by Linda Grant
“So what happens now?”
“Nothing right now. Other matters may require a helping hand.”
And so Cummings had gone away, and because he was so tired he had lain down and almost instantly fallen asleep and had a wonderful dream that he tried desperately to remember when he woke up, but it was no good. All he could remember was that he and Crystal, whose face kept changing into Devonna’s, were together and working on something important.
CHAPTER 52
Marjory Morgan Bennett Caleb’s mansion, June 21, 1992
* * *
“Geraldine, let’s go sit on that seat in that lovely bay window for a few minutes.”
Her niece looked at her in surprise and then walked over to the far side of the room.
“A magnificent view,” said Marjory, seating herself on a cushion and admiring the moon silvering the tips of the waves rolling against the rocks below.
Geraldine sat down beside her aunt and said, “I think I’ll go back home tomorrow, Aunt Marjory.”
“You won’t stay for another few days?”
“I don’t think so.” Geraldine gave a light laugh and continued. “I’m anxious to get back to work early.”
“And Dan?”
“So that’s what this is about. I like Dan,” she said slowly, “but I’m not sure.”
“I saw how he looked at you this evening. He’s definitely interested in you.”
Her niece blushed and started smoothing down her sundress.
“I understand, dear. After the affair with Charles, you may think it’s too soon to become involved with another man.”
“It’s not that, but how do I know that Dan won’t leave me in the lurch?”
Her aunt was blunt. “Did he last time?”
“You’re assuming that he was Paul.”
“Perhaps, but even if Dan isn’t the reincarnation of Paul, sometimes you have to take a chance. And my intuition tells me that Dan is a good man who won’t let you down. Just as importantly, I think you’ve learned some things about yourself lately, particularly from those dreams of Susanna that you’ve been having.”
Her niece took a deep breath and said, “You might be right, but I’m still not sure …”
“Oh, Geraldine. Just talk to the man. If I’m not mistaken, he’s waiting for you over there.”
Agitated, Geraldine stood up and took a few steps toward Dan, who was sitting in the wing chair in the far corner of the library.
“I’ll say good night now, dear. Just don’t leave San Francisco without talking to him.”
Marjory paused at the library door and saw Dan striding over to Geraldine. He reached out to her. Geraldine took a tentative step toward him.
The last thing Marjory saw before she closed the door was Dan leading Geraldine, their hands entwined, over to the window seat, where they sat and began talking, their heads close together.
Unable to sleep right away, Marjory went into the breakfast room. A slight cough from behind her made her turn around.
“I took the liberty, Mrs. Bennett, of bringing you a cup of tea.”
“Thank you, Cummings. It’s been a tiring time. I appreciate the tea,” she said, sinking down gratefully into an armchair. Cummings put the tray with the tea things on a table and sat down opposite her.
His voice was gentle as he said, “You and the others have done humanity a great service, which is just beginning. Caleb and his new family will need your support.”
An image of the future surged into her mind: Caleb and his wife, Gloria, his former secretary, were looking into a crib where their twins lay sleeping. Together, the children would grow up to influence the world in dramatic and special ways.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
Marjory found herself gripping the arms of her chair and Cummings looking at her with those calm, wise eyes. “Was it enough, Cummings? Did our tampering with time really help?” she asked in a strained voice.
“More than you know, I suspect.” His voice took on a resonant timbre that she hadn’t noticed before. “Sages have said that this world is a school, a perfect place for individuals to learn and grow in awareness. If they do not, it is possible that they will destroy themselves. We are very near the end of a major cycle when a balance must be achieved. Many forces seek to disrupt this balance, with disastrous consequences if that happens. Your part, and that of the others, is to help preserve this equilibrium.”
“Why is that so important?”
“To preserve the earth and ensure that humanity may mature into its potential.”
“If we make the right choices.”
“That is so. Good night, Mrs. Bennett.”
Bowing slightly, he left the room with an unhurried tread, as though he had all the time in the world.
EPILOGUE
Max Hauptman Brazil, June 22, 1992
* * *
The old man dying on his bed listened to the nurse bustling around in his room. When Carlo had phoned him yesterday about the failure to exterminate the Morgans, he’d collapsed. They had wanted to take him to a hospital, but he had forbidden it. He’d die here, in his own bed, in his own way, and in his own time.
The nurse had banished his papagaio. Strange how he missed it, a stupid bird that had never talked, only moped in a cage.
And Carlo. He forced himself to admit that, yes, he missed his son, even though he had failed. And with him had died the chance to change history.
Exhausted, he dozed. Images tumbled through his mind: a Celtic horde advancing on the Romans while he, Mabon, made his secret deals to betray his country, but for the greater good, always! And the Indian lifetime. “Kiontawakon,” he muttered feebly. The nurse bent over him. He waved her away. She left, leaving a faintly pleasing antiseptic odor.
There had been other lifetimes, of course, but none more important than this one when he had almost succeeded in imposing his vision on the world. It would have been a glorious destiny, the Third Reich, a fitting successor to the Roman Empire, which he had admired greatly. Generations would remember him and tremble.
But in his next life, he would not make the same mistakes. The name of Hitler had become a byword, a reproach. But he had almost succeeded. Almost.
Next time …
The End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am very grateful to editors Laura Gray, Quressa Robinson, and Sally Mason at Hay House for their patience and helpful suggestions, which have made my book so much better than it was originally.
Thanks also to Elizabeth Diewert at Balboa Press for her encouragement and help, and to the jurists there who chose Timewatch as the winner of the Balboa Press Fiction contest.
Many thanks also to my stepdaughter for following her intuition and suggesting to my husband that I enter the contest. I definitely owe you, Karen!
I am also grateful to the Manitoba Arts Council who, after seeing only three chapters of a rough draft of my book, gave me a grant to assist in finishing it.
Finally, I am so grateful to my extraordinary husband, Ron Lyric, for his steadfast love and support, and for his help in editing and contributing ideas to my novel.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda Grant is the winner of the first Balboa Press fiction contest. In addition to writing, Linda has taught gifted children in public schools and developed and led courses on personal growth and self-development for adults. She worked for a brief time in film and television production, the highlight of which was her experience as the production coordinator on the IMAX film Heartland. The mother of two daughters and stepmother to four others, Linda lives with her husband, Ron, in Kelowna, Canada, where they have led courses on a wide range of social and metaphysical topics.
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