All My Tomorrows

by Karen D. Badger

  Sam smiled when she saw her wife. "Good morning, love. Coffee?" she asked.

  Gina walked over to Sam and kissed her tenderly. "Yes, please."

  "I've got it covered," Jordan said as she pulled another mug down from the cupboard and slipped a new pod into the machine.

  "I caught Jordan trying to sneak out before breakfast," Sam said.

  Gina raised her eyebrows at Jordan. "Big mistake, my friend. Sam doesn't let anyone leave here on an empty stomach. So, what are your plans from here?"

  Jordan leaned her backside against the cabinet and crossed her legs at her ankles. "Truthfully, I don't know. I have a little money from my job on the farm, so I should be okay for a few weeks if I can find a relatively inexpensive place to live. I know what I'd like to do, but it will take considerable money to get it off the ground."

  "What kind of skills do you have besides being a farm hand? Maybe we can put you in touch with potential employers," Gina offered.

  Jordan debated with herself whether to be truthful with her new friends. She thought for a moment before answering. "I am a research scientist with a PhD in kinesiology and spinal cord injuries."

  Gina nearly choked on her coffee. "Are you shitting me? A research scientist? Really?"

  "Yes, really."

  "Why would someone with your background want to be a farm hand, Jordan?" Sam asked as she slid the first omelet onto a plate.

  "I needed to be close to Maggie. Besides, I grew up on a horse farm so I really do know my way around horses."

  "Well, the University of Vermont has a program that's associated with the Medical Center. Maybe they could use another research scientist," Gina suggested.

  "There's also Dartmouth-Hitchcock Hospital in Lebanon, New Hampshire. That's about a ninety-minute drive from here," Sam added. She slid the second omelet onto a plate and handed one each to Gina and Jordan. "Here, eat them while they're hot. Mine will be done in just a minute."

  A few minutes later, all three women sat round the small table in the breakfast nook, enjoying their breakfast.

  "So, Jordan, what is it you want to do that requires so much money?" Gina asked.

  "I have knowledge and experience that no one else has in this day and age relative to treatments for spinal cord injuries. I'd like to open my own privately funded foundation to further those studies. I believe I can realize significant gains in restoring mobility for victims of spinal cord injuries in a relatively short amount of time."

  "You're very sure of yourself, Jordan. Why such a high level of confidence?" Sam asked.

  Jordan stood and turned her back to her friends. "Because of this," she said, pulling up her shirt to expose the scar on her back.

  Sam stood and approached Jordan. "My God, Jordan, what happened to you?" she asked, running her index finger down the scar.

  Jordan sighed. "Maggie had the same exact reaction," she said, a tell-tale catch in her throat. Jordan reached back and moved Sam's hand lower down her spine and pressed it into a spot just to the right of center between her two back pockets of her jeans. "Feel this," she said.

  Sam's eyes opened wide. "It's vibrating. Gina, feel this," she said."

  Gina reached forward and also felt the vibration. "What the hell is it?" she asked.

  Jordan turned around and tucked her shirt back in. "It's a spinal implant, design to restore mobility."

  "Whoa, wait a minute here. Are you trying to tell us you have a spinal cord injury?" Gina asked incredulously.

  "Yes. My spinal cord is completely severed at the L1 vertebrae. As a vet, Gina, you surely understand what that means."

  "You're damned right I do. It means paralysis… complete and permanent. How the hell are you standing here if you're a paraplegic?"

  "The implant sends alternating electrical pulses to both sides of the injury site and allows a synthetic bridge to be established, thus restoring mobility. In theory, these impulses encourage the nerve endings to begin growing toward one another. Hopefully, some day soon, they will physically bridge the injury site and grow together. In the meantime, I have restored mobility, and with any luck, at some point, the nerve endings in my skin will wake up too," Jordan explained.

  "Holy shit. I didn't realize spinal cord research has progressed so much," Gina exclaimed.

  "It hasn't," Jordan replied. "But with my help, I'm hoping it will."

  Gina carried her plate to the sink, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. "This changes everything, Jordan."

  "What do you mean?" Jordan asked.

  "I mean, I'm going to put you in touch with some philanthropist friends of mine. Once they hear what you have to say, I'm betting they'll be willing to throw some money behind your plan."

  "Gina, that's a great idea," Sam said. "Jordan, go put your bag back in the guest room. You're not going anywhere."

  "I appreciate your hospitality, ladies, but I don't want to overstay my welcome," Jordan said.

  Gina put her hand on Jordan's shoulder. "Bullshit. Do as Sam says. You can pay us back when you're rich and famous. Now go take care of your bag and while you're doing that, I'll call my friends."

  * * *

  At two o'clock that afternoon, Jordan and Gina sat in the waiting room of one Phyllis Neese, Attorney. Jordan's leg bounced up and down nervously.

  "Relax. Phyllis is a nice person. Don't be so nervous," Gina said.

  "I feel like I should be more prepared. In the past when I've applied for grants, I spent hours and hours preparing presentations and organizing research results to justify funding. This feels way too casual. Hell, I'm wearing jeans, for Christ's sake. I feel so unprofessional."

  "Phyllis won't be concerned about the way you look. She'll be more concerned about your brain and your potential results than the fact that you're wearing jeans."

  "Sometimes, talking to the money guys is more difficult than you think. They are usually focused on the bottom line rather than the benefits of your research."

  "I think you'll find Phyllis to be a horse of a different color," Gina said. "She specializes in medical disability cases, so she'll at least understand the lingo. And besides, it's not like the money is coming directly out of her pocket. She represents investors. All you need to do is convince her that this is an investment worth making."

  "That might be harder than you think," Jordan mused.

  "How can you lose? You are proof that it works." Gina pointed out.

  Just then, the door to the waiting room opened and a middle-aged woman entered. "Ms. Neese will see you now," she said.

  "Take a deep breath, Jordan. It'll be fine," Gina said as she rose to her feet and offered her hand to Jordan.

  Gina walked into Phyllis Neese's office in front of Jordan. The lawyer rose to her feet and met her half way across the room. "Gina," she said, hugging her. "It's so nice to see you again. How's Sam?"

  "Sam is great. She sends her love."

  "How did her garden do this winter? Nancy is looking forward to the rhubarb."

  "Nancy's strawberry-rhubarb crisp is the best. Is she planning to enter it into the Champlain Valley Fair this year?"

  "You bet she is."

  "Well, I'll be sure to tell Sam to set some aside for her as soon as it's ripe enough to harvest."

  Jordan observed the interaction between Gina and Ms. Neese and immediately liked the woman.

  "Phyllis, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Jordan Lewis. Jordan, this is Phyllis Neese," Gina said.

  Jordan extended her hand to Ms. Neese and shook it warmly. "So nice to meet you, Ms. Neese," she said.

  "Phyllis. Call me Phyllis. So, Gina tells me you have a proposal that requires funding."

  "Yes. It's more of a research project at this point, but I have evidence and experience that will significantly shorten the development time. I'm afraid I don't have a formal presentation for you today."

  "The presentation to the investors will come later, after you convince me your project is worth funding. Now tell me, Dr. Lewis what is it you nee
d funding for?"

  Jordan walked from one end of the room to the other, feeling Phyllis's eyes on her as she walked. She returned to the center of the room and stood in front of her. "I have a cure for paralysis resulting from a complete severance of the spinal cord," she said.

  Phyllis jumped to her feet. "No freaking way. How is that possible?"

  "I hesitate to divulge the details at this point, Phyllis. Just know I've spent the last several years working on a method to restore mobility for millions of SCI victims who currently have little to no hope of walking again without the assistance of some huge, clumsy exoskeleton."

  "How do I know you're telling me the truth? You realize you are asking for millions of research dollars, but yet are not giving me anything to base it on."

  "What I am asking for, is a chance to present my case to the scientists you currently have working on SCI mobilization projects," Jordan explained. "If they see the merit in my proposal, then yes, I will be asking for millions of research dollars and the right to lead a team of scientists in the development of a cure for complete spinal cord injuries."

  "Do you have X-rays or MRI's from test subjects to verify your injury?" Phyllis asked.

  "They have been done, but unfortunately, I do not have access to them."

  "Well, then they will need to be done again before we go to the investors."

  "I'm afraid that will not be possible."

  Phyllis looked long and hard at Jordan. "You're not making my job easy, here, Jordan."

  "I apologize for that, but I am confident I can sell my case to a group of scientists who will truly understand the potential in what I have to say."

  Phyllis scribbled several notes on the notepad in front of her. "By the way, Dr. Lewis, what is your background?"

  "I have a PhD in kinesiology and spinal cord regeneration techniques."

  "I assume your have the credentials to back up your education?"

  Jordan fell silent for a few moments. "No, Ma'am, I don't have access to those documents either. What I have for proof is the knowledge and experience that I am willing to share with other research scientists. I am also willing to go before your most knowledgeable experts on spinal cord injuries for either a written or oral exam."

  "But you have no records of either the medical procedures or your credentials?"

  "No, Ma'am, I do not."

  "That might be a problem. Let me talk to my investors. If they are willing to listen to your case, I will set up a meeting with them."

  "And their SCI scientists," Jordan added.

  "Yes, and their SCI scientists."

  CHAPTER 17

  Maggie spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess she had made in her bedroom by tearing out the sheetrock in front of the diaries. She would have to hire a contractor to repair the wall, but at least she had peace of mind that Jordan was not lying to her. It was nearly dark when she finished. Electing to forgo dinner, she poured herself a tall glass of wine and started a fire in the living room fireplace. She threw several large pillows on the floor in front of the hearth and sat on them, contemplating the flames. The house was empty and dark… and very lonely. John had gone home for the night, and she was alone.

  She replayed her last conversation with Jordan, over and over again, while trying to make sense of what Jordan was telling her.

  Is it really possible she traveled through time? What did she say… her parents died two years ago in 2103, so that means she was living in the year 2105 before she came here. That's eighty-four years from now. Will time travel even be possible in eighty-four years?

  Maggie sat with her knees up and arms wrapped around her shins. She rested her forehead on her knees and began to cry.

  How will I live without you, Jordan? I have never loved another human being the way I love you. Why does life have to be so complicated?

  She propped her chin on her knees and stared at the fire once more.

  I wish I would have let you explain how you knew I was in danger. You said I died over and over again. What do you mean by that, Jordan? It's so hard for me to even imagine it. I am so angry at myself for not giving you the chance to explain.

  Maggie drained her wine glass and refilled it with the bottle she had placed on the hearth in front of her.

  Where are you, Jordan? Where did you go? What you said earlier is right, you don't exist in 2019. You have no social security number, no credit cards, no cell phone, no history at all. Hell, you don't even have a car or a valid driver's license. Sweetheart, how will you survive? I'm so sorry for not listening to you. I'm so worried about you. Jordan, please come home.

  Maggie refilled her glass a third time, emptying the remainder of the wine into her glass. She wrapped her arms around her shins once more and allowed the tears to roll down her face.

  What good is having this farm if I have no one I love to share it with? Maybe you should have let me die, Jordan. You have risked everything in your life to save mine, and what did I do to repay you? I threw you out. I didn't believe you. I didn't trust you. I am so sorry.

  Maggie drank the rest of the wine in her glass then put it on the hearth and laid her head on the pillows. Within moments, she was asleep.

  * * *

  Maggie awoke the next morning with a nagging headache. She rolled over and looked at the ceiling and wondered why she wasn't in her bed. It was then she realized she had fallen asleep on the pillows in front of the fireplace.

  "Oh my God," she said, pushing her self into a seated position. "I can't believe I drank that whole bottle of wine last night. No wonder I've got a headache."

  Maggie climbed to her feet and tossed the pillows back onto the couch, each time fighting the pounding in her head as she bent down to pick up the next pillow.

  "Remind me never to drink wine again," she said to no one in particular.

  She shuffled into her bedroom and looked at herself in the mirror. "Maggie, you look like death warmed over," she said out loud as she took in appearance. There were dark circles under her eyes and her curly red hair was even more unruly than usual. She began stripping her clothing off then threw them into the laundry basket located beside the dresser… directly in front of where she had torn the sheetrock from the wall.

  Maggie sat heavily on the bed and looked at the hole in the wall. "Jordan," she whispered as her handiwork reminded her of what had transpired the day before.

  "Jordan, where are you? Where did you sleep last night?"

  Maggie fought back tears as she stripped off the rest of her clothing and headed to the bathroom to shower.

  "Good Morning, John," Maggie said as she entered the barn to saddle Shawny for their morning ride.

  "'Morning to ya, Miss Maggie," John replied. "I take it Jordan is sleeping in?" he asked. "She promised to give me a hand stacking the hay bales today."

  Maggie threw the saddle over Shawny's back then stopped to look at John. "Jordan is gone, John."

  John lowered his chin to his chest. "That's a pity, Ma'am. She was good people. Seein' as you and she were supposed to get married soon, I thought…"

  "Well, she's gone. She left last night." Maggie resumed saddling her horse.

  "I know I shouldn't be so bold, but Jordan was my friend. Do you mind me askin' why?"

  "We had an argument over something she was keeping from me… something she should have shared with me when she first arrived."

  "You mean the time travel thing?" John asked.

  Maggie pulled the belly strap tight then stopped short. She walked over to John and stood directly in front of him. "What did you say?"

  "I asked if it was about the time travel thing."

  "You knew about that? She told you, but kept it from me?" Maggie said, her anger escalating once more.

  "No, Ma'am, she didn't tell me about it."

  "Then how the hell did you know?"

  "I was in the tack room fixing one of the pitch forks, when all of the sudden, a wind kicked up inside the barn, so I peeked my head outsid
e the tack room into the barn proper to see if you had left the main door open. A flash of light lit up the room in the center of the barn where the hay bales were stored. It only lasted a second or two, but when it was over, there was Jordan, sitting in the middle of the floor, all wrapped up in a ball. She just appeared outta nowhere."

  "You saw her appear?" Maggie said excitedly.

  "I did."

  "And that didn't scare you?"

  "Yes, Ma'am, it did. I thought she might be an alien or something, but she looked harmless enough. That was moments before she tackled you to the ground and saved you from the winch that fell from the rafters. You talked to her yourself. Did she appear to be dangerous to you?"

  Maggie paced back and forth in front of John. "She appeared from thin air just before the winch fell?"

  "Yes, Ma'am, and now I'm glad she did, otherwise, you might not be here talking to me about it right now."

  "And you never questioned her about it later?"

  "No, Ma'am. Like I said, Jordan is good people. Once I got to know her, I could tell she was harmless. It don't matter none to me where she comes from, only that she's good people."

  Maggie stood there with her hands on her hips and smiled broadly. "We should all learn to think that way, John. If I was half as open-minded as you are, she would be here today to help you stack those hay bales."

  "Do you know where she went?" John asked.

  "No, I don't." Maggie rubbed her forehead. "I've been such a fool, John. She tried to explain it to me, but I wouldn't listen. It just seemed too incredible to believe, and now here you are, telling me exactly the same thing." Maggie wiped the tears from her eyes.

  John put his hand on Maggie's shoulder. "I know she loves you, Maggie. She's told me so herself. Let me put out a few feelers around town to see if anyone has seen her."

  "I'd appreciate that, John."

  "Go on now. Take Shawny out for his ride. I've got hay bales to stack."

  CHAPTER 18

  Gina glanced at Jordan across the front seat of the truck. "I'm surprised you didn't show her the implant or even tell her about your own injury."

  "We're dealing with a sensitive research project here, with the potential for very high-stakes political visibility. Neither Phyllis, nor the research scientists need to see the implant. They only need to be impressed enough with my knowledge of how to restore mobility and feeling to a person with a complete SCI," Jordan explained. "One thing I learned from my mentors is that you only divulge what is necessary to get the job done. Exposing anything more will only get in the way of progress, and may even put you at risk."