by Wendy Nikel
Dr. Wells clears his throat, and a furrow of worry creases his brow. “I left a message in your left pocket.”
“That caused quite some trouble last time,” I say, chuckling. Dr. Wells’s warning about TUB was what set this whole thing rolling in the first place, what convinced me to go AWOL. Had he only done that because he’d known someday he’d have to send me to the past? That my time couldn’t possibly be up yet?
“Yes, well… this might cause just as much trouble, but I have confidence that it all will work out. Somehow.” Despite his words, Dr. Wells doesn’t look so sure. “There’s a date on the envelope. Don’t open it until then.”
Until the point of no return, I can’t help but think. It doesn’t matter. Something niggles at the back of my head, something I’ve forgotten, some loose thread, but whatever it is, it won’t—can’t—change my mind about wanting Juliette with me in the future, wanting her in my life.
I step into the DeLorean box and take Juliette’s hand. With the other, I wave goodbye to Dr. Wells. Only then does it hit me that this could be the last time I see the old man, and that I’ve grown to like him. To think of him as a friend.
Before I can say a thing, though, Dr. Wells hits the button, and as the present-day swirls out of existence around us, Juliette’s smile, shining like a radiant beam, guides me home.
EPILOGUE: April 15, 2113
I make every effort to ensure that Juliette’s transition to the 22nd century is an easy one, but I quickly find my worries are unfounded. Within a week, she’s ordering Punch-In, making transactions using retina scans, and trying to catch up on the past two hundred years’ worth of history on the holographic video screens. She signs up for acrobatics classes and comes home from them each day on her hover vehicle, looking flushed with excitement and eager to share everything she’s learned.
Dodge doesn’t mind having Juliette around. In fact, he’s more irritated with the fact that I went and spent so much time in the past without him.
“You’ll take me back in time someday, won’t you?” he pleads. “I never get to do anything fun.”
I laugh and ruffle his hair. I can’t believe how much I missed this kid.
“It’s not up to me,” I say. “Dr. Wells is the one with the time machines. You’ll have to ask him someday.”
“If we ever see him again,” Juliette says.
I nod and shove a hand into my pocket, thinking of the envelope I brought back with me, which now lies at the bottom of an electronic drawer beneath my bed. I’ve been tempted to open it a few times, but I’m pretty sure I’ve worked out already what it will say, and selfishly, I’d rather not think about the logical repercussions of our decision until we have to.
Over the next months, it weighs heavily on me, even as Juliette grows more and more comfortable in her surroundings. Even as we plan our wedding, with Dodge as the best man and Juliette’s acrobatics instructor—who’s quickly become one of her best friends—as the maid of honor.
Still, I keep it sealed until we’ve been married for about six months, when Juliette sits beside me on the bed we now share and clutches my hands and tells me the good news.
I’m going to be a father.
“When is the baby due?” I ask, my throat dry. I can do the math. Has Juliette realized it, too? Realized what we’ve done by bringing her here? What will need to be done someday in our future?
“April. Around the fifteenth.” Juliette beams. “Tianna assures me that after she gave birth, she was back on the trapeze within a few months, thanks to advancements in postpartum care. Chandler? What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy?”
“Of course I am. Have you told Dodge?”
“Do you think I should yet?”
“Absolutely. He’ll be thrilled.”
Juliette leans in and plants a kiss on my lips. The sensation still sends thrills through me. How did I get so lucky? Then she leaps from the bed, calling for Dodge. As soon as she’s gone, I reach down and press the button on the under-the-bed drawer. It slides out, and there’s the letter from Dr. Wells. Dated for April 15, 2115. I can’t put it off any longer.
With shaking hands, I tear it open.
Dear Chandler,
If you’ve followed my instructions and kept this sealed until the date on the envelope, then today I must congratulate you on the birth of your daughter. I must believe that by now, you’ve worked out the problem with Juliette joining you in the future; you understand, perhaps, why it would not have been my choice for you two to fall in love, and yet… and yet I couldn’t go against the experiences of my own past.
As you know, I’ve researched my Retrievers’ ancestry extensively. It’s necessary, in a job like mine. That’s how I know that Juliette is Elise’s great-great-grandmother. What I didn’t know, however, was what happened to her over the next decades. You see, there are gaps in the records, as often happens in genealogical research. Juliette disappeared from history in the summer of 1893. The next appearance of Elise’s family line is on a 1915 state census where a 19-year-old woman lists Juliette as her mother and her father simply as “C.”
You see, your daughter must return to the 1900s, or Juliette’s family line will disappear from this era. Without her presence here, there will be no Elise. And without Elise, who goes back into the past to become my very own grandmother, there will be no me.
I tell you this now, when your daughter is small, so you can decide how you wish to raise her. Whether or not you tell her that this is her destiny is up to you as her parents, but just know that eighteen years from now, I will be back, and then, she will have to return to her rightful era.
Yours through all time,
Dr. Wells
About the Author
Wendy Nikel is a speculative fiction author with a degree in elementary education, a fondness for road trips, and a terrible habit of forgetting where she's left her cup of tea. Her short fiction has been published by Fantastic Stories of the Imagination, Daily Science Fiction, Nature: Futures, and elsewhere. For more info, visit wendynikel.com
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