Unhappenings (47 page)

My conversation with Carlton West was nowhere near as monumental or even interesting as I expected. We began with small talk, and shortly moved on to the topic of Helen’s happiness. For a moment, I thought he was going to declare his intent to win her back, but that never manifested. At one point, he did make the moderately threatening statement that if he ever heard I had been unkind to her, I would have to deal with him, to which I made an unfunny and severely ill-advised joke.

“Or I’ll end up in a ditch somewhere?” He did not laugh. I could feel myself perspiring.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, Mr. Walden, but I’m really not like that at all.”

Eight hundred and twenty million people might soon disagree. I had to keep reminding myself that this man was not yet that monster. He had been turned aside once before, by the love of an amazing woman. That woman was soon to marry me, but there might be some other means to keep him in check. I could force myself to believe that.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You don’t look well.”

In truth, there was a very real possibility that I was about to throw up. Between the stress of having this man in my home, and the visions of his future atrocities dancing before my eyes, my stomach had gone rogue.

“I just need to powder my nose,” I said, to additional absence of laughter. I excused myself, and spent five minutes in the bathroom alternating between splashing water on my face (which looked quite green to me in the mirror) and hyperventilating. Once I had more or less pulled myself together, I emerged to find him on my screened-in porch, admiring the view.

“I’m afraid it may have been a mistake coming here,” he said. “I’m really not even sure what I was trying to accomplish. Things between Helen and me ended very badly, and I thought perhaps we could find a way to part on a better note. But I’m afraid I have only embarrassed myself, and made things worse. I do apologize for that.” He shook my hand, and walked with me to the door. “Please give Helen my warm regards.” With that, he left.

But by then, the damage was done.

he social call had been a ruse, of course. The second Carlton found out about me, he began an investigation into who I was. Given the resources at his disposal, it took him a matter of days to determine I did not exist, and a matter of weeks to deduce my true identity. His claim that Helen had used the name Nigel was bait. In fact, she had not given him my name at all.

As I said, Carlton West commanded resources I would barely have understood, even if I had been aware they existed. This is what I tell myself to deflect responsibility for what happened. I allowed him entry to my home, based in part on a reaction to a threat he made that was pure bluff. I allowed him to agitate me to the point of physical illness from the stress.

The five minutes I spent in the bathroom gave Carlton West about four minutes of unfettered access to my lab, my materials, and all my data. For a man with the right equipment and training, that would have been about two minutes more time than he would need.

Virtually every aspect of the debacle to come was proving to be my fault. Thanks to me, Carlton now had everything he needed to construct his own time machine.

t was some time before we figured out what Carlton had been doing in my home. Helen’s response to the fact of his visit was severe discomfort, and gratitude that he had not tried to connect with her at the library. While we were still recovering from that, Athena arrived.

“He wants a meeting,” was all she said. It took me a moment to process.

“Carlton?”

Helen flinched. Athena nodded.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “He was just here.”

“He was here eighteen years ago,” said Athena. “A lot of water under the bridge for him. He wants a truce, at least long enough for you to hear him out.”

I looked to Helen for guidance. Her expression was unreadable, and she would not make eye contact.

“He came to you with this?” I asked Athena.

“Yup,” she said.

“Do you trust him?”

“Nope.”

I took Helen’s hand. It was cold, and limp.

“Helen,” I said softly, “this might be our chance to reason with him. If he wants to hurt me, he will do it whether I meet with him or not. If he wants to talk, we should talk.” I let that sit for a bit, waiting for her to find a response.

Just as I was about to say I would do whatever she wanted me to do, she asked, “Where?”

“He didn’t say,” said Athena. “I assume he’ll leave that up to you.” She directed that last part at me, but Helen answered.

“Here, then,” she said. “Right here. This room. Right now.”

Athena hesitated. “He wants to meet with Nigel,” she said.

“Nigel can be here if he wants,” said Helen.

“Mom…”

Helen stood, and looked at my daughter and me with eyes of cold stone.

“No. This isn’t about Nigel. It’s about me. It’s always been about me, and if the two of you are going to traipse through time fighting over me, you can damn well fight over me in this room, with me at the table.”

“You’re sure you want this?” I asked.

“Nigel, you were in prison!” said Helen. “You were in prison and I didn’t even know! We are way past the point of worrying about what I want.” She looked away, and then stared at the floor. When she did finally look up, her eyes were stark and welling with moisture.

“You don’t know him,” she said quietly. “You don’t understand what he’s like when he’s obsessed. We have to stop this before it goes any further, and I’m the one who knows which buttons to push.” A single tear collected enough mass to break free and roll down her cheek. To me, it looked like a tear of defiance.

“Go get him,” I said.

Athena looked at Helen, waited for the nod, and flashed out.

t was two hours before Athena returned. Helen and I spent those two hours in near silence. I made her a cup of tea, which she gratefully accepted. I offered her bold but vague reassurances of protection, which were less well received. Finally, Athena returned, tandem jumping in with our guest.