Time-Travel Duo

by James Paddock

  He clicked back to June. The coming week was full, but after that there was nothing he couldn’t juggle into July, or cancel altogether for that matter. He could clear his schedule all the way to the end of the month. He picked up the phone to call the department secretary to check the schedule, just to be sure, and then remembered it was Saturday. He’d check in with her on Monday and if all looked well he’d book the flight for next weekend. That would give Annie plenty of her own time before he arrived. He’d spend a couple of weeks and then he’d be gone and she could finish up the summer by herself, or with her friend Patrick.

  He did hope they were just friends, but there was something in the way she said his name and then became defensive. She did insist that she was not ready for a relationship, though. A friendship or two certainly would do her some good; is doing her some good, from the sound in her voice. But a one-on-one friendship with a guy could too easily get out of control, no matter her intentions. Steven certainly knew what Patrick’s intentions were. Yes, getting there in time to get in the middle of it might be a very good idea, instead of waiting another month.

  He stood and paced for several minutes, considering the implications, the possibility that he could wind up losing her to a cowboy on the other side of the country. To hell with it, he thought, and returned to the computer. In ten minutes he had reservations on Delta Flight 2718. He’ll be there early Friday afternoon.

  Chapter 26

  June 9, 2007

  Robert Hair stood in the middle of the farmyard and watched first the truck with the illegal 8.5 million dollar trailer hanging off its tail, and then the brand new $350,000 motor home, disappear out the curving lane. The last, in his mind, had been a waste because no man wanted to share the bed with another man and though the two sofas folded out there was still one without a place to sleep. So they purchased a huge two-room tent, and then there was a fight over who would get rights to the tent. At that point Robert had walked away. It was his money financing this entire operation so the motor home, and thus the bedroom, were his. He refused to get involved in the squabble over the remaining beds. Should have just bought four tents.

  And then Robert remembered something Annie said the night they enticed her to the meeting; “I think you were playing with fire . . . with God’s fire.”

  Robert was not a believer though he had referenced God often in his lifetime. He was fairly certain that Annie was not a believer either, but she, like he, like many, used God’s name to make a point. In Robert’s mind God was not an all seeing, all-powerful entity Who smite sinners or caused floods and famine because He felt that humankind needed to be punished. His God, if he had a God at all, was time, or maybe it was space and time, or the massive physical universe, or the predictable physics of the universe. Maybe God was man himself, or man and Earth working against each other, or man and Earth and the universe, or just Earth and the universe conspiring to keep man confused, to keep man on his toes, or maybe it was nothing at all.

  Robert turned and looked into the dark, vacant hole in the barn where the lab stood only minutes before, took a deep, controlled breath, coughed twice and then put his hand to his chest as though it would settle the pain. The cough and the pain did recede and he thought of Rebecca and Chicago and the summer of 1961. He and two buddies, down from North Dakota for summer study at the University of Illinois, had gone to a nightclub, an opportunity to experience nightlife that Fargo didn’t enjoy. It was June, just after the summer solstice. They were sitting at a table, debating whether to stay with beer or try something more exotic, when three girls walked in. Three single girls and three single guys, and they gravitated to each other as though they were the last six people left on the planet. They pulled two tables together and hit it off immediately. The prettiest by far was the one who called herself Becky. Robert remembered knowing in those first few hours in that smoky, noisy nightclub that he had found the girl he would marry.

  And then a month later Becky brought him home to meet her parents, only to be surprised by her father’s attitude. As soon as he shook Robert’s hand and heard the name, Robert Hair, her father’s mood went dark and he launched into an interrogation into Robert’s education and aspirations just before kicking them both out, telling his daughter to never come back. It was twenty-six years before Robert met her father again and learned the incredible story and the reason for his action, but on that day in 1961 he was sure the man was crazy. With no place else to go Becky moved in with Robert, into the little apartment he shared with his buddies. When summer study was completed she went with him back to Fargo where they had a simple marriage ceremony with only his family in attendance. A week after the wedding Becky went to the doctor and confirmed that she was two months pregnant. Annabelle Carol was born March 20, 1962. His Becky, or Rebecca as he always called her, became the mother of Annabelle, the only child they would have, and he couldn’t have been more proud.

  Fourteen years later Rebecca was dead. Eleven years after that so was Annabelle, and he was left to live the remainder of his life alone.

  He coughed again and felt the shirt pocket where his pack of cigarettes always resided, like a close friend, those damned cigarettes that were killing him, though he hadn’t carried a pack nor smoked a cigarette in two years. All that was in the pocket now was the pack of gum he hated. He had refused the chemo because he needed the energy as long as possible and didn’t have the time to be tied down by a doctor’s schedule and all the side effects. He had seen what chemotherapy did to people and so often those with smoker’s cancer died anyway. Sure it might have extended his life a few months, or maybe even a year, but he’d never have gotten the project this far; his death would have been slow and miserable.

  Three weeks ago the doctors said two to six months. He felt fine, he repeatedly told himself, except for the occasional cough and the pain in his chest. He hadn’t started losing his energy yet, or at least not much of it. Just old age settling in, he thought, though he knew better. There was enough time to go back and keep Rebecca from walking down that street where the car jumped the curb and slammed her against the brick wall. The driver, a thirty-eight year old woman with five children under ten years old at home with the nanny, had suffered from a stroke, her foot planted firmly against the gas pedal of her ’75 Buick LeSabre. It was a freak accident that would also have taken Annabelle, or all three of them, except that Annabelle was sick that morning and Rebecca was angry at him. She’d awaken angry after they had a fight the night before so she had gone out alone while Robert stayed home with their daughter.

  He knew that the younger him in 1976 would never know what he was planning to do, anymore than his team did now. They all had a higher purpose, one he created in order to bring them together. Admittedly, it wasn’t a bad idea, as far as grand ideas go, but the risk was so high and the probability of success so low, it was hardly worth attempting. He certainly wasn’t planning on risking Annie’s life for it. Going back to 1976 and changing the course of the last thirty-one years had a low risk and a high probability of success; it was the drive of his motivation, his obsession.

  He thought of the cigarette again and then remembered that he didn’t become a heavy smoker until after Rebecca’s death. Maybe by saving her he would be saving his own thirty-one years later.

  He looked at the satphone still in his hand after they had tested them just before Howard and Thomas drove away. Though he had committed the number to memory, he used the speed dial and then listened as it connected through and began ringing. This was probably his twentieth attempt in the last five days. All the previous had been unsuccessful so he was surprised when he heard the familiar, “Hello?”

  Robert wasn’t prepared and started into a coughing spell. When he finally gained control and took several calming breaths, he said, “Sorry, Annie. Got a summer cold.”

  “You said that last time I talked to you, Grandfather. It’s sounding worse than a summer cold.”

  “Got caught in the rain last weekend,
” he said, “and caught a chill. I’ll be fine before you know it.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “I’ll be fine. You’re starting to sound like your mother. Always worried about me. A man can’t get any peace.”

  “You called me, remember. And the answer is still no. You’re proposing craziness.”

  “No, no. I’m just calling to see how you’re doing. Are you enjoying Glacier Park?”

  “Very much. I’m in the park right now. As a matter-of-fact I’m watching a flock of mountain goats, including a baby. He is so cute.”

  “A flock of goats? Are you sure they’re called a flock, not a herd”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Though there are only four. Is that enough for a flock?”

  “I have no idea, Annie.” He coughed again; two quick bursts.

  “You should definitely see a doctor, Grandfather.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I’ll do it on Monday.”

  “Good. What’s this number you called from? I don’t recognize it.”

  “New phone.”

  “I’ll save it and call you Monday night. Make sure you’ve been to the doctor.”

  “You don’t need to check up on me. I’ve been doing just fine taking care of myself for quite some time.”

  “You’re 66 years old,” Annie said. “Someone should be keeping an eye on you.”

  “Maybe I’m ancient to you, young lady, but I’m far from a nursing home.” But not far from the grave, he thought.

  “I know that. It’s just that you’ve never been good at going to doctors and this is a time I think you should.”

  “I said I would, all right!”

  “I’ll still call you Monday night.”

  “You do that. I’ll be looking forward to it.” There was a long silence, and then Robert said, “Well, I’ll let you go. It was good talking to you.”

  “You too. You take care. Love you, Grandfather.”

  “You, too.”

  Robert slipped the phone into his pocket and walked into the house. How did the call go astray, and why had he called her to begin with? It wasn’t to tell her he was going to be there in two days, and his entire lab and team in three. He didn’t want her to know until they were completely settled and powered up. Then he would send her a message with another set of coordinates and let her find him.

  Then what? How was he going to talk her into joining the team? If not to see her husband again, then what about meeting her mother? She could go there and actually talk to her. Annabelle wouldn’t know Annie as an adult. He had dates and times: Friday, November 12, 1943 when Annabelle sent baby Annie home; Sunday, November 14, 1943 when Annabelle was shot and managed to get herself sent home as well, only to die on arrival. Annie could intercede and save her mother’s life.

  Maybe I can relive my life with both my wife and my daughter. It wasn’t the first time Robert thought of that.

  In the bathroom, after using the toilet and washing his hands, Robert noticed the edge of the scales between the toilet and the bathtub. He dragged it out and stood on it. The needle came to rest at just over 140. He had told the guys he weighed 150. He knew he was fudging, but he didn’t know he was fudging that much.

  “Maybe there’s a blessing hiding in this cancer,” he said to the wall.

  Annie pushed her phone back into the pocket of her pack and looked at Patrick, Mary, and Richard, who were all staring at her. “What makes you so special?” Mary said.

  “Huh?”

  “There is not a soul who can get a cell phone signal up here, but here you are chatting away.”

  “Yeah. What gives?” Patrick said.

  “Who’s your carrier?” Richard asked.

  “Ah . . . it’s not a cell phone.” They continued to stare at her, obviously not buying the explanation. “It’s a satphone . . . satellite phone. Cellular technology, I guess, or maybe not. Don’t know. Anyway, it uses the satellites instead of cellular relay stations.”

  “Have you had this thing all along?” Mary asked.

  “My grandfather sent it to me. That’s who I was just talking to.”

  “Is it expensive?” Patrick asked.

  “I have no clue. He’s paying for it.”

  “When did you get it?” Mary asked.

  “Tuesday.”

  “Can I see it?” Patrick asked.

  Annie rolled her eyes and pulled it out of its pocket. “Here; knock yourself out.”

  Richard looked down at it in Patrick’s hand. “Looks like a regular cell phone. Does it work the same way?”

  “Haven’t used it much, but it seems to.”

  “Tuesday was the day you weren’t feeling well,” Mary said. “I was up at the lodge when the mail came in. There were no packages.”

  “I think it was UPS,” Annie said, pleased with her quick thinking, wishing they’d all just drop it. She looked around. “Where did the goats go? I didn’t get any pictures.” She walked toward where she last saw them meandering into some trees and brush, hoping that by the time she got back to Mary the phone and the subject of the phone could disappear back into her pack and they could get on with their hike. She wished she hadn’t taken the thing along. How stupid could she be?

  Chapter 27

  June 9, 2007

  A wonderful day. A horrible day. A strange day.

  I don’t know what to call it, but in the end I guess it was a nice day. In a way it was not at all what I expected, and in another, exactly what I expected. I really like Patrick, but I’m not ready. Mary is right. I need to get past these memories of Tony first. I need to get past the guilt. Maybe next summer.

  Annie watched the blinking, vertical line of the cursor well past the point of it going out of focus. She thought of the kiss and wondered if there would be any time in her life that she would kiss a man and not immediately think of Tony. She sighed.

  Maybe never.

  She closed the computer, set it aside and lay back on her bed. There was fun to be had and a full life to live, but it was like she carried an anchor around her neck, an anchor with Tony’s name on it. After talking to her grandfather and then having to face the inquisitors over the satphone, the day slowly deflated. Now that she thought more about it she realized that in the end it was a gray day. It didn’t start out that way, though. It started out bright and blue and wonderful, until the kiss, and even after that, it wasn’t bad.

  Or was it?

  Did she just put on a front, or a mask, and pretend that she was enjoying the park? She wished that Patrick hadn’t showed up, and that she hadn’t run into Mary and Richard, that she had explored Going To The Sun Road and all its many points of interest by herself.

  Tomorrow she would do just that. She would get up really early and slip out before anyone was aware, before Patrick could just show up. When he brought her home and then had asked about joining her on a hike on Sunday, she had been noncommittal saying she had to think about it. He had looked disappointed, and then hopeful. Now she felt bad because she was sure he would come knocking at her door, driving all the way from Kalispell. She should have been up front with him, should have told him that she just needed to be by herself for a while.

  Will he be angry? Will he give up on me? That possibility made her feel just as bad. A tear escaped the corner of one eye, and then her head rolled to one side. Within five minutes she was asleep.

  When Annie awoke it was just after midnight. Her lights were still on and she was still in the clothes she’d worn all day. She rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up. She was surprised that she had fallen asleep. She remembered thinking about Patrick, but she didn’t remember feeling tired. She rose to her feet and went downstairs. After pulling a Grizzly Ranch note pad from the drawer, along with a pen, she sat down at the table and began to write.

  Patrick,

  Thank you so much for yesterday. It was wonderful. Even the kiss. Especially the kiss.

  She crossed out the last sentence, and then the last two sentences, stared
at it a while, and then waded up the paper and threw it into the trashcan. She got out another sheet.

  Patrick,

  Thank you so much for yesterday at Glacier Park. It was wonderful. I know you wanted to hike with me on Sunday, but I think I need a day by myself. Leave your phone number and I’ll call you.

  Annie

  P.S. Please don’t give up on me. I just need some time.

  She debated back and forth on whether to leave out the P.S. In the end she left the decision for morning and then spent the next ten minutes cleaning the trash out of her backpack and preparing it for the next day. She drained the hydrator, left it to air out and then returned to bed, this time undressing first.

  After setting her alarm she lay on her side staring into the dark. Her churning thoughts kept her from relaxing into sleep. She wondered why her grandfather called. He said it was to see how she was doing. For as long as she could remember he never called to see how she was doing. He always had a reason, even when he pretended he didn’t. “By the way,” he’d say after thirty seconds of pleasant chit-chat, “I’ve got this project I’m in the middle of and thought you might be interested,” or “a student of mine presented a question that I’m a little perplexed about, maybe you could shed some insight,” or “have you had an opportunity to study the pebble bed reactor we’re working on in conjunction with the South Africans?” or, “How interested are you, Annie, in exotic matter?”

  She sat up, suddenly realizing that she should have known almost two years ago that he was working in time travel. Why else would he have been delving into exotic matter? He’s not into big bang nucleosynthesis or stellar nucleosynthesis or anything having to do with stellar or galactic science. He was studying exotic matter because it has an energy density greater than its negative pressure, which, in theory, would lead to a more stable wormhole. He was trying to stabilize the wormhole.