The Silver Threads of Time: A SilverShadows Book

By Helen Jane Chihal

For the women of SilverShadows, menopause isn't just another stage of life, their falling hormones show them who they were destined to be. This fast-paced action story chronicles the adventures of a group of older women bound together by genetic changes inserted into their cells thousands of years ago during a pandemic. Estrogen suppresses these mutant genes, but the removal of estrogen influences at menopause transforms them into women with unique abilities and both mental and physical super powers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Helen Jane Chihal
• Release date: Jun 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452460789

Helen Jane Chihal

Helen Jane Chihal is a retired gynecologist who specialized in hormonal disorders in women. One of her main clinical interests is menopause and she is certified as a menopause clinician by the North American Menopause Society. As an avid reader all her life, Helen was disappointed in how few adventure or fantasy books had older women as heroes. The positive effect of comic book “super heroes” on her children as they grew up impressed her. Where were the positive, mythic images for the menopausal woman? Almost two decades ago, she began writing for her own amusement adventure stories featuring the women of SilverShadows who discover their alternate identities after the withdrawal of estrogen at menopause. Although Dr. Chihal has written medical books on menopause, PMS and a book for the public on women’s health with Nancy Brinker, The Silver Threads of Time is her first full length work of fiction. Helen lives with her husband David in Dallas, Texas and has three grown children.

Book preview

The Silver Threads of Time

A SilverShadows Novel

By

Helen Jane Chihal

As my hair turns to silver,

The mirror pulls me through the mist

I see silvershadows which transform me

The reflections of my sisters

Connect the strands of time

And I grasp the power of my destiny

Published by Helen Jane Chihal at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Helen Jane Chihal

Prologue

Death as deception

Maria concentrated on the winding curves of the ocean road. The light of the setting sun emphasized the shadows and made the drive to work beautiful and more interesting, but also more challenging. Besides, she always had to be concerned about drivers who had enjoyed one too many cocktails and decided to drive home on the two lane road that hugged the cliffs over the Pacific.

She turned off the main road onto a small paved road which headed directly inland and then snaked up a modest hill to her destination, Ocean Manor. Maria parked in the employee parking lot and then hesitated one more moment to admire the sunburst orange reflecting from the sky onto the now calm waters. Going to work was a pleasure for her- especially here.

A lot of people don’t like to work with old folks, but I do, thought Maria. I think God has called me to do this work just like he calls priests or doctors or teachers. I’m thankful I can feel good every evening about coming here to help.

She remembered the tough years she and her family had worked to put her through nursing school. It had been worth all the effort. Now she could support her children in a profession she could be proud of.

Well, I better quit congratulating myself and get to work, she said out loud as she locked her car and started climbing the stairs to the main building.

Ocean Manor had many different levels of care including apartments for independent living for elderly but healthy tenants, assisted living for the more severely impaired including an Alzheimer’s unit and intense nursing care for the bedridden. Maria was the RN in charge of the night shift for the unit that required maximum care. But, she was also available in case other units needed her for consultation.

As Maria approached the employee entrance, she could see an ambulance parked under the back portico. Either someone was being transferred to the local hospital, returning from hospital care, or one of their patients had passed away. It was always sad to lose someone under her care. But, there was a time when age, disease, and frailty signaled it was time to move on. Her deep belief in the certainty of eternal existence made the death of a patient sad but bearable.

Death is part of life, she whispered to herself.

Maria walked in through the door and went immediately to the main nursing station to relieve her counterpart who had worked the last twelve-hour shift.

Hi, Samantha. What’s going on? asked Maria.

Boy, am I glad to see you? replied a small, blond curly haired woman who sat at the desk hunched over a stack of charts. I’m beat and I still have at least an hour of paperwork to do.

How can I help? asked Maria as she hung her sweater on the coat rack and slipped her lunch and a snack into the employee refrigerator.

They interrupted their conversation to watch as two ambulance attendants accompanied by two older women in sunglasses walked past the nurses’ station on their way to the waiting ambulance. The gurney obviously held a body completely covered by a sheet and dark blankets. The women walking with the body nodded sadly to the nurses as they passed. One was quietly crying and wiping her eyes.

Who did we lose? asked Maria.

Lucinda, replied Samantha.

"Lucinda? repeated Maria in surprise. I know she was in her early 90’s, but I don’t think I have ever seen a healthier 90 year old. She looked as if she could’ve jogged if she put her mind to it."

I guess when you’re that old, you never know when you’re going to go, said Samantha. Lucinda had a great, quirky sense of humor. I’ll miss her. Dr. Blevins has already been here to check her and sign the death certificate. The doctor said she probably died of a heart attack in her sleep. I hope I’m lucky enough to be that healthy and then just not wake up someday.

The morticians loaded the body into the back of their ambulance.

Do you ladies want to ride in the back to accompany your aunt to the funeral home? It’s ‘OK’ if you want to, said one of the men.

Yes, we would, said the weeping woman as her companion assisted her into the back of the ambulance and then got in with her. One mortician got into the back also, and the other took the driver’s seat. They pulled slowly out of the driveway and turned onto the coast road toward town.

The white sheet over the body’s face started to wiggle like a rabbit’s nose moving back and forth as soon as the ambulance pulled out of the driveway.

Lucinda, stop wiggling your nose! You’re supposed to be dead, said Francesca in a haughty, half-mocking tone.

My nose itches. Get this sheet off of my head and unlatch these belts so I can scratch my nose. It’s driving me crazy, said a voice from under the covers on the gurney.

"Your nose can’t itch. You’re dead," commented the other woman.

Beth, I’m not kidding. No one can see in the windows of this ambulance right now. Undo my arms. You can put them back before we get to the funeral home.

Both of the women seated in the ambulance began to giggle.

If you don’t unbuckle these straps, I’ll break them, said the determined voice from under the sheets.

OK. Hold your horses. Violence is not required, replied Beth wryly as she unlatched the top belts and pulled back the covers.

Lucinda began to vigorously rub her nose, sat up, and then let out a loud sneeze.

I know it’s only psychological, but the minute I can’t do something like rub my nose, it starts to itch, said Lucinda. I think the both of you are actually enjoying this. Those tears, Beth, were really convincing. You should’ve been an actress.

She wasn’t that good, commented Francesca dryly. You’d better get your nose scratching over, Lucinda. It isn’t far to the funeral home.

Your daughters will fly in tomorrow to plan your memorial service. They’re going to stay at a local hotel and make themselves very visible to handle any questions. Our judge will probate your last will and testament as soon as it seems appropriate, said Beth.

I’m glad my daughters are old enough to understand what is really happening. It would be very difficult if they didn’t know the truth, said Lucinda. They have that poor woman’s body waiting for me?

Yes, she’s been on ice waiting for you since she died on Wednesday. Poor thing. I’m glad we were able to care for her for the last years of her life. You know she had no family or close friends. There hasn’t been anyone to see her in years. She’ll be cremated in your place. We’ve selected a beautiful urn for the ashes, and we’ll always remember her, said Beth.

Although I understand the necessity, I’m glad this charade is over. Pretending that I’m old for the last three months has been difficult and a little boring. I’ll enjoy being back to my regular activity, commented Lucinda.

We don’t want to call attention to ourselves. It looks suspicious when women in their 90’s are still jogging and hiking along the coast trail. This elaborate scheme to make it seem as if we’ve died has worked well over the last five hundred years or so, said Francesca. I understand that you’re going to transfer to the botanical research facility in Brazil.

Yes. I have a lot planned for the next 50 years or so. We’ve made a little progress in developing an herbal extract to improve our powers, but there’s still much to be done. Fortunately the vermiliad compound my lab isolated recently looks as if it may be a breakthrough in breast cancer therapy. It’s now in clinical trials. I’m ready to return to my research team. They already have our laboratory set up in Brazil.

Remember to be cautious about your identity, Lucinda, said Francesca with a slightly stern tone in her voice. The time close to your supposed death is the most dangerous for discovery.

You worry too much, Francesca. Perhaps I’ve been a little cavalier in the past, but I want this change to go smoothly. Then I’ll be happily sequestered in my laboratory talking to my plants and out of harm’s way.

Right, said Beth. We know you better than that Lucinda. You’ll be leading teams into the Amazon basin looking for new specimens before very long.

Well, there are still some isolated areas that I would like to explore and adequately document the flora, replied Lucinda. Francesca, it’s unusual for you to leave Scotland for a trip to the states. I have to assume you didn’t come just for my funeral party.

I also have some family business. Harold, Sonja and I will be going from here to Las Vegas to contact my great granddaughter, Sara. She’s transitioning and there are some potential complications.

We’re almost there, ladies, said the mortician. We’d better cover you back up, Lucinda.

They pulled into the drive of the funeral home and backed into the entry bay. The driver got out and helped his partner move the body into the morgue. Once inside, they removed the straps holding Lucinda and pulled back the covers.

Your clothes, a wig, a new driver’s license and passport, and some makeup are in the dressing room. Get dressed and we’ll leave in a few minutes from the front door. Harold is waiting with the car to drive us to Napa. The guest room is ready for you, said Beth. I’ve also organized a funeral feast with Roderer champagne, your favorite. It isn’t very often you get to celebrate your own death. We might as well enjoy it.

Hello, Lucinda. You look really great for being dead, said Harold as the three women got into the car.

OK. Enough with the jokes, already. If you aren’t good, Harold, I won’t invite you to my funeral feast.

Objection noted. I’ll pay attention since a decent meal and champagne are at risk. It’s about two hours to the house in Napa. Weather is calm. It should be a nice drive.

The car went a short distance along the coast south and then turned east toward Napa. All three women were lulled to sleep by the rocking motion of the car as Harold expertly took the multiple hairpin turns across the hills and then southeast. Farmland and woods turned to vineyards and fruit orchards as they neared their destination.

They entered the gate of an exclusive resort and wound their way around the golf course and bungalows and up the hills to a large private residence surrounded by wide porches. Harold pulled to the back and parked.

Ladies, your flight has landed. You can unbuckle your seatbelts.

Francesca, Beth and Lucinda stretched and then gracefully slid out of the car and went in the back door which had been opened by a lithe, muscular, almost cat-like woman whose silver streaked black hair had been pulled into a tight chignon. The house was dark. But as they walked through the door, lights popped on to reveal a crowd of formally dressed people with raised champagne glasses. Several women stepped forward to put a champagne glass into the hands of each of the four new arrivals.

To Lucinda! said a tall woman dressed in emerald green velvet. May your next half a century be as much fun as your last.

To Lucinda! repeated the group.

To me! said Lucinda as she took a sip of the champagne allowing the tiny bubbles to tickle her palate as they descended down the back of her throat. May dying always be this much fun.

A Primer for Novices

For the women of SilverShadows menopause isn’t just another stage of life.

Their falling hormones show them who they were destined to be.

The origins of SilverShadows are still not completely understood. Although our scientists and archaeologists have diligently searched for answers to these questions for hundreds of years, we are still frustrated by only partial success. Recent genetic research has given us more specific information about how our powers are physically transferred from one generation to the next.

Our abilities are genetically transmitted only from the female line. The genes that make us different are carried in mitochondrial DNA which is normally passed to the embryo through the egg. These genes are silent in the women of SilverShadows until menopause. The gradual fall in estrogen activates additional mitochondrial genes which change our cells and give us abilities which far exceed other women. Our view of the world shifts. We can interact with nature and our environment in totally different ways. The physical changes are easier to describe and understand than our more subtle, spiritual evolution.

The males in our group also inherit mitochondrial DNA from their mothers. Because of interaction with testosterone, they don’t have the same experiences as their female counterparts. However, these men are intelligent, physically strong, healthy, and lucky especially as they age.

After menopause, a woman may share her identity with her husband or significant other, if she desires and the order approves. Several men teach at the motherhouse, and many participate as field operative team members. We don’t discriminate according to sex, but usually the members of the Council of Nine are women.

The skills we develop vary from one clan or family group to another. Many of our new abilities seem to be related to de-repression of animal traits that are usually suppressed in humans. We may hear better, see better and develop a very acute sixth sense about impending events. Particularly prominent for some women is a new intense type of smell which can be overpowering if not properly controlled. Our reflexes are faster. Movement seems more effortless. We have more access to our innate intelligence. Some of us can cure disease and restore health by touch. Although there are certain generalities that affect us all, every woman’s experience is different and must be nurtured in her own unique way. We often work as teams with members who have diverse and complimentary powers.

The women of SilverShadows have a close relationship with animals. Their animal companions become even more important to them as their powers mature with age. Some of us can communicate with animals by touch and a few of us by thought. We can sense their feelings and share the primitive, animal energy that is part of their psyche. A senior SilverShadow operative may work alone on a project, in combination with other humans or in special instances with an animal partner.

The writings of the ancient elders teach us that we weren’t given our special abilities until we were older for a reason. We arrive at menopause with wisdom that has developed from our many other life experiences. Motherhood, education, careers, relationships…. have provided us a foundation upon which to build our new identities. We have been given awesome gifts and difficult responsibilities. As you will discover, not all the women with these powers use them for good. Part of our resources and combined talents must be directed to control those who would use their abilities for evil.

It is disturbing for novices when they begin experiencing their new abilities. Fortunately the change is gradual. We monitor the women that we know have a high chance of carrying significant amounts of SilverShadow’s genetic traits, but we don’t contact them until they begin to have menopausal changes. They have normal and usually very successful lives before menopause. At the right time, one of us meets with them and explains their heritage and their possible future.

Some women, who qualify, choose not to enter our group. Freedom of choice is an important part of our philosophy. The only requirements are secrecy and to not use their abilities for evil. The transition to a new life can be very complicated. Women who decide to have children later in life may still have significant parenting responsibilities at the time of menopause. Sometimes a life mate may not be able to understand or accept the changes in their partner. For many reasons, a woman of SilverShadows may decide to delay participation in training or cooperation with our order. Some never join us. Others are compelled by their life circumstances and the intense, rapid changes they are experiencing to immediately undergo initiation and training.

We have medications which can suppress some of the changes of SilverShasows if a woman requests treatment. Sadly, a few of our novices are overwhelmed by their new experiences and cannot control their powers. They may require long term, intensive therapy and medication to restore them to health. Sometimes those who successfully regain their strength after this adversity become our strongest and most influential members.

To optimally use their talents, women often live for several years at our motherhouse in Scotland. Our teachers can help them intensify and control the genetic differences they have inherited. The motherhouse which has been our head quarters for over 500 years has an extensive library, computer center, scientific laboratories and a sophisticated central communication system. Here the elders and Council of Nine coordinate all of the activities of SilverShadows. The entire living environment is designed to foster rest, meditation, and creativity. Although we have other resource centers where we congregate around the world, we all return from time to time to Scotland to re-connect with our sisters and recharge our batteries in an environment of safety, positive energy and relaxation.

Some of you may criticize us for our policy of secrecy. However, history has shown us that secrecy is absolutely necessary. Even in the current age of increased tolerance for differences, there are many who would fear and even persecute us. We have been called witches, demons, and even worse. Some of us have been burned at the stake, tortured or buried alive though we were trying to use our powers for good. Others of us have been revered as medicine women, healers, political leaders and even saints. Most of us will remain unknown to history except for the secret archives of our sisters.

We have the luxury of knowing that we really do get better as we get older. Our genes prolong our lives if we are not killed by violence. It is not unusual for the most talented of our order to live productive lives in excellent health over 150 years. Our powers intensify as we age, and we learn better how to control and refine them. Eventually all of us begin to weaken physically even though our mental abilities remain. We can choose the time and manner of our death. Some of the most powerful women of SilverShadows not only evolve when they die, but are also able to transfer some of their essence to another.

But, then, I am getting ahead of myself. There is much for you to understand about our history and how you can develop and control your abilities to make yourself the best you can be. The changes of menopause are only the beginning of your path. There are many things you will learn and perhaps inherit in the fullness of time. The mysteries of SilverShadows continue to evolve and we hope you will decide to travel on this journey with us.

Sonja

Mistress of Novices

May all your shadows be silver

Chapter I

And So It Begins

Sara felt Rusty starting the slow leisurely stretching moves that meant he was beginning to wake up. She never set an alarm clock. Between the two of them they always managed to be up near dawn. There was a special energy about the world just before the rising of the sun. Sara liked to take advantage of that time to exercise, meditate and organize herself for the day. If she had to rush and skip this part of her routine, she never felt the day went quite as well as it might have.

Rusty was curled next to her. He turned his head, opened his eyes, and moved up to put his head on her pillow. They had the same morning ritual everyday. He made little, sentimental grunting noises as Sara stroked his back. She made similar noises back to him.

I’m glad no one hears this but us, she thought. They would probably think I was crazy.

Rusty reached over and kissed her, obviously delighted with the idea of another day chasing balls, running circles in the backyard, and napping while Sara worked. He flipped on his back and started rolling back and forth. Suddenly satisfied with his morning wake up, Rusty jumped off the bed and looked impatiently at Sara to follow.

All right. I’m coming. No one ever told Jack Russells about sleeping in, I guess. Besides we both are going to have a big day. Did I tell you that you’re going to sleep over at Rita’s for a couple of days?

Rusty looked excited. Sara thought he might really understand what she had said. He liked Rita and her dog, Lucy. They would play together for hours before both of them got tired enough to take a nap. Rita and Sara took turns keeping each other’s dogs when one of them went out of town.

Sara brushed her teeth and slipped on a cotton tee shirt, drawstring pants and sandals. She walked out onto the back deck of the house where the light was just beginning to change with the close approach of dawn. There was a crisp, yet musty smell in the air like newly turned dirt. Rusty started his usual sweep of the back courtyard checking and appropriately marking the bushes and flower pots. Then he jumped up on the swing to wait for Sara. She was slowing moving through her Tai Chi morning routine. Each individual movement flowed effortlessly. Sara felt strong. No exercise had ever been as good for her as movement meditation.

After her Tai Chi, Sara and Rusty took a quick stroll down the back path to watch the sun rise and returned to the house for breakfast. She put on the water for tea and slightly heated Rusty’s breakfast in the microwave.

Oh yes. You aren’t spoiled. How many dogs get boiled turkey breast and special diet dog food for breakfast? With all of your allergies, I’m glad you ended up at my house. Most people wouldn’t put up with you, Sara teased.

Rusty looked oblivious to her comments. He wagged his tail and waited in great anticipation for his breakfast. For her own breakfast, Sara fixed whole grain toast, peeled a nectarine and spooned plain yogurt with a few walnuts into a cereal bowl. As the tea steeped, she noted with some satisfaction