Time-Travel Duo

by James Paddock

  In the car Annie said, “You know that guy at Wal-Mart in Kalispell, Erik, who recommended Pack It In Sports?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m thinking he and this guy had some kind of scam going. He got my name and address information from my credit card when I bought the jacket, called it to this guy,” she pointed to the storefront, “who then somehow managed to find information about me.” Annie looked up into the blue sky. “That’s the only explanation I can come up with, or else this guy is psychic.”

  Mary laughed. “I think your first guess is more likely. We should ring the police.”

  Annie shook her head. “What proof do I have, and what damage was done? If it was a scam, what were they after? A down payment on the business? Doesn’t make any sense. No, I think it’s best left alone. I certainly won’t be coming back here; I guarantee that.” She turned south onto Spokane Avenue, which was also Highway 93. “That finishes my shopping. Ready to head back?”

  “There’s a Safeway up ahead,” Mary said. “Let’s stop and purchase some ice cream. My treat. A half gallon and all the toppings.”

  “That sounds yummy. And I need groceries. Almost forgot about that.”

  Bill Small, one half of the married partners who owned Pack It In Sports stood just inside the door of his business and watched the two women pull out of the parking lot. When they were out of sight he walked behind the counter, picked up the phone, and punched the speed dial.

  “It’s me. Annie Caschetta was just in.

  “Exactly. It went just as we were told.

  “Yes, and she claimed she’d never been here before.

  “I thought it was weird, too, but then I realized I’d heard her call the lady she was with mother, so I’m thinking it was something mother wasn’t supposed to know about.

  “Beats me. She just kept denying she had ever been here before and then when it occurred to me about the mother I backed off; pretended I had the wrong person.

  “Yes, I’m sure it was her. I called her by name and she responded.

  “Yes, dear, I certainly do have a memorable face. I agree that she wouldn’t have forgotten me. Has to be the mother.”

  He sighed. “I will. See you then.”

  Bill Small stepped back to the window and looked out at the nearly empty parking lot. Business was slow at a time of year when it should have been booming. He sighed again and realized how much he had counted on Annie Caschetta returning and buying his store. She was young; innocent in some ways, not so in others. She may not have all that much business savvy, but she was smart, super smart, and he knew that if anyone could take it over and make it run, she could. She also reminded him of his own daughter, lost to him in the southern California drug jungle, his only child . . . gone. He wanted Annie Caschetta to buy Pack It In Sports, as much for her, as for him. In a way they both needed a fresh start.

  Chapter 12

  May 28, 2007

  Annie and Mary were just walking into Safeway when Annie’s phone played its merry tune. She dug it from her pocket and looked at it. “It’s my best friend, Beth.”

  “You stay out here and talk,” Mary said. “I’ll get the ice-cream and stuff.”

  “Thanks.” Annie punched send and put it to her ear as she stepped away from Safeway’s entrance. “Hey girl!”

  “Oh thank God! Annie it’s awful!”

  “What? What happened?”

  “Mikhail. He’s in the recruiter’s office right now. I refused to go in and we fought some more. God I wish you were here.”

  Suddenly Annie wished Beth hadn’t called, realizing that this was one thing she left Boston to get away from. “I’m here right now.”

  “Why do they do this? What is such a big deal that they have to go fight people in other countries.”

  Annie’s biggest unanswered question. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

  “What do I do?” Beth started crying again. “Did you and Tony fight?”

  “Big time.”

  “Did it do any good?”

  “Not a bit, Beth.” Annie pulled her fingers through her hair. “The last time I saw him was in the middle of a fight.” Annie thought about her final words for a few seconds, considered telling Beth what they were, and then shoved it away. “It didn’t make any difference. He got on that plane and angry words are the last thing I remember, probably the last thing he remembered.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  “Listen, Beth.” Annie bit her lip and then continued with the words that she didn’t herself believe for one second. “The chances that what happened to Tony will happen to Mikhail are very low. Very, very low.”

  “I don’t care how low it is. I don’t want him gone at all. I don’t want to spend the next I-don’t-know-how-long worrying about him, about us.”

  “He still has to get his physical, right? Maybe he won’t pass.”

  “That’d mean he’d be sick. I don’t want him sick. I want him to stay with me because he loves me.”

  Annie closed her eyes and turned her face to the sky. This was the same demand that she’d had, what caused the blowup days before Tony left. She regretted her words, though she still believed they were true. If you loved me you wouldn’t be doing this, she had whined at him. After several hours of flipping between silence and more words, he said, If you loved me you’d support me. And then her. What right do you have to bring my love for you into it? She remembered his hurt look. It seems that you’re the one who suggested that love had something to do with it to begin with.

  He made her so angry, so damned angry, even when he was right, especially when he was right. But love did have something to do with it. “Beth. It’s not about love. Mikhail loves you. There’s no doubt about that. He just needs to do this.” What Annie really wanted to do was grab Mikhail around the neck and while shaking sense into him, say, “If you love Beth, don’t do this.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours! If there was any way to change his mind, I’m all for it, but I’m telling you from experience that fighting about it is not worth it. It won’t change what he’s determined to do and it leaves the two of you on the outs with each other at a time when you need to be even closer.”

  “But if he loved me . . .”

  “Beth! Don’t go there with him. I played the love card on Tony and he played it right back on me. He said, ‘If you loved me you’d support me.’ Now he‘s dead and I walk around with guilt because he might have died thinking I didn’t love him. He didn’t have a right playing the love card on me, but, as he said, I started it. Don’t you go and start it, Beth.”

  “I already did.”

  “Then undo it!” Annie restrained a scream. She lowered her voice. “You hear me. Undo it today. I’d give anything to go back and unsay the things that I said to Tony. If Mikhail’s going to join the Marines then you support him and tell him how much you love him. You can tell him how much you disagree with his decision, but you also tell him you’ll support him because you love him so much.”

  Sniffles from Beth.

  “Do you hear me?”

  “Yes.” More sniffles.

  “And if you don’t love him enough to support him, then walk away because you don’t love him enough.”

  “I . . .” It sounded like Beth choked on something.

  “You understand that, Beth?”

  “Yes!”

  “No you don’t!” She didn’t know where any of this was coming from but here it was, boiling up. “You can be angry with me, but damn it, Beth, support him or walk. Those are your choices. I’m giving you tough love here, Beth. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but right now I wish someone had told me that last year, and again back in January.”

  Beth’s silence lifted Annie to the next level.

  “I never supported Tony and now I pay for it. I spit words into his face that I’ll regret for the rest of my life, and every day I pay for it. Things will be better for you, Beth, for two reasons.” />
  Annie let that hang until Beth’s angry voice came back. “What?”

  “First, just because he’s joining doesn’t mean he will go to Iraq. Second, even if he does he’s going to come home in one piece and third, you’re going to tell him before he leaves, and in every phone call, and in every letter and email you write that you love him and support him, that you’re going to be his greatest fan. Believe me, Beth, even if Tony hadn’t died, there would have been a small gulf between us because of our fighting. Don’t put that gulf there. Stay tight.”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “Think about it Beth. I’ll get into town and call you tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Stay tight with him.”

  Without waiting for another word from Beth, Annie hung up and then pushed the phone back into her pocket and stood looking across the distant mountains. “Damn you Beth Traner! Why did you have to stir this up in me again? And damn you President Bush, and damn you terrorists!” She wiped the moisture from her eyes. “Damn you Tony Caschetta for leaving me.

  “And God damn the Marines!” Suddenly her legs went weak and everything started to close in on her.

  “Mommy, what’s wrong with that lady?” a child said as he was dragged through the doors.

  Annie looked around and then stumbled along the front of the grocery store looking for a place to sit, giving in to sliding to the ground between a pay phone and an ice machine, her back against the outside wall of the store. After five minutes of controlled deep breathing and then forcing herself to relax, she looked up. No one was standing around her waiting to see what the freak was going to do next. People were still coming and going, hardly noticing that she was there.

  Holy crap! What was that?

  It had happened before, but not nearly as strong as this, back in the first few weeks after Tony’s death. It would rise over her like a silent ocean wave and then drag her down before releasing her, leaving her trembling in its wake. It always followed talk about Tony. She’d thought it had gone away.

  She took another deep breath and then got back up to her feet. She didn’t want to go in, would rather wait outside for Mary, but she needed groceries. She shivered off the feelings and forced her feet to walk over to the front doors, which then opened with a beckoning swish. Cool air rushed into her face and she stepped forward.

  Charles Walshe stood before Robert Hair’s fireplace studying a framed photograph. Annie as a young teenager was seated next to an old woman. They were holding hands. Behind them stood Annie’s father and grandfather. Around them were five more people. “Is this all family, Robert?”

  Robert handed Charles a tumbler of clear liquid and looked at the photograph. “Most of them. That’s Annie’s great-grandmother Francine Frick, my late wife’s mother. This was at her eighty-fourth birthday; a month after Annie turned fourteen. Francine passed away several months later.”

  Charles’ eyes drifted to another framed photo of two women. “Is this your wife and daughter?”

  “Becky and Anne. Yes.”

  “They were both very beautiful. When did your wife die?”

  “Thirty-one years ago. A woman had a stroke; her car jumped the curb of the sidewalk where Becky was walking. She never had a chance. Anne, Annie’s mother, was only thirteen at the time.”

  Charles pointed to another face in the first photo. “Is that Senator Johnston?”

  “That’s him. Henry. Annie’s first cousin once or twice removed or some such thing. You should recognize the woman next to him, then.”

  “Gracy Johnston, I think.”

  “Congresswoman Gracy Keeton. She retired and then changed her name to Johnston when they married.”

  “I remember something about that.”

  “You couldn’t have been much out of diapers yet. You follow political history as well as nuclear science?”

  “When you’re from Florida you can’t help know about Senator Johnston and his fling with the New York congresswoman. Who are these two?”

  “Those are the two who aren’t family; James and Abigail Lamric. Annie’s official godparents. Both of them are in their late eighties but still live by themselves. James received a new heart in ’92, following his third heart attack. The other face there is Gracy’s nephew, Wilson Harris the third. He was a Navy Captain in that photo. He just retired this year as Rear Admiral. Followed in his grandfather’s footsteps.”

  Charles stared at the photo for a few seconds longer then pointed to Francine Frick. “It was her husband who was the German spy during World War II, right?”

  Robert nodded. “It’s a hell of a back-story and you’ve only learned a fraction of it. Maybe another time. It sounds like Howard and Tom have arrived.”

  After drinks were handed out–Howard accepted only a bottle of water–Robert filled them all in on what Howard had found out when he ran into Steven at the library.

  “Did you say anything that would make him suspicious?” Robert asked Howard.

  “No!” he answered defensively. “He thinks I want her for a summer research project.”

  Charles said, “What’s the deal with Steven anyway? Why are you wanting to leave him out of this when, from what I understand, he was the pivot point in putting this all together the first time?”

  “He would destroy it.”

  “You mean you don’t trust him,” Thomas said.

  “Oh, I trust him; I trust him to destroy it. His bumbling got his wife, my daughter, killed the first time.”

  “It was also his efforts that got your granddaughter back,” Thomas said. “It was an unfortunate series of errors that sent Anne back in time to begin with, only one of which was his.”

  “He made more than one error. They were cascading off of him like dandruff.”

  “That’s a bit excessive.”

  Robert shrugged. “In any case that’s not the main reason I don’t want him involved. You and Thomas may not be aware of it, but not long after Anne’s memorial he stated, and he was vehement, that not only would he not be a part of such a project again, but he would do whatever would be necessary to shut down any new efforts.”

  “Kind of expected seeing as he just buried his wife,” Howard said. “But it has been twenty years.”

  “He’s repeated it a number of times since; went ballistic when Annie became interested in time travel just a few years ago.”

  “You mean she tried it?” Charles said.

  “No, no; heavens no. She studied the theory of time travel; worm holes, alternate dimensions, you name it. But it was enough to get Steven riled up. We can’t risk his getting even a whiff of what we are intending to do.”

  There was a thought-filled silence before Howard said, “Can we move forward without her?”

  “We came to a consensus that we require five people to do this efficiently and safely. It requires a minimum of four plus the traveler who has to have as much knowledge as the rest of us. Clyde is dead; Michael has let his mind go to waste in Kansas; Peter has also gone to waste and has turned into an alcoholic. Annie is logically the best and only choice for the fifth person. She is not an outsider, she understands the entire process, or will pick up on the blank areas very quickly, and she carries much less mass than the rest of us.”

  “I’m an outsider,” Charles pointed out.

  “And I’m keeping an eye on you.” The seriousness at which Robert said those words created another uncomfortable silence. “We can’t move forward without her,” he finally said, “but I think we can do something to get her attention.”

  “How, when she’s in Montana?” Thomas said. “It’s hard to even talk to her.”

  “We’re all set up. We may not be ready to run the main event, but we can do something small. Here is what I have in mind.” And then he told them.

  After marshmallows and story-telling, and after saying goodnight to everyone—one new couple had checked into the ranch, but they stayed to themselves—Annie got herself comfortable on her F
uton Sofa with her computer in her lap. She vowed she would keep up with her journal entries, her last chore before turning in each night, and already she was a day behind.

  My Dearest Tony,

  I hate writing to no one but myself, so I think I will write to you. It is because of you that I am here so I might as well keep you updated on what is going on.

  She started out by accounting her arrival the night before, the snow and breakfast, and Brad the breakfast chef, and then the short hike along the river and running into Brad.

  What is Brad’s story? At the campfire tonight he spent the entire time staring into the fire. Last night he was more like an immature lumberjack trying to show off. He didn’t once acknowledge me, unlike last night when he seemed to be watching me, but not. As a matter-of-fact he acted like I didn’t exist at all. He was a bump on a log . . . a bump on a rock when I saw him by the river.

  She considered that for a moment and then added,

  He did acknowledge me at the river. He said that there were no mashed potatoes. Is that weird or what? Is he playing games with me? What an idiot.

  She stopped to read what she’d written only to discover it was a full page and it was mostly about Brad. She’d skipped the entire rest of the day. She put a paragraph return between the morning hike and the evening campfire session.

  Mary is really fun, for an old person, and I really like her British accent and the funny British things she says. She’s fifteen or twenty years older than my mother would be now, so she is more like a grandmother. She blushed when I called her mother after she went on about how much things cost. She was cute. If I had a mother I’d like her to be like Mary.

  The guy at Pack It In Sports was weird. How did he know my name? Had to be a scam, and the guy from Wal-Mart had to be in on it. I should contact someone at Wal-Mart about him. His name was Erik.

  I told Beth I’d call her tomorrow. What more am I going to say when she doesn’t like what I’ve already said? And what if that thing happens to me again?