Susan sighed and took one last look at the stone. She let her mind drift to the weeks and months ahead until her mother brought her back to the here and now.
"What are you thinking?" Elizabeth asked.
Susan turned to face her questioner.
"I'm thinking about what I'm going to do with my life."
"You'll do what all widows do, dear. You'll move on."
"You make it sound easy," Susan said.
"It's not. It's rather difficult, in fact," Elizabeth said. She placed a hand on Susan's shoulder. "When your father died, I didn't know what I would do either. I had hobbies and activities, of course. I had friends. I had you and Amanda. But I didn't have a purpose. Your father had been my 'purpose' for so many years, I didn't know even where to look to find a new one."
"You managed though."
"Yes, I managed."
Susan took a breath.
"Do you miss Dad?"
"That's a silly question," Elizabeth said.
"Is it? I know you two had problems."
"Every married couple has problems. Don't think they don't."
"I know every couple has difficulties, Mom, but not every wife has to deal with an adulterous husband. At least you didn't have to deal with that."
"But I did," Elizabeth said.
Susan stared at her mother like she was a stranger and not someone she had known her entire life. She could not believe what she had just heard.
"What?" Susan asked.
"You heard me. We have more in common than you think."
"Are you telling me that Dad cheated on you?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you," Elizabeth said. She took Susan's hand. "I'll tell you more on the way back to the car. Let's go."
A few minutes later, as the two walked across the richly landscaped grounds toward the Lexus they had left outside the cemetery gates, Susan resumed the conversation. She had used the silent time to form questions in her mind.
"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?" Susan asked.
"I didn't tell you because it was none of your business," Elizabeth said. "Would you have shared the news of Bruce's infidelity with Amanda had she not learned of it on her own?"
Susan sighed.
"I don't know."
"I know. You wouldn't have said a thing. You would have suffered in silence and let your daughter continue believing that her father was the greatest thing since microwave popcorn."
"You're probably right," Susan said.
"I know I'm right," Elizabeth replied.
"When did this happen? When did Dad cheat on you?"
Elizabeth stopped walking. She looked away for a moment and then gazed at Susan with eyes that reflected sadness, wistfulness, and perhaps some regret.
"He strayed shortly after we lost your brother."
Susan's mind raced to June 1, 1978, the day she had been pulled out of a fourth-grade English class and informed that Jason Campbell, 16, had been killed while driving to school. The high school sophomore had been her only sibling.
"That makes no sense. I remember how we came together after Jason's death," Susan said. "I remember Dad spending more time with me and taking a greater interest in my life."
"You recall correctly. He did all those things and more," Elizabeth said. "What you probably don't recall is the severe depression your father battled in the months that followed. He put on a brave face for a long time, but he couldn't keep it on."
"I still don't understand. Why did he cheat on you?"
Elizabeth clasped her daughter's hand.
"He betrayed me because he was dealing with a lot more than grief. He was dealing with my inability to have another child – a replacement child, if you will."
"You tried to have a baby when I was ten?" Susan asked.
"I most certainly did. I did not want to bear a child in my forties, for all the obvious reasons, but I did want to please your father. When I couldn't conceive, he found comfort in the arms of a younger woman, a woman who presumably could conceive."
"You're not saying I have another sibling, are you?"
"No. I'm just saying that your father was driven to procreate. Grief causes many people to act in ways they normally wouldn't," Elizabeth said. She resumed walking. "Calvin Campbell was one of those people."
Susan took a moment to digest what her mother had said. She had idolized her father and found the revelation that he had cheated on his wife and daughter unsettling.
"How long did the affair go on?"
"It lasted three months. Your father owned up to his misdeeds and sought counseling. When I saw that he was serious about saving our marriage, I decided to give him a second chance. To my knowledge, he never betrayed me again."
Susan stopped walking. She turned toward Elizabeth and gave her a hug.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I know now how difficult that must have been."
"I got through it. That's what matters."
Susan released her mother and looked upon her with new admiration.
"This certainly explains your skepticism of Bruce and maybe even of men in general," Susan said. "A lot of things make sense now."
Elizabeth laughed sadly.
"We women sometimes expect too much of our men and forget they are as weak and fallible as anyone," Elizabeth said. "I loved your father and don't regret staying with him. In spite of his many flaws, he was a good husband and a good father. I think you would agree with that."
"I would."
Susan smiled at Elizabeth and then looked over her shoulder at a group of ash trees in the distance. Unlike many others in northern Illinois, the trees had survived a serious beetle infestation. Like Elizabeth Campbell and Susan Peterson, they were survivors.
"You're thinking again," Elizabeth said.
"I am," Susan replied. "But I'm not thinking about the future. I know I'll be fine. I'll certainly be OK financially. Bruce may have broken his vow to remain faithful, but he didn't break his promise to take care of me. I'm thinking of giving at least half of his assets to charity. I don't need them and would frankly feel better if something good came out of all this."
"If you're not thinking about the future, then what are you thinking about?"
Susan sighed.
"I'm thinking about how much the two of us have in common and how life seems to test us when we least expect it," Susan said. "We're a couple of tough old birds."
"Yes, we are."
"I'm also thinking about the trip to Santa Barbara. Do you still want to go?"
"I do," Elizabeth said. "I want to go now more than ever. We could all use a break and a change of scenery. I would go even if you and Amanda did not."
Susan smiled and hugged her mother again.
"That settles it then. California, here we come!"
CHAPTER 3: AMANDA
Santa Barbara, California – Monday, September 5, 2016
Amanda set her umbrella drink to the side, leaned back in a padded pool chair, and closed her eyes. She knew the Pacific Winds Resort and Spa wasn't the most relaxing venue on America's Riviera, but it was pretty damn close. It was the perfect place to put a troubling summer in her rear-view mirror and start thinking about a promising fall.
Amanda opened her eyes to the sound of a scream and saw a couple frolicking in the jungle pool, a palm-and-fern-lined tank that dominated the hotel's courtyard. When she was convinced the frat boy posed no threat to his bikini bimbo, she turned her attention to Elizabeth.
The septuagenarian reclined in a chair at Amanda's right. She greeted the sun as she usually greeted it: in a white pantsuit, a floppy hat, and supersize sunglasses.
"Thanks, Grandma," Amanda said. "Thanks for bringing us here."
"You're welcome, dear," Elizabeth replied. She looked closely at her granddaughter and put a hand on her arm. "How are you feeling today?"
"I'm doing better. At least my stomach's doing better."
"That's good to hear."
Amanda cringed as she thought about
how the trip had started. Thanks to some dicey deep-fried scallops she had ordered from a beachside vendor, she had spent her first evening in Santa Barbara wrapped around a hotel-room toilet.
"Are you up for a big dinner tonight?" Susan asked.
Amanda looked to her left.
"I think so."
"That's good. Grandma and I would like to try the Thai restaurant across the street. There's also the steakhouse next door, if you want to avoid spicy food."
"As long as you keep me away from fish, I'll be fine."
Elizabeth and Susan laughed.
"Do you have a preference?" Susan asked.
Amanda heard her mother's question but did not respond. She had already drifted off to her thinking room where she pondered dead dads, extramarital affairs, and entry-level positions at foreign-policy think tanks.
The dead dad needed no explanation. Amanda missed her father. She missed him so much that she found it almost impossible to think about anything else.
Amanda was mad at him, of course. She could not believe he had cheated on a wife who loved him more than life itself. He had cheated on all of them and done so in a way that would leave permanent marks.
Yet when Amanda reviewed the events of the past few months, she felt more sadness than anger. Bruce Peterson had been the most important man in her life. He had been a friend, a mentor, and a loving father. Even loving fathers, however, were no good when they were dead.
Amanda made a note to visit his grave before she left for her job in D.C. If she did nothing else, she wanted to say goodbye one last time and perhaps find a measure of peace.
As for the job, Amanda could not wait to begin. She would soon start down a road that could lead to many exciting career possibilities, including research, teaching, journalism, and even diplomacy. At least one of her instructors at the University of Illinois had used the think tank, the Foundation for Foreign Relations, as a springboard to a diplomatic career. He was now an assistant to the U.S. Ambassador to Italy.
Amanda sighed. She began to think of diplomatic assignments to sunny countries when her mother rephrased a question that had gone unanswered.
"Amanda? Do you care where we eat dinner?" Susan asked.
"Let's go to the Thai place," Amanda said.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive."
"What about after dinner?" Susan asked. "What would you like to do tonight?"
"I vote for cocktails and more pool time," Amanda said.
Susan looked past her daughter to her mother.
"Mom? How about you? What do you want to do?"
Elizabeth lowered a tourist magazine she had been reading.
"I'd like to attend the lecture at seven," Elizabeth said.
"What lecture?" Amanda asked.
"Geoffrey Bell is giving a lecture on time travel in the hotel's auditorium."
"Who is Geoffrey Bell?"
"He's a local professor," Elizabeth said. "The desk clerk I spoke to this morning told me that his lectures are quite popular."
"We're on vacation, Grandma. People don't attend lectures on vacation, particularly in places like Santa Barbara."
"I do," Elizabeth said. "I think a lecture on a topic like time travel would be stimulating – certainly more stimulating than those old goats who were flirting with me in the lobby today."
Susan laughed.
"Men don't flirt after age seventy, Mom. They slobber."
"I'm afraid I must agree," Elizabeth said dryly. "In any case, I'd like to go to this lecture – and I'd prefer to go with my family. This is, after all, a family vacation."
"It is, indeed," Susan said with obvious amusement.
Amanda smiled. She knew her grandmother dropped the "F-word" only when she was losing ground in a family discussion and wanted to get her way.
"You're shameless, Grandma."
"I prefer to think of myself as pragmatic," Elizabeth said. She paused for a moment and then looked at Amanda. "I'll tell you what. If this professor bores you to tears, I'll treat you to cocktails afterward and maybe even that male revue in the Lompoc Lounge."
Amanda smiled and shook her head.
"You never cease to amaze."
"Does that mean you'll join me?" Elizabeth asked.
"Yes," Amanda said. "It means I'll join you."
Elizabeth looked at her daughter.
"Susan?"
Susan returned her mother's gaze and tilted her head.
"You really want to go?"
"Yes," Elizabeth said. "I really want to go."
Susan smiled.
"I guess that settles it then. It's time for a blast to the past."
CHAPTER 4: ELIZABETH
The woman who had recently told a friend she "had seen it all" in her seventy-eight years admitted to herself she had never seen anything like Geoffrey Bell, at least not in real life. The man on the stage was no boring academic. He was a movie star, a larger-than-life presence who stimulated her senses – or at least the ones that could be stimulated from the eighth row of the Pacific Winds Auditorium.
Elizabeth smiled as she assessed the lively lecturer. With unruly blond hair, wild eyes, and a devilish smirk, Bell looked like Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka. With a biting wit, a debater's command of facts, and an engaging voice, he sounded like him too.
Elizabeth looked at Susan, who sat at her left, and then at Amanda, who sat at her right. She could see from their faces that they, too, were enjoying the show, which was part of a weeklong symposium sponsored by a software company. She tapped Amanda's knee.
"Do you still think lectures and vacations are incompatible?" Elizabeth asked.
Amanda turned her head. She flashed a sheepish grin.
"No. You were right," Amanda said. "This is interesting. This guy is good."
"Yes, he is."
Elizabeth returned her attention to the narrow stage, where Bell pranced back and forth and waved his arms like a Southern Baptist preacher. She didn't know if she subscribed to the professor's time-travel theories, but she conceded that his arguments were compelling.
"Just out of curiosity, how many of you folks have seen Back to the Future?" Bell asked as he stepped toward his audience. "Let's see a show of hands."
More than ninety percent of the hundred or so people in attendance raised a hand. Most of those who didn't appeared to be under ten years of age.
"That's what I thought," Bell said. "Let me ask another question. How many of you believe it is possible to travel back in time in a DeLorean?"
No one raised a hand.
"How about a spaceship that goes super-duper fast?"
Four teenage boys in the front row threw up their arms and waved them wildly.
Bell smiled at the boys.
"Thank you for the show of support, gentlemen. You can put your arms down."
The audience laughed.
"I like seeing believers and optimists in my audiences, but I can hardly fault those of you who didn't raise a hand," Bell said. "You are right to be skeptical. People don't just hop into cars or spaceships and travel to the past."
Bell returned to his lectern.
"That is not to say that time travel is solely the product of vivid imaginations. Though it is true that scientists demonstrated years ago that a single photon cannot travel faster than the speed of light – thus 'proving' that time travel is 'impossible' – it is also true that our understanding of physics and the world around us is limited. There are powers that we are only now beginning to grasp, including supernatural powers that may someday do for modern science what electricity did for previous generations."
Elizabeth scanned several faces in the crowd and saw that Bell had opened some minds if not won a few converts. Approving nods had replaced skeptical laughter.
The Oxford-educated professor continued to entertain, engage, and inspire his audience for another hour. He finished his presentation at eight fifteen, took a dozen questions, and then asked those in attendance to complete a short qu
estionnaire that two assistants distributed.
Elizabeth looked at the form and saw that it asked three questions. She considered the first question and pondered an answer when she noticed Susan get up from her seat.
"Where do you think you're going?" Elizabeth asked.
"I'm going to the lounge," Susan said. "Didn't you say you would treat us to drinks and strippers after the lecture?"
"I said I would treat you only if Professor Bell bored you to tears. Since clearly he did not, I have no choice but to pull drinks and strippers off the table."
Amanda laughed.
"You should have been a lawyer, Grams."
"I should have. I certainly learned enough from my lawyer husband to know when to hedge my bets," Elizabeth said. "Why don't you stick around a while? I'd like to meet the professor."
Elizabeth glanced at the front of the auditorium and saw that many others had the same idea. More than twenty people crowded around Bell and pestered him for pictures, autographs, and presumably more information on the topic of time travel.
"I think you can handle him by yourself," Amanda said. "I'm with Mom on this one. I'd like to hit the lounge now, even if the boy toys have finished for the night."
Amanda rose from her seat and looked at Susan.
"Are you ready, Mother?"
"I was ready ten minutes ago," Susan said.
Amanda put her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder.
"Excuse me, Grandma."
Amanda stepped around Elizabeth and joined Susan in the aisle. She turned to look back at her grandmother just as a scowl began to form on the old woman's face.
"We'll save you a seat, Grams. If the strippers are still performing, I'll come back and get you myself," Amanda said. She smiled. "Don't stick around too long."
"I'll do what I please, young lady," Elizabeth said defiantly. She lifted her nose. "I will speak to the professor if I have to wait all night."
CHAPTER 5: SUSAN
By the time Susan and Amanda entered the Lompoc Lounge, the five strippers known as the Leather Boys had come and gone. Susan didn't mind. She wanted to talk to her daughter far more than she wanted to watch buff young men take their clothes off.
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