Anne stared into the dancing flames and tried to recall what was going on with the project during that time. They were working on the gun-assembly based weapon designs in the latter quarter of 1943. John von Neumann was brought in to look at it and came up with the suggestion that shaped charges could be utilized. These would be faster than the gun and more efficient. But, Anne wondered, what kind of problems arose to bother Oppenheimer? They were having problems, but from all her research, she could recall nothing that appeared insurmountable. There were arguments among the scientists on the best way to proceed. Although there were problems with the inward-moving spherical shock wave being disrupted by the detonation waves from the high-explosive segments, and by instabilities arising as the tamper material was pushed into the heavier nuclear core by the implosion, it all just meant digging in harder and coming up with solutions. It never meant quitting. It was way too early for that. What else was going on?
Oak Ridge was going on.
But Oak Ridge was going fine. They went critical on November 4, or will be going critical, she had to remind herself, in two weeks, and then only to provide plutonium for research.
Hanford was going on.
Basically, the same thing there.
So what was, or is happening at Los Alamos that would put Oppenheimer on a plane to Washington in lieu of his personal safety?
Anne checked that Elizabeth Anne was snug and warm, tucked the blankets around Heather, and then returned to her own bed and curled into a ball. As her mind continued to work on that question, as well as why the entire thought process came to her to begin with, she drifted into sleep.
It had become a ritual. Only the fifth week – actually the thirteenth since her arrival – but only the fifth since she knew how she got here, knew to be at the graveyard every Tuesday night. The weather was changing, getting cooler after sunset, so adjustments in clothing became necessary. And now she lived close to the grave site, although she went back to live with Ruth on the weekends. Elizabeth Anne made every trip. Even when she wasn’t feeling well and James or Ruth offered to sit, Elizabeth went along. It wasn’t far, little more than a quarter mile. Less than five minutes to get there. She allowed James to drive her only if it was raining. Otherwise, she insisted on walking, and the two of them walked with her.
Since that first morning in September, after spending the unusually cold night in the cabin and joining the Thigpen family for breakfast, the breakfast routine also became a ritual. After breakfast the children would do their morning chores and then go upstairs to the study room, and Anne and Gertie would go to the sewing room where Anne had almost completed her third dress. On weekends she spent her days in Charleston with Ruth. Danny was in Charleston on Mondays for building materials and would pick her up. James and Ruth came up on Tuesday evening to sit with her and then again on Friday to bring her back to Charleston. When she was up at the cabin, she took all her meals with the Thigpens, except Tuesdays when she politely declined. They thought she preferred visiting alone with Ruth and James. She wondered if they thought she and James had something going and were too polite to ask. She never said otherwise. Thus, she was left alone on those days, to visit and wait by Reverend Nelson’s grave.
It was Tuesday number five.
At 4:45 p.m., Elizabeth ate. By 5:15, mealtime was over. Elizabeth played and babbled while Anne cleaned her, checked and changed her diaper, and dressed her. Then into her crib she would go while Anne dressed and prepared herself. Elizabeth lay on her belly, watching her mother, kicking her feet and reaching with her arms, looking through the slats of the crib like prison bars. By 5:40, they were ready. Anne wouldn’t be late. She knew she would never be, no matter how many Tuesdays it took. Next week the time would change, as 1987 would leave daylight-saving time, and they would slip another hour toward dark.
The carriage was old, with large wheels and a full canopy; the one James’ mother had him dig out of her attic. When Anne packed to move up to the cabin, Ruth said with a sideways glance at James, “Keep it as long as you need to, but I do want it back. I’m hoping for grandchildren some day.” James blushed as he loaded it into the back of the car.
Elizabeth seemed to like the carriage. She enjoyed the gentle bouncing and rocking as Anne pushed it down the road. They went out walking often, even as it started to turn cold. Anne actually enjoyed the cold more once she was dressed properly. She felt good bundling up against it, feeling snug in boots and muffs, and a long coat and warm hat. She missed her parka though, and ski boots and gloves and the colorful ski pants. And sweaters! Oh God, she sure missed her sweaters.
She stepped out, looking toward Monck’s Corner Road, hoping to see the lights of James’ car. It was especially quiet and she sure would have liked their company, but she saw nothing. She sighed, pulled out the carriage and started up the road.
She knew every stump, every tree root, every marker and gravestone in the graveyard.
It was a good place, this graveyard that Steven had chosen. It was very small, providing service to a few of the Casey community families. Very smart, she thought. Quiet, out of the way. He knew she knew where it was. How did he think of it and of that little poem? Maybe because she made such a big deal over it. She marked the area off by pulling weeds and keeping it swept clean of pine needles, leaves, and any other debris. She pulled the small handmade broom from the pocket of Elizabeth’s carriage and swept the area clean once more. As she finished, she noticed a car, tensed for a moment then relaxed when she recognized it.
As James stepped out of the Desoto, she experienced once again a warm glow, not unlike that of sitting in front of a crackling fire on a cold winter day in New England, sipping hot spice tea and enjoying a good book. That’s how she used to describe to Steven the feeling she got when she was with him. Now she was having that same feeling with James and she felt guilty. She also felt awkward because she didn’t know how to handle it. There was no precedence, no law to dictate or govern the handling of this situation, only her conscience, and her conscience was very confused.
“Sorry, I’m late. Mom’s under the weather and sent her love.”
“You’re not late,” she said as she pulled her watch from her coat pocket. She seldom wore it for fear it would attract attention. As a matter of fact, she seldom even took it with her anywhere. She always took it to the graveyard on Tuesday nights, however. “We still have about three minutes. Besides you don’t have to come.” Yes you do, she thought quickly. I want you here all the time. If I can’t have Steven, if I can never get back to Steven, I want you. But how long do I wait? When do I know for sure I’m to remain here forever? How many Tuesdays before I give up and start treating you as someone other than my bother? She watched James reach down and pick Elizabeth out of the carriage.
“I’d like to see someone try and stop me,” he said. “And how is the little doll baby tonight?”
Even from the angle from which he held her, Anne could see Elizabeth open her mouth and smile. He would make a good father for her, she thought. And I do care for him. He makes my skin tingle and my knees go weak, and my thoughts to become disarrayed when he gets close, like right now. Then she began feeling flushed and guilty and turned her attention to the circle of cleared ground in front of her, from where it felt like Steven was watching her.
They both remained silent, looking into the nothingness of the circle, waiting for something, anything to happen. But as usual it remained quiet and uneventful, just another Tuesday to mark off the calendar.
Anne checked her watch. 6:20. “Come for coffee?”
“Of course.” James gently placed Elizabeth into the carriage. He knew not to offer Anne a ride back as she would refuse. He parked the car at the house and then walked back to meet her.
“James, I think I need to talk to someone – someone high up who can make things happen. You know the admiral at the shipyard.” They were sitting at the little table in Anne’s kitchen, sipping at the coffee setting in front of them.
/> “Wilson Harris. Rear Admiral Wilson Harris.”
“Do you know him well enough that you could get me in to see him?”
“I guess. But why?”
“There’s something going on and I think I’m going to be involved.”
“You’re going to be involved? What does that mean?”
“James, I know what is happening in this country concerning the war better than 99 percent of the people in my time. I studied it; I wrote essays on it; I immersed myself in it. I even wrote my own book though I never got it published. With my exceptional memory I can recall all of it. On November 9, President Roosevelt is going to agree to stand down a major top-secret project based on advice given him by a General Groves and a scientist by the name of Robert Oppenheimer. The history is written that Oppenheimer arrived back in New Mexico on November 17 by train after his meeting with the president eight days earlier. Research and development of the project never stopped. The president’s order to stand down was never executed.”
“I don’t get it,” James said. “You keep saying you can’t change history, so why do you think you should intervene in this? Maybe there’s a reason it was never stopped.”
“Actually, that’s sort of my point. It can’t stop. Between November 9 and November 17, something happened, and it’s not in the books. When asked in interviews, both Oppenheimer and General Groves said that the insurmountable problem, which prompted their approaching President Roosevelt, was suddenly overcome. There’s no mention of what the problem was or how it was solved, but whatever it was, the president rescinded his order. That is what is supposed to happen.”
“I still don’t understand,” James said.
Anne took a deep breath. “I think I’m here to make sure it happens.”
There was a very long silence during which James waited for more explanation. Anne composed her thoughts, her words. “Before the November 9 meeting, return passage to New Mexico had already been booked for Oppenheimer for the eleventh. Somewhere between the ninth and eleventh, the passage was changed from New Mexico to South Carolina and General Groves was added on. They departed Washington, D.C. together on Thursday, November 11. The next things that are recorded are General Groves returning to Washington on the fifteenth and Oppenheimer’s arrival in Los Alamos on the seventeenth.”
“Los Alamos?”
“New Mexico. The question is, what were they doing in South Carolina?”
“You think they came to see you?”
“Bingo! Somehow or other they are going to surmount the insurmountable problem in those few days and I cannot imagine who else in South Carolina right now besides me could possibly help them.”
“But how do they know to come here. How do they know you exist?”
“We’ve got to tell them. That’s what I need Admiral Harris for.”
Elizabeth Anne awoke and began crying. Anne went to where she lay in the bassinet in the living room. James followed with his coffee. “So you want me to convince the admiral to see you. What would you tell him?”
Anne picked up Elizabeth who immediately stopped crying. “I don’t know, but I’m sure something will come to me. Whatever I say must convince him to convince General Groves and Robert Oppenheimer to come here.” She lay Elizabeth on the sofa and reached for a diaper and powder. She threw a cloth to James. “Would you get this wet for me? Looks like she did it good.”
When James returned with the cloth and then backed off a distance, Anne said, “Just get me an audience with the admiral and I’ll figure out how to do the rest.” She pulled off the diaper, wiping as she did and shifted to her ‘talk to baby’ voice. “Look at you, you little pumpkin. You did a big stinky. Well, we’re going to clean you all up and put on a fresh diaper so you can do it again. Isn’t this a fun game?”
James turned and stepped outside.
Before long Anne joined him and they walked back up to the graveyard for the 7:00 wait.
Chapter 46
Friday ~ October 22, 1943
“This has got to be the strangest story told with a straight face I’ve ever heard.”
James said nothing in reply. He told his story as convincingly as possible and received from Admiral Harris the response he expected. Still, he felt his face flush.
“So!” The admiral stood, walked over to his window, and turned around. “What you are asking is that I meet with your time traveler. And I get the impression you are 100% serious.”
“I wouldn’t be here, sir, if I wasn’t.”
“The question then is not one of how serious you are, but how much of your right mind you are working with.”
James felt uncomfortable sitting while the admiral stood. It should be reversed. He wished that he would at least sit back down.
“Why was it again she wanted to see me?”
James had hoped the admiral wouldn’t ask why. But of course he would, and did for the second time. Anne said not to say any more than he had to, but what was it going to take to convince him? “She believes that her travel from her time to now wasn’t by accident, or...” how was it Anne said it? “... or it was an accident with a purpose.”
“An accident with a purpose,” Admiral Harris repeated.
“Yes, Sir. The purpose being to pass information to certain people who will then advise the president to rescind an order he has given... or will give.”
“Has given? Will give?”
“It can be rather confusing. It would be much better if she explained it to you herself.”
“Yes. I guess it would.” He considered the mirror-like shine on his shoes for a number of seconds and then said, “On one hand, I feel that by saying yes I’m going down the same crazy path as you, and that would not be good for the image of the shipyard commander. On the other hand, you have my curiosity piqued.” He punched a button on his desk. “Marge.”
The door opened and his secretary stepped in. “Yes, Sir?”
“What does my calendar look like for next week? I need about a half hour – forty-five minutes.”
“Certainly, Sir.” She disappeared for a moment. When she returned, she had his appointment book in her hand. “10:30 Tuesday morning you have about an hour. That’s about it Admiral. The rest of the week you’re in Philadelphia.”
“Put Officer Lamric and Mrs. Waring in for that hour.”
“Yes, Sir!”
“She has up to an hour to entertain me. Should be plenty, don’t you think, James?”
“Yes, Sir,” James said. “Thank you.”
The door closed behind Marge, and Admiral Harris added, “And I expect no one but you, me and Mrs. Waring will know about this.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Chapter 47
Tuesday ~ October 26, 1943
Rear Admiral Wilson Harris was sitting, thoughtfully, when James and Anne were ushered in, his hands together supporting his chin. The two of them sunk down into plush chairs, several feet apart, angled slightly toward each other, facing the admiral. They fidgeted apprehensively but said nothing.
The admiral cleared his throat.
James shifted in his chair.
Anne stared straight at the admiral, thought briefly about having to leave Elizabeth for the first time, assured herself again she would be fine with Danny and Gertie, and brought her mind back to the looming task at hand.
The admiral cleared his throat again and turned toward Anne. “I ponder why I should be entertaining a story as incredible as that which Officer Lamric here brought to me. If it got to my staff that I was willing to hear it for the second time, well, I would probably soon be pumping gasoline in Kansas.”
Anne shifted in her chair and waited for the admiral to continue, saying nothing.
“I’ve known James Lamric for some time and have a great deal of respect for him. It’s only for that reason that you’re here, Mrs. Waring; however, just because I’ve allowed this meeting in no way says I believe one word of his tall tale. In other words, you had better have come prepared to
convince me, without a shadow of a doubt, that you are who you say you are and that you have arrived in this place and time in just the way Mr. Lamric told me.” He looked directly at her, waiting for her reply.
Anne took a deep breath. “I do realize that convincing you is going to be extremely difficult,” she said, “at least immediately.”
“Clarify immediately, please.”
“Well, you being a sane and rational man, I’m sure there’s nothing I could tell you in this office, today, that would convince you that I’m anything other than a good science fiction story teller, who is well versed in current events and scientific breakthroughs. On a more long term basis I could tell you things that are going to happen that would make it quite difficult, if not impossible, for you to be skeptical.”
The admiral looked at her for some time, and then spoke slowly. “James told me that you were transported here from the year nineteen eight-seven. Forty-four years! If someone asked me what the events of eighteen ninety-nine were, forty-four years ago, all I could give them would be a blank look. How could I possibly expect that you would be able to be any different, especially in observing your obvious age? I would surmise that you would not be born for another what, ah...”
“Twenty years, Sir. I was born... or will be born in nineteen sixty-three.”
“And my point again, how can you possibly know of current events? Don’t even tell me who is going to win the next presidential election as I can pretty much guess that already, or at least have better than a fifty-fifty chance at it.”
“And, I assume your guess would be correct, but what you would not be able to guess is the exact date President Roosevelt will die in office after the next election, and how the war will progress from there to its end. But that’s too far away. I need to convince you today, or at the least, very soon. I still do not know how I’m going to do that. Maybe I should just start with my education, and then how I came to arrive here, in this time.”
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