Remember Me (55 page)

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Epilog

September 18, 2014

Amy and I
were both nervous and excited. Her kids and my kids too, were just plain antsy and chatting nonstop. We were all being flown out to Hollywood, first class. A small production company had bought the movie rights to “Remember

Me,” and they wanted us to see the first screening of the script.

Warner Brother’s had signed on to be the big producer behind the scenes. Chad Draper was the mastermind behind “Mind’s Eye” productions. His company was the one who bought the movie rights. I spoke to him several times over the phone, but had never met him personally. Olivia would also be there. We had spoken infrequently over the past few years. I respected her need to move forward. She did come and see us after she read the completed novel. Her hug was the only answer I

needed. In it I knew that I had gained her approval.

The kids, young and older alike, were excited to be a part of the big time. “Remember Me” had climbed all the way to number six on the best seller list. With the talk of a movie it had picked up again and was still going strong in sales. I was already hard at work on my third novel. My second one debuted at number fifteen and had been steadily climbing. I converted one of the bedrooms on the main floor of our house into my “author’s studio.” On the shelf behind me, I placed the old manual typewriter my girls had given me for my fiftieth birthday. Whenever I struggled with my words, I would touch its keys and remember the day the girls had given it to me.

Life was good, and Amy and I had finally come to terms

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with our heritage. We became closer, if it was even possible.

We loved more easily, forgave more quickly, and never forgot to say a prayer for Olivia and Andrew. When we landed in California, a huge white limousine picked us up at the airport and delivered us to our hotel. The driver informed us that he would return at precisely seven p.m. to pick us up and transport us to the theater. This wasn’t a formal premier or even close to a red-carpet-type event. The cast and production company from the movie would be there to watch it as well.

It was an opportunity for the editing department to gauge our opinions of the movie. They also wanted to see if we agreed on the book’s adaptation to the big screen. The official release date for the movie had not yet been set. It would probably undergo several more changes before then.

We were swarmed by reporters when the doors to the

limousine were opened. I was smiling from ear to ear. I don’t even recall what I was answering to their barrage of questions.

I’m sure it would come back to haunt me tomorrow. I used to laugh at the celebrity goofs that made headlines, now I might end up as one. Introductions were made; I shook hands with the actor playing the lead role in the movie. I only wished I looked as good as he did. Amy felt the same way about the actress who portrayed her. The kids raced to get both of their autographs. Olivia was here too, and she looked stunning.

Many of the reporters abandoned us to go and speak with her.

At eight p.m. sharp the inner doors to the theater opened and we were escorted in and to our seats.

The movie ran nearly two hours, and I was mesmerized

the entire time. Many times I would hear Amy sniff and wipe at the tears. She wasn’t alone. When it was over, I couldn’t think of one thing that I would have changed. The musical score was dramatic and the ending perfect. It was almost as if the director had lived through it too. As the lights came up, everyone S 426 S

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stood up and applauded. Chad, the producer walked up the stairs to stand on the stage. He asked a few questions and took comments from staff, guests, and actors alike. His assistant took notes. They talked about technical rewrites and possible schedules for reshooting certain scenes.

Out of the blue, Emily leaned over and whispered in my

ear, “Dad, did you notice how much the director looks like you?”I hadn’t taken the time to really study him, but after she said it I could see the resemblance. He was slightly younger than me and much more fit, but his face was eerily similar.

After the talk was finished, he came down the steps and everyone exited after him to the lobby where refreshments were being provided. Amy and I both watched as he walked directly over to Olivia. They embraced tenderly, like two very close friends. They held on to each other for an especially long moment. When they pulled apart they smiled at each other and she lifted her hand to caress his face. Amy turned to face me and said, “You don’t think…”

She never finished her thought. Chad and Olivia had made their way together towards us. When he got close to me he stuck out his hand, and I grasped it tightly. Still holding his hand, I threw my other arm around him and pulled him to

me in an emotional embrace. “Hello Carter,” I said to him. He responded with, “Hi Dad,” as he hugged me back.

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Amy’s Story

Amy walked slowly
across the freshly mowed grass. Today was May twenty-third, two thousand and ten. For the last twenty-five years she’d gone by the name Olivia Jane Harris.

Yesterday, she had stopped the Andrew of this time from entering the wormhole, thus closing the cycle forever. She didn’t know if there were other wormholes, or would be, or if this had been truly a freak occurrence. She was just glad it was over.

Her shoes sunk into the earth as she walked. The rain from yesterday gave the air a crisp-clean scent. It might only have been her imagination, but she didn’t think so. God, she was tired. She was staying at the Day’s Inn were she had rented a room. After she finished what she came here to do, she was going to take advantage of the whirlpool and sauna back at the motel. To get here, Olivia had driven fifteen miles east and south of Cedar Falls. The first ten plus miles had been blacktop, and then she followed a country road for nearly three miles, until she arrived at this destination. She had been happy to see that the grass had been freshly mowed. The wrought-iron sign over the entrance gates announced the little plot of land as, “Stillmore Cemetery.” In the past she had always chuckled at the name. Today it brought only more tiredness. The inside joke for her was finally over. There was nothing more she still needed to do.

Over the years, she’d been a regular visitor to the little cemetery. It housed less than fifty residents. She made her way S 428 S

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between two of the graves, careful not to step on either one.

She stopped by one of the larger headstones. She had begun to cry, even though she promised herself that she wouldn’t. She laid the bouquet of flowers she’d been carrying, gently on the ground at the base of the tombstone. Through her blurred vision she read the inscription on the headstone. “Peter Warren.

Born January 15, 1935, Died May 22, 1985. There was nothing else inscribed on it, not yet. When she came next year, it would have a new headstone. On that headstone she would

have the words, “He lived his life to always remember.” It would be enough that she knew what it meant and who was

really buried here. Only one other person had ever come to visit the gravesite, and that was Carter. For twenty-five years they kept the secret of who was really buried in the small cemetery. The name might be engraved as “Peter Warren,” but the body was that of Andrew Johnson. Amy wasn’t sure anyone

would be able to understand how he’d come to be here…she had problems with it herself.

Amy unfolded the small plastic tablecloth that she had

brought with her. She stretched out in front of the grave and kneeled down on it. She wiped the tears away from her eyes, for now, they had stopped. It wouldn’t take much for her to completely lose her composure. It was different today, harder for some reason. For the first time in fifty years, the world had moved on. That was counting Andrew’s first trip back in time, and then her and Carter’s trip, too. Maybe hard wasn’t the right expression. She wasn’t glad, nor was she sad. There weren’t any fireworks to acknowledge all that she had managed to do.

She had reasons, plenty of them, to be proud of what she had accomplished. Her foundation had benefited needy children all over the world. Still, she missed never having children of her own. There had been a time when she might have blamed Andrew, but it was never his fault, not really. She understood S 429 S

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his heart and his intentions.

The tears began to fall again, and she was helpless to stop them. She let them ravage her body. It was time to let them all out, once and for all. She lost track of her surroundings in her grief. A hand gently rested on her shoulder. She was extremely grateful that Carter had been in town and could come here with her. Where else would he be, especially yesterday.

He had made a place in this world for himself. But like her, he never forgot where he came from. The event that had given him life would have ended it too. Stacy had known that. She couldn’t let it happen. Andrew might have grieved for the loss of Emily, but it was Carter who had touched Stacy’s heart.

Amy remembered back to what had happened on that day of

the wormhole. Not the one yesterday, but the one twenty-five years ago—yesterday. She’d been so scared. Some of it had been because of the deception she’d been a part of. She and Stacy, along with Carter had planned out their own agenda that day. It hurt then, and it hurt now, to have plotted behind Andrew’s back. Even though what they were doing was for

the best, and as far as they were concerned, it had to be done.

She believed that Andrew would have agreed…given time.

It still etched a permanent place on her heart—and not in a good way. She’d come to love the time-traveling Andrew.

She understood him a lot better now, especially after the last twenty-five years.

On the day of this current Andrew and Amy’s wedding,

she’d been sitting on the groom’s side, near the back. She saw the love in their eyes. She knew the feeling, and she knew the feeling of loss. She’d tried to be strong, but loneliness is a mean monster. There wasn’t much satisfaction in watching others in love. She reached up with her right hand and grasped Carter’s hand on her shoulder. The two of them had been together for a long time. She became like a mother to him. And to her, he S 430 S

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had been the only close friend she ever had. Carter broke-down the day that she and Stacy had shared their story with him and what his possible fate might be. He was full of love, just like his father. It might have been the movie producer in him. If anyone could grasp the story and see it in its entirety, he could. He didn’t hesitate at all when Stacy told him what she had in mind. He asked the questions that needed asking, and he accepted the answers.

When Amy stood at the cusp of the wormhole, she’d seen

the look on Andrew’s face when she told him that she loved him and she’d make it right. He didn’t understand. It was at that moment that she fully understood just how much he loved her. It was in his eyes. She saw Carter rise up from his hiding spot behind a large oak tree. He walked over and put his hand on Andrew’s shoulder, much like he was doing now to hers.

His face was so much like his father’s. On that day, his eyes shone with a determination that Andrew was no match for.

Andrew reluctantly gave up his backpack, and his life. She had to let the wormhole take her, rather than take another look into Andrew’s eyes. Their lives together were over, and she couldn’t bear to see its effect in his eyes. Like Andrew, she had come to believe that there was only one true time, not multi-universes or parallel dimensions. The wormhole pulled her in, and then there was only blackness.

Amy didn’t remember much after she entered the wormhole. There was a “pulling apart” sensation. It was a similar feeling to when your feet are stuck in mud and someone is holding on to your hands and trying to pull you out. When she let out her breath there was no air to breathe back in. She only had a split-second to panic before she lost consciousness.

On the other side of the wormhole, it took Amy several

minutes before she could sit up on the ground. Her head felt like it had been put in a vice. The vice had been tightened just S 431 S

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short of crushing her skull. The world around her continued to spin, causing her to throw-up several times. She had no idea how long she had lain on the ground unconscious. The sun was still shinning, and the warmth felt good on her face. Her thoughts came crashing back to her and she looked around the tall, weedy grass for signs of Carter. She tried to rise to her knees and instantly had to vomit. She kept her eyes closed and crawled on her hands and knees. Her outstretched hand encountered the canvas material of a backpack. She opened her eyes and saw that it was Andrew’s and not hers. Her eyes were beginning to steady and her equilibrium was slowly coming back on-line.

Amy looked back the way she had come and saw her backpack lying in the grass, behind a tree root sticking up from the ground. “Good,” she thought to herself. Now that her eyes had quit jumping from side to side, she studied the area around her. It was the same place that she had just left—how many hours or years ago? It was different too. The trees weren’t the same and the “junk pile” wasn’t here. She heard a moan coming from a several feet away. The grass was tall, and from her perspective on her knees she couldn’t see Carter where he lay. Amy opened her mouth to call out to him, but it came out sounding like a frog’s croak, “Carter, I’m over here.”

“I think I’m going to die,” Carter replied. “God, my head hurts! I feel like…” he never finished the sentence. Amy heard him start to gag and then listened respectfully as he went through his own bout of “throwing up.”

Feeling steadier, Amy attempted to stand up. She started to swoon, but fought the urge to collapse. After a few deep breathes, she gained control of her legs. She looked towards the spot where the sound of Carter’s voice had come from.