by Bess McBride
Annie gasped at his words and dropped her face into her hands. She sobbed. “Noooo. I’m too late! I’m too late! Why would I come too late? What was the point of all of this? I’m too late! Oh, please don’t say that.”
A warm pair of arms enveloped her. Annie cried against the doctor’s shoulder.
“Shhh, there, there now,” he said soothingly. “Don’t cry, Annie. Don’t cry. All is not lost. We cannot know the future.”
Annie pushed away from him, her face soaked with tears. “I can! I know the future. I am the future! I come from the future. I know when they will die, and I came back in time to prevent it.”
Dr. Mallory pulled back, not quickly as if in shock, but slowly, perhaps to not frighten her. He was a doctor, after all. He must have seen and heard a lot in his time. He rested his elbows on his chair arms and clasped his hands together. She didn’t think he was praying. His deep breath suggested he was thinking.
Hearing her words again, Annie realized she must have decided that if things went terribly wrong—that was, she was escorted to a hospital mental ward—she would initiate what she hoped would return her to the future: a spoken or silent yet fervent wish that she go home. Depending on what Dr. Mallory did over the next few minutes, Annie would either start chanting “Please, please, please, I want to go home” or she would close her eyes, wish with all her might and refuse to let go of the chair arms.
“I hardly know what to say, Annie,” Dr. Mallory finally said. His expression was almost sympathetic.
Annie thought she knew which direction his thoughts were headed. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out, Doc, but I’m running out of time, if I haven’t already. I have no resources. I can’t stop this alone, and I need someone’s help. Belinda won’t accept my warnings, and why should she? What proof can I give her?”
Dr. Mallory’s next question took her by surprise.
“Did you say you came from Washington State, Annie?”
She nodded.
“Do you have immediate family there? Someone with whom you live? Parents? Siblings?”
Annie shook her head. Nope, she knew where that line of questioning was headed. “I live alone. My parents both passed. I am a book editor. I am not crazy. I am in love with a man who is probably very worried about me right now and to whom I would like to return. I have seen Belinda’s death certificate as well as Teddie’s.”
Blue eyes blinked at her. “May I see them?”
“They didn’t travel through time with me. Only what was on my person, my clothes. I wish I had some proof for you, for Belinda and Monroe. Then I could just kiss everyone on the cheek and sail back to my time...if I can get back there.”
He studied her face, and she tried to look rational, to meet his eyes steadily.
“How do you think you traveled through time?”
“I have no idea. I was doing family research. A distant cousin of mine, with whom I corresponded recently, related an oral family history that Belinda and Teddie would die of typhoid fever from tainted ice cream. I requested copies of Belinda’s and Teddie’s death certificates. When I received them, I saw the proof. I was so moved, so sad at the tragedy, that I wished and wished I could go back in time and warn them. And here I am, sort of against my will, but not. I wished it. I imagined it would be easier to convince Belinda to avoid dairy products—you know, in case the typhoid originated with some other form of dairy—but without proof, I’m stuck.”
“You know the exact dates of their deaths?”
Annie nodded. “I don’t remember the time, but I do remember the dates. I think Belinda dies at home, but I’m not sure about Teddie. I believe he was taken to a hospital the day his mother died.” Annie’s voice broke. It wasn’t really ancestral history anymore. The details were heartbreakingly real and about to happen to people she cared for.
Dr. Mallory looked over his left shoulder at something on the wall. Annie leaned forward to see that it was a wall calendar.
“Belinda sickens to the point of requiring care by a physician on November 20, is that correct? Do you remember the doctor’s name on the death certificate?”
Annie furrowed her forehead and visualized the certificate. It was no use. She shook her head.
“I can’t. I wish I could. I normally study these sorts of documents thoroughly, but I hadn’t had it for long. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I am the Sellers’ family doctor. I probably would have been the one to see them.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t remember.”
Dr. Mallory looked down at his hands, and Annie gave him time to think.
He finally raised his head with a troubled expression. “I cannot call the public health department without evidence of typhoid fever, of Salmonella typhi. I simply can’t. Once someone is infected, they will be notified, and they will trace the source of the outbreak and stop production and sale of tainted goods as well as identify and quarantine the person or persons spreading the bacteria.
“Not everyone dies from typhoid fever, thank goodness, but some certainly do. At any rate, all medical people in the county are notified when there is an outbreak. I have received no such notification. I will, of course, contact them and make inquiries. I simply do not know what you can hope to achieve at a dairy farm. Unless you are a skilled biologist, I do not know how you can test all their products, much less receive permission to do so.”
“What if I tell them that there will be a typhoid outbreak, that it will come from the ice cream that is sold at Goodie’s Drugstore? I asked Belinda, and she said that she has taken the kids there for ice cream in the past, the last time about two weeks ago.”
He tilted his head and gave her a sympathetic look. Did he believe her, or was he just humoring her?
“They have no cause to believe you, no proof.”
Annie knew he was right. “I just hoped I could convince them to test some samples of their products, especially the ice cream.”
“Only the public health department would do that, and they won’t without proof either.”
“What do I do?” she asked, her palms open in a plea.
“I don’t think there is anything you can do other than what you have tried to do already, convince the Sellers to avoid dairy products.”
“Forever? I can’t tell them to quit dairy products forever! They have a baby. I need some kind of timeline, a date when they can buy milk or eat ice cream!”
Dr. Mallory drew his brows together, clearly thinking. “I was interested to hear that they have not eaten ice cream in two weeks. That’s promising. It means they may not yet be infected, though the timeline toward diagnosable illness seems short.”
“Then I’m not too late?”
“If they ate ice cream two weeks ago and are not yet showing signs of illness, then that ice cream was not infected. I am certain of it.”
Annie breathed. “What do I do going forward from here?”
“What if you were to convince them to purchase their ice cream elsewhere, supplied by a different dairy? I can make inquiries about obtaining vaccines from the army to preclude any future infections. Your...arrival here is an excellent reminder to me that I should have been pursuing that avenue.”
Annie imagined a scenario in which she told Belinda to make sure she bought milk and dairy from other sources. She doubted it would go over well. Belinda was done talking to her about it. Still, she had to try.
“I have one other idea,” he said, eyeing her with a speculative expression.
“What’s that?”
“Tell Belinda and Monroe what you told me. Tell them the truth. Belinda introduced you as a cousin. Surely you can ask them to suspend disbelief on the strength of that relationship?”
Annie closed her eyes and breathed against the fear gripping her throat. “Belinda is my second great-grandmother. Claire is my great-grandmother, and I knew her when I was a child.” She opened her eyes.
Dr. Mallory sat back with a wide smile. “How absolutely marvelous! Then so
much more than a cousin! How wonderful!”
“Not if I can’t save their lives.”
His smile faded. “Yes, of course. It is no wonder that you are so dogged in your efforts to save them. If there could be an explanation for your travel through time, the strength of that familial bond would explain it.”
“Then you believe me?”
He nodded. “I cannot believe that I am saying this, but yes, I believe you.”
Annie stared at him, a million thoughts running through her mind, none of them helpful or practical.
“What do you think of my suggestion?” he prompted.
“That I tell Belinda and Monroe the truth? They’d never believe me.”
“But I believe you. Why wouldn’t they?”
Annie looked down at her fidgeting fingers. “Well, I only blurted the truth out to you accidentally. You’ve got to imagine that I’m pretty worried someone is going to carry me off to a mental institution. Somehow, I don’t think Belinda or Monroe are going to be as open minded as you.”
“Open minded?” he repeated with a chuckle. “I suppose that comes from practicing medicine. I have seen many things that cannot be explained.”
Annie sighed. “I just don’t know, Dr. Mallory. I’ve lost some credibility with Belinda. I’ve pushed her on the subject too much, and I made a scene in Goodie’s Drugstore. She’s not super happy with me right now.”
“What happened?”
“Well, we went in there, and I saw a young man scooping ice cream, and I knew that’s where Belinda gets her ice cream, and I sort of insinuated to a customer and her soon-to-be sobbing little boy that the ice cream might be tainted.”
His eyes widened. “You don’t say!”
“I do say. In fact, what I said to the customer was something like, ‘Don’t get ice cream from here. It could be tainted with typhoid.’ So that didn’t go well with the customer, the little boy, the ice cream guy, Jerry, Mr. Goodie himself and Belinda. Mr. Goodie was pretty upset, and he and Belinda exchanged a few words. Then she exchanged some with me when we got outside.”
The doctor’s jaw hung open. His expression said it all.
“Yup, you look just like the ice cream guy. He was pretty shocked too. So was the lady I warned. I imagine Belinda and Monroe will feel the same. And Belinda may think I’m just trying a new tactic. As you know, I told her that my grandmother had died of typhoid. She thinks I’m hypersensitive to the subject.”
“However, to the point, that lady and her child did not eat the ice cream at Goodie’s, did they?”
Annie looked at him, her eyes filling. “Not today, that’s for sure. Maybe never again at Goodie’s.”
“Those are two lives potentially saved.”
Chapter Eight
Annie’s cheeks flamed at the implied praise. “Oh gosh, I’m sure Mr. Goodie isn’t happy about that. If that lady repeated anything that I said in the store, his reputation would suffer, just like you said would happen.”
“The deed is done. It would behoove Mr. Goodie to ask the public health department to test his products and then provide him with some documentation as to their safety. I certainly would if I were trying to preserve my business.”
“I agree. But you don’t think I can initiate something like that? A visit to the health department myself?”
“You could, of course, but I doubt that it will do you any good at all. They would not accept your report of ‘possible’ typhoid infection, nor would they accept your report as medically sound since you are not a public health official or physician.”
“You’re right,” Annie conceded. “Of course you’re right. That would be true in my time as well.”
“That brings us back to disclosure by you of the truth.”
Annie swallowed. Before she could answer, he asked another question.
“Regardless of the outcome, is it your plan to return to your own time? Is that something you can will on demand?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. I have a life there. I can’t leave it. I don’t want to leave it.”
“And you believe you traveled back in time simply by wishing to warn your second great-grandmother of danger?”
“I do.”
“Then to reverse the process, would you not make a similarly impassioned wish to return home?”
“Believe me, Dr. Mallory, I’ve been brainstorming that very issue. I hope that’s my way back.”
“There is a catch in your voice. You mentioned a man who loves you? Does someone await you? A husband perhaps?” His eyes dropped to her left hand.
“I’m not married, but yes, I do have someone who is probably already anxious about my disappearance. Thank goodness there were no signs of violence in my house, but I’m sure he will have called the police. Beyond that, I have a job, a home, a life and access to antibiotics, the right to vote, to own a car, have a checking account and a whole bunch of other stuff that makes my life easier.”
Dr. Mallory seemed to be in a constant state of surprise. Annie enjoyed startling him in some perverse way.
“I do not think I caught all that you said, but did you say antibiotics?”
Annie nodded. “1928—all you have to do is wait until 1928. They’ll create penicillin, and it will kill a whole lot of bacteria.”
“How marvelous,” he said. “How wonderful! It seems as if things are vastly different in your time...in medicine, regarding women.”
“They are,” Annie said smugly, though a large part of her brain warned her there were no guarantees she could return, that she might have just left those hard-won rights behind.
“I would enjoy hearing more about your time, but I do not know if we shall have opportunity. According to the timeline you set forth, it is imperative that you convince Belinda—and Monroe, for that matter—to avoid ice cream, especially from Goodie’s Drugstore, if that is where they shop. I ask you again to consider disclosing all to them. I think that must be the only way.”
Annie felt a wave of futility wash over her. She truly didn’t think she could convince her second great-grandmother to avoid treating the children with ice cream on her word alone. She studied the doctor speculatively.
“Would you come with me while I speak to them?”
Dr. Mallory stared at her with that surprised expression of his—blue eyes wide, brown eyebrows raised, jaw slightly agape. He didn’t answer right away, and Annie held her breath, begging him with the intensity of her gaze. Time kept passing, and Annie gripped her laced fingers tightly. Finally, she couldn’t wait any longer.
“Is that a no?”
He shook his head, and her heart fell.
“No, not at all. I was imagining the scenario in which you share your experience with the Sellers and how I might be helpful to that discussion.”
“I have no chance of convincing them without you, at least not Belinda. I haven’t spent much time with Monroe, but I don’t know. I need your...gravitas. If you believe me, then it’s more likely that Belinda and Monroe will believe me, that they will believe I have traveled through time to warn then of their imminent deaths.”
“I understand what you have said. I do have to consider my reputation as a serious physician—that very gravitas of which you speak—and the possible damage to it should I be seen promoting the fantastical notion of time travel. There is the chance that the Sellers will throw me out of the house, perhaps both of us, and tell their neighbors that we are crackpots, quite out of our minds.”
Annie started to protest, but the doctor continued.
“I am willing to risk such an event, but I cannot help wonder about the larger picture. Are you concerned at all about the implications of interfering with fate, with matters that might well affect the future? For instance, what becomes of your great-grandmother, Claire, as a result of her mother’s early death? Do you know?”
Annie nodded. “I do. She leaves home, moves to New York and takes a job as an actress, marries at sixteen and is pregnant by seventeen. It’s likel
y she was pregnant when she married. She’s thirteen now. That’s only three years away. Her maternal grandmother, Monroe’s mother, comes to take care of the children for about ten years, but she’s in her sixties and will have her hands full with two toddler boys.
“I don’t wonder that Claire left home so young. She may have rebelled about taking care of the children. I don’t know. I didn’t know her history when she was alive and only discovered, by paperwork through genealogy, how young she was when she married. She lied about her age on her marriage certificate, stating that she was eighteen. I don’t see any harm in interfering with the past in this case. None.” Annie stopped short and gasped.
Dr. Mallory nodded. “I see that we are thinking about the same thing. If Claire does not marry young, your particular grandmother may never come to be, nor your mother...nor you. Are you willing to risk that?”
Annie closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She spoke slowly, thinking through the dilemma.
“I was sent back through time, that much is clear. It has to be to warn Belinda of the danger to herself and Teddie, perhaps the other children as well. I don’t know if they sickened, but they didn’t die. There’s no other reason for me to be here, so yes, I guess I’m willing to risk what you describe. I don’t have any other choice. I have to do something!”
“I will support you when you decide to speak to Belinda and Monroe. When do you wish to do that?”
“Tonight. I think the kids will be in bed by eight. Is that too late? Do you know where they live?”
“I know where they live. I will arrive promptly at eight.” He rose, and Annie stood with him. She grabbed his hand and shook it.
“Thank you, thank you!”
“I am not sure I will be of much use to you, but I will try.”
“You will...you will!” Annie grinned and followed him to the office door. He opened it for her, and she stepped through, hesitating when she saw a man sitting on a bench in the foyer.
“Jack!” Dr. Mallory said. “I did not hear the bell.”
The balding fifty-something man rose, his hand clutching his stomach. Dressed in soiled overalls and a jacket with straw hanging off one of the sleeves, he looked as if he had just come off the farm, literally.
