by Nancy Moser
She took a step back into the waiting arms of her mother. “You’re talking like a madman.”
Oh, yes, indeed. A madman. That’s what he was. He ran to his car and drove away. He was assailed by its new smell. Repulsed by how much it had meant to him. He would drive it off a cliff himself if it meant he didn’t have to know this awful truth.
A car honked. He’d missed a stop sign. He was speeding.
Speeding toward what?
He pulled to the curb and shut off the car. He had to calm down and think. If only I didn’t have to think. It hurts to think. It hurts to know.
He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel. “Enough! I have only an hour to decide whether I want to stay or go back. Be logical. Think it through.”
He forced himself to take some deep breaths and was relieved his chest no longer hurt. Wouldn’t that have been laughable? To have a heart attack and get stuck in 1958 forever?
But would that be so bad?
A little girl came down the sidewalk on roller skates. Roller skates, not Rollerblades; the kind worn over shoes and tightened with a key. She wore a dress and saddle shoes.
A milk truck pulled across the street, and the milkman tipped his cap to David when he got out. He took two glass bottles of milk to the back door, put them in a milk box, and retrieved two empties.
It was a simpler time. Innocent. A better time? The calm before the storm of an assassinated president, Vietnam, civil unrest, shuttle disasters, and 9/11. There was so much history to suffer through. Why would he ever choose to do it again?
He closed his eyes, blocking out this time and place. What if he did stay here? What would he be leaving behind?
The first time around, when he’d thought Millie had died, he’d found comfort from Ray—and comforted Ray. His father-in-law-never-to-be had decided to ignore that technicality and had taken him into the business as a son. David had found great satisfaction turning Mariner Construction into a mega-corporation. If he stayed here and started over, would he be able to duplicate that same success? There was no grief to bond him and Millie’s father. There was no guarantee he’d even have a job.
And yet… wouldn’t that be exciting? To truly start over fresh? Over the years he had occasionally wondered what he would have done if he hadn’t teamed up with Ray. But it was a risk. Though he’d be the first to ring his own bell, if he stayed here, he might not rise to his former height. And would he be content as a middle-class business owner, struggling to make the payroll each week? So much of his identity was enmeshed with what he did.
That’s because you didn’t have a family.
Ah. Family. Why hadn’t he ever settled down? Sure, there had been a few women, but never a relationship. He’d always held back, content to mourn Millie.
“She’s alive!” His words echoed through the car.
Back in the future Millie was alive! She’d been alive these forty-some years, living another life with a man with curly red hair. Was there a Tracy Osgood alive and well and living in…
He had the sudden urge to find her. Demand to know—
Know what? Right here in 1958 he’d discovered why she’d gone to such lengths. “I picked out her wedding dress.”
At the sound of his own words, he cringed. It just wasn’t done. Not in 1958. Not ever. What had he been thinking? Sure, Ray had condoned it, even egged him on. But that didn’t make it right. Two controlling men, controlling their women. Being too involved.
A snicker escaped. After Millie’s “death,” Rhonda had found her freedom, too, though in a less dramatic way. Soon after the crash she’d divorced Ray. It had been a totally uncharacteristic act of gumption. But now, knowing the plan, it made sense. Rhonda was in on it. Rhonda knew where Millie-Tracy was going to live. So for the past four decades, they’d been having the last laugh on the men in their lives. Living free. Being happy.
He leaned his head back but found his usual Mercedes headrest missing. He’d made fun of Rhonda’s desire for happiness, and yet… had he been happy the first time around? He’d found success. He’d found recognition. He’d found wealth. But happiness? Purpose?
He covered his face in his hands, ashamed at what he’d ignored. How could he have lived an entire life seeking what didn’t matter and ignoring what did? What a waste of time.
Time!
He looked at his watch. When the Dual Consciousness had first come upon him, he hadn’t checked the time, so he had no clear idea of how much of the hour he had left.
He pressed his fingers against his temples. “Concentrate!”
What were the rules? If he wanted to go back to the future, he needed to focus on it, and an hour after the Dual Consciousness kicked in, his own mind would lead him back. He would awake in the Sphere.
But if he wanted to stay in the past, all he had to do was continue on. The Dual Consciousness would fade, and he would forget about the future life that once was but would be no more. He would live life fresh and new from this point on.
Fresh and new. That was appealing.
Without Millie. That was not.
He felt out of control and didn’t like the feeling.
Good.
He blinked at the thought. Good?
Then suddenly, David suffered a shiver, and with it a knowing that he was not alone. There was another power at work here. One he had ignored too long.
Oh God, help me.
Had he just prayed? Had the great David Stancowsky finally realized that he was not in control?
How ironic to come into the past in order to be broken. In the future he’d never felt like this, had never felt out of control. He’d wrapped his entire being around the memory of Millie and the quest to make the business great. But what had it gotten him? A life of loneliness and possessions. All in all, quite pitiful.
Look at what you have. Here.
If he stayed here, he would be alone. He might not even have a job. A man with no connections. No loyalties.
Dina’s voice rang in his head. “I’m very loyal to those I respect and admire.” There was more implied than business loyalty. The cake, the neck massage, the other comments… Plus, she’d come to the door of his home, worried about him.
She cares for me!
He pulled a breath through his teeth. Dina Edmonds. His secretary in the future was his secretary in 1958. She’d been with him all these years. She’d never married. Had she cared for him all that time? Had she been waiting for him to notice her beyond duty? Had she spent her life pining for him as he had pined for Millie? How tragic for both of them.
A wave of regret nearly drowned him. Had he made her suffer all this time? She was the epitome of loyalty, all right. And he was the epitome of blindness.
He’d known Dina Edmonds her entire adult life. He knew the kind of woman she was. Had become. And here she was in 1958, close by, young and eager. And willing to love him if only he let her. Could he love her back? Was this possibility of love enough to start a life?
He laughed at the thought of it. He started the car and headed toward the offices of Mariner Construction. Though it went against his very nature and made little sense, he was going to let someone else make his decision for him.
But he had to hurry.
“Good morning, Mr. Stancowsky,” Dina said.
He had no time for small talk. He placed his arms on her desk and leaned toward her. “I’ve sensed that you’re attracted to me, Dina.”
She blushed. “Sir, I…”
He realized he’d omitted an important fact. “Millie and I are no longer engaged. No longer dating.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“Are you?”
She fumbled for words. He stopped her efforts with a raised hand. “I know I’m being presumptuous and forward, but trust me, I have my reason
s and time is of the essence. I just need to know if you’re interested in me as a man.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Uh. Yes?”
“You didn’t sound very positive.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes. I am interested in you, David. As a man.”
He stood. “Good. Because I like you, too. And I think we should go out to dinner tonight. To get to know each other better.”
She put a hand to her lips, stifling a laugh. “I don’t understand what brought this on, but I’d love to go to dinner with you.”
He made another decision. He shut off her adding machine, then went around the side of her desk and extended a hand. “Let’s make it brunch.”
Eighteen
Understanding is a fountain of life to those who have it,
but folly brings punishment to fools.
Proverbs 16:22
Present-Day Kansas City
You can sit over here, Mrs. Lopez.”
“Thank you, Mr. MacMillan.” Brandy took a seat on the perimeter of what they called the Sphere. It was like being inside a huge ball and was painted blue so it looked like the sky. It reminded her of a ride at Epcot. And seemed just as unreal.
She looked across the room at Lane. She was in a hospital bed with a curved contraption wrapped around the top portion of her head. Tubes and monitors kept her alive while she was mentally in 1987. Oh yeah. This was Epcot-ish, all right.
Directly across the Sphere, sitting along the opposite edge, was an elderly woman. She was Dina Edmonds, the secretary to Stancowsky. To Brandy’s left sat the Caldwell family—the husband and a daughter. The grandfather who’d made a fool of himself with the press was absent. Poor man. Brandy had gotten to meet the other three for a few minutes right before they’d all come inside to take up their waiting positions. They were an odd bunch, instantly bonded by the desire to see their loved ones again.
Loved ones. Though the world had only seen Dina acting as Stancowsky’s secretary, her feelings were obviously deeper. Maybe that was natural after working together for decades. It wasn’t anything the woman had said, but there was a level of concern that showed in her eyes and in the way she couldn’t sit still.
Brandy felt sorry for the Caldwells. They didn’t just have a friend at stake, they had a wife and mother. Yet certainly Vanessa Caldwell would be coming back. Brandy couldn’t imagine ever choosing to leave her own family forever and ever. A few days was hard enough.
She watched the doctors and technicians hover around the three sleeping winners. Alexander MacMillan and some other bossy man hovered, flitting from one to the other, getting updates. Brandy and the others had been told there was no set time for the Dual Consciousness to wear off. They’d been told to be patient.
Not Brandy’s strong suit. But she’d do it. For Lane she’d do anything.
Come back to me, Laney-girl. Please come back. I miss you so—
“She’s waking up!”
Brandy popped to her feet as people converged on Lane. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to go closer but didn’t wait to be asked.
“Not too close,” said the bossy one, barring her way.
Mr. MacMillan took her hand. “It won’t be long now.”
Lane stirred, her body moving in short spasms as if it was waking up one nerve ending at a time. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Come on, Laney-girl, you can do it,” Brandy whispered. Mr. MacMillan smiled, but the bossy guy gave her a dirty look.
Lane opened her eyes once, then closed them. Brandy gasped. “No! Wake up!”
Mr. MacMillan patted her hand. “She’s fine. Just give her a minute.”
After a few more attempts, Lane opened her eyes for real and left them open. Yes! Brandy began to cry. She hugged Mr. MacMillan. “She’s back! She’s back!”
The doctor and nurse talked quietly to Lane and took her vitals. Brandy couldn’t hear what was being said but felt her heart burst with excitement. The doctor gave a thumbs-up. Oh yeah. It’s a thumbs-up, all right!
In no time at all, Lane was helped to sitting. She dangled her feet over the side of the bed. Brandy looked to Mr. MacMillan. “Can I?”
Before he had a chance to answer, Lane saw her and held out her arms. “Brandy…”
Brandy wanted to fling herself at her friend but hugged her gingerly. “Oh, Laney, I’m so glad you’re back. I missed you so much.”
They pulled apart and Lane smiled. “I didn’t miss you. You were with me. With me all the way—as always.”
The doctor stood close. “How are you feeling, Ms. Holloway?”
Lane ran a hand across her forehead where the machine had been. “I feel fine. A bit like I’ve awakened from a long nap, but fine.”
Mr. MacMillan stepped forward. “If you’re up to it… would you ladies like to withdraw to a private room for a bit?”
“Love to.” With help, Lane got off the table and tested her legs. Brandy was right there supporting her.
The bossy guy came close. “There will be a debriefing soon. And then a press conference tomorrow.”
Mr. MacMillan seemed to ignore the man, giving his full attention to the two friends. He gave them a wink and a smile as he led them out of the Sphere. “Don’t worry about that. For now, you have time.”
Lane folded the scrubs into a neat pile after changing into her street clothes in one of the waiting rooms near the Sphere.
“So you don’t know if you got the part of Bess at the Empty Promises audition?” Brandy asked.
“Not for sure. The Dual Consciousness kicked in before I even went to it.”
“But we can assume…”
Lane shook her head. Her memories of the past were vivid, for they truly had just happened yesterday. “I don’t think we can assume anything. As Mr. Dobbins reminded me, auditions aren’t a science. They’re subjective from the judges’ end and iffy on the actor’s end. I was really on when I went to the original audition. Who knows if I would have done as well in Chicago?”
“But surely…” Brandy shrugged her shoulders as she looked at Lane. “I mean, you’re you.”
Lane laughed. “I always appreciate your support, Brand, but I had no clout then. I was just a skinny teenager taking a shot.”
Brandy straddled a chair, leaning against its back. “But if you chose the fame back then and have the fame now, why didn’t you stay? Wouldn’t it be fun to do it all over again?”
Lane realized now more than ever how natural it was to think that the grass was always greener. Natural and dangerous. “It might have been fun. But if this Time Lottery taught me anything, it’s that one choice can change everything. Winning the Bess audition was the first of many steps. The only way I got to this point in my career was to make a series of distinct choices. If I did it over again, chances are I would choose differently at least once, and then I wouldn’t be here.” She took a breath. “Does that make any sense?”
Brandy wriggled her hands by her ears and mimicked the theme to Twilight Zone. “Doo-do-do-do.”
Lane reached over and took Brandy’s hand. “Forget the audition and the fame a moment. One of the reasons I came back was you. After being around your mom again…”
“You saw my mom?”
“In all her glory.”
Brandy looked down. “Oh.”
“I saw how crucial it was to the life you have now with Randy and the kids that you got away from her. Though we didn’t think about it so bluntly at the time, I truly think she would have killed you, Brandy.” When Brandy didn’t respond, Lane feared she’d gone too far. “Hey, I’m sorry. I have no right to—”
Brandy looked up. “You’re right. Following you to Hollywood didn’t just get me a fun job and a new life; it gave me life—period.”
“Of course, we’ll never know for sure.”
“I know.” Brandy patted her heart. “I know.” She stood, whipping the chair around forward. “But you know the best thing about you coming back?”
“What?”
“I don’t have to look for another job!”
Lane loved the way Brandy made her laugh. She stood. “I suppose I should go debrief; do my duty.”
Brandy put a hand on her arm. “Just a minute. There’s something you need to know.”
By the look on Brandy’s face, Lane feared something had happened to Randy or the kids. But no… surely she would have told her that right off. Surely Lane would have read it in her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Toby Bjornson came forward.”
“My Toby?”
“The very one.” Brandy told her about Toby and the media attention, and how the leak had changed everything, climaxing with the shooting.
“A shooting—in my house?”
“I broke a lamp.”
“No, no. I don’t care about the house, but to think he had you in there, by yourself, with a gun. You must have been petrified.”
“Actually, I wasn’t. It was Toby. And though he was desperate, it was a sad desperation more than a dangerous one. I felt sorry for him. I feel sorry for him.” She looked around the room. “I really should call the hospital and check on him.”
No, I should call the hospital. “It’s all my fault.”
“Stop that! The leak caused the problem. In the initial press conference, you had a right to tell the media what seemed best at the time. There was no way for you to know it would go wrong. It wasn’t any of their business if you wanted to go into the past to see Toby or try—”
“No.” Lane turned away. “I’m talking about Toby turning out the way he did, having the life he did. He loved me and I left him. Twice. That is my fault.”
Brandy rubbed her back. “He wasn’t the one for you, Laney-girl. You just proved that. As for the way his life turned out, that’s due to his choices, not yours. Besides, this last week when he chose to step into the limelight—your limelight, I might add—it sounds like he had a good-enough life. He worked construction, had an okay place to live.”