“The federal inspectors aren’t going to see it that way,” Emily replied. “I think you’ll want to shut operations down and ensure the safety of the facility first thing in the morning. They’ll want to see you in full emergency management mode when they arrive. It’s the best hope for the company.”
“Feds? No. There aren’t any federal inspectors involved. It was just our people. They’re all on board with me now.”
“Your new head of plant safety isn’t,” Emily said. “Shouldn’t you have consulted her first?”
Dom smiled and moved toward her. “Last I saw, my head of plant safety was three sheets to the wind and not wearing any pants. Just the way I like her . . .” He began to reach for her.
Emily lifted her leg and planted her boot on Dom’s belt buckle, keeping him at a distance. “I already spoke with them. The federal inspectors. They’ll be here in the morning.”
“What?” Dom backed up a step. “What are you talking about? You don’t even know what’s going on, and it’s the middle of the night. No agency is going to take your call right now. Not in this town.”
“You don’t understand, Dom. I’ve been to tomorrow. It’s done.” Emily stood and moved to the counter.
Dom studied her face. “You’re not making sense.”
“I just came back for one reason,” Emily said. “Because I think that there is still a chance for you. If you make the right decisions now, you can save yourself, and the company.”
“How much have you had to drink while I was gone?” Dom asked. “Why don’t we just forget about this conversation for now. We can head back to the bedroom and celebrate—” His eyes fell on the ring sitting next to the champagne bottle. He turned and appraised her more seriously. “What’s really going on here? You’re mad I left for the meeting? You think I should have stayed.”
“No, Dom. For once, this isn’t about me at all. It’s all about you. What’s best for you.”
“Emily, honey. Just tell me what you really want. You know I love you. I’d do anything for you. Anything.”
“I know, Dom. I don’t just believe you when you say that, I know it’s true. But if you love me, if you respect me, you’ll do this. You’ll shut the plant down tomorrow. You’ll spend the money and replace the defective rods. You’ll do the right thing. The company will have losses in the short term, but they are losses you’ll be able to live with. Gammatech will survive. And so will you.”
Dom picked up the ring and held it in his fingertips. “And you’ll stay?”
Emily picked up her jacket and strode toward the opening elevator.
“Emily?” Dom pivoted on his heel to follow her, incredulous.
When Emily stepped into the elevator and turned around, she finally addressed him calmly. “Goodbye, Dom. I know you won’t believe this right away, but I’m hoping you will one day.” The elevator doors began to close. “Trust that I know how this ends, and you’ll have a better future without me.”
10
When the public car pulled up to the curb in front of her building, Emily hesitated. But this time things looked correct. She could feel it.
She climbed out of the car and stared up at the starry sky. The clouds had cleared.
No. That wasn’t it. They hadn’t been made yet, like the rest of her future.
The automatic lighting illuminated her path as she climbed the steps to the front door. The fingerprint pad greeted her with its amber glow. She raised her thumb to press down and unlock the door, but hesitated.
“This is my house this time, right?” She turned around and faced the red-headed man who had appeared on the sidewalk.
“Do you want it to be?” Carson asked.
Emily smiled at him. “Are there other options?”
He was grinning back at her. “I can think of a few million or so. Universe is full of possibilities.” Carson’s grin slowly faded. “How did it go tonight?”
Emily put her hands in her jacket pockets. “Well, I was able to end an engagement and tender my resignation in the same night. So, I guess I get points for efficiency.”
“Sounds like good time management to me,” Carson said. “That’s a valuable skill.”
“You would know, I guess,” Emily said. “What’s next for you? More knight-in-shining-armor stuff? Another damsel in distress to save somewhere? Or is it some-when?”
Carson stared up at the stars for a moment. “I suppose there might be more out there, but I’ve been thinking I’d like to spend a little time working on my other skills too. Gotta keep things fresh. Don’t want life to get repetitive. I feel like it’s my duty to change things up.”
“That’s too bad,” Emily said. “I was kind of hoping you stopped by to make me some of those blueberry muffins. They smelled delicious.”
Carson rocked back and forth on his heels. “Hmm. It seems we’re at a difficult junction then. Past and future on the line once again. Whatever will we do?”
Emily studied his laughing blue eyes. Despite the chaos of her recent past and the mystery of her unknown future, the night seemed suddenly full of intriguing possibilities.
“I have eggs,” she offered. “How are you at making omelettes?”
Carson considered her, then smiled again. “You know, that’s a breakfast I’ve always wanted to master.” He climbed the steps to join her.
Emily smiled and unlocked the door.
In Times Like These
1
“Don’t assume that because you know something in the future won’t happen, that you can do nothing. Sometimes the reason it doesn’t happen is you.”
-Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 1997
I have far too much of my life in my arms to even think of reaching for my phone when it starts ringing in my pocket. I concentrate on getting the key in the lock. That and not dropping the shoes, water bottles and mail I’ve hauled to the door of my apartment. I get the door open with my free fingers and just make it inside when one of the water bottles escapes. The next moment, all but my useless junk mail is on the living room floor. I leave it there and open my phone the moment before it gives up on me.
“Hey, Carson. What’s up?”
“Dude. You coming to batting practice?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Just got home from work.”
“Okay, can you check the weather while you’re there?”
“No problem. Be there in a few.”
I toss my phone and the junk mail onto the couch and locate the remote in the cushions. The station is still on commercials, so I head for the kitchen. Depositing the remote on the counter, I turn to the refrigerator out of habit. It’s still just as sparse as the last time I checked. I settle for my one remaining bottle of water and head for the bedroom to change. The news broadcast comes on from around the corner.
“Welcome back to News Channel 8. In a few moments we’ll get your Drive Time Traffic and weather, but first, a look at today’s top stories.
“Today was the conclusion of the eight month trial of Elton Stenger, the man accused of murdering fourteen people in a series of vicious car bombings and shootings throughout the state of Florida. Judge Alan Waters ruled today that Stenger be convicted, and serve fourteen consecutive life sentences, a record number for the state of Florida. Stenger is being transported today into federal custody and will be tried in the state of New York for three additional murders.”
I pull my paycheck from my shorts pocket and lay it on the dresser. It’ll be gone in a week. Emptying the meager contents of my wallet out next to the check, I extract enough cash for a couple of post-game beers. Minimal celebrating is still better than no celebrating.
“Today is a monumental day for St. Petersburg and the entire scientific community, as the St. Petersburg Temporal Studies Society gets set to test their latest particle accelerator, what they claim may be the world’s first time machine. They will attempt to launch a number of particles through time and space in their laboratory here in St. Petersburg toda
y.
“We have correspondent David Powers on the scene. David, what’s going on down there?”
I get into my athletic shorts and snag some socks. Where the hell did I put my uniform shirt? I cruise through the living room to head for my laundry closet.
“ . . . and while the potential applications of the experiment are yet to be determined, one thing is for certain, these researchers won’t be wasting any time. Back to you, Barbara.”
I glimpse the blonde woman grinning on screen with her co-anchor. “Next thing we know they’ll be rolling out a Delorean. Certainly a day to remember. Now we go to Carl Sims with our weather update.”
I know what it’s going to say. Hot. Chance of thunderstorms. This is Florida. I locate my wrinkled Hit Storm shirt in the laundry basket, and slide it over my head as I walk back around the corner to the TV. Just as expected, the little cloud and lightning symbol dominates the entire week.
When I arrive at the field, most of the team is already there. I spot Carson’s orange hair as he’s out on the mound throwing batting practice. As I step out of my car, the moist, sweet smell of clay and grass clippings makes my shoulders instantly relax. Each step I take toward the field helps the tension of my workday ebb away. Robbie is donning his cleats in the dugout as I walk up.
“Hey, man.” I throw my glove into the cubby beside his.
“What’s up, Ben? How’s it going?”
“Hoping we’re going to get to play this one,” I reply.
“Yeah me too, I’m going to forget how to swing a bat if we keep getting rained out.” Robbie stands and stretches his arms toward the roof of the dugout. My arms would reach it. At 5’8” Robbie’s come up short. What he lacks in height he makes up for in fitness. Despite his on again, off again cigarette habit, he can still out-sprint anyone on the team. His lean and muscular physique is contrasted by his relaxed demeanor; a constant state of ease that makes me feel like I’m rushing through life by comparison.
“Have we got enough people tonight? I know Nick said he was going to be out of town in Georgia or something like that.” I kick off my flip-flops and start pulling on a sock.
“Yeah, I think Blake’s going to second and Mike’s filling in at catcher. We should be good. There’s Blake now.” Robbie gestures with his head while he leans forward and stretches his arms behind his back.
Blake’s Jeep pulls into the space next to my truck. I’m happy I’m not the only one who has missed most of practice. Blake and I have a lot in common, including our propensity for arriving fashionably late. Blake’s my height, and while his hair borders on black compared to my brown, we occasionally get mistaken for brothers.
“You wanna throw?” Robbie asks, as I finish lacing up.
“Yeah.” I grab my glove and the two of us toss the ball along the sideline until Blake joins us.
“Is Mallory making it out to the game tonight?” I ask Blake as he lines up next to me.
He stretches his right arm across his chest and then switches to the other one. “I doubt it. She has to watch her niece and I don’t think she wants to bring her out.”
We never get many fans at our games. Blake’s girlfriend is the most frequent but even her appearances have gotten rare. I keep inviting people, but apparently Wednesday nights are more highly valued elsewhere. Can’t remember the last time a girlfriend of mine made it out to a game. Three seasons ago? Four? I suppose managing to keep one longer than a few months might help.
Carson pitches us each a bucket of softballs, and I knock the majority of mine toward an increasingly dark right field. We ignore the clouds as much as possible and concentrate on practice. Once everyone has hit, we mill around the dugout, stretching, while Carson gives me his appraisal of our chances.
“These guys should be cake for us. I watched them play last week. I think we’re going to crush ’em.”
I consider the big athletic guys filling the opposing dugout and realize that Carson might be overly optimistic, but I don’t argue. “We’re definitely due for a win.”
Carson starts jotting down the lineup. He’s full of energy today. I admire that about him. At twenty-five, he’s a little younger than me, but about a year older than Blake. He has no trouble organizing things like this. Sports are his arena. He’s naturally talented at all of them. I could outrun him. Blake could outswim us both, but Carson has everybody beat on all-around athleticism. He makes a great shortstop in any case. The other teams have learned to fear both his fielding abilities and his trash talking skills. Blake and I flank him on the field at second and third base respectively.
We walk out to our positions and are waiting for Robbie to throw the first pitch, when a thunderclap rumbles through the clouds. The umpire casts a quick glance skyward, but then yells, “Batter Up!”
I’m digging my cleats into the dirt at third when I notice my friend Francesca walking up from the parking lot. She catches my eye and sticks her tongue out at me before sitting down next to Paul, our designated hitter. I scowl at her and she laughs, and then turns to greet Paul. What do you know? We did manage a fan tonight.
The crack of the bat jerks my attention back to the game as the ground ball takes a bad hop a few feet in front of me and impacts me in the chest. It drops to the ground and I scramble to bare hand it, making the throw to first just a step ahead of the runner. I rub my chest as I walk back to my position. That’ll be a bruise tomorrow.
Robbie walks the next batter as I start to feel the first few drops of rain. The third batter grounds to Blake at second. He underhand tosses the ball to Carson who tags the base and hurls it to first for a double play, just as a bolt of lightning flashes beyond right field. Carson’s yell of success over the play is drowned out by the boom of thunder. I head for the dugout, hoping we’ll get a chance to hit, but as the outfielders come trotting in, they’re followed by a dense wall of rain. I step into the dugout before the heavy drops can soak me.
“Hey Fresca, What’s shakin’?” I plop down next to Francesca on the bench.
“I finally make it to one of your games and this is how you treat me?” She gestures to the sheets of rain now sweeping the field.
“I ordered you sunshine and double rainbows, but they must not have gotten the memo.”
“I was worried I was going to get arrested getting here, too. Did you see all those cop cars downtown?”
I think about it for a second, then remember the newscast. “It’s probably all that trial stuff going on.”
“Oh, right.” She turns to Blake as he sits down next to me and props his feet on the bucket of balls. “Hey, Blake.”
“Hey, Francesca. Thanks for coming.”
“Looks like I’ll be witnessing your drinking skills instead. Are you all heading to Ferg’s now?”
“I think we’re going to see if this passes first.” I watch the puddles building on the field.
Carson dashes back into the dugout from his conference with the umpires and drips all over the equipment as he explains the situation. “We’re on delay for now. They’re going to see how wet the field gets.”
I play along with his optimism. Most of our team has already gone to their cars to wait, but I’m not in any hurry to leave the company of my friends. I can tell that this storm isn’t likely to be over fast. Anyone with a few years of Florida weather experience gets to know the difference between a quick passing shower and a prolonged storm, and this one appears to be settling in for the evening. I’m bummed to not be playing for another week, but even rainout beers are better than being at work.
“I guess those guys don’t think it’s going to let up,” Robbie says, noting the opposing dugout clearing out.
Carson picks up his clipboard. “If it stops and they don’t have enough players to re-take the field, we win by forfeit.”
“I came here to play. I hate winning by forfeit,” Robbie grumbles.
“What’s new with you, Blake?” Francesca steers the conversation away from our glum prospects.
&nbs
p; “Did Ben not tell you the news yet?”
“No, he’s obviously slacking in the gossip department. What’s your news?”
Blake looks at me. “Should I show it to her?”
“You have it with you?”
“Yeah, it’s in my Jeep.”
“What is it?” Francesca’s curiosity is piqued.
“Be right back.” Blake gets up, walks past Carson, who is in deep concentration over the stats sheet, and dashes into the rain toward the parking lot.
“What’s he got?” Francesca brushes a strand of dark hair out of her eyes.
“It’s pretty impressive.” I grab my flip-flops out of the overhead cubbies and start changing out of my cleats.
A minute later, Blake dashes back into the dugout holding a plastic bag. He sits next to Francesca and unwraps the package, revealing a jewelry box.
“Oh for Mallory?” Francesca exclaims. Blake pries open the lid and displays the diamond ring inside. “Ooh, you did good Blake!” Francesca takes the box and looks adoringly at the ring.
“Well it’s time,” he replies.
“How long have you two been dating now? Four years?” Carson’s interest in the statistics sheet is waning.
“Yeah, I wanted to wait till she finished grad school, but now that she’s almost done, we’re taking the leap.”
“That’s awesome, man.” Robbie pats Blake on the shoulder.
We pass the ring box around, admiring it as the rain beats down on the dugout. Under the bright lights of the baseball diamond, the ring sparkles even more than the last time I saw it. Mallory’s going to love it. I need to find a ring like that. I need to find a girl like that.
I close the ring box and pass it on to Robbie. As I do, an exceptionally bright lightning bolt sears across the sky and hits what can only be a few blocks away. The thunderclap is deafening and immediate. The bench is a symphony of expletives and Francesca clenches my arm and pulls herself against me.
“Holy shit that was close!” Robbie says.
In Times Like These Boxed Set Page 7
