certain we were wrong about the whole thing. The people in the village and the Constable can verify what we told you but he didn’t seem to care.”

Sam remembered a message one of the villagers had asked to be delivered to Isabel. “Wait, there was a man who asked us to tell you that Old Perry still dreams of you.”

A blush suffused her face and she covered her mouth with her napkin and stared at Samantha with wide eyes. “What did you say?”

“He said Old Perry still dreams of you.”

She heaved a sigh and dropped both hands to her lap. “Well, I can’t believe it. Perry Croft. I would have thought he was dead by now,” she stared off into space several minutes. “He tried to court me when I first arrived here. He was a bit older than me but that didn’t matter. He was persistent.” She laughed and added, “Good thing you didn’t mention this in front of Loren. He was insanely jealous of Perry.”

Samantha remember the man with the grey hair and wrinkled face. He must have been a good bit older than her aunt. She couldn’t imagine a relationship of any sort between the ethereal Isabel and the earthy Perry. But then, stranger things had happened. Loren wasn’t her idea of Romeo either.

“We have to be going, Aunt Isabel,” John said. “I don’t want to be on an open road in the Outland after dark.”

Sam pushed her chair back and lay her crumpled napkin on the table. John followed suit and together they left the dinning room.

Isabel trailed behind. “I hate that we didn’t have more time. There was so much to talk about and to show you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Sam said. She turned and took both Isabel’s hands in her own. “I really am sorry. For not letting you know ahead of time, for barging in on your family, for all the trouble we’ve put you to. But I am so very glad we got to meet.” She leaned forward and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

Isabel blushed and squeezed Samantha’s hands. Tear glistened in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “It’s too bad my brother didn’t bring you sooner. I could have been more help to you.”

It was a sentiment that Samantha felt as well and lay like a weight in her chest. Why had her father kept Isabel a secret?

“I do have one question I’d like to ask before I leave, if I may?” Samantha said.
“Of course.”

She hesitated, still uncertain as to whether or not she really wanted an answer. “The circles. What happens. . . I mean, when someone like me or you enters the rings, what happens to us?”

Isabel smiled. “I think you already know this answer, Samantha.”

She nodded, and swallowed before she spoke again. “How many of us are there?”

This time Isabel stepped back and pulled her hands free and dropped her eyes. “There may be others, it would seem likely, but I don’t know how many there are.”

It was on the tip of Sam’s tongue to ask about Alana but John interrupted and she decided that perhaps it was for the best not to wake that sleeping dog. Besides, she reasoned, if the truth were told, she already knew about Alana.

Half an hour later their things were packed and the wagon loaded. Sergeant was on the seat waiting for them when Isabel walked them out. John helped Sam up and turned to give his aunt a hug and kiss on the cheek. Isabel whispered something in his hear. He nodded and climbed aboard.

As the wagon rolled out of the drive, Samantha looked back. Isabel still stood watching. She waved and Sam waved back, smiling. Her smile faded as her eyes were drawn to the widow’s walk. A figure in a flowing white dress stood at the railing. As she watched, the figure lifted a hand and waved. Samantha turned away and stared at the road ahead of them. Cold fingers of fear slipped up her back as a tightness in her chest constricted her lungs. Slowly, as they moved away from the house, the tightness lifted. They rounded the curve in the road that hid the house from view and Sam was able to draw in a deep cleansing breath. She released it in a great sigh.

John looked at her, “You all right?”

Sam nodded.

“We can come back again, when things have settled down a bit. Later in the summer would be a good time to go up into the mountains. Aunt Isabel will be glad to spend more time with you. She liked you. We’ll just let them know ahead of time, so the family won’t be surprised.”

“I don’t think I’ll be coming back here, John. At least. . . not to this house.”

He glanced at her, frowning.

“I don’t think it is safe for me.”