September 29, 1930 -- Letter From Dacia Neville

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Mailed From Zuni, NM

Sep. 29, 1930
Zuni Reservation
New Mexico

My Dear

Our friend the Big Russian has just been and gone. He, and Jack and Kyle and Mary are on their way to San Francisco.

Jack Armstrong has gone over to the Boy Scouts it seems. Made some sort of promise to throw in with them, and do what he can to "save the world." Alexi looks well, and has brought me the wonderful news that Idrinna and he are expecting their first child, perhaps due to arrive sometime in early spring. Mary and Kyle . . . . well . . . they were pretending to be married so as not to offend the Pattersons. I don't know if you would have laughed to see them -- or would have been looking for something to settle a stomachache. I've never heard such outlandish baby talk and billing and cooing . . . it fell entirely past the moment of good taste and into the realm of absurd. If I hear "Who's my oopsy-boopsy babykins?" ever again - - - -

But they're gone now. Along with some scatter-brained idea of Alexi's to open a restaurant in Washington D.C. populated by the locals here - cooking their native foods. Where does he get these ideas?

All right . . . I’m rattling on. Not my usual self, and I don't know where to begin or how to start. I wish you were here. More than anything in the world right now, because I simply need to have your presence and your good common sense to tell me that everything will be all right. Not to worry. Not to be afraid.

They were in France. They brought back from that House In France - something more than just Jack promising to work with those people. Some sort of story . . . no, not a story -- because they have evidence to prove what they say. Maybe only circumstances - but all of the pieces fit. And you and I know so well, how the flimsiest of things fall together on the least sort of pretext . . .

Lamont -- I am so afraid right now. Because if what they tell me is true there is something larger and darker and different than anything that we've seen. Waiting to swallow me up, and change everything before we have a hope of a life together. I don't want it to be true, but I know somewhere, with that same certainty that tells me that the tiger is approaching, that it is true.

It's complicated, and even Alexi and Jack and Kyle don't seem to know the whole of it. But they know enough to convince me of their honesty, and their faith, and their need. They are just as afraid as I am -- maybe in a different way -- or for a different reason - but it is still there.

I'm just terrified that having found you . . . it will all be snatched away. They are afraid that if I refuse . . . the entire world will all be snatched away.

Where do we draw the line, my dear? Between what is our obligation to others, what our duty to the greater good is? Between what we ought to do and what we want to do? You see this so much clearer that I do, you always know what the right choice is. How not to compromise who you are. How to set aside everything else, and do the right thing . . . even when it exacts a personal cost.

How can I do less than you have?

They want me to . . . oh, I don't know really. Become something else, something important and greater than just Dacia Neville. They've given me names, people to talk to, others who have gone through this --- transformation, change . . people who seem to have gone through this event and come out on the other side of it. Different - but also it seems still themselves.

There is a folklore amongst the Boy Scouts - something even that Jack believes in with the faith of a churchman -- if you can believe that of him. A folklore that is coming true with each passing day, that is known, understood and predictable. That now seems to be bearing down on me, and on you too of course. Both because you're in my orbit for good or bad - and because they believe that you too are part of it.

I don't know the whole truth of this. Even Alexi and the rest seem to know only parts of it. They are urging me to go back to France, or to at least write or meet with Mr. Ellis. Or to write and talk to those who have already undergone this . . . pledge? Mrs. Hannalore Wiess, Miss Constance Talmadge, Miss Alexndria Durrell. I don't know any of these names, but I have addresses . . . places to look, places to ask questions.

But, but . . . opening the door means no going back. You know that.

I will always remember, Lamont . . . the look in Jack's eyes. Just after they told me of their suspicions. Just after they told me that I fit the description . . . that they were convinced beyond any doubts what so ever -- that I was desperately needed to help remake the world. To make it safe. For everyone . . . for innocents like Idrinna's child.

Jack took my hands in his, standing out in the chill, under the stars, in the dust and dark. I thought Lamont, that he was . . . I don't know . . . I've never seen a man close to tears. But maybe it was just an illusion - something I imagined.

"I'm sorry, my dear." Is what he said.

That was enough to tell me everything I needed to know. About how important this is.

But . . . I'm afraid. I can't leave the children, there's no one here for them.

I need your advice, I need your strength.

I love you

Dacia.