Think about what you need to do, I told myself as I walked. Focus. Focus. I wiped the tears from my eyes with my fingertips, stiffening my spine, and by the time I reached the condo, my eyes were dry and my plan in place.
29
It was a long, long wait until nine o’clock, when I planned to leave the condominium. I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and I looked in the refrigerator to see if something would pique my interest, but I couldn’t muster up an appetite. There were only a few things in the refrigerator anyway: milk, half a block of cheddar cheese, a carton of eggs, a plastic container of strawberries. I would leave it all behind in a show of optimism that I’d be back long before the food went bad. I’d also leave my clothes and Angela’s bassinet here, I thought, along with the iBook and my phone. The gadgets would do me no good in 1970. The one thing I would make sure to take, though, was the packets of photographs I had of my daughter.
I sat on the three-sided sofa, watching darkness fall and the lights blink on in the sea of buildings in front of me, but it wasn’t the buildings I was seeing. Instead, I pictured Joanna alone in the isolation room. The nurses would take good care of her in my absence, but not the way I would.
At eight forty-five, I put on my jacket. I looked down at the coffee table where I’d left my phone and iBook and the sling and had a sudden idea. Slipping the sling on over my jacket, I headed for the kitchen, where I reached into the refrigerator for the carton of eggs. I slid the carton into the sling with a sense of satisfaction. The eggs would tell me for certain if Joanna would be safe when I landed on the dunes.
I walked the mile and a half to Central Park with resolute steps, going over and over the path I would take through the park to the bridge in my mind. There were not many people on the street at this hour and I was glad. I didn’t want to be observed as I concentrated on what I needed to do.
It took some courage to walk onto the dark path that led into the park. There were streetlights, yes, but they were not close to one another and the pools of light they cast were a good distance apart. My flashlight was heavy and sturdy, and if anyone came near me I would whack the hell out of them with it. It wasn’t so much my safety I cared about as Joanna’s. I needed my plan to work. I didn’t have time for a trip to the emergency room. I wasn’t going to let any Central Park hoodlum get in my way.
I came to a fork in the path and felt a moment of self-doubt. I didn’t recall this fork in my memory. I turned right and felt a flutter of anxiety in my belly as two young men appeared in the darkness in front of me. Touch me and I’ll kill you, I thought to myself. They were holding hands and they dodged me on the path, and I imagined they were no happier to see me than I was to see them. I looked over my shoulder to be sure they were still walking away from me. They were. I was safe.
At nine fifty, I spotted the bridge ahead of me, illuminated in moonlight. I let out my breath in relief, knowing that I’d taken the correct path. I’d imagined waiting on the bridge until I could step off at eleven-fourteen, but now that I saw how exposed it was, I needed a new plan. Looking around to be sure I was alone, I slipped carefully into the brush near the entrance to the bridge, my flashlight darting though the confusion of shrubs and vines in front of me. I found the stepladder, opened it, and sat down on it, turning off my light and reaching behind me to slip it into Hunter’s yellow backpack. I would wait there until a few minutes before I was to step off.
Only now did my heart start to race at the thought of leaping from the bridge. It had been frightening to step off from the end of the Nags Head pier, but I’d had Hunter’s hand to hold. Now that experience felt like a dream, an impossibility, and I was suddenly glad I didn’t have Joanna with me. I didn’t want to risk her life as well as my own.
By the time eleven o’clock rolled around, I’d convinced myself I would fall into the pond when I stepped off. How deep was it? Would I drown in the darkness or was it so shallow that I’d break a leg and have to somehow drag myself to the weedy shore? I swallowed against the rising panic, my imagination out of control.
When the illuminated face of my chronometer read 11:05 and I could feel my heart pounding in my temples, I heard chatter on the path leading toward the bridge. I looked down at my body and the ladder, making sure I was covered by darkness. The street lamp caught the intruders: a young couple—teenagers?—both dark-haired and slender. They held hands, pressing their shoulders up against each other. The girl laughed, the sound echoing in the darkness. Not a soul had passed by in the hour and a half I’d been sitting there and now this?
In a moment, they fell out of my view, but I could hear them talking. I strained to listen. The chatter grew quieter, but it never ceased, and I knew they had stopped on the bridge.
Quietly, I stood up. The ladder made a barely perceptible squeak as I folded the legs together. I put it over my arm and walked as slowly and softly as possible to the edge of the brush so I could see the couple between the branches of a tree. They leaned against the north side of the bridge, chatting softly between kisses. The half-moon outlined their bodies in silver.
Go, I thought. Leave.
My knees shook as I balanced myself in the overgrowth, trying not to make a sound. The couple had stopped talking now. They were deeply entwined in each other’s arms and showed no sign of leaving.
At ten minutes past eleven, I could wait no longer. I lifted the stepladder over my arm again and walked resolutely out of the trees and onto the path. In a moment I was on the bridge. The couple was so absorbed in each other that they didn’t notice me at first, but as I neared the center of the bridge, they turned to face me, the moonlight reflecting off their startled faces.
I smiled at them as though I was doing nothing out of the ordinary as I set the stepladder in what I hoped was the exact center of the south-facing stone wall of the bridge. I opened it slowly, glancing at my chronometer. Two minutes.
“Don’t mind me,” I said to the couple with a smile that belied the nausea I was fighting.
“What are you doing?” the girl asked.
“Just getting ready to take a picture,” I said. “Sorry to disturb you.” I wondered if they could tell I was wearing a baby sling over my jacket? I hoped the carton of eggs wasn’t visible or they’d really think I was crazy.
“Be careful,” the guy said as I stepped onto the first rung of the ladder, then the second. I would need to step on the top of the ladder to be able to get onto the broad surface of the wall.
“I do this all the time,” I said.
“She doesn’t have a camera.” The woman spoke in a near whisper to her partner.
Thirteen after eleven.
I stood on the top of the ladder, leaning over, my hands on the smooth stone. One more step. Just one. I lifted my leg.
“Hey, stop!” the guy said. I heard him start toward me, his feet scraping on the pavement as I raised myself onto the top of the wall. Thirty seconds left. He grabbed for my leg. I kicked his arm away.
“Leave me alone!” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Call 911!” he shouted to his girlfriend, then to me, “This bridge isn’t even high enough to do the job, lady!” he said. “You’ll just hurt yourself!” He reached for me again, but I jerked my leg away from him and stepped forward into the air. Somewhere behind me, I heard the girl scream and the world went white, as though I’d stepped into the moon.
30
HUNTER
September 1970
Nags Head
This was Carly’s last chance.
Mine, too, I supposed, at least in Patti’s eyes. She’d still been in bed when I left the house before dawn and drove to Jockey’s Ridge. We’d stayed up most of the night, talking in bed or staring at the ceiling, both of us with the same fear: Carly wouldn’t show up.
“I can’t bear it,” Patti had said. “I can’t sit on the dunes for a fourth time and watch her not come.”
I couldn’t blame her. I felt the same way.
I parked the Impala ne
ar the dunes. For the fourth time, I kicked off my sandals, grabbed my flashlight and thermos and began walking up the first dune, the circle of light from my flashlight bouncing against the sand. The morning was chilly. Cold for September, actually, and it was a reminder of how long Carly had been gone. The first time I’d waited for her to arrive I’d been sweating.
I didn’t feel optimistic. If everything had gone according to plan—a successful surgery, a healthy baby—wouldn’t Carly have taken an earlier portal? If she didn’t show up this morning, could I make myself go to 2001 to try to find her? I could send her back, although I wouldn’t be able to return myself. Which of us would Patti want? I knew my wife still loved me, despite her recent anger, but there was no contest when it came to which of us she would want to save.
I climbed higher, my thoughts and fears a jumbled mess. I was glad Patti hadn’t come with me. I needed to feel the fear all on my own.
I reached the top of the first dune as dawn was breaking and I could finally get my bearings in the gray light. Below me, in the valley between the two dunes, there was a patch of color in a sea of pale sand. A pile of clothing maybe? It was not moving, but as the sky lightened over the ocean behind me, I made out Carly’s long blond hair spread out like a fan against the sand. Thank God! Was she moving? Yes, just a little. I dropped my flashlight and half ran, half slid down the dune, calling her name.
31
CARLY
I dreamed I was sitting in the CICU, Joanna in my arms. She reached a hand toward my mouth the way she did sometimes, her blue-gray eyes locked on mine. I gently nibbled her fingers with my lips. Then I lifted my head, puzzled by a sound. Someone was calling my name.
Carly!
The voice came from far away. Another part of the hospital? Or through the trees in Central Park? Or … Oh! My eyes fluttered open. I remembered!
My head felt so heavy. My hands clutched sand as I tried to sit up.
“Carly!”
Hunter. It was Hunter calling me.
“Here,” I tried to shout, but the word came out as a whisper. I managed to push myself up, my hands pressing hard into the sand, until I was sitting. I was surrounded by the dunes and a sky the color of peaches. Hunter ran toward me. He was a hazy image, sand spraying behind him, and I must have briefly lost consciousness because one moment he was flying down the dune, the next he had his arms around me. I grabbed his shoulders, pressed my face into the fabric of his shirt, and sobbed.
“Where’s the baby?” he asked.
He would have to wait for the answer. Right now, I just needed to touch him. Touch 1970. The weight of knowing I was an impossible distance from Joanna squeezed my heart. She was hundreds of miles and thirty-one years away from me. I choked on my tears with grief and fear.
Hunter drew back from me. Looked into my eyes. “The baby?” he asked again.
“I had to leave her.” My voice came out in a husky dry whisper. I cleared my throat. “She wasn’t ready to leave the hospital yet.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “Oh, damn. I should have given you more portals. I—”
“You have to get me back there, Hunter.” I clutched his arm. “Now. Right away. Please.”
He stared at me as though he didn’t understand what I was asking. Then he nodded. “All right,” he said. “First, let’s get you home. Then I’ll go…” He frowned, touching the lump jutting from the sling at my chest. “What’s this?” he asked.
I’d nearly forgotten. My fingers moved jerkily as I reached into the sling and withdrew the carton of eggs.
“What the…” Hunter said.
I rested the carton on my lap and worked the lid open. The eggs were perfect, every one. “I wanted to know if Joanna would be safe when I traveled with her.”
Hunter laughed and hugged me again. “I told you she would be,” he said.
I looked into his blue eyes. “Get me back to her.”
He nodded. “I will. I promise.” He unscrewed the top of the thermos he was carrying, poured water into the cap and handed it to me. I drained the cup, then leaned heavily against him as I struggled to my feet.
“Hmm,” he said, looking up at the dune we would need to climb. “Maybe the dunes weren’t the best idea.”
“I can do it,” I said.
He helped me take off my sneakers. He carried them along with the thermos and the carton of eggs, and with one arm around me, led me up the dunes. I lost track of how many times we had to stop so I could catch my breath. I felt as though I was on another planet with nothing but sand on all sides of me, no landmarks to let me know exactly where I was. Finally we crested the dune and I saw the ocean. Home.
“Hold on for a minute,” Hunter said. “I see my flashlight.”
I stood still, not completely sure of my balance yet as Hunter left my side to pick up the flashlight.
“I can carry the eggs,” I said as he neared me again, laden down with my sneakers, the thermos and flashlight, and a carton of eggs. I smiled as he handed me the eggs. They seemed so ludicrous now, eggs from 2001. “Can we have these for breakfast?” I joked.
Hunter stopped walking, and when I looked at him, his eyes glistened in the early morning light. “You don’t know how scared I’ve been,” he said. “How scared we’ve been. I knew you got there. Of course I knew that, since we met there, as you now know. But after that, I didn’t know what happened to you.”
I wrapped my arms around him. At that moment, I felt like the strong one. The one who knew exactly what needed to happen next. “I’m all right,” I assured him. “And Joanna is all right. You saved her life, Hunter. You saved both of us. Now please, just get me back to her.”
* * *
The sun was a yellow streak in the pink horizon as we pulled into our driveway. Patti ran from the cottage and swept me into her arms, crushing me to her. I quickly told her why Joanna wasn’t with me and she pulled away, holding me at arm’s length to study my face.
“I don’t care about the baby!” she said. “I just wanted you back.”
Her words stung me. “I care,” I said, but she didn’t seem to hear me. She grabbed my free hand and walked with me into the house.
“What are you wearing?” she asked, pointing to the sling when we’d reached the porch. “And why are you carrying eggs?”
“The sling’s for carrying a baby,” I explained. “A lot of women—and some men—use them in 2001.” I told her about the eggs. She didn’t smile. There was something new in Patti, I thought. She was prickly. Angry. At me? At Hunter? I didn’t know.
John Paul was in his playpen and Hunter lifted him out and plunked him in the high chair.
“Hi, sweet baby boy,” I said, leaning over to cover his face with kisses. Or at least to attempt to cover his face with kisses. He pulled away from me as if I were a stranger, and I felt a twinge of sadness. I’d been gone a good chunk of his little life. I took off my backpack and pulled out the small stuffed I LOVE NEW YORK teddy bear. He reached for it and I finally got a smile from him.
Patti made bacon, eggs, and grits for breakfast, using eggs she had in the refrigerator. “No way I’m using those eggs.” She took the 2001 carton from where I’d left it on the table and threw it in the trash. She kept stopping to touch me as she cooked. She’d squeeze my shoulder. Lean over to kiss the top of my head. It was as though she wanted to be sure I was truly there.
I struggled to eat, my fork trembling in my hand. I was shaky with anxiety, hyper focused on my need to get back to Joanna. I ate one egg. Half a strip of bacon. A forkful of grits. Patti sat across from me at the table, filling me in on John Paul’s milestones: he was walking all over the place now and he knew eight words as well as the phrase “I love you.” He adored strawberries and she couldn’t keep enough of them in the house over the summer. I’d never heard her prattle before but she was prattling now, acting as though I’d been on a trip to the next state rather than thirty-one years in the future. Hunter was quiet, as if letting her get it all out.
She looked down at her plate, cheeks crimson. “I don’t want you to go back,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.”
Hunter finally spoke up. “You could have contacted my mother to get a later portal so you could stay with Joanna,” he said. “Did you think of that?”
I nodded. “She was a huge help, but I lost touch with her,” I said. “By the time I realized I needed a new portal, it was too late. I’d already told her I was all set and then she moved and must have changed her phone number. She thought I had everything ready to go.”
“Ah, so that’s what happened,” he said, setting his fork on his clean plate. “We moved to Alexandria, Virginia, outside Washington in September that year. I think she had some government connection there, though I never knew much about it. Sometimes things got too close for her and she’d shut everything down. Change her number. Leave town. She liked to make herself hard to find. Where did you go when you left our house in Princeton?”
“First to a hotel that the fetal-surgery study helped pay for,” I said. “Then your mother moved me into a condo owned by a friend who was time-traveling.” I glanced at Patti. She was feeding John Paul applesauce now, her lips tightly pressed together. “The guy must be a multimillionaire because his condo is beautiful. I left my things there. My iBook and phone and some clothes.”
Hunter grinned. “I remember our iBook lessons,” he said. “You were a quick study.”
“And you were a patient teacher,” I said.
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Patti asked.
“Hunter was there, Patti,” I said. “He was only fifteen, but—”
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