His story wasn’t exactly as Jack had presented it to the class, but it was close. Ruthie couldn’t imagine having no family—or rather, having them and then losing them. “Do you have any family now?”
“No—and I shan’t,” he declared.
He must have had a family in the future, Ruthie thought, otherwise Jack wouldn’t be here! “Why not?” As soon as she blurted out the question, she wondered if it was too personal.
“I’ve lost enough,” he answered, a hardened finality in his voice.
Ruthie was completely taken aback by what Jack said next.
“I know what you mean.”
“Do you, now?” Jack Norfleet responded with a skeptical tone.
“I don’t have a dad,” Jack said. “He died before I was born. It’s just me and my mom. And that’s all right.”
“I’ll warrant your mother is a fine one. As mine was,” Jack Norfleet said, rising from his bench. Ruthie rose as well, but Jack stayed seated, his eyes fixed on the ivory-handled knife lying on the table in front of him. Jack Norfleet noticed.
“It’s whale tooth. You fancy it?” He picked up the knife and offered it to Jack.
“Thank you, Mr. Norfleet, but I can’t accept this.” Ruthie knew that Jack couldn’t bring the knife with him through the rooms even though he would have loved to. It would only disappear as soon as they returned to room A12.
“I have others,” Jack Norfleet said, gesturing toward the two smaller ones left on his belt. “Please.” He held the knife outstretched to Jack.
“All right. Thank you.” Jack looked at Ruthie and shrugged. “Wow!” Jack added, turning the blade over in his hands, admiring the smoothly curved white handle with the initials JN carved into it.
“ ‘Wow’? This word is new to my ears.”
“Oh, it means … ‘excellent,’ I suppose,” Jack said.
Following him to the stairs, Ruthie gathered the bulky skirt of the dress in her hands and looked up to see the brilliant blue sky peeking through the billowing white sails.
“You and I have more than a name in common, haven’t we?” Jack Norfleet said as Jack took his first step onto the plank.
“You’ve had a more exciting life,” Jack replied.
“That I have. And I take pleasure in the work I do.” He stood tall and looked down at Jack. “But I would forsake it all to have my family back, to have lived a common life with the people I loved. You say living among the pirates was exciting, but I wish my mother and father could know the man I’ve become, to see all that I’ve built.”
Ruthie sensed the meeting was over.
“Now, you’ve taken more than enough of my time,” Norfleet pronounced with a fierce edge returning to his voice. “Tell your father I’ve no interest in working for a man until I’ve taken account of him. In person. Be off with you!”
And with that, Ruthie noticed Jack Norfleet’s brow sink, and his lively eyes appeared to darken a shade. He gave no response when Ruthie said, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Norfleet.” He turned and lumbered down the stairs, back inside the steadily rocking ship.
18
UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES
RUTHIE AND JACK WALKED DOWN the pier and found Miss Wilshire waiting on a bench nearby. She rose as soon as she saw them approach.
“Did you have a satisfactory meeting?” she asked.
“Yes and no,” Ruthie answered.
“How so?”
“Well, it was interesting, but I wouldn’t say he was in the best mood,” Jack said, still inspecting the knife.
“He’s not the kind of person who likes his time wasted,” Ruthie added. “He’s a little touchy about that.”
“Touchy?” the eighteenth-century lady asked.
“Uh, impatient,” Ruthie explained.
Jack was preparing to put the knife in his pocket when the sunlight bounced off the blade, catching Miss Wilshire’s attention.
“Is that of his hand?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Jack said, showing it off. “See his initials?”
“He puts a fine touch to the least as well as the grandest!” she noted admiringly.
“We’d better go, Jack,” Ruthie reminded, worrying about how much time they’d just spent on board the ship and eager to get to Phoebe’s room.
“Thank you,” Miss Wilshire said. “I shall pick a more opportune time to call on him then. When I have an inquiry of substance.”
“Probably a good idea,” Jack agreed. “But he’s not so bad.”
Miss Wilshire looked at the Clementine one more time, then turned and left without saying anything more.
Jack’s gaze was also directed at the ship and the ocean beyond it.
“I still can’t believe it!” he said finally, shaking his head, as if waking from a dream. They began the walk back up toward Main Street, away from the harbor. “That was … I don’t know what it was!”
“The ships he built were incredible. I wonder what happened to him next,” Ruthie mused.
“It’s sad,” Jack continued, “how he lost all of his family. At least I have my mom.”
“And aunts and uncles, cousins and my family,” Ruthie reminded him. “Plus no one thinks you should be in jail!”
“Yeah. I have it pretty good.”
At the garden gate, Jack stopped to look at the ocean one more time. “I should convince my mom to visit Cape Cod. I bet it would be good for her.” Then he took the whale-tooth-handled knife from his pocket. “Man, I’d really like to keep this. Too bad.”
“At least you know he wanted you to have it,” Ruthie said, hoping that would soften the blow of watching it disappear. “We should get back.”
Ruthie watched Jack close the gate behind him and noticed something odd; for a few seconds he seemed to freeze in place, as though he were a statue. Then he blinked a few times and completed the motion, making sure the gate was latched.
“You feel okay?” she asked.
He looked at her funny. “Now that you mention it, I do feel … I don’t know … weird.”
They listened carefully at the doorstep before entering the room. They’d been in the eighteenth century for more than two hours, although it felt like much less. Stepping in, Jack grasped the knife tightly, as if clutching it with all his strength might avoid the inevitable. But before a few seconds had elapsed, his hand was clenched in an empty fist.
“Sorry, Jack,” Ruthie said gently.
He then looked past her, his eyes widened by alarm. “Don’t move!” he whispered.
Ruthie’s instinctive response was to turn around and look at what Jack had seen, but she stopped herself before budging an inch. Three young viewers came to the window.
“Hey, look!” a boy exclaimed.
“Her dress is so perfect,” a girl said.
“Let’s see if there are any other rooms with a person in them,” the boy suggested, and they moved on.
“I hope they don’t tell anyone what they saw,” Ruthie said, darting into the clothes closet. Jack tumbled in right behind her and closed the door. “That was too close!”
“You can say that again!” Jack put the vest on a hook.
“We were lucky we were still dressed right,” Ruthie said, hanging up the hat and unlacing the bodice of her dress. “These clothes are kind of a pain, though.”
“It’s not so bad for guys,” Jack said. “At least the pants are pretty much the same as today.” He placed the three-cornered hat on another hook.
They wandered out to the corridor. Ruthie still felt pressed to go to Phoebe’s room. She was certain the tag would lead them to the will and the letter. But for now she had an impulse to sit and collect her thoughts. It had been an emotional couple of hours, especially for Jack.
“Let’s rest for a few minutes,” Ruthie suggested. “We have plenty of time.” So they sat down, dangling their feet over the edge, feeling not the least queasy anymore about the vast canyon below them.
“I liked him,” Jack said after a bit.
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“Me too. At first I was a little unsure about him. You know, if he was going to be mean or something,” Ruthie admitted.
“Yeah, but he had a rough life. That explains a lot.” Jack tilted his head from side to side, the way people do when they’ve got a stiff neck. “I really do feel kinda achy. I hope I’m not getting sick.”
Ruthie reached over to feel his forehead. “Whoa—your head’s cold. I mean really cold!”
“I guess that’s better than having a fever, right?”
“You probably feel strange because of what just happened.”
“Probably.”
They stared off into the darkness of the corridor, each thinking about how the last hours had unfolded. They had met people from the past before but this felt different to Ruthie. And it was not altogether a good kind of different. She felt an apprehension that she’d never felt in the rooms, vague but undeniable. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.
A sudden noise rang out, causing them both to jump and nearly lose their balance on the ledge. After a split second, Ruthie recognized the sound that had interrupted her thoughts; her cell phone was ringing.
“That’s a first,” Jack said, while Ruthie looked at the caller ID. “We didn’t know it would work small.”
“Hi, Dad,” Ruthie answered. She listened and responded, “But can’t I stay at the museum a little longer? Please? Oh, all right.” She snapped her phone shut, exasperated. “It’s Claire’s birthday. My parents decided we’re going out for an early dinner so she can go to a friend’s house for a party and sleep over after.”
“Then we’d better go,” Jack said, rising.
“But we need to find the will and the letter. Or at least try.”
“We can come back tomorrow.”
“I guess we’ll have to.” Ruthie sighed and headed toward the chain. “A lot happened today—I can hardly remember this morning.”
“I know. But I won’t forget meeting Jack Norfleet,” Jack said.
“What’s with people?” Jack said, as the third person on the bus brushed by him, nearly knocking him over. It was crowded but not so crowded that people couldn’t pass by him. Usually Jack took moments like this in stride, having ridden the city buses his whole life.
“You really do look kinda sick, Jack. You’re super pale,” Ruthie said. “I’m gonna stop at your house with you.”
“Excuse me?” a woman seated near her said. “Were you talking to me?”
“No.” Ruthie smiled politely, but the woman looked at her like she didn’t believe her.
They hopped off the bus and made the short jog to Jack’s building. He took his key from his pocket to unlock the street door.
“What’s the matter?” Ruthie asked when he had trouble with the lock.
“Must be jammed or something,” he replied, jiggling the key some more. “It’s broken.”
He pushed the intercom button.
“Yes?” a man’s voice came through the speaker.
“Uh, hey, is my mom there?” Ruthie could tell Jack didn’t recognize this voice.
“Pardon me?” the voice responded.
A horrible wave of terror flashed through Ruthie’s body as she simultaneously heard this stranger’s voice and read the name next to the button. H. Miller filled the line that should have read L. Tucker! In a fraction of a second, Ruthie went from complete disorientation, thinking that this must be the wrong building or the wrong intercom or the wrong something, to a glimpse of understanding—understanding that had not hit Jack yet.
“Lydia Tucker,” Jack insisted. “Put her on.”
“Sorry. Wrong address.”
The buzzer went dead.
“What’s that guy doing answering my buzzer?” Jack was shaking his head.
“Jack,” Ruthie said weakly, her throat dry, “I think something awful is happening.…”
19
A LOOPHOLE
RUTHIE FOLLOWED JACK AS HE ran around to the back of the building to check the alley door, but she knew what he would find. His key didn’t open that door either. Nor did he find his family’s garbage cans and storage shed or his mom’s car.
He picked up a rock and wound up to try to hit the fourth-floor window of his living room.
“Jack! It’s no use!” Ruthie grabbed his arm before he could release a hurtling projectile.
He turned to her, his mouth set in a tight grimace. And then his expression transformed as the frightening truth began to dawn on him.
“On the bus … people were bumping into me because they didn’t see me.…”
Ruthie nodded.
“And in the museum … those kids looking in the room commented only on your dress; they didn’t say anything about seeing me.”
“But I can see you,” she said. In spite of the fact that Jack stood right next to her, alive and breathing, she feared the worst. Suppose there was something about this time travel, some strange loophole in the magic that could affect Jack’s very existence? He was so ashen she thought she was beginning to see right through him.
“Feel my head again.”
Ruthie put her palm to his forehead. It felt even colder than before. “Look, we can figure this out.”
“But my mom doesn’t live in this building! Who knows if she even lives in Chicago!” He paused and thought some more. “But … it doesn’t matter, does it?”
Ruthie had come to the same conclusion just moments before. If they had somehow changed the past with their visit to Jack Norfleet, then none of Jack’s family’s history had come to pass.
But if Jack never existed, Ruthie’s mind raced, did I have any adventures in the rooms? After all, he was the one who found the key. And if that didn’t happen, how can I stop what is happening now? She dared not say this aloud. Instead she shouted, “The key! The coin! Give them to me!”
Jack plunged his hands in his pockets and fished them out. Ruthie exhaled when she saw their usual magic glow. She was about to grab them, but stopped herself. Think, Ruthie, think of the possible consequences!
“Hold my hand,” she directed as she took his free hand and held her other hand open to receive the two items. “Okay. That’s good. I can still feel you.”
Jack let go. Ruthie looked at him directly in the eyes, looking for—what? Some dimming of the light in them?
“Okay. Let’s think this through,” Ruthie began. “We did something in the past that has changed the course of history. Your ancestor, in one version of history, must have had a family. But then something we did—or didn’t do—made him not have one. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, logically, because I’m not … completely here. I’m disappearing,” Jack said. Even the colors of his clothes had faded, as though they’d been washed in bleach.
“But you are still here—to me. And the key and coin are still flashing, so that part of the history—my part—hasn’t completely changed. There must be magic working,” Ruthie insisted. “Okay, I’m going to keep the key and you keep the coin”—she gave the coin to him—“at least until we get back to Jack Norfleet and undo whatever we did.”
“You keep saying ‘we.’ It doesn’t matter if I go, ’cause I don’t really exist in this version of events, remember?”
“Yeah, but I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Ruthie declared. “C’mon.”
Claire’s birthday dinner was the strangest experience of Ruthie’s life. She was with her family at their favorite Italian restaurant, with her best friend sitting on a chair at a nearby empty table, invisible to the world. Ruthie had to remind herself over and over again not to talk to him—not even to refer to him—and her mother asked her at least a half dozen times if something was wrong. She had to act well, above all else, for if her parents thought she was sick, they wouldn’t let her leave the apartment tomorrow. And she had to get to the museum, to A12 to change history back to the way it was before. She stabbed some ravioli with her fork and forced herself to chew and swallow.
Besides the fact that Jack was appearing less solid, less tangible even to her, Ruthie noticed another frightening element: she was beginning to have a hard time remembering things about him. Things like when they’d met for the first time, or when his birthday was. All evidence of Jack was slipping away. And new memories of a life—her life—without Jack were taking their place.
Yes, Mom, something is terribly wrong!
That night at Ruthie’s house, she had Jack follow her around. She went to the living room and pretended to read, which didn’t last long as she was too anxious to even fake reading. She moved to the family computer in the dining room. She wrote questions for Jack on the screen, which he answered out loud, since no one but Ruthie could hear.
How are you feeling now? she typed.
“About the same, still cold. I kinda feel like I’ve lost weight.”
Can you remember your past? Like your birthday, or when you were in kindergarten?
“Yes, I can remember everything. Why?”
Just wondering. The lie appeared on the screen.
“Time for bed, Ruthie,” her mom called from the living room. “If you’re going to spend all day at Millennium Park with Katie and the girls, you don’t want to be tired.”
At first Ruthie had no idea what her mother was talking about, but her mother’s prompt was enough to jiggle loose a memory from … when? Just the other day? She and Katie Hobson and some other girls in her class—her very close friends—had planned to spend Sunday at an all-day summer kickoff concert. It was going to be fun. The details were becoming crystal clear and Ruthie remembered all the phone conversations over the last couple of days with Katie and Amanda, and … Wait, she reminded herself. I have something more important to do! And going to the park would provide a perfect alibi.
“Okay, Mom, almost done.”
“What’s she talking about?” Jack asked. “What concert? You and Katie …” By the look on his face, Ruthie could tell he was catching on. “Do you actually remember planning this?”
She typed her answer. Yeah. I guess in this new version of my life, Katie’s my best friend. It felt like a betrayal to give someone besides Jack that title. Sorry.
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