The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (39 page)

They found a waiting room with orange and blue chairs and collapsed into them.  Eve studied her friend, her coppery page boy cut, the heavy makeup and the ruby red lips.

“I had an audition just before you called,” Joni said, wiping tears and mascara from her eyes.  “I rushed right over.”

Joni leaned back, taking Eve in, looking her up and down and shaking her head in astonishment.  “Look at you.  Where did you come from?  Where did you get that dress?  It’s a beauty.  It’s a better costume than I’ve seen in some Broadway shows.”

In all the chaos, Eve had forgotten she was still wearing her 1885 bustle dress.  It was bottle green velvet, with the skirt gathered up in the front with a series of scallops, and the front trimmed with a maroon bow.

Eve looked down at it.  “Oh God, I forgot.”

“Have you been in a play or making a movie or something?” Joni asked, completely baffled.

“No, no.  I’ll tell you the whole story someday.  Right now I need to call my parents, meet with the police…and…”

Joni’s eyes opened wide.  “The police?  What the hell happened, Eve?” Joni said, holding up the flat of her hand, like a stop sign, her face set in serious anticipation.  “And don’t tell me you’ll tell me later.  What happened to you?  The whole thing is just weird.  Tell me.  Now.”

But just then, two NYPD detectives started over, wearing unbuttoned topcoats, dark suits and dark ties.  The hospital had already contacted them.  Eve knew they were detectives; they had that stony, world-weary look about them.  She quickly flashed back to the visit with Inspector Byrnes and Detective Sergeant Doyle, when they burst into Patrick’s room and threatened her.  Was it only the night before?  Yes.  It seemed like weeks ago, and now that she was back in her world, it seemed like nothing more than a very bad nightmare.  But seeing the two detectives approach brought some of the fear of that nightmare back. 

Both girls stood, and Eve tried to appear calm and brave, despite feeling dizzy and disoriented.  The two officers gave Eve a puzzled look as they viewed her dress and her hairstyle.  Then their eyes cleared as they turned to business. 

They’d seen it all and heard it all.  Eve’s 1880s bustle dress, by comparison to what they had seen and experienced just in the last 24 hours, made them only mildly curious. 

“It’s going to have to wait,” Eve told Joni.

Joni swallowed as she timidly faced the detectives.  She then turned to Eve.  “What have you been doing, Eve?” Joni said, with a fretful shake of her head.

The detectives introduced themselves and presented their badges.

“Hello, detectives,” Eve said, softly, as she thought about Patrick fighting for his life in the ER.  He’d been a policeman, too, and a damn good one at a time when many had been corrupt.

These detectives gave her half smiles and spoke crisply, but respectively. 

“Miss Sharland?”

“Yes.”

“We have some questions for you regarding the man, a Patrick Gantly, you brought to the hospital.  We understand he suffered a gunshot wound?”

“Yes.”

Speechless, Joni eased back down in her chair, shaking her head, mumbling to herself, while Eve and the detectives went to a private corner of the waiting lounge.

Eve had known this interview was coming and she had fabricated a story.  Patrick had been cleaning his gun when it accidently went off. 

“Were you present at the time the incident happened?”

“No.”

“Are you in possession of the gun?”

“No.”

She told them she’d angrily thrown it into the Hudson River.  She’d never wanted Patrick to own a gun.  She’d told him this kind of thing could happen.  Eve babbled on, explaining how Patrick had thought natural remedies would heal the wound even though, she, as a nurse, had been strongly against it.  He ignored her.  What could she do? 

“What were you both doing in Central Park when he was obviously so sick?” a detective asked.

Eve said they were going to a Christmas party, an 1880s style Christmas party, when he fainted.  A man nearby called 911.

Eve knew the detectives didn’t entirely believe her, but they had all they needed for the time being.  They said they’d follow up.  Finally, they asked her for Patrick’s entire name and date of birth.  Eve had them ready.  They nodded and left, one shaking his head and the other chuckling.  This would be a good story to tell the guys back at the precinct.

Before leaving the hospital for home, Eve spoke to Patrick’s doctor.  It was too early for any positive change, of course, but that didn’t stop her from asking anyway. 

Eve stood by Patrick’s bedside, with Joni beside her.

“Who is he?” Joni whispered. 

A frown consumed Eve’s lower face.  “Just a guy… Just a guy I met a very long time ago and fell in love with.”

They stopped by Joni’s apartment to retrieve Georgy Boy.  When he saw Eve, he barked, jumped and charged for her.  Eve froze, startled by his appearance.  This wasn’t her Georgy Boy!  Hers was white with black spots.  This dog had large brown spots on his back, and his ears were completely brown.  This was not Georgy Boy! 

But the dog burst forward and came to her in a rush.  Eve dropped to her knees, took him up in her arms and embraced him, burying her face in his soft fur, while he licked and whined with happiness.  His scent was the same, his body the same; his spirit was the same, joyful and playful.  He rolled over and let her rub his belly, just as her Georgy Boy had always done. 

Eve looked up at Joni, her eyes filled with questions.  “When did Georgy Boy’s ears turn brown?”

“What do you mean?  They’ve always been brown.”

“Are you sure this is Georgy Boy?”

Joni stared with concern.  “Eve…are you sure you’re all right?  You’re acting a whole lot weird here.  Of course it’s Georgy Boy.”

Eve rubbed the dog’s belly, as his tail flopped about in happiness, his eyes filled with bliss.

“Look at him, Eve, he’s in heaven.  His mom and best friend is back.”

Eve felt wedged between worlds, half in this one and still half in the other, not fully present in either, each thought suspect, each footstep testing the new earth.  She smiled down at Georgy Boy, as he rolled and whimpered with delight.

Eve looked at Joni, long and steadily.  Could it be that Eve had changed something in the past that had somehow changed the present? 

Yes, Eve thought, I did something—something so small, so seemingly insignificant and undetectable that it changed Georgy Boy’s color.  How utterly strange.  She stared with cold speculation, feeling a shiver of dread.  What else had she changed?  What else would she discover had changed in the days to come?

Joni’s voice was soft with unease.  “Eve, you look tired.  You need to sleep.  Do you want me to go back to your apartment with you?”

Eve felt comforted by Joni’s presence, always a sure thing from her pre-time travel days. “Yes,” she said.  “I’d appreciate that.”

Joni gathered Georgy Boy’s bowls and leash and food and checkered bed, while Eve and Georgy Boy sat together on the floor getting reacquainted. 

In the cab, Joni told the driver the destination.  “West 107
^th
between Broadway and Riverside.”

They rode in silence, Eve relaxed a little, smiling gently as she watched her world go by, her New York of 2016, the one she loved and was so glad to have returned to.

Half way down the block, Joni spoke to the driver.  “The next building on the left,” she told him.

The cab drew up to the curb—Eve’s brownstone loomed outside.  Eve ventured a look, and goose bumps popped out on her arms.  God, no.  It was different.  The building was changed.  The number was the same but the building itself was now a rosy brownstone and it stood next to a set of quaint row houses that had not been there seven weeks ago.  Eve was certain, positive.  It
was
different. 

Eve sat back, blinking.  She had to accept that the world she’d once lived in had changed, and she was the one who had somehow changed it.  She swallowed away a lump and straightened.  What else had she changed?  What world had she returned to? 

Joni paid the driver, pushed open the door and Georgy Boy piled out of the cab, running to the entrance of the brownstone.  Joni and a reluctant Eve followed.  As Joni unlocked the front door, Eve glanced up and down the street, wondering which of her neighbors she would still know. 

She haltingly followed Joni and Georgy Boy up the winding stairs, startled again when they didn’t stop on the second floor, but ascended another flight.  Evidently, she now lived on the third floor. 

After Joni opened the door to her third-floor apartment, Eve nearly shouted out when she realized the layout of the apartment was the same—exactly the same as when she’d left it.  All her things were there: the blue throw rug in the hallway; the green tea kettle in the kitchen; the fireplace and chair and end table in the living room; the picture of her parents on the wall and—thankfully—they did indeed look like her parents.  Eve rushed into the bedroom: those were
her
clothes in the closet,
her
shoes near the chest of drawers,
her
bedspread and pillows on the bed. 

She dropped down on her bed and bounced, sighing out relief.  She wanted to cry and laugh all at once.  Instead, she teetered over on the bed and shut her eyes, exhausted, but grateful to finally be home.

Joni ordered pizza while Eve showered, letting the deliciously hot water flow freely over her head and down her back, scrubbing herself vigorously, trying to wash off weeks of pent-up frustration and anxiety.  She still felt caught between worlds, between thought and emotion, between her love for Patrick and her fear of losing him.  She felt edgy and scared, wondering what stark and dramatic changes were waiting for her in the future.

Eve and Joni drank red wine, ate pizza and talked—but not about Eve’s experiences.  Every time Joni probed, Eve would say she’d been lost in some weird dream and couldn’t talk about it yet.  Joni looked skeptical.  Eve knew she was disappointed to be kept in the dark, but Eve was too tired, unsteady and preoccupied to come up with anything better.  She was grateful when Joni left.

Although she was utterly exhausted, Eve made the call to her parents—a call she’d been dreading.  She’d thought long and hard about what she was going to say.  She would be waking them up, since it was now almost 2am, but she didn’t want to wait until morning.  And besides, she had something important to talk to her father about.

Eve sat up in bed, with Georgy Boy lying beside her, his chocolate brown eyes staring up at her worshipfully, his tail sporadically flicking from side to side. 

“You’re my same little boy, aren’t you?” she whispered.  His spirit was definitely the same inside that differently colored body.

Eve tapped her parents’ number and waited.  Her mother’s sleepy voice answered.

Eve quickly told her that she was home and that she was fine.  As expected, Mrs. Sharland was all emotion, tears and blame.  Eve calmed her down the best she could, telling her that for the past seven weeks, she’d been involved in a top secret medical experiment.

Her mother lashed out again and Eve waited with weary patience until her mother’s emotion finally ran out and Eve could apologize for not getting in touch.

And then Eve’s father came on the line and it all started again.  He demanded to know the how, who, what, where and when of this
so-called
medical experiment.  He growled and shouted about how he and other FBI field investigators, and not a few policemen, had been out searching for Eve for weeks, and they had come up with nothing.  How was that possible?  They were seasoned professionals.

Eve’s preparation helped.  Her father was an FBI man and he knew about secret projects.

“I’ll be able to tell you all about it someday, Dad, but not right now.  All I can say is that it was top secret and it was for a good cause.”

Still he rumbled on until finally Eve stopped him with the phrase she knew would work.  Eve’s father had always loved and worshipped her and she knew he would do anything for her.

“Dad, I need your help.”

He abruptly stopped talking.  When he spoke again, his voice was filled with sudden urgency.  “Help?  What’s the matter?  Are you in some kind of trouble?  What kind of help?”

Eve had been carefully composing what she was about to say for many hours. 

“I’m fine.  Everything’s fine.  Dad…Listen, I need you to do me a big favor.  I need you to create an identity for someone.”

There was a long, cold silence.

When her father spoke, his voice was flat and filled with worry.  “Evelyn Aleta Sharland, what have you done?”

Wow!  Her full name.  Now she was in
big
trouble.  Her father hadn’t used her full name in years.

“Have you had some wild affair with a diplomat’s son off in some other part of the world?”

“No, Dad…Nothing like that.  Look I can’t you tell right now, but I promise I will tell you someday.  But for now, please trust me and please help me do this.  It is extremely important.  Will you help me?”

After Eve hung up, waves of fatigue rolled over her.  She switched off the electric light—yes, the wonderful electric bedside light—tugged the creamy down quilt up to her neck and was soon drifting off into a deep, silky sleep.  She felt Georgy Boy nuzzle his cold nose into her right ear, just like he always had.  Then he let out a long, ragged sigh.  Eve smiled, her hand lazily stroking Georgy Boy’s head, and then she floated off to sleep and dreamed that Patrick was sitting at the foot of the bed, smiling.

“Don’t worry, Miss Kennedy.  I’m here.  I’ll protect you.  By the way, will you marry me?”

CHAPTER 35

Patrick blinked around his hospital room in blank astonishment.  His eyes cleared and sharpened as he took in the beeping monitors with their bright flashing numbers and squiggly lines of peaks and valleys.  The IV drip was still in his arm.  He stared at it, alarmed and baffled.

Where was he?  What had happened?  Was he dead?  Then he saw her enter his room.  Eve!