A Circle of Time

by Marisa Montes

  “Mom?” I whisper.

  “Mmmmm?” Mom mumbles.

  “Mom, I’m back.”

  With a start, Mom’s head snaps up. She stares at my smiling face.

  “I’m back, Mom.”

  Mom’s mouth opens to speak, but instead, she bites her lower lip, brings a trembling hand to my face, and touches my cheek. Tears spill from her eyes.

  I remember another scene, so similar, yet so long ago: another mother greeting a child she thought she might never see again. My eyes grow heavy. I suddenly feel so tired. I close my eyes and sleep.

  Chapter 33

  As I gather my things and place them in the box Mom brought, preparing for my long-awaited release from the hospital, someone steps up behind me.

  “Allison?” says a familiar male voice. A voice that I thought I’d never hear again. A voice that has haunted my dreams since I awoke from the coma two weeks ago.

  “Joshua?” I can barely whisper the name.

  “Are you Allison Blair?” the voice repeats.

  “Joshua, it is you!” I spin around only to come face-to-face with a stranger. A boy, about my age, smiles apologetically. His onyx-black eyes twinkle with the humor of an untold joke. His elfin smile is infectious.

  “No, I’m Jonah—Jonah Sloane. My mother is your neurosurgeon. But my great-grandfather’s name was Joshua.”

  I must be dreaming! I place my hand on the bed to stop my legs from collapsing beneath me. My heart beats as quickly as if I’d been running a marathon.

  “Are you all right?” Jonah reaches out to keep me from falling. “Maybe you’d better sit down.” He helps me onto the bed.

  His touch is so familiar ... so right. I lick my lips. My mouth is suddenly dry. “Your g-grandfather was Joshua? W-Winthrop?”

  “Mmm-hmm, yes—great-grandfather,” Jonah replies, pulling up a chair next to my bed and making himself comfortable. “You must be wondering why I’m here.”

  I can only nod, and stiffly at that.

  “My mom—Dr. Winthrop-Sloane? Well, like I told you, she’s your surgeon. She was called away—out of state. Mom wanted to give you this herself”—Jonah holds out a sealed, ivory-colored envelope—“but she won’t be back for at least a week. Apparently, this thing’s been in a safe for a while, and Mom had her lawyer bring it to me. She wanted you to have it on the day you left the hospital.

  ” Jonah grins—it’s Joshua’s grin. My heart jumps.

  “I guess I get to be the emissary,” he says.

  With a shaking hand, I reach for the envelope. My full name, Allison Anne Blair, is written in bold black script on the front. The envelope looks yellow with age. I turn it over. A large blue wax seal with the initials JW is burned in the center.

  My fingers tremble as I break the seal. The letter is written in the same bold script that appears on the envelope. I wipe the sweat from my hands and try to keep them from shaking as I read the words.

  Jonah rises. “Well, I guess I’d better leave you alone ... to read the letter.”

  “No!” I cry. Then embarrassed at my outburst, I add, “I mean, please ... stay. I don’t think I can read this alone.”

  Jonah flashes me another heart-stopping smile and sits back down. “Never could resist a damsel in distress. ”

  April 18, 1956

  My Dearest Allison:

  Today is the fiftieth anniversary of the Great Earthquake, and I feel it is fitting to commemorate the date by writing you the letter I’ve been waiting years to write.

  I told you I would never forget you. I hope this proves I never did. And if this letter finds you, I hope it is because in some small way, I was able to give back to you what you gave to Becky and me—life.

  I am embarrassed to confess that until I fell onto the ledge that morning fifty years ago, I did not truly believe you could be from the future. I wanted to believe, and I trusted you with all my heart and soul. But it was blind trust, based on what I felt for you. The occurrence of the earthquake and the terrible fires and damage in San Francisco provided further proof of your existence. The fact you never returned after Becky was saved was the final proof. I miss you more than I can express.

  I wish I could tell you our story had a fairy-tale ending and we all lived happily ever after. Some parts were good, very good. But as Magda always said, you have to take the good with the bad.

  Fate wanted two lives from our small group on April 18, 1906, so in exchange for returning to Becky and me our lives, it took two others. You may not have been aware of it, but in saving Becky’s life, Don Carlos gave up his. In the end, and when it really counted, he proved he loved his granddaughter and his family. Despite his wretched sins, he died a hero.

  The second life fate took that day was Sadie Thompson's. At the time the earthquake struck, Sadie was sitting on the boulder, pulling her loot from the old hollow tree. The tree was rotten, and it collapsed from the violent shaking, crushing Sadie.

  Isa and José were married soon after. It was a simple ceremony. Becky was the maid of honor, and I was best man. Don Carlos hadn’t disinherited Isa after all. He left her financially secure, but Tere inherited the house, the vineyards, and the winery. Tere, however, was busy with other interests (It will please you to know that she became a suffragette and a great political influence in Northern California.), so she asked José to run the winery. He, Isa, and Becky lived in the mansion, and he managed the estate and the winery. They cared lovingly for Dona Ana until she died.

  Isa’s mental health improved, but she was never completely well. She continued to suffer from episodes of manic depression. José and Becky were a great comfort to her.

  When Tere found out about my dream to become a doctor, she insisted on sending me to school right away. She even offered to pay for my entire education. I only agreed when she promised to let me pay back every penny when I could afford to.

  Becky and I were officially engaged when she turned seventeen, but we didn’t marry until I finished medical school. Our son was born rather late in our lives. Jason was a blessing. He decided on his own to follow in my footsteps and become a physician.

  I invested wisely, thanks to your stock tips, and became very wealthy. Since I already felt like the richest man on Earth, after all you had given Becky and me, I did not need more money. So after I repaid Tere, I kept the silent promise I had made to you many years before. I am using the money I receive from my many investments to create the best trauma and head-injury clinic on the West Coast. Built in the county of your accident, it will be waiting for you in 1996. I have named it the Rebecca Lee Winthrop Memorial Hospital, in her memory and, secretly, in yours. My beloved Becky died of cancer five years ago.

  Jason has promised to continue in my efforts after I am gone. Other than Magda and me, no one knew about your trips to the past until I confided in Jason. You can well imagine how difficult it was to make him believe. I’m not entirely sure he does believe, but he trusts me. And what' ever the reason, I know he’ll work to make the clinic the best possible. Jason’s daughter, Theresa, is three years old. Who knows I Perhaps she, too, will choose to carry on the Winthrop tradition.

  So, as you see, my dear Allison, things have come full circle. What you gave to me, I have tried to give back to you. If this letter reaches you, we have completed a circle of time. I pray we meet again, in a time and place that is ours.

  Your loving and faithful friend,

  Joshua Winthrop

  About the Author

  MARISA MONTES is the author of Something Wicked’s in Those Woods. She lives in Walnut Creek, California.

 

 

 
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