Mountains of Dawn

The nightmare knocked all thoughts of sleep from Tanya. She wandered into the kitchen and put on a pot of water to boil. Chamomile tea, she thought. Nice and hot with a bit of honey, just like Mom made it when she was small.

She sat at the table and rested her head in her hand. Where did that thought come from? It had been so very long since she remembered her early childhood. In fact, she hardly remembered it at all. But now, with no warning, memories came flooding back-her mother, full of laughter; her father…she had images of a strong man holding her in his lap and reading to her, sharing loving glances with Mother. Her brother, a sleeping baby, lay cradled on her mother's lap. Mother sipped her tea and listened as Father continued to read.

Autumn, and the beginning of school… Her first year at school, just six and small for her age. Nanny tucking a clean hanky in her pocket, adjusting her coat… Nanny, who died too soon. Mother and Father… Tanya watched them leave, watched them enter the big car to take them to the airport. Her baby brother, wrapped in blankets, rode in Mother's arms. Gone, never to return.

She saw herself, a lost child, as her home was sold. She listened in her mind's ear as Uncle Ron, a stranger to her, told her she was an orphan. No one wanted her. No one cared. She was, he told her, a great inconvenience, but he would provide if she behaved.

He sent her to the first farm, and then to the second less than a year later. And many others after that. Rules changed from place to place, but she learned never to question. Questions and objections could lead to pain and punishment.

Tanya found her only solace in school, where she learned how to learn, how to study, how to play. Expectations were clear, rules were simple. She loved everything about school, and did well.

The tea kettle whistled, breaking into her thoughts. Tanya poured hot water into the pot, added a teaspoon of honey on top of the tea, and left it to steep.

Her mind returned to the memories brought back by Detective Warner's words, and by her dream. Pack and leave… So many times, she had to gather her belongings and leave, an unwanted orphan, worthless… She shook her head. No, not worthless. Tanya's angel took her into the future, brought her to where she was now-the angel from her childhood Christmas tree, drawn by eager fingers and entered into the school contest. She could still feel the pencils in her hands, carefully drawing the angel over and over in her every free moment from chores and fifth grade homework. With no colored pastels available, she varied the shades of darkness to contrast each element in her scene. And the angel grew, took form-tall and regal, his wings showed every feather as they partially enfolded his body. His cheeks puffed from the effort to force sound from the long trumpet. His robe flowed to touch the toes of each slender foot.