“Sam? You ready?” said another man who entered, and this one looked as though he might have played football for a Midwestern college team. His suit, also dark, looked a little too small.
“Just clearing the paperwork.” Sam’s fingertip brushed the device. He held it next to the corner of the casket then looked at it. “Preston, Robin Anne. DOB June 15, 1978.”
Her name seemed to burn in her ears. She looked around for Krampus but he wasn’t here.
The bigger man went through the same procedure with his own device. “Check. Scheduled for cremation.” He put his device into one of his jacket’s inside pockets. “Heard she was a CEO of some big company.”
Sam put his device in his own pocket. “That is correct.”
“Weren’t too many at the memorial. Maybe six or seven.”
That’s it? Only six or seven came to her memorial? Robin bit her lip so hard it hurt.
“That is also correct.” Sam took a position at one end of the casket.
“Kinda sad,” the other man said. “She wasn’t that old.” He went to the other end of the casket and released the wheel brake with his foot. Sam did the same on his end, and they started rolling the casket out of the room.
Not that old? What did that mean? How old was she in this future when this happened? And how had it happened?
“I hope people come to my service,” the bigger man said, checking to make sure his feet weren’t getting in the way of the wheels.
“Live well, and they will.”
“You’re like one of those—what do you call ’em—gurus.”
Sam chuckled as they got the casket through the doorway, and Robin lurched after them. “Wait,” she said, and she tried to grasp the side of the cart but stopped when she realized she could see the casket through her hand. “Oh, God.” But she tried anyway to stop them from wheeling the casket any farther. She might as well have been trying to stop an ocean liner with a canoe.
Where was Krampus? Was this it? He was going to leave her here?
She was plunged into darkness again. But this was different, because she heard Sam and the other man talking, voices muffled as if they were wrapped in cloth. Or—Robin tried to move and her shoulders bumped something solid on either side of her. Her fingers brushed fabric, and she tried to raise her arms above her head, but her hands hit another surface.
Oh, God. She was in the casket. “No,” she said, disbelieving. “Hey,” she shouted. “I’m in here. Guys. Let me out!” Robin sobbed and flailed, kicking as best she could and pounding against the sides with her fists. “Please,” she yelled. “Krampus! Please help me!” Her fists and feet ached from her efforts but she continued. Why didn’t anyone hear her? “Please!”
Was that heat? Was it getting warmer? “No,” she shouted. “Please get me out of here!”
And then she was falling, but she landed quickly on something soft. Carpeting. She thrashed, trying to free herself from the blanket—blanket? Robin stopped moving and assessed her new location. Home. She was home. This was her apartment, and she was lying on the floor next to the couch in her living room. Her television was on and the vertical blinds were open to morning light. She never opened those, but right now, she welcomed the light, and would hug it if she could.
Robin sat up, shaky, and examined her hands for bruising, but they were fine. “I’m okay,” she said, trying to convince herself that it was true. The blanket was wrapped around her legs, and she kicked it off and moved her feet around. They were fine, too. “I’m okay,” she repeated, not sure she believed it. Her phone sat on her coffee table, and she grabbed it and checked the time. Eight in the morning, Christmas Day. “I’m more than okay,” she announced. “I’m fucking alive.” She speed-dialed Frank, smiling so much it almost hurt.
“Hey,” he answered on the second ring. “What’s up?”
“Merry Christmas, Frankie.”
“Robin?”
She heard confusion in his tone. “Did I wake you up?” she asked. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. It’s just—wow. Kind of a surprise. Been a while since you did that.”
“I know. And I’m really sorry. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure I called—”
“Rob, is everything okay?”
“It’s fine.” She moved her fingers around, still trying to convince herself that she was all right, that her rings hadn’t somehow gotten dented or bruised her fingers. No marks. Nothing. “Actually, it’s more than fine.” So much better than fine.
“Seriously. Are you okay? Did something happen?”
She laughed. You have no idea. “Kind of. Listen, I would take you and Deb out to dinner in the next few days if I could, but since I’m a thousand miles away, I’m going to PayPal you some money, and you have to promise that you’ll take Deb and go somewhere nice, okay?”
“Uh—”
“Promise me, Frankie.”
“Okay, okay.” He laughed. “I promise. I know better than to turn down a dinner. Oh, thanks for the gift card. Deb and I were just talking about re-doing one of the bedrooms.”
“Great. Send me before, during, and after photos.”
“Jesus, Rob, what the hell’s gotten into you?”
“I’m not sure. But I like it. So work with me, here.” She opened all the other blinds and flooded her apartment with more light, and it seemed to burn away the residue the night before had left. Maybe it was burning a whole lot of residue away.
“I—damn,” Frank said. “You sound like your old self. Your old, back-in-the-day self. I really missed you.”
To her surprise, Robin’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “I’m trying to get some shit together. No guarantees, but I’m working on it.” She cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes. “So can I visit next month? Or February?”
“I would love that. It’ll have to be February, though. School’s cranking up and I’ve got a ton of stuff to get ready for. How about the third weekend?”
“Great. Let me know, and I’ll get a flight—wait. Run it by Deb, first, and let me know if it’s okay with her.”
“I’ll check right now. Hold on.”
Robin waited. She could hear Frank saying something and then Deb responded. They talked for a few more moments and then Frank addressed Robin.
“All clear for the third weekend in February.” He sounded excited.
“I’ll come in on Friday afternoon and be out of your hair Sunday evening. Don’t worry. I’ll rent a car and get a hotel.” The scene she’d witnessed between Frank and Deb was still fresh in her mind, and Robin didn’t want to put Deb in a position where she had to deal with Frank’s prodigal sister.
“What are you talking about? You can stay with us.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to impose.”
Frank didn’t respond for a few moments, and Robin heard him talking to Deb again. “Deb wants you to stay with us,” he said.
“We’ll figure it out closer to the time.” Robin watched watercraft on the river in the distance. She hadn’t cleared her schedule at work for this trip, but she didn’t care. She’d take a sick day if she had to. “Okay, I’ll let you go. It’s Christmas, after all. Figure out where you want to go to dinner with Deb.”
“Wait. We have some news.”
Robin smiled, hoping it was what she thought it might be. “What?”
“Well, um, you know how you told me once that you thought it would be weird for either of us to be parents?”
Her smile widened. “Yeah. But we were young. And it would’ve been weird then.”
He laughed, a mixture of nervous and giddy. “That’s true. But neither of us is that young anymore.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Robin played along, trying to coax it out of him.
“I might be. If you think I’m trying to tell you that Deb and I are
going to be parents, then yes.”
And even though Robin already knew, hearing him tell her made her heart swell. “Oh, my God. That’s the best news ever! When is—” she caught herself because she almost said “he”—“the baby due?”
“Mid-June.”
“Hell, yes. My birthday. That’s a smart baby.”
Frank laughed again. “We’ve been sort of holding off telling everybody until we’re sure things are on the right track.”
Robin accepted the fib for what it was—an attempt to connect. “How’s Deb holding up?”
“Pretty well. Some morning sickness, but so far, she feels good.”
Deb shouted something in the background.
“She says as soon as she starts feeling really sick, she’s going to give me a lot of hell for it.”
“I’ll back her up on that.” Robin closed her eyes and enjoyed the way the sunlight felt on her chest and face. “You’re going to be a dad,” she said. “Wow.”
“I know. I’m freaking out a little.”
“You’ll be the best dad ever.”
He didn’t say anything for a while.
“Frank?”
“Yeah. I’m here. I guess I’m a little worried, since we didn’t have good fathering in our lives. I don’t want to screw up, you know?”
“Parents always screw up.”
“You know what I mean.”
Robin turned around so the sun could warm her back. “Yeah. I do. But you know what not to do, now. You’ll see. You’ll be great at it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. And you’re going to be an aunt.”
“Yeah.” She thought about that, and about Travis as a teenager. No way was she going to miss the years before that. “I’m actually really excited about it. Do you know if the baby’s a girl or boy?”
“No. We want to be surprised.”
“Cool. So have you thought about names?”
“Sort of. Nothing for sure, yet. Every day is a step closer, and I want to get the baby’s room ready. It’s really cool that the gift card you sent was for a hardware store.”
Robin grinned. “Sometimes I get stuff right.”
“Yeah. Sometimes.” He laughed. “Okay, I have to go. Deb’s making breakfast.”
“Dude, you need to help a pregnant woman out. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Definitely. I’m so glad you called. Talk to you soon.”
“Yep. Bye.” Robin hung up and turned to stare out the window again. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped at it, surprised. Was this what insanity felt like? Or sanity? A mixture of raw and unformed, as if she herself had just emerged into the world, wide-eyed and new, uncallused and unscarred. Or maybe she was an explorer in her own life, preparing to blaze a new trail.
But before she did that, she needed coffee. Robin padded into the kitchen and put water on for her French press. As she took her jar of coffee beans out of the cabinet, something caught her eye on the counter next to the refrigerator. A business card, and in elegant raised engraver’s block letters, it read K Rampus, Christmas Future.
She didn’t touch it. Instead, as she waited for the water to heat, she sent money to Frank then texted Christmas greetings to Jill and several other people who no doubt would think she had lost her mind when they read her message. After the water was hot, she poured it into her press and texted a few more people while the coffee brewed. Cup in hand, she returned to the living room and stood in the sunlight pooling across the floor. She was alive. And this was a good day to draw, she decided, liking the way the morning light hit the distant bridges. A very good day to draw.
“My report, Agent Tolson.” He set the manila folder on her desk and stood back a step, clasping his hands in front. He preferred to create a hardcopy. Tolson allowed it, and he appreciated that. He also liked her office, which might have come out of a 1940s American movie set.
She looked at him over the frames of her eyeglasses. “Mr. Rampus,” she said by way of acknowledgement. She knew better than to use his true name too much, and he appreciated that, too. “I understand you unveiled.”
He nodded once.
“Not a usual procedure with an adult.”
“Most don’t know who I am, so there’s no need. Ms. Preston, however, did.”
Tolson rested one of her hands on the folder. She wore pale pink nail polish that matched her blouse. She always presented well. Understated yet classic. A look he himself favored in his own wardrobe when he affected a human persona. “How did she take it?” she asked.
“Fairly well. After the initial shock.” He offered a smile.
Tolson smiled back. “I’ve already watched the video. Nice choice of scenarios.”
“They seemed appropriate.”
“Entirely. Your assessment?”
“I understand why you wished to engage this case, madam.” He had little time for the foibles of humans, but he had been working with Tolson long enough to know that she had a soft spot, as Americans said, for cases like Robin Anne Preston. Curiously, he rather liked her, too. She had spirit.
Tolson took her glasses off and set them on her desk next to the file. “Is that your assessment?”
He inclined his head. “I concur with my colleagues with regard to this case.”
“Recommendations?”
“I included them in the file. You do realize that Ms. Preston may not accept the choices the Bureau would like her to make.” He had no investment in whether she did or not. He merely offered the statement as a possibility.
“According to all our calculations and projections, they are the ones that will provide her and others the greatest fulfillment and thus create the best kind of change.”
“I have no argument with that. But humans are quite maddening. I presume that this, too, has been taken into account.”
Tolson smiled. “We are indeed quite maddening. And sometimes, a nudge provides all the incentive necessary for a first step down a new path. Thank you, Mr. Rampus. I greatly appreciate your assistance in this matter. I know you had other duties, given the time of the year.”
“I am a superb multitasker, as you know. Until next time, Agent Tolson.” He half bowed and turned in a clean, precise motion and was across the room without taking a step. He shut the door quietly behind him.
CHAPTER 8
Robin got home around ten. She almost didn’t believe she’d accepted a last-minute dinner invitation from a few acquaintances and ended up having a good time. Maybe she was rediscovering this social life stuff. Her phone rang as she poured herself a glass of cold water. Jill’s name showed up in the ID. That was a nice end to what had turned out to be a great day.
“Hey,” Robin answered. “Off the slopes finally?”
“Hey back. For a while. I had some time and wanted to properly wish you a Merry Christmas Day.”
“Thanks. Merry Christmas to you. How’s Madison?”
“She is having a fabulous time with her dad, but she did make it a point to say that she missed me.”
“She hasn’t hit full-blown teen yet, I see.”
Jill laughed, and Robin remembered how much she loved Jill’s laugh. Rich and fun-filled, always genuine. It was one of the many things she’d missed when Jill left. She took a drink, trying not to think about the possibility that they might be together once again. She’d have to figure out what to do about that.
“Did you do anything fun today?” Jill asked.
If she told Jill what she’d been through, Jill would no doubt commit her to some sort of mental health facility. “A bit of drawing. Had some dinner with a few friends. Low-key but, yes, fun.”
“Drawing? Did I hear you right?”
“You did.” She looked at her fingertips. Once again, she thought she’d gotten all the charcoal off but maybe she hadn’t, since the light from
the nearby lamp indicated otherwise.
“I’m really glad to hear that.”
“Pretty sure none of it is ready for a showing.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just the fact that you’re doing it means something’s shifting.”
“I hope it’s in a good way,” Robin joked. She knew, though, that Jill was right. Something within was coming alive, and it sort of scared her because it had been so long since she’d felt anything like it, but she welcomed it, too. It fed something that had gone hungry too long.
“Definitely.”
“I do feel a little different.”
“You sound different.”
Robin laughed. “Well, it has been several years since we last talked.” She ran her finger down the side of her glass.
“No, it’s been three days or so.”
“And I sound different now than I did then?”
“Yes. Lighter. A little freer, maybe. I hope it continues. It’s a good vibe.”
Lighter. Maybe that was the descriptor Robin was looking for. “Oh, I talked to Frank this morning, and I was right. He’s going to be a dad.” She was still excited about it, and it must have carried through the phone because Jill offered a little whoop.
“Do they know the sex?”
“No. They’re going to try not to.”
“I didn’t want to know, and I’m glad I didn’t. Madison surprised me.”
“Did you already have names picked out?” Robin turned the light off in her kitchen and carried her glass into the living room where she turned those lights off, too, before she sank onto her couch.
“No. For some reason, her name came to me about an hour after she was born. Guess she let me know.”
Robin heard the smile in Jill’s voice, and she remembered when she’d asked her out for the first time over the phone, how nervous she’d been, and how Jill had said yes. The undercurrent of Jill’s smile in her voice then had both turned Robin on and made her feel grounded. She had that feeling now, but she had nowhere to put it, so she pushed it gently to the back of her mind.
“It’s a great name,” Robin said. “Kind of badass.”
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