by Shawn Inmon
“More than anything, I want to thank you for helping make our dream come true. Cheers!”
Later that night, when the grills had all been cleaned, the chairs and tables were all folded and put away, and the last of the leftovers had been handed out, Joe, Scott, and Sam sat in the back yard and soaked in the ambience of the setting sun and the bug zapper doing its business.
“You gonna stay a few days?” Joe asked Scott.
“I think I need to. I’ve got a little healing up to do this time.”
“Your place is always ready for you.”
He turned and looked at Sam, who was nestled comfortably beside him. He lowered his voice. “And how ‘bout you? You gonna stay a few days?”
Sam looked at him levelly. “Is that an offer?”
“It is.”
“Let me go get my toothbrush. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
THE Rodrigo Hart Oasis for Veterans was a resounding success. There were occasional issues, of course. On rare occasions, there was a fistfight. Night terrors were not uncommon. There was a brotherhood there, though. Every man who stayed there could relate to exactly what the others were feeling. There was never any need to say, “You know what I mean?” It was an acknowledged fact.
Joe and Sam had hired Abigail Green as one of the counselors. She helped him find several other therapists, who rotated through so each of them had one day on and three days off, but there was someone at the Counseling Center every day. Abigail didn’t remember Joe, of course. She had known him in another lifetime. Still, he had only good feelings toward her. Although she had never accepted him as what he was—a man returned from the future—she had set his feet on the path that had led him to this very happy place.
The whole project was so successful that a number of other donors and communities banded together to create their own version of the Oasis. As they did, more starfish were saved and fewer were left on the beach to expire.
There was some worry that the Oasis would fill up with men who moved in and never wanted to move out. Joe and Sam left that up to each individual though, and soon found that they treated the place like what its name implied, an oasis. They would come for a few days, or weeks, or maybe months, but then they would bundle up and catch a bus somewhere else. They always wanted to make room for the next vet who needed a respite from the world.
Although she had been stiff with arthritis for quite some time, Jenny lived with Joe and Sam for another three years. He hadn’t known what age she was when he got her, so he had no idea how old she was now. The red fur on her face had turned gray and she walked with a stiff-legged gait. Every night, they walked her around their neighborhood. Joe and Sam walked behind her, holding hands and listening to her nails click on the sidewalk and watching her magnificent tail cleaning the air as she went.
One night, Joe and Sam stepped off the porch then realized that Jenny was not in front of them. They turned back and saw Jenny standing on the porch, staring longingly at them. She hadn’t moved, but was panting heavily.
“You okay, girl?” Joe asked, but his heart sank. He knew she wasn’t. She never missed an opportunity to walk with them.
They called their neighbor who was a veterinarian and asked if he would make a house call. He did, but by the time he arrived, Jenny was gone. She died peacefully, with Joe stroking her hair and telling her how she was loved. He wrapped her in the comforter from their bed and buried her in the back yard.
Joe said he could never have another dog, and he didn’t, for quite some time. Eventually, of course, he got enough distance from the pain of loss and brought another dog—a chubby little puppy that looked like a barrel with legs—from Debbie’s Shelter into their house, their lives, and their heart. For Christmas, Sam bought Joe a painting she’d had made of Jenny and it sat over his desk forevermore.
When Sam moved in, it was possible the hierarchy in the house might change, but in the end, she slipped comfortably into a new spot, right underneath Allen. He remained king of all he surveyed. Joe, meanwhile, took care of both of them.
The few days that Joe had initially offered Sam, soon became permanent.
Joe wrestled with the idea of whether or not to tell Sam his true life’s story. In the end, he saw bad possibilities down that road, but so few good.
What if I tell her and she looks at me differently? How can I expect her to believe me when I have no real proof. It would be even worse if she said she believed me, but couldn’t. I’m not sure I could believe her if she told me something like that, so how can I expect her to do it?
Joe left that as the only secret between them. When he felt the need to talk to someone about his unusual life, he waited until Scott came through town.
Joe and Sam had already grown to love and respect each other before that first date, so it was a logical step for Joe to ask Sam to marry him before too long. They got married at the duck pond in the Oasis, surrounded by people they loved.
A beautiful baby girl was born to them a little less than a year later. They named her Chandra. She was a perfect baby.
Joe, Sam, and Chandra were a happy family.
The days, weeks, months, and years passed, but did not slip away from them.
They savored every one.
Author’s Note
When I wrote that final line of The Changing Lives of Joe Hart, I thought I was leaving Middle Falls, Oregon—at least for a while. I love this universe and these stories so much, I knew it was likely I would return to it someday, but I thought I had other stories to tell first.
Then, as I sat down to plot out one of those “other” stories, one of the characters from Joe’s life kept nagging at me, wanting me to tell his story, as well. That character was Scott McKenzie, and so, I immediately began writing The Vigilante Life of Scott McKenzie. If you’d like to know what happens with Scott, you can find that book here.
I’ve momentarily given up on abandoning the Middle Falls Universe. There are too many characters with stories left to tell there, I suppose. So, after Scott McKenzie’s book, I am already planning the eighth book in the series, which has the working title of The Reset Life of Cassandra David. That title might be subject to change, but I anticipate that book will be out in December, 2018.
After that, I will likely write a ninth book in the series before I take a break from it. Something about the way my mind works sees the world in sets of threes, and three sets of threes is even better.
I want to sincerely thank you for reading this far in the Middle Falls Time Travel Series. Thank you for being part of the trials and redemption of all these characters. For those who haven’t received their redemption yet, I come back to the oft-quoted phrase throughout the series: It will be all right in the end. If it’s not all right, it’s not the end.
Shawn Inmon
Seaview, WA
August, 2018