In Times Like These (36 page)

“Except for poor Pokey.” Mym frowns.

Cowboy Bob gives her an exasperated smile. “Yes.” He looks back to us. “One bird didn’t make it. He got fused into the fabric of the balloon up top.”

“With just his little head poking out,” Mym adds, pouting her lower lip.

“Yeah. And it was sad, I’ll give you that, but it could have been worse. I don’t think it was a bad way to go.”

“He had his poor head stuck in a hot air balloon! What’s worse than that?” Mym chides.

“Well, he could have ended up in the burner, or the gondola, or us. At least he still had a nice view at the end.”

Mym shakes her head. “I think you still owe him a better apology.”

“I’m not apologizing to the dead bird. Again.”

Mym
tries to maintain her frown. “He wouldn’t even say anything at his funeral . . .”

“So enough about the darn bird,” Cowboy Bob says. “Where are you all from? Other than my barn.”

“We’re from 2009,” Blake says.

“Florida,” Francesca adds.

“Oh!” Mym says. “Saint Petersburg?”

“Yes,” Francesca replies.

“What brings you out here?” Cowboy Bob nods toward the road.

“My Dad probably sent them,” Mym says.
“You know my Dad?”

“We do actually,” I say. “But he didn’t send us. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Would it be a better, long, inside story?” Cowboy Bob asks. “We could get out of this field if you like.”

“Yeah, I think something just tried to crawl up my leg,” Francesca says.

“I’ll show you the house.” Bob guides us to a paddock gate that he unlatches and swings open for us. The horse whickers as we pass and plods over to Cowboy Bob as he closes the latch. He gives the mare’s face a quick rub and then leads the way across the barnyard toward the house.

Unlike the last time I saw it, the house looks open and inviting. The curtains have all been drawn back and most of the windows are up
. The front door is open also, with just a screen door for keeping the occasional bug out. As we climb the porch steps, I hear a clatter of dishes from inside and realize someone else is home. Bob stops to take off his boots by the front door. Mym leaves hers there too; only then does she notice that Blake and I are barefoot. Blake is holding the flip-flop I lent him.

“You guys were prepared for this
, huh?”

I scratch behind my neck. “Yeah, we’ve been having a few clothing and footwear mishaps.”
I set my backpack down just inside the door.

The front doorway leads into a spacious living room full of natural light that allows a great view of the ranch. It’s decorated in a western style with leather furniture and a massive stone hearth. Much of the light is streaming in from above
, where the high, wood-beamed ceiling has allowed room for extra windows. We pass under a loft balcony through a hallway lined with framed black and white photos. Among scenes of cattle branding and hay baling, I notice a photo of a younger Cowboy Bob cradling a baby goat. The photo looks old but it’s hard to tell.

We pass into a d
ining area that’s likewise well lit with sun. The rough-hewn table would seat a dozen people. The room adjoins the kitchen, and as we round the corner, a woman appears. Stout, gray-haired and perhaps sixty-five, she brushes her hands off on an apron as she turns to greet us.

“Not leaving
yet after all, Mrs. A,” Cowboy Bob says.

“Oh, you brought me some more visitors!”
The woman smiles.

“Yes
, these are . . .” He turns to us.

“I’m Blake.” Blake is closest and extends a hand.

“Francesca.”

“I’m Benjamin.”

“How do you do. I’m Connie,” the woman replies. The edges of her green eyes have a lot of smile lines. “Are these friends of yours?” she asks Mym.

“Um. Possibly.” Mym smiles. Her eyes find mine. “Hard to tell what
people are right at first sometimes.”

“You all lead the most interesting lives,” Connie says. “I don’t know how you keep anything straight.” She turns back to us. “Are you all time travelers too?”

I nod.

“We try not to be,” Blake says.

“I’ll tell you, things just keep getting more fun around here. The ladies in my quilting circle never believe a word I say about this job. I’m sure they all think I’ve gone senile. When did you all get here? Are you hungry?”

“Um. Yeah, we just got in. I don’t want to impose or anything, but I could eat,” I say.

Francesca and Blake murmur agreement.

“Okay. I’ll fix you something up.”

“Mrs. A makes an outstanding lasagna,” Mym says. “I feel like I gain about ten pounds every time I visit.”

“Why don’t you all go sit on the back deck. It’s so lovely out. I’ll bring you out some iced tea.”

“Yes ma’am,” Cowboy Bob replies, and opens the screen door off the kitchen. The back deck is shaded by a tall, flowering tree. Its thin leaves are silver and it’s covered with white blooms.

We gather around a picnic table. Francesca squeezes in between Blake and me on one side
, while Cowboy Bob and Mym take the other.

“I really like your house,” Francesca says.

“Thank you,” Bob replies.

“What kind of tree is that?” Blake asks.

“That’s a Russian Olive,” Bob says. “My dad planted that years and years ago.”

“I noticed there aren’t many trees out here,” I say.

“Yeah, if you want a tree, you pretty much have to plant it yourself or truck one in. Nothing much grows out here naturally. Scrub brush and grass. We have plenty of that.”

“It’s beautiful here though,” Francesca says. “Now that it’s not freezing.”

“Ah that’s right, you were here in the winter,” Bob says.

“Yeah. We came from December of
’86.” I brush a leaf off the table.

“Man, i
t wasn’t too fun around here then. What made you decide to visit in December?”

“We were actually looking for Mym,” I say. “We didn’t know how else to find her.” I pull the photo of the toolbox out of my back pocket and lay it in front of her.

“I just took that,” Mym says. “I haven’t even printed it yet. Where did you find it?”

“I got it out of your dad’s lab in 1986.”

“Oh. I should probably make a note of that.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a device.

“Is that an iPhone?” Francesca asks.

“Um. No. Not exactly. It does look like one though,” Mym says. “It’s a multi function device for time traveling stuff. They just call them MFD’s. I brought it back from the future and one of dad’s friends helped customize it for me. It’s pretty handy.” She taps the screen a few times, takes a scan of the back and front of my picture, then slides the MFD back into her pocket. She pushes the photo toward me. “You probably want to get rid of that.”

“Okay.”

“So what is dad up to in 1986? Anything exciting I should know about?”

I look at Francesca and Blake.

“Do we tell her?” Francesca says.

“We’re still pretty new at this,” I say. “We don’t really know much about what you should and shouldn’t know about the future or past. Do you want to know what happens then?”

Mym considers me. “This was two and a half years ago, right?”

“No. We actually came from January of
’86 originally; at least that’s where your dad was anyway. So that’s more like three and a half. He was helping us get home.”

“What happened? It’s okay. You can tell me. The universe isn’t going to explode or anything.”

Connie appears with pitchers of lemonade and iced tea and some glasses. We make room to help her navigate the tray onto the table. I give Bob and Mym an abbreviated account of our experiences in 1986. As I reach the part about meeting Stenger with Carson in the lab, Connie returns, the tray now loaded with tuna melt sandwiches. I take one eagerly.

“So where was Dad in this situation?” Mym asks between bites.

“That’s the thing. We really don’t know. You and he just sort of left, I guess.”

“He left you the journal though,” Francesca says. “Show her.”

I reach into my back pocket and pull out Dr. Quickly’s journal. Mym stops chewing when I lay it on the table. She swallows and sets her sandwich down. She traces the front cover of the book with her fingertips, but doesn’t open it.

“Wow. I’ve never known him to even show that to anyone other than me before, let alone give it to someone.”

Bob has been listening quietly until this point, but now leans in. “This Stenger person. What happened to him?”

“I don’t really know,” I say.

Blake interjects. “We had our friend Robbie tip off the cops about him. So we’re hoping they picked him up eventually.”

“That doesn’t seem very conclusive, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Bob replies.

“We aren’t the cops,” Blake says. “I’m not really sure what else we could do.”

Bob’s eyes linger on the chronometer on my wrist for a moment, but then he picks up his plate and stands up. “Yes. I suppose not.” He opens the screen door and goes back into the kitchen.

“We really are just trying to get back to 2009,” Francesca says. “That’s been our goal this entire time. We could really use some help though.”

“Things haven’t been going great,” I add.

Mym chews another bite of tuna melt and then replies, “I’m sure Cowboy Bob can help you out without too much trouble. We were just going to take a quick blink up to 1993 and back today, but we could probably talk him into going farther if you want. He’s kind of a push-over if you ask nice enough.”

“That balloon of his will go that far?” Blake says.

“Oh definitely, that is one of the best distance time machines ever. Not a lot of people know about it because he’s pretty private, but other than some of the transverse wormhole gates they come up with later, his is the best. The gates are always fixed points too, so even though they can travel farther, the fact that his balloon is portable and actually flies makes it way more versatile.”

“What’s the farthest you’ve been?” Blake says.

“With Cowboy Bob? Or in general?”

“Either I guess.”

“Dad took us all the way back to the 1860s when I was a kid. He said it was part of my history lessons. We were in the crowd when Lincoln gave the Gettysburg Address.”

“Wow,” I say. “That’s awesome.”

“Were you tempted to go find John Wilkes Booth and kick his ass?” Francesca says.

“No. I was only thirteen then, and dad was doing one of his ‘paradox free’ trips. He tries not to mess with historical events at all. He was really intent on my
education being thorough. It was mostly pretty great. I had a hard time when I was young though, because my parents put me in regular school sometimes, so that I could have that experience. I never got along very well with any of my history teachers. We argued a lot.”

“I guess they don’t get a lot of grade schoolers with firsthand knowledge of history,” I say.

“You’d be surprised how wrong textbooks can be too. I’ve realized that people are happier thinking what they know is true. Telling them the actual truth doesn’t always improve things.”

Cowboy Bob returns with Connie and she snatches up our plates of crumbs. I notice he has his boots back on. “We can help you with the dishes,” Francesca offers.

“Nonsense, honey,” Connie replies. “You just sit and visit. I know you all didn’t come all this way to scrub pots and pans.”

Bob stays standing at the end of the table. “So what’s the plan?”

“They need to go to 2009,” Mym says.

Bob considers us. “You need to get there right now?”

“Is that an option?” Blake asks.

“Well,
I was going to make some other stops. I could get us most of the way today, if you like. I’ll probably need to stop and recharge the batteries somewhere. I could probably get you there by tomorrow though.”

“Really?” Francesca says.

“That would be amazing!” Blake’s hands go to his head. “I can’t believe it. Thank you!”

“That’
s awesome,” I say.

“We should take them to the meteor shower,” Mym adds.

“Yeah, we could do that.” Bob nods. “Which ones have I already taken you to?”

“We did a couple Leonids, and we did Haley’s Comet.”

“Okay. We could hit another Leonids on the way. They’re always good.”

Mym turns back to us. “The meteor showers at night here are amazing. The sky is so huge and dark. I like to watch the Space Shuttle go by a lot when I’m here. You can see it pretty easily on a clear night.”

“That’s really cool,” I say.

“When do you want to go?” Bob asks us.

I glance at the others. “Um. Whenever, I guess.”

“Al
l right. I’ll tell you what. After lunch we’ll do a big move to maybe the late nineties or early two thousands, since the balloon is already set up. Then we can stop and relax. I’ll charge the batteries overnight, and we can go the rest of the way in the morning.”