by Dana Roquet
I realized that I knew the man, or I should say that I recognized him anyway. He was Dr. Jacob Krout and he had been a doctor in Fremont for more than forty-three years. He currently looked young and I guessed that he was probably in his early to mid-thirties. I’ve seen several photographs of him in regional history books and also photo’s that others have added to his online Findagrave memorial. He is buried in Cedar with his family and his wife Mary Alice or “Allie” as she had been known, had been a daughter of Fremont pioneer William Dinsmore.
Dr. Krout continued to quietly listen to my heart as I studied his completely ordinary face but I was struck by the kindness in his light blue eyes.
“Try to take a deep breath, Mahala,” he requested. “And another—good.”
He smiled warmly at me and then he removed the stethoscope from my chest, and removed the earpieces from his ears, letting the instrument dangle about his neck before he buttoned my gown up again.
“I will be making the rounds to see your sister Ivy when I leave here,” he said by way of making small talk. “She and Joshua are sure looking forward to that little one. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen a couple more anxious for a child in all of my years.”
The doctor chuckled softly and looked from me to some point at his right and woozy from the deep breaths that I had taken, I carefully turned my head in that direction and became aware that someone was holding my left hand when I felt it being squeezed and then I saw that my great-great-grandma Rose was sitting at my left side in a straight-backed chair.
“We’re all looking forward to that new little grand baby,” Rose said while patting my hand and she smiled at me lovingly. “I think Mahala is more anxious than anyone. So how is your family, Dr. Krout; Allie and little Erma?”
“Everyone’s just dandy. Erma will be going on ten years next month,” he said proudly.
The doctor looked back to me and smiled. “I will stop again tomorrow to see how you’re coming along,” he assured me while taking his stethoscope from his neck and placing it into a medical bag that he lifted from the floor and placed upon his lap. He fastened the latch of the bag and looked back at me, squeezing my free hand briefly in farewell as he rose to go.
“I’ll see you out, Doctor,” Rose offered politely.
“I can see myself out, Rose, please don’t bother,” he said as he paused to pat her shoulder gently before walking to the door and turning back with his hand on the knob, bowing slightly. “Until tomorrow, ladies.”
Rose turned her attention back to me as the bedroom door closed softy after him and I noticed then that she had a Bible open upon her lap. She lifted from her chair and scooted it, turning it in a little closer toward me so that I could easily look into her face before she settled herself again and began reading to me from the Bible. I have no idea what chapter the passage was from because the good book isn’t one of those on my book shelves at home. I haven’t cracked a Bible since I was confirmed at the age of thirteen. Rose finished the brief passage and then lifted my hand and leaning down, brought my hand to her lips and kissed the back gently.
“Mahala, you’re the light of my life, sweetheart, I hope that you know that. I love you so very much, precious. We’ll read and we’ll pray every day until you are fully restored to health. I have faith in our Lord God and you need to have faith in Him and believe.”
“I do Mother, and I will,” I agreed and then had a thought. “Mother, what day is it?”
“Friday, April 10th,” she said with a puzzled frown. “Why?”
“What year?” I asked. I was almost certain that I knew already because the doctor had mentioned Ivy being anxious to deliver Katie, but I just wanted to have it confirmed.
She looked at me as though fearing I was having a fit or something. She leaned forward and placed her cool palm against my forehead gently, obviously searching for a fever before answering me.
“Why it’s eighteen and ninety-one, sweet. You know that.”
I smiled faintly but I felt as if the world were wobbling on its axis and lights began shimmering at the edge of my vision again and I feared that I might black out as my heart fluttered madly in my chest from the shock because I knew that Mahala Wyman would die on April 11th, 1891.
I have her obituary at home that I had taken from the Fremont Gazette and it contains a poem that I have memorized. It was credited in the text of the obituary as being written by my Grandma Rose and just a few days from this time warp.
One chair is vacant in our home
Dear Mahala no more is there
Oh, how we miss her smiling face
We miss her everywhere.
She suffered long here below
In this world of sin and pain
Although we miss her very much
Our loss is but her gain
She left us here to weep and mourn-
She has crossed to that heavenly shore,
Where sickness, sorrow, pain and death,
Are not and feared no more.
We mourn for our departed one
Why, we cannot tell;
Her absence darkens our old home,
She has gone to Heaven to dwell.
I had an overwhelming sense of sudden panic set in because I know, only too well, that I have no control over how long a time warp will last. Might I still be here until the next time warp day or will I warp out of here before her death. I don’t know what time of the day Mahala died and I wondered fearfully, Could I be in her body when she dies tomorrow and if so, is there a possibility that I might die in the real world? These time warps had suddenly become deadly serious.
***
I came awake with a sudden jolt and when my eyes popped open, my first sight was Dave’s face beside me, inches away and sharing my pillow. He was gazing at me and the warm sunlight was spilling upon his face as he smiled at me sweetly.
“Good morning, love. I’ve been watching you sleep,” he confessed, lifting a hand and reaching out to smooth a strand of my bangs off of my forehead.
“I was warping, not sleeping,” I said quietly and then the warp came back to me all at once. “Dave,” I blurted and then all in a rush. “I’m afraid! I’m afraid that these warps aren’t going to end until something bad happens to one of us.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked with a frown of concern.
I snuggled up close beside him, shivering with the delayed reaction of what I’d just lived and then laying with my head in the hollow of his shoulder and wrapped within his strong, sheltering arms, I related what I had just experienced in Mahala’s room. He listened thoughtfully to everything but when I had finished, he immediately dismissed it.
“You didn’t die though, you came back,” he said confidently.
“But I wasn’t dying during the warp, Dave. I left before the next day happened but what if she would have died? We don’t know what this is; maybe I could have died there and just simply passed away in my sleep and you wouldn’t have known anything about what had happened to me there.”
“It isn’t real, Torie,” he began but then rubbing my back as if to warm me as a shiver of nerves ran through me again, he continued. “No I don’t mean that—because it is real, but we haven’t had anything happen there that has fed through to us here, except for the physical items you’ve brought back, but that has been completely intentional on your part.”
“I don’t want to stay here at night anymore, Dave. You don’t understand—”
“Sweetheart, let’s go take a long, hot shower together and then we can get dressed and go for breakfast at the diner and talk about it more a little later,” he suggested. “After you’ve had some time to decompress and think it through, it’ll seem different. It always affects us strongly when we first wake up. What do you say?”
Just then I heard the click of nails on hardwood and lifted my head to see Shadow lope into the bedroom, obviously having heard our voices. Shadow was all teeth, lolling tongue, and doggy smiles as he rounded the bed
to my side and next thing I knew he had his front paws up on the bed and his cold wet nose was sniffing and snuffling the back of my neck. I tried to squirm away but still held tight within Dave’s arms, I was at Shadow’s mercy.
I screamed, and Dave chuckled, egging him on as he continued to hold me in restraint.
“Good boy, Shadow! Let’s get this sleepyhead out of bed. Nothing like a cold nose and a tongue in your ear to start your day off right, huh, Torie?” he asked and laughed, tickling my hipbones while Shadow jumped up onto the bed to join in the fun.
“Dave! Shadow! You idiots,” I shrieked as Dave finally released me and I scrambled over his body, heedless of where my knees and elbows landed in my haste to flee and an unintended knee in the gut caused a pained “Oof!” to escape from Dave as I left the two of them behind me and bolted for the door, heading for the bathroom.
I looked back as I passed from the room and smiled at the sight of Dave giving Shadow a big bear hug as the huge dog collapsed onto his master’s chest, and then he began treating Dave to a good share of slobbering kisses all of his own, while Dave jerked his head this way and that upon the pillow, trying to avoid some of the more intrusive ones aimed at his nostrils, ears and grinning mouth.
“How’s my big boy, huh? How’s my boy?” Dave asked him in his silly and cutest ever dog voice—you know, that special voice that people always seem to change to whenever they’re talking to animals or little babies.
Chapter 32
I turned the handle and opened the front door while Dave stood out on the porch keeping tabs on Shadow, who’d bolted past me and was busy doing his business on the front yard.
“Come on, Shadow! Hurry up! We’ve got a football game to watch. Let’s—go—Hawks!” Dave hooted, as if his enthusiastic cheerleading would speed up nature’s call.
I closed the door on them to keep the chill out and dropped the house keys into a blue and white footed Staffordshire ceramic bowl atop the antique oak sideboard just inside the dining room as I passed by it.
I heard Dave open the front door as I was pushing through the swinging door and propping it open, continuing on into the kitchen where I was headed in order to start a pot of coffee for myself. I was feeling the need for another cup, even though I’d had two cups at the diner as we had enjoyed our leisurely brunch.
After I had the coffee going, I opened my laptop and leaned against the center island while I logged on to check my emails and amid all of the spam and Facebook status information for my author’s page, I had an email from a familiar address and smiled, thinking that a note from Claire was sure to brighten my day, until I read the subject line and I opened the email quickly as my heart started to pound.
September 8, 2012
From: Claire
To: Torie Mills
Subject: From Claire’s Mom
Dear Torie,
Our dear, sweet Claire passed to her final reward this morning at approximately 2:00 a.m. while peacefully asleep. The paramedics and her doctor, who responded to our emergency calls and arrived within minutes, told us that she hadn’t suffered but had simply slipped quietly away. We were not expecting her death so soon or so suddenly. We’d hoped to have her with us at least through Christmas and we feel cruelly cheated because we thought that we still had time but God had other plans for his newest angel and I am at peace knowing that her years of suffering are at an end. No child’s’ life should follow such a painful and tragic path.
Meeting you in Chicago last month was truly one of the highlights of Claire’s young life and she’d talked about that day constantly ever since and because of that afternoon spent with you, she had been looking forward to and thinking about the future again and setting a goal for herself, to become a writer like you one day. I want to thank you for giving her that spark that she needed to look outside her struggles and to start thinking about life’s possibilities.
The services for Claire will be held at the United Brethren Church at 801 Merced St. in Downer’s Grove’s, IL, on Tuesday, September 11, 2012, at 2:00 p.m. I wanted to give you this information but please feel no obligation to attend; however should you decide to, you would be most welcome.
I found Claire when I awoke in the night and upon seeing a light coming from her bedroom had gone to investigate and had entered to find that the light was coming from her computer that was resting on her nightstand beside her and still on. She had apparently been working on writing an email to you and had set it aside, dropping off to sleep before she could finish. I’m sending that email to you separately but wanted you to know the circumstances, from me, before I sent it on.
Thank you for caring about our beloved daughter and for the generous donation to the Make-A-Wish Foundation in the form of payment for her poem, which will go a long way toward making other ill children’s wishes come true.
I met with the lawyer from your representative’s firm just last Thursday to finalize the court documents for The Neumann Mills 2012 Charity Trust. This is another achievement that Claire was so very excited about and proud of, as she tells you in the email that will follow.
Sincerest regards and best wishes to you Torie, for your continued success,
Claire’s dad and mom,
Bill and Marilyn Neumann
I couldn’t speak when Dave came into the kitchen upon hearing my sobs. He had me in his arms and just held me tight as I sobbed brokenly into his chest.
“Claire died,” I finally managed to croak after a few minutes.
He was still holding me, but I knew that he was looking over my head and reading a portion of the email.
“Oh, Torie, I’m so sorry, honey. I know how much you cared for her.”
“Dave, can we go to her funeral in Chicago on Tuesday?”
“Of course we can. I’ll run up and get us a flight scheduled on the upstairs computer right now. Are you going to be okay?”
I reached for a tissue from the box near the sink and wiped my eyes, nodding to him even though another sob was racking me.
As Dave hurried upstairs, I took out my cell phone that still had the photo of Claire, Jimmy, and me as the background and dialed Marilyn’s phone number.
“Hello?” It was Claire’s dad.
“Bill, this is Torie Mills, and I don’t want to bother your family at this time, but I wanted to let you know that I’ll be at the funeral on Tuesday and to let you know that I’m so very sorry for your families loss.”
“Torie, thank you. Here, Claire’s mom would like to speak with you.”
“Torie?”
“Hi, Marilyn, I don’t want to bother you, but I needed to give you my heartfelt sympathy and to tell you that I will see you on Tuesday,” I blubbered. “She was such a wonderful young woman, Marilyn. You should be so very proud of her.”
“Thank you so much and I think that Claire would appreciate your being here, Torie. Let’s be sure that we connect at the funeral because we’ll be having a dinner afterward and I would be so happy if you could join us. We can talk more about that when I see you on Tuesday. Do you need us to pick you up or at least arrange a ride for you from the airport?”
“No, Marilyn,” I assured her through my tears, amazed that she was thinking of my transportation needs at a time like this. “I’ve got it handled. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
“Thank you for calling, Torie. Good-bye.”
As I hung up my phone, I had to get through another wave of tears and then I brought my computer with me and went out into the dining room, taking a seat at the table. I sat in a chair, staring at the unopened envelope that was waiting for me, with my mouse hovering over it, terrified to touch it as if it were some kind of explosive device, my dread warring with my desire to read her final message to me, if only I could muster up the courage to open it.
Dave trotting down the stairs drew my attention and he came into the room and rounded the table, placing a kiss on the crown of my head while laying the flight confirmation and hotel reservation before me.
“Thank you, honey. I just need to get up the courage to read the email she was writing to me last night before she passed away.”
“Do you want me to read it first? Or read it to you?” he offered.
I shook my head. “No, I’ll do it. Go ahead and turn on the game. You’re missing it.”
He kissed my forehead and then did as I’d asked, leaving me alone in the dining room to read the email while he went out to the front room to watch the Hawkeye football game.
***
September 7, 2012
From: Claire
To: Torie Mills
Subject: First Two Chapters
Dear Torie,
I have started Shanna and am to the part where they are arriving at her island home and she doesn’t know yet that Ruark is still alive. I love it! You were right about all of the detail. It’s really good.
I couldn’t wait, and I read the two chapters of your new book practically as soon as you emailed them to me. It is wonderful! Of course! I can already see that Nathan and Amanda are going to have a wonderful love story and I couldn’t agree more about the poem. It fits perfectly! It’s really a lot like Amanda, you know, the way that she loves all living things—if you know what I mean. I’m feeling kinda goofy tonight, like I’ve had too much sugar or something.
If you want to change her name to Claire, Torie—I would be very happy about that. It will give me a little bit of immortality, you know? Even if not though, just having my poem published in your book, which is sure to be a best-seller, and knowing that millions of people will read my poem is very cool!