Biding Time- the Chestnut Covin

by E W Barnes

“I only wish we could do more,” Mr. Quill answered fervently. Then he gestured to the crowd milling in the living room. “Enjoy your evening,” he said and turned to the group coming up behind them.

  “Does he seem familiar to you?” Sharon asked Caelen as they followed Rose down the steps into a sunken living area.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Caelen answered.

  Rose stopped next to an indoor fountain - a large column of concrete spilling water into a rectangular concrete pool.

  The edges of the pool were wide enough to sit on, but Rose remained standing. On the other side of the room a hanging fireplace counterpointed the water feature, blue flames licking blood red lava rocks.

  “The splashing water will help us not be easily overheard,” Rose explained. “Agent Winters, you can get us drinks. Then we will circulate, listening and watching for anachronisms. If you discover one, do not attempt to correct it. Report back here and we will decide how to act. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Commander,” Caelen said. Sharon nodded.

  Soon Caelen returned with three glasses of champagne. Rose dropped a small tablet into each and watched them dissolve. “To neutralize the alcohol,” she explained to Sharon. “Just keep getting this glass refilled and the neutralizer will keep working.”

  She raised her glass in salute and then left them to join a small group nearby.

  “Come on,” Caelen said, leading the way around groups of people. Sharon caught snatches of conversations as they passed.

  “It's been six months since President Kennedy blockaded Cuba,” a man was saying. “The Communists can’t take care of their own people, that’s why we must offer humanitarian aid.”

  “And we want the Cuban people to know they can rely on Americans for support, not the Soviets,” another man replied.

  They moved past that group and towards another.

  “I can’t believe she died… and so soon after singing for the president’s birthday. It is such as shame, she was so beautiful…”

  Then another.

  “… well the Supreme Court ordered that cities and states can’t segregate public transportation… that and things like Jackie Robinson’s induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame, things should change.”

  “Not when places like New Orleans are offering free bus tickets to Negroes to move up north…”

  And another.

  “Campbell’s soup cans. That’s all they were! Paintings of Campbell’s soup cans. How is that art?”

  Then another.

  “This problem with Cuba is a big deal, no doubt, but mark my words the real trial is coming in Vietnam.”

  They stepped outside on a broad patio, set up with small tables. A trio was playing off to one side, and couples were dancing under white string lights.

  “Shall we dance?” Caelen said, offering his hand.

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Neither do I.”

  They shared a grin and then got down to the serious business of not stepping on each other’s toes. Eventually Sharon relaxed enough to listen to the music. It was a romantic old song by Ray Charles - at least it was old to her. Here it was probably brand new. She felt like she was in a movie.

  A few days ago - weeks ago? or would it be next week? – she agreed to time travel with Caelen even though she did not trust him. Now they were holding each other, turning on a dance floor. Was it his fighting off the mugger? His charming LSD trip? Or Rose’s – her grandmother’s – obvious respect for him. She wasn’t sure when the trust had happened, but she was glad that it had.

  “May I cut in?”

  A young man was smiling at Sharon holding his hand out to take hers. She glanced at Caelen who shrugged.

  “Uh, sure,” she said, taking the young man’s hand. He placed his hand on her hip. Sharon put her hand in his and did her best to follow along.

  “I am George Parker,” he said. He seemed to sense her inexperience and deftly guided them around the dance.

  "Sharon. Sharon Gorse.”

  “Of the Alexandria Gorses?” he asked.

  “Oh, um, no, not that Gorse family.”

  When she did not volunteer any additional information, he talked about his life, his family, and his interests. George Parker was as comfortable leading a conversation as he was dancing.

  “We think maybe when this blockade is over, and the Communists leave Cuba, my family can set up manufacturing facilities on the island, allowing us to expand production and giving the locals stable jobs,” he was explaining as the music paused.

  “That sounds like a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Sharon said. “Would you please excuse me? I need to freshen up.”

  “Of course,” he said as he kissed her hand. “I hope I might have the pleasure of another dance.”

  Sharon looked around. Caelen had taken a seat at a table, surrounded by enthusiastic young men talking about a new baseball stadium that had just opened. He caught her eye, smiled, nodded, and then focused on the conversation again.

  ◆◆◆

  The spot by the fountain was empty. She did not see Rose. She made her way to where she thought a bathroom might be and joined the end of the inevitable line of women waiting.

  “There’s another bathroom on the other side of the house,” the voice of George Parker said behind her.

  She and two other women followed him into the master bedroom. “There,” he said, grandly gesturing.

  “Please go ahead,” she said to the women who had been waiting longer than she had, starting a new line.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” George Parker said with a smile. “I’m looking forward to another dance.”

  The master bedroom was large, with a low ceiling and a king-sized bed in the room's center. There was a large painting hanging over the bed, an abstract landscape in blues, oranges, browns, and greens. Sharon couldn’t take her eyes off it. Carefully pulling out her phone, she took a picture of the painting.

  No other women seemed to be aware of the second bathroom and Sharon was still alone when the last woman emerged and left the master bedroom.

  Sharon closed the door, wrestled the long gloves from her hands and let cold water run over them. She closed her eyes, listening to the Ray Charles song replaying in her mind.

  Male voices interrupted the quiet moment. She could smell a cigar.

  “We can give you the technology for solar power, more advanced than what you are using right now.”

  Sharon’s blood ran cold. It was Kevin’s voice.

  “Vhat do you vant for it?” the second voice spoke English with an accent. A Russian accent, Sharon realized. Kevin was offering the 1968 technology to the Soviets.

  “It is a gift,” a third voice said. “We want the right side to win.” It was Lloyd Quill’s voice. With a chill, Sharon realized she had heard his voice before, asking about the foreclosure proceedings on her grandparents’ house.

  “Da,” the Russian said. “You can deliver it now?”

  “We can deliver it now,” Kevin said and then the voices fell silent.

  Sharon listened, creeping closer to the door, but she could hear nothing. Did they leave the room? Or were they still completing the exchange? She knew she had to get out of the bathroom and report to Rose and Caelen, and how long should she wait?

  After waiting five minutes, she flushed the toilet and noisily ran the water, humming to herself off key. She pulled her gloves back on, tucked her clutch under her arm, and opened the door, running into the door frame as if she had imbibed too much champagne.

  There was no one in the room.

  She affected a stagger in case she was being watched and made her way to the fountain, sitting down hard to look like she had lost her balance. She scanned the room. Neither Rose nor Caelen were in sight. Trying not to feel anxiety, she stood unsteadily and circled the fountain.

  “There you are!” George Parker appeared at her side. “I am ready for that dance if you are,” he said holding out his elbow
. Sharon took it and he led her out to the patio. Sharon tried to see if Caelen was still at the table, but George kept stepping in her line of sight.

  Even though she was still acting tipsy, she danced a little better this time. She used their turns around the dance floor to scan the room, and she still did not see Caelen or Rose.

  “May I cut in?”

  “Certainly,” George Parker said graciously if reluctantly while taking a step back. Sharon looked up expecting to see Caelen.

  It was Kevin.

  “I hope I might have another dance before the end of the evening,” George said as he walked away, not seeing the look of alarm on her face.

  Kevin took her hand and placed his hand on her waist.

  “I know who you are,” he murmured as he leaned close, his friendly expression at odds with the menace in his voice as he guided them across the dance floor. “I saw you in 1968 and in 1980, and now you are here. You TPC agents are getting sloppy.”

  He stopped and smiled over her shoulder for a photographer who snapped a picture as they danced.

  “Where’s your partner, the one who can’t hold his LSD?” he asked chuckling maliciously. Sharon ignored him.

  “What were you doing in 1984? Delivering the fax machine specs?”

  “I would expect a TPC agent to be cleverer,” he said. “I delivered the specs as soon as I received them. The shift to 1984 was to confirm the mission was successful. A backstage pass at the Olympics was a bonus.”

  As he spoke, he circled them away from the crowd toward an isolated table in shadow on the edge of the patio. Lloyd was sitting there, leaning back, watching them with narrowed eyes, and occasionally taking a draw from a cigar which lit his face with a fiery glow before fading into darkness again.

  Kevin danced them to the table, and then held out a chair for her to sit, taking a position behind her as she faced Lloyd Quill.

  “I don’t recognize you, Agent…?”

  “Gorse, Agent Gorse,” Sharon answered thinking quickly.

  “And what’s your mission, Agent Gorse?”

  “To… to… correct an error in the timeline related to this event,” she stammered.

  “What error?”

  “We… uh… think it involves the blockade of Cuba and the Bay of Pigs crisis.”

  “The Bay of Pigs crisis, hm?”

  “Something to do with importing Cuban cigars…” she responded. Lloyd stared at her and then laughed.

  “Cuban cigars! My word, you are amusing my dear. Your fellow agents will miss your sparkling sense of humor, I am sure.” His laughter stopped, and he glanced up at Kevin and nodded. Kevin stood her up.

  “How about a nice walk in the woods?” he said.

  “Sharon! There you are!” Rose hurried up followed by Caelen, and when she saw Kevin she stopped, her mouth open, eyes wide.

  “Kevin! What are you doing here?”

  “Who are you?” he asked. Rose stared at him in shock, unable to speak. Lloyd stood up, his hand in his pocket.

  “A reunion. How lovely. And fortuitous. It appears we will rid ourselves of more than one agent tonight.” He gestured to a set of steps off the patio leading to a path that disappeared under the trees.

  “You three can walk ahead and we will follow behind, a nice little walk in the woods before the presentation about how much money we’ve raised this evening. It is too bad you will not be there to hear it - rest assured, it was a generous amount.”

  Rose nodded to Caelen, who shoved Kevin aside and took the lead down the steps next to Sharon with Rose behind them. Lloyd’s more deliberate pace followed Kevin’s heavy tread. They passed under the shadows of the trees, fireflies dancing around them, and the music from the patio fading away to the song of crickets.

  “This is far enough,” Lloyd said. He pulled the gun he had been holding from one pocket, and a silencer from another, mounting the silencer to the gun before handing it to Kevin.

  “I will leave this in your hands, Kevin. I must get back to the house for the presentation.” He handed what looked like a temporal amplifier remote control to Kevin.

  “When it's done, send the bodies whenever you like.”

  Lloyd walked away while Kevin pointed the gun at them. Sharon glanced at Caelen and found that he was staring at her intensely. Then he focused on Kevin.

  “You can’t do this,” he said. “Do you know who they are?”

  “Yes, I can do this, and I don’t care who they are.”

  “They are your future wife and granddaughter!” Caelen protested. “You can’t just kill them.”

  Kevin laughed an ugly laugh. “I don’t have a wife and I don’t want one! A family! What rot. Maybe they were my wife and granddaughter, but not in this timeline.”

  “You first, I think,” he said aiming the gun at Caelen.

  “No!” shouted Rose as Sharon activated the temporal amplifier remote control she had slipped out of her clutch.

  The fireflies zoomed at warp speed, their golden light turning blue as the cricket song became a whine. The world rippled around them. Sharon thought she heard a muffled shot.

  Then she was standing in her grandparents’ library, Rose and Caelen gasping next to her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The lingering scent of Lloyd’s cigar made Sharon retch. Lloyd and Kevin had been in this house a short while ago.

  “Where are we?” Rose asked.

  “In the library of Sharon’s grandparents’ home. I programmed the remote control for this place and time,” Caelen answered.

  “Why didn’t it bring Kevin with us,” Sharon asked, her voice shaking.

  “I programmed it for just the three of us when you handed it to me in the parlor, remember? I set my unit for three as well,” Rose said, pulling out another remote control from her pink clutch.

  “We need to get back to the safe house in 1962 to make our next shift. There’s no time to waste,” she said. She pushed the button, and the expected rippling didn’t happen. She pushed it again. Nothing.

  “What is wrong?” she asked herself. She looked at Caelen who shook his head.

  “We need to know what Kevin was doing there in 1962,” Rose said looking at the ceiling.

  “We need to know why your remote isn’t working,” Caelen answered.

  “No, we need to know what this is all about, and how to get back into the correct timeline,” Sharon said.

  Sharon eased herself to the floor, exhaustion overwhelming her. Rose and Caelen followed. They sat for a long time on the pine floor in their evening wear, not speaking.

  Sharon got up. It was uncomfortable on the floor in clothes not designed for sitting on the ground.

  “I'm going to change,” she said, kicking off the pumps.

  “All of my clothes are in 1962,” Rose answered in a flat voice.

  “Mine, too,” Caelen said.

  Sharon pulled her bag out of the crawlspace and rifled through it, finding extra clothes for Rose.

  “We’re going to have to buy you more,” she said to Caelen in a tired voice as she headed for the bathroom.

  ◆◆◆

  She spent a long time in the shower, letting the water wash her clean of shock and fear. When she turned off the water, she felt a lot better. She also felt hungry. She had been too nervous to eat at the gala and the cornmeal muffins offered by Richard were the last thing she’d eaten - hours ago to her body, decades earlier in the timeline.

  I should get food when I get new clothes for Caelen, she planned to say when she came out of the bathroom, but to her surprise Caelen had already changed and there were sandwiches waiting for her.

  “Caelen told me there was a store close by - I picked up some things,” Rose explained with a smile, inviting her to join them.

  She accepted a sandwich. She could hear shouting in the distance outside accompanied by dull thuds and thought maybe someone was building something in their garage. She took a bite. It was salami and cheese.

  Sharon spoke. �
��Where do we begin? Talking about Kevin’s trying to kill us or why Rose’s remote control didn’t work?”

  Rose blanched at the hardness in Sharon’s voice and hers trembled as she answered.

  “I thought I knew what we were trying to accomplish together, but after seeing Kevin in 1962 and how he is different, I know now I was wrong.”

  Sharon was surprised. Rose, who had been forceful to the point of arrogance in everything they had done so far, admitted a mistake. For the first time, Rose reminded Sharon of her grandmother.

  The shouting and thudding grew louder and then someone was banging on the front door of the house. Sharon, Rose, and Caelen froze.

  “It is now curfew,” a man shouted through the door, followed by three more bangs. “It is now curfew!”

  Then they heard the man shout again, farther away this time. He had moved to the house next door, banging on the door and shouting about the curfew. Caelen went to the window, moving the curtains only slightly, remaining hidden from sight.

  “There are two men moving through the neighborhood, along with two police cars monitoring them.”

  “Curfew?” Rose whispered. “What curfew?”

  “There is some kind of curfew at sundown in this timeline,” Sharon answered. “I don’t remember this town crier approach, do you?” she asked Caelen.

  He shook his head. “No, but maybe we have just not yet seen it.”

  After they ensured the doors and windows were locked, and the curtains and blinds were closed in every room, Caelen explained how the TCP had identified temporal fluctuations connected with Sharon and her grandparents and how he was sent back in time to investigate.

  Sharon told Rose about the message in the crawlspace, the strongbox with the articles, and information shared by Mrs. Bower.

  “May I see the articles?” Rose asked, and Sharon pulled them out of the crawlspace where they had remained hidden.

  Rose looked them over.

  “Your grandmother asked me to attend to the errors in 1962 and in 1940,” she said. “I didn’t know about these other ones. I also knew nothing of Kevin’s involvement in all of this.”

  Her voice cracked a little, and her expression did not change until she saw the article from 1933.