The Dream Daughter: A Novel

by Diane Chamberlain

Patti set down John Paul’s spoon and put her hands over her ears. “Stop it,” she said. “Stop talking about this like it was a lark. Do you have any idea what this has been like for us?” she asked, lowering her hands to the table. “What it’s been like for me to discover the two of you had been plotting behind my back? Then my sister disappears into the ether? I can tell no one what’s going on. I have to make up where you are. Why you’re gone. It was like you were dead. I was afraid you were dead.”

  “I’m not though, honey,” I said. “And I have to go back. Just for a little—”

  “No!” She shouted so loudly that John Paul jumped, his small face scrunching up as he began to cry. Patti lifted him into her arms from the high chair. “You’re not going back,” she said.

  “She has to,” Hunter said firmly. “Her baby’s there. I’m driving to RTP as soon as we’re done with breakfast so I can work out some new portals for her.”

  “No,” Patti said again, quieter this time. I saw tears in her eyes. “I can’t go through this one more time.” She looked at me. “Don’t go, Carly,” she pleaded. “Please. Don’t do this again. It’s way too risky.”

  “I can’t leave my daughter there,” I said calmly. “I need to bring her home.”

  “You almost got stuck there!” she said.

  “I didn’t almost get stuck there,” I said. “I could have safely taken any of the portals if only Joanna had been well enough to come with me.” I got up from the table and reached into the backpack where I’d left it on the counter. “Let me show you pictures of your niece,” I said.

  “Frankly”—Patti set John Paul on the floor, then folded her arms across her chest—“I don’t care if she’s the most beautiful child on earth, you shouldn’t go back. Let someone in 2001 adopt her. She’ll be all right.”

  “Patti,” Hunter chided.

  Her words cut through me. I couldn’t simply pretend she hadn’t spoken them.

  “I get that this has been hard on you,” I said, sitting down again, the packets of pictures on the table in front of me. “But I can tell you right now, it’s been harder on me. First, I lost my husband. Then I’m told my baby will die. Then I stepped off the railing of the damn pier in the middle of the night!” My hands were knotted in fists on my lap. “Then I had experimental surgery with no idea if it would work or not. I lived all by myself in a strange city and a strange time with no family or friends around me, all the while watching my baby fight for her life. I’ve risked everything for her and if you think I’m leaving her in 2001 when I have the ability to go back and get her, you’re crazy!”

  Patti stood up without a word. She lifted John Paul into her arms again and walked across the kitchen and out the back door to the beach.

  I looked across the table at my brother-in-law.

  “Give her some time,” he said. “She’s been a mess ever since you left.” He nodded toward the envelopes on the table. “Show me the pictures.”

  I showed him the photographs, half of my mind out on the beach with Patti. “Joanna had a couple of serious setbacks,” I said. I skipped over the one picture I’d kept of Joanna wired and tubed and tethered. I hated looking at it. Instead I showed him what she looked like now … or at least, what she looked like in September 2001. Healthy. Strong. Smiling.

  “She looks a little like John Paul, don’t you think?” Hunter asked.

  I hadn’t seen the resemblance until he mentioned it, but now I did. Something about the shape of her nose. The roundness of her cheeks.

  Hunter tugged at the end of my hair. “We’ll get her home,” he promised.

  “Is there a chance I could go back tonight?” I asked. “I know it takes time to do the calculations and everything, but—”

  He shook his head. “Very doubtful,” he said. “The problem is not just finding a portal that will work from the end of the pier and put you somewhere safe in New York, but I need to figure out some new return portals as well.” He looked at his watch. “It’s nearly seven. If I leave right now, I’ll get to RTP before eleven and can start working on it.” He looked down at the top picture of Joanna again. I was holding her in it, her downy hair against my lips. Celeste had snapped it for me. “I’ll make a final portal for you as long as a year out,” he said, “just in case.”

  I groaned. “I hope I’ll be back much sooner than that, but it’s probably a good idea. I just wish I could leave tonight and arrive tomorrow morning. I don’t want them to think I deserted her. I left a note, but still. I don’t know what would happen if she’s ready to be discharged and I’m not there.”

  He nodded. “I’ll get you a portal as soon as possible,” he said, getting to his feet. He squeezed my shoulder. “Be kind to Patti,” he said. “This has been harder on her than either of us anticipated.”

  “I will,” I said. “I didn’t expect her to be so angry.”

  “We shouldn’t have left her out of everything.”

  I nodded, then watched him head toward the doorway to the living room, my future quite literally in his hands.

  “Hunter?” I said, and he turned to look at me. “I don’t care where I land,” I said. “I can get a train or a bus or something to New York City from nearly anyplace, so please just get me there as soon as you can.”

  He grinned at me. “You’ve gotten gutsy, woman,” he said.

  I thought of how I kicked away that guy on the Gapstow Bridge. How I leaped into the dark air from the top of the stone wall.

  “Yeah.” I smiled. “I guess I have.”

  32

  HUNTER

  My nearly four-hour drive to RTP sailed by, my mind wrapped up in Carly’s return. Thank God she was back, safe and sound. I wished she would stay put now, but I understood her need to get back to her daughter and I admired her for her courage in being ready to go as soon as I could make it possible. I only hoped her return would save my marriage as well as her daughter.

  Before I left Nags Head, I’d found Patti sitting on the chilly dune behind our house, watching John Paul as he played in the sand.

  “You okay?” I asked, squatting down beside her.

  She nodded without looking at me. Her cheeks were dry, but I could tell she’d been crying. I leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’m going to RTP,” I said. “If at all possible, I’ll be back tonight.”

  She turned to look at me, grabbing a handful of my shirt in her fist. “Be careful,” she said. “Be careful driving and plotting those … portals … and everything. Please?”

  “I love you,” I said. We kissed for the first time in a long time. “I’ll be careful,” I promised.

  Yes, I thought now as I drove, I’d be more careful this time than I was the last time. I could have kicked myself for not giving Carly a later portal. I should have thought it through better. She’d had a very sick baby. I should have guessed that baby might have needed to stay in the hospital longer. If only Carly’d been able to reach my mother, she could have gotten a later portal for herself … but then she wouldn’t have returned this morning and Patti would have walked out the door. Or rather, since the cottage was technically hers and Carly’s, she would have kicked me out the door. And I would have thought I deserved it.

  My mother. I felt envious that Carly had gotten to spend time with her. I wished I could. I wished I could slip back to 2001 and tell my mother how much I appreciated and admired her. All those things you don’t think of telling a parent until it’s too late. She was sixty-eight years old when she took that fifth trip, and I sometimes wondered if she chose to stay wherever she landed. If it was actually her choice. Although it hurt to think that she would have deserted me that way—even though I was well into adulthood by then—I hoped that was the case. I hoped she landed someplace that made her happy.

  * * *

  I reached RTP and my office a few minutes before eleven. Gloria wasn’t there, of course, since this wasn’t one of my usual work days, and I was glad to have the office to myself. I called Duke to reserve some time on the m
ainframe and was pleased to hear they had a cancellation for one thirty that afternoon. I would have to work fast to be ready for that time slot. I locked the office door behind me, turned on my radio, and set to work with my maps and the giant coffee-table book filled with photographs of New York City. I opened the book at random and there was a picture of the Sheep Meadow in Central Park. I knew about the Sheep Meadow only because it had been in the news the last few years. Demonstrations against the war were held there, along with love-ins and other massive gatherings. I would have to assume it was still there in 2001. The vastness of it would give me a lot of wiggle room in planning Carly’s landing.

  I worked out as much as I could on paper, then drove to my appointment with the mainframe at Duke. I plugged in times and longitudes and latitudes and nearly whooped out loud when I realized that Carly could step off tonight, a few minutes before midnight. We’d have to time her stepping off nearly to the second, but as long as we did, she’d land early in the morning in the Sheep Meadow.

  I was exhausted, though. I hadn’t slept much last night, worrying about whether or not Carly would show up this morning, and my adrenaline was pumping now in a way I knew could cause mistakes. So I went over and over my calculations until I was absolutely sure I was right about tonight’s portal. Then I spent another hour figuring out Carly’s returns, again from the Gapstow Bridge. I gave her five this time, making the final one for September 2002. If her baby wasn’t ready to leave the hospital by then, I thought, Carly would have bigger problems than I could solve.

  33

  CARLY

  I made two mugs of tea and carried them, along with Joanna’s photographs, out to the beach where Patti sat on our dunes and John Paul played nearby with a plastic pail and shovel. I handed Patti one of the mugs like a peace offering, then sat down next to her, the envelope of photographs on my thigh.

  “I’m sorry I was short with you,” I said.

  “I’m sorry I was a bitch,” she responded.

  I put my free arm around her. “There’s so much I want to tell you,” I said. “Share with you. I’m a mother now, too. I want to share that experience with you. Please let me.”

  She leaned her head against my shoulder. Let out a sigh. “Of course,” she said. “I just…” She raised her head and turned to look at me and I dropped my arm. “You vanished, and then I learned that my husband isn’t who I thought he was. That he’d been lying to me ever since I met him and that the two of you plotted your … your disappearance behind my back. It was all too much.” She looked down at the mug she held between two hands. “I’ve been so depressed and angry and … Then you finally show up this morning, and you’re alive and I’m so happy, but all you talk about is wanting to leave again. Leave me again. I’m just afraid something will go wrong and I’ll lose you forever.” Her voice broke. “I couldn’t take it, Carly.”

  “You don’t need to worry,” I said. “I’m going to get Joanna and come back the instant I can.” I put my arm around her again. “You know this is where I want to be, right?”

  She nodded, an attempt at a smile on her lips.

  I looked out toward the water. This was where I wanted to be. I’d missed our beach. The ocean. The salty air. The seabirds and the peace, absolute peace, of September on the Outer Banks. I imagined the day when John Paul and Joanna would play together out here. They’d grow up together, as close as siblings.

  “Let me see the pictures,” Patti said, setting her mug down on the sand.

  I reached into the envelope and handed the stack of photographs to her, watching as she studied each one. A tear slipped down her cheek. “She’s so beautiful,” she said finally.

  I looked down at the picture of my little girl. “Imagine how you’d feel if John Paul was there,” I said. “Could you stay here if you had the chance to bring him home?”

  “No,” she admitted quickly with a shake of her head. She handed the pictures back to me. “But Hunter should go with you,” she said. “Keep you safe.”

  “He can’t,” I said. “Did he tell you about the ‘fifth-trip rule’?”

  “Oh.” She nodded. “I forgot. If I didn’t have John Paul to take care of, I’d go with you. Though it would terrify me.” She glanced at me. “You’re braver than I am.”

  “It’s amazing what you’ll do for your child, isn’t it?” I said.

  She nodded, then looked out to sea. “So…” she said. “What was Hunter like as a teenager?”

  I laughed. “I wish you could have seen him at fifteen, Patti,” I said. “He wanted to be a music producer. He was just like you at that age, with his walls covered with music posters, although I didn’t know who any of the groups were. All those 2001 musicians. Except for the Beatles. He did have at least one Beatles poster. He said he’d just discovered their music.”

  “It’s so … crazy,” she said. “So hard for me to imagine you were actually in 2001.”

  “And guess what?” I said. “As the World Turns is still on in 2001!” I told her about the actors who still played their same old roles.

  “You’re kidding!” She laughed her boisterous Patti laugh and I was so happy to hear that sound.

  I told her about my iBook and the internet and email and my little cell phone, wishing I’d thought to bring it with me to show her. She shook her head in amazement, then suddenly sobered.

  “When does the war end?” she asked.

  I didn’t want to talk about the war. I shut my eyes, thinking of Joe. Thinking of his sacrifice. “Not for another few years.” I looked at my sister. “So many more are going to die before it’s over,” I said, suddenly choking up. “I can’t talk about it. It’s too … I just don’t like to think that Joe died for nothing.”

  “He died defending his country,” she said firmly, even though I knew she’d never believed in the war. She was just trying to comfort me.

  I nodded. I would leave it at that.

  “Anyway”—I cleared my throat—“people are more accepting of other people in 2001,” I said. “I mean, I know I was in the North, but blacks and whites get along a lot better, though there’s still problems. And now I know why Hunter always calls black people African Americans. That’s the correct term in 2001. And homosexuals are more open. There’s this show on TV called Will and Grace, and Will is gay and it’s no big deal. A lot of people, especially young people, have tattoos and it’s not considered strange at all.”

  “You’re kidding,” she said again.

  “And a lot of doctors are women. And some men are nurses.”

  “A male nurse?”

  “Yes, there’s one in the CICU. The nursery.” My mind slipped back to the CICU. At how alone I’d felt there at times. “I missed you so much,” I said. “It was hard, being by myself there. Having a baby alone. No family with me. I wanted to share it all with you and had no way to do that. I love you so much, sis.”

  “Joanna should sleep in the little fourth bedroom,” she said suddenly. “Hunter will have to move all his junk out of there, but that would be perfect, wouldn’t it? She’d be right next to your room.”

  I grinned, knowing Patti was finally seeing my daughter as a real person—a real person who would be living with us very soon. “That sounds great,” I said.

  “Should we buy a crib and paint the room before you go?” she asked.

  “I’m hoping I won’t have time to do any of that before I go back,” I said gently.

  “All right,” she said, smacking her hands lightly on her thighs, “then that’s what I’ll hope for, too. How about I paint the room while you’re gone? Or wallpaper it. Some cute girly wallpaper! Will you let me fix up the room for her? Or do you want to do it yourself when you get back?”

  “I’d love you to do it for me,” I said, touched by her change of heart. “Fix it up however you’d like.”

  We sat side by side, our arms touching, as we watched the waves begin to pool around John Paul’s chubby legs, and I had the strongest feeling that everything was
going to work out just fine for all of us.

  * * *

  Patti and I spent the day talking about the past and the future as we started to straighten the room that would be Joanna’s. We took long breaks, walking on the beach with John Paul in our arms or toddling along in front of us. We talked about Joe and how Joanna would always be a beautiful, living, breathing reminder of him. When we got back to the house, there was a message on the answering machine from Hunter. Patti pressed the replay button.

  “Hey, Patti,” he said. “Good news for Carly. Tell her I’ve got a portal from the pier to Central Park tonight around midnight that’ll put her in New York early tomorrow morning. I worked out several return portals for her plus one a year from now. I have a little more to do here and then I’ll head home. I should be there by ten. Love you.”

  My stomach contracted at the thought of stepping off the pier in a few hours. It was what I wanted, yet I couldn’t help that visceral reaction.

  “Thank God,” I said, as Patti switched off the machine. I would be back with my baby in the morning. I would have her in my arms again, and with any luck, she’d be healthy and ready to come home.

  * * *

  Patti, John Paul, and I took naps late that afternoon. I fell instantly into a dreamless sleep and awakened to the sound of voices downstairs. It took me a moment to get my bearings in the dark. September 1970. My bedroom. I looked at my chronometer. It was already ten o’clock.

  I jumped out of bed and ran barefoot down the stairs.

  Patti and Hunter were sitting in the living room where Hunter had a plateful of lasagna balanced on his knees. He grinned at me. “Just call me your personal travel agent,” he said around a mouthful of lasagna. “You’re all set.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” I said, sitting down on the sofa next to Patti.

  He nodded. “Your first return date is Friday, if she’s ready.”

  I leaned against the back of the cushion, shutting my eyes and letting out my breath. I felt as though I’d been holding it in since I walked out of the CICU the day before. “I’m pretty sure she’ll be ready,” I said.