Fire, The (46 page)

The therapist sighed and shook his head. He repeated the gestures several times over the next forty minutes as the two endured yet another pointless exchange.

Kevin couldn't blame Abernathy for failing him. He didn't have the facts. He didn't have the slightest understanding of what he was going through. On the advice of his mother, who did have the facts, Kevin had told the counselor that he had recently lost his college sweetheart – not his time-traveling fiancée, the one born in Grover Cleveland's first term, but "Sarah," the sorority girl he had dated at the university in Seattle for three years.

Telling his family about Sarah and his four trips to 1910 had been difficult enough. He had approached his mother first. He had figured that if she believed that her older self had traveled in time thirty-one years to 1979, then she might believe that her son had traveled 103 years to 1910. He had bolstered his case with the photos of Sarah and the copy of
Little Women
. A classic valued at twenty-five grand was not something he could pick up in a Wallace bookstore.

Once he'd convinced his mother, he'd had little difficulty swaying his father and sister. Rena, in fact, had been so moved by his stories of love, learning, and destruction that she had offered to interview him for her school's newspaper. Kevin had politely declined.

Kevin had
not
declined Rena's request to see Asa Johnson's diary, diamonds, and gold. He had turned over the balance of great-great-granddad's treasure to his parents and sister hours after they had returned from Spokane but not before he had tried one more time to return to the past.

After searching his soul for hours, Kevin had decided that he wouldn't be able to rest until he had at least tried to reset history and bring Sarah back like he had planned. So he had returned to the chamber and arranged his coins in an MCMIX.

He had figured that by returning to 1909, he would be able to meet Sarah when she arrived on the train, court her throughout the school year, and hopefully win her over before the first wildfire blackened northern Idaho. He hadn't figured on failing, at least not for a reason that had become apparent after he had returned to Oregon.

When Kevin had tried to access the portal that last time, he hadn't used "godless gold," the Liberty Head double eagles minted between 1849 and 1866 without the motto "In God We Trust." He had instead used the only coins left to him, coins that bore the motto and therefore had no value to a time traveler. When James May had advised Asa Johnson to use "godless gold," he hadn't been bashing the love of money. He'd been providing literal instructions.

Kevin knew he still had the ability to go back, even now, two months after leaving Wallace and three weeks after a San Francisco couple had bought Grandpa Roger's property. He knew he had enough in his savings account alone to buy two-dozen mid-century double eagles from coin shops and give the chamber of stones one more spin. What he didn't know is whether one more spin would be worth it.

Even if he were able to return to 1909 or 1910 and again fill the teaching vacancy left by Lawrence Monroe, he would never be able to recapture the magic of the first few encounters with Sarah. He would never be able to recreate the walks or dates or even the tension with Sadie that had made the spring and summer so memorable and exciting. He would have to meet and court a new Sarah Thompson, knowing that the outcome might be much different.

Maybe it
was
time, he thought, to let her go. He had no right to alter the past or mess with another life simply because he was lonely. He had a moral obligation to live in his time, even if it meant passing up a chance to find the happiness he so desperately wanted.

Kevin thought about his obligations as Abernathy talked endlessly about the five stages of grief and the need for patients to take responsibility for their own mental health and welfare. He didn't know what he would do in the next few years or even the next few weeks, but he did know one thing: he'd had enough of the psychobabble.

"Kevin? Are you listening?"

"I'm listening."

"Something tells me that your mind is elsewhere," Abernathy said.

"Trust me, Doc. It is."

The therapist sighed and shook his head, right on schedule. This time, however, he didn't proceed to a new round of idiotic questions. He instead put his notepad on his desk and moved his chair closer to Kevin's.

"This may be our last session before you leave for school, so let's try something different," Abernathy said. "Let's focus on someone other than Sarah."

"I already told you my mother's not to blame."

The counselor smiled.

"I'm not talking about your mother. I'm talking about someone you may not have even met."

Kevin sat up in his chair. The counselor had his attention.

"You're twenty-two now, correct?" Abernathy asked.

"Correct."

"I assume that you don't want to remain miserable for another fifty years."

"You're good."

"I assume also that you'd eventually like to date another woman, fall in love, get married, and perhaps start a family. Am I right?"

"You're earning your pay today. What are you getting at?"

"What I'm getting at, Kevin, is simple. I want you to describe that woman."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me what she's like. Describe her in detail. Tell me everything."

"Why does it matter? I'm not looking for a hypothetical woman."

"No, you're not. You're looking for a real person who fits a description, a person who might someday walk into your life. Describe her."

"OK. If you must know, I'll tell you. The woman I'd like to meet someday would be a hell of a lot like the one that just died on me. She'd be smart, kind, pretty, and have a personality that could light up a stadium. She'd also be affectionate and patient, the kind of woman who'd make a great mother. That's important. I want a woman who wants kids and likes kids. If you know someone like that in this area code, feel free to give me her number."

Abernathy smiled.

"What?" Kevin asked.

"I think we just made some progress."

CHAPTER 78: KEVIN

Kevin shook his head as he entered his childhood home near the top of Unionville's North Hill. If progress in grief counseling now meant getting your patients to describe the woman of their dreams, then he was most certainly in the wrong business.

He waved weakly to his mother and sister in the living room and then did a beeline for the basement family room, which served as his man cave. With shag carpet and lime green walls, it wasn't the most attractive room on the planet, but it was big, functional, and quiet. When he wanted to escape from the world, he knew where to go.

Kevin sat down on an old couch and stared at a 52-inch flat-screen television, the one thing in the room that couldn't be found on
That '70s Show
. When he finally convinced himself that watching a documentary on wombats beat staring at a blank screen and thinking about the girl he had left behind, he reached for the remote. He got halfway to the end table when he heard a familiar voice.

"How did your session go, honey?" Shelly Johnson said as she entered the forbidden lair.

"It went the same as last week and the week before and the week before that," Kevin replied. "Dr. Abernathy has earned his Masters in redundancy. Don't make me go again."

Shelly sat down next to her son.

"I won't. If you're not getting anything out of it, then there's no point in going."

"You've got that right. Do you know what he had me do today?"

"No. What?"

"He had me describe the perfect woman – not a supermodel or an SEC cheerleader or something like that but rather the woman I want to marry someday. He charges a hundred bucks an hour for that."

"What did you do?"

"I indulged him for once. I answered his question."

"What did you say? What kind of woman
do
you want?"

"Well, Mom, I think that's pretty obvious. I want someone like Sarah. I want someone who's beautiful inside and out, just like every other freaking male on the planet. The problem is that that kind of woman is hard to find and usually out of my league in any case."

"Are you sure about that?"

Kevin looked at his mother like she had just dropped in from another solar system. Did she even know her son, the one who had been striking out with attractive girls his entire life?

"Yeah, I'm sure about that."

"That's a very pessimistic attitude, Kevin."

"Well, I think it's pretty justified, don't you?"

Shelly put a hand on his knee and stared at him softly.

"No. I don't."

"Why not? You know my track record."

"I also know that there's someone out there for everyone."

"That's clichéd crap and you know it."

"I know nothing of the sort."

"I'm sorry, Mom, but I can't have this conversation now. Contrary to what you and the shrink seem to think, I'm still hurting."

"Of course you're hurting. You'll probably hurt for some time, but you'll get through this."

"I'll get through this? I'll get through this? Are you kidding? I just lost the perfect woman. I watched her die slowly and painfully. I watched the life go out of her eyes while I sat next to her doing nothing. You don't forget things like that."

"I know you don't, Kevin, but you will move on. You will find someone just as special. I know it."

"I appreciate the pep talk, Mom, but it's pretty clear you don't get it. I had my shot at love and lost it. I lost it big time. I will
never
find love like that again."

Kevin grimaced as moisture formed in his eyes. He knew his mother meant well, but he also knew she was wrong. He would never again find someone like Sarah. When the tears started to flow, he turned away.

Shelly slid closer to her son and kissed him on the head.

"Never say 'never,' honey," she said in a soft voice. "Never is an awfully long time."

Kevin watched her get up from the sofa, walk across the room, and start up the stairs. He felt bad about snapping at his biggest supporter but couldn't bring himself to apologize just yet. She had reopened a nasty wound and put him in a particularly foul mood.

He wiped away the tears with his forearm, looked at the TV screen, and saw his reflection. What a mess he was. He was glad his college friends couldn't see him now. When he saw a box of tissues on the mantle above the television, he decided to get off the couch and dry his face. He didn't take even two steps before he heard a voice from the past.

"Kevin?"

He closed his eyes.
It can't be
.

"Your mom said I could see you now."

Kevin turned around and saw a sight that he would remember the rest of his life. Sadie stood at the foot of the stairs, not in a maid uniform or a gown that flowed past her ankles but rather in a skimpy pink tennis dress that had Rena's stamp all over it.

Her hair too was different. Though it still fell well past her shoulders, it had been cut, curled, and braided, most likely in the past hour. It perfectly complemented a wonderfully made-up face and liquid brown eyes that needed no enhancement.

Irene Johnson grinned like a Cheshire cat in the shadows behind Sadie when Kevin looked her way. Little sister had had a busy afternoon. She disappeared up the stairs with her smiling mother when Kevin returned his attention to the main attraction.

"Sadie?"

"It's me."

The simple confirmation was all Kevin needed to move toward the stairs. He rushed forward and met Sadie halfway with a powerful embrace that practically knocked her off her feet. For more than a minute he smothered her with hugs and kisses, including numbers 107, 108, and 109 on the hit parade. Just the sight and smell of her sent his anger, frustration, and scorching grief into permanent retreat.

When he finally let up and allowed her to breathe, he looked at her face and saw that she too had dissolved into tears. For a moment, he set aside his troubles and wallowed in pure joy.

"How? How?" he asked as he shook his head.

"I was in the house – just outside your bedroom door – when you proposed to Sarah. I heard everything. I heard every word. Then I read Mr. Johnson's diary. I knew it wasn't right to pry, but I was sad and confused. I needed some answers and thought I could find them there."

Sadie looked at him with eyes that betrayed love, awe, and even fear.

"I'm so sorry about Sarah. I cried for a week when I heard about her. I feel guilty for even being here, but I couldn't stay away. I couldn't. I love you so much."

Kevin smiled, hugged her again, and buried his face in her hair. He realized now that her answers didn't matter. He didn't care about how, where, why, or when. He cared only about who he held in his arms.

CHAPTER 79: KEVIN

Joseph, Oregon – Sunday, August 25, 2013

The vacation house Lloyd Johnson had built in 1960 and son Roger had expanded two decades later overlooked one of the grandest vistas in the Pacific Northwest. From the cedar deck alone, one could see not only Wallowa Lake and pristine forests but also many of the mountains that made up America's Little Switzerland.

When Kevin carried two mugs of coffee from the kitchen to the sliding door, however, he cared only about the view from the glass. Sadie Hawkins, gazing reflectively over the deck's railing in a white terry-cloth bathrobe, had never looked more beautiful.

"I hope you still like plain coffee," he said as he opened the door and stepped onto the deck.

"Is there any other kind?"

Kevin laughed.

"Oh, Sadie, we
do
have a lot to talk about. Let's sit."

When she sat on one side of a small table near a corner of the deck, Kevin gave Sadie her coffee and settled in on the other side. He tightened the belt of his own bathrobe and took his first sip of a hot drink that brought welcome warmth on a sunny but chilly summer morning.

"Did you know that Chief Joseph was born in this valley?"