The Legend of Garison Fitch (Book 3): Lost Time

by White, Samuel Ben

  "Do you really think this is possible? That there could be others of us out there?"

  "I don't know why not." He tried to and a laugh as he smiled, "Mainly because I don't know why to begin with. I wonder if Gustav and Tony are out there? Maybe Tony's a priest instead of a scientist. Maybe neither one of them immigrated. I wonder if Carter and Luis and Avery are around somewhere? After all, Whitey's around in this world."

  "Jason, here's a weird thought. Let's just hypothesize for a moment. What if what we were saying one day was right? What if the change in the past was caused by someone who went backwards in, say, 1950. Between 1947 and 1950, what if Gustav and Tony built other Eddies? What if they went forward, too? What if they come back?"

  "I don't follow you."

  She chewed her lip for a moment, trying to put her thoughts into words, before saying, "What if someone left Kirby in January of 1948 and jumped to the future like we did? And what if they did the same thing we did to get back? That means someone could show up around here in about seven months that remembers the same world history we do. Do we help them? Do we ignore them?"

  He shrugged, "My first question is: how are we going to know? It's not like we can tell by looking at someone if they're from our world or this one."

  It was her turn to shrug as she said, "Who knows? One of these days we might see someone selling a Comal airplane at an auction. Or we might hear about someone going to the looney bin because they claim to be from another world—one like this one but with a Republic of Texas. I wish we had some way to put the word out so that, maybe, they could contact us if they ever got to this world."

  He suddenly dropped his wrench with a loud klang! and caught it as it bounced off the engine block. Smiling, he asked, "How well do you know history? Our history. The way the world used to be."

  "Real well. I had a history minor because I figured that once the war was over it'd be easier for a woman to get a job as a history teacher than as a physics teacher. That and I kind of like history. Why?"

  "I was just thinking. What if you write a book about the way things used to be and we get it published? You write it as a book of fiction and get it published—"

  She nodded excitedly, "And if there is anyone out there from our world maybe they'll read it and they'll know it's not just a made up story and maybe they'll contact us! Is that what you're saying?"

  "Exactly. Think you could do that?"

  "I know I could. Why, if it sold I could do a whole series of books. Maybe one on the life of Lincoln—I did a big paper on him my senior year. You know, Jason, if we could ever figure out about when the change happened, maybe I could write a story about that."

  "It's neat to see you excited."

  She reached into her pocket and, to Jason's surprise, pulled out her money instead of her grandfather's badge. "What's that for?" he asked.

  "I'm going to go over to Ben Franklin's and get some paper and pencils and stuff right now." She kissed him quickly and turned to leave. "Maybe I'll ask around, too, and see if I can find a second-hand typewriter. If we could get to a town that had a military base, I bet I could find one there among the war surplus stuff." She kissed him again and said, "I'll be back in a little bit."

  He called out to her as she left, "Don't forget to keep us some eating money!"

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Nothing, absolutely nothing," the doctor said in disbelief. Clidens looked at Bronwyn and said, "According to every test the folks in Abilene could run, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

  "Really?" Bronwyn asked in equal disbelief. "Then why do I keep throwing up all the time?"

  Dr. Clidens ran his hand over his head as if he had hair and let out a big sigh. He finally looked Bronwyn in the eye and said, "Well, if I had never seen you before and all I had to go on was today's urine sample, I'd say it was because you're pregnant."

  "I'm—?" Bronwyn asked, her hand going to her mouth in excitement.

  Dr. Clidens nodded, then said, "The only problem is, six weeks ago when you came in here you weren't pregnant. Now you are."

  Just barely unable to contain her excitement, Bronwyn asked, "So where's the problem?"

  "You throw up on a regular basis."

  "Not as much any more. Like I said, I haven't thrown up in over a week—and it was at least a week before that."

  "You're too early in the pregnancy to be experiencing morning sickness, then. Any vomiting you've done is most likely caused by . . . whatever it is that's been causing you to throw up."

  Her eyes got big and she quickly asked, "Do you mean that whatever I have could hurt the baby?"

  Doctor Clidens shook his head, then shrugged, then finally said, "There's no way I can say for sure since I don't have any idea why you were throwing up in the first place. And since you say it's going away, then maybe that means whatever it was—if it ever was anything—is gone, too."

  "What do you mean 'if', Doc? I know what I was going through."

  "Now, don't take this the wrong way, Mrs. Kerrigan, but is there anything in your life that could have been causing . . . stress?"

  Somewhat testily, Bronwyn demanded, "Are you saying my barfing up every other meal was psychosomatic?"

  "Not exactly," he said in his most conciliatory tone. "But a psychosomatic illness is not as bad as it is sometimes made out to be. What goes on in our minds affects our bodies. The person who has a positive outlook that gets them through an illness that might kill someone else, you might say they have psychosomatic health. When Jesus spoke about not worrying, he was realizing something it would take doctors a long time to learn: what goes on up here,” he tapped his forehead, “Has a lot to do with what goes on in the rest of our body.

  “You were new to town—and out of work, as was your husband—and maybe the stress of that change led to nerves, which led to you throwing up frequently. Now that you've become used to your surroundings, your nerves have calmed down, so you're not throwing up as often."

  When she still seemed to be dubious, he said, "Mrs. Kerrigan, I don't want you to panic. You are one of the most healthy women I have ever seen and," he held up the reports from that day's analyses and those that had come from Abilene and said, "I foresee no problems in the future with either you or your baby. All I'm trying to do is offer a possible explanation for your vomiting." He added a smile and said, "Go back to your excitement, Mrs. Kerrigan. You're going to have a baby."

  "You're right," she nodded, wiping a slight tear from her eyes. "So, I guess I should ask you what I do now."

  He smiled, sighing inwardly himself, "I want you to do two things right away. First, I want you to walk over to the gas station and tell your husband the good news. Second, I want you to go over to the drug store and get these vitamins I am writing out for you. And—I guess this is a third thing—I want you to try and find another job."

  "What?" Bronwyn asked, confused.

  "I have never been a big proponent of a pregnant woman working around chemicals like those used in a laundry—though the Good Lord knows Mrs. Klines certainly has had her share of healthy offspring. Don't worry, I have no scientific data to back up my bias. But I do know that you lift large loads there at the laundry. I think you would be better off not doing that—especially as you get further along in your pregnancy. Now, mind you, this third item is a suggestion, not a command. As I said, Mrs. Klines is living proof that a woman can do that work and have healthy children. She, on the other hand, grew up in that business herself and was, perhaps, made for it."

  One hand on her abdomen, trying to feel the baby even though she knew it was far too early, she replied, "I understand. Jenny's back in town, anyway, so this might give me just the excuse I need."

  As she stood up, he rose also and gave her a slip of paper detailing which vitamins she should purchase. He smiled and said, "Congratulations. And my best to your husband, as well."

  "Thank you."

  "Now, like I said, I don't think anything is wrong with you. But with any pre
gnancy there should be regular visits and a conscientious attention to everything your body tries to tell you. Not a manic obsession mind you, but attention. What I'd like to tell you now—warn you now, if you wish—is that I'd like to do regular blood workups. I don't anticipate any problems, but—"

  "Better safe than sorry," Bronwyn nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."

  She was a grown woman, a former fighter pilot with double-ace status and a masters degree in physics but she felt like skipping to the gas station. She was that excited.

  She suddenly hoped Jason would be. They had talked about having children some day, but she didn't know if he wanted one so soon. She knew she ought to temper her feelings in consideration of his, but she couldn't. She was just so excited. What would her friends back at A&M think about that? She laughed to herself.

  Jason was outside pumping gas into a mud-covered pickup truck and he waved happily at her when he saw her coming. She heard the pump "ding" as she got near and watched Jason take money from the man inside. The man waved to her as he drove off but she couldn't place him. She thought he might be one of the men from the church they attended, but she wasn’t sure.

  She looked at the gas station and wondered how much longer Jason could stand to work there. The pay was just above the poverty line and she knew he was getting bored with it. But it had served its purpose when they first moved to town and they were both appreciative.

  She had tried to just walk up normally, but he noticed the spring in her step and asked with a smile, "What's going on? Hear a funny joke down at the doctor's office?"

  "Not exactly," she returned, about to burst.

  "Then what?"

  She was going to hold it in, think of some perfect or cute way to say it, even thought about waiting until they were at lunch, but she suddenly exploded with, "I'm going to have a baby!"

  His reaction was instantaneous. He took her into his arms and swung her around while letting out a good ol' Texas yell that almost shattered her eardrums. As he set her down, he asked, "When?"

  "You know, I forgot to ask. I was so excited I didn't know what to say." She did some math in her head and said, "I guess around the first of April. Somewhere near then."

  "That is so spectacular!" He kissed her again and asked her questions, questions she couldn't answer and realized she'd need to go see the doctor to find the answers.

  "Hey, I've got some good news, too. Not as good as yours, but good." At her questioning glance, he said, "There was a guy in here this morning with the highway department. We got started talking and he said they're looking for people with some engineering experience—"

  "Even if you can't prove you have it?"

  "I mentioned that I might have trouble getting a hold of my college credits—I didn't mention I had graduated, just that I had gone. Anyway, he said if I were taking some college courses, I might could get a job with the highway department and work my way up while going to school."

  "Did he give you a phone number or any way to contact someone?"

  "Yeah." He tapped his shirt pocket, "Got it right here. I wanted to mention it to you first, before I called. And, Bronwyn?"

  "Yeah?"

  "If I get the job, it's probably going to mean leaving Haskell."

  The fact that he said it like it was some sort of apology almost made her laugh. She smiled and, as she kissed him, said, "Haskell's your hometown, not mine. I'll be happy just being with you—and the baby."

  He reached out and gently put a hand on her tummy. "Yeah, the baby." He looked up at her face and asked, "Will you be all right to move?"

  "I can do anything I want to do—up until the last three months or so. I'd just need to find a doctor wherever we are and set up regular appointments."

  "So let's go."

  "I can't believe I'm in Tyler," Bronwyn said as she waddled over to a seat in the diner she remembered from childhood. "Everything looks almost the same. I guess that's how you felt about Haskell."

  Kerrigan held her chair for her, but had learned not to push it in now that she was quite large. As he took a seat across the table from her, he smiled, "You are so beautiful."

  "If you say that enough, maybe I'll start believing it."

  The waitress, a matronly woman who Bronwyn knew from childhood came over and said, "Going to a party, Bronwyn?"

  It didn't even register on her that the waitress shouldn't know her name. The surprise Bronwyn replied with was based on the woman's comment. "Excuse me? I don't understand what you mean."

  Louise smiled and said, in her thick east Texas accent, "Why, I saw you just two days ago and you weren't expecting." She clucked her tongue with good-natured humor.

  It suddenly dawned on Bronwyn what was going on and she said, "I'm sorry. You must have me confused with someone else."

  The lady looked at her strangely, then as if getting a joke, tapped Bronwyn on the shoulder and said, "You know you almost had me going for a moment, there, Bronwyn. Are you in a play or something?"

  Bronwyn, casting a glance at an amazed Jason, replied, "My name's Bronwyn Kerrigan and this is my husband, Jason. You must have me confused with someone else."

  Louise took a step back and said, "You really aren't Bronwyn Hollander?"

  "No."

  Louise, reddening with embarrassment, said, "You could have told me you were her and I would have believe you—and I've known her all her life. Did you say your first name was Bronwyn?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Louise took their order, then started to turn away. Bronwyn caught her arm and asked, "This other Bronwyn. Does she live around here?" With her most innocent smile, she said, "I'd just love to know if I see the resemblance."

  Louise looked over at the calendar on the front counter and said, "This being Tuesday, she'll probably be meeting Cabot for lunch any minute now. He's the sheriff, you know."

  As Louise walked away, Bronwyn looked at Jason with something like disgust and said in disbelief, "Cabot Hollander? I married Cabot Hollander?"

  "You didn't, the other Bronwyn did. Besides, what's wrong with Cabot Hollander? If he's the sheriff and young enough to be married to someone your age, he must be a pretty well thought of young man."

  Choosing her words carefully, Bronwyn said slowly, "I couldn't stand him. For as long as I could remember he was always coming over to my house and wanting to be my boyfriend. I thought he was the biggest jerk. Always telling these stale jokes and making clumsy passes at me."

  "Maybe he just wanted to meet your grandfather." Jason suddenly asked, "You sure you want to meet—you?"

  "Wouldn't you want to? I mean, it's not like it's going to destroy the world or anything."

  "As far as we know," Jason mumbled as Louise brought out their order.

  "Oh my gosh," Bronwyn mumbled as she watched the front door open.

  "What?" Jason asked as he jerked his head around so quickly he heard his neck pop. As he saw who was coming through the door, he muttered, "Oh my gosh."

  In through the door had walked Bronwyn Hollander, who was indeed (as far as looks went) a carbon copy of Bronwyn Kerrigan—without the pregnancy. Her hair was even of the same length and cut the same. It occurred to Jason that they even walked the same—again pre-pregnancy.

  Mrs. Hollander said hello to Louise and a couple other patrons and then, maybe because she was being stared at, turned to look at Jason and Bronwyn. Her eyes grew to the size of quarters, just as Bronwyn Kerrigan's did when she saw something that surprised her, and her hand went to her mouth.

  Bronwyn Hollander came over and said, "I'm really sorry to be staring to impolitely, but I have a feeling you know why I am. Judging by the look on your face, anyway."

  Even though she knew the true story, and had even somewhat prepared herself for the fact that it might happen one day, Bronwyn Dalmouth Kerrigan was barely able to manage, "We look like identical twins."

  Jason, seeing that the world hadn't come to an end when the two met, gestured to the empty seat and said, "Would you like
to have a seat with us?"

  "Um, sure," Bronwyn Hollander said. As Jason shifted to the seat next to his wife, she took a seat across from her counterpart. "I'm sorry for staring but, my name's Bronwyn Hollander," she told her look-alike as she extended her hand.

  Bronwyn Kerrigan took it and returned, "My name's Bronwyn Kerrigan and I'm doing just as much staring as you are." She had half-expected a shock of some kind as they touched, but it hadn't happened. it just felt like any other hand. When Kerrigan took Bronwyn Hollander's hand, however, it struck him that it felt just like his Bronwyn's hand, though he wasn’t sure what that meant.

  "You're name's really Bronwyn?"

  The Kerrigan version nodded. To go ahead to what she expected the next question to be, she said, "My maiden name was Dalmouth."

  Bronwyn Hollander's hand shot to her mouth in an exact mimic of the move Jason had seen his own Bronwyn make when surprised. In the same voice, she asked, "Really? No, now you're pulling my leg."

  Bronwyn Kerrigan shook her head, then pretending to not know the answer as she asked, "That wasn't your maiden name, was it?" The answer was a mere nod.

  As he sat there, Jason couldn't be sure whether he found this whole scene to be interesting or so surreal as to make his skin crawl. Then, it dawned on him that this new Bronwyn, Bronwyn Hollander, was—as far as this world was concerned—the "real" Bronwyn. His Bronwyn, the one with their baby inside her, was actually . . . he wasn't sure what she was in relation to this world. He just knew that, as far as this world was concerned, his Bronwyn hadn't existed at this time the previous year.