Once More With feeling
This was the lead-off story in the 2016 Solstice Publishing Summer Solstice Anthology Let's Have Fun, Vol. 1
With more than a little trepidation (trepidation, hell! Downright nervousness!), George pulled his SUV to the curb at the airport. It wasn’t enough of an airport to have separate arrival and departure levels; it was a tiny place, and all they got was two puddle-jumper flights in and out each day. It was just a lot easier to fly in, even with the small planes and the horrid flight schedule, than coming into a larger airport and driving. The closest major airport was at least an hour and a half drive, probably two, even without any traffic issues. He’d seen the plane arrive, and getting luggage didn’t take long here. She should be outside by now. If not, well, he’d just go around again. For the fourth time. It wasn’t much of a trip. He was nervous as all hell.
Oh, God, there she was! Their eyes met, and even this far away, he knew her and she knew him. They almost seemed to link in some sort of mystic connection, right there, out in the street.
This is ridiculous, he thought. We haven’t seen each other in almost fifty years. We’re just... old friends meeting up again. Right? He pulled over to the curb about five feet beyond her, put the car in park, and pushed the button to open the tailgate. Stepping out, he stood, almost paralyzed, as their eyes met again. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. She was casually dressed in black slacks and a loose, off-white blouse, her hair still light but now more gray than blonde as it had been the last time he’d seen her all those years ago. Perhaps not quite as slender as she’d been, but she still had a figure he could seriously appreciate, and it was her, which would have trumped any far greater issues about age, weight or... whatever. Overall, she was still utterly recognizable, unmistakable to his eyes. He felt a bit self-conscious about his jeans (although freshly-pressed and creased) and t-shirt, not to mention his expanding waistline, but he shrugged it off. This was him. No posturing, no airs. Just him.
Forcing himself to move lest one of the airport officials take an interest in his standing there, he walked over to her. “Beth,” he murmured in greeting.
“George,” she responded, equally quietly. She sounded as nervous as he was, but he really didn’t notice. Before he could take hold of her bags, she’d stepped so close that they were almost touching and rose on tiptoe to kiss him lightly. Unable to restrain himself, he enveloped her in his arms and they stood like that for long enough that one of the parking Nazis was walking over to tell them to get a move on. God, it felt so good, after all the years, all the daydreams.
Driving away from the airport, Beth kept her hands folded primly in her lap and looked around. “I’ve never been here before,” she said quietly.
“That’s what you said in your email,” George replied. “Tomorrow I’ll show you some of the sights. I figured tonight you’d just prefer to settle in. We can have a leisurely dinner, share a bottle of wine... just relax at home.”
Beth took a deep breath. “That sounds nice,” she responded in that same quiet, subdued tone of voice.
☼☼☼
“Red or white?” George asked, peering into the wine fridge.
“Um... is either one sweet?” Beth asked.
“Ah, no. We never went in for sweet wines. But let me see...” He rummaged around in the shelves before coming up with light pinot noir. “This won’t be too heavy or too dry, at least. It’s about the best I can do right now.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Beth was walking slowly around the living room, pausing to look at artwork hanging on the walls, touching sculptures and knicknacks sitting on the tables and then stepping back to look at the oriental carpet underfoot. “Your house is beautiful, George. I know I said so when I saw the pictures you sent of your dog, years ago, but now that I see it all first hand, it really is. It’s... it’s gorgeous.”
He snorted quietly as he worked the corkscrew. “Not my doing, I’m afraid. My contributions were pretty much limited to the heavy lifting and hanging. My only artistic contribution was turning out to have a talent for choosing mat colors. Might have mattered more if we’d still had any wall space to fill up. Here,” he said as he handed her a wineglass. He’d gotten out the good crystal ones that had almost never been used because they had to be hand-washed. “To...” He paused, at a loss for a toast that didn’t go farther than she might be comfortable with.
Her eyes locked with his as she took a deep breath. “To us, together again. Friends forever and... whatever else happens.”
Was that a touch of color on her cheekbones? He reached out his glass and clinked it gently with hers. “Whatever else happens.” He made his way to a chair. “And with that, I’m going to rest my bad back by sitting. Feel free to keep looking around, if you want, but it’ll all be here in the morning and I can give you the Cook’s tour then.”
Slowly, Beth took the nearby matching chair. Kicking off her shoes and putting her feet up on the ottoman, she sighed softly. “One of us has to bring it up, I suppose. Where am I supposed to be sleeping?”
George swirled the wine in his glass, delaying his response. Yes, someone did have to bring it up. He sighed to himself. In for a penny, in for a pound. Whatever else happens. “Your choice. The guest room is that way—” He gestured with his glass—”and it’s got what I’m told is very comfortable pull-out. It’s not set up, but that only takes a couple of minutes. That recliner over there is very comfortable; I’ve spent several nights in it myself when I was sick and coughing all night long. And—” He hesitated, shrugged slightly and plowed ahead. “You’re welcome to sleep in my bed.”
Beth sat in silence for several minutes, just sipping her wine and, presumably, considering her alternatives. “If I sleep in your bed, am I promising sex?”
George’s face twisted in a wry half-smile. “I’ll think about it a lot. At this age, that’s mostly what I can do any more anyway.”
Impulsively, Beth’s hand went out toward him. They were too far away, though, and she pulled it back. “Oh, George. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...”
He waved it away. “Don’t worry. It’s just one of those things that happens. Besides, no matter where you sleep, I’ll be thinking about it. Can’t help that, either. It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.” He smiled wryly, trying to keep it from turning into a leer.
“Well... let’s try it.” I’ll be thinking about it, too, she thought. But...
Several more minutes passed in less-than-perfectly-comfortable silence. When she spoke, it was almost a whisper. “I wish...”
“Don’t.” His voice was soft, his tone gentle. “That was then, and we made choices. Sure, we both regret them. But those were the choices we made then, and we’ve lived with the consequences ever since. You learn a lot more from bad choices than good ones, and I’ve had one hell of an education. This is now. We can’t undo those choices and we can’t do it all over. Let’s just enjoy being together now.” He hoisted his wineglass to her. “And before we get all maudlin, which is where this could go, what would you like for dinner?”
“What are my choices?”
☼☼☼
“God, what a huge bedroom!”
George smiled. “Come on. I’ve got some space open in the closet for you.” He carried her suitcases on through the bathroom.
She followed, still gawking at yet another room that was, to her, utterly fabulous. Or maybe decadent; she wasn’t sure which. As he opened the suitcase and laid it flat on the floor, she tried to shoo him away. “I can do that.”
“Worry about the folded stuff,” he replied. “Shelves over there, and the second and third drawers in the dresser are empty.” He pointed at the piece in question. Straightening up, he pulled a handful of hangers from one side of the suitcase. “Here.” He walked over to a clear section of hanging bar and dropped them onto the wooden rod.
“Oh, crap,” she muttered. “I forgot a nightgown.”
George again stifled a leer. That wouldn’t be a good idea right now, he thought. “Don’t worry about it on my account. I sleep in skin and I’m going to, no matter what you’re wearing. Or not wearing.”
“And if I do, we’re still good on no sex?” She was a bit hesitant.
George settled for a gentle smile and a nod this time. “I won’t promise not to look. That’s all. Beyond that—yes, we’re good.”
“It’s not as much to look at now,” she said. “You missed the best years.”
He shook his head. “The best years start now. It’s not what we missed; it’s whatever we can still have.” She gave him a quick kiss.
☼☼☼
Morning came much later than usual for George, although he had to admit that he’d awakened a lot earlier than usual the day before. That had probably been nerves. Or excitement. Or both. This... this just felt comfortable. Right.
Slowly, carefully, he rolled over until he was facing Beth, who was still sleeping. She looks so peaceful, he thought. And beautiful.
Several minutes later, her eyes flickered open. When she saw him, they snapped shut again. “My God,” she exclaimed. “How am I supposed to sleep with you staring at me like that?”
“I can’t help it. You have no idea how long it’s been...”
“Oh, yes, I do,” she retorted. “Seven years, four months and eleven days.”
“Say what?” His mind raced. She’s been counting too? “Since we got back in touch, sure. But even before that, I used to dream of waking up next to you.”
“Okay,” she sighed. “You’ve done that now and seen what a fright I am when I wake up. Trust me, bad as this is, it’s better than usual. Here. Let me come snuggle and if I can, go back to sleep for a bit. At least let me take some time to wake up properly.” He put an arm around her and pulled them together.
Later, coffee in hand, they went out to the back patio. “It’s very pretty out here,” she said, taking a seat. “It must be spectacular when everything’s in bloom.”
“It’s quite something. Maybe you’ll be here to see it next year.” He paused. “How long are you staying?”
She chuckled quietly. “We should have settled that up front, shouldn’t we? My ticket back is for next Thursday. But I can change it if need be.”
George wouldn’t look at her. “You’ve probably got to get back to the farm.” Something clutched at his heart. He’d hoped she’d come to stay, but he was afraid to bring it up.
“Nope. The sale went through and we closed two days ago. I’m going back because I’ve still got to move out, but that’s all. They’ve taken over all the responsibilities. I’m done with that. No more dark to dark work, no more animals... I’m done.”
He hesitated. “Do you have a new place to live?” His heart skipped a beat.
She kept her eyes off him and shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe. I’ll have to see.” Would he want me living here with him? she wondered.
By the time mid-afternoon rolled around, George had put more than a hundred miles on the car, just taking her around to places he thought she might like to see. “We just don’t go places like this back east,” she said. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”
“I remember. Even back where I grew up, a major trip was what I do these days just to go to the grocery store. Now, I promised you an early dinner since we skipped lunch, and then I’ve saved the best for last. You can have steak, seafood or whatever else strikes your fancy.”
“In a place like this, how could I resist the seafood?”
When they left the restaurant after a very leisurely dinner, the sun was getting low in the west. George drove down the highway until he came to an unsigned turnoff. “Here we go,” he said as he took the turn. After about a half-mile, the pavement disappeared, but George kept going on the dirt track. Finally, there was a break in the trees where he pulled off into the grass and turned the car around to leave it facing outward. Beth was twisted in her seat, facing backwards, while he parked. “Come on,” he said as he opened his door.
The back of the SUV held two folding recliners and a small case. He handed her the case, pulled out the recliners and arranged them under his arms. She regained her voice. “Is that... is that the ocean?”
“Of course. Now we just set these up over here…” He put the recliners down and unfolded the first. The second went right beside it, then he took the small case from her and set it between the chairs. “Come over here a minute,” he said. He reached for her hand and led her to the edge of the cliff.
Cautiously she peered down at the water breaking against the stone more than a hundred feet below. “It’s a long way down.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’re not going down there, and we’re not jumping. We’re just going to make a wish.” He pulled out his wallet and removed two large coins. Examining both of them in the fading light, he selected one and handed it to her. “Here. This one’s for you. It’s from the year you were born.”
Her eyes grew big. “This is a silver dollar,” she breathed. “A real silver dollar. I haven’t seen one in years. God! It’s worth—”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. They’re both real silver dollars, and I got them just so we could make our wishes here. Whoever we’re making these wishes to needs to know we mean business. Now— when you throw it, do it like you were skipping a stone. Get it as far out into the ocean as you can.” He hefted his own dollar, formulating his wish. Beth had a momentary look of deep concentration as she did the same, then her face cleared as well.
“Ready?” When she nodded, he turned and cocked his arm, ready to send the coin sailing out above the waves. “On three. One... two... three!” and with that, both of the bright coins went out into the setting sun, flashing reflections of the reddening light until they fell into the water and were gone.
“I wished—” she began.
“Hssht!” he said, stopping her. “Got to keep it secret or it can’t come true.” He sat in the right-hand recliner, picked up the case and began to unzip it. “Now we share another bottle of wine as we watch the sun go down.”
☼☼☼
Waking up the next morning seemed to be particularly difficult. Couldn’t have been the wine, he thought. I had no problems driving home. And I slept like a log.
Suddenly his eyes popped wide open. He was moving his tongue around in his mouth and he now had more teeth than he’d had in years. A lot more teeth. Cautiously he reached up and felt his hair. It seemed a lot thicker. Came farther down his forehead, too. His heart began to pound.
Carefully, slowly, he rolled over so he was facing Beth just as he had the previous morning. Now, though, she was blonde, young Beth. His heart was still pounding, but after a period of slow, steady breathing, it assumed a more normal rhythm. Sort of.
Her left eye fluttered open, then both of them opened wide. She saw him and almost levitated out of the bed. “What the—!”
George reached out a steadying hand. “Easy! It’s just me.”
She was sputtering, quivering with anxiety. “But what... how... what the hell’s going on? You’re young!”
George smiled, faking a calmness he didn’t really feel. “You ought to see yourself.”
“What... what do you mean? What do I look like?” She reached up and began feeling her face with her fingertips.
“You look just like the girl I met almost fifty years ago. Come on.” He slid out of bed and waited for her to join him, heedless of their nudity. When she reached him, he took her by the hand and led her into the bathroom, where they stood at the sink and looked into the mirror together.
“Jesus God,” she breathed. “We’re kids!”
“Sure looks that way.” George kept sneaking looks at a lot more than just Beth’s face, but he was working hard to keep from letting his interest show. It was a losing battle; his teenage body was reacting in an utterly predictable fashion.
Beth looked down at the proof of his interest and said, “Forget it, George. I don’t know whether we’re dead, hallucinating or what, but you’re not doing anything with that until I know what’s going on. If then. Remember, you promised.” She tried to leave the mirror, but he held on to her hand.
“Yes, I did, and I meant it. I can’t help the reaction. But there is one thing I want to do right now.” He pulled her closer, took her by the shoulders and kissed her seriously.
She resisted, not strongly, for a moment, then pulled free of his lips and just huddled to his chest. “What’s happened to us?” she whispered.
“I don’t know. You mentioned two possibilities. But maybe we really are kids again. Our bodies, anyway.” He continued to hold her, his hands unmoving on her back.
“But why?” Then she paused. “What did you wish for last night?”
He smiled wryly. “Pretty much this, to be honest. You?”
“Me, too. But that was just...”
“Maybe not. It does seem to be what’s happened.” He looked around the bathroom. “Nothing else seems to have changed.”
She let out a long breath. “I need coffee. Lots of coffee. Maybe with a shot of whiskey in it, but coffee for sure.”
In the kitchen, George busied himself with the coffeemaker while Beth stood, staring out the picture window in the breakfast nook. “George, do you get much heavy fog here?”
“Hm? Sometimes, yeah. I’ve seen it so thick at times that you can’t see the fence. Cup or mug?”
“Mug, please. Have you ever seen it pea-soup thick from the fence on out and clear inside?”
George stopped as he was setting up the mugs and looked out at what she was seeing. “My God! No, never like that. I mean, I’ve had it that thick before, but clear as a bell and then beginning right at the fence? Never. What’s going on?” He took a deep breath, let it out. “Still want that whiskey?” The mugs were ready otherwise, and the coffee machine was just about finished making the pot.
Beth turned away from the window. “No, I think I’ll pass. Did you get us a card?” she asked, reaching for an envelope on the table. On its face was written, in beautiful, flowing copperplate script, ‘Beth and George.’ She showed it to him.
“Nice thought,” he said as he took it from her. “But no, it’s not from me.” He slit the envelope open and handed it back. She pulled out a card, opened it and began reading.
Suddenly she stopped, closed the card emphatically and handed it to George. “This needs to be read out loud. In Rod Serling’s voice. We have definitely entered the Twilight Zone.”
George opened it and read it for himself:
Your wishes have been granted, although you realize that by now. Outside the fog, it is the beginning of August, 1966. Once
you go through the fog, you will have twenty-four hours in which to decide what course of action you wish to follow. You can
remain in 1966 and your lives will proceed normally from then, along whatever track you may elect to take. Or you can return to
the house and when you wake up the next morning, you will be back in 2016 at your real ages. If you remain in 1966 for more
than twenty-four hours, you have made your choice and the house will be gone.
Choose wisely!
Carefully, George set the card down on the table. “No signature,” he said.
Beth sat heavily in a chair. “Do we really care? Whoever it is was able to do all this,” she said, as she waved a hand at both of them. “I think I can ignore the metaphysical questions in favor of actual data.”
He brought mugs of coffee over to the table. “I can’t argue with that. Here, in the living room or out on the patio?”
She considered that for a moment, then said, “Living room. I’d love to go outside, but frankly, I’m a bit leery of going out before I’m dressed and ready. Just in case. I don’t feel like being eighteen again in a strange place with nothing more to my name than one of your bathrobes.” She plucked at the fabric with her free hand to emphasize her meaning as she stood.
Settling into her chair in the living room, she took several minutes before speaking. “I... I really don’t know what to do. Part of me just wants to stay here with you in this house as long as the food holds out. Another part of me wants to go out, spend the day having fun and then come back, ready to go back to our old lives.”
George finished the thought. “Uh-huh. And at least for me, there’s a part that wants the two of us to leave here and never look back.” He looked like he was going to say more, but he didn’t. After a moment, he took another sip of his coffee.
Beth held her mug in both hands, took a long sip and set it down, folding her hands in her lap before she spoke. “Yes. Leave and never look back. Try doing it over again, avoiding the mistakes we made before.”
“We weren’t a mistake,” George interjected.
She looked at him and smiled warmly. “Well, yes and no. Our meeting wasn’t a mistake. Our dating wasn’t. But then we went our separate ways, and that, I think, was a mistake.”
“A huge mistake, for me.”
“Me, too.” She took another drink of her coffee, then drained her mug and set it back down. “But the real question is where we go from here.” She stood up and reached for his hand. “Right now, we don’t have to decide our future. Come on. Now that I know what’s going on, this is one mistake I can remedy right now. We can remedy.”
She led him back to the bedroom. Just before she climbed back into bed, she said, “Just keep one thing in mind, George. Yes, I’ve had plenty of experience, but this body is virgin. Go gently.”
☼☼☼
“Well, I’m less sore than I remember being,” she said. “Now. We’ve got a choice to make.”
George had an arm thrown over his face. “Well, there is this one position—”
She slapped his arm. “Be serious, damn it. That’s not what I mean and you know it. We’ve got plenty of time for that, no matter what we choose to do. I mean do we stay here, do we go out and come back, or do we leave and keep on going?”
“No internet. No Facebook. No email.”
“No Social Security checks. No unlimited long distance. No cellphones.”
He snorted. “No computers, for all intents and purposes. No satellite TV, no plastic zipper bags, no TSA at the airports.”
“Sounds like paradise,” she murmured. George began humming. “What’s that song?” she asked. “It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.”
“If I Can’t Have You. Yvonne Elliman,” he responded. “Gist of it is that if I can’t be with you, I don’t want anyone else. I’m plenty willing to go and not come back, but only if you’re with me.”
“Oh, trust me, George. I’m not going alone. Or with anyone else. Been there, done that. If I go, it’s because we go together.” She rolled over and snuggled close to him.
“So we’re agreed? We’re going out there, together, to do it all again?” He caressed her back absently.
She took a deep breath. “Yes, we’re agreed, and college starts in a couple of weeks. We’ve got plenty of time to get to campus. I don’t think we’re due there until the last Monday of the month, if I recall correctly. Now before we go shower, what was that position you were going to bring up? I think you’re ready to go again.”
☼☼☼
Beth stood up and stretched. “Okay, my suitcases are packed again. How are you doing?”
George looked longingly at a few more items in the closet, but they were all modern and he figured he didn’t dare try to take them. Clothing and basic toiletries, those were pretty much it. “Done. I think. Is there anything in the house you want to take? This is our last chance.”
She reached for his hand. “Let’s go through it together.”
They spent close to a half-hour going through the house carefully, room by room. Most of the items either one thought of taking were too obviously modern, and neither of them was prepared for the potential hassle of introducing such an anomaly—or having the item vanish. Finally they settled on two coffee mugs and one small sculpture. “I’ll lose this little chipmunk if I have to,” George said, “but if I leave it, I lose it anyway, and I love it. It’s not like it’s dated anywhere.”
“And mugs are just mugs,” she added. “Let’s hit the garage. Anything out there?”
“Just cash and jewelry in the safe,” he told her. “I figure we’ll take all the cash and whatever jewelry you like.” He opened the door to the garage and stopped dead. “That was a 2014 Honda Pilot just yesterday.” A 1963 Jeep CJ-5 sat in the garage bay.
Beth shrugged. “We’ve still got four-wheel drive to get us out of here and more important, we’ve got wheels we can use without getting stared at by everybody. I kind of expected something like it after looking at the cash in my wallet. It’s all old-style money, now. Whoever, or whatever, did this to us really did it up right.”
Closing the safe reluctantly, George lifted the suitcases to carry them around and set them in the back of the Jeep. “I guess... this is it. Shall we?” He opened the passenger door for Beth.
The keys in his pocket fit the Jeep and the control on the wall still opened the garage door, which was good. It was a very heavy door. When George had pulled clear of it, though, he found that he had no control to close it. “Damn!” He got out and closed the door with the remote on the outside wall. Climbing back into the Jeep, he spent a long time just sitting, looking at the house. Finally, he looked at Beth and again marveled at how gorgeous she was to his eyes as a teenager. “Ready?”
She reached over and put her hand on top of his, on the gearshift. “Together.” With both hands on the lever, they shifted the Jeep into first and began to roll. As they entered the fog, Beth said, “We’re not looking back. We’re together. We’re not coming back. Let’s go.”
With more than a little trepidation (trepidation, hell! Downright nervousness!), George pulled his SUV to the curb at the airport. It wasn’t enough of an airport to have separate arrival and departure levels; it was a tiny place, and all they got was two puddle-jumper flights in and out each day. It was just a lot easier to fly in, even with the small planes and the horrid flight schedule, than coming into a larger airport and driving. The closest major airport was at least an hour and a half drive, probably two, even without any traffic issues. He’d seen the plane arrive, and getting luggage didn’t take long here. She should be outside by now. If not, well, he’d just go around again. For the fourth time. It wasn’t much of a trip. He was nervous as all hell.
Oh, God, there she was! Their eyes met, and even this far away, he knew her and she knew him. They almost seemed to link in some sort of mystic connection, right there, out in the street.
This is ridiculous, he thought. We haven’t seen each other in almost fifty years. We’re just... old friends meeting up again. Right? He pulled over to the curb about five feet beyond her, put the car in park, and pushed the button to open the tailgate. Stepping out, he stood, almost paralyzed, as their eyes met again. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. She was casually dressed in black slacks and a loose, off-white blouse, her hair still light but now more gray than blonde as it had been the last time he’d seen her all those years ago. Perhaps not quite as slender as she’d been, but she still had a figure he could seriously appreciate, and it was her, which would have trumped any far greater issues about age, weight or... whatever. Overall, she was still utterly recognizable, unmistakable to his eyes. He felt a bit self-conscious about his jeans (although freshly-pressed and creased) and t-shirt, not to mention his expanding waistline, but he shrugged it off. This was him. No posturing, no airs. Just him.
Forcing himself to move lest one of the airport officials take an interest in his standing there, he walked over to her. “Beth,” he murmured in greeting.
“George,” she responded, equally quietly. She sounded as nervous as he was, but he really didn’t notice. Before he could take hold of her bags, she’d stepped so close that they were almost touching and rose on tiptoe to kiss him lightly. Unable to restrain himself, he enveloped her in his arms and they stood like that for long enough that one of the parking Nazis was walking over to tell them to get a move on. God, it felt so good, after all the years, all the daydreams.
Driving away from the airport, Beth kept her hands folded primly in her lap and looked around. “I’ve never been here before,” she said quietly.
“That’s what you said in your email,” George replied. “Tomorrow I’ll show you some of the sights. I figured tonight you’d just prefer to settle in. We can have a leisurely dinner, share a bottle of wine... just relax at home.”
Beth took a deep breath. “That sounds nice,” she responded in that same quiet, subdued tone of voice.
☼☼☼
“Red or white?” George asked, peering into the wine fridge.
“Um... is either one sweet?” Beth asked.
“Ah, no. We never went in for sweet wines. But let me see...” He rummaged around in the shelves before coming up with light pinot noir. “This won’t be too heavy or too dry, at least. It’s about the best I can do right now.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Beth was walking slowly around the living room, pausing to look at artwork hanging on the walls, touching sculptures and knicknacks sitting on the tables and then stepping back to look at the oriental carpet underfoot. “Your house is beautiful, George. I know I said so when I saw the pictures you sent of your dog, years ago, but now that I see it all first hand, it really is. It’s... it’s gorgeous.”
He snorted quietly as he worked the corkscrew. “Not my doing, I’m afraid. My contributions were pretty much limited to the heavy lifting and hanging. My only artistic contribution was turning out to have a talent for choosing mat colors. Might have mattered more if we’d still had any wall space to fill up. Here,” he said as he handed her a wineglass. He’d gotten out the good crystal ones that had almost never been used because they had to be hand-washed. “To...” He paused, at a loss for a toast that didn’t go farther than she might be comfortable with.
Her eyes locked with his as she took a deep breath. “To us, together again. Friends forever and... whatever else happens.”
Was that a touch of color on her cheekbones? He reached out his glass and clinked it gently with hers. “Whatever else happens.” He made his way to a chair. “And with that, I’m going to rest my bad back by sitting. Feel free to keep looking around, if you want, but it’ll all be here in the morning and I can give you the Cook’s tour then.”
Slowly, Beth took the nearby matching chair. Kicking off her shoes and putting her feet up on the ottoman, she sighed softly. “One of us has to bring it up, I suppose. Where am I supposed to be sleeping?”
George swirled the wine in his glass, delaying his response. Yes, someone did have to bring it up. He sighed to himself. In for a penny, in for a pound. Whatever else happens. “Your choice. The guest room is that way—” He gestured with his glass—”and it’s got what I’m told is very comfortable pull-out. It’s not set up, but that only takes a couple of minutes. That recliner over there is very comfortable; I’ve spent several nights in it myself when I was sick and coughing all night long. And—” He hesitated, shrugged slightly and plowed ahead. “You’re welcome to sleep in my bed.”
Beth sat in silence for several minutes, just sipping her wine and, presumably, considering her alternatives. “If I sleep in your bed, am I promising sex?”
George’s face twisted in a wry half-smile. “I’ll think about it a lot. At this age, that’s mostly what I can do any more anyway.”
Impulsively, Beth’s hand went out toward him. They were too far away, though, and she pulled it back. “Oh, George. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...”
He waved it away. “Don’t worry. It’s just one of those things that happens. Besides, no matter where you sleep, I’ll be thinking about it. Can’t help that, either. It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.” He smiled wryly, trying to keep it from turning into a leer.
“Well... let’s try it.” I’ll be thinking about it, too, she thought. But...
Several more minutes passed in less-than-perfectly-comfortable silence. When she spoke, it was almost a whisper. “I wish...”
“Don’t.” His voice was soft, his tone gentle. “That was then, and we made choices. Sure, we both regret them. But those were the choices we made then, and we’ve lived with the consequences ever since. You learn a lot more from bad choices than good ones, and I’ve had one hell of an education. This is now. We can’t undo those choices and we can’t do it all over. Let’s just enjoy being together now.” He hoisted his wineglass to her. “And before we get all maudlin, which is where this could go, what would you like for dinner?”
“What are my choices?”
☼☼☼
“God, what a huge bedroom!”
George smiled. “Come on. I’ve got some space open in the closet for you.” He carried her suitcases on through the bathroom.
She followed, still gawking at yet another room that was, to her, utterly fabulous. Or maybe decadent; she wasn’t sure which. As he opened the suitcase and laid it flat on the floor, she tried to shoo him away. “I can do that.”
“Worry about the folded stuff,” he replied. “Shelves over there, and the second and third drawers in the dresser are empty.” He pointed at the piece in question. Straightening up, he pulled a handful of hangers from one side of the suitcase. “Here.” He walked over to a clear section of hanging bar and dropped them onto the wooden rod.
“Oh, crap,” she muttered. “I forgot a nightgown.”
George again stifled a leer. That wouldn’t be a good idea right now, he thought. “Don’t worry about it on my account. I sleep in skin and I’m going to, no matter what you’re wearing. Or not wearing.”
“And if I do, we’re still good on no sex?” She was a bit hesitant.
George settled for a gentle smile and a nod this time. “I won’t promise not to look. That’s all. Beyond that—yes, we’re good.”
“It’s not as much to look at now,” she said. “You missed the best years.”
He shook his head. “The best years start now. It’s not what we missed; it’s whatever we can still have.” She gave him a quick kiss.
☼☼☼
Morning came much later than usual for George, although he had to admit that he’d awakened a lot earlier than usual the day before. That had probably been nerves. Or excitement. Or both. This... this just felt comfortable. Right.
Slowly, carefully, he rolled over until he was facing Beth, who was still sleeping. She looks so peaceful, he thought. And beautiful.
Several minutes later, her eyes flickered open. When she saw him, they snapped shut again. “My God,” she exclaimed. “How am I supposed to sleep with you staring at me like that?”
“I can’t help it. You have no idea how long it’s been...”
“Oh, yes, I do,” she retorted. “Seven years, four months and eleven days.”
“Say what?” His mind raced. She’s been counting too? “Since we got back in touch, sure. But even before that, I used to dream of waking up next to you.”
“Okay,” she sighed. “You’ve done that now and seen what a fright I am when I wake up. Trust me, bad as this is, it’s better than usual. Here. Let me come snuggle and if I can, go back to sleep for a bit. At least let me take some time to wake up properly.” He put an arm around her and pulled them together.
Later, coffee in hand, they went out to the back patio. “It’s very pretty out here,” she said, taking a seat. “It must be spectacular when everything’s in bloom.”
“It’s quite something. Maybe you’ll be here to see it next year.” He paused. “How long are you staying?”
She chuckled quietly. “We should have settled that up front, shouldn’t we? My ticket back is for next Thursday. But I can change it if need be.”
George wouldn’t look at her. “You’ve probably got to get back to the farm.” Something clutched at his heart. He’d hoped she’d come to stay, but he was afraid to bring it up.
“Nope. The sale went through and we closed two days ago. I’m going back because I’ve still got to move out, but that’s all. They’ve taken over all the responsibilities. I’m done with that. No more dark to dark work, no more animals... I’m done.”
He hesitated. “Do you have a new place to live?” His heart skipped a beat.
She kept her eyes off him and shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe. I’ll have to see.” Would he want me living here with him? she wondered.
By the time mid-afternoon rolled around, George had put more than a hundred miles on the car, just taking her around to places he thought she might like to see. “We just don’t go places like this back east,” she said. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”
“I remember. Even back where I grew up, a major trip was what I do these days just to go to the grocery store. Now, I promised you an early dinner since we skipped lunch, and then I’ve saved the best for last. You can have steak, seafood or whatever else strikes your fancy.”
“In a place like this, how could I resist the seafood?”
When they left the restaurant after a very leisurely dinner, the sun was getting low in the west. George drove down the highway until he came to an unsigned turnoff. “Here we go,” he said as he took the turn. After about a half-mile, the pavement disappeared, but George kept going on the dirt track. Finally, there was a break in the trees where he pulled off into the grass and turned the car around to leave it facing outward. Beth was twisted in her seat, facing backwards, while he parked. “Come on,” he said as he opened his door.
The back of the SUV held two folding recliners and a small case. He handed her the case, pulled out the recliners and arranged them under his arms. She regained her voice. “Is that... is that the ocean?”
“Of course. Now we just set these up over here…” He put the recliners down and unfolded the first. The second went right beside it, then he took the small case from her and set it between the chairs. “Come over here a minute,” he said. He reached for her hand and led her to the edge of the cliff.
Cautiously she peered down at the water breaking against the stone more than a hundred feet below. “It’s a long way down.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’re not going down there, and we’re not jumping. We’re just going to make a wish.” He pulled out his wallet and removed two large coins. Examining both of them in the fading light, he selected one and handed it to her. “Here. This one’s for you. It’s from the year you were born.”
Her eyes grew big. “This is a silver dollar,” she breathed. “A real silver dollar. I haven’t seen one in years. God! It’s worth—”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. They’re both real silver dollars, and I got them just so we could make our wishes here. Whoever we’re making these wishes to needs to know we mean business. Now— when you throw it, do it like you were skipping a stone. Get it as far out into the ocean as you can.” He hefted his own dollar, formulating his wish. Beth had a momentary look of deep concentration as she did the same, then her face cleared as well.
“Ready?” When she nodded, he turned and cocked his arm, ready to send the coin sailing out above the waves. “On three. One... two... three!” and with that, both of the bright coins went out into the setting sun, flashing reflections of the reddening light until they fell into the water and were gone.
“I wished—” she began.
“Hssht!” he said, stopping her. “Got to keep it secret or it can’t come true.” He sat in the right-hand recliner, picked up the case and began to unzip it. “Now we share another bottle of wine as we watch the sun go down.”
☼☼☼
Waking up the next morning seemed to be particularly difficult. Couldn’t have been the wine, he thought. I had no problems driving home. And I slept like a log.
Suddenly his eyes popped wide open. He was moving his tongue around in his mouth and he now had more teeth than he’d had in years. A lot more teeth. Cautiously he reached up and felt his hair. It seemed a lot thicker. Came farther down his forehead, too. His heart began to pound.
Carefully, slowly, he rolled over so he was facing Beth just as he had the previous morning. Now, though, she was blonde, young Beth. His heart was still pounding, but after a period of slow, steady breathing, it assumed a more normal rhythm. Sort of.
Her left eye fluttered open, then both of them opened wide. She saw him and almost levitated out of the bed. “What the—!”
George reached out a steadying hand. “Easy! It’s just me.”
She was sputtering, quivering with anxiety. “But what... how... what the hell’s going on? You’re young!”
George smiled, faking a calmness he didn’t really feel. “You ought to see yourself.”
“What... what do you mean? What do I look like?” She reached up and began feeling her face with her fingertips.
“You look just like the girl I met almost fifty years ago. Come on.” He slid out of bed and waited for her to join him, heedless of their nudity. When she reached him, he took her by the hand and led her into the bathroom, where they stood at the sink and looked into the mirror together.
“Jesus God,” she breathed. “We’re kids!”
“Sure looks that way.” George kept sneaking looks at a lot more than just Beth’s face, but he was working hard to keep from letting his interest show. It was a losing battle; his teenage body was reacting in an utterly predictable fashion.
Beth looked down at the proof of his interest and said, “Forget it, George. I don’t know whether we’re dead, hallucinating or what, but you’re not doing anything with that until I know what’s going on. If then. Remember, you promised.” She tried to leave the mirror, but he held on to her hand.
“Yes, I did, and I meant it. I can’t help the reaction. But there is one thing I want to do right now.” He pulled her closer, took her by the shoulders and kissed her seriously.
She resisted, not strongly, for a moment, then pulled free of his lips and just huddled to his chest. “What’s happened to us?” she whispered.
“I don’t know. You mentioned two possibilities. But maybe we really are kids again. Our bodies, anyway.” He continued to hold her, his hands unmoving on her back.
“But why?” Then she paused. “What did you wish for last night?”
He smiled wryly. “Pretty much this, to be honest. You?”
“Me, too. But that was just...”
“Maybe not. It does seem to be what’s happened.” He looked around the bathroom. “Nothing else seems to have changed.”
She let out a long breath. “I need coffee. Lots of coffee. Maybe with a shot of whiskey in it, but coffee for sure.”
In the kitchen, George busied himself with the coffeemaker while Beth stood, staring out the picture window in the breakfast nook. “George, do you get much heavy fog here?”
“Hm? Sometimes, yeah. I’ve seen it so thick at times that you can’t see the fence. Cup or mug?”
“Mug, please. Have you ever seen it pea-soup thick from the fence on out and clear inside?”
George stopped as he was setting up the mugs and looked out at what she was seeing. “My God! No, never like that. I mean, I’ve had it that thick before, but clear as a bell and then beginning right at the fence? Never. What’s going on?” He took a deep breath, let it out. “Still want that whiskey?” The mugs were ready otherwise, and the coffee machine was just about finished making the pot.
Beth turned away from the window. “No, I think I’ll pass. Did you get us a card?” she asked, reaching for an envelope on the table. On its face was written, in beautiful, flowing copperplate script, ‘Beth and George.’ She showed it to him.
“Nice thought,” he said as he took it from her. “But no, it’s not from me.” He slit the envelope open and handed it back. She pulled out a card, opened it and began reading.
Suddenly she stopped, closed the card emphatically and handed it to George. “This needs to be read out loud. In Rod Serling’s voice. We have definitely entered the Twilight Zone.”
George opened it and read it for himself:
Your wishes have been granted, although you realize that by now. Outside the fog, it is the beginning of August, 1966. Once
you go through the fog, you will have twenty-four hours in which to decide what course of action you wish to follow. You can
remain in 1966 and your lives will proceed normally from then, along whatever track you may elect to take. Or you can return to
the house and when you wake up the next morning, you will be back in 2016 at your real ages. If you remain in 1966 for more
than twenty-four hours, you have made your choice and the house will be gone.
Choose wisely!
Carefully, George set the card down on the table. “No signature,” he said.
Beth sat heavily in a chair. “Do we really care? Whoever it is was able to do all this,” she said, as she waved a hand at both of them. “I think I can ignore the metaphysical questions in favor of actual data.”
He brought mugs of coffee over to the table. “I can’t argue with that. Here, in the living room or out on the patio?”
She considered that for a moment, then said, “Living room. I’d love to go outside, but frankly, I’m a bit leery of going out before I’m dressed and ready. Just in case. I don’t feel like being eighteen again in a strange place with nothing more to my name than one of your bathrobes.” She plucked at the fabric with her free hand to emphasize her meaning as she stood.
Settling into her chair in the living room, she took several minutes before speaking. “I... I really don’t know what to do. Part of me just wants to stay here with you in this house as long as the food holds out. Another part of me wants to go out, spend the day having fun and then come back, ready to go back to our old lives.”
George finished the thought. “Uh-huh. And at least for me, there’s a part that wants the two of us to leave here and never look back.” He looked like he was going to say more, but he didn’t. After a moment, he took another sip of his coffee.
Beth held her mug in both hands, took a long sip and set it down, folding her hands in her lap before she spoke. “Yes. Leave and never look back. Try doing it over again, avoiding the mistakes we made before.”
“We weren’t a mistake,” George interjected.
She looked at him and smiled warmly. “Well, yes and no. Our meeting wasn’t a mistake. Our dating wasn’t. But then we went our separate ways, and that, I think, was a mistake.”
“A huge mistake, for me.”
“Me, too.” She took another drink of her coffee, then drained her mug and set it back down. “But the real question is where we go from here.” She stood up and reached for his hand. “Right now, we don’t have to decide our future. Come on. Now that I know what’s going on, this is one mistake I can remedy right now. We can remedy.”
She led him back to the bedroom. Just before she climbed back into bed, she said, “Just keep one thing in mind, George. Yes, I’ve had plenty of experience, but this body is virgin. Go gently.”
☼☼☼
“Well, I’m less sore than I remember being,” she said. “Now. We’ve got a choice to make.”
George had an arm thrown over his face. “Well, there is this one position—”
She slapped his arm. “Be serious, damn it. That’s not what I mean and you know it. We’ve got plenty of time for that, no matter what we choose to do. I mean do we stay here, do we go out and come back, or do we leave and keep on going?”
“No internet. No Facebook. No email.”
“No Social Security checks. No unlimited long distance. No cellphones.”
He snorted. “No computers, for all intents and purposes. No satellite TV, no plastic zipper bags, no TSA at the airports.”
“Sounds like paradise,” she murmured. George began humming. “What’s that song?” she asked. “It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.”
“If I Can’t Have You. Yvonne Elliman,” he responded. “Gist of it is that if I can’t be with you, I don’t want anyone else. I’m plenty willing to go and not come back, but only if you’re with me.”
“Oh, trust me, George. I’m not going alone. Or with anyone else. Been there, done that. If I go, it’s because we go together.” She rolled over and snuggled close to him.
“So we’re agreed? We’re going out there, together, to do it all again?” He caressed her back absently.
She took a deep breath. “Yes, we’re agreed, and college starts in a couple of weeks. We’ve got plenty of time to get to campus. I don’t think we’re due there until the last Monday of the month, if I recall correctly. Now before we go shower, what was that position you were going to bring up? I think you’re ready to go again.”
☼☼☼
Beth stood up and stretched. “Okay, my suitcases are packed again. How are you doing?”
George looked longingly at a few more items in the closet, but they were all modern and he figured he didn’t dare try to take them. Clothing and basic toiletries, those were pretty much it. “Done. I think. Is there anything in the house you want to take? This is our last chance.”
She reached for his hand. “Let’s go through it together.”
They spent close to a half-hour going through the house carefully, room by room. Most of the items either one thought of taking were too obviously modern, and neither of them was prepared for the potential hassle of introducing such an anomaly—or having the item vanish. Finally they settled on two coffee mugs and one small sculpture. “I’ll lose this little chipmunk if I have to,” George said, “but if I leave it, I lose it anyway, and I love it. It’s not like it’s dated anywhere.”
“And mugs are just mugs,” she added. “Let’s hit the garage. Anything out there?”
“Just cash and jewelry in the safe,” he told her. “I figure we’ll take all the cash and whatever jewelry you like.” He opened the door to the garage and stopped dead. “That was a 2014 Honda Pilot just yesterday.” A 1963 Jeep CJ-5 sat in the garage bay.
Beth shrugged. “We’ve still got four-wheel drive to get us out of here and more important, we’ve got wheels we can use without getting stared at by everybody. I kind of expected something like it after looking at the cash in my wallet. It’s all old-style money, now. Whoever, or whatever, did this to us really did it up right.”
Closing the safe reluctantly, George lifted the suitcases to carry them around and set them in the back of the Jeep. “I guess... this is it. Shall we?” He opened the passenger door for Beth.
The keys in his pocket fit the Jeep and the control on the wall still opened the garage door, which was good. It was a very heavy door. When George had pulled clear of it, though, he found that he had no control to close it. “Damn!” He got out and closed the door with the remote on the outside wall. Climbing back into the Jeep, he spent a long time just sitting, looking at the house. Finally, he looked at Beth and again marveled at how gorgeous she was to his eyes as a teenager. “Ready?”
She reached over and put her hand on top of his, on the gearshift. “Together.” With both hands on the lever, they shifted the Jeep into first and began to roll. As they entered the fog, Beth said, “We’re not looking back. We’re together. We’re not coming back. Let’s go.”
Site powered by Weebly. Managed by Dot5Hosting