“Makes sense to me.” Robbie looks at the photo again.
“We’ll do some thinking about it.” I say. “Do me a favor and don’t tell the others just yet. I don’t want to freak them out.”
“All right.”
A car door slams and I walk to the kitchen window that looks out over the backyard. A woman with short, dark hair, wearing a knee-length gray skirt and a white blouse, has just entered the backyard, followed closely by a young boy of about four. “Hey, who do you think this is?” I ask Robbie.
Robbie joins me at the window. “Oh my God, that’s my mom!” he blurts out. “Shit!” What do we do?”
“Dude, is that you?” I ask in amazement as I watch the little boy hopping up the sidewalk on one foot.
“Ahh. Yes it is. Damn it, we’re going to blow up the universe, and it’s going to be all my fault!” Robbie exclaims.
“Lets get upstairs,” I say. “We should warn the others and figure out what to do.”
The two of us run to the stairs and are bounding upward when I turn the corner and almost collide with Carson on his way down. Carson’s hair is disheveled and he has clearly just woken up. “Dude, go back up,” I say. “We have an incoming problem.”
“Is Francesca up?” Robbie asks.
“I haven’t seen her,” Carson replies.
We go to Francesca’s room and I rap quickly on the door. “You up, Fresca?” Hearing no response, I crack the door slightly and peek my head in. Francesca is asleep but stirs as the three of us enter.
“Hey. What’s up?” she inquires, as she rubs her eyes.
“Robbie’s mom is here,” I say.
“Oh wow, really?” Carson exclaims.
“Where’s Blake?” Francesca asks.
“We don’t know,” Robbie says. “But the younger me is here in the backyard.” A door slams shut somewhere in the house and Robbie quickly adds, “Or in the house.”
I can hear the sound of a woman’s voice downstairs and can make out the mellow tone of Mr. Cameron responding.
“Do you think she’s going to figure out we’re here?” Francesca asks. “What does this mean for us?”
“I’m not really sure,” I whisper. “Maybe she’s just popping in for a minute and she won’t even realize we’re here.”
“Orrr not,” Francesca draws out the word with resignation and I follow her eyes to the door, where the little boy is standing in the doorway, staring with an open mouth.
“Hey there, buddy.” Carson is the quickest to respond. The boy stands silently and takes us all in. He closes his mouth and stares at Carson, who has stepped from behind Robbie and is making his way closer. “What’s going on, little dude?” Carson continues.
The boy looks from Carson to Robbie, who is standing shell-shocked by the sight of the younger him, and finally his eyes fall on Francesca, still half buried in blankets. “Who are you?”
He seems to be addressing Francesca specifically, so she sits up and is quick to answer. “We’re friends of your grandpa’s. Are you Robbie? We’ve heard about you.”
“Why are you in my grandpa’s house?”
“We’re visiting him for a few days and he’s letting us stay here,” I say. “What are you up to?”
“We’re going on a cruise,” the young Robbie boasts, apparently done interrogating us.
“Oh wow, that sounds great,” Francesca says.
“Robert James! What are you doing?” A woman’s voice calls from downstairs. The young Robbie turns around and dashes out of the room.
We stay quiet but have no trouble making out Robbie’s voice as he reaches his mother. “There are people upstairs in the cat room!”
I look around the room and notice for the first time that there are a number of cat paintings, as well as a stone cat statue near the closet door. “Huh, I guess there are a lot of cats in here.”
We can’t make out the responses from Mr. Cameron or Robbie’s mother, but a few moments later, we hear a heavier footstep on the stairs and Mr. Cameron appears in the doorway. He smiles. “I guess the jig is up! Why don’t you all come downstairs and meet Mollie.”
“How are we going to explain this to her?” Robbie asks.
“Oh, I’ll think of something,” Mr. Cameron replies. He turns and leads the way out of the room.
“I’ll be right there,” Francesca closes the door behind us so she can get dressed.
“Yeah, I should probably put a shirt on,” Carson says, and disappears into the other guest room.
A few minutes later, the four of us and Mr. Cameron are assembled downstairs with Mollie Cameron appraising us from the other side of the dining room. Mollie’s eyes keep coming back to Robbie as she tries to contain her puzzlement.
“You remember my older brother Martin, Mollie?” Mr. Cameron begins. “I know he wasn’t around much, but you’ll remember the funeral of course.”
Mollie nods.
“It seems that Martin was not as much of a bachelor as we had believed. You remember that he spent a great deal of time overseas and in South America. It turns out he had a wife for a short time in Argentina. She was an American who was doing some long term volunteer work there. I had heard rumor of her somewhat but never met her in person, and Martin was never much for sharing details of his personal life with me. Well, long story short, it seems he had a son. This is Robbie.” Mr. Cameron gestures to Robbie and he steps forward and shakes Mollie’s hand. “Robbie and his mother have been living out west and he’s decided to look us up.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mollie says politely. Her face is unsure but she smiles at him. “And these are your friends?”
“Yes. They’re traveling with me,” Robbie replies.
Francesca, Carson and I introduce ourselves.
“Our friend Blake is with us also but he’s out at the moment,” I add.
“My name is Robbie, too!” The younger Robbie exclaims, apparently forgetting our earlier introductions.
“How long are you in town for?” Mollie inquires.
“We’re not really sure,” our Robbie answers. “Just sort of playing it by ear.”
The younger Robbie walks to Francesca and takes her hand. “Want to see the parrots?”
“Sure, thank you,” Francesca replies, smiling and allowing herself to be led into the next room to the birdcage.
“We’re going to be going in just a couple minutes, okay?” Mollie calls after him as they leave the room. “Well, I’m glad you’ll have some company for a little of the time we’ll be gone,” Mollie continues to Mr. Cameron.
“I’ll be fine. I’m sure you all need the time away,” Mr. Cameron replies. “You need a chance to have some fun and take your minds off of things. A cruise should be good for you and Rick.”
“I’ll have Rick stop by before we leave on Saturday,” Mollie says. “I’m sure he’ll want to see you before we go. He’ll probably want to meet Robbie, too.”
“That would be great. But if he can’t make it over, it’s not a problem. I know there is a lot to do before then, and it’s not like I won’t be here in a week when you get back.”
I catch Robbie’s eye and see the expression of fear in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything however. Mollie visits long enough for a cup of coffee before she and the four-year-old Robbie depart.
A half hour later, we’re up in Robbie and Carson’s room when Blake makes it back from what I suspect was another walk past Mallory’s house. We fill him in on the morning’s excitement. He sits on the floor with his back to the dresser.
“It was really weird,” Carson says. “Mini-Robbie was totally onto us.”
I sink myself into the cushioned armchair in the corner of the room and Francesca and Robbie perch on his bed. Carson has just finished commenting on how smoothly Mr. Cameron had come up with a story for all of us, when Robbie blurts out suddenly, “I just can’t let him die!”
We are all quiet for a moment before I respond. “You’re sure it was this vacation whe
n it happened?”
“Yeah. We came home early from the cruise. I don’t remember all the details. I don’t even remember what day it was. I wish I did. This is going to be horrible. I don’t know that I want to be here when it happens.”
“Isn’t it better to be here, than to be gone for it?” Francesca asks. “Maybe we can help him.”
“Then we’re going to be changing the future, aren’t we?” Carson asks.
“Unless it always happened this way,” I say.
“What do you mean?” Francesca asks.
I’m still trying to work out the possibilities in my mind, and am not sure I want to build Robbie’s hopes up, but I try to explain my thoughts. “Tell me this, Robbie. Do you have any memory of meeting all of us as a kid? Do you have a memory of what just happened this morning?”
“I don’t think so,” Robbie replies. He runs his hands over his shaved head and then back down his face. “I’m not really sure. It was a long time ago and I was really little. I don’t remember much from then.”
“What would that mean if he did remember it?” Francesca asks, sitting up straighter on the bed.
“I think there are a couple of possibilities. If he did remember it, it could mean that we haven’t actually changed anything. It could be that we were always here, and that this always happened in the past. Did any of you ever read that book The Time Traveler’s Wife?”
The three guys shake their heads. “I saw the movie,” Francesca says.
“I was in a book club with a girlfriend one time where we read it. The guy in that story has that problem. In that scenario, time is linear, and no matter what you do, you can’t change the past. It just always happened. They did it in Lost that way too, I think.”
“What’s the other scenario?” Blake asks.
“Well there’s the Back to the Future II scenario where you change something and now you’ve created a whole alternate time line.”
“The evil Biff takes over the world timeline,” Carson says.
“Exactly.”
“So if Robbie remembers this morning happening, it could mean that it always happened this way, and we haven’t actually changed anything?” Francesca says.
“Theoretically,” I reply.
“What if he remembers it now because it happened this morning, but it never happened that way the first time?” Carson asks. “What was that movie where the guy keeps changing things and then ends up with like forty years of memories in his brain even though he’s like twenty-five?”
“Are you talking about The Butterfly Effect?” I ask.
“Yeah. That movie had all kinds of craziness going on.”
“Didn’t that guy get a brain aneurism or something?” Francesca says. “I don’t want that happening to me.”
“I don’t know. Do any of you feel like you’ve acquired any new memories that you can’t explain since we’ve been here?” I ask.
“No. Not really,” Carson says. The others also shake their heads.
“Would we notice?” Robbie asks.
“I don’t know. Let’s work on the assumption that if we’re changing things, we’re probably not going to automatically get all the memories. That idea always seemed a little far-fetched to me anyway.” I pull my legs in below me and hold my knees.
“How do we figure out if we are actually changing things, or if nothing we do matters?” Carson asks.
“Well . . .” I look at Robbie, wondering if he has figured out where I’m going with this, since he knows what I want to suggest. He isn’t looking at me however, and the next thing out of his mouth reminds me that he has more on his mind than my plans to try to save the Space Shuttle.
“We see if Grandpa dies this week.”
I forget about mentioning my plan for the moment. “Do you know where he died?” I ask. “Was it in the house?”
“Yeah, what if we take a trip with him?” Francesca suggests. “We can change our location and see if that changes the way things turn out.”
“I don’t mean to be insensitive here, but why are we talking about deliberately changing the future now?” Blake asks. “Isn’t that exactly what that Malcolm guy said we shouldn’t be doing?”
“It’s easy for you to say,” Robbie retorts. “You just don’t want to screw up our chances of getting back to Mallory. But what about me? I have family I love right here.”
“You all have lives back there, too,” Blake says. “Our lives are in 2009, not here.”
“He has a point,” Carson says. “I mean, I like your grandpa a lot too, Robbie, but he was never around when we were all growing up. What happens if he is now? How much of our lives are we going to change? I like my life the way it’s going. What happens if we get back and everything about us is different?”
“Yeah, but we don’t know if we can even get back yet,” Francesca interjects. “Are we supposed to just let him die? He’s letting us live in his house. We’re eating his food every morning for breakfast. How can you guys be so cold as to just say you’re not going to help him if he’s dying?”
“We didn’t say we wouldn’t help him if he’s dying,” Carson counters.
“It sure sounded like you did,” Francesca says.
“Hey, guys, I think we’re getting out of our depth,” I say. “I didn’t mean to start an argument. I was just trying to figure out if we could learn something useful from this whole experience of Robbie’s this morning.”
“Have we?” Robbie asks.
“I don’t know,” I say.
We sit with our thoughts for a few moments, then I decide to take the conversation in a new direction. “I say we form a new plan. I think we should contact Malcolm at the Temporal Studies Society and see if we can get a meeting with Dr. Quickly sooner. Monday seems like a long way away right now, especially since Robbie’s family leaves Saturday. We don’t know what day we need to worry about in particular with Mr. Cameron, so every day counts. The sooner we figure out if we’re screwing up the universe, the better.”
“Do you think he’s going to be upset about us contacting him there when he told us not to?” Blake asks.
“We have extenuating circumstances. He should’ve had time to check out the softball field and our story by now. If he’s mad, I guess he’ll just have to deal.”
The others all seem agreeable and Francesca volunteers to be the one to call him. We file downstairs to the roll top desk and crowd around the phone as Francesca dials. “Hello. May I speak to Malcolm, please? . . . Okay.” She covers the mouthpiece and turns to us. “She’s going to get him.”
I grab a pen and pad of paper from the desk to be prepared. Francesca straightens up as someone picks up on the other end. That was fast.
“Hello, it’s Francesca, from the Pier. Oh . . . Hello.” She looks confused for a moment. “Yes, I know. But we have a situation. We would like to meet sooner . . . yes. It is very important . . . okay.”
She grabs the pad of paper and pen from me and starts scribbling. “Okay. We’ll be there. Thank you.” She puts down the phone and tells us the news. “He’ll meet us tomorrow.”
“Malcolm?” Carson asks.
“Quickly,” Francesca replies. “I was just talking to Harold Quickly.”
Chapter 7
“Cheating on a woman is always a bad idea. If your girl happens to be a time traveler, that’s worse. And if her father is a time traveler, too . . . well, now you’ve really messed up.”
-Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 2010
The St. Pete Shuffleboard club is as busy as I’ve ever seen it. The 1986 crowd seems a good bit older than the young demographic I’m used to in 2009, but the enthusiasm is the same. A squat, middle-aged woman named Annie greets us in the main building as we walk in, and asks if we’ve been here before. It occurs to me that technically we have been here after, and not before, but I simply nod and say yes. She points us to the tangs and I root through a couple, trying to find one with solid tips.
“Are we ac
tually going to play?” Carson asks.
“We are a little early,” Francesca responds. “We can probably fit a game in.”
We all grab tangs and head toward the courts. I notice a framed movie poster has been hung on the wall advertising Cocoon. Annie spies me looking at it and is at my elbow in an instant.
“Did you know they filmed a scene right here? I got to meet Ron Howard myself. He’s such a sweetheart.”
“You know, I saw that movie years ago but I never realized it was filmed here,” I say.
“You must be thinking of something else, dear. This just came out this past summer. You mean you didn’t go out and see it?”
“Oh, right. No. I wasn’t in town this past summer,” I reply.
“It was such a wonderful film. Ron Howard is so handsome now that he is grown up. And to think that we used to see him so little on The Andy Griffith Show and now he’s shooting big time movies in our city.”
Another person comes up to Annie for help and I gratefully make an exit out the door. I find my friends outside and we cruise around until we find an open lane. Blake grabs a rack of shuffleboard biscuits from a pile outside and turns back to Francesca. “How are we supposed to know when Quickly is here? Did you tell him what we look like?”
“He said he would meet us,” Francesca replies. “He never asked what we looked like. He just said be here around eight and that he would find us.”
“Do we know what he looks like?” Carson asks.
“I guess we keep an eye out for somebody who looks like he’s looking for us,” I say.
We can’t all play simultaneously, so Robbie and I decide to trade off shots. He, Francesca and I walk to the bleacher side of the lane and face off across from Blake and Carson. Robbie and I play against Francesca, while Blake contends with Carson. The match is going fairly smoothly until I accidentally knock two of my biscuits into the negative-ten-zone simultaneously while trying to move Francesca’s.
“Son of a—” I edit myself as I see an older woman eyeing me disapprovingly from the neighboring lane.
“There goes our lead.” Robbie laughs.
In Times Like These: eBook Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 8