by Linda Hawley
“I just saw him three days ago in the kitchen; we had a nice talk. I did not think anything was wrong,” Edwin shared.
“I don’t think anyone thought anything was wrong,” Paul replied.
“Clearly, everyone is going to be in shock for some time,” Edwin added compassionately.
I looked at Edwin’s face, and his eyes showed sadness. His eyes met mine for a few moments, and then he looked down again.
“I feel exhausted, like the wind has left my sail,” I said as I plopped down at my desk.
“That is a shock reaction, Ann. Perhaps you should go home to lie down,” Edwin advised.
“That’s kind of you,” I said quietly. “I think I’m gonna go for a drive; I’ll be back soon,” I said, standing and slinging my purse over my shoulder.
While Edwin turned to return to his desk, Paul hand motioned to ask whether he should go with me. I shook my head no.
“Lulu, let’s go girl.”
She padded with me up the stairs and out to the lobby. Thankfully, Vicki was absent.
Chapter 7
BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON
The Year 2015
Lulu and I got in my BYD, and I pushed the start button. In the quiet of the electric engine, I backed up and pulled onto Fairhaven’s cobblestone street. My mind was racing.
Could I have stopped it? What if I had just told him the truth yesterday—that I could have helped him financially, or that I could try to remote view a change? If I hadn’t been so guarded, maybe he would still be alive.
The tears blurred my vision, and I pulled off to the curb, next to a grove of evergreen trees. I cried unrestrained into my hands.
“Oh, Raymond!”
Lulu came forward from the back seat and licked my hands. I turned toward her and hugged her.
“Thank you, Lulu.”
Maybe I can still make some of this right.
I couldn’t resurrect Raymond, but I could try to make things easier financially on his family. I decided to visit his widow.
In a few minutes, I was at their front door, and I knocked softly. The door opened slightly.
“Hello?” The door was open a crack, and a plump elderly woman peered out at me.
I spoke gently through the crack in the door. “Hello, my name is Ann Torgeson, and I was Raymond’s co-worker and friend. I wonder if Rosamaria will speak to me for a few minutes. It’s important.”
“Just a moment,” she replied through the crack, then closed the door again.
I waited on the porch. Then the door opened fully.
“Rosamaria will see you for just a minute. Please come in,” she said, gesturing.
“Thank you,” I replied softly, entering their home.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I offered, looking into the woman’s large, sad eyes. I guessed that she was Rosamaria’s mother.
“Thank you,” she replied, dabbing her eyes with a cloth handkerchief that she pulled from a flowered pocket of the apron she was wearing. “Rosamaria is down the hall in the last room on the right,” the woman said, gesturing to the hall in the small house.
After taking a breath, I moved down the hall and stood in the doorway. Rosamaria was sitting in a wicker chair with a small garbage can at her feet, overflowing with used tissues. Next to her was a bed. There were no lights on in the room, and the only illumination was coming from the hall.
“Rosamaria, I’m so sorry,” I said, taking in her haggard appearance.
She looked up at me, and on her grief-stricken face also simmered a hardness. “What do you want?” she asked with a dead voice.
There would be no easy way to bring it up.
“Rosamaria, yesterday Raymond and I had lunch. He told me about the IRS garnishing his wages and the extreme financial stress your family is under…”
“What are you talking about?” she spat at me.
“I came here to help you and your boys. Raymond told me about it while we ate, he…”
She stood suddenly. “How is it that you claim that you had lunch with my husband yesterday, when he and I took our son to the doctor together, and he ate his lunch while we drove there? Huh?” she pressed me angrily.
“No lunch? But I remember…” I said slowly.
“You don’t belong here…” she raged at me, “…and I don’t know what kind of scheme you’re trying to pull on a woman whose husband just died. We don’t owe the IRS any money, and we certainly have no problems with them.”
“What? But Raymond told me…”
“Get out of my house,” she bellowed.
The air was full of Rosamaria’s fury. Her mother rushed in, confusion spilling over the edge of her grief.
My mind was racing. “I’m sorry to confuse you, that was not my intention. I came here to help your family,” I offered sincerely.
“Get out!” the new widow demanded, her eyes betraying furious intensity.
Moving past her mother, I rushed out of the room. Filled with confusion, I hurried out of the house, and when I got in my car, I raced out of the driveway. A mile down the road, I pulled the car over to the curb to think through what had just occurred.
“No lunch?” I said out loud. “I remember having lunch with Raymond yesterday and his telling me about the IRS.”
Oh my goodness.
Suddenly I remembered my dream from last night.
“I went back in time…to four months ago,” I said, astonished.
*
I was in an office, dressed in a black suit, with an IRS badge clipped to my lapel. On that badge was the name “Lynn Green” and my picture. I was an IRS field agent speaking to another IRS employee, directing him to follow up on a lead I had.
“Apparently the woman is claiming her daughter as a federal tax deduction, but her ex-husband, Raymond Brown, has the right to claim her; the divorce decree spells this out. Also, the marital house was sold, and the woman is responsible for paying the taxes due from the sale, but she claims that Raymond Brown owes that tax. That is apparently false; the woman owes the tax. So it looks like we’ve got a woman who’s responsible for these taxes, but she’s trying to pawn it off on her ex. I would suggest you lien the proceeds from the sale of the house, unless she can prove otherwise. What do you think?”
“Is the source credible?” the agent asked.
“Very. I think we can rely on the information,” I answered.
“Then I agree to lien her,” he said with a nod, all business.
“Good, now I can move on to other cases that need my attention.”
I left his office.
*
Remembering my dream was like watching a movie. I went back in time and changed history…from a dream.
That’s new.
I did have lunch with Raymond yesterday, but after I changed things in the past, in the new reality, we never had lunch. Raymond killed himself at eight o’clock, which was before I dreamed, so in his memory, everything was the same as he had told me.
“Why couldn’t you have waited?” I cried out loud to Raymond.
Leaving the curb behind, I drove back to AlterHydro.
Chapter 8
BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON
The Year 2015
At seven, I heard the car pull up.
As always, right on time.
Standing at the doorway to my house, I watched him hurry up the walkway toward me. I quickly closed the door behind us. Paul held me close and tight. We didn’t speak.
In time, he released me and, looking into my eyes, kissed me gently.
“I still can’t believe it,” he said in grief, giving me a quick second hug before holding my hand.
“Yeah.”
“I would have never thought he’d kill himself.”
I stayed silent. We moved over to the kitchen bar.
“Something smells good.”
“I made spinach lasagna. Cooking clears my mind,” I justified to him.
“Well then, let’s eat,” he suggested, sitting d
own.
“Okay,” I said, then started to dish up plates.
We ate in silence for several minutes.
“It’s really good, Ann.”
“Thanks. It’s my Aunt Saundra’s recipe. I always loved eating at her house because she’d make it every time I visited as a kid.”
As the lasagna filled me, I began to consider the questions I needed to ask Paul.
“I have some questions I’d like to ask you, but they may seem odd,” I said, looking up at him.
“Odd…how?” he replied, still eating.
“Well, will you just go with the flow? No matter how strange it may seem?”
“Sure, why not?” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“Tell me what you remember about lunchtime yesterday.”
“Hmm, okay…I did my regular routine and went and ran on the treadmill,” he said flatly, looking at me impassively.
“Details, please.”
“Okay…when I got there, you and Lulu were already running, as always, and…”
“What time was that?” I asked, interrupting Paul.
“I got to the treadmill about twelve-fifteen, as always; I don’t know how long you had been there.”
So I was running on the treadmill—not having lunch with Raymond. Paul remembers the alternate reality.
“What’s this about, Ann? You’re kinda acting strange, and I can see you’ve got a lot going on in your head ‘cause you have that funny look.”
“I’m gonna tell you something that’ll sound absolutely crazy. What I need you to do is suspend your disbelief and listen. Can you do that?”
“Don’t I always?” he asked, slightly irritated. “Is this another peeker experience without using the electronics?”
“Nope. This is something completely new.”
“Okay then.”
“Yesterday, instead of running with you, I actually had lunch with Raymond.”
“Huh?”
“Suspend your disbelief.”
“Okay,” he agreed, screwing up his face in concentration.
“Raymond told me that he was in a dire financial situation, because the IRS was garnishing his wages, due to something illegal his ex-wife did. The appeal was going to take up to a year, and during that time, they would still garnish his wages. Raymond was distraught.”
“So that’s why…” he said, suddenly having come to life.
“Yes,” I said with a raised hand, interrupting. “But let me continue.”
“Okay,” Paul agreed, keeping eye contact with me.
“After lunch with Raymond, I pondered how I could help him. His troubles were at the forefront of my mind all night. Then, last night I dreamed about his situation…”
“Don’t tell me that you dreamed something that turned real again?”
“Yes, I did, but more. In the dream, I went back in time and prevented Raymond’s problem with the IRS, and this morning you and everyone else remembered an alternate reality after my dream, instead of the actual reality, which is what I remember,” I said, then paused, looking for comprehension.
“But Raymond killed himself—he didn’t remember the alternate reality.”
“Raymond died before I went to sleep. If he had waited a few hours, he would have remembered a different reality and not killed himself.
“What do you remember from yesterday?” he said, interest piqued.
“I went to work, Raymond called me, and we had lunch together. He told me all about his troubles, saying that he was worth more dead than alive. It was very disturbing. Then, at eight o’clock last night, he killed himself…before I dreamed. I went to sleep about midnight, and dreamed that I fixed his IRS problems, by going back in time. This morning, his widow, you, and I’m sure others only remember an alternate reality, where Raymond didn’t have financial troubles, and he and I never had lunch together.”
“How do you know what his widow remembers?”
“I went to see her today,” I said, then looked down to the couch.
“You didn’t, Ann,” Paul exclaimed.
“I had no idea that she remembered a different reality. I thought they were in dire financial straits. I went there to offer help,” I said, trying to justify myself.
“What did she say?”
“That she was with Raymond yesterday at lunchtime; they had taken their son to the doctor. Then she and her mother pretty much kicked me out of their house. It was very hostile.”
“Oh, brother. Ann, that’s not good,” Paul said, censure dripping into his words.
“Yeah, I know. But I did go there to help. That’s how I learned that she had an alternate reality, and afterwards I remembered the dream.”
“If what you’re saying is true…”
“If it’s true? What do you mean?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You sure?”
“What I meant was, assuming that I can suspend judgment, what you did last night was time travel using the dream state, and you actually changed history.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you realize how incredible that is?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve had all afternoon to ponder it.”
“So much is possible with that kind of paranormal skill…”
“Unless I dream of a nuclear bomb hitting Bellingham,” I sighed. “What is so tragic is that Raymond killed himself only a few hours before I changed his reality. If he had just waited a day, he never would have died. Not only that, but I seem to be the only person to understand why he killed himself, since everyone else remembers the alternate reality. That’s the other thing I don’t understand…”
“What’s that?” Paul asked eagerly.
“Why don’t I remember the alternate reality? Or both realities?”
“Maybe your brain is hardwired to the first reality.”
“It apparently is. Or maybe I need to remember the first reality to stay sane. Remember what I told you before about others in the CIA program?”
“You mean that they all died?”
“Yeah. But for me, I don’t feel any different having changed history through my dream.”
“I find that very fortunate.”
“I agree,” I said softly.
Paul reached out to me and kissed me softly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said, searching my eyes.
“I know,” I said, looking into his deep, caring eyes.
“I care about you.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb. Sliding off the stool and standing, he pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me with his hands holding my waist tightly, and kissed me passionately.
I could no longer think about anything except my feelings for Paul that were erupting.
Chapter 9
BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON
The Year 2015
Sitting with a cup of herbal tea at the bay window, I watched the sea, petting Lulu with my free hand. I thought about what Paul and I had talked about last night. I can travel through time and alter events. But can I control it?
After pondering the problem all day and into the night, I had dreamed it unintentionally. I had been working creatively, throwing clay on my wheel. Could I have created the solution for Raymond by activating the right side of my brain?
I need to test my technique, to see if I can control it.
Considering it was time to get ready for work, I left the bay window, passing my desk, which sat against the small wall separating the art studio from the kitchen. I noticed a blank envelope sitting on the keyboard, typical of GOG correspondence.
“Was this here last night?” I said out loud as I opened the sealed envelope.
Meeting today at 2:15pm
Whatcom Falls Park, on the far side of Whirlpool Falls
“They’re coming here?” I said out loud, my voice sounding brittle and shocked, even to my own ears. GOG had never called a meeting and met me here. It must be something important.
I got ready for work, ma
king sure to wear my Keen walking shoes. Whatcom falls was a hiking trail. Driving to AlterHydro, I wondered if Paul had left the GOG letter. If so, why hadn’t he said anything?
That morning, it was difficult to get much work done with my mind preoccupied with Raymond’s death, the upcoming GOG meeting, and the implications of my newfound ability to alter history. Both Paul and Edwin seemed engrossed in their own projects as well. I noticed that Paul never left to workout at lunch. At 1:30, Lulu and I left for the GOG rendezvous.
I took a rambling route to the park, knowing that security was vital for a GOG meeting. The CIA trained me to identify a tail, and I used all those tactics to ensure I was not being followed.
Whatcom Falls Park is more than two hundred acres of forested wilderness, including hiking trails, several waterfalls, and a fishing pond. The meeting place GOG chose was a favorite of swimmers brave enough to jump off the cliff sixty feet above the creek pool.
As I pulled into the parking lot from Silver Beach Road, I was sure I had not been followed. Because the trail could be slippery in the rain, I was thankful for the clear, sunny day.
“Lulu, it’s your lucky day; this is a no-leash park. But you do have a task. You are my watch, girl.” When I said the word “watch,” Lulu’s ears pricked up as she stared at me.
When Lulu was a still a puppy, I began working with a professional guard-dog trainer, who helped me train Lulu. We worked with her for a year, and since then we’d had many refresher sessions.
“It’s time, girl.”
I left the car and opened the back door for her. She jumped out of the car and sat on the ground, looking up at me. I gave her the command. “Watch.”
She immediately stood, then set to work sniffing and listening, building a hundred-foot perimeter around me. When she was done, she stood next to me and looked up. That was her all clear signal.
At a brisk pace, we set off walking towards Whirlpool Falls; the smell of Evergreens permeated the air. The whole way, Lulu was working, securing an area around me. We passed the trail cutoff where swimmers climbed to reach the jumping-off cliff. I could see the large pool and the sun shining directly into it. Not far from there, we left the trail and hiked down a craggy hill to get to the far side of the pool. I didn’t see anyone waiting, so I checked my watch. Right on time.