Undercurrents in Time

by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

  Poor fellow, Milt thought, as he entered the nursery and picked Peter up. I’d want out of there, too. The baby wasn’t wet. Milt sat in the rocking chair and held him, thinking of his latest plan to fabricate self-heating pants and gloves, hoping for some stroke of luck to help him get the idea out before someone else. Marketing his out-of-this-world ideas had proven challenging and was not at all something that came naturally to him. He was used to making startling discoveries in the dark, and sharing such a secret with just one trusted person was a big deal for him.

  After several minutes, the baby finally drifted into sleep, so Milt laid him in the crib again. He kicked his legs once or twice, then slowed, and apparently fell asleep. There was probably just thirty minutes before his alarm went off, so Milt sat back in the rocking chair for a while, leaving Tabitha to sleep undisturbed. She had been quite frazzled lately. Of course, things were tough the first few days; she was weary from childbirth and tired, while the baby was ravenously hungry and wanting to feed every hour or two. That part was not as bad. Yet, he sensed the lingering damper on Tabitha’s spirit. Sometimes it worried him, especially in the last few weeks.

  Pregnancy was a little tumultuous, especially at first. Feeling that they already knew the future, Tabitha was practically in denial. She felt like she knew their one child would be born when she was forty and would be a daughter named Patrice.

  “This is not right,” Tabitha had claimed. “It’s not supposed to be like this. We got married too early; we didn’t check the year of our wedding! This is a mistake! I can’t be pregnant already!” She grabbed him by the collar, wild-eyed.

  “Tabitha, if this baby is given to us now, then it is meant to be.” He spoke softly, gently.

  “Listen to you, Doc Braddock, talking about fate! We saw the future! This was not what we saw!” Her voice teetered fiercely on the verge of panic.

  He had worked really hard to reason with her, explaining that the future is never set in stone. Their experiences seemed to leave her a little more vulnerable. She grew to love Peter, though, feeling him kick at night, as active as a soccer player. After a while she seemed to forget the future world with Patrice and a grandson named Brandon.

  Maybe there still would be a Patrice, after all. Milt never mentioned it, though. At one point she had said that the first baby may have ended up lost, and they later would have had a girl. Milt wouldn’t entertain such notions. Neither of them could stand to lose someone they love as they experienced in their travels to the future. No future they visited was concrete, yet they grew attached to certain people they met, and then they had to witness a future without them. Time travel was certainly an emotional undertaking for people like Tabitha and Milt.

  Beep, beep, beep. The alarm rang out. Time to wake up for work. He had to get ready and catch a train to his 9 a.m. class at George Washington University.

  Moving to the bedroom, he was surprised to see Tabitha getting out of bed.

  “Don’t you need your sleep?”

  “Sure. Yeah. I do, but I’m going in to the gallery today.”

  “The gallery? It’s kind of soon for that.”

  “I just want to talk to the owner and give him an approximate return date. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. So I am getting my hair done at 10, I mean, look at these raggedy ends! And Peter will need a morning feeding before Natasha gets here.”

  “Who’s Natasha?”

  “Don’t look at me like that! You think I’d leave our child in the hands of a stranger? Come on, think. Who watched the baby when I went to the doctor two weeks ago?”

  “Oh, that one. And, how do we know her?”

  “Don’t even. DON’T. EVEN.”

  “Tabitha---”

  “Ugh! You can’t even remember the details of this woman to whom we are trusting our son’s life? She goes to my best friend’s church!” Her voice gradually kept going up. “She was trained as a nanny! In fact, I’m planning to hire her when I go back full-time!”

  “Full-time? You’re already thinking about that?”

  “Oh, stop it! You’re killing me. Enough. Enough. We’ve already talked about this.” She turned around in a huff as if to dismiss him.

  He looked at her in a daze. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Of course they’d talked about it; he just wasn’t ready to accept it. But he wouldn’t say that. He also was still feeling groggy, being half asleep.

  “Please, just don’t talk to me now. The gallery’s busy season is coming up, I need to discuss my re-entry into work with them. Oh, and their New Year’s party is five days away!”

  “Oh yeah, New Year’s.”

  “Sometimes, for all your smarts, I don’t think you have one single social clue!”

  “That was uncalled for. Look, I’m sorry. I am. We don’t always think the same way.”

  “That’s an understatement! Well then, I guess you’re okay with my choice of baby-sitter. And yes, I intend to go back to work full-time. That car of mine is a rust-bucket and won’t last much longer,” she stated.

  Milt put both arms around her, and rested his check on hers. He didn’t mention the hard work it took to afford their new house, though it was on the tip of his tongue. “Things will get better, I promise. I understand you wanting to go back to work. I am trying. It takes time to market my ideas. And the best ideas I have, I don’t trust them to the world.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. “It’s just overwhelming how things have changed. I just, just don’t know sometimes.” A flood of tears escaped her eyes. She wiped them away with one hand.

  Milt kissed her on the cheek. “Are you going to be alright?”

  “Well, I forgot to send out the Christmas letter this year. I got a call from Aunt Marie chiding me for it, and then she asks, ‘When are you baptizing the child?’ I couldn’t tell her we haven’t even discussed it.”

  This was true; the details of a baptism had gotten lost in the plethora of daily chores, tasks, and plans. Milt hadn’t seen it as necessary to save the child’s soul, though he wouldn’t be adverse to it. Still, he hadn’t stepped into a church since, well, since they had visited the Worship Center in 2047. “We should talk about that,” he offered.

  “Yes. Someday. And yes, I am going to be alright.” She sniffled. Tabitha was proud and stubborn, and darn it, at times just downright emotional. Her emotions went haywire lately. She hated herself for feeling this weak, which only made it all worse.

  “I’m sorry, but I need the shower,” he said, dropping his arms to his side, needing to get around her.

  She sniffled back at him, and it came out in a laugh. An ironic laugh, not joyful at all.

  “I could take the morning off,” he offered.

  “No, no dear. This is not an emergency. It’s just an adjustment to our new life. I’ll be okay, really.”

  “Call me after you get your hair done. I’ll be done with class by then. Really, give me a call. Oh, I forgot, I’m doing some research after hours today on a man named Stein. He’s a weapons engineer. This is important. I won’t be too late. But don’t worry, I’ll check in with Natasha, okay?”

  “Yeah. But why is this so important?”

  “The man we discovered when we took our journey in the Envo, Mahoney, went back in time to wipe out the family of the man who was courting his sweetheart. There was a vague reference to his cutting edge weapon.”

  “Hmmm.” She headed out to the kitchen to start the coffee, trying to recall why she’d need be concerned with that and heard the shower start.

  Milt looked at her dejectedly. Normally she would have asked further questions. The old Tabitha would have, but things were different now.

  Jack Fontaine, a private detective whom Milt hired, had researched and turned up a name, Percival Stein. He was a man who worked with George Mahoney on and off. He also had extensive knowledge of the science of weaponry, and Mahoney would later travel back in time with some mysterious weapon, killing the whole family of
a man who was his rival and therefore also taking out his rival. This was revealed in their travels to 2047, and it seemed quite evident that at some point in time, Mahoney would develop a dislike for Milt or a desire to discredit and perhaps even steal some of his inventions. It might have been better not knowing, but Milt felt it was his duty to be ready for the day he met this man.

  Milt turned on the water and thought fondly of the days Tabitha had been so tickled by his scientific efforts.

  He pondered telling her about the interview at M.I.T. He’d have to be gone all day Thursday and might come home late. Sure, she’d worry, but he had to do this. He had formed two distinct plans, and he wasn’t sure which fork in the road to take. If he took plan A, he would go and botch the interview so badly, they’d never let him near the campus again in his life. Perhaps that was how he would have met Dr. George Mahoney in the future. If he took plan B, he’d do his best and nose around the campus a little, maybe to even find out where Mahoney’s office or lab were located. This would require further planning. He’d have to return to plant something damning. Ideas were taking shape.

  As the shower blasted, Tabitha rummaged through the dresser and found an old dance top she used to wear. Impulsively, she changed into it. She’d already been wearing tight leggings, the kind she normally wore with a huge t-shirt to bed.

  She could feel that the top now fit quite snuggly, but she went to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. No, the fit was great; it hung off one of her shoulders as was the required look when she had bought it. Now it fit more snuggly across the chest. She did a little shimmy and a flip of her honey streaked hair, remembering when she used to attend dance lessons and later, Jazzercise, wearing this shirt. It was hard not to giggle at herself. It didn’t feel natural to move that way now. Then, there was her little bit of belly bulge. She covered it with her hand and did another little shimmy. Perhaps more of these moves would help her lose that little bulge.

  The shower had stopped, but Tabitha didn’t notice. She startled as she turned left and saw Milt standing there, a towel wrapped around his waist, watching her. Milt, who gained weight along with her in pregnancy and magically, and unfairly, had lost it in the last month. Lost in a reverie, she had forgotten that she wasn’t alone.

  “Don’t stop,” Milt pleaded earnestly. “I was enjoying that.”

  “Oh, God, I’m being ridiculous. I haven’t worn this thing in years, and probably for good reason, too.”

  He stepped out carefully and put his arms around her, towel still secured around him. She could feel the hair of his chest against her arm, still cool from the shower. He was tall, and if she wanted to, she could fit her head underneath his chin.

  “You are still so beautiful,” he whispered.

  She released his arms and hands. “’Still’ beautiful? Please, Milt, I need to go and change.” Embarrassed, she pushed his hands away and hurried from the bathroom.

  Milt was unsure what to do, so he stepped back, reading her cues. He stood scratching his head for a moment, at a loss for words.

  Pity, it had almost had the potential to be a romantic moment. Those didn’t happen much lately. Though, with the way she’d reacted, he’d surely lost any desire that had struck him. He tried to consider how he could have handled it better and came up with nothing.

  Chapter 3

  Among the Living

  Lunch: an orange and a granola bar. Water on the side. Tabitha didn’t even want to eat that much, but her stomach had been growling. Fruit was good for digestion, and the granola bar would make her feel full. Well, sort of. She was constantly remembering those extra pounds lately. She sat in the back room of the art gallery as she waited for Carl to finish with a client and pondered the last minute phone call she’d received that morning.

  Her brother, Jared, had been to a jail and a county rehab again, followed by a stay at a halfway house. The nice gentleman who ran it, Bill Foss, called her as she’d requested.

  “Jared ran off again. I’m sorry. It was late last night; I didn’t want to disturb you then.”

  “What time?”

  “About 3 a.m. Don’t you worry, honey, he’s got a good head on his shoulders; he’ll come around again.”

  Sure. Again, and again. He’d likely also stray again, and again. “Okay, thank you.” She slammed down the phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Milt asked

  “It’s Jared. He left the half-way house.”

  “Any idea where he went?”

  “No. I’ll check with Louise, but if he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t.” Tabitha looked down.

  Neither of them had spoken their thoughts and suppositions, but this couldn’t be good. If Jared wasn’t staying in the home, he was likely out in the streets, and there was nothing good for him there.

  Tabitha struggled to remain strong. When she had first seen him after several years, she wanted to take him in, feed him, and take care of him. He completed one thirty-day rehab. She was aware he had tried rehab before. This time he went willingly, inspired by seeing his common-law wife, Louise, and the baby again. Still, he had his slip ups. Tabitha and Milt had been warned by Jack Fontaine, a private investigator who had dealt with these situations before, to keep a slight distance. As Jack said, “Don’t give him your address, or he may end up bringing drugs to your house. Don’t give him your phone number, or he’ll show up at your house with the cops after him.” It went against her instincts, but she adhered, especially now that they had a child. In Tabitha and Milt’s new home, the phone was unlisted, and a cell phone was purchased for any communication with Jared and even Louise. Jack had also said, “Her first loyalty is to him, not you.” It was so hard to be distrusting of a loved one, when she wanted to believe he would turn around.

  Tabitha jotted on the notepad she took from her purse. 1. Call Denham Housing Project, inform Louise. 2. Walk this afternoon, thirty minutes. First, assemble jogging stroller. She’d kept putting that off. Those nice clothes of hers wouldn’t just fit magically, though. 3. Find girdle for Y2K party. She was out in the real world now. Or, was that just perception? Wasn’t the world of diapers, baby powder, and her son’s chubby hands just as real? She felt a brief pang of guilt, adding one more thing to her list: 4. New Year’s shirt for the baby.

  Y2K. New Year’s Eve was coming, and this would be a big one. Tabitha and Milt had already accepted an invitation to a party at the home of his director of the Science department, Dr. Matthews. She also had committed to being at the gallery on New Year’s for a while. There was a party there as well, and Tabitha felt obliged to spend a few hours. She needed to remain an invaluable piece of the framework at Hardwick Gallery, and remaining visible could only help. She had the best dress; she just needed something to cinch in the extra bits that developed from pregnancy. It seemed hopeless she’d lose the last pounds in five days.

  There were so many other things she could put on that list but didn’t. Just these four seemed overwhelming. She stashed the notepad away. Briefly, she thought of Peter and instantly missed him, so she picked up the wall phone to call home.

  Feeling reasonably assured that everything was alright with Natasha and the baby, Tabitha headed to the front of the gallery, where deals were made, clients were schmoozed, and artists were brought on board. She’d be making some calls to ensure all arrangements for the Y2K party were firm. The owner handed her the guest list as he spoke to another client on the phone. Their part-time receptionist had taken some calls, but many RSVPs had gone to the answering machine. Best to reply with a human voice. All of these touches were not foreign to Tabitha, and she knew several of the names from the call list. She had worked here for a few years and knew how to talk to people. The owner didn’t seem to mind her down-to-earth appearance today, either. At least she knew how to dress for parties.

  He couldn’t really complain. The hairdo was gorgeous, sprayed into place, and it wouldn’t move. Hopefully, it would stay for a few days. No, better no
t risk it. She took out her notepad and added a #5 to her list: appointment at hair salon for 12/30. Better call them right before leaving the gallery. Am I getting carried away with the money? Oh, who cares! I can’t do this to my hair with Peter in my arms. At least I’m not buying a new dress. Well, I ought to buy new shoes. All my shoes fit so tightly now. Who knew my feet would grow too? So, there’s #6 on the list. She sighed. Being out in the real world was already making her feel tired. She had felt so excited about being in the grown-up world of work again, surrounded by adults, but she had this newly uncomfortable body to try and fit into the world she once inhabited so gracefully.

  #

  Late afternoon. Hair appointment made. She’d carried a call list with her from the gallery, having reached only three attendees before having to leave. New shoes were a wash. Nothing fit right at the store down the street from Hardwick. How disheartening. None of those pregnancy books had prepared her for bigger feet. Would she really have to go a size up? Ugh!

  Back home, Tabitha sat in the kitchen with her cell phone and called the number from her address book.

  “Hullo?” The slow, smooth drawl greeted her.

  “Hi, Louise. How is Calais?”

  “Walkin’! And pretty and fine as evah. She talks up a storm, too!” The woman laughed. “Oh, how’s your baby?”

  “He’s doing great. Growing by leaps and bounds.” Her voice got lower. “I got a call about Jared. Have you heard from him?”

  “Yup.” Louise’s voice grew faint. “He told me he had to go see an ol’ friend. I don’ like it. I told him to give it up and go back to the home. It don’t sound good, Tabitha. He’s on the run again.”

  “Do you have *69 on your phone to find out where he was calling from?”

  Louise quietly answered, “No.”

  Tabitha didn’t question it. Who was she to comment, unless she wanted to pay their phone bill? The thought had occurred to her, though. “Okay. The man at the halfway house told me just as much. I’m sorry, Louise. Any idea where he might be headed?”