A Ripple in Time

by David Berardelli

  Suddenly I had an idea. “How about the Fairmont? I was only there long enough to drop off my bags, but it’s a really swanky place. I saw a bunch of ads for dinner the Habitat’s having tomorrow. It sounds like they’re going all out. It could be really great.”

  She tilted her head. “Mr. Danner, could this be your subtle way of rescuing me from rushing around, fighting the crowds—and the horrible traffic—to do some last-minute grocery-shopping on Christmas Eve?”

  “Damned straight. And since we’ll be spending so much time together, please call me Bill. All my friends do—that is, if I had any.”

  She laughed.

  “What part of that did you find amusing?”

  She shrugged. “I can’t believe a really nice, personable guy like you doesn’t have any friends…”

  “Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t. Not really.”

  “You can’t be serious. I haven’t heard a bad word about you. Not from Mr. Erikson or anyone else at E&S who’s ever dealt with you.”

  “Well, I’ve always found it best to treat people how I’d like to be treated. It’s not only easier, it also causes less problems. But I’m serious about having no friends. I’ve always preferred keeping to myself. You never have to explain your actions or motivations to yourself. And if you do, you might want to look into finding a reputable therapist to talk to.”

  She smiled. “I believe you. But getting back to the issue… You’re beginning to sound like someone who’s never been married.”

  “Guilty.”

  Her green eyes grew. It made me wonder if she thought I was lying again. “Really?”

  “You find it that difficult to believe?”

  “I guess not. Marriage isn’t that important nowadays. You’ve had girlfriends, haven’t you?”

  “Of course I’ve had girlfriends. Tons of them. What about you? Are you married?”

  “I was. We divorced about a year ago, after five years.”

  “Was it bad?”

  She gave me a half-smile. “I’m still coping, but I’m fine.”

  I could see the light draining from her face and decided it was time to change the subject. “So then…what about the Fairmont thing?”

  “Well, it does sound inviting…”

  “Is it a date, then?”

  “I have to drive over tomorrow anyway, so…”

  “Why?”

  “I kind of volunteered to chauffer you around. Since you don’t have a car, you’ll be forced to take cabs, and that would really be a bummer, especially after what you went through...”

  “Why did you volunteer?”

  She shrugged. “I’m usually the one who always volunteers for the dirty jobs.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “Now I’m a dirty job… How unpleasant. And offensive. And tacky. I’m hurt. And slighted.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way…”

  “I was just pulling your wire.”

  “I just meant that whenever something comes along no one else has time for—“

  “They call you Dirty Brittany at the office?”

  Her green eyes narrowed. “Don’t be silly…”

  “By the way, you never said where you live.”

  “North Hills.”

  “How far from your folks?”

  “Not far enough. About three miles.”

  “Not far enough?” I could tell I’d hit a nerve.

  She sighed tiredly, as if she’d been through this too many times before. “It gets a little inconvenient once in a while—especially when they decide to come over without calling, or call and ask me to come right over. And when I ask why, they always say it’s extremely important. And when I jump in the Lexus and rush over, it’s usually for something stupid, like the two of them having a tiff, and Mom wanting some of the family at the table besides Dad. But they’re my parents, so…” She shrugged.

  “Mine separated years ago. I never see them anymore.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so…well, so callous…”

  “I know. It’s a double-edged sword. You either have them and want to shoot them, or you don’t have them and wish you still had them around.”

  “One time, my father came over when I was having dinner with a prospective date…”

  “I’ll bet that was interesting.”

  “Thank God it was just dinner. The man was a client, and we decided to have dinner at my place before I drove him back to the airport so he could fly back to New York.”

  We were just two customers away from the cashier when I felt someone’s eyes on me. When I turned toward the door, I thought I saw a scrawny little girl with thick dark-brown hair standing beside the door, watching me.

  Was it—

  No. It couldn’t be.

  Suddenly dizzy, I put the bottle of port on the counter and rubbed my eyes.

  “You all right?” Brittany looked worried.

  The dizziness ebbed slightly as I waited for my vision to clear.

  “Bill?” Brittany placed a hand on my arm. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m fine.” My vision cleared. I turned back toward the entrance.

  The little girl had vanished.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Unnerved by what happened in the state store, I chose not to let it ruin the rest of our day. Brittany hadn’t said much about the incident on the way over from Penn Avenue. She’d glanced at me several times as she drove but asked me only once if I was feeling all right. I could tell she was being tactful and knew she was somewhat suspicious. I couldn’t blame her. I’d probably feel the same way under the same circumstances.

  Even so, I had no intention of telling her that I’d just seen what I could only describe as a hallucination, and that it looked very much like the little girl I’d dreamed about at the hospital. I’d just met Brittany and already liked her very much. I could tell she was growing to like me as well. I didn’t want to scare her off so quickly by demonstrating to her that I might be mental.

  But I couldn’t help wondering why I kept seeing this same little girl. Part of me was totally convinced that this hallucination was Jenna, who I’d seen only a couple of times as a kid. However, the other part—that portion of my brain that clung stubbornly to logic and scoffed at things like hallucinations and figments of my imagination—suggested that this might have had something to do with the blow to the head I’d sustained just two days earlier.

  This, of course, brought me right back to the voice that had saved me and sent the paramedics directly to me. Even my logic couldn’t prevent me from putting those two facts together.

  But what did my memories of Jenna have to do with the voice in the alley? The voice I’d heard was that of a young woman—not a child.

  Were the two connected?

  If so, how?

  Most importantly, why did I keep seeing Jenna?

  “Where are you?” Brittany asked as she turned at the light and followed the long line of traffic onto Market Street.

  “I’m right here.” I realized only then that I must have zoned out again. Then I cursed myself for acting so foolish. I was sitting beside a beautiful woman, but instead of enjoying the moment, I continued fantasizing over the hallucination of a young girl I hadn’t seen in thirty years.

  I really am mental, I told myself. I really do need psychiatric help.

  “You seem somewhere else,” she said.

  “I guess I’m just tired. The last few days…” I shook my head.

  She nodded. “Sorry. I should be more sympathetic.”

  “You’re not doing anything wrong, believe me. This is all on me. I need to focus on the here and now and forget about what happened two nights ago.”

  We reached the Fairmont Hotel shortly after one-thirty.

  The pine-scented lobby was handsomely decorated with hanging garlands, ribbons and bows, and dozens of ornaments placed tastefully in the windows, on the front desk, and on the polished furniture. A huge, lavishly-decorated pine tre
e dominated the sitting area; large sprigs of holly and clusters of old-fashioned Christmas balls and stars hung from the chandeliers.

  The decorations and cheerful feel of our new surroundings lifted my spirits immediately. A lavish sign on an easel next to the hall that led to the Habitat listed their Christmas Eve specials. The moment I saw roast beef with sautéed mushrooms and onions, asparagus, wild rice, and a variety of pies and cheesecakes available from the dessert bar, I realized just how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten much at all at the hospital; their food had been unappetizing and tasteless. Aside from the mint jell-O and their chocolate custards, what food I’d managed to force down hadn’t been enough to keep an infant alive.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  “Actually, I’m starving.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the menu as well. “All I had for breakfast was a stale croissant and a cup of coffee.”

  I held out my arm. “My treat? I have even money—thanks to you.”

  She took it and laughed. “I graciously accept the offer, kind sir.”

  ***

  The meal was delicious, the roast beef to die for. The service was impeccable. The Christmas carols piped in through the speaker system gave the occasion an especially festive feel.

  During the meal, Brittany and I exchanged more small talk. I learned that she was the youngest in her family, with two brothers and two sisters. One sister lived in Richland Township and worked as a doctor’s assistant with her husband, a pediatrician. The other sister worked as a paralegal secretary at a law firm on Penn Avenue. Her two brothers also lived fairly close—one in Butler, the other in Pleasant Hills. They were in their early forties, both executives with investment companies. Her father had retired from the Air Force three years earlier. While he repaired furniture for relatives and neighbors in their two-car garage, her mother maintained their spacious North Hills home.

  It was obviously a close-knit family, one very similar to what mine had been before my parents began having serious problems just a year or so before I graduated from high school.

  Soon we were enjoying the Habitat’s excellent cheesecake selections. I chose vanilla, Brittany chocolate, and it wasn’t long before we both realized we’d eaten too much. However, the pain in the back of my head had all but vanished, and I actually felt revitalized. The meal and the pleasant company had been just what I’d needed. I sat back and had a sip of my wine.

  Then, just as Brittany began talking about the food and the quality of service, I caught movement in the corner of my eye. I turned. Our waitress was approaching our table, our bill on a silver tray in her hand.

  For an instant I thought I saw the little dark-haired girl following her.

  Dizziness enveloped me, and I imagined I saw the table—as well as the floor—shifting in front of me. But even as I fought the sudden vertigo, I knew something wasn’t quite right; the plates weren’t sliding off the table. I was just about to grab the table for balance when I heard a soft voice close to me.

  “Bill?” It was Brittany. “You all right?”

  My vision cleared. The waitress was walking away, heading back to the kitchen. Brittany was standing over me. She looked worried as she gently shook me.

  My God, I thought, the cold fear shooting through me. It’s happened again…

  “Bill?”

  Forcing myself to snap out of it, I forced a weak smile in her direction. “Sorry about that.” I sincerely hoped downplaying this might work better than filling her in on what seemed to be the continuation of my complete mental breakdown.

  “Did you zone out or something? You had a really weird expression on your face.”

  “I’m afraid I’m still suffering intermittent periods of dizziness. The knot on the back of my skull…it apparently did more damage than I thought. I’m afraid it’s affected my equilibrium.” I reached up and gingerly felt the fresh bandage the nurse had replaced just before I’d left the hospital. The wound was a little tender—hardly worth worrying about anymore—but I made the gesture just for show. I didn’t want Brittany to think anything else was going on.

  “Did they give you any meds for it?”

  “They gave me two Tylenol, but I left them on the table. Tylenol always makes me nauseous. I was going to buy some Ibuprophen whenever I can find my way to a drugstore.”

  “I think I might have some of those in my bag…” She snatched the bag from the chair, placed it in her lap and opened it.

  “It’s all right. I feel much better already.”

  “It’s no problem.” She rummaged through the bag, found a small vial, opened it and dropped two in her palm. She handed them to me. “I’ll feel better if you take them. I know how awful headaches can be.”

  I took them from her. “I really don’t want to take them now because I’ve had so much wine, but I promise I’ll take them later, before I go to bed. All right?”

  “Of course. I’m sure they’ll help.”

  “And thank you.” I wrapped them in a napkin and shoved them down my pants pocket. “I appreciate it.”

  “It’s no bother at all.” She had another small sip of her wine. “You’re sure you feel all right now?”

  “I’m fine. In fact, I feel good enough to see what they’re doing on Market Street. They used to put on quite a display at Christmas Eve when I lived here years ago. Do they still do it?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Would you like to see what they’re doing? We can brave the cold for half an hour or so, can’t we?”

  Brittany smiled. “That sounds like fun.”

  ***

  Market Street exploded with twinkling lights and loud, enthusiastic carolers. The surrounding buildings, all lit up in red, green, and gold, bathed the busy area in a brilliant happy glow. A large tree glittering with lights lit up the center of the Square. Small crowds, oblivious of the cold and the hint of snow in the air, strolled down the walk.

  Brittany and I went over to one of the dozen or so concession stands lining the street and bought two large cups of hot cocoa. As we sipped the delicious, steaming brew, we went over to one of the few vacant park benches. For the next few minutes, we watched the slow-moving crowd while a growing number of carolers gathered around the tree, chanting “Little Drummer Boy.”

  “This is really nice,” Brittany said. “It really puts you in the Christmas spirit.”

  I could tell by her gleaming smile that she was having a good time.

  “It really does,” I agreed. “If I hadn’t been mugged and nearly killed, you would have missed out on all this.”

  She laughed. “That’s one way of looking at it, I guess…”

  “A wise man always sees the good in everything that happens in life.”

  “Is that a quote from someone?” she asked.

  “I have no idea. I figured I just thunk up that one on my own.”

  She smiled. “We’ll go with that, then.”

  “Agreed.” I had another sip of hot cocoa.

  Brittany sat up. “Would you like to mosey on over to the tree and check out the ornaments?”

  “Actually, I’m a little too comfortable right now to do any worthwhile moseying.”

  “Would you mind if I went over and checked it out? I’ll only be a moment.”

  “Not at all.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “I hope so. I’d hate to think I could scare you off so quickly.”

  “A guy would have to be blind, gay, or totally insane to be scared off by a lady like you.”

  She was smiling, but I could tell she was trying to decide if I was serious. “I may be totally wrong, but that certainly sounded like one really terrific compliment…”

  “It was when I said it. I was afraid it wouldn’t come out quite right.”

  The green eyes stayed focused on mine. “It came out just fine.”

  “Good. I’m glad something’s finally going right for me.”
>
  “Do you want my advice?”

  “I probably could use it.”

  She smiled. “Keep up the good work.”

  It brought a smile to my lips and made me feel much better.

  She stood up. Before moving away, she watched me for a few moments. “You promise you won’t zone out again while I’m gone?”

  “I can’t guarantee it, but as I told you before, I feel fine.”

  “All right, then. I’ll only be a minute or so. And please don’t go anywhere, okay?”

  I bowed. “As you say, milady…”

  She gave me one last smile. Then she turned and went down the narrow walk that led to the Christmas tree.

  The moment I was alone, I heard someone approaching me.

  I turned. It was the dark-haired little girl.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I could barely find my voice. “This may sound weird, but you look just like a little girl I used to know a long time ago, when I was just a kid.”

  She didn’t reply. Without a word, she stepped closer, reached up and touched my shoulder.

  A warm tingling ran down my body.

  In the next instant, blackness consumed me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The blackness cleared a moment later, and I found that I was standing at the foot of the hill behind my cousin Johnny’s two-story red brick house in South Hills.

  It was no longer winter. It was actually quite warm, and the approaching darkness suggested that it was nearly well past seven at night.

  What the hell was going on? Why was I here?

  More importantly, how did I get here?

  Just moments ago, I was sitting on a park bench with Brittany Sanderson in Market Square in downtown Pittsburgh. It was Christmas Eve. We’d just had a remarkable dinner at the Habitat in the Fairmont Hotel and decided to enjoy a cup of hot cocoa while watching the joyous holiday activity down the street. I was getting to know a lovely young woman and was having more fun than I’d had in a long time.

  But in the mere blinking of an eye, something strange happened. The little dark-haired girl I’d been seeing and dreaming about the last couple of days had suddenly come over to the bench I was sitting on and changed everything with a mere touch of her hand. My hot cocoa was gone. So was Brittany. Market Square also vanished, and with it, the cold evening, the carolers, the glittering lights, Christmas Eve, and Pittsburgh itself.