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    And Then There Were Two

    August 19, 2009
    By Molly in Posts

    Rich knows something I don’t, and I think it disturbs him a little. Or, maybe a lot.

    Dan’s mother, Samantha arrived last night, her driver, Christopher dropping her off, bringing her bags in the house and after politely refusing to stay for dinner, left. I’d heard of Christopher, but had never met him. Dan told us that he’d grown up with the family, his mother had been a long-time employee and when she passed away while Christopher was in high school, he’d stayed living with them, finishing high school and then going into the military for 4 years. He’d been Samantha’s driver and personal assistant since getting out of the Army, some 8 years ago, but I don’t know much more.

    Samantha looks great, and says she feels the same. Dan, Rich and I walked outside when we heard her Mercedes pull up, tires crunching on the driveway, and she didn’t wait for Christopher to open her door, but instead did it herself and got out of the car. I got to her first, and hugged her, feeling her surprisingly strong embrace in response. When she let me go, I was surprised to see her eyes moist as they looked straight into mine. She seemed to catch herself then, and stepped over to hug Rich.

    “Hello traveler,” she said, a small smile on her face, incongruous to her voice, which was ever so slightly choked. I didn’t really know what to make of all this, I’m assuming she’s been reading the blog and has gotten caught up in the story, as so many readers have. Many of the emails we get are touching, and it never fails to surprise us that so many complete strangers really care about what’s happening to us. I guess Samantha is one of the many who read, but don’t write.

    When Rich and Dan’s mother’s embrace ended, I caught a fleeting look pass between the two of them, on Samantha’s face an expression more questioning that Rich’s.

    “Uh, you know, your son’s here too, Mom,” Dan said, laughingly breaking the suddenly tense silence.

    “Oh, you,” Samantha laughed, reaching toward Dan as he approached her. “I just saw you a couple months ago,” Samantha replied, “these two I haven’t seen for ages.”

    “I know, I know,” Dan replied teasingly, “you always loved them better. I understand.” Samantha kissed her only son, stroking his head as if he were still her 10 year old boy.

    She reached up with her other hand and held his head then in both hands and looked at Dan. “You look more like your father every day, my sweet. So handsome.”

    This clearly embarrassed Dan greatly, but he still smiled, face red. I saved our friend by saying “I don’t know where Sam is, Samantha,” looking back toward the house.

    “That’s alright,” she responded, “she’s probably taking a walk in the woods. Such a beautiful day!” Samantha looked around, seeming to marvel at the setting. “So beautiful here.”

    “You know, I think you’re right,” I said, “she told me she was going for a walk.” We all turned to go in the house, and I glanced at Rich, who seemed lost in thought, clearly preoccupied with something that seemed to come up when Dan’s mother arrived and stepped out of her car. I lagged back to match Rich’s pace as Dan and his mother walked toward the house and he pointed out some of his handiwork. Dan was so proud of “Mobius Manor,” and for good reason. It was beautiful.

    “What’s the matter, hon?” I asked Rich.

    My husband didn’t reply for a few seconds, but then his concern seemed to melt away and he smiled slightly. “Nothing, my love. Everything’s fine. I promise you.” He sealed the promise with a bigger smile as he put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer for a kiss. “Everything’s fine.”

  1. Reunion, Part the Second

    August 16, 2009
    By Molly in Posts

    There is a countdown clock running. Every second that clicks away, means we’re a second closer to Rich leaving us again. He arrived here two days ago. I was in the kitchen, washing new glasses and dishes and putting the away, when I heard voices outside on the porch. I immediately knew that Rich was back. Putting the glass I was drying down, I crossed the front room in a few steps. It’s cool enough to have the front door open, with the screen door shut, and as I got there, I could see Rich and Dan both standing there, Rich’s back to me. The first thing I heard clearly was “I was trying to get to Molly. Damn it!

    I smiled and said “Looks like you found her.” The look on Rich’s face was wonderful, a combination of surprise and relief. He bounded up onto the porch and grabbed me in a hug. My husband was home. For a short time, anyway. Dan quietly made his exit, and we spent a few moments alone, not talking, just hugging, before going inside to find Samantha.

    *     *     *

    It’s late at night, two days after Rich’s return, and I’m the last one still awake at this place that Dan calls “Mobius Manor” I’m not sure exactly what it’s for, but Rich was insistent with Dan that he build it for him. It’s very nice, not exactly my taste, a log-cabin type style, but nice and comfortable. The setting is beautiful, in the middle of the woods, on a piece of property that Dan tells us the Rich who left the time capsule in 1952 purchased through a trust. Who is in control of the trust, I’m not sure, and no one’s talking. Both Rich and Dan claim they don’t know who is calling the financial shots, and I have to tell you, this concerns me a little. No, actually it concerns me a lot. I thought there were a lot of unanswered questions before, but that was just the beginning. This thing is getting deeper and deeper, and the only people who seem to know anything about it aren’t here. Richard Girrard obviously knows the whole story, but not the 50 year old Rich that’s here. The Rich he’ll become knows it, but he doesn’t exist in 2009, so I don’t have access to him. I guess that I, like everyone else here, has to wait for time itself to reveal the story.

    In two days, Dan’s mother, also named Samantha (we named our Sam after her) will be here. We haven’t seen her in a number of years, but there are always Christmas and birthday cards. We used to see her often, but once Samantha got to about age 3, things seemed to change. She was still as attentive, just from a distance, by phone and later, email. Her husband, a successful attorney in Chicago, had died that year, so we attributed her withdrawl to that. Dan had no explanation, either.

    Dan swears he hasn’t told his mother what’s going on with us, but I suppose it’s possible that she’s reading this blog. Samantha does email, but at her age, I’d frankly, be surprised if she was all that web savvy. Maybe I’m wrong. When Dan told us last night about his mother coming, it was obvious he didn’t know why. Samantha and I were shocked, as was Rich at first. We had just finished dinner, and were having some wine. All of us were in extremely happy spirits, but Rich’s mood changed when the information sunk in. He wasn’t upset, you could just tell that he was considering something complicated.

    What would Dan’s mother have to do with that?

    Anyway, Rich snapped out of it 15 minutes later, and our conversation turned lively again, as my husband told us about his adventures in the thirties. He’s got several notebooks of information – notes, stories, and information. It’s been 3 years (for Rich) since he typed on a keyboard, but he said he’d do a blog post in the morning. I told him how much the audience of The Time Traveler Blog had grown, and how many emails we’d gotten, and Rich was floored. He was a little uneasy about the story being so widely known, but both Dan and I assured him the number of cranks were few. He loosened up about it at that point.

    Hopefully, more from Rich tomorrow.

  2. In Belton

    August 11, 2009
    By Molly in Posts

    Samantha and I got here yesterday, Dan meeting us at the airport in Indianapolis, and we drove to Belton, following the same route Rich did when he made the drive that started this whole thing. Much like Rich described the weather during his trip, yesterday was beautiful. Sunny, in the 70s and only a few innocuous clouds. Samantha hadn’t been in Indiana since she was a baby, and so she had no memory of it. So different from California, though she usually laughed about the “hicks” and “hoosiers” who live in Indiana, she was clearly impressed by the fields, the beautiful green and yellow corn fields we passed as we sped along Highway 36. It was an adventure for her, made even more exciting by the thought that she’d get to see her Daddy, and not 70 years old this time, but probably looking the same as when he vanished in December.

    I was excited too, if a little uneasy about what Rich was going to try and convince me to do. I hadn’t a clue what it was, but was somewhat comforted in that he was emphatic about what he wanted us to do, but not desperate. Desperation I would have interpreted to be his trying to undo something that had happened. I’m not sure it makes any sense to someone who hasn’t been through this before, but his confidence implied to me that what he wanted to happen, had happened in his timeline. And speaking of timelines, I’ve been reading a lot about time travel in the past few months, working hard to grasp the physics of the phenomenon, and fit the whole thing into what’s happening to us. I’m not at all sure that what Rich knows to have happened will happen in this timeline, but it’s possible.

    We’re clear than  Rich has traveled in time via two different methods, both in body and in, what I would suppose you would call consciousness or even spirit. He lived almost 15 years in his past when his consciousness traveled to 1976 immediately after the accident. Then, in December of last year, he disappeared from San Diego and, as he expected, traveled to 1933. If all goes as we think it will, Rich will travel from 1936 to now, here in Belton.

    Dan was very excited to show us the house. It’s beautiful, from the rustic-looking sign at the gravel driveway gate that says “Mobius Manor,” to the elegantly simple,  finished interior. Samantha and I got the grand tour, with Dan pointing out all the subtle, fine points of the house’s construction. He did a wonderful job.

    Samantha though, was a little reserved, and I can tell that her intuition is saying the same thing as mine, that Rich is going to insist that we move here. Clearly, Dan built this house for us. If it’s for Rich’s return, that’s one thing, but if he’s going to ask us to live here without him because of something he has learned, found or figured out in his three years in the 1930s, that’s going to be difficult.

    As he says in this post, Dan believes Rich has learned something in the future that has convinced him to shelter us all here, and that he’ll be able to control his time traveling and stay with us. Maybe.

    Whatever the case, we’ll all have an answer to those questions in a couple days.

  3. By Molly in Posts

    I’m not going to lie to you. At first, it was a shock. My husband, who I last saw just over six months ago, suddenly standing in our kitchen.

    And he was old.

    70 years old.

    If you had never met Rich, you would have probably thought hey, there’s a guy,  about 60, who takes pretty good care of himself.

    But to me, and even more dramatically, to our daughter Samantha, he was old. It was, to say the least, shocking. But at the same time, to see my husband, my partner, my love, the father of my beautiful daughter, here and safe, was a joy. I  knew the exact time he’d be appearing in the kitchen, but  I don’t think that was why I felt him here a couple seconds before I heard his voice.

    “Hi sweetheart.”

    I didn’t know where in the kitchen he would appear, so naturally, I wasn’t facing the right direction. I saw a little disturbance in the air to my right and then heard his voice. I spun around, startled, and saw him first check the clock. Rich reached into his pocket, pulled out a small notebook and a pencil and wrote something down. Then, before anything else, asked “what’s the date, honey?”

    I told him, and he wrote that down too. Putting the notebook and pencil back in his pocket, he held out his arms and walked toward me. I met him halfway and almost knocked him down with a hug. We stayed that way in silence for a few seconds before we heard “DADDY!”

    Samantha rushed in the kitchen and collided with us,  still embracing. She was starting to cry, but I could tell there was relief in her emotion, not grief. As our daughter pulled back after a few seconds, though, and she really looked at her father’s face, concern came rolling over her. “Daddy, you’re old. What…?”

    “I’m 70, munchkin. I’m here from 1952.” He smiled, and I have to admit that it caused a little flash of anger in me, that he would be so at ease and calm at seeing his family for the first time in over 20 of his years. I know how it felt for us, and it had only been 6 months since we’ve seen him. It made me a little mad. What kind of life had he been living in the past, I wondered. Obviously a comfortable one, I realized. Then, to me, Rich said “were you expecting me?”

    I nodded. At this response,  he closed his eyes, exhaled and smiled. “Dan found the box, then?”

    I nodded again, a little confused at the priorities my husband was exhibiting here, and Samantha jumped in. “Uncle Dan’s almost finished the house you wanted him to build in Indiana,” she said.

    Rich smiled a curious smile and said “excellent, honey. That’s great,” with a little chuckle. The strangest thought hit me at that moment that either there was a joke neither Samantha nor I was in on, or in some weird way (as if standing in your kitchen with your time traveling husband wasn’t weird enough), this wasn’t really my husband.

    I looked back at him. “What?” I asked, shaking my head.

    “Nothing.” Another smile as he replied. “Everything. Look, my dears, I don’t think I’m going to be here very long. Did Dan say just how long?”

    “About two hours,” I replied.

    “Okay. Let’s go sit down and talk,” Rich said, heading toward the family room. As he walked from the kitchen into the bigger, more comfortable room where we spent most of  our time together, I caught him looking around as if he hadn’t seen the place in 20 years. Which, of course, he hadn’t.

    Samantha got us lemonade from the fridge, and as she handed the glass to Rich, he looked at with a little smile on his face. It took me a couple seconds to again realize that he hasn’t seen this place in a long time, and the nostalgia had to be a little disorienting. But, he seemed to put it aside, took a drink from the glass and smiled at me.

    “How have you been?”

    How have I BEEN? I shook my head slightly and the ridiculousness of the question and replied “I haven’t seen my husband in almost 8 months! THAT’S how I’ve been!” I wasn’t exactly angry, but I have to admit, I was a little put off by his off-handedness.

    Rich put his glass down on the coffee table in front of us, leaned in to me and putting his hand on my knee said “sweetheart, I know this is very strange. I know my behavior seems odd to you, but please trust me. This will all work out. I promise.”

    I shook my head, sighing a little and looking over at Samantha, still standing in the middle of the room, hugging herself, clearly not sure what to make of all this. It was Sam who spoke next, after a few seconds. “You’re only staying for a couple hours, Daddy?” she asked, trying not to cry.

    “Just a couple hours, I guess,” Rich answered, “But, I’ll be back next month. Not here, but I’ll be back.”

    “What do you mean not here?” I asked.

    “I’ll be at the house in Belton on August 17th. About 10am. I’ll be there for just over two weeks,” he replied.

    “How do you know that?” Samantha asked.

    “Because for me, that was 17 years ago,” he said. “I came here now from 1952. I’ll be going to Belton in August from 1935. I won’t know about this trip, because for me, it won’t have happened yet, but I need you to be there, at the house in Belton. The one I’m going to have Dan build.”

    Then, he paused, shook his head and corrected himself. “The one he’s building now, I mean.”

    “Okay,” I answered, “we’ll be there. Of course, we’ll be there.”

    “And this is very important,” Rich said, his voice lowering. I looked in his eyes, still bright, but older. This was my husband, but a man who has been through some very different experiences than the one I saw last some 8 months ago.

    I nodded.

    “I’m going to ask you both to do something you’re not going to want to do, but it’s vitally important that you do it. It may be a little scary, but I promise you, it will all work out fine, and you will see that it’s the right thing to do. I’ve seen that, I assure you.”

    I had no idea what he was talking about, but this didn’t sound good. I looked up at Samantha, and she looked as concerned as me. I could tell that this was almost too much for her.

    Rich continued. “I’m going to sound a little crazy when I suggest it to you, but believe me, the years I’ve spent since then have done nothing but confirm that what I believed was true. Please do what I try and convince you to do, okay?”

    I nodded, since arguing about it here would just waste the short time we had for this “visit,” and the mood lightened after that. We’d have time to talk about this next month in Belton, apparently. My Rich, one much closer to the Rich who left here a few months ago would be there with us, and that would have to be easier.

    We talked a lot about what we had gone through here. The phone calls, what I had been telling people regarding his sudden absence. I began to notice that anytime the conversation turned toward what he has been doing in the 19 years he’s lived since disappearing on that December morning, he would direct the conversation back to us. We were talking about what Samantha was doing this summer, and mid-sentence, Rich stopped, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small clear cube, about three inches square, made out of some acrylic-looking material. It had a small opening in the top. Rich handed it to me, saying “I don’t want to leave this in the ground. It’s durable, but I don’t want to take any chances. Dan will know how to use it. It’s to read a stick I’ll bury for him to find. Don’t mail this to him, take it with you when you go to Belton.”

    I took the cube and nodded, turning it over in my hand. When I looked back up to Rich to ask him what it’s for, it was just me sitting on the sofa. I glanced at the clock on the mantle. Just over two hours. I quickly looked over at Samantha, and she was sitting on the carpet in the middle of the floor, her mouth open, eyes wide.

    “He was there and then…He was…Just…Gone.” And she started to cry.

The Time Traveler's Blog is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.