An Altered Course

by R A Carter-Squire

  Heather had been smiling until then, looking excited and happy. When he said the words “too late”, her face went ashen and sagged.

  “What do you mean, too late? Are you seeing another woman?” Her face reddened with anger; her eyes reflected a darker shade of green. The effect seemed to make her hair turn the color of flames. Before he could calm her down with the truth, she gasped. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

  “No, no, no, nothing like that. Listen, I can’t tell you anything at the moment except that this project we’re working on and something that happened a long time ago are more important than my personal relationships. You need to trust me; I’m not married or anything else. This has nothing to do with you.” For some reason, he found himself pleading for their future. Losing her was no longer an option.

  Her face became less intense, and her eyes went back to their natural green shade...slowly. She reached for the wine glass without taking her eyes off him. After taking a sip, she held it in her hand with her elbow resting on the table.

  “I suppose I can trust you, but if you think I’m going to roll over and accept what you say without some more information, you better think again. I’ve waited all my life to be with you and nothing, no matter how secret or life-threatening is going to keep me away. Especially something life-threatening,” she added as she set the glass back on the table.

  He looked at her face, that lovely face. There was no way he could go back in time, risking his life without telling her the whole truth. “I’ll tell you after we’ve eaten. In fact, I’ll take you back to my place and show you.” His hand went to hers in a gesture of hope and pleading. She gave him a weak smile and picked up another skewer.

  They ate quickly, skipping dessert, both needing to get to his house for different reasons. The drive out of the city to Michael’s place took thirty minutes, time he used to tell her about his life and how he’d become successful. She didn’t seem interested, staring out the window at the passing houses and businesses. Occasionally, she would make a noise, which he took to be her way of showing interest in his story. After shutting off the engine, he leaped out to open the door for her. She seemed pleased with his manners at least, smiling up at him and offering her hand in a mock debutante fashion.

  Inside the house, he took her coat and led her down the hall by the hand. He didn’t notice her rapid breathing or the sweat breaking out on her hand as they neared the bedroom door. He did recognize the gasp of surprise when he flipped on the light.

  “This is my home lab,” he announced with pride and turned to see the disappointment on her face. “You didn’t think we were going to...” he pointed across the hall knowing instantly that she had been hoping for something more intimate.

  “Oh no, that was the furthest thing from my mind,” she quickly replied, trying to sound innocent. “I just don’t understand what this has to do with why we can’t be more serious in our relationship.”

  Michael pulled out a chair from the corner for her and sat at the desk. He gave her the short version of Joe’s disappearance. She listened, but he could see she still didn’t understand. His fingers tapped the computer keys and then moved the monitor so she could see the screen before he told her to watch.

  She saw the images of a strange kitchen appear, but in the end, she was still puzzled.

  “So, what has seeing a man, in what I can only assume is a kitchen, got to do with anything?”

  “That man is my father as he appeared in 1957. I sent a mug and camera back in time to that day in my house.” He watched her face waiting for a reaction, some indication that she grasped the significance of his words. At last, her brows arched.

  Michael continued. “What I want to do is go back to the day my best friend disappeared and find out what happened to him. I’ve got the technology, and almost everything’s in place. Until I’m finished with the current project, I haven’t got time to devote to this or to you.” His words spilled out in a rush of relief and anxiety. He desperately wanted her to understand.

  “You’re going back in time?”

  He nodded.

  “I thought that was impossible.”

  “There are laws of physics that say we can’t move through time, but I’ve cracked the problem. With this equipment, I’m almost certain that I can go back and find out what happened and return safely. There are a few glitches that need fixing first, but I’ll be fine.”

  “Uh, huh.” She frowned. “So I assume one of the glitches is what happens to you if you get stuck back then.”

  “Well, that’s not really a problem. The biggest problem is being able to move around and communicate with this computer, but I think I’ve figured that out, too. Never mind how this is all going to work, just trust me that on the day I go, everything will be perfect,” he smiled. She smiled back, but the uncertainty still showed in her eyes.

  “I don’t understand your need to find out what happened to your friend. He’s gone, and you’ve moved on to a new and wonderful life. How will knowing his fate change anything?”

  He looked down, remembering the day thirty years ago. His guilt rose in his throat while tears welled in his eyes.

  “Most families back then were hard-working middle-class, but still thrifty after the lean war years. Some lost husbands and fathers during the Korean War; Joe’s dad being one of them. The boy was only three when it ended, so he didn’t remember his father. His mother worked two jobs to keep food on the table; fortunately, there was just the two of them. The VA insurance had paid off the house mortgage, but the other bills seemed to keep piling up, she’d always say. I abandoned my best friend, and he disappeared. It’s my fault. I should have stayed there, and he’d be fine today.” He saw the confusion in her eyes. “Whatever happened to Joe was my fault. I was the one he and Billy looked up to. I made the decisions and could have told him to wait until the next day, but I didn’t. I abandoned him the same as everyone else in his life.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, Michael awoke but didn’t open his eyes as he stretched. He felt better, more rested than he had in years. Images from the night before played across the inside of his eyelids and then he yawned.

  He sat up and looked at the left side of the bed. The pillow was dented as if someone had slept there but was vacant now. They’d started kissing last night in the computer room after he’d unveiled his plan. Her mouth was warm and hungry. He grinned, remembering what came next.

  They abandoned their inhibitions, and within seconds, they were tearing at each other’s clothes. He tried to carry Heather here to the bedroom, but he stumbled and started to laugh. Reality wasn’t as sexy as the movies.

  Their first love-making session had been quick, frantic, and definitely not his best effort, but she sighed when they were done. He’d held her close, listening to her breathing. The smell of her perfume rose up from the pillow next to him. Her passion surprised him. He was drifting off to sleep when her hands began roaming over his body.

  The second time, he’d taken it slowly, been more focused on her pleasure. He could still feel her body shudder as she climaxed. Their pleasure so intense that they were both wiped out by the end. Her head nuzzled into his shoulder as they relaxed. The warmth of her body and her slow breathing lulling him to sleep.

  He heard a noise in the kitchen followed by a “Damn!” Flipping back the covers, he pulled his robe off the back of the closet door and put it on. The kitchen was a room he rarely used unless there was a party. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten at home.

  His bare feet made little noise on the hardwood floor, and he stopped next to the table. Heather was standing in front of the stove with her back to him. She had on one of his shirts, but he could tell there was nothing underneath. The smell of frying bacon filled the room as he watched her crack eggs into the pan. Where the food came from didn’t cross his mind then. He waited until she was done with the eggs before speaking so as not to frighten her.

  “Good morning,�
� he greeted her lightly, moving toward the coffee pot. She jumped and let out a tiny shriek of surprise. He poured a cup of coffee and looked for hers.

  “I’m wonderful,” she said, keeping watch on the eggs. “How did you sleep?” Her grin was crooked, and there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

  “Fine. Thanks to you that was the best sleep I’ve had in years.” He moved close and kissed her cheek. She dropped the spatula and kissed his mouth. There was a slight flavor of toothpaste on her lips, and he realized he hadn’t brushed yet.

  “How do you like your eggs?”

  “Hot,” he smiled. “As long as they don’t drip I’m happy. By the way, where did the food come from?”

  “Grab a couple of plates and we can eat. I called a grocery store and had them deliver. The guy looked surprised when I answered the door dressed like this,” she chuckled.

  He reached into a nearby cupboard and pulled out two plates. She dished out the bacon and eggs, handing him one of the plates and turned to sit at the table. He watched the shirt slide up her thighs. For a second, he wanted to forget the eggs and repeat the night before but decided he needed to eat instead.

  The first mouthful seemed to energize him as if someone had plugged his body into a wall socket. He moved the fork between mouth and plate as quickly and neatly as his manners allowed. Until he finished everything, Heather was forgotten.

  “Oh, that was sooo good, Miss Sykes.” He leaned forward to kiss her. “I’d ask for more, but I’m afraid that might be construed as sexual harassment.” He gave her his best sly grin.

  She licked her lips seductively, gazing at his crotch. “You can have more of whatever you want, Mr. Eldridge.” Her fingers clasped the buttons on the shirt and began to open each in turn. Three buttons down and he was panting like a dog. She stopped and stood up. Reaching forward, he thought she was going for his robe, but she picked up his plate and set them in the sink. When she turned back to him, the shirt was completely open.

  “Dessert is my pleasure, Mr. Eldridge. Would you follow me, please?” She moved sensuously down the hall, her body smooth and luscious. His heart and mind reacted to this moment as if he were a teenager again. Damn, he thought, for somebody who didn’t want a relationship yesterday, I’m sure willing to rut like a dog now. He saw her lovely ass turn into the bedroom and a second later, his shirt fell back out the door. His feet moved just a little faster.

  Michael arrived outside Central Park Manor at one o’clock and went straight to his father’s room. Robert Eldridge was sitting in his chair, head back, mouth open, seemingly asleep. He was dressed in a faded pair of white and blue plaid pants, a dark blue dress shirt under a faded brown cardigan with worn brown slippers on his feet.

  A wry smile crossed Michael’s face. He wished his father had better fashion sense and wondered why the nurses weren’t more helpful. His mind decided that they likely didn’t care. There wasn’t time to worry about that now.

  “Dad, it’s me, Michael. Are you ready to go?” His father snorted awake and sat forward.

  “Michael, oh yeah, I’m ready. Help me out of this chair, and oh damn, I don’t have my shoes on yet. They’re over there on the other side of the bed. Fetch them for me, please, and just let the nurses’ station know we’re going out while I put on my shoes.” His hands trembled as they patted at his head and fumbled nervously with the buttons on the sweater.

  Michael put the shoes in front of his father. There was only one person at the station when he stepped up to the counter. The woman was dressed in a tailored business suit.

  “Hi, I’m Michael Eldridge.”

  “Oh, Mr. Eldridge. I’m Gloria Thera, the managing director. How can I help you?”

  “I’m taking my father out for the weekend. Actually, I won’t be bringing him back until Tuesday at the earliest.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You can’t do that. There are rules for taking a family member out of the facility. They’re on a schedule, and a doctor has to authorize any extended outing. He doesn’t have approval for that length of stay away from the facility. You’ll need Dr. Caraway’s permission.” She’d taken two steps back as the words spluttered out of her mouth.

  “Is he in the building?” Michael’s temper was rising with his impatience, but he kept his words under control.

  “No,” she snapped, stretching her neck trying to elevate her authority by looking down her nose at him. “He’s gone for the weekend.”

  “So, you’re telling me that my father doesn’t have the right to come and go as he pleases?”

  “He can do anything he likes within the rules,” she barked. “We aren’t holding him prisoner.”

  He wanted to reach across the counter and wrap his hands around her throat but decided his life would be easier having his dad live somewhere else.

  “Please ensure my father’s things are packed and ready to move out on Tuesday when I return. He won’t need the room any longer. Is there any medication he needs that I can take with me?”

  She fumbled in the filing cabinet and pulled out one slim folder before laying it on the desk. Michael saw his father’s name across the top. The woman flipped through several pages and studied the one she’d stopped on before looking up at him.

  “He’s taking a blood thinner and a beta blocker. He’ll be able to travel but can’t get too excited, or he might have another stroke. I will get you his meds for now, and we’ll have everything else packed by the time you return,” she sneered, hunching over the file like a troll. Michael turned and went back into his father’s room.

  Robert was struggling to stand, so he helped stabilize him and then pulled open the closet searching for a jacket. There were only a single shirt and a pair of dress pants hanging on a wire hanger inside the closet, but no coat.

  Breathe, Michael, relax. You can get Dad a new wardrobe in New York. He’ll probably be happier with a new set of clothes anyway.

  “Let’s go, Dad. I’m taking you to New York.” He held his father’s arm gently as they walked out of the building.

  The Cadillac at the curb seemed nearly as big as the house where Michael grew up. His Dad made approving noises and then touched all the dials and buttons inside.

  “This yours?” he wanted to know, as Michael sat behind the wheel.

  “Yep, all mine. The plane we’re taking to the Big Apple is mine, too.”

  “You must be doing pretty well with that computer fad.”

  “Not bad. We do a lot of work for the government and for the Space Agency.” He’d told his father this before, but understood what a stroke could do with a person’s memory.

  “Space, we should never have started that race with the Russians. Can’t have a race anyway if one side doesn’t play by the rules.” His tone was grumpy, but Michael knew he was busting a gut proud of his son. “When are you going to get married and start a family? This foolishness with computers can’t last. You need to get into banking or insurance. You’d be good at selling insurance. My brother-in-law Bernie, in Pittsburgh, made a decent living. Put his two kids through college and bought a new car every year.”

  “I do all right, Dad. This car is paid for and so are my house and the plane. If you add that all up, I’m probably worth a few dollars more than Uncle Bernie.” He smiled, and his father smiled back. They went through the same conversation every time they were together. Dad ragging his son about being a success; son constantly saying he was a success, but not wanting to brag.

  Michael pulled the car up to the hangar, turned off the ignition, and went around to the passenger side. When his dad was out of the car, they moved slowly toward the boarding stairs beside the private jet. The surrounding blacktop intensified the heat of the day.

  “This yours?” Robert Eldridge demanded at the bottom of the steps.

  “Yes, Dad, this is mine. We’re going to New York, remember? I bet Uncle Bernie never had his own jet.” Reminding his father that he was richer than Uncle Bernie wa
s becoming enjoyable and bordering on bragging.

  “Damn right he never had a jet. I’ve never flown in a private plane. I bet my son could have his own plane if he used his head. Help me up these steps, young fella, and we can take off. The other passengers are probably hopping mad about being kept waiting.”

  Until that minute, Michael had never considered the possibility that a stroke could cause dementia. He’d heard the illness affected elderly people, but never believed the disease would attack his dad. The worst part would be if his father deteriorated to the point of forgetting his son. The old man was always joking and saying crazy things, but you could tell he was kidding. This didn’t feel like one of those times; his gut sensed this was more serious.

  Wearing jeans and a dress shirt, Sam was standing just inside the hatch, smiling and waiting for the senior Eldridge to come up the ladder. He reached out to shake hands and help if need be.

  “Who the hell are you? Where’s the pilot, isn’t he supposed to be standing here?”

  Sam’s smile never faltered, but he glanced at Michael before responding.

  “I am the pilot, sir. We don’t wear uniforms on private aircraft.”

  “Private plane you say? I thought we were going commercial. Seems kind of funny my son didn’t tell me about this. He should be here to see me flying in style. What’s your name, sonny?”

  “Sam, my name is Sam, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Eldridge.” The old man’s hand was pale and blue as he reached to shake with the pilot. Michael shrugged and rolled his eyes before guiding his father to a seat in the middle of the cabin.