As they got closer, Ernie Pike noticed them and asked in a friendly manner, "Can I help you?"
Surprised that the man didn't seem to recognize him, Jason asked, "Is Bob Jameston around?"
"Don't b'lieve I know anybody by that name," the man replied.
Jason tried to mask his confusion as he said, "I thought—I mean, I heard he owned this place."
Ernie Pike pulled off his greasy cap and scratched his greasy brown hair with fingers that were already greasy as he said, "No. I own this place. Have for over three years now. Bought it off the Pace boys. Is there any way I could help you, though?"
Jason thought for a moment, then with a mental shrug, said, "To tell the truth, I was hoping to find some work. The, um, we ran out of bus fair at Rule and I was hoping I could raise some money to get us a little further down the road. We're tapped out."
Ernie replaced the greasy cap and said, "I could use a mechanic for a few days. Mine's gone to San Antone to be with his mother and me, I can't do much more than change the oil or put in gas. If you know anything about cars, I could take you on for a few days. Maybe longer if you prove up good."
Masking his surprise, Jason said, "That'd be a great help. My name's Jason Kerrigan and this is Bronwyn."
"Ernie Pike," the man returned, shaking their hands then giving them a rag to wipe the grease off with, showing an odd cognizance of his own filthy state. The rag wasn't a great improvement over what his hands had been like. "You folks got a place to stay?"
"Not yet," Bronwyn replied. "We, um, hadn't really planned on staying here. Circumstances, you know?"
Ernie nodded as he scratched his head again, this time straight through the cap, and said, "I heard the Kings, over to Avenue F, were thinking of renting out their garage apartment. I could spot you a ten and you could see. If not, there's the Motor Lodge, but that'd run you three dollars a night." Looking at Bronwyn, he offered, "If you're looking for work, too, ma'am, I heard Mrs. Klines was looking to take someone on to work evenings over at the laundry while Jenny Simms is down to Abilene lookin' after her aunt."
"Thank you," Bronwyn nodded. She whispered to Jason, "Laundry? You're the one with experience along that line."
"Thanks a lot."
Ernie gave them quizzical looks, then shrugged and offered, "I can give you directions and you can go check on the room and the job right now while I put this feller to work, if you like."
"Yes, please."
He led them inside and drew out the directions on the back of a receipt. As he handed it to Bronwyn, Jason said, "I'll just walk her out, if you don't mind."
"Go right ahead," Ernie nodded with a wink, then began to roll a rack of filters outside.
At the edge of the driveway, where they were as out of earshot as they could reasonably be without drawing suspicion, Jason told her, "This is strange. Ernie Pike was the best mechanic in town. He could fix anything just by the sound the motor was making. I once heard him tell someone how to fix an alternator over the phone."
"And now he says he can't fix anything. And he didn't look like he'd ever seen you before. How well did you know him?"
"Not well, but I knew him. This isn't a big town, you know. I know he ought to recognize me—or at least my name. Everybody in town used to come to the football games and I know I saw Ernie there a time or two. Something screwy is going on around here. Well, you go check on that job and that place to stay. Give me a call or something when you find out anything."
"Right." With a look over his shoulder to, hopefully, make Jason think she was just playing her part, she kissed him on the cheek and then pulled away and said, "I'll see you later."
She walked down the road toward the town square, wondering why Ernie had bothered to draw her a map. She still held onto the map, though, if for no other reason than to give her hand something to do.
She decided she liked Haskell and she wasn't sure why. She had grown up in Tyler, one of the prettiest towns in Texas, with lots of trees and more roses than any other city in the world.
Haskell was dry and brown. The houses were simple frame buildings with cedar shingle roofs and yellowish grass growing sparsely in the yards. It wasn't the sort of town one dreamed about, but she liked it. Maybe it was because she was there with Jason. Maybe it was because of the sky that was so blue and so clear it looked like a dyed cotton sheet hanging just ten feet over one's head. There was also a breeze blowing that occasionally gusted up and reminded her that one of her first purchases had better be a slip if she were to stay out here on the plains.
Downtown Haskell was a square of brick buildings surrounding a three-story white rock courthouse. There were a few people milling around the town in the early morning, but not many, yet. Most of the activity seemed to be geared toward the diner, but there were a few people—shop owners, she presumed—who were going into the other places of business.
It was a town square as could be found in a thousand other towns, she thought. An auto parts store, a couple diners, a movie theater, a big corner bank, a drug store and some assorted dry-goods stores. On the green that surrounded the court house, there were a few pecan trees, an oak, some bushes, and a handful of benches. The dry-cleaner's shop was on the north side of the square next to the drug store and looked to already be open for business.
It was completely typical, but somehow—walking into that square—Bronwyn found herself immediately charmed. It was nothing she could put a finger on, but she was instantly glad she was there.
She walked over to the laundry and went inside. After a customer left, the lady behind the counter looked up and asked, "Can I help you, Miss?" She was a heavy-set woman with iron gray hair and tough as leather skin.
"I hope so," Bronwyn said with her most winning smile. "My—husband just got a job working for Ernie Pike and Mister Pike said you might be looking for help, too. We're new to town and I don't know anyone but I'm a real good worker and I can—"
"You ever worked in a laundry?"
"No. But I'm a good learner."
"Not much to learn, but it's hard work." She looked Bronwyn over as one might survey a horse, then said, "You look fit enough—and that's what I need. It ain't a glamorous job. It's just backbreaking. It don't seem like it at first but putting a big load of clothes into the washer and then the dryer can sure wear on a person after a while. Plus there's some head work to it. You've got to make sure everything's tagged, check for missing buttons, check the pockets and like that."
"Well, ma'am, if you'll give me the job I'll do good work for you."
"How soon can you start?"
"Right now," Bronwyn told her excitedly—then quickly added, "But I do need to go check on a place to stay that Mister Pike told me about."
"Tell you what:" Mrs. Klines said, "Why don't I give you a quick run-through of the business now, then you can go check into that room and come back here for work first thing in the morning? I'm usually in here by six."
"Sounds good."
As Mrs. Klines took care of her next customer, it occurred to her that this new employee of hers wouldn't be around very long. She wasn't sure why she thought it—it certainly wasn't the clothes—but she got the feeling this young woman (whose name she didn't even know) was a smart young woman who would be better suited to just about any job other than laundry. Still, she could use the help until Jenny returned—which was probably about how long this new help would last, anyway.
"Yonder comes your wife," Ernie Pike said as he watched Jason give a Dodge truck a tune-up. "Why don't you go get some lunch with her. You can finish this when you get back. Then, maybe I'll go get me some lunch."
"All right," Jason nodded. He met Bronwyn outside with the requisite peck on the cheek and said, "Let me go wash my hands." When he was out of the restroom and they were walking down the street toward the diner, he asked, "Where have you been? I was beginning to worry."
"Sorry about that, but Mrs. Klines could talk the ears off a corn stalk." She put her hands to her head an
d said, "Now I'm starting to talk like her. Plus, I went by the library for a little while. The librarian looked at me rather strange so I'm wondering if maybe I'm wearing her dress. Anyway, I wanted to do some reading."
"So what have you found out?"
"First, I got the job with Mrs. Klines—or Kline—I'm still not clear on what her name really is. I think I've even heard her say it both ways. And I found the Kings. They'll rent us out that garage apartment for six dollars a week if you do the lawn and the hedges. I hope Ernie spotted you that ten because I told them we'd pay five dollars tonight."
"Sounds like we're set."
As they neared the diner, Bronwyn said, "Let's get it to go because this world is really strange and I don't want anyone to hear us talking about it."
"The great thing about Mrs. Klines is that I can ask all the questions I want and it never occurs to her that I must be a complete moron for not knowing this stuff." Bronwyn was nibbling at her food but not really eating like one would expect of someone who hadn't had a decent meal since some emergency rations the night before.
"Not hungry?" Jason asked.
"No. Feeling a little nauseous, really. Probably just nerves about what all's going on." She shrugged and said, "Anyway, let me tell you what I found out. We're in 1947, all right, and this is Haskell, but there is no Republic of Texas."
"What?"
"Just let me tell you all I found out, then you can ask questions. There hasn't been a Republic of Texas for over a century. Texas joined up with something called the United States of America."
"I don't believe—"
"Will you be quiet? Anyway, we're just one state out of forty-eight. The country goes all the way from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean. There was a world war—two of them, actually—but the United States and England whipped Germany on the east and the United States whipped Japan pretty much all by themselves on the west side. Remember Einstein?"
"Yes."
"Well, he helped the United States develop a nuclear bomb and they dropped two of them on Japan to end the war. Wiped out two whole cities and several thousand people. That was two years ago. World's been at peace since then." She put a hand on his and said, "The whole world was rewritten while we were gone, Jason. Some things are the same but some aren't even close.
"Remember Abraham Lincoln? Served four terms as President of Texas after Sam Houston, right? Wrong. Here he was President of the United States but he was assassinated. It's strange though. He freed the slaves just like we remember. Seems like he was almost the same guy. But somebody killed him here."
Jason interrupted, "I remember reading this fiction story when I was little about a guy that went back in time and changed something. Can't remember what, but when he came forward in time everything had changed because of his actions. Seems like he helped some English lord in a war but when he came forward in time that lord's son had become a despot and had set up this evil kingdom that had grown and grown until it took over the world and everything he knew was wrong. Maybe that happened here."
"But we went to the future Jason," she said a little too loudly, then looked around to make sure no one was listening. No one was. More quietly, "You can't change the past by doing something in the future."
"Yeah, but somehow we came back to a world that's changed and I'd like to know if, somehow, it's our fault."
"I can't believe it is, but how do we find out for sure?"
"Well, while we try to figure out if all this is for real—and it sure seems like it—maybe we can investigate and see if we can find out when history changed. Maybe we can figure out if some old battle was altered or something." He looked up and said, "Maybe after we disappeared with Eddie they built another one and someone else went backwards."
"What are you saying? If we find out that it's because John Smith died two hundred years ago we use Eddie to go back in time and save him?"
"Not really. Who's to say that if we went back and changed that event back to the way it was things would still come out the same? People have freedom of choice and even if we changed one thing, somebody somewhere might do something different from before and things would be changed again. I'm just saying that—well—I guess I want to find out for myself more out of curiosity than anything." He looked at his watch, "I guess I better get back to the fillin' station."
As they were walking away from the park, Bronwyn said, "If we're going to be telling people we're married, we better come up with a story of some kind. How we came to be here and everything. We've got that bus to Rule story but we're going to need more than that. Like where we're from and everything. Oh, and by the way, Mrs. Kline never heard of you."
"Really?"
"Really. I said I thought you were raised around here or at Paint Creek and she's never heard of you. You are from around here, aren't you?"
"I promise."
"So what's our story?"
"Well, you can be from Tyler because no one's going to know whether that's true or not—providing there is a Tyler?"
"I looked on a map. It's there. In fact, it seemed like almost all the towns were the same. I'd say at least ninety percent. Anyway, go ahead."
"I’ll tell everybody I was born in Paint Creek and grew up in, um, Big Spring. How long ago do you think we met?"
"Let's say a year ago. We'll tell everybody you were in the army and stationed near Tyler. I was working at the PX and we met and got married."
"So what were we doing out west?"
"Maybe you got transferred out there and when your hitch was up we decided to go back east but didn't have enough money to get there." After a bit she lamented, "We're going to sound like such morons."
"It's better that way."
"Huh?"
"Nobody pays much attention to morons. Just happy to have them get out of the way."
"I never thought of it that way but I bet you're right."
"I wonder what happened to some people?" he suddenly said.
"Hmm?"
"Like Bob Jameston. Was he never born, or what? Old Mrs. Pritchart seems to have kept her gardening shoes in the same place she always did, but Bob Jameston never even lived here? Me either, for that matter. How come some people are here and others aren't? And how come Ernie Pike is here and looks just the same but doesn't know the first thing about cars?"
"The whole thing is amazingly strange. As I glanced over the history books at the library, some things were the same and others were different. With just a cursory glance I couldn't see any rhyme or reason for the changes."
She shrugged and they walked on to the gas station. As they arrived, Ernie told them, "I'm going to go grab a bite to eat over at the Tip-Top. I should be back in about an hour."
"Take your time," Jason told him.
Bronwyn asked, "Mister Pike, do you mind if I hang around here this afternoon? I, um, don't really have any where else to go until I help Mrs. Klines with the afternoon shift later."
"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "And call me Ernie, ya hear? Having you around'd brighten this place up considerable. Might help our business. In fact, maybe I should hire you and let him go work in the laundry."
"That's what I said," Bronwyn laughed.
He smiled at them both, gave Bronwyn a wink, and ran a greasy hand through his greasy hair as he left, replacing his cap.
"What I want to know," Kerrigan mused, "Is how he can get so dirty when, as far as I've seen, he doesn't do anything other than pump gas. Oh well, I better finish this tune-up."
Chapter Thirteen
Bronwyn watched absently as he finished with the motor of the Dodge truck. She realized she liked watching him work. It was more than just the fact that she liked watching him in general (a fact she would have been loath to admit), but that he did his work very intelligently. She tried to think of a way to compliment him that wouldn't sound like a little girl idolizing a movie star but couldn't, so she kept quiet.
As for Jason, he had been trying to think of something to say to make conve
rsation, but couldn't. He had a whole new world—one of which he knew almost nothing and she at least new something—but he just couldn't see a good way to discuss it. So he worked and fretted about it and got nowhere. Deep down, though, he liked having her watch him work. He wouldn't have admitted that it stroked his ego, but it did.
Finally, a good half hour after Ernie had departed, Jason was finishing the tune-up. He looked nervously at Bronwyn and said, "I forgot to tell you earlier but, um, you look very nice in that dress." He wanted to add that he loved the look of the sun on her read hair and the shape of the calves he could see below the hem of her dress and . . . a dozen other things he doubted he would ever have the words—or the nerve—to say.
Bronwyn blushed several shades of red and finally managed to say, "Thank you. It's just something I threw on," she tried to laugh but it came out sounding, to her ears, goofy.
Jason was just about to work up his nerve to say something else when the bell rang, signifying that someone was just pulling up at the pump. He grabbed the least greasy rag he could find and wiped his hands as he walked out to the car and asked, "Fill 'er up?"
A big, heavy-set man about Jason's age got out of the car—something called a Packard—and said, "Please. I gotta make a phone call, so she'll pay ya if I ain't done before you are." He jerked a thumb toward the car and Kerrigan nodded. "New around here?"
"Yeah. Just came in today."
The man extended a very big hand and said, "Lanny Stevens. Pleased to meet you, and, um, welcome to town."
"Jason Kerrigan. Thanks."
After filling the tank, Jason went to the window of the Packard and said, "That'll be three dollars, ma'am."
She leaned over and handed him three crumpled one dollar bills and said, "Here you go."
As he reached in to take it he took his first look at her face and almost fell to the pavement. With weak knees and weaker voice, he asked, "Susan?"
She quickly looked around and made sure that Lanny was still on the phone. When she was assured that he was, she said, "Please don't tell him." At Jason's confused look, she showed him her left hand and said, "I'm married now. We're trying for a baby."
The Legend of Garison Fitch (Book 3): Lost Time Page 20