The Silver Screen

by The Silver Screen (retail) (epub)

  Dr. Neil laughed. “No magic wand, but a silver screen.”

  She frowned as a vague whisper of a memory was creeping back into her head. She had been in the bar, and then wandering around the hotel, and then her mind went blank. “Really, what kind of nonsense are you talking about?”

  “Don’t worry yourself, Miss Mitchell. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”

  But she remained confused. “How do you know my name?”

  “Your purse.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Now, the nurse will be in soon to give you a shot, so please relax if you can.”

  Relax, she thought to herself. Who are these lunatics running the infirmary? But she just smiled at Dr. Neil. Her eyes returned to the television as the news was talking about a President called Clinton who managed not to get impeached over an affair with a young girl called Monica Lewinsky. “Who the hell is running the White House?” She managed to mumble. “Roosevelt’s in Office.”

  Then the commentator said, “This year, 1999, 150 million people have home computers. 50 percent in the USA.”

  “Home computers? That’s nuts,” she remarked as the commentator talked on about something called the worldwide web, the internet.

  A young nurse’s aide entered to check if she was comfortable when Margaret asked, “What is the internet?”

  “Oh, I don’t have a computer either, but it connects everybody all over the globe so we can talk to each other.”

  Margaret just stared at the girl. She didn’t have words.

  Then the show turned to entertainment and the commentator was talking about Star Wars.

  “Have you seen Star Wars?” She asked the young girl who fluffed her pillow.

  “Oh, yes. I’m a big fan of Star Wars. I just about grew up

  on it.”

  Suddenly the commentator was interrupted with something called a news alert. Flashing across the screen was long lost original manuscript sequel to Gone with the Wind discovered during renovation at Grauman’s Chinese Theater. News at 11:00. Stunned, Margaret Mitchell’s mind ran wild. Did Fred Raymond lie to her? Was it really 1999? What in damnation was going on?

  Before she could even begin to reason with all that, Dr. Neil returned with a mature nurse. “Miss Mitchell, this is Nurse Evans. She will give you a shot and when you wake up you will be back home in your time.”

  As Nurse Evans gave her a shot, Dr. Neil smiled at her. “Forgive me, but I am a big fan of your book. My grandmother went to the premier in Atlanta in 1939. She just loved it.”

  Margaret tried to tell him the premier hadn’t happened yet, but the shot was already flooding into her body, making speaking just beyond her reach. However, she managed to smile as her eyes began to flutter, the last words that she heard from Dr. Neil were, “Miss Mitchell, it’s been a pleasure. Rest now. You’ll be home and all will be well.” And that’s the last thing she heard as she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  When Margaret Mitchell opened her eyes next, she was laying on the sofa in Fred Raymond’s reception area. A cold compress was on her head. Mildred sat beside her as Fred Raymond stood a few feet away. Her first conscious thought was her head was going to break in two from a hangover, the likes of which she had never experienced. Mustering all the strength she could and moistening her lips she said, “Where in the hell do you people buy your bourbon? I think I may die from this hangover and I drink men under the table.”

  “Now, now,” Mildred said kindly. “You’re going to be all right.”

  “Miss Mitchell, we are so glad to have found you. It seems you got lost in one of the utility closets. Our sincere apologies. We never leave them unlocked.” Fred Raymond looked at Margaret with sincere distress.

  “What time is it?” She asked.

  “It’s about seven o’clock,” Mildred replied.

  “Oh, no. It can’t be. I just stopped in for a drink.” And then she stopped talking as an odd memory that seemed to make its way drifting into her thoughts. “I had . . . I had the most incredible dream. I time traveled. Can you imagine?”

  No one spoke. “Well, you’re here with us now. Can we call your friends so they don’t worry about you?” Mildred asked.

  “Yes, please. They must think that I fell off a cliff.” And in an afterthought to herself she added, Maybe I did.

  They ignored her remark as Mildred went to phone her friends. Fred Raymond insisted on sending her home in the hotel limousine. That was the least they could do.

  A knock on the door brought in Dr. Hendricks and Jack. “Miss Mitchell, I’m Dr. Hendricks and I’m going to give you a little something to ease that headache.”

  “Merciful heavens. Thank you. It is a humdinger.”

  “We prepared a meal to take with you along with the pills and instructions.” Jack set the boxed meal on Mildred’s desk as Fred Raymond signaled for him to get the wheelchair.

  “Miss Mitchell, I’m Jack Baldwin. Let me help you onto the chair.”

  “Oh, hogwash. I can certainly . . .” was all she could say as she attempted to stand and swayed, returning promptly to the sofa. “Oh, dear. Perhaps a little help. Thank you, Mr. Baldwin.”

  They managed to get her down the elevator, through the lobby and out the front door. Relief was starting to flood into her head as she looked up and said, “I am sincerely sorry for all the ruckus I may have caused.”

  “Not at all. We are only glad you are on the mend.”

  “Yes. Very good pill, Dr. Hendricks.”

  He grinned, adding, “Please eat then one pill and straight to bed. You will be much better tomorrow.”

  “Oh, fiddle-dee-dee,” Margaret said and then laughed. “Upon my soul, Scarlett O’Hara is going to follow me to my grave. Do characters ever leave writers?” She asked to no one in particular as the group stood by her.

  The chauffeur offered assistance, and this time Margaret stood carefully, then seated herself in the car. “Thank you all. I promise to be a good patient.”

  Everyone smiled at the chauffeur who turned on the engine, easing the car into the night traffic.

  Jack looked at Fred Raymond and Mildred and said, “What a day.”

  “That may be the understatement of your life,” Fred Raymond commented.

  The next two days passed quickly. Rosy had emptied Kate’s closet, at this point leaving only her blue jeans, blouse and sweater. It looked a bit forlorn and out of place. It was a sad goodbye, for Kate had grown fond of Rosy. But not all was sadness as Rosy shared she was expecting, saying that she and David were over the moon excited. Kate also discovered Rosy was heading over to work at Warner Brother’s costume department alongside the great Orry-Kelly whose gown she had worn at Sonja Henie’s party.

  Therefore, at 11:30 Wednesday morning Jack, Hawk and Kate met with Fred Raymond in his office. He spent a few minutes thanking them for their efforts and their work. He wished them well in their respective careers. He walked them out to the reception area where each said their goodbyes to Mildred, and then escorted them downstairs to the transfer area.

  Fred Raymond stood patiently as the clock showed 12 noon. Hawk went first with a parting, “See you back home.”

  Jack followed, shaking the hand of Fred Raymond. He turned to Kate whose eyes were struggling not to shed tears. “Don’t worry, Dorothy. I’ll see you back in Kansas.” He winked. Kate laughed, but the tears tumbled down her cheeks when he leaned in and kissed her quickly. Then he disappeared into the Silver Screen. Suddenly his hand appeared with a thumbs up, and then it was gone.

  Kate wiped the tears from her eyes as Fred Raymond said, “Kate, it’s been a pleasure,” and patted her on the back.

  “Thank you, Mr. Raymond.” Then she stepped into the Silver Screen and everything went black.

  EPILOGUE

  Los Angeles 1999

  Three months lat
er

  Kate was getting a few things together. It was her weekend to spend with Jack. She opened the overnight bag to put her pajamas in, wondering why she even bothered. They certainly didn’t stay on her body much when she was with Jack. A wicked giggle escaped her. They had been together constantly since they returned from 1939.

  As she took a break to get an ice tea she reflected how well her body had transferred this time, but other parts of her life had shifted and changed that surprised her. She recalled what happened when she opened her eyes, hearing male voices talking and laughing. She really felt like Dorothy returning to Kansas as she eyed Sherman Avery seated on her right and Jack and Hawk who stood on her left. She chuckled to herself, recalling what she had said to Uncle Sherman. “I’m really sorry. I kind of got carried away. All the way to 1939.”

  “You could definitely say that,” Sherman laughed, adding, “But you are back safe and sound and that’s all that matters.” The kind sincere concern and forgiveness that laced his

  voice reminded her how fortunate she was to have him in her life.

  Later that day, Hawk volunteered to follow her home, because Jack was tied up with Uncle Sherman. Hawk had phoned Laura Cane, who was a hair short of hysterical upon hearing his voice after all this time. Hawk said that there was good news and to meet him at Kate’s bungalow.

  When Laura arrived and saw her friend, she couldn’t stop crying for five minutes. “You don’t understand. I was wild with worry. For God’s sake, I got you on a missing person list and the back of a milk carton, and you really don’t want to know how I got that.”

  Kate hugged her friend, “You are the best. I’m so sorry I put you through all the mystery and drama.”

  Hawk said he had some explaining to do with his friend Tango, feeling it was okay to leave Kate with Laura.

  Laura immediately went into the kitchen to retrieve the biggest wine glasses she could find with an equally large bottle of wine. It was going to be a long night.

  Kate only shared bits and pieces that first night out of fatigue, allowing the rest of it to come out over the next few weeks. As only Laura could be, she was more surprised that she had a new boyfriend than her mother had been part of a group of scientists led by Howard Hughes that did time travel. Granted, the discovery Errol Flynn was her dad was exciting, but all Laura really cared about was her friend was home safe and of course in love with a great guy.

  It seemed Kate had hardly been home a week when the news media went berserk. An original manuscript by Margaret Mitchell had been discovered in Grauman’s Chinese Theater during a renovation. It was the sequel to Gone with the Wind. It nearly caused a riot on the 24-hour news cycle.

  Kate approached Jack asking, “So this was what all the fuss was about?”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Jack said.

  “I can’t believe you all used Grauman’s Chinese as a post office. Who came up with that clever idea?”

  “That was Howard Hughes. Foxy fellow when he still had a few brain cells working.”

  Kate laughed, “No kidding.”

  What happened next, the lucky publishing house to secure the manuscript had so many pre-sales it was giving Harry Potter a run for most popular novel. The public went wild. Not a surprise to Kate or Jack.

  Kate finished her ice tea, and then rinsed out the glass. The afternoon sunlight caught on her engagement ring. A stunning four-karat sparkler. Every time she looked at it, her heart swelled, remembering the moment when Jack proposed. They had been home a little over two months, and he had suggested a walk on the beach. It was a mild summer evening. They ended up in a place that looked familiar and actually turned out to be the spot they shared their first dance in 1939 to Glenn Miller’s popular song Moonlight Serenade. They came to stand a minute before the short cement wall as Kate closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply of the refreshing salty sea air. Then she heard it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the Glenn Miller Orchestra with the Modernaires with Moonlight Serenade.”

  Kate’s eyes flew open, her heart lurched as she turned open mouthed to look at Jack. “What’s . . . what’s . . .” was all she could manage to say as a serious grin grew, taking over Jack’s face.

  “It took me a while to find the original recording from 1939, but I did and downloaded it into my phone.”

  Kate managed to close her mouth, but her eyes began to well up at the sentimental gesture.

  “So, Miss Kate, will you have a dance with me?”

  She managed to nod as Jack took her in his arms, as the melody of Moonlight Serenade swirled around them like a kind of magical enchantment. Then he whispered in her ear, “Will you marry me, Kate?”

  She nearly stopped dancing. She pulled back a bit, looking into his soft deep brown eyes and said, “Yes. Yes, I will.”

  The lingering strings of Moonlight Serenade faded as he stood back and pulled out a small box.

  “Oh my god, Jack.” Her eyes consumed the most stunning engagement ring. A four-karat, square diamond, framed with baguettes.

  “Shall we see if it fits?” Jack said.

  “Yes, please.” Kate watched Jack place the stunning ring on her ring finger. Her eyes welled up again, so moved by the simple declaration of his love. “I love you, Jack Baldwin, forever and a day and a little too in 1939.”

  Jack smiled and said, “And I love you with all of that and to the moon and back.”

  She would never forget the moment for the rest of her life.

  Kate went back to finish packing as her eyes went to the framed picture Jack had given her. He called it a little extra engagement present. It turned out to be a framed picture of both of them at Sonja Henie’s party in 1939. He had gotten an extra copy from Jimmy Smith. She often thought they looked like old time movie stars. She in her fabulous Orry-Kelly evening gown and him in his tux.

  Her cellphone rang suddenly, jolting her out of her memories. She reached to pick it up and saw it was Jack.

  “Hi, there. I’m almost ready to go.”

  “Great. I think it’s barbecue tonight, so how about you bring the desert?”

  Kate giggled, “But darling, I am the desert.”

  Jack chuckled, “Yes, you are. So maybe a little pre-desert.”

  “Consider it done. I should be there in about an hour. Love you.”

  And he hung up.

  Kate put her overnight bag, sweater, and an extra bottle of wine by the front door. She just needed to go and check her e-mail before leaving. As usual, Laura had checked in to see if a wedding date had been set yet. Hawk, who had stayed in touch, offered to do photos for them after they picked their date. He mentioned he got out of Jack where the name ARRAY came from; Howard Hughes. From what he said, he was out of the paparazzi racket, looking into studio photography. She really understood how he felt as her own love of website design was waning quickly.

  She and Jack had decided they weren’t really 9:00 to 5:00 people. They also realized with the wonderful tech world charging ahead it allowed them to consider not only working at home, but they could live anywhere. It was a tempting, exciting idea.

  Just as she was about to turn off the computer, a new e-mail popped up. She smiled. It was from Tilly and Archie. It had taken both of them to find Archie and Tilly, but they did. Both were retired in a nice flat in London they had purchased after World War II. Tilly had aged well, which she attributed to the wonders of hair color. Archie, older, had a lot less hair but no less charm and wit. They were wildly happy about Kate’s engagement to Jack. It had been decided that Jack and Kate would fly to London to spend Christmas with them and bring in the new century. Despite the growing fuss with Y2K, they would be together no matter what. Besides, Tilly was going to take Kate to Harrods so they could dash about with the fabulous January sales.

  Kate replied to Tilly. She was off to Jack’s. All was good.

  She
gathered everything into her car, securing Jack’s favorite key lime pie and she was on her way.

  Jack was heating up the grill for the grilled chicken and was busy fixing a large salad when Kate arrived. He never got over the rush he felt every time he saw her. He was a damn lucky guy. He poured two glasses of wine as they moved out to the balcony. It was a beautiful summer evening. As they sat down Jack said, “You know, I Googled the Beverly Wilshire out of curiosity to see if anything was ever done with the tunnels underneath the hotel.”

  “What did you find?” Kate asked, curious.

  “Interesting. The PR they are using is they built the tunnels over World War II so that they could protect the movies in case of an attack.”

  “Really? I bet people don’t think twice.”

  “They don’t, and just as well. I just got around to doing a Google search myself for Bogart and Lauren Bacall. Sadly nothing changed. It makes you wonder if there are just somethings you can’t change just someone’s destiny.”

  Jack nodded in quiet agreement.

  “So onto more serious subjects, what are we going to do when we grow up?”

  Jack laughed easily. “Funny you should ask I have an idea.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I have wanted to do something creative. Just wasn’t sure until now.”

  “And?” Kate said, encouraging him.

  “Okay, okay. I want to write. I think Fred Raymond had something there when he said our experiences, both yours and mine,” he paused. “I think we could do something together. For starters, you could design our author’s website.”

  Kate smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but writing, I . . . what would we write about anyway?”

  “That’s easy. Time travel. You know, sci-fi. It’s really big these days.”

  Kate was quiet for a moment when she started to grin, and the grin grew into a big smile. “Oh my god. I know what we could call our first book.”

  They smiled at each other in that knowing way and said in unison, “The Silver Screen.”

  The End