The Willard

by LeAnne Burnett Morse

  He wiped his eyes and stood to greet his wife. As he did he noticed the ugly scars on his legs. He realized his wife had no visible reaction to them. She acted like they had always been there. He had a thought.

  “Babe, did I ever tell you how I got these scars?”

  “Only about a thousand times. I will say the story has worked wonders at keeping Will from the edge of the rocks.”

  “How so?”

  “How so? Calvin, the boy loves his daddy, but he doesn’t want to walk around with scars the rest of his life like you have.”

  He needed her to fill in the blanks. “And how exactly have my scars kept Will safe?”

  “Baby, those ugly scars taught our boy that climbing on the rocks at Lookout Mountain is dangerous! But don’t you worry. I’ve always thought they made you seem a little dangerous, which every girl secretly wants of course.”

  She laughed over her shoulder and left the room. Somehow history had been rewritten, and yet everything that mattered had remained the same. Calvin gathered up the souvenirs and headed for the bedroom door. He could hear the girls teasing their brother that dad had probably forgotten the football jersey. He listened to them for a minute and then started down the stairs.

  Yes, Calvin thought as the kids gathered around him to get their goodies. Climbing Lookout Mountain can be dangerous. But the view from the top, not to mention the sound of freedom, is so worth it.

  CHAPTER 82

  OLIVIA FORDHAM

  2016

  “Olivia. Olivia, it’s time to wake up.”

  Olivia heard Jane’s voice and felt her friend place her hand on her forehead as if to check for fever. She opened her eyes.

  “What time is it, Jane?” Olivia asked as she sat up in bed.

  “It’s seven-thirty. Are you feeling alright?”

  “Just a little groggy, that’s all.”

  “I was so worried. When you didn’t call last night I used my key and came to check on you. I’ve never known you to go to bed so early, but you were sleeping comfortably so I left you alone. Just to be safe I came back around ten o’clock and you were tossing and turning and calling out names I’m unfamiliar with.”

  “What names?”

  “Victoria and James. And you kept talking to Edward so I went to find Mr. Chase, but he was not in the hotel overnight. I wasn’t able to wake you so I called Dr. Goodwin in New York. He thought there was no cause for alarm. He said your body would be more tired and need more and more sleep as the tumor grows so he urged me to leave you be. I checked on you all during the night and you were at times peaceful and agitated. You seemed to be having very vivid dreams.”

  They just think they’ve had a dream or others assume they had too much wine with dinner or some bad fish. Wasn’t that what Edward had said? But there was no way what had happened was just a dream. Olivia threw the covers back and hurried to the closet with Jane at her heels. The clothing hanging there was what her maid in New York had packed. There were no Edwardian dresses or elaborate hats. She walked to the bedroom window and looked out. The cars were normal, late model sedans and the ubiquitous taxis.

  Jane knew all about the episodes Olivia had and she was accustomed to caring for her through them be it a few hours or several days. She could tell Jane what happened and she knew her friend would understand. But something held her back. This time had not been like the others and she wasn’t sure she could explain it. She also wasn’t sure she wanted to explain it. Unlike the other times, she didn’t want this one to be explained away by her medical condition. It was too personal and too real.

  “I was exhausted yesterday afternoon and decided to turn in early. I’m so sorry I worried you, Jane.”

  Jane wasn’t convinced Olivia was telling her the whole story, but she was sensitive to her friend’s feelings about what she was going through. Olivia had been a strong, independent woman for as long as Jane had known her and she knew these episodes and the life she was facing were hard for her to reconcile. She decided to let it go. Olivia looked none the worse for wear after her difficult night.

  “I’m going to get dressed. What is the first item on our agenda today?”

  “You have a meeting with the Smithsonian representatives here at nine o’clock and then a luncheon with the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation folks at noon.”

  “Wonderful. Please have coffee and tea service and pastries sent up for the morning meeting.”

  The meeting went according to plan and when the representatives from the Smithsonian left Olivia was satisfied that everything was on track for the upcoming announcement. She had just enough time to freshen her makeup and head over to the luncheon. Jane had talked with Mr. Chase and the car was waiting.

  Olivia stared into the mirror, freshening her powder and lipstick without conscious thought. Her mind was miles away, years away in fact. She was walking the streets with Victoria and listening to James say things that would have been unheard of a hundred years later. She was listening to women argue for rights she herself had always enjoyed, and she was watching as her family history was being written. It couldn’t have been a dream. She knew that it wasn’t. Perhaps it was the tumor. She struggled with the possibilities, but knew she could never ask Edward Chase. The likelihood that the entire experience was yet another “episode” was too high and she didn’t want him to think her mad. She ran a comb lightly over her silver hair and called out to Jane that she was ready to go.

  As she crossed the lobby of the hotel she heard her name called and she saw that Edward was standing behind the concierge desk motioning for her to join him. She sent Jane ahead to the car and walked over to speak with him. He was helping another guest and she stood to the side waiting for him to finish.

  While she waited, she looked around her at the furnishings and thought how different they looked now. Her eyes eventually settled on the wall of cubbies behind where Edward was standing. She glanced across them until something caught her eye. It wasn’t obvious, just something that didn’t seem to fit. It was a tiny cubby, unlike the others in that it was slim enough for just a single message to be held there. It was nearly invisible to the naked eye but Olivia had always had an eye for symmetry so she noticed the simple difference.

  While she thought about what that could mean Edward finished with his guest and came to speak with her.

  “Did you have a pleasant evening?” he asked.

  She looked for anything in his expression that might indicate he knew about her experience, but there was nothing there besides his normal, professional demeanor.

  “Yes. I was more tired than I realized and I slept soundly.”

  “That’s excellent news. I trust you have a full day planned?”

  “Very full. I’m on my way to a luncheon now.”

  “Yes, of course. I wanted to let you know I have a package here for you. Since you’re going out I’ll have it sent up to your room. One of the maids found it last night here in the lobby and recognized that it belonged to you. Would you like to see it before you leave?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He reached under the desk and pulled out a large box. When he opened it Olivia pushed aside the tissue paper and what she saw took her breath away. It was the yellow silk hat she had worn the day of the march, the last time she had spent with Victoria and James. She looked up and saw that Edward knew exactly what it was. They exchanged a look that spoke volumes.

  “Shall I send it up to your room?”

  “Yes, Edward, please do. It is one of my greatest treasures.”

  CHAPTER 83

  TOM KELLY

  2016

  Tom stood dripping on the bathmat in his suite at the Willard. After his return trip from New York he found that Ethan had removed all the communication equipment from the suite and left a note thanking him for all he had done to avert disaster. In the note he said he would come by to see Tom the next morning and urged him to get a good night’s sleep. Tom did just that, and when he woke up the next morni
ng it was to a wake-up call from Edward Chase telling him his reservations for lunch with his investors were all set and that he would have a bottle of champagne standing by for what he knew was bound to be a celebration. He was back to his normal life and everything that had happened over the past few days seemed to be only a dream. He couldn’t even find the note Ethan had left. It was like none of it had ever happened. He decided to give the bath salts another try but vowed not to fall asleep this time.

  During his long, lavender soak he thought about all that had happened. Anatoly/Hamish/Boris and the near-disaster of nuclear war. Ethan and his mother, an intern pouring through classified documents, and finding the lynchpin of the problem. The two Kennedys and their reliance on him during the crisis. The whole thing was crazy and by the time he was drying off to get ready for his meeting Tom decided it had all been a very elaborate dream. He wanted to sit down at his laptop and look up everything he could find on the crisis, but there was no time. He dressed in his best suit, which meant the one that was the least wrinkled from his travels, and went downstairs to meet his potential investors. The dog and pony show was on.

  Chase had arranged for a private table in a corner of the restaurant and Tom met Scott Langdon there a few minutes before the others were scheduled to arrive. They caught up on everything Tom had uncovered on his scouting trip and Langdon was blown away by the photos from Abu Dhabi. He let Tom know that he would only have to impress one person today instead of two. One of the potential investors had told Langdon that he couldn’t make the meeting, but that if he got a good report from the person coming today he would be in for $250,000. That meant Tom had to pull out all the stops to make this meeting go well.

  Right on time a well-dressed woman in her thirties walked in trailed by a couple of men in suits. It was clear she was the one in charge. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and piercing eyes and when she smiled at him Tom thought he could feel a blush creeping into his cheeks.

  Shit, he thought. I was planning to pitch to an old crusty soldier-type.

  He knew he would have to get past his attraction to her and stay on script, although the script would have to be altered a bit. All he had been told about the investor was that he (Tom had assumed he’d be dealing with a man, mistake number one) represented a company that does business in both the public and private sector and has significant Defense Department contracts in play. Tom was pretty sure this woman wouldn’t be as open to the boy’s club way of thinking he was prepared for, given the three amigos who had recommended her company.

  She accepted a warm hug from Langdon and stuck her hand out to introduce herself to Tom.

  “Hello, I’m Emily Travers from PCS.”

  “Tom Kelly,” he said as he shook her hand.

  “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from Uncle Scott,” she said as she flashed that killer smile again.

  Uncle Scott? Tom glanced at Langdon.

  “I’m not really her uncle,” Langdon said. “I was very close to her father and he made her call me “uncle” because I told him “Mr. Langdon” was too formal for such a little girl. Now she’s not a little girl anymore, but she insists on calling me that.” Langdon gave Emily a look like a father would give his daughter. Tom could see that they were close. “You should know she also has an Uncle Joe and an Uncle Marcus. All three of us knew her father well.”

  With the preliminaries out of the way Tom launched into his pitch. Even with her close connection to the three men it was clear right away that Emily Travers came to the meeting to be sold on the idea. She wasn’t giving away money just because she liked the three men. Tom worked hard and showed her the script, the location photos, and the headshots and bios of the actors he had lined up. He showed her the projected cost versus three profit scenarios. Actually, only two made an actual profit, the other was a break-even scenario he felt duty-bound to include. He’d make sure she got her money back if he had to mortgage his arms and legs, but he couldn’t promise her a profit and she seemed impressed that he was up front about it.

  Finally, he ended with the importance of the story. He talked about the men and women in uniform, their sacrifices and what makes them the kind of people who are willing to give everything for a nation that seems to offer them comparatively little in return. He knew he had her with his closing. She was one of them—a true believer. She agreed to fund $1,000,000 on the spot. With the second investor’s promise of $250,000, Tom had everything he needed to make the project happen. The light was officially green and Tom felt a lightness he hadn’t in ages. He knew it would wear off and he’d start feeling the pressure of delivering on his promises, but for the moment he was enjoying the sensation.

  As usual, Edward Chase seemed to know everything that happened in the hotel and he arrived with his bottle of champagne and filled everyone’s glasses. They shared a toast and Emily’s assistants excused themselves to deal with other business. As Tom lingered over the bubbly with Emily and Scott he asked about her company.

  She told him the company had been founded by her father in 1970, five years before she was born. She had grown up learning from him and eventually working alongside him until his death two years ago in a skiing accident. PCS built communication platforms and had been integral in the early use of e-mail and improvement of fax technology. Today, they built multimillion-dollar secure systems that could encrypt messages that were sent from military bases to aircraft in theatres of war and to secure sites around the world. They were on the leading edge in both military hardened technology and consumer-protection data management.

  It sounded like a big job and he was glad someone with her sensibilities was doing it. They moved on from business talk to how her father had become acquainted with his three veterans. Tom learned that her father had taken a leave of absence from college and joined the Army in 1965. He met Langdon and Green in Vietnam and became friendly with Chamberlain later. They had stayed in touch throughout their various careers and each served as consultants for the others’ work.

  The afternoon was getting late and Emily said she needed to get back to her office. PCS had a Washington field office, but their main facility was out of state. She walked with them to the hotel lobby and handed Tom her business card. It was heavy cream card stock with the PCS logo in bright orange with a palmetto tree and a crescent moon. The image seemed vaguely familiar and he realized he had never asked her what PCS stood for.

  “It stands for Palmetto Communication Strategies. And if you’re wondering about the odd orange logo you can thank my father for that. It’s the state symbol for South Carolina, and of course, it’s Clemson orange. My father was a diehard Clemson man. He even turned down a full scholarship to the University of Virginia in favor of Clemson and I’m not sure my grandmother ever got over the shock.”

  Tom felt a nagging feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Emily Travers smiled at him again, shook his hand and left the Willard. Tom sat down hard in one of the French chairs.

  “Are you okay, Tom?” Langdon asked. “You weren’t expecting her to say yes were you?” He gave Tom two hard pats on the back. “You’re in it now, kid. Time to make a movie.”

  “Her father. Tell me about him,” Tom said.

  Langdon thought Tom was looking a little green.

  “He was a great man. Before college and before the war he had been an intern at the White House around the time of the missile crisis with Cuba. I don’t know what he saw and he never talked about it, but it changed him. After that all he ever talked about was how we could fight the war with guns and tanks, but that the real war would be decided by communication between leaders. He was convinced a miscommunication at that level could prove disastrous on the battlefield. I didn’t really get it, but he must have been onto something because he went home to South Carolina after the war and turned it into a booming business. I think half of that little town where he built it must work there.”

  “Fort Mill,” Tom muttered.

  “What? Yeah, that
sounds right. I wish you could have met him, Tom. He would have liked you. But then again, I’m not sure Ethan York ever met a man he didn’t like.”

  Tom stood up and bid Langdon goodbye. He gathered his bags and went to check out of the hotel. Edward Chase had asked him to stop by the concierge desk on his way out. After they said their goodbyes, Chase walked to the wall of cubbies and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Tom took it and slipped it into the outer pocket of his briefcase. At Chase’s insistence he took the hotel car to the airport. This time it was a brand new Cadillac. Only the best from the Willard.

  On the flight home he took the paper Chase had handed him from his briefcase. He unfolded it and found it was the note that Ethan had left him the night he removed all the phone equipment from his suite. He read the last lines the young man had written him. He hadn’t noticed before the palmetto tree and crescent moon Ethan had drawn next to his signature.

  If I don’t see you in the morning I know our paths will cross again someday. Thank you for all you’ve done. I hope someday I can contribute to this country half as much as you have done these past days.

  Sincerely,

  Ethan York

  Tom got off the plane, bought a bouquet of his mother’s favorite lilies, and told the taxi driver to take him to Unity Cemetery. He knelt by her grave and placed the flowers lovingly at the base of the headstone.

  “Mom, I have something to tell you. I’m going to be a filmmaker.”

  EPILOGUE

  Evening had fallen on Washington, D.C. and Edward Chase was eager to bring his day to a close. He went about his tasks as usual, but couldn’t shake the feeling of melancholy that had plagued him for days. The year so far had been a difficult one, among the most difficult he had known. One of his travelers had died while traveling and he hadn’t been sure whether or not the man would wake up in modern times. Another had a health problem he hadn’t known about and he had nearly pushed her too far. More than ever before, he was struck with the knowledge that he was playing with people’s lives. But he couldn’t stop, for his hardest year by far had been the one where his traveler had failed the task she was given. The consequences had been terrible, although he and the woman were the only ones who knew for certain because they had been the only ones privy to both timelines. The woman had not been able to forgive herself and was currently confined to a mental hospital where she raved day after day about traveling back in time and how she had changed the course of history. Of course, no one believed her and Chase would never forgive himself for choosing her and ruining her life. Until that day he had naively thought success was guaranteed. Now he knew failure was possible and it haunted him each and every time he had to choose another traveler. But what was the alternative? He had chosen this life and he had no choice but to live it until such time as his work was finished. He knew that when that day came, he, like the librarian who had chosen him so many years before, would resume his normal, human life. He would resume aging and live out his days as any other man until he passed from this life. No one would know who he had been, just as no one knew of the others. The travelers would forget about him, attributing their experiences to dreams or sickness. Those who knew the truth guarded it for themselves. Only a few would seek further, as he had. Perhaps some would go far enough to take his place guiding travelers.