All My Tomorrows

by Karen D. Badger

  "My intentions, Jordan, are to do whatever is humanly possible to get my daughter out of that wheelchair. I watched you walk back and forth across the conference room when you gave your presentation earlier this week. Now, you're sitting here in front of me, with full range of motion and absolutely no telltale sign that there is anything wrong with you. If you are speaking the truth and you are indeed the test subject you mentioned in your presentation, then I want that device, and I am willing to pay any price to get it."

  "Did you read the terms and conditions I included in my proposal?" Jordan asked.

  Chuck sat back in his chair. "I did."

  "And—?"

  "And I am prepared to meet every one. The funding is not a problem. As I'm sure you know, I have access to the kind of money required to bring this device to market… that, and more if necessary. I am willing to double the salary you asked for, and IP ownership of the device is yours. I will even have my lawyers draft the patent application for you."

  Jordan maintained eye contact with Chuck while he spoke. "And the identity issue?" she said.

  "That one, I need a little help understanding," Chuck said.

  "It's actually pretty simple. I have no way of proving who I am. I have no birth certificate, no social security number and no access to my educational and medical records. Because of that, I can't get a driver's license and I can't get a credit card. I can't even marry the woman I love. Don't get me wrong, Chuck, I'm no slouch. I'm not running from the law and I have no reason to hide other than my inability to prove who I am. I need you to help me establish an identity so I can live life normally."

  "Are you an illegal, Jordan?"

  "No, I am not. I was born right here in Vermont. I grew up on a farm here in Shelburne. I was educated in one of the finest medical universities this country has to offer… and I can't prove any of it."

  "Why? Why can't you prove it?"

  Jordan took a deep breath. Can I trust this guy? she thought. She looked down at her hands in her lap then raised her eyes to look into Chuck's face. "Because the records don't exist yet."

  Chuck narrowed his eyes at her. "They don't exist yet?"

  "That's right, and that's all I'm going to say on the matter for now."

  Chuck got up from his chair and walked back and forth across the kitchen, one hand on his hip and the other running over the stubble on his chin. Finally, he stopped in front of Jordan and placed both hands on his hips.

  "I'm willing to work with you on this, Jordan, but before I commit to doing something that just might be illegal, I need you to prove to me that you're telling the truth about this device. It's a lot of money and a lot of risk on my part to enter into this contract blind."

  "Fair enough," Jordan said. She rose to her feet. "I'll be right back. I'd like Maggie here for this."

  "Of course," Chuck said.

  Jordan returned several minutes later with Maggie in tow. Chuck rose to his feet when they entered the kitchen.

  "What's this all about?" Maggie asked.

  "Maggie, Chuck has offered to set up a private foundation to bring the device to market. He's agreed to all of the terms, including resolving my identity problem, but he's asked for proof that I am who I say I am. I know of only one way to do that, and I thought it might be prudent to have you here."

  "I see," Maggie said.

  "Chuck, please sit. I owe you some background information before I divulge the proof you're asking for."

  "Why don't I make a pot of coffee? This might take some time," Maggie said.

  "Coffee would be wonderful, love. Thank you."

  "Chuck?" Maggie asked.

  "Yes, please," he said, never taking his eyes from Jordan.

  "Okay. I guess the best place to start is with my own accident. As I mentioned earlier, I was sixteen at the time. I had taken my horse for a ride and we stayed out longer than planned. It was nearly dusk before we headed back from the north pasture. As I rode, I kicked my horse into a gallop and soon, we were flying across the field. About halfway back to the house, my horse stepped into an old well that was covered over with rotted plywood and sod. I suddenly became airborne and landed in such a way that my spine was broken and my spinal cord completely severed at the L1 vertebra."

  "L1? That's exactly where Jessie's was severed," Chuck said.

  "Yes. Anyway, like I said, it was nearly dusk when we headed back and almost dark by the time the accident happened. I lay there on the cold, dew covered ground next to my dying horse for several hours before I lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital unable to move my legs. Unfortunately, my horse didn't make it."

  "That must have been so awful for you."

  "What was awful was spending the next fourteen years in a wheelchair. Believe me when I say, Chuck, that suddenly becoming the only handicapped kid in my high school was pretty traumatic. High school is hard enough on a normal kid. You can imagine what it was like for a kid with special needs. I mean, I had no feeling or control over anything below my waist. I constantly needed help reaching things, and with no bladder control, I had to wear catheters and carry around this bag of urine all the time. It was a nightmare. It was experiences like that which contributed to my decision to become a scientist in the spinal cord injury field."

  Maggie put creamer and sugar on the table then carried two cups of coffee to Chuck and Jordan. Jordan detained her with a hand on her arm. "Thank you, my love," she said.

  Maggie spontaneously kissed her. "You're welcome."

  Chuck sipped his coffee as he watched the tender scene. "Great coffee, Maggie. Thank you," he said.

  Maggie returned to the counter and poured herself a cup then joined them at the table.

  "Where did you go to school?" Chuck asked.

  "Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, and before you waste your time, you won't find any records or transcripts on me there. I graduated in the top one-percent of my class with a degree in kinesiology and specialization in spinal cord injury treatments."

  "So how did you go from being in a wheelchair to walking around like your injury never occurred?" Chuck asked.

  "After I graduated from medical school, I joined an institute dedicated to the study of spinal cord injuries and potential cures. I was assigned to a project that was developing a device to restore mobility. I worked on it for several years and three years ago, volunteered to be the test subject. It was an uphill battle to convince them to accept me as the candidate because by that time, my injury was already fourteen years old. As I'm sure you know, Chuck, with traditional spinal cord injury treatments, the speed at which you treat it is critical to minimize cell death."

  "But they accepted you anyway," Chuck stated.

  "Yes, but not without a fight, and not without a lot of good people backing me up, including my roommate, Kale."

  Jordan suddenly sat back. "That's it!" she said. "That's who you remind me of, Kale. It's gotta be the hair. I used to tease him all the time about looking like a mad scientist."

  Chuck ran a hand through his hair. "Damned mop. There's not much I can do except keep it cut short, and as you can see, I'm overdue for a haircut."

  Jordan chuckled. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I didn't mean to tease you."

  "No problem. So, go on. You said three years ago they accepted you for the first device. Did it work right away?"

  "It did, although I needed to learn to walk again. After fourteen years in that chair, my brain lost all knowledge of how to put one foot in front of the other."

  "So the device cured you then?"

  "Not exactly. It gave me mobility, but I still had no feeling below my waist. I might have looked more normal, but I didn't feel normal."

  "You've said the word first a couple of times relative to the device. That implies there was more than one."

  "That's an astute observation, Chuck. Yes. There was a second device, designed not only to restore mobility, but over time, to restore feeling as well."

  "And did it res
tore feeling in you?" Chuck asked.

  Jordan reached across the table and took Maggie's hand in her own. She squeezed it and smiled. "Yes. Yes it did. It was a slow process, and I'm still not fully there, but it seems to be working toward the restoration of full sensation."

  "Jessie's doctors insist her spinal cord will never be healthy again and that she's destined to be in that chair for the rest of her life."

  "At this point in time, and with the knowledge that exists today, that is true."

  "But you said…"

  "I said, at this point in time."

  "So, how does it work? Your spinal cord was completely severed. How is it you can walk and have feeling below the injury site?"

  "That is information I can not share right now. It's not that I don't trust you, Chuck, but I need to know your offer to fund this research and development is legit."

  Chuck frowned. "Like I said, Jordan, I need proof. Your words and your apparent knowledge give me hope that some day Jessie will get out of that chair, but where's the proof before I pour millions of dollars into this project?"

  Jordan looked to Maggie. "Sweetheart, could you give me a hand with this?"

  Maggie got up and walked around the table to stand by Jordan's side.

  Chuck remained seated, intently focused on Jordan and Maggie.

  "Turn around, love," Maggie said.

  Jordan did as she was asked and turned her back to Chuck.

  Maggie pulled Jordan's shirt tail out of her jeans. "Okay, go ahead and unbutton and unzip your jeans."

  Again, Jordan followed Maggie's instructions, allowing Maggie to push the waistband of Jordan's jeans just below her hips.

  Chuck leaned in as Maggie raised Jordan's shirt, exposing her back from hip to shoulder blades.

  "For the love of God," Chuck said. "That scar has got to be nearly a foot long."

  Jordan reached back and touched the scar just above the small of her back. "The injury is right here. The scar is so long because of the required access to insert the device and all its trappings."

  "Trappings?" Chuck asked.

  "Yes. I will explain all of that in good time," Jordan said.

  "Give me your hand," Maggie said to Chuck.

  He extended his hand to Maggie.

  "Feel this," she said.

  Chuck's eyes grew large. "What the f—! It vibrates. What is it?"

  "It's all part of the device. Again, I will…"

  "You'll explain it all in good time," Chuck said for her.

  Jordan pulled the waist of her jeans back up and tucked her shirt in, then turned around as she fastened her belt. "Is that proof enough for you, Chuck?"

  Chuck stared at Jordan's face for several moments. "Who are you Jordan? Where do you come from? Better yet, when do you come from? They don't make things like this yet."

  "No, they don't. Not for another eighty years anyway," Jordan replied.

  "Will Jessie realize the same results as you?" he asked.

  "In theory — yes. In practice, we'll have to see how her body responds. Everyone is different, but I have confidence it will work just fine for her. She has an advantage I didn't have. Two, in fact."

  "What's that?"

  "First, she's sixteen years younger than I was when I got the device. Children often heal faster than adults. And second, her injury is only three years old, whereas, mine was fourteen years old. Like I said in the presentation, with the right scientists and the right funding, I think I can have the prototype developed in about a year, or maybe even sooner."

  Chuck looked at Maggie. "Maggie, do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"

  "Sure. Let me get it for you."

  Maggie returned a moment later and put the implements on the table in front of Chuck. Chuck slid them toward Jordan.

  "Please write your full name, your parent's names, where you were born and your date of birth on this piece of paper just the way you would see them on a birth certificate." Chuck pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I also need a picture of you."

  "I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Jordan said.

  "You can't have a passport without a picture, Jordan."

  Jordan looked at him for a long time, a play of emotions crossing her face.

  Chuck put his hand on Jordan's shoulder. "Jordan, I'm asking you to trust me. I promise no harm will come to you or Maggie. I'm not going to turn you into the police. I'm not going to report you to immigration. I need you to cure my daughter. Believe me when I say I will do nothing to jeopardize her chances of living a normal life. The sooner you feel secure in this environment, the sooner you can begin working on this device."

  CHAPTER 27

  Charles Malone stood before a room of scientists in white coats and waited for the hum of voices to quiet down before he began the meeting. Prominent among them was Dr. Robert Hollinbeck, sitting in the front row.

  "Good morning. Thank you for joining me on such short notice," he began. "As you know, my foundation has donated several million dollars to the Vermont Spinal Institute to develop treatment options for people with acute spinal injuries. You also know that nearly two weeks ago, we were presented with a new and novel approach to SCI treatment that claimed not only to restore mobility, but to actually cure the injury. Most of you were at the meeting and will recall the presentation."

  Chuck looked around the room and noted several of the scientists were avoiding eye contact with him while Hollinbeck in the front row sat with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face.

  "The presentation was given by Dr. Jordan Lewis. You would do well to remember that name, as she is about to become the leading expert nationwide in spinal cord injury rehabilitation."

  Hollinbeck stood up. "Where is this going, Malone?" he demanded.

  "I'm about to get to that, Dr. Hollinbeck," Chuck said. "You see, after this body of scientists rejected Dr. Lewis' proposal, I went to visit her at her home. It turns out that she herself, has a complete SCI at the L1 vertebrae." Chuck paused to watch the startled reaction spread through the room. "That's right. She is the human test subject she mentioned in her presentation."

  "But that's impossible," came a voice from the audience. "She seemed totally unimpaired."

  "That speaks volumes for the quality of her work, wouldn't you agree?" Chuck asked.

  "Was she able to substantiate her claim?" Dr. Hollinbeck asked.

  "Yes. She went so far as to show me the scar on her back and further produced evidence of the device beneath the surface of her skin." Chuck looked out over the room and saw regret on the faces of the scientists. "That said, I have come here today to inform you that the JEM Spinal Injury Research Association will no longer provide funds for the development efforts of this Spinal Institute. Instead, those funds will be redirected to a private foundation to be run by Dr. Lewis."

  Hollinbeck jumped to his fee. "You can't do that," he exclaimed.

  "Not only can I do that, Dr. Hollinbeck, but it is already done."

  "I will take this to the board of directors of the JEM Foundation, Malone. You won't get away with this."

  "Dr. Hollinbeck, I am the JEM Foundation. You see, JEM stands for Jessica Elizabeth Malone, and she just happens to be my thirteen-year-old daughter who has been confined to a wheelchair for the past three years with a complete SCI. Dr. Lewis took the time to research my foundation and to learn that little tidbit of information. Did you?"

  "You are the JEM foundation? How dare you withhold that information from us? Does Robinson know about this?" Hollinbeck said.

  "Dr. Hollinbeck, I recall you calling me, and I quote, the front man for some rich philanthropist, and not educated enough to voice my opinion on Dr. Lewis' presentation. Well, Dr. Hollinbeck, I am the rich philanthropist. You should be careful about who you treat with such disrespect and contempt. Not only do I find your attitude reprehensible, but your lack of progress and results is unacceptable. Effective immediately, the Spinal Institute will no longer receive funding from JEM. I will leave it
to you, Dr. Hollinbeck, to explain that to Mr. Robinson. That's all I have to say on the matter, gentlemen. Good day."

  * * *

  "Jordan, your phone is ringing," Maggie said from the living room.

  "Answer it, would you?" Jordan called from the kitchen.

  "Hello?"

  "Jordan? This is Chuck Malone."

  "Hi, Chuck. Actually, this is Maggie. Jordan went to the kitchen to refill our coffee cups. She'll be back in just a second or two."

  "Okay. Maggie, while we wait for Jordan, let me say what a pleasure it was meeting you and Jordan last week."

  "Thank you, Chuck. We enjoyed meeting you as well. Jordan couldn't stop talking about how much you remind her of her friend Kale."

  "That's a good thing, I hope."

  "Very good. She loves Kale very much. Oh, here she comes. It was nice talking to you Chuck."

  "You too, Maggie."

  Maggie accepted her coffee and handed the phone to Jordan. "Thank you, love. It's Chuck Malone," she said.

  "Hi, Chuck."

  "Jordan. How are you today?"

  "I'm fine, and you?"

  "I'm actually feeling quite good. I just had a meeting at the spinal institute this morning and informed them I'm pulling their funding in favor of yours."

  "Wow. You don't waste any time, do you?"

  "It seems I've wasted enough time on them already. Look, Jordan, do you mind if I come over this afternoon?"

  "Hold on, let me ask the boss." Jordan looked at Maggie. "Do we have anything planned for today, Mags?" she asked.

  Maggie put down the paper she was reading and shook her head no.

  "Looks like a go, Chuck. What time should we expect you?"

  "I have to make a stop at home first, so let's say in about an hour. Is that okay?"

  "Sure."

  "Okay, I'll see you soon."

  * * *

  Jordan and Maggie stood on the front porch and watched Chuck pull his SUV up to the front steps. He got out and circled around to the tailgate. "Hey ladies," he called out as he lifted the hatch.

  "What's he doing?" Maggie asked.