by Vicky de Leo
“No, the airline lost my luggage.” It was the first thing that came to mind.
Craning her neck to look around him, she asked, “Are your parents with you?”
“No, I came alone.” He decided to try to answer any questions as accurately as possible.
She gave him a strange look, but didn’t say anything. She showed him into the living room where she lit the fire, and then went out into the hallway to fetch a blanket for him.
Spying a newspaper, Joshua quickly grabbed it and scanned the headlines for the date, January 25th, same day, same year. Judging from the clock he’d past in the hall, and calculating the time difference between Boston and Guatemala, almost no time had elapsed between the time he left the dig and arriving in the park in Boston. Joshua expelled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
When Mrs. Stewart returned with the blanket, he wrapped it around his shoulders and stood in front of the fire. He surveyed the room. Everything looked exactly as he remembered it. It was a large room with big oversized leather chairs. A sofa faced the fireplace. It always reminded him of one of the men’s clubs his father had taken him to in London. An oil painting hung over the fireplace, but the rest of the room contained no family pictures or any of the feminine homey touches that older people’s homes usually have.
Joshua had not known his grandmother. She’d died when his father was a teenager. His grandfather had never remarried, seeming satisfied to live alone with only Mrs. Stewart to come in every day to cook and clean for him. Joshua knew his grandfather was still very involved in running the bank and served on the executive boards of several other companies.
Mrs. Stewart asked, “Was your grandfather expecting you? He didn’t mention it to me,”
“No, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing. You said he was out of town. How long will he be gone?”
“I expect him back tomorrow.”
Joshua hesitated, but then because he had no other options, he said, “All my money was in the luggage, I don’t have any place else to go. Do you think it would be all right if I stayed here?”
She smiled. “Of course, your grandfather would want you to stay. You can use your father’s old room.” Looking at the summer clothes he was wearing, she said, “I think there may still be some of his old clothes stored in there. They won’t be stylish, but they should fit you. Why don’t you go up, take a shower, get changed and I’ll fix you something to eat.”
Walking up the stairs, Joshua heaved a big sigh of relief. He was warm, with a place to stay and food to eat. Best of all, he had until tomorrow to decide what he was going to say to his grandfather. Maybe after a good night’s sleep, he’d know what to do. Wouldn’t it be great if he could really stay and start college as he planned? First, he would have to find a way to get in touch with his parents to let them know he was safe. They must be really worried by now.
At the top of the stairs, Joshua paused. His grandfather’s room was the first door on the left. The guest room where his parents stayed was next and at the end of the hall was his father’s old room. He walked down the hallway and opened the door. It looked exactly the same. He used to think it strange that a kid’s room had a double bed, until his father told him that when Sam was a teenager he grew so tall that they couldn’t find a single bed long enough for him. Grandfather had bought a double bed so Sam could lie crosswise and his feet wouldn’t hang off the end. When Joshua was little, it had seemed huge; now it seemed perfect. A wingback chair stood under the window and a writing desk next to the closet. Discarding the blanket, he headed for the bathroom next door.
After a long hot shower, he returned to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked in the mirror. He felt different. Studying his image, he realized he looked different as well, bigger somehow. He was surprised at how many muscles he had developed in the last couple of months. He opened the closet and picked out jeans and a sweater. Everything fit. He slipped the crystal back into the pocket of his jeans, not quite sure why, it just seemed important to keep it close.
Showered and dressed, he went downstairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Stewart had set out a steaming bowl of beef stew and thick slices of homemade bread.
“What would you like to drink?” she asked.
“A glass of milk would be great, if you have it.”
She poured a large glass. It was ice cold and tasted wonderful. Fresh milk was one of the things he missed most. Since most digs were in such remote places, he had to make do with powdered milk. When he finished the stew, she brought out brownies.
Now that he was full, he was exhausted. He still had a headache and was having trouble covering a huge yawn. “Thank you for everything. That was wonderful. I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble.”
“It was no trouble. You looked tired. You probably still have jet lag. Why don’t you go on up to bed? I’ll clean up here and see you in the morning. Your grandfather should be home around noon tomorrow.”
Joshua offered to help her, but she refused. He trudged up the stairs and fell into bed. He didn’t stir until the sun woke him around 10 a.m. Thankfully, his headache was gone. The aroma of something wonderful cooking stirred his hunger. He dressed quickly in the same clothes he’d worn the night before and went downstairs.
Mrs. Stewart was in the kitchen. The tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread filled the air. Sliding a roast in the oven, she said, “Sit down, Joshua. I just took some cinnamon rolls out of the oven, would you like one? Or I could make you a real breakfast of eggs and ham, if you like? We’ll be having lunch around one o’clock if your grandfather gets home on time, but I imagine someone growing as fast as you will be hungry again by then.”
Joshua shook his head. “The cinnamon rolls will be plenty. They smell great. Keep doing what you are doing.” He silently watched her knead bread dough, form it into loaves, and then set it aside to rise while he consumed three of the cinnamon rolls.
Mrs. Stewart hummed while she worked but didn’t say anymore.
At last, Joshua stood up, rinsed his glass, and said, “I think I’ll go into the library and see if I can find something to read.”
Joshua knew that his grandfather had an extensive library. Adjoining the library was his grandfather’s study. The door was open and when he looked in, he was surprised to see that his grandfather also had an up-to-date computer set up on the massive desk. Three walls of the library were floor to ceiling bookshelves, the fourth a wall of windows with French doors leading out to the back garden. Two large comfortable chairs faced the garden.
Joshua scanned the shelves. There were books on a variety of subjects as well as fiction. He could tell that most, if not all, of the books had been read, the covers worn with yellowing pages. There were even sections on paleontology, archeology, and anthropology. Joshua wondered if his dad had left them behind, or whether his grandfather had been researching the life that Sam led. He picked out one on the Maya, looking for anything resembling the crystal or the recess.
Now rested, with time to think, his mind returned to the extraordinary events of the day before. He took the crystal from his pocket and examined it. As farfetched as it seemed, the only answer he could come up with that explained anything, was that the crystal worked in conjunction with the recess to act as a transporter. Although, if that were true, how did you control it? Why did it send him here and how could he get back? It wouldn’t be much use if there were no way of returning or going on to other places. Was there another transporter somewhere in Boston? He sat thinking about it for a long time, until he heard the front door open. Assuming his grandfather must be back, Joshua stood up, squared his shoulders, and stepped into the hall to face him.
He watched his grandfather shrug out of his overcoat. Joseph Carson stood a few inches shorter than Joshua. He wore a dark suit, white shirt and a dark tie. His once black hair, now white, matched his mustache and neatly trimmed beard. Unlike some older men, he stood erect, giving off an air of power and determinatio
n. His dark brown eyes were alert and penetrating.
As Joseph hung up his hat and coat, he turned and saw Joshua. His mouth fell open. He stared at him for a few minutes before saying, “Harry? Is that you?”
Puzzled, Joshua said, “It’s me, Joshua, your grandson?”
H e shook his head. “Oh…Of course, Joshua.” Squinting, he looked more closely as if to make sure. “You’ve grown since I last saw you.” What are you doing here?” he asked sharply.
“I just dropped in to see you,” Joshua said with a smile hoping his grandfather would buy that.
“Are your parents here, too?” Joseph’s tone was softer, but he was still frowning.
“No, they’re still in Guatemala.”
His grandfather just looked at him, apparently waiting for an explanation.
Not knowing what to say, Joshua silently returned his stare.
“They let you come alone?” He raised both eyebrows.
“They didn’t exactly let me, but they didn’t try to stop me.” Joshua knew it sounded evasive, but hoped his grandfather wouldn’t pick up on it.
Joseph’s eyes narrowed as he looked steadily at Joshua. “Do your parents even know you’re here?”
Sticking to his decision to tell as much of the truth as he dared, Joshua replied, “Not yet. I’m not sure how to get in touch with them to tell them I arrived safely. You see they’re on a remote dig. They have a satellite phone, but it doesn’t work where they are and anyway I don’t have the number.” He stopped. Seeing his grandfather’s look of skepticism, he added, “It was in my luggage which got lost.” Might as well stick with the same story, he thought. It sounded lame even to Joshua. He looked down not wanting to meet his grandfather gaze. He noticed that his headache was back.
“When did you get here?” Joseph probed.
“Last night. Mrs. Stewart said it was all right if I stayed and I borrowed some of Dad’s old clothes that he left here. I hope that was okay.” This was harder than he thought it would be. He considered telling his grandfather the truth, but decided not to when his grandfather smiled.
“You’re welcome anytime. I’ve always wanted to be able to spend more time getting to know you, but your parents never stayed long. They were never willing to leave you here. You are not in trouble are you? Not running from anything I should know about?”
Joshua thought this was probably his grandfather’s subtle way of asking if he was wanted by the police or on drugs. “No, no, nothing like that. When did they ever leave me alone long enough to get into trouble?” Joshua said with a smile, trying to relax.
“You’re alone now,” Joseph said softly.
Joshua couldn‘t help it, he laughed. “If I was planning on getting into trouble, this is the last place I would go. As well known as you are, I’m pretty sure anything I do will immediately get back to you.”
“I guess that’s true. Still it‘s strange that your parents didn‘t call first.”
Joshua had no answer for that, so he just kept silent.
Mrs. Stewart came into the hallway. She looked from one man to the other before saying, “Good, you’re home. Lunch is ready.”
Joseph stepped forward, put his arm around Joshua‘s shoulders and said, “Come on, let’s go into lunch and you can tell me exactly what your plans are now that you’re here.”
Joshua relaxed and followed the older man into the dining room.
In spite of having eaten a couple of hours ago, Joshua found he was starving. As he piled his plate with roast beef, buttery mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and Mrs. Stewart’s homemade bread, he answered his grandfather’s questions about his parents and the dig, carefully omitting any mention of the niche or the crystal currently warming his pocket. They discussed the subjects he was already taking online.
When there was a lull in the conversation, Joshua asked, “Grandpa, who’s Harry?”
“What?”
“Who is Harry? Back when you first saw me, you asked if I was Harry.”
Joseph stopped eating, fork in the air. “Oh….Harry was my brother. You looked so much like him standing there, and I wasn‘t expecting you. It just took me by surprise.”
“I never knew you had a brother.”
“The last time I saw him was over forty years ago. He looked just like you do now.” He went back to eating, head down, not looking at Joshua.
Joshua could tell his grandfather would rather not talk about it, but a great uncle he’d never heard of was just too good a mystery to ignore. “Is he still alive?”
Joseph shrugged. “I don’t know. He disappeared. We never heard from him again.”
Joshua chuckled. “You thought I was his ghost, didn’t you?”
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Changing the subject, Joseph asked, “What are your interests? What do you want to major in?”
“I’m not sure. I really like music and photography. I play several instruments, and have tried my hand at composing, but I’m also a good photographer. I do most of the photography on the digs with my parents. I thought maybe I would start with a general liberal arts major. I have a keyboard that I take with me when we travel, but I didn’t bring it.”
“Artistic talents like your mother I see.” Joseph seemed lost in thought for a few minutes. “We do have a piano in the music room, but it hasn’t been used in years. Probably needs tuning. Your grandmother used to play the piano every evening. After she passed away, well . . . since neither your dad nor I play, we just stopped going in there. But there’s no reason why you can’t use it.” After a bit he added, “You know, if you wanted to stay, I think I might be able to get you transferred to Harvard for this semester. The dean is a personal friend of mine.”
Joshua’s hopes began to soar until his grandfather said, “But first we need to contact your parents. Let them know you’re safe and see what they think. Who’s sponsoring this dig? They probably know how to reach your parents.”
“The Smithsonian. You’re right. They’ll know the satellite phone number. They left several messages for my parents in the last couple of months.”
“I’ll have my secretary get the number from them first thing tomorrow morning. Why don’t you come with me to the office? If the airlines haven’t located your bags by now, then they’re probably lost for good. I think you’re going to need some more clothes and there’s a mall just across the street.” Without waiting for an answer, he went on, “In the meantime I have some papers I need to work on. The music room is the next door down from the living room.” He got up from the table, poked his head in the kitchen to thank Mrs. Stewart for a wonderful meal, and headed to his study.
Joshua couldn’t help wondering what would happen once his parents knew where he was. How would he explain how he got here? What did they think happened to him? He didn’t want them to worry. On the other hand, he didn’t want to go back either. He would have to tell them about the crystal. Dad would insist that it was an artifact and wouldn’t let him keep it. Somehow, he was strangely reluctant to give it up. Just having it in his pocket seemed to give him a feeling of confidence he’d never had before. He rationalized that he didn’t really know that the crystal had anything to do with his coming here. Maybe something else triggered the transporter. He knew his parents would continue their research once they knew he was safe. He decided he wouldn’t mention the crystal unless it became apparent that the two were connected.
When he opened the door to the music room, he could see that it hadn’t been used in awhile. No dust—Mrs. Stewart wouldn’t allow that—but it didn’t look like any other room in the house. In fact, it didn’t look like it belonged in this house at all. Where the rest of the house was austere, this room was crowded with doilies and family pictures on all the side tables. Music yellowed with age sat atop a baby grand piano. On one end of the room, two upholstered chairs covered in a floral fabric faced a red velvet loveseat. Several family portraits hung on the walls. In one corner, records were stacked neatly beside an o
ld stereo system with a turntable.
Joshua walked around the room looking at the pictures, stopping in front of one of the portraits hanging on the wall—a family portrait of a middle-aged couple and two sons. From the style of clothes, he was fairly certain that his grandfather was the teenage boy, so the younger son would have been Harry. Curious about the resemblance, he looked around the room to see if he could find any other pictures of Harry when he was older. In an album on one of the small tables, he found Harry’s graduation picture, neatly labeled with Harry’s name and the year on the back. His grandfather was right. Aside from the style of clothes, they did look a great deal alike.
Curiosity satisfied, he sat down at the piano and began to play. He’d never played a baby grand. The sound was incredible. It was a little out of tune but that didn’t mar his pleasure. He played several of the songs from the old sheet music on the piano.
His grandfather came in and stood in the doorway listening for a few minutes. Then he cleared his throat. Joshua stopped playing and looked up.
“I have reservations to go out to dinner. I thought you might like to go with me.”
Joshua went upstairs to see if he could find anything suitable to wear. He knew from experience that the kind of restaurants Grandfather went to required a jacket and tie. He found a pair of dark brown slacks and a brown tweed sport coat that didn’t look too bad. He paired it with a tan shirt and a striped tie. Then he went looking for shoes. Near the back of the closet was a pair of brown loafers.
When his grandfather had suggested buying new clothes, he almost said that he could send for his own from the Washington D.C. apartment his parents kept. All he’d taken to the dig were his work clothes. Looking at himself in the mirror now, he was proud to see he’d not only grown taller, but much more muscular. Clearly, his old things would no longer fit. He flexed his muscles a few times in the mirror and then laughed at himself. Feeling very confident, he went downstairs where his grandfather straightened his tie and pronounced him presentable.