Einstein's Secret (26 page)

The seconds went by and the house was quiet. Then I heard a scream, a kind of wail, and I knew what had just happened.

I ran out of the basement, through the house, and into the study. Clavin was collapsed on a chair, and tears were sliding down his face.

“We can bring him back to life,” I said. “This is another history. It doesn’t have to exist.”

Clavin didn’t say anything for a few seconds. With wet and fearful eyes, he stared at Weldon’s lifeless body. Then he looked at me, and a steely cold took over his demeanor. “Tell me what I need to do.”

*

Henry Clavin and I didn’t use natural gas or my pilfered road flare to execute Einstein’s final wish. There were plenty of flammable liquids in the house, so we made small “bombs” by dumping the liquid into four empty paint cans.

We placed those cans into a metal trashcan, which we set up against the basement wall. Then we filled the trashcan with gasoline and created a fuse from rags.

After I was safely through the wormhole, Clavin would use the fuse to ignite the gas, which would heat the paint cans until they exploded.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” he said, after I told him about everything that had transpired because of the bridge. “How can we really know what the old history—the real history—is?”

“I’m not sure we can,” I said, and I wasn’t. But from everything I’d seen over the previous few days, and from what Einstein had written, I hoped we could preserve most of that old history. “None of this quite fits together in a way that we’ll ever understand.”

“That’s what worried Professor Einstein.”

“Time travel is messy.”

Clavin smiled for the first time. “I heard him say that, too. On the last weekend he was here.”

“He was right.”

With everything set, I had one thing left to do. Focus on that day in August, the day before I’d driven to Rockville and met Henry Clavin for the first time.

I pictured myself rushing across the UVA campus, past pristine lawns, and heading up the steps of Old Cabell Hall. Eddie suddenly approached me and wanted me to skip orientation. He pulled out his copy of
Fame—

Here, my mind started to wander. Probably because of the gas fumes wafting through the basement. Instead of sticking to that day, I saw my copy of
Fame
magazine in a box of magazines at a yard sale. I saw Alex stepping out of the elevator in hospital scrubs. I saw Van Doran shooting Einstein. I saw my stolen car speeding through the drive-in and smashing into my dad.

My thoughts were too scattered to make a run for the wall.

I saw Clavin and Ruth Meyer at Princeton Hospital, and then I saw the synchronicity of the hospital rooms I’d been in. Clavin’s, Laura’s, and Einstein’s.

Then I latched onto the fleeting image of Laura.

I saw her trekking up Jackson Hill to Gray’s Cabin and then I saw her on the day we first met. In the Iliad Bookstore. It was the same day that I hoped to return to. I walked in to pick up the packet of handouts for my class.

Laura didn’t look up, but I could still see she was beautiful. She was concentrating on her book, and her short red hair fell over one of her cheeks.

I walked up to the counter.

She looked up, revealing hazel eyes.

I told her what class I was teaching, and her jaw tightened in anger.

She looked me over and then called me the lucky winner.

I joked about Alex, which made her grin.

That night, we hiked up Jackson Hill and looked over the dark valley. We talked about her future and mine.

She was the woman I hoped to get to know during my tenure in Charlottesville.

I ran into the wall and was immediately engulfed in the heat of the white ocean. I ran until the oxygen began to disappear and the whiteness became infinite. I stumbled down and felt the cool stone floor.

The ocean started to dissipate and gave way to the carrel around me—and, more importantly, what was in the carrel.

Alex’s desk and bookshelves.
And
his books and files.

I was back.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I made my way through the Caves, up through the trap door, and into Grace Hall. Before I exited the building, I grabbed a campus paper from a stack by the entrance and checked the date.

The Dorothy Theorem had worked. I’d come back to the right day. If all was back to normal, or close to it, Alex would be in New York, and I hadn’t yet been fired from my new job.

Outside, I asked a student the time. His answer told me what I had to do next. Talk to Eddie. At this point in the day, Eddie had already approached me with his copy of
Fame
, but he hadn’t yet told me about Clavin’s resurrection.

My car was exactly where I’d parked it the last time I’d lived through this day. So getting to Eddie was going to be easy. But deciding what to say to him wasn’t. My goal was to stop him from researching Einstein’s secret any further. I wanted to make sure there was no chance of changing history again.

I could’ve counted on the wormhole being sealed to stop the changes, but I wasn’t ready to. Not yet. I’d count on that only when I was sure the changes had stopped.

As I drove to Eddie’s place, I realized that our roles would be reversed. Instead of him trying to convince me to drive up to Rockville, I had to convince him
not
to. I had to convince him that he’d already done his job. That he’d already talked me into pursuing his lead, and that his lead had paid off.

And there was only one way to prove that.

I knocked on Eddie’s door. When he answered, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought I’d have to do a little more lobbying to get you to help me.”

“I’m a sucker when it comes to Einstein’s secret.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place.” He motioned me inside.

I sat on the couch and asked him the same question he’d asked me the first time around. “Henry Clavin—How much do you know about him?”

He laughed. “That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

I repressed the overwhelming impulse to jump right into the topic of bridges and wormholes. My twelve-year odyssey was now over and Eddie had played a major role. I badly wanted to describe to him how Einstein’s final night had really played out, even if I sounded insane.

But I didn’t jump into it. It was only when Eddie invited me to the Caves, where he said he had something to show me, that I started to open up.

“Clavin didn’t die in a car accident,” I said.

“You already know?”

“You’re the one who told me.”

Eddie cocked his head. “What?”

“In another version of history, you took me to the Caves and you told me about Clavin.”

Eddie leaned back in the easy chair and stared at me, wide-eyed, as if he were facing an alien, which in a way he was. He was silent for a full thirty seconds before he spoke again. In a quiet, almost reverential tone, he said, “What do you mean another history?”

“You’re right, Eddie. Einstein’s secret is about time travel. What he called a bridge.”

“I never told anyone that.”

“You told me.”

He stood up, and I wasn’t sure if he was going to kick me out, so I forged ahead. “I used the bridge. You did, too.”

“This is science fiction, right?”

“When
you
told me about time travel,
I
was the one who thought it was science fiction. But you have a theory, don’t you? About Einstein and time travel. And your plan is not to tell me about it just yet. First, you want to tell me about Clavin.”

“This can’t be happening.”

“There’s another history that plays out. Or, I should say,
almost
plays out. It’s a history that would’ve replaced this one.”

“How can I have told you what I believed if I don’t remember telling you?”

“I don’t have an answer.”

“And how is it that you remember the other history?”

“I don’t know. But that’s what Einstein’s secret is all about. Time travel is messy. He couldn’t understand how it worked.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “So do you have any proof of any of this?”

“History isn’t changing anymore.” At least, I hoped it wasn’t. Because that was my proof. “Clavin isn’t in the hospital up in Rockville. He died in that car accident. Like he always did.”

Eddie wouldn’t have to go to the Caves to check that out. Clavin’s obituary would be right there on the Internet, as it’d been when I’d found it so many years ago.

Eddie hurried into his bedroom and returned with his laptop. He sat down and clicked away on his keyboard. Then he looked up, stunned. “The trails are gone.”

“Because there’s no more time travel,” I said, and silently thanked Clavin for sealing the wormhole.

Eddie went back to tapping away on his laptop, probably racing through the Internet verifying that the trails were truly gone. I sat back, relieved and pleased that the changes had stopped.

After another couple of minutes, Eddie let out a sigh. “So I miss out on the adventure of a lifetime.”

“It was more of a nightmare than an adventure.”

“This bridge—where was it?”

I told him I’d fill him in on everything later. He deserved to know. But for right now, I had a couple of other loose ends to take care of.

In the back of my mind, I hoped that I wouldn’t have to fill him in. Ever. Maybe history would correct itself enough to wipe out what Eddie knew about time travel. And what
I
knew about it.

I was afraid that the more I talked about it, and the more I thought about it, the more the other history had a chance of returning. I’d learned that facts were malleable, and I didn’t want to risk changing the historical record again.

*

I headed to Greenley’s with the intention of running into McKenzie. In the prior version of this day, McKenzie had spotted me at Greenley’s with Eddie, and though there was no way to know if that had played a role in my getting fired, I wanted to change that part of my day.

This time, McKenzie and I would have an amiable conversation about my classes. Then I’d wait and see if that fateful phone call from the department still came.
Professor McKenzie would like to set up a meeting with you in the morning.

The coffee shop was packed, and as I stood in line, I realized just how much I wanted my firing to have been part of the other history. A trail that had blazed through this history. A history where I got to teach at UVA. A history where I’d been given a fresh start.

I ordered my coffee and waited at the counter.

It wasn’t long before Professor McKenzie walked in. He got in line without noticing me, but my hunch was that he soon would. Then I’d get the first hint of whether my dismissal belonged in this history or not.

He glanced around the shop, and his eyes fell on me. I smiled. He returned my smile with the same forced smile he’d used when he’d spotted me with Eddie. That was a bad sign. It wasn’t Eddie that had motivated his forced smile. It was the fact that he had to deliver bad news.

McKenzie stepped out of line and headed my way. Another bad sign. Last time he hadn’t approached me. But this time I was alone. He didn’t have to wait until tomorrow to deliver the bad news.

“How are you?” he said.

“Good. Ready for the semester.”
Unless you’re going to fire me.

“I’m glad I ran into you. I was going to set up a meeting, but this is much more convenient.”

I braced myself.

“Next year the University is launching an Interdisciplinary Initiative,” he said, “and the Governing Board wants our department heavily involved.”

I nodded, as if I were interested in the Interdisciplinary Initiative, when in reality I was just waiting for him to lower the boom.

“I’d like you to join our meetings with the Physics and Biology Departments,” he said.

A huge grin took over my face, and I quickly dialed it down, so it looked more like the reaction of a professional, pleased with a career opportunity, rather than a kid, pleased with a surprise birthday gift.

“We want to develop more interdisciplinary courses with those departments, and that seems like it might be something right up your alley.”

“It is, and I’d love to do it.”

“Good. I’ll have the Assistant Director email you the information. Good luck with your classes.” And with that, he was on his way back to stand in line.

“Thanks,” I said, but he didn’t turn around.

The barista called out my name, and I grabbed my coffee and headed out.

*

As I walked across campus to my next stop, the Iliad, I thought about the Initiative. Had the other history wiped it out? Was that why McKenzie had fired me? He’d looked over the instructors for this semester and thought,
Why did I hire this guy again?

But with the Initiative alive and well, I was a good fit. With my appointment, McKenzie could keep Alex, his star professor, happy, and he’d found an adjunct well versed in the history of science. An adjunct who’d be willing to devote a lot of time to working on this Initiative.

Now it was up to me to deliver.

I walked into the Iliad and saw Laura behind the counter, immersed in a book. Her short red hair swung down over one of her cheeks, but even with her face partially hidden, her beauty captivated me, as it had the first time I saw her.

“Hi,” I said.

Her hazel eyes took me in. I was a stranger, but I wondered if she could sense that this stranger already loved her. “Do I know you?” she said.

That was a shock. She
did
sense something. “I don’t think so,” I said, hating that I had to start off with a lie. “Wait—we must’ve met in one of those multi-universes that I’m always reading about.”

She smiled. “That’s right. Thanks for reminding me.” She closed her book. “What can I help you with?”

“I’d like to pick up my class handouts.”

“Which class?”

“5055.”

Her jaw didn’t tighten in anger. This time around, she was able to hide her resentment. “So you’re the lucky winner,” she said, still choosing the same words, but saying them without hostility.