Joe just lifted his hand. “Go.”
With a brief closing of his eyes, Frank paused, tilted his head, gained control of what he was feeling and raced out.
Another shutting of the quantum door, another pounding of Joe’s heart as he ran his hand slowly across the bridge of his nose. “What have I done?”
Compassionately, Andrea stepped to him. She gently laid her hand on his cheek. “Joe. You did all that you could. You tried.”
“Yeah, Joe.” Henry laid a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “You tried.”
“Joe, you knew this was a possibility,” Jason added.
“Tell me.” Joe lifted his head. “Just tell me. Our history, our memory is that Dean and Ellen were both trapped in the cryo explosion. Frank got Ellen out, but Dean was caught right after, in the second explosion. Is that . . . is that how it went down?”
Jason hesitated before answering. There was a nervous twitch to his jaw. “Exactly like that.”
“Then I failed,” Joe said.
“No,” Jason corrected, “we all failed. This was a group effort.”
“But this was also a father’s effort,” Joe said sadly. Slow he walked across the lab, needing the air, needing to get out of the time lab. “And trust me, there’s nothing worse than failing your kid.” He stepped and looked back to everyone. “Nothing.”
^^^^
How quickly had Ellen driven to town, faster than safety dictated. Frank, expecting to find Ellen at home or at Dean’s house, screeched the jeep to a stop when he saw her racing toward the clinic.
“El,” He called out as he jumped from the jeep.
“Hey, Frank.” Ellen paused on the steps. “He wasn’t home. Bet he’s still working.”
“El.”
“I have to check.” Turning and opening the double glass doors, Ellen ran down the silent halls of the clinic and straight into the dark lab. She took a few steps in, slowing down with each one. “Dean?” She whispered out. She heard the footsteps and her heart pounded. Wide grinned Ellen spun to the door. Her smile fell.
“El.” Frank walked in. “Let’s go home.”
“I have to find Dean,” Ellen said. “I wonder where he . . .”
“El, knock it off.”
“What?” Ellen snickered.
“Stop this.” Frank walked to her. “No one knows you better than I do. And you know . . .” Frank’s voice softened. “You know it didn’t work.”
“No. It had to work. It had to.” Ellen barged forward.
Frank sprang out his arm stopping Ellen and pulling her to him. He felt her fighting, trying to break free. “It didn’t work.”
“Frank. No . . .”
“El.” His deep whisper carried to her and with heavy truth. “For as much . . . for as much as I wanted it to work. He’s not coming back. He’s not.”
Ellen shivered a breath and pulled away from Frank, stepping deeper in the lab. “Why? Why didn’t it work? What went wrong?”
“Fate,” Frank answered. “The best person that could went down there and he tried. Nothing was probably more convincing than my Dad.” Frank closed his eyes at Ellen’s whimper. “But fate wouldn’t allow it. Things are meant to be.”
“No. For the first time, in all the tragedies that we had, we had a chance to take one back. Change it. And we blew it.”
“We didn’t blow it. No way. We gave it the best shot we could.” He spoke passionately. “If we were meant to be able to change time, you would be sitting right now at Dean’s house, never feeling the pain of this moment. And I wish to God, El, I wish with all my heart, you weren’t feeling this.”
“I wanted him back.”
“I did too, for this community, for me, but especially for you and the kids. But now we have to put it behind us and go on. We have to. For as empty as we feel, we have to face the fact. Dean’s . . . .Dean’s not coming back.”
Ellen felt the ringing of her sadness in her ears first, helpless her hands reached blindly out. She gripped Frank’s forearm only briefly before sliding it off and turning toward the counter. Hands grasping the edging, Ellen’s head dropped and she began to cry.
Right there, and all over again, Frank’s heart broke for her.
^^^^
Never one that held his alcohol well, Henry stopped at the social hall to have a few drinks. And not one gave its desired effect. No numbing of the disappointment and pain he felt. Heading home, Henry planned on writing in his journal. But he stopped right before his front door when through the corner of his eye he saw it. Two doors down, in the house where Dean and Ellen once lived, the light in the bedroom was on.
It was stupid, but a twinge of hope hit Henry and he bolted over. He spent the last hour at the social hall, only hearing from Frank--when he came in to snatch up a bottle--that Ellen was bad. Into Dean’s house Henry ran and straight up the steps. He closed his eyes when he hit the doorway and Ellen was sitting on the bed.
“I’m sorry, El.” Henry started to leave. “I saw the light and wondered who . . .”
“That’s all right.” Ellen had a box before her, and she held up a sweatshirt.
“Are you O.K.?” Henry asked.
Ellen’s hands gripped the grey shirt that Dean wore around the house. “No. What happened, Henry? How did it not work?” Ellen didn’t even look up.
As Henry went to answer, Joe did. “Can I . . .” Joe stepped inside the bedroom. “Can I be the one to tell her?”
“Sure, Joe.” Henry moved out of the way. “I’ll let you two be.” He paused in his leaving taking a second to look back into the bedroom one more time.
Joe made his way closer to the bed and to Ellen who sat there. “I stopped by the house. Johnny was watching the kids. I thought Frank would be here.”
Ellen shook her head. “I don’t know where Frank is. I think . . . I think he’s mad at me.”
Joe sat down on the bed. Ellen’s back was facing him. “Why would Frank be mad?”
“Because of the way I’m being about Dean. I guess I’d be the same way. I don’t know.”
“He’s not mad at you. Worried. Not mad. Are you mad at me?” Joe asked.
With an emotional release of her breath, Ellen turned around and faced Joe. “Why . . . Why would you even think that?”
“I let you down.”
“No. It didn’t work, and I let myself down. I let myself believe so much . . . so much that it would work.” Ellen tossed the sweatshirt she held. “What happened Joe? I thought, you know, that I’d suddenly get these memories about Dean telling me he saw you. I thought that.”
“I think Dean thought he was dreaming. And I couldn’t stay long. Alex was coming down the steps.”
“But you warned him.” Ellen said. “Right?”
“Yes. I told him that the password would be uncovered and with everything he was, get you out immediately. He nodded. He understood.” Joe explained.
“He tried. He did. He begged me to go, but I refused.”
“I’m sorry, Ellen.” Joe laid a hand on her cheek. “I am so, so sorry I got your hopes up. I’m sorry I let you down.”
“You did all you could. And I have to face it. Dean is not . . . he’s not coming back.” She swallowed hard and reached for the sweatshirt again. “And facing it is what I’m doing.”
Around her Joe’s hand reached for the box. He tilted it in and saw the emptiness.
Ellen emotionally chuckled. “O.K., I’m trying. But I can’t take anything from his drawers except this stupid sweatshirt that I hated when he wore. When we would argue, or fight, he’d put this on just to piss me off.” She smiled. “Now what I wouldn’t give to see him in it.”
“Do you think packing up his clothes is the way to face this and move on?”
“You would think, right. I mean, everything in this house is the same. As if I’ve been waiting for him to return. And the community probably needs the clothing. Everyone looks at me like I’m nuts. This grief is more than I can handle and I don’t understand why tha
t is. So I have to face it, move on. But Joe . . .” Ellen looked up at him. “I reach in the drawer. I touch his clothes. I feel so guilty.”
“I know that feeling.” Joe saw the curiosity in her eyes. “When Frank’s mother died, it happened just like with Dean. So fast, unexpected. I never saw it coming. I wasn’t ready. It was supposed to be a happy time for us. She went into have the baby and never came back out.” Joe’s voice dropped. “Complications.” He cleared his emotions from his throat. “I had to walk back into that waiting room and face my four boys. They were so young and excited, waiting to hear if they finally had a baby sister. I was useless. I never thought I’d feel pain like that. I couldn’t eat, sleep, I couldn’t even breath. And packing up her things . . .” Joe shook his head. “Two years. It took me two years to take the first item from the closet. And then slowly I removed them all.”
“Two years?” Ellen asked. “But it’s different. The community needs the house and the clothes.”
“No,” Joe told her. “As your father I am telling you to take all the time you need. As the leader, we don’t need it. Not yet. Forcing yourself to face it will not make it easier. You have to find the comfort in his work, things he loved, and his children’s faces. It’s there. All of that is Dean, alive in his own way.” Joe closed one eye and dropped his voice. “You just have to wait until the pain subsides a little until you can recognize it.”
“Like the coat.” Ellen ran her hand down it. “I guess people think I’m nuts about wearing this huh?”
“I’m not gonna lie to you . . . yes,” Joe said. “But . . .” He held up a finger. “Between you and me, my God, am I envious. That article of clothing touched his body every single day almost. What I wouldn’t have given to be able to wear something of Mare’s. But if I did that . . .” A crooked smiled crossed his face. “Imagine the way people would have viewed me. So you wear that coat. You wear it.”
“Joe.” Ellen whimpered slightly, her head falling forward into him. “I miss him so much.”
“I do, too, Kiddo.”
“We went through so much him and me. I hurt him at times more than I should have. I just wished when he died, that he knew how strong I felt about him.”
“He did,” Joe said.
“No, Joe. I may have told him I loved him. But he didn’t know the extent of it. I didn’t know the extent of it until he was gone.”
“No, Ellen.” Joe pulled her back and looked at her, “He knew because I told him.”
Ellen’s eyes grew wide. “What?”
“He may have thought he dreamt it, but I told him. I let him know how much you loved him.”
Closing her eyes, Ellen reached out and grabbed hold of Joe. “Thank you.”
“I promise you, you will get through this. I promise you.” Joe held her tighter. “It just takes time. Not changed or rippled time. But time.”
In that bedroom, on the bed, Ellen not only took comfort in Joe’s arms, but in his father’s words as well.
^^^^
The heels of his combat boots dug deep into the cold hard dirt. The half empty bottle of whiskey dangled from Frank’s hand as he sat before Dean’s grave. He’d lift the bottle, take a drink, and then rest the curve of the bottom against the ground. “Do you know how pissed off I am at you.” Frank tilted his head with closed eyes. “So mad, Dean. Why? Why didn’t you just fuckin pick her up, carry her out of the lab, and lock the door. Why?” Frank took another drink. “You loved her. I know you did. So why did you hurt her like this?” Staring down to the bottle, Frank turned it like a drill into the dirt as he spoke. “You should see her. She’s a mess. For all the fighting we did over her, do you know you won? I lost her. Everyone’s lost her. Including the kids. I want . . . I want to help her, you know.” Frank lifted the bottle and took another drink. “But I don’t know how, or what to do.” Frank’s voice dropped to a passionate whisper. “You knew her, Dean . . . you knew her. Tell me what to do. Give me a sign, something. Tell me what to do.”
Silence, nothing. A complete emptiness engulfed Frank. He waited with bated breath. Anxious as if Dean would actually give him the answer from beyond. And Frank waited a long time, but nothing. There were no ghostly apparitions, no voices from beyond or little angels delivering the answer he needed. Only quiet and once again the cold reality that Dean Hayes was really, truly gone.
HENRY’S JOURNAL
November 16
I thought tonight, when I sat down to write, that I would be writing about the success in bringing Dean back. The whole trip was finely tuned. Go back. Do as stated. Run into no one. Ripple only Dean’s death. I checked the history disks, not even a period or comma was different. Nothing. Like everything, Joe did his job well, too well. He rippled nothing. And, Dean is not here. The small group of us, the ones who started this place with Dean Hayes, the ones who held out hope and faith in the stupid time machine, now have snap out of the time machine fantasy. Come back to the real world again. A world without Dean.
CHAPTER SIX
November 17
“Not good.” Joe lit his cigarette, dropped his lighter then leaned back in his desk chair. “Better though, a little.” He told Jason.
“I heard she dropped a box off at distribution with some things of Dean’s.” Jason said.
Joe chuckled, “One sweatshirt.” He shrugged. “I don’t know Jason. Ellen’s tough. When Taylor and Josh died, she was bad but she handled their deaths better.”
“That’s because those deaths were unavoidable. The entire surviving population was going through the same thing. Everyone lost,” Jason explained. “Everyone. Comfort in numbers. But now, she’s singled out. This is mainly her loss. It’s different.”
“So what now?” Joe asked, “round the clock monitoring checks of the case? Of course, you and I are the only ones that know about this virus.”
“You know . . .” Jason leaned into the desk. “I’m very curious as to what led my future self to believe that it was the case. Yeah, the cooling unit malfunctioned. And I realize why I wouldn’t say destroy the vials, there may be something there we need or used. But why didn’t I just say, watch the case. I mean I went to the extreme with telling myself to stop Dean’s death.”
“Delirium,” Joe factually stated. “You were sick, dying, and you were reaching for help.”
“No.” A shake of his head brought Jason’s facial disagreement. “I agree with the delirium to an extent. I just think I left things out. Because, this Jason, isn’t convinced that it’s in that case.”
“I have to disagree. You’re too smart. Which brings us back to the question. What now?”
“I see a few options.” Jason stated. “Like you say monitor the case. Though risky, I can start trying to examine the vials. We could . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Go into the future and learn about the virus that . . .”
“Whoa,” Joe held up a halting hand. “I thought you said we can’t go into the future.”
“Well, I . . .” Jason stuttered. “Well, Joe, we got a letter from the future, obviously it come from somewhere. If it came from there, we can go there. Learn and investigate that way or . . . use the power supply left and go back…”
“Another time trip.” Joe rubbed his eyes.
“Yes. Go back to investigate who possibly did it to us.”
“You mean hit us with the new plague?” Joe asked with a chuckle. “Jason, again, you’re going back to the fact that it’s not in the case.”
“We should look at that as a possibility. All angles.”
“Who?” Joe asked.
“The Society.”
Joe laughed. “Jason, George is dead.”
“True, but he had a plan. We know he has people left to keep it going.”
“But will they?” Joe held a tone of disbelief. “Really? He was the leader.”
“But he was only one man. And trust me the society is bigger than just George Hadley.”
With Jason’s words and a new seriousness, Joe slipp
ed into thought.
^^^^
The noisy vacuum cleaner that vibrated a painful irritation to Frank’s wrist, silenced at the same time the fragile little hand tugged on his leg.
“Hey, Alex.” Frank whipped the chord from the wall and started to wind it up. “What do you need?”
“Who are these people?” Alexandra’s little hand extended up a small stack of photographs to Frank.
With such awe, and a slight chuckle, Frank looked down. “Oh, my God,” he shook his head and snickered. “This kid here.” Frank crouched down to be at Alexandra’s level. “This is Uncle Robbie. Remember him? He had to be about twelve here. So small, like you.” Frank poked her nose. “And this kid.” Frank pointed to another picture. “This kid with the long girl like hair. My brother Hal. He was the trouble maker. Man . . .” He smiled again. “Pap-Pap used to throw us all in a car and drive us somewhere, Mommy too. A family trip. This is a picture from one of those.”
“You look like you’re having fun.” Alexandra commented. “I bet you wish Uncle Robbie liked it here so he would have stayed, huh? Do you think he’ll come back?”
Frank jolted a quick look to Alexandra. So easily the children of Beginnings were sheltered from painful truths, but too bad not from all. “Um, no. Uncle Robbie’s not coming back.”
“Like my Dad?”
A slightly open mouth brought no words. Frank cleared his throat. “Alex, where did you get theses from? I haven’t seen these in years.”
“Mommy’s box in the basement.”
“Mommy’s memorabilia box?” Frank asked. “Alex, Mommy’s not been in the best mood lately. She’s really fussy about the box. I haven’t been allowed to see it at all. She’s gonna get mad if she knows you were in there.”
Alexandra’s finger went to her mouth in a nervous manner.
“Tell you what.” Frank stood up. “I’ll put these back and won’t mention it.” He winked then bent down and kissed her. “I’ll be back.”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 162