by Shawn Inmon
KGW, one of the Portland television stations, sent a crew to Middle Falls to do a public interest story on both Joe and the grand opening of the Oasis.
The pretty young reporter was wearing the wrong kind of shoes to be walking through the forested grounds, but she gamely tried to keep up with Joe as he walked and talked.
“It’s a bit unusual to combine an animal shelter with a hospice for homeless veterans, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Joe answered with a shrug. “I guess so, but if anyone could see the way our guests have interacted with the dogs and cats, I think it would be a lot more common. Deep down, I think everyone wants to work. So, for our guests, we try to have jobs for them. Custodial work, landscaping work, or volunteering in the shelter.” Joe laughed a little. “That’s the most popular job. We’re never short on volunteers in the shelter.”
“One question everyone will want to know is, why? Why go to all this trouble and expense to house so few people? Won’t people wonder if maybe those resources could have been better directed to a wider group and benefited more veterans?”
“I think that’s two questions. First, the why of it is easy. There’s a need. I had the resources, and I couldn’t think of a better group of people to help than those who served our country and risked their lives for us. For those people who want to question how I spend my money, I would tell them to pony up their own funding and spend it however they want. I won’t say a word about it.”
The young woman persisted. “But is something like this so small that it can’t really make a huge difference?”
“Have you ever heard the story of the starfish?”
The reporter shook her head.
“My mom used to tell me this story when I was little. A man was walking along a beach on the morning after a big storm. The wind and waves had tossed thousands of starfish up on the beach, where they would perish. Off in the distance, the man saw a small boy walking toward him. Every few steps the boy would pick up something and throw it into the ocean. When he got closer, the man saw he was throwing starfish.”
Joe looked out of the corner of his eye to see if the reporter was still listening. She seemed to be.
“’Excuse me, son,’ the man called. ‘There are too many starfish for you to be able to save them all. There’s too many to make a difference, really.’ The young boy picked up a starfish, threw it back in the water, and said, ‘Made a difference to that one.’”
The reporter looked blankly at Joe. After a moment’s pause, she realized the story was over and said, “Oh, yes, of course.”
Joe turned his head and looked at Sam, who was trailing them out of view of the camera. “But, I’m not the person you should be talking to, anyway. Sam, come here!”
Sam turned to flee, but the camera turned on her and she realized it was too late. She was caught. She reluctantly walked toward Joe.
“This is Sam Staley. She’s really the person who knows what’s going on around here. She’s been the person who has handled everything from the beginning.”
Before she could protest, Joe hustled away from the spotlight, leaving Sam impaled by the lens of the camera, looking daggers at him. He smiled, waved, and hurried away.
AS SOON AS THE PROJECT was complete and all loose ends had been tied into tidy knots, Joe called Sam into his office.
When she walked in, she looked more relaxed than Joe had ever seen her. All was good with the Oasis, and Joe sensed she was likely ready for a new challenge.
“I don’t have to tell you what a job you’ve done for us here. None of this,” Joe waved his hand around the office, but indicated the entire project, “would have been finished. Not to mention on time, on budget, and with a little money left in the kitty. You’ve been a wonder.”
Sam sat quietly.
“I can’t help but wonder if maybe you’re thinking about your next challenge, now. I know how you like to keep busy.”
Again, Sam sat silently.
“I don’t know if you’d ever consider it, but I was wondering if you would consider staying on as Executive Director, or CEO, or whatever you’d like to be called. Absolutely everyone would report to you, definitely including me. I can’t run this place. I’ll just make a mess of it.”
“I’ve been waiting for months for you to ask me. I thought maybe you were calling me in to fire me. But, I’m not that easy. I like to negotiate a little, so you have to answer a question for me, first.”
“Of course. Anything, you know that.”
“It’s been three years. Are you never going to ask me on a date?”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Joe did indeed ask Sam out. He asked her to be his date at the celebratory barbecue marking the successful grand opening of the Oasis. It wasn’t the most romantic start to a relationship, but it was perfect for them. They had spent so many hours together over the previous few years that there was no need for any “getting to know you” kind of dates. They already knew and honestly liked each other.
Scott Mckenzie showed up at the celebration barbecue, too. His right arm was wrapped in a sling and he walked with a limp. When Joe asked him what happened, Scott would only say, “You should see the other fella.” Joe didn’t pursue it any further than that.
The party that day was bittersweet. The group had been so close for so long, but everyone knew that soon people would drift away to other jobs.
Tony Baston brought his daughter Amy, a happy three year old toddler now. She had been just a few weeks old at the first barbecue.
Jenny loved the barbecues for any number of reasons. There were always people who wanted to pet her and tell her what a beautiful girl she was. More importantly, someone always managed to drop a tasty piece of meat whenever she was near.
When the last of the burgers, hot dogs, corn on the cob, potato salad and watermelon had been consumed, Joe stood up and asked for attention.
When everyone had quieted, he said, “This doesn’t have to be our last barbecue, just because we’re done with the Oasis. Most of us will still be right here in Middle Falls. I am planning on continuing the tradition every warm Sunday until the last of you stop showing up for it.”
A small cheer rippled through the crowd.
Sam approached Joe, held his hand and laid her cheek against his shoulder. A bigger cheer came from the crowd, along with a few cries of “About time!”
“More than anything, I want to thank you for helping make our dream come true. Cheers!”
Later that night, when the grills had all been cleaned, the chairs and tables were all folded and put away, and the last of the leftovers had been handed out, Joe, Scott, and Sam sat in the back yard and soaked in the ambience of the setting sun and the bug zapper doing its business.
“You gonna stay a few days?” Joe asked Scott.
“I think I need to. I’ve got a little healing up to do this time.”
“Your place is always ready for you.”
He turned and looked at Sam, who was nestled comfortably beside him. He lowered his voice. “And how ‘bout you? You gonna stay a few days?”
Sam looked at him levelly. “Is that an offer?”
“It is.”
“Let me go get my toothbrush. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
THE Rodrigo Hart Oasis for Veterans was a resounding success. There were occasional issues, of course. On rare occasions, there was a fistfight. Night terrors were not uncommon. There was a brotherhood there, though. Every man who stayed there could relate to exactly what the others were feeling. There was never any need to say, “You know what I mean?” It was an acknowledged fact.
Joe and Sam had hired Abigail Green as one of the counselors. She helped him find several other therapists, who rotated through so each of them had one day on and three days off, but there was someone at the Counseling Center every day. Abigail didn’t remember Joe, of course. She had known him in another lifetime. Still, he had only good feelings toward her. Although she had never accepted him as what he was�
��a man returned from the future—she had set his feet on the path that had led him to this very happy place.
The whole project was so successful that a number of other donors and communities banded together to create their own version of the Oasis. As they did, more starfish were saved and fewer were left on the beach to expire.
There was some worry that the Oasis would fill up with men who moved in and never wanted to move out. Joe and Sam left that up to each individual though, and soon found that they treated the place like what its name implied, an oasis. They would come for a few days, or weeks, or maybe months, but then they would bundle up and catch a bus somewhere else. They always wanted to make room for the next vet who needed a respite from the world.
Although she had been stiff with arthritis for quite some time, Jenny lived with Joe and Sam for another three years. He hadn’t known what age she was when he got her, so he had no idea how old she was now. The red fur on her face had turned gray and she walked with a stiff-legged gait. Every night, they walked her around their neighborhood. Joe and Sam walked behind her, holding hands and listening to her nails click on the sidewalk and watching her magnificent tail cleaning the air as she went.
One night, Joe and Sam stepped off the porch then realized that Jenny was not in front of them. They turned back and saw Jenny standing on the porch, staring longingly at them. She hadn’t moved, but was panting heavily.
“You okay, girl?” Joe asked, but his heart sank. He knew she wasn’t. She never missed an opportunity to walk with them.
They called their neighbor who was a veterinarian and asked if he would make a house call. He did, but by the time he arrived, Jenny was gone. She died peacefully, with Joe stroking her hair and telling her how she was loved. He wrapped her in the comforter from their bed and buried her in the back yard.
Joe said he could never have another dog, and he didn’t, for quite some time. Eventually, of course, he got enough distance from the pain of loss and brought another dog—a chubby little puppy that looked like a barrel with legs—from Debbie’s Shelter into their house, their lives, and their heart. For Christmas, Sam bought Joe a painting she’d had made of Jenny and it sat over his desk forevermore.
When Sam moved in, it was possible the hierarchy in the house might change, but in the end, she slipped comfortably into a new spot, right underneath Allen. He remained king of all he surveyed. Joe, meanwhile, took care of both of them.
The few days that Joe had initially offered Sam, soon became permanent.
Joe wrestled with the idea of whether or not to tell Sam his true life’s story. In the end, he saw bad possibilities down that road, but so few good.
What if I tell her and she looks at me differently? How can I expect her to believe me when I have no real proof. It would be even worse if she said she believed me, but couldn’t. I’m not sure I could believe her if she told me something like that, so how can I expect her to do it?
Joe left that as the only secret between them. When he felt the need to talk to someone about his unusual life, he waited until Scott came through town.
Joe and Sam had already grown to love and respect each other before that first date, so it was a logical step for Joe to ask Sam to marry him before too long. They got married at the duck pond in the Oasis, surrounded by people they loved.
A beautiful baby girl was born to them a little less than a year later. They named her Chandra. She was a perfect baby.
Joe, Sam, and Chandra were a happy family.
The days, weeks, months, and years passed, but did not slip away from them.
They savored every one.
Author’s Note
This is a bittersweet moment for me. At this moment, this is the end of the Middle Falls Time Travel Series. Will it be the end forever? Likely not. I love this world, and I have very much enjoyed writing about the characters who inhabit it. Thomas Weaver, Carrie Copeland, Michael Hollister, et al, are like real people to me. I hate to think about never having a chance to write about them again.
At the same time, I have devoted the entirety of my creative energies to this series for the last year. Six books, almost half a million words, and many stories of redemption and messing things up even when they thought they knew what was coming. For the moment, it feels like I need to stretch my wings a little and write a few different stories I have in my head, begging to get onto the page. I think it’s likely Middle Falls will beckon me home again eventually, though.
In the meantime, if you enjoyed these stories, I hope you’ll be willing to give what I write next a shot, too. The easiest way to do that is to join my New Release List. I only send out an announcement when I publish a new book, and of course, I would never sell your name to anyone. I value your privacy as much as I do my own. Also, if you join, I’ll send you a copy of my book Rock ‘n Roll Heaven for free. You can join here.
Writing Joe’s story was a little different than writing the other Middle Falls books. The first five books in the series focused on the protagonists trying to change their own personal history. Because Joe essentially didn’t have any person history, I wanted him to focus at first on changing exterior events. The lesson for Joe, as it is for many of us, was that we need to improve ourselves first, before we can really help others.
I chose to write about Al-Anon in this book because I have attended many meetings myself, and they helped me tremendously, just as they did Joe. If you are having challenges in dealing with an actively addicted or recovering person, or the residue of dealing with someone like this in the past, I recommend checking out your local Al-Anon group. You will likely find a meeting much like what I described in this book, not to mention caring ears to listen to you.
Also, my sister passed away while I was writing this book. If there’s a tinge of melancholy and sadness in certain parts of the book, that may be the explanation.
Aspects of my real life snuck into the book, as they so often do. The way that Stan Fornowski passed away came from my life. A dear friend of mine, who also happened to be a handyman, passed away just as Stan did in the book. His wife told me that when she looked outside and saw the water running from the hose into the street that something was wrong, because her husband would have never wasted water like that.
Also, Jenny and Allen were very much real pets. Jenny was my beloved pup, and everything I wrote about her in this book reflected the truth of her life. She had a friendly woof when she saw someone she liked, she constantly had one ear up and one down, and sadly, she passed away just as Jenny did in this book. Allen was my wife Dawn’s much-loved cat who was alive when I was first courting her in the late 70s. I think I write these scenes to help purge sad memories from my own mind by sharing them with you. Thank you for accepting them.
Finally, John Lennon was a hero of mine. If I woke up in Joe’s situation, the first thing I would want to do would be to fly to New York to be at the Dakota on December 8, 1980. Losing John was a watershed moment for those of us (and we number in the millions) who loved him. I don’t know if you noticed as you were reading, but I purposefully never mentioned the name of the man with the gun. He committed his horrible act with the aim of becoming famous. I will not assist him in that goal.
As she has done on so many of my books, Linda Boulanger from Treasure Line Books created my cover. As always, as soon as I saw it, I knew it was perfect for Joe’s story.
Dan Hilton served as editor again on this book. He is incredibly easy to work with, a skillful wordsmith, and makes me look like a better writer than I am. What more could I ask for?
Debra Galvin and Mark Sturgess were my dual proofreaders once again. I’ve praised them and their sharp-eyed catches of my mistakes so often that I flounder looking for new ways to do so. Suffice it to say that they will be my proofreaders as long as they wish to be.
My friend and fellow author Jean Joachim lives in New York City and I relied on her native expertise on the section of where Joe visits New York. I hate it when an author gets small details
wrong about a specific place, and Jean helped me avoid that as much as possible. All remaining errors are mine alone.
Finally, I’d like to thank my friend Ian McDonald. He and I have been friends for nearly forty years now. I thought I was a pretty big Beatles fan until I met Ian. That gave me perspective. Ian was kind enough to read over the John Lennon section and help me improve it. By the way, Ian and I were roommates living just south of Seattle on the day John Lennon was killed. Many of our friends knew what huge fans we were and showed up at our apartment for a vigil that night. We turned out all the lights, lit all the candles we had, and played John’s music on the stereo until sunup. It was a somber, quiet night that I will never forget.
Most of all, I want to thank you for reading. Whether you read all, some, or only this book in the Middle Falls series, you are the reason I wrote them.
Shawn Inmon
Seaview, Washington
July, 2018
The author at Strawberry Fields, dreaming of writing this book.
Other Books by Shawn Inmon
The Unusual Second Life of Thomas Weaver – Book one of the Middle Falls Time Travel Series. Thomas Weaver led a wasted life, but divine intervention gives him a chance to do it all over again. What would you do, if you could do it all again?
The Redemption of Michael Hollister — Book two of the Middle Falls Time Travel Series. Michael Hollister was evil in Thomas Weaver’s story. Is it possible for a murderer to find true redemption?
The Death and Life of Dominick Davidner – Book Three of the Middle Falls Time Travel Series. When Dominick is murdered, he awakens back in his eight year old body with one thought: how to find Emily, the love of his life.
