Timewatch (37 page)

J.J. looked at Cummings. He had that secretive, amused look on his face. When the commotion died down—everyone wanted to talk at once—Cummings said, “And yet all of you were important in some way to stabilize this timeline. Asking you to come to San Francisco was a way of getting everyone here.”

“The family reunion thing,” said Laney.

Cummings smiled at her and said, “Just so. Then, too, you Morgans and your friends were the ones who were willing to engage in this adventure and had lived in previous times where momentous events were happening.”

After Cummings had taken away the food since most of the older people were too busy talking to eat much, except for him—it was great to eat regular food again—he got a real jolt hearing Nicholas ask, “Has it ever occurred to any of the rest of you to wonder who Jeremy really is?”

Cummings was handing around the dessert, big slices of chocolate cake, when Nicholas's question dropped into the silence.

Looking up at Cummings, J.J. was startled to see him wink. Certain things rearranged themselves. It was like when you finally figured out a really tough question in physics. You had that same “I got it!” feeling and a sense of the rightness of your answer. You just knew that you had done it the best way possible. That was the feeling he had when he connected Jeremy and the Archdruid with Cummings. In some way, they were the same person.

But how could that be? Cummings wasn't a Morgan. He was just … Cummings. But he knew things. Then what was he doing acting as a servant? But come to think of it, it was perfect. He was a subtle guy, didn't say much but seemed to be good at dropping little hints here and there.

Everybody got quiet then until Caleb started talking, saying that he didn't want to lose touch with the other Morgans, not after all they'd been through. Too bad they couldn't stay in San Francisco. Laney looked excited, and her father looked interested.

Glancing around at the relatives, Caleb said, “I have been wondering what to do with my fortune when I die.”

That got everyone's attention.

Caleb went on. “I propose to set up a foundation that will do some good in this world. It is my belief that we need leaders—particularly in education, politics, and business—to return to the ideals that America was founded on.”

“And where are you going to find those people?” asked Nicholas.

“Perhaps money could be given to certain educational institutions to offer more history and civics classes.”

Laney wrinkled up her nose. “Most people my age don't care about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, you're right,” said J.J. “We're into movies and TV.”

“And don't forget music,” added Laney, smiling at him.

“Perhaps a foundation could fund scholarships to colleges that promote those sorts of values,” said Marjory. “And, as Laney and J.J. pointed out, use the media to fund specials like PBS does as well as promote other television programs and movies with those themes.”

“Laney mentioned the importance of music,” observed Nicholas. “J.J.'s mother, Diana, invited me to a concert given by the youth orchestra that J.J. was playing in. I was struck by how well they played and the passion they had for the music. After the concert was over, their conductor explained how the kids involved in music did better in school and developed values of discipline and hard work as well as a love for music that in many of them would last their entire lives.”

“Our music teacher showed us a film about the Venezuelans,” said J.J. “They've set up orchestras with slum kids. Could they ever play! The other kids teach them, and they get so involved that they don't want to do drugs or get involved in crime.”

Caleb nodded. “We've got to do something,” he said soberly. “After what I saw in an alternate future, there's no time to waste. In the meantime, all of you are welcome to stay as long as you like.”

People started drifting back to their rooms pretty fast after that, J.J. noticed.

After going to his room, he flopped onto his bed and buried his face in a pillow. A huge weight of misery settled on him. He'd never see Devonna again. She was only old bones now.

A knock at the door startled him. He didn't want to see anybody right now.

Reluctantly, he rolled off the bed and said, “C'mon in.” The last person he expected to see came in and quietly shut the door behind him.

“I thought you might be in need of some refreshment, so I took the liberty of bringing you something.”

“Thanks, but I don't think …”

Cummings put down a tray down on a small table. The aroma of hot chocolate drifted over to him. It was too much to resist.

J.J. went over to the table and sat down. He had drunk half the beverage before he noticed that Cummings was still there, sitting with his hands folded over his stomach and a faint smile on his lips. It was like he was waiting for something.

J.J. ran his tongue around the ring of chocolate around his mouth. Cummings silently handed him a napkin and waited patiently while he wiped his mouth clean.

It was beginning to get to him, how calm the guy was. What would it take to crack that, Roman soldiers running after him with their swords and a crazy Druid out to kill him or losing the first girl you ever loved?

J.J. shuddered. Then he felt the older man's hand on his shoulder.

“You have been through much, Jason, and acquitted yourself like a man.”

Cummings knew, but how?

“Devonna …” was all he could say as a tear squeezed itself out of his eye and ran down his cheek.

“Thanks to you, she and the child you sired are safe with Bran, and the continuity of that branch of the Morgan family is thereby assured.”

“But I'll never see her again!”

“No, not in that form.”

Seconds, like hard pellets of granite, weighted his tongue. He wanted to yell, take out his rage on the man standing in front of him, but he didn't dare. Something knowing and wise about the man stopped him, so he said nothing until the silence got to him and he had to ask, “Who is she now?”

Cummings only cocked his head to one side and said nothing.

“Crystal? The girl I met in Kenora? Devonna kind of reminded me of her, but that means that Crystal might be the reincarnation of Devonna.” So he hadn't lost her after all! Life suddenly looked wonderful, exciting even.

“So what happens now?”

“Nothing right now. Other matters may require a helping hand.”

And so Cummings had gone away, and because he was so tired he had lain down and almost instantly fallen asleep and had a wonderful dream that he tried desperately to remember when he woke up, but it was no good. All he could remember was that he and Crystal, whose face kept changing into Devonna's, were together and working on something important.

CHAPTER 52

“Geraldine, let's go sit on that seat in that lovely bay window for a few minutes.”

Her niece looked at her in surprise and then walked over to the far side of the room.

“A magnificent view,” said Marjory, seating herself on a cushion and admiring the moon silvering the tips of the waves rolling against the rocks below.

Geraldine sat down beside her aunt and said, “I think I'll go back home tomorrow, Aunt Marjory.”

“You won't stay for another few days?”

“I don't think so.” Geraldine gave a light laugh and continued. “I'm anxious to get back to work early.”

“And Dan?”

“So that's what this is about. I like Dan,” she said slowly, “but I'm not sure.”

“I saw how he looked at you this evening. He's definitely interested in you.”

Her niece blushed and started smoothing down her sundress.

“I understand, dear. After the affair with Charles, you may think it's too soon to become involved with another man.”

“It's not that, but how do I know that Dan won't leave me in the lurch?”

Her aunt was blunt. “Did he last time?”

“You're assuming that he was Paul.”

“Perhaps, but even if Dan isn't the reincarnation of Paul, sometimes you have to take a chance. And my intuition tells me that Dan is a good man who won't let you down. Just as importantly, I think you've learned some things about yourself lately, particularly from those dreams of Susanna that you've been having.”

Her niece took a deep breath and said, “You might be right, but I'm still not sure …”

“Oh, Geraldine. Just talk to the man. If I'm not mistaken, he's waiting for you over there.”

Agitated, Geraldine stood up and took a few steps toward Dan, who was sitting in the wing chair in the far corner of the library.

“I'll say good night now, dear. Just don't leave San Francisco without talking to him.”

Marjory paused at the library door and saw Dan striding over to Geraldine. He reached out to her. Geraldine took a tentative step toward him.

The last thing Marjory saw before she closed the door was Dan leading Geraldine, their hands entwined, over to the window seat, where they sat and began talking, their heads close together.

Unable to sleep right away, Marjory went into the breakfast room. A slight cough from behind her made her turn around.

“I took the liberty, Mrs. Bennett, of bringing you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you, Cummings. It's been a tiring time. I appreciate the tea,” she said, sinking down gratefully into an armchair. Cummings put the tray with the tea things on a table and sat down opposite her.

His voice was gentle as he said, “You and the others have done humanity a great service, which is just beginning. Caleb and his new family will need your support.”

An image of the future surged into her mind: Caleb and his wife, Gloria, his former secretary, were looking into a crib where their twins lay sleeping. Together, the children would grow up to influence the world in dramatic and special ways.

“Mrs. Bennett.”

Marjory found herself gripping the arms of her chair and Cummings looking at her with those calm, wise eyes. “Was it enough, Cummings? Did our tampering with time really help?” she asked in a strained voice.

“More than you know, I suspect.” His voice took on a resonant timbre that she hadn't noticed before. “Sages have said that this world is a school, a perfect place for individuals to learn and grow in awareness. If they do not, it is possible that they will destroy themselves. We are very near the end of a major cycle when a balance must be achieved. Many forces seek to disrupt this balance, with disastrous consequences if that happens. Your part, and that of the others, is to help preserve this equilibrium.”

“Why is that so important?”

“To preserve the earth and ensure that humanity may mature into its potential.”

“If we make the right choices.”

“That is so. Good night, Mrs. Bennett.”

Bowing slightly, he left the room with an unhurried tread, as though he had all the time in the world.

EPILOGUE

The old man dying on his bed listened to the nurse bustling around in his room. When Carlo had phoned him yesterday about the failure to exterminate the Morgans, he'd collapsed. They had wanted to take him to a hospital, but he had forbidden it. He'd die here, in his own bed, in his own way, and in his own time.

The nurse had banished his
papagaio.
Strange how he missed it, a stupid bird that had never talked, only moped in a cage.

And Carlo. He forced himself to admit that, yes, he missed his son, even though he had failed. And with him had died the chance to change history.

Exhausted, he dozed. Images tumbled through his mind: a Celtic horde advancing on the Romans while he, Mabon, made his secret deals to betray his country, but for the greater good, always! And the Indian lifetime. “Kiontawakon,” he muttered feebly. The nurse bent over him. He waved her away. She left, leaving a faintly pleasing antiseptic odor.

There had been other lifetimes, of course, but none more important than this one when he had almost succeeded in imposing his vision on the world. It would have been a glorious destiny, the Third Reich, a fitting successor to the Roman Empire, which he had admired greatly. Generations would remember him and tremble.

But in his next life, he would not make the same mistakes. The name of Hitler had become a byword, a reproach. But he had almost succeeded. Almost.

Next time …

The End

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am very grateful to editors Laura Gray, Quressa Robinson, and Sally Mason at Hay House for their patience and helpful suggestions, which have made my book so much better than it was originally.

Thanks also to Elizabeth Diewert at Balboa Press for her encouragement and help, and to the jurists there who chose
Timewatch
as the winner of the Balboa Press Fiction contest.

Many thanks also to my stepdaughter for following her intuition and suggesting to my husband that I enter the contest. I definitely owe you, Karen!

I am also grateful to the Manitoba Arts Council who, after seeing only three chapters of a rough draft of my book, gave me a grant to assist in finishing it.

Finally, I am so grateful to my extraordinary husband, Ron Lyric, for his steadfast love and support, and for his help in editing and contributing ideas to my novel.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Linda Grant is the winner of the first Balboa Press fiction contest. In addition to writing, Linda has taught gifted children in public schools and developed and led courses on personal growth and self-development for adults. She worked for a brief time in film and television production, the highlight of which was her experience as the production coordinator on the IMAX film
Heartland.
The mother of two daughters and stepmother to four others, Linda lives with her husband, Ron, in Kelowna, Canada, where they have led courses on a wide range of social and metaphysical topics.