Time-Travel Duo

by James Paddock

  Nathaniel Bronson didn’t realize Anne had stopped talking and was looking at him. His mind was searching for the key to the words nuclear physics. He didn’t know what it was but the words triggered something he had heard not long before leaving Germany the last time. Translation! He needed to translate it to his native tongue. Nuclear. He spelled it several ways in his head.

  “Doc!”

  Something to do with molecular structure and...

  “Doctor Bronson?” Anne touched his arm.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Waring.” He suddenly realized where he was.

  “I thought I had lost you.”

  “I was deep in thought on your problem.” He stood up hastily. “I’ll look into it. Meanwhile, you just take it easy. Get plenty of rest. I’m sure you will be back to your old self in a day or two.”

  In the stairwell Nathaniel stopped in mid-step and thought again about what she said. The science of nuclear. It sounded important. He put his hands in his pockets as he continued on down the stairs and discovered, folded underneath the stethoscope, the envelope. He pulled it out, saw again the words, Anne Waring, and turned back up the stairs. He stepped into the Maternity Ward and then paused.

  “Is everything okay, Doctor Bronson?” Nurse Stephens stopped in her passing.

  “Yes, yes.” He turned to the door and then looked back at the nurse. “I was just thinking,” he said and stepped back into the stairwell.

  A feeling, a hunch.

  He put the envelope back in his pocket. Five minutes later he was in his car, heading home.

  Chapter 20

  Tuesday ~ July 20, 1943

  Nathaniel checked his image in the hall mirror, then stepped into der Beamte, his office room on the second floor, for one last check that everything was in order. The letter lay on his desk. He read it dozens of times trying to decipher its total meaning, trying to control his excitement over what he was sure it implied. He had to be careful though. Very careful. It was so unbelievable. But, what if? What if his conclusions from the content of the letter were true? And not just the letter. ‘Out of thin air,’ the Navy Chief had said. All her memories were of a future society, she told him. Space travel. Heart transplants.

  Suicide!

  Could that Navy kid, Brian Smithton, actually have guessed correctly that she is a time traveler?

  Unbelievable!

  But, what if? I could not only avenge my father and mother but also gain great favor with the Führer – keep him from committing a murderous act upon himself. He sat down and read it through again.

  Nuclear! That was the word that intrigued him. Where did she come from? What kind of machine brought her? What kind of machine is it that will take her back? Back to where? Can she be taken back? Then he caught himself actually believing that she was a time traveler, admitting to the implications of the letter. It is more than the letter though. The woman herself tells some kind of story, a mystery. She asked me if there was a form of amnesia that makes one have memory of a different time, like in the future. All those things she talked of, future things, amazing things. If she is what I think she is, why doesn’t she herself know? The letter indicated it was an accident. However it happened, she doesn’t know, and as long as she doesn’t, I am in the better position to take advantage of the situation. He folded the letter and placed it in its envelope. In the bottom drawer of the desk he pulled out the leather bag containing money, his passport and necessary travel documents. He added the envelope to the bag, and then picked up the bills that had been included with the letter. Three twenties, four fives and four ones. He started to slip the money into the bag next to the envelope, and then stopped. He counted it again. $84.00. He pulled the letter out once more.

  $79.00 this Steven had written. Not significant in itself. A simple mistake. But something else brought Bronson’s attention back to the bills. He spread them out on the desk. They were all well worn, except one. Bronson picked up the five-dollar-bill, and felt its crispness. Just new, he thought. He looked again at the letter. “$79.00... appropriate for the time...”

  Ten well-worn bills lay on the desk, totaling $79.00. “Appropriate for the time,” he said thoughtfully. He held the odd bill up to the light. He shook his head at himself, laid it aside then gathered up the other bills and the letter, placing them into the bag. He stuffed the odd bill into his pocket, retrieved his medical bag and white coat and went out the door, again being sure he locked behind himself.

  Dr. Bronson entered the hospital through the emergency entrance, dutifully checking to see if his assistance was needed before he went on up to what passed for his office on the second floor. He checked for messages, then went up to the third floor. He knew Mrs. Thigpen was released today – at his recommendation and at the urging of the nurses who wanted to get rid of her – and hoped no one else had been brought in to replace her. He wanted to talk privately with Mrs. Waring. He found her sitting in a chair reading a magazine, her sleeping infant cuddled in the crook of an arm. As he had hoped, she was otherwise alone.

  “How are you doing this evening, Mrs. Waring?” He pulled a chair from the other side of the room, to sit close to her.

  “I’m okay, physical health-wise anyway. Mentally, I’m still not sure.”

  “Have you been able to remember anything at all, an address, next of kin name, anything?” As with the sailors he dealt with each day, he knew how to ask just a few questions, be concerned and sympathetic, and then wait for them to open up. Develop trust and they would tell him anything.

  “Yes, of course. Like I said earlier, I can remember everything about my life but none of it makes sense. It’s like an entire other life, a different life. But...”

  “But what, Mrs. Waring?”

  “I would almost call it an alternate reality.”

  “A what?”

  “Just another term that probably hasn’t been invented yet. It means living in another dimension that is running parallel to this one. Strictly a theory of science fiction dreamers.” She stopped suddenly, shifting into thought, her focus somewhere in front of her.

  “What’s the matter?” Dr. Bronson took her hand.

  “Oh, ah, just something I said. It triggered a thought.” She went silent again for some time. Elizabeth Anne moved her arms and then resettled. Anne didn’t seem to take notice. “I said it hadn’t been invented yet, meaning I already know it will be invented, along with hundreds, no, thousands of things I could just list off.”

  “Like what? Give me some examples.”

  “No, I can’t. It’s all so crazy. You’d think I’m nuts and have me committed or something.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything of the sort, Mrs. Waring.”

  “Maybe not, Doctor, but it’s still crazy and I need to accept what I see and go on with my life.” She looked at her hand then rubbed her forehead. “Whatever that may be.”

  “Think of me as a therapist, instead of a medical doctor. Anything you say to me is confidential. Use me to bounce your thoughts off of. Maybe I can help you come up with the answers. You’re going to have a difficult time going on if you don’t know where you’ve been.” Nathaniel Bronson wanted to know everything Anne knew and it would have made him quite happy to just open her head and read her like a book. If she were indeed a true time traveler from the future, intelligent and well educated, she would prove to be a wealth of information. But she had to be treated carefully. With her knowledge he could rule the world.

  No! He thought. I really have no desire to rule the world. But I could guarantee my position at the right hand of the leader of the master race. I could help Hitler rule Europe.

  “I’m just not ready to share my crazy thoughts with anyone, even a therapist. I’ll keep what you said in mind because right now it appears I’ve no one else to talk to, no one else to trust.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, Mrs. Waring. Anytime you want to talk, you call for me.” He pulled a card from his pocket. “As a matter of fact, here is my home phone numb
er. That way you can get me twenty-four hours a day, even after you leave the hospital.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll probably be calling on you. But why are you taking such an interest in a certifiable woman like me?”

  He took hold of the hand holding the card he had just given her and laughed. “Mrs. Waring. Maybe you think you’re crazy and maybe others think so as well, but I believe there are real answers that make real sense. Lean on me and then think positively and we’ll find those answers.”

  “Okay.” She felt comforted by his sincerity. “First, I have to try and figure some of it out on my own.” She motioned to a stack of magazines and newspapers next to her chair. “The nurses have been good enough to bring me any reading material they could find. That’s keeping me quite busy.”

  Dr. Bronson stood. “Well, it’s time for me to finish my rounds. I’ll look in on you again before my shift is over.”

  “Thank you.”

  “By the way, do you have some idea where you’re going when you do leave us?”

  Anne looked at him for a long time before answering. “I have an offer from Ruth Lamric.”

  “Ruth Lamric?”

  “Officer Lamric’s mother.”

  Doctor Bronson considered that for a moment. “I’ll look in on you later.” He closed the door as he left. The sooner she could leave the better. But the hospital had rules and the earliest was still one more day, no matter what he said. And he couldn’t say much. He couldn’t appear overly interested in her.

  As Doctor Bronson walked down the hall, the words, ‘Appropriate for the time,’ again came to mind. What about money would make it appropriate for the time? A design change? He pulled the bill from his pocket and scanned it for something different. It was several seconds before he spotted it.

  The date!

  He folded the bill and quickly, stuffed it into his pocket and looked around. It felt like his every nerve ending was vibrating. It was certain. Mrs. Waring was a time traveler.

  After Doctor Bronson left, Anne felt herself again collapsing into the dark void, which she had been fighting so hard to stay away from. She had no family except Elizabeth Anne, no husband, no parents, no friends, and today it was made terribly apparent she had no home. She felt utterly homeless and hopeless.

  Chapter 21

  Wednesday ~ July 21, 1943

  “You’re spending too much time on this, James. I think you have a personal interest in her.”

  “It’s purely professional, Eddie.” James looked at his lifelong friend and fellow police officer and realized that Eddie probably knew him better then he knew himself. “She needs a friend. She has nobody, and we can find no record of the existence of those she remembers.”

  “Yeah, well, I think you’re getting too involved. You need to back away, James. She may not be everything she appears to be.”

  “You’re probably right, but that may be the very reason I shouldn’t back out. She is either a very good liar, or she has some form of amnesia and needs any friend she can get. And if she is lying, I consider it my job to find out why, and who she really is. I do have the backing from the chief you know. I mean, considering the circumstances, the way she just showed up. It’s war. There have been reports of possible spies in the country. And then the fact that the Navy has dropped it altogether says that somebody has got to stay with this until the questions are answered.”

  “Yeah, but just remember, James, she is married.”

  “Right, Eddie. Have you ever known me to do anything stupid?”

  Eddie looked back at his friend, smiled and said, “No, I guess you’re right. As a matter of fact you’re so right to the point of being boring. You would never do anything stupid.”

  Eddie and James were the best of friends. But in the last year about the only time they saw each other was as Eddie was coming on shift and James was going off. Even their days off didn’t coincide.

  “But, you’re also smitten with her. And smitten can lead someone as boring and stable as you into doing something stupid.”

  James punched Eddie on the shoulder. “Go to work, will ya?”

  “Sure. Just be careful, James.”

  It was early Wednesday morning. James went home, caught a couple of hours sleep, and then cleaned up and joined his mother for breakfast. He sat at the table, drinking coffee, consuming ham and eggs, and watching as his mother efficiently moved about the kitchen, humming the song she and his dad had called their song for so many years. He hadn’t seen her this happy in quite some time. Usually she was fussing over headlines in the paper, war news, or worrying about where Johnnie was. But this morning she was bright and cheerful, humming the melody to Beautiful Dreamer.

  “Are you sure this is all right, Mom?” He realized that was probably a dumb question to ask. The morning before she had yanked him out of bed and pushed him into the attic to pull down the handmade cradle. He didn’t know what Johnnie was going to say when he found out that Mom had totally rearranged and redecorated his room. She spent the entire day doing that and cleaning the house like she had never cleaned it before. You would think the president was coming.

  “Of course, James. It would be nice to have the sounds of a baby in the house again. Besides, where else is she going to go? I’ll take good care of her. Don’t worry about what neighbors and people think. She’s my guest, not yours, James. And you had better understand that.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Good! Want more ham? Won’t get another ration for a while when this is gone.”

  Before he could respond, she dropped another slab on his plate.

  Maggie was on duty up front when James arrived at the hospital. She was busy, so he went on up to the maternity ward.

  Nurse Stevens gave him a big smile. “Good morning Mr. Lamric. She’s ready to go and has been waiting on you. You can go on down.”

  When he stepped through the open door of Anne’s room, she was standing next to the bed with her back to him, rearranging things in the bag. Her hair hung to the middle of her back, lying perfectly against her blouse. Golden streaks flashed as she moved. He knew he should announce his presence but all he wanted to do was look at her. He realized it was the first time he had seen her in anything but a nightgown since the night he carried her into the hospital. Then she turned around so suddenly he wasn’t able to check the expression he was sure he had on his face. Her eyes robbed him of all further control and he was sure she was reading his mind, his every uncontrollable thought. She didn’t have to say, hi. Her greeting was all in her face.

  “Well,” she said, extending her arms straight out then dropping them to her side, “I’m ready to go.”

  James didn’t move. He stood in the doorway with his hat in his hands, unable to break the spell she had placed him under.

  “Mr. Lamric? Hey! You still on planet earth?”

  Suddenly realizing that the angel standing before him was speaking, he drew some saliva into his mouth to defeat the dryness. “Ah, I’m sorry... Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes, I’m ready to go.” Anne repeated.

  “Okay,” he said but he didn’t move. His eyes drifted to her waist. Her eyes followed his.

  “They’re a little tight,” she said with embarrassment, “I haven’t returned to my previous waist size yet. They look ridiculous. I’m sort of like a bag tied in the middle.”

  It wasn’t that the pants were too small that took James’ attention. He wasn’t accustomed to women being in pants. With the war going on and women taking over a lot of men’s jobs, sometimes they wore men’s pants but nothing like this. Nothing this pretty. He felt like it was a sin to look at her. Pretty was meant for dresses, not pants.

  Not knowing what to say, James stepped in and picked up the bag. “I’ll take this. You carry little Elizabeth.”

  “No you don’t!” Nurse Stephens ordered when she stepped through the door and saw Anne picking up Elizabeth Anne. “Hospital rules. Besides, once you leave, we may not get to see her
again so we get the last hold.” Anne obediently handed her over to the nurse.

  Anne hadn’t been off the third floor of the hospital since the night she arrived, and with windows blacked over she wasn’t able to look out. She had already braced herself for what she knew she was going to see. She read all the magazines and newspapers she could find so she knew what to expect, but when the elevator stopped, she didn’t want to get off. It’s safe up there, she thought. But she stepped off, more from being guided by James Lamric than of her own accord. He had his hand on her elbow. His touch felt very comforting. For his size, he was quite gentle.

  “You take really good care, Mrs. Waring.” Maggie declared as she came around the counter to peek at the baby. “If you need anything, or if you or this little one have any problems, you be sure to stop back.”

  Anne said she would and expressed her thanks. As they approached the door, she whispered up to James’ ear. “What about the bill?”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of it later.”

  Anne worried about it only until her attention was captured by the view out the open doors.

  “Wait while I bring the car around,” James said and rushed out the door.

  “Leaving without saying goodbye?”

  Anne turned to find Doctor Bronson striding toward her. “Mr. Lamric was early. I didn’t know where to find you.”

  He took her hand. “You’re an interesting person, Mrs. Waring. Please call me after you’re settled. We need to continue our talks. It will help you get back on your feet, so to speak.”

  “I will, Doctor.” His hand felt warm and comforting in a way Anne could not identify. “Give me a little time to try and figure things out on my own first.”

  “Certainly.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to be able to recommend a good pediatrician, would you?” Anne asked.

  “A what?” Bronson asked.