Bradley stood in the time-warp room, whispering to me, telling me his visit was urgent. His face registered genuine concern and he sat on the creaking bed covered in Granny's quilts to explain why he'd showed up so late. "The people who have Joe, they're not good. In fact, they're about as bad as it gets in water time."

"I thought I'd seen the worst it could get in Pandora. Trying to drown a child to escape?"

"True, maybe as bad. My dad was in his office tonight when Ah came home from delivering flowers to the funeral home an he was in his office talking on the phone. He said, 'Keep him alive, or no deal on the Rock.' Ah can't believe he's involved but that must be Joe."

"Well, to be clear, did you hear him say the name Joe?" I crossed my arms, pacing in front of him.

"Naw, but Ah know the people he's been dealing with. Bad folks who'll do anything to get their greedy hands on our land." He looked at me with those smoldering hazel eyes full of worry and the intensity I used to feel around him washed over me. I shook my head to clear it.

"Ah want you to have this," he said, handing me a small box which I held between us for a few seconds, allowing his hand to touch mine. "It's to keep you safe." he explained.

I opened it and saw a familiar shape, silver and rounded with a broad nose and stubby tail. "A bear," I said. It dangled from a chain as I picked it up.

"It's the bear from the Cherokee legend of Healing Waters. This bear will protect you, Ah believe. Apparently, it saved my great grandmother once. She was Cherokee."

"Wow, I don't know the legend, but this is an incredible gift, Bradley. Are you sure you want someone outside your family to have it?"

"You are family. We grew up together. It sucks that our folks fight, but you and I are still good, right? You're too close to the epicenter of this conflict. If Ah had a way to protect you and didn't use it, Ah'd feel terrible if anything happened. But Ah do, so here, wear it--at all times."

"Yes, Sir." He stared at me and a river of questions floated by, none making much sense.

"Anyway, Ah was hoping we could have a snoop over."

I smiled. When we were little, that's what we called it when our parents got together for dinner. There we'd be in his giant house as he gave me a tour of all the rooms and secret passageways that allowed us to snoop on the grownups. Everything was mysterious back then. "This time, it'll be a real snoop over, to see what we can find out in Dad's office. But it'll have to be in the daylight, while he's golfing. Should give us plenty of--"

"--snooping time. "

Hours later I woke from a dream so real it was hard to get a firm grip on where I actually was as the aromas of sausage and maple syrup wafted over Granny's quilts. I had been in Pandora and had smelled something much less appetizing: smoke. A cigarette burned on the ground, catching dry pine needles. Smoke billowed and grew higher and higher up to a colossal ceiling  of wooden beams. An intricate tapestry on the wall depicting a forest scene caught fire and erupted into hot searing flames. Somone coughed, and I knew who it was as I pulled back the covers and headed down the hall following the scent of all things comforting.

Granny was bustling about the kitchen as I went to get coffee. "Mornin, howd' ja sleep?" she said and reached to hug me with the hand not attached to the spatula. "Fresh berries ova there for ya."

"Morning, Granny, thanks."

"Heard you had a visitor last night, or was that an owl?" She winked at me, and her sparkling eyes lingered on my neck. "Oh wow, Nancy's bear."

"Apparently it protects the wearer. At least, Bradley told me that."

"You bet'cha it does. Saved Nancy in that flood back in tha day. She was named after the beloved woman, a Cherokee warrior named Nan'yehi who lived right here in Watauga county. Nancy's whole town in the holler was supposed to be evacuated before they flooded it for electrical power. But she was prepared to die in her home, said she'd never leave, and it saved her. The water just rose right up around Nancy evyware but she stayed dry. Some say that's her in those blue mountain lights blinkin away, sayin catch me if you can."

I absorbed the tale and took a sip of hot coffee weak as water. No Starbucks, but it had the same charge and effect, maybe from the local legend as eerie as the ones I'd heard about Pandora. "I've been coming here every year of my life. Why haven't I heard about Nancy before?"

"Lots to learn this summer. Your dad said you're ready, naw you've passed some kinda test and played a mighty fine hero out there in Pandora. We all kept it quiet for your--"

"--safety, I know. Speaking of Dad, any word from him?" I needed to tell him about Bradley's dad and the possible connection to Joe's captor.

"Too early in the mornin there to tell; give it time and we'll keep the prayers a comin."

The phone rang as if on cue. I reached for the archaic land line. "Hello?" I asked hopefully.

"Star," Dad said. 

My heart quickened. "What's going on? Did you find Joe?"

"Not yet."

I told him what Bradley had overheard and the people he warned us about, wishing I had more information, a name, a suspect. Then I described my dream, all of it, in hopes that the details might help. Was Joe in danger of being burned to death from his own bad smoking habit?

"I've been seeing that tapestry too. Star, I didn't know you had the gift of dreams. No wonder you used to have nightmares as a kid."

I had been a terrified little girl at night, holding my blanket up to my eyes to protect them from the ghost stories circulating my brain, tales of horror from campfires and books and movies. "My psych teacher says it's not about what happens in dreams, but what the events represent," I pointed out.

"Okay, but in this case, my visions and your dreams are connecting. What colors do you see in the tapestry?"

I described greens, every shade from apple to sage to evergreen woven into an alpine wonderland.

"It's the same one I'm seeing behind Joe. I'm heading to the art gallery as soon as they open. Hopefully they can track down the tapestry and the owner."

"How about I join you?" I said hopefully. Otherwise, I wasn't scheduled to return until Pandora was covered in several feet of snow and ice during the holiday ski season. That was too far away.

"Not yet, but stay tuned."

~*~

I charged the SUV up the winding drive to the Reynolds compound and through the fortress gates flanked by moss-covered stones. The bright morning air was giving way to the softer skies of noon. Not the crisp dry turquoise of a Pandora summer, the atmosphere was filled with moisture falling in great drops from the trees as the sun climbed higher. The poplars that surround us in Atlanta grow here too, their cat-shaped leaves turning yellow even in August. I took a deep breath of the cut hay scent of late summer wildflowers blooming along the road at an altitude of close to four thousand feet.

I passed several chalet-style buildings along the drive, including a separate garage, stables, and a guest house. Back when his dad and my dad had been closer, Bradley and I spent hours here every summer. A memory flashed as I passed a little hedged-in garden: of playing duck, duck, goose at his annual birthday party and him chasing me in circles until we fell down giggling; cake and ice cream followed. Before the different lodges tore their boyhood friendship apart. Our dads still kept polite greetings but not the close laughter over late dinners we would spy on as kids. The more recent conversations were reserved and guarded and absolutely trustless.

I approached the main house, a stone structure that had been preserved and updated with three-stories worth of glass, tree-sized beams, and bark shingle. A gravel lot at the back was already filling up with caterers for Bradley's birthday party tonight and farmers carrying crates of local produce. It was so Bradley to have a farmer's market party with all the proceeds going to the local food pantry. He saw me and waved, a grin on his face, but someone else approached him and his smile evaporated. He and his mom were arguing already. She was a petite lady full of energy and holding a colorful bouquet.

"Ah said no flowers ya can't eat. Broccoli only, Mama, please."

"But nasturtiums are edible, and so is lavender and, well look what's hiding in this bouquet."

"Broccoli. Thank you, Mama, as long as they're donated to the community action center when the party's over. Some people can't afford anything to eat right now, let alone flowers."

"Of course, the birthday boy gets his wish, always thinking of others. Stella, it's nice to see you. We're so glad you're in town and can make it tonight," she finally acknowledged me, using my formal name as always.

"You as well, Mrs. Reynolds. It wouldn't be summer in Crystal Rock without celebrating Bradley's birthday." I made a short bow but she side-hugged me and then stopped to look at my throat.

"Nancy's bear. Oh my, from what I've heard about you saving your little cousin, you've earned wearing it. I'll pray that her spirit will protect you from whomever has that poor sheriff out there."

I fumbled with the chain, trying to weigh my worthiness against such generosity. But that was the Reynolds family I knew. Over generous, but then I'd heard Dad say that nothing was free. What might I be required to give in return? "Thank you. I'll try and honor this and I'll definitely return it before we leave. It was so kind of Bradley to loan it to me while I'm here."

"You keep it," he said, and she nodded, a little reluctantly, in agreement.

"I'm sure they'll find him sooner than that," she said, rubbing my arm. "Anyway, I've got to get to the kitchen and show them the set up. See you tonight, seven sharp. Please don't be late to your own party." She looked at Bradley who gave her a "yes, ma'am" bow. Someone asked her where to put another bouquet and she stepped quickly in that direction.

Bradley and I entered the back door, skirting around a guy carrying a tray of glasses, and made our way up the long stairs surrounded by family photos on the stone wall. Almost all of them involved fishing or golf or fireside portraits. One made me stop. There was twelve-year-old Bradley in a garden, hands dirty, holding up a proud turnip he had grown himself. "You still love your gardening," I said.

"As long as Ah can share that with others, A'm a happy guy. Come on, while no one's looking." The office around the corner was dark, a good sign, and no one seemed to be cleaning in the area, so we headed for the large desk full of important projects.

"What exactly are we looking for?" I asked, scanning the bookshelf full of corporate awards and Reynolds Water company photos.

"Something secret, from someone he wouldn't want me to know about." He passed a hand under the desk and fumbled around. A tiny key emerged, and he held it up, then glanced at the same bookcase. There weren't many actual books in it, but he reached for one, an ancient spine that bore a diary-like lock. He used the key to open it. Calligraphy pronounced the title on the weathered front page: the history of water-time. He turned the page as a slick piece of paper fell out.

I picked it up and we held the old photo between us. It was the same image of Bradley when he was twelve holding the vegetable. On the back were words in smeared blue ink:

You owe me, and now's the time for payback, or your boy will end up buried in that garden he enjoys so much.