When you travel around time as much as I do, you begin to realize that all it takes to screw up is just one bad moment. Of course, you don't have to travel in time to screw up, but believe me, when you make a mess there - it's a real screw up . . .
When I first started, I never thought about time and the differences in time. The old Star Trek 'space-time-continuum paradox' never entered my mind. If it had, I doubt it would have made any difference. For every paradox there's an equally compelling treatise on why there are no paradoxes. No, messing with the effects of changing things in time didn’t scare me. But what was becoming a real possibility was the chance that I could end up as part of a weird science special someday… the one where the advertising says "Come see the half-human, half-tree." In all of my trips, I have been either extremely lucky or extremely stupid (or both) because I have never even come close to popping into a place that I shouldn't. Now, the older I get and the more I think about it, the more I believe the law of averages are going to catch up with me. Sooner or later, it has to happen. I don't take flipping so lightly anymore.
The three enter my shop, located in a back corner of the old Red Lion Inn. They hesitated, as it seems everyone does at the transition from the brightness of the summer Berkshire sun to the eternal darkness of the shop. No matter how many lamps I used or how white the walls, it stays dark in my shop. The elderly lady I had seen before, but never in the shop. The two children, well - they may have been her children but they weren't kids - I had never seen. The boy/man looked to be about thirty. He stood straight and tall, eyes bright and alert, always on the lookout for something. The girl, for that's what she was - although she may have been as old as the man - was just the opposite. She stood stooped, eyes dull and moving jerkily over everything. I doubted if she really saw half of what she looked at.
The old woman, Mrs. Jenkins if memory served me right, went off looking at the curtains and lace that lined my far south wall. Her son, I believe I heard his name was Will, kept a close eye on the girl. While he didn't hover over her, he never drifted too far away and always in sight. The old antique fishing gear in the corner finally got him, though, and after another quick look around the room and at the girl, he nodded to me and gravitated toward the fly-fishing rig hung on the wall.
I continued to sit on my small stool behind the counter, watching all three as they explored my unusual items. But it was the girl that fascinated me. I had heard about Holly. About the woman that was still a little girl and always would be. About the tragedy that had befallen the Jenkins family and the effect on the whole town. It had not been easy, finding out about the girl I had never seen and only once heard. Small towns keep their secrets well and New England small towns never surrender theirs. When queried about the young lady I had heard behind the closed rectory doors, all I could get in response from my customers was stony silence. Even after fifteen years in the same house I can only get "Oh, that's only Holly. Best be leaving Holly alone." So I had. And now, here she was, in my shop.
I slid from my seat and very cautiously worked my way around to where Holly stood, her eyes darting around and her head keeping time like a chicken's neck. I kept in front of her so that she could see me coming the whole time. I didn't want to surprise her and cause any alarm. She never stopped moving, but she didn't seem afraid of me either.
"Hello. My name is Mr. Metcalf. Is your name Holly?" I asked gently and quietly. She only stood and stared at my nose. "Holly." I repeated. "Is your name Holly? It's a lovely name."
"MMMMMBBUURRRAKKKKK!! GALSHIDOINK!! BROOOSHIDONG!! AH-HA-HA-HA-HEEEEEEEEE!!" she suddenly erupted, bouncing me back on my heels.
"Yes, it is, Miss Holly." Came a quiet, strong voice from behind me.
"MMMMMBBUURRRAKKKKK!! GALSHIDOINK!! BROOOSHIDONG!! AH-HA-HA-HA-HEEEEEEEEE!!" Holly repeated, and then began to bounce around like an Indian on the warpath, her strong young legs pumping up and down while her head jerked in rhythm.
"It is true, Miss Holly, yes." Repeated the voice. "I know. Yes, it does look like rain. No, I don't thing it will snow again today, Miss Holly."
I don't know how he got all of that from what Holly had said, but I did know it hadn't snowed this day, after all, it was the twenty-second of July, the middle of summer.
Holly seemed to understand him and stopped prancing. She stood still and waited for him to come around and put his hand in hers, which is exactly what he did.
"I..I..I'm sorry if I startled Miss. Holly." I stammered. "I didn't mean to frighten her, only to make her acquaintance. Hello, I'm John Metcalf." I said, extending my hand in what I hoped was a gesture of friendship. The man looked me in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity before slowly extending his own hand. "My name is Will Jenkins. This is my sister, Miss Holly."
"Hello, Will, nice to make your acquaintance. I apologize for frightening Miss Holly. I had no intention of ever causing a problem."
"Not a problem, Mr. Metcalf. Miss Holly can be a bit excitable, that's all. She actually enjoys it when someone calls her by her name. Not many here do."
"Well, I'll have to do it more often, then. What do you have to say to that, Miss Holly?" I asked turning toward her. Even though I had heard her speak earlier, I was not prepared for the sounds that erupted from Miss Holly. It sounded like a cacophony of barnyard animals, all quacking, squealing, barking, chirping, and cawing at once. She finished it by yelling BANDAWDDI!! at the top of her lungs and then just as suddenly closing her mouth, walking over to my stool, sitting down, and not saying another word.
I could only hope that the astonishment I felt didn't flow to the exterior and show as blushed embarrassment. I used my tongue to quickly make sure my mouth had not dropped open - although I don't quite know what I would do of it had.
"I think she likes you." Said Will, his eyes taking in the color of my cheeks and the way the hairs on the back of my head were standing straight out. "She's giving you the royal treatment today."
"Well, I am honored, sir." I replied to Will. Turning toward Miss Holly, I gave a small bow, to which she paid no attention.
"Well, ye' outta be." I heard the screechy voice of what could only be Mrs. Jenkins. "T'ain’t every day that Miz Holly takes a shine to anything. An' even when she does, it t'ain’t long 'fore she gets angry wif'um an' spits in their eye."
"Now momma, Miss Holly has never spit, intentionally anyway, in anyone's eye. I'm sure you're going to scare poor Mr. Metcalf to death with these tales."
Straightening from my bow to Miss Holly, I turned and faced the svelte figure of Mrs. Jenkins. She too, had sharp eyes that looked at everything, missing nothing. Her features were as sharp as her sight and almost as sharp as her tongue. "I t'ain’t tellin' no tale, boy. 'N don' you go sayin' and makin' as I am. Don' you argue with yourn ma, now boy".
"No ma'am. I was just meaning that Miss Holly couldn't hurt even if she was to spit in someone's eye, that’s all."
"Mrs. Jenkins, my dear lady. How nice to make your acquaintance. I have never had the pleasure of being properly introduced. Please, allow me. Hello, my name is Metcalf… John Metcalf." I held out my hand, palm up, waiting on what I hoped would be a hand, palm down, wrist extended. Mrs. Jenkins just looked at me before deciding on her course of action. "Ye already seem to know everybody here. My son Will done gone an' introduced himself and his sister. Ye called me by my marri'd name. So I t'ain’t t'all sure why you got your hand all stretched out like that. But I'll play 'long as'n ye already waitin'." She said as she extended her right hand out, palm down, broken at the wrist. I gently grasped her fragile hand in mine and brought it to my lips. Not a quick peck like you would expect, but a controlled, conditioned, lingering kiss of her wrist as if it were the most wonderful thing in my possession. After a moment, I gently released her hand back to her side.
"Well," she said "I can certainly see why there's all the gossip in this town."
I didn't know what to say. Mrs. Jenkins quickly gather up her two children and the three of them left the shop before I was even able to think a suitable reply.
-------- *************** ----------
It was another two weeks before I saw Holly again. This time she was with Will outside the Mews, a Main Street cul-de-sac of shops, and its neighboring byway that marks the spot of the original Alice's Restaurant of Arlo Guthrie fame. Before I could cross the street they had disappeared.
-------- *************** ----------
Another two weeks and I haven’t seen a trace of them, not that I’ve been looking, mind you. But I can’t help getting the feeling that I have not been forgotten. It’s little consolation that no other customers came in to my little shop. I even considered flipping back to the day they came in, but that would be foolish and serve no real purpose.
It was the tinkle-tinkle of the bell above my door that got my attention. I was in the small area I call my kitchen, arranging a spot of tea when they came in. Both stopped immediately after entering, letting their eyes adjust to the dark. I waited a minute until the water was steaming then added two cups to my tray and carried it out past the beaded curtain into the sales area.
“Good afternoon Master Will, Miss Holly. Would you care to join me in a cup of hot tea?”
"MMMMMBBUURRRAKKKKK!! GALSHIDOINK!! BROOOSHIDONG!! AH-HA-HA-HA-HEEEEEEEEE!!" Holly shouted.
I was ready this time. “Yes, Miss Holly.” I said. “Hot tea, with cream and sugar if you like.”
She went straight to my stool and sat down as she did the last time.
“Like I said, I think she likes you.” Will said as he came around the corner of the case where I kept my rings. He slapped me gently on the back and winked as he picked up one of the cups. With experienced hands, he poured the water into the cup and began to prepare the tea. “She likes tea, too, especially with cream and sugar. You seem to have all the right qualifications.” He laughed.
Will glanced at his sister, who was sitting quietly on my stool, her eyes darting from one shiny object to the next, never really settling on any thing in particular. She seemed to be trying hard to not look at me. I watched her until she finally got around to me. When she did, I knew immediately that I had been wrong about her. She did know what she was looking at. Her eyes started at my feet and quickly spread upward until our eyes met. In that brief time, I knew that she was not the total brain dead vegetable people thought. Then again, I wasn’t really sure what people thought. Maybe it was just me that thought she was brain dead. Looking into her eyes, I could see not just my reflection, but also a deep burning desire and a yearning for understanding.
Will stood back without saying a word. It was obvious that he loved his sister and she him. He was devoted for some reason, giving up his life and individualism for her. “What happened?” I asked. “Was it a youth illness like polio or rheumatic fever? Something traumatic must have happened for her to be in this condition.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “some thing traumatic. Something horrible. Something so damned unnecessarily awful.” Sobs crept into his words as he spoke.
“We were young, I was only seven and Holly was all of five. I’ll never ever forget a minute of it. It flashes across my memory every night, like living next door to a Drive-In and having the movie play all night through every room in your house.
It was the blizzard of ’73. It had snowed for seventeen straight days. Three inches, ten inches, another six. Before you knew it the snow was four foot deep, with drifts covering the tops of some houses. Schools were closed of course, as were most of the businesses in town. Dad was off, he worked as one of the janitors down at the high school. Mom still dressed warm and went uptown to help provide comfort to the crews out trying to clear the streets. The town’s Lady’s Auxiliary provided coffee and food to those men at the hospital.
Dad decided that since this was going to be a storm to remember, we’d might as well enjoy it. He dressed us in our snowsuits, got the sled out from the shed, the big one with the curled front and big runners. It must have been six feet long. He sat us on it and pulled us all the way to the high school. Past the rear of the building there is a big hill between the baseball field and the football field. In the winter it was popular with the kids to sleigh ride on because it was a long hill, wide and steep. Even young kids could claim a patch of ground and ride safely without fear because there was nothing at the bottom but the flat baseball field. You could ride forever across that – indeed, one of our favourite games was trying to see who could go the farthest.
The place was packed by the time we got there and we saw plenty of our neighbours. The center area was overflowing with riders, young and old. We moved down the line until we found an empty spot near one end of the hill. Dad would get on the sleigh and then I would and finally Holly in front. We’d push off the top with all our strength and head down, arms in the air, screaming like banshees. That old sled was too big for normal sled riding, but with the deep powder we had then, it was perfect. It might have been big and heavy on dirt, but those runners sat on top the snow just fine, and once she got going, she could fly. We must have set a dozen distance records that day without really trying. Those are the ones you remember most.
Everyone wanted a ride on our sled and we let ‘em. We really had a ball that day. That is, until it happened.
We’d been riding over mostly the same path all day, keeping to the same trough area. Down toward the bottom of the hill, just before it began to flatten out, there was a bump. Nothing serious, more like a mogul on the ski slope, Nobody’d given it much thought except to see if we could get bounced off the sled when we hit it. No one ever was. We’d almost finished for the day, but Holly and I wanted one more ride, alone. Dad was tired but I insisted. Yeah, I know. It’s that ‘one more’ of anything that gets you killed. How were we to know?
I got on first like always and Holly climbed on next. Dad gave us a little push and off the top of the hill we came. Holly raised her hands as usual and began to scream. I couldn’t see where we were going but it didn’t matter, the old sled had been down the hill a hundred times that day and knew the way. About half way down the sleigh began to shake, then it began to shake a lot. Holly stopped screaming for joy and began screaming with fear. She grasped one of my legs for support as the sleigh continued its way down the hill, gaining speed, except now we were starting to slide sideways. The shaking was intense when all of a sudden the sleigh just seemed to stop. It paused in its downward journey, but we didn’t. In an instant Holly was gone and I found myself flung sideways down the hill. The sleigh, with no one in it to keep it anchored to the earth, began to roll down the hill after us. Now being flung from a sled is all part and parcel to the joy of sledding. There is implied risk when you go sledding and it’s not entirely unusual to return home with bruises and scrapes, sometime even a broken bone. Seeing the sleigh disintegrate before his eyes didn’t necessarily disturb dad. Seeing it bounce over and in front of his two children did cause him some concern, however, as we were likely to roll into the debris and suffer serious injury. But that didn’t appear to be a cause for concern either because the runner on the sleigh had snagged something toward the bottom of the hill causing the sleigh to be tossed around in a circle and away from the tumbling kids.
As for me, well, everything was going so fast I didn't really have time to understand exactly what was happening at any particular moment. I was tumbling head over heels backwards down the hill. When I was facing the right way I could see Holly flipping ahead of me. All of a sudden she stopped. Two seconds later I ploughed right into her. Since I was coming down backwards and Holly was rolling forwards when she stopped, it was my back that hit Holly right in her rear end. Hit her so hard that it knocked the breath right out of me, even through the snowsuit. I heard a crack! and knew it was my spine giving way. In the pain and confusion I saw dad running, sliding, screaming down the hill after us. I winced and tried to move my back, knowing the instant I did that I would break into two pieces like those characters in the cartoons, but instead it felt ok - painful - but together. 'Holly - you alright?' I whispered. When she didn't answer I tried turning my head to ask again. It was then that I saw something I'll remember all my life. It haunts me every night when I sleep - if I sleep.
I couldn't see Holly's head. All I could see was red against the brilliant white of the snow. Holly's head was gone."
"Gone!" I gasped. "How was that possible! Why, Holly wouldn't be here now if you actually saw what you say you saw."
"It is what I saw - what I believed I saw! Holly was kneeling away from me, her head - or where her head was supposed to be - was gone, replaced by a redness above the neck. That is what I saw, At least, that is what I see in my nightmares every night. It's what I remember."
"But that can't be the whole story!" I exclaimed. "Miss Holly is obviously here, with a head. There must be more than that to the story!"
"So you want it all, do you? The whole sordid thing with all the detail? Why??! Why do you care about the little vegetable girl? What is she to you?"
"Yes! I do want the details, I want to know. Why?? I can't really say. I may not know exactly. I do know I care about her though, and I think you already know that or you wouldn't have come back here or told me as much as you have."
"She wanted to come. Not me. She sometimes gets a mind of her own and can be as stubborn as any other woman."
I started to snap another smart remark when I realized what I was doing. "I'm sorry. This must be painful for you. Please forgive me for demanding anything of you or your sister. I care for her, that's all I know, and it is frustrating not knowing the what as well as the why."
"Well then, you shall have the what and the why." Will continued. "Once I saw that scene, I passed out cold. According to my dad, I just sort of slumped over and lost consciousness. At first he thought I was the one hurt, until he saw Holly.
Holly was sitting facing down the hill. What had once been the bump we had all delighted in sliding over was the thing that had grabbed the runner from the sled and ripped it off. The bump was no longer covered with snow, it lay open, exposed. The snow was much deeper than anyone realized on the hill that day. What I had taken for blood was in reality the top part of a four foot tall fire hydrant. It had been placed there to provide a source of water for the fire department in case the school ever caught fire. Holly had come up against the base of the pole while tumbling down the hill. She must have hit pretty hard - enough to knock herself out. When I hit I really did the damage. That CRACK! I'd heard when I drove my back into Holly was not my back breaking - though I've wished to God so many times that it was. No. It was Holly's neck breaking in three places. The reason I never saw her head was because it just plopped down below the lining of her coat - resting on the snow. Ohh God - why couldn't it had been my back instead?!?!" Will sobbed. "I'm responsible for her being like this. I'm the one that wanted 'one-more-ride', the one that didn't hold on to her when she fell of the sled. I'm the one that smashed into her, breaking her neck against that firepole!"
"Oh, Will, it wasn't your fault. You were only seven years old. You can't blame yourself. I'm sure your parents didn't. What happened to your dad?"
It took a few moments before Will could continue. He stood still, looking down at his feet or glancing upward at Miss Holly's face. He never looked in my direction at all. "I don't remember any of this because I passed out when I saw Holly. I can only tell you what others have told me. To have both kids unconscious was probably scary enough, but when dad found Holly he just went nuts. It took three other men to restrain him from attacking that hydrant. It's still there, by the way, still at the end of the field were we went sledding. Anyway, like I said, dad went crazy. Those other three kept him away while others came in to take a look at us. I think they expected us to be dead, from what I can tell from people's talk. One of them was a member of the volunteer fire department so he had some emergency medical training. He was the one that recognized the extent of Holly's injuries and probably saved her life.
They called the rescue squad and they came and took all three of us to the hospital. Holly was by far the most serious injury that they had ever dealt with so they kept bringing in specialists to aid in diagnosis and recovery. The hospital provided me with all kinds of shrinks, books, and help in explaining why it wasn't my fault Holly would never be Holly again. Yeah, right.
But the one they should have watched out for was Mom. Once the experts put Holly back together and determined that she would never be able to walk, talk, or understand what you said to her, mom never let dad and I forget that this was our fault. Dad's for taking us and not providing 'adult supervision' and mine for being a big baby all the time.
She must never have eased up on dad because two years later to the day they found him hanging from his belt in the basement. He wrote me a letter that same night, which he stuffed under my pillow like the tooth fairy leaving money. He tried to explain why he was doing it and why he didn't feel any of us were responsible for Holly's accident. He felt that somebody oughtta be responsible though, so he would be. He figured that if he took the blame, then Mom, God, and the rest of the townsfolk would stop blaming me. It wasn’t my fault, he said. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an accident. He said he figured if he died for this tragedy, then it would be over. They’d put Holly in a hospital where’d she get the proper help and mom could stop blaming me.
Poor dad. He just didn’t get it. It didn’t matter if he was there to share the blame or not. It wasn’t really about him – or me for that matter. No… for mom it was about her – and what would those nosey-assed neighbours say about her guilt. Where was she when her son and daughter were seriously hurt? Why, serving the city troops of course. There could be no guilt on her. She was guiltless. She hadn’t told that slow-witted idiot to get out that huge old sled and take those two innocent children sleighing down that dangerous hill, especially over and over a fire hydrant! Why! She had more sense than that – yessir.
Mom ended up blaming me for dad’s death, too. ‘Ya see what cha’ did t’ ya’ sister!??! ‘ she’d shout when she really felt low or angry, which was most of the time. ‘Ya’ see?! Even ya’ poor ole dad couldn’t take ya’ sight. He killed ‘imself jes’ t’ git rid of us, boy. Just t’ leave me ‘ere alone with nothin’ but a twit an’ a turnip!!!’ And with that she’d slam off to bed, leaving Holly and me to our own devices.
I learned to take care of Holly and myself pretty quick. Mom never really put any effort into the job after that. Soon, I was taking care of mom too. The neighbours never stepped up to help, at least that I know. Eventually I just grew into the job.”
I looked at Will and tried to imagine the pain and sacrifice the family must have suffered, especially Will. He stared me back in the eye, not blinking. “And don’t think I did it out of some misplaced sense of guilt or loyalty. Oh sure, it may have started that way –after all – I was only nine when dad died. But it’s more than that now. It’s about Miss Holly – Holly. I really care for her as my sister. I can really understand her and I believe she can understand me too.”
“I know.” I said. “I can tell. She trusts you. And you seem to have an uncanny ability to communicate.”
"MMMMMBBUURRRAKKKKK!! GALSHIDOINK!! BROOOSHIDONG!! AH-HA-HA-HA-HEEEEEEEEE!!" Holly shouted.
I jumped a mile. Will laughed saying “I think Miss Holly is getting bored. We’ve ignored her for the past few minutes.” Will went ahead a poured tea for us all. We sat and traded small talk for a while, with Will helping Miss Holly to sip her tea. She seemed to totally trust him, only once vigorously shaking her head ‘NO’ when he tried to only put two lumps of sugar in her tea. “She likes three.” He said, “But I try to ween her from so much sugar a once.”
They stayed and visited for over an hour, finally Will and Miss Holly realized it was getting dark and it was time to go. Out they went, with Will promising to return with Miss Holly for another visit soon.
That night I lay awake thinking about the problems that had prevailed in the Jenkins’s life. It was a sorry story that begged for forgiveness. And I could help. It wouldn’t take much for me to flip back to that day in 1971. Maybe one guy riding a sled down the hill at the same time as Will and Holly. A slight nudge - or maybe go down before they do and block the bump where the fire hydrant stands for that ‘one-more-ride’. So easy it would be. And no one would ever know. What harm would it do to help one little girl from having a horribly tragic accident. What harm indeed?
I made up my mind to do it as soon as I could. First things first though and I wanted to scout out the area where Will had said the accident took place. I left the old Inn and turned right, crossing Elm Street by the library and continued on toward Plain School, a block or so down. Main Street was the main thoroughfare through town. Route-7 came up from the south, starting at an exit on I-95 in Connecticut and continuing all the way to heaven in Maine. It ran right next to the west side of the Inn to where Main Street shared more than just its name. Route 7 had been an old stage coach road and the Red Lion Inn had been a stage stop. The portion of Main Street between the Inn and Plain School where Route 7 again split to the north was part of that stage road as well. Those were grand times in Stockbridge. An aura of grand times and gracious living still lingers at Naumkeag, the 26-room gabled mansion, designed by Stanford White in 1885, and the summer home of Joseph Hodges Choate, a noted attorney and ambassador to England at the turn of the century. His house stands as a tourist attraction for folks out enjoying the Berkshire hospitality.
I turned right when I reached the school property and walked through the parking lot to the rear of the building where the ball fields were. The view from here was breathtaking. I had never been to the school before but I knew that many people spoke of the view, especially in the fall when the leaves were colored with natures' paintbrush. Laurel Hill was visible in the distance and the hills were alive with greenery. Since it was July school was out, but that didn't mean the place was empty. In fact, just the opposite. Both fields were in use not just by one group but by several groups of soccer playing kids, their parents, baseball games, and picnics. People were everywhere and from what I gathered, the place was busy morning, noon, and night, seven days a week. I would have to be real careful, I thought. Maybe even do it late at night, when no one was around. After all, it might seem odd if I showed up dressed in hat and coat in the middle of July.
It was no problem to find the fire hydrant just where Will had described it. The monstrosity rose at least four feet off the ground, with its four plugs capped high on top. It was hard to believe snow had fallen that deep here on the field to cover that up. My imagination took hold and I could see Holly, her small body hunched there, head bent low against the pole. It wasn't much of a stretch to envision Will sliding into her and driving the fateful blow that had stolen a family's future.
*****************
I couldn't imagine why it was still here, though. If it had proven to be such a public danger, why hadn't they relocated it to a place less dangerous? I suppose they thought the accident a fluke. The thing was four feet tall. How many times would you think snow would be deeper than that? None, I'd bet.
I left the school and headed back toward the Red Lion. The long front porch of the Inn, festooned with rockers, was full of afternoon people-watchers. I would have joined them had there been an open seat or I been inclined to wait. Instead I pushed on through the doors and into the lobby. I loved the old Inn, with its narrow halls and high ceilings. I made my way through the throngs to the rear of the building where my shop was located. On the way I paused at the janitors closet to borrow a flashlight and pair of boots. I would need them later.
I awoke with a jolt from a deep sleep. I had been asleep, yes, but it had not been restful. There had been no dream that I could remember, but I was tired and just wanted to go back to sleep. Instead I swung one leg over the edge of the bed and onto the bare wooden floor. I could have had the floor cover in rugs, but I rather enjoyed the smooth feel of the wood. The second leg came over to join the first and together they traveled in unison to the bathroom where I showered and shaved and made ready for another whole day.
It was still dark outside when I slipped out the front door of the little shop - I never knew my door squeaked until then. I silently made my way along the gravel parking lot at the rear of the Inn and through the Mews to the path between the old houses along Main Street. I didn't want to go down Main because that would invite exposure. I reached the school without waking any dogs, always a good sign for a burglar. I went down the to where the fire hydrant stood tall and proud in the moonlight. I climbed up on top the hydrant and sat uncomfortably, looking at the stars above, thinking of what Will had told me about that day. One by one the stars begin to wink out, replaced by softly falling snowflakes on my face. I glanced around to discover that it had happened, just like all the other times - simply think of it and it will happen. Where the stars had been was now a dull blanket of gray, extending up and down as far as I could see. Snow covered about three inches of my lap as I sat on top the hydrant, the rest hidden by snow. I hopped off the hydrant into snow up to my waist. It was deep. I pulled a small folding shovel from my coat and began to dig the snow from area around the hydrant. My plan was simple; dig out the hydrant so everyone would see it - they would steer clear of it, and no one would be hurt this day. I worked for an hour digging a circle two-foot wide around the hydrant when it became obvious I was going to have to continue digging or lose the fight to the blowing, falling snow. The wind had picked up a bit so I went up to the corner of the school where I could get some relief. I bundled myself up well and leaned back against the building for support and closed my eyes.
I woke up when I heard a man shout "Come on kids, I'm tired and it's time to head home." and a child's voice respond "Aw, dad. Just one more time? Please? Just Holly and me? Please?"
*****************
"Oh, alright, but just one more time. I don't think that old sled has too many more times left in it."
I opened my eyes just in time to see a young boy jump for joy and hop on a huge sleigh. Another, younger child got on top and their dad began to turn them and push them down the hill. I ran out from the cover of the corner of the building to see if my handiwork was still there, exposing the monster fire hydrant. To my shock, there was nothing but white showing down the hill. Where I had spent the hour clearing the snow had done nothing more that create a small hump around the fire hydrant. The blowing, drifting snow had quickly cover my effort as if it had never happened. And then I had fallen asleep all day!
The sled had began it's descent down the hill before I could gather my wits about me. All I could do was to start yelling and running, sliding down the hill toward the hydrant. I wanted to get there before that sled did, maybe I could still prevent the accident from happening.
The people around me must have thought me a drunk, because one reached out to grab me just as I hit the top of the hill. Together we tumbled and rolled a little ways down the hill before being stopped by the deep powder. "Whoa there, take it easy, mister." Said the wayward Samaritan. "You're going to break your neck running down a steep slick hill like that."
I sat up, cover with snow, helpless as I watched the sled carrying the two children make its fateful run. I could see the sled began to shake as one of the runners began to come loose. The loose runner began to oscillate back and forth, causing the sled to shake even more and then to turn sideways. I saw the girl on the front begin to scream and grab the little boy for support- but there was no support. The sled threw them off like a bucking horse swatting a fly. The little girl went first, rolling just like a cue ball toward the place where the hydrant was buried. The boy right behind her, rolling backwards. "Oh, Please!" I thought, "Please!" But it was no use to plead. Just as Will had described, the sled now continued it's decent down the hill after the children. It hit once, then bounced over the rolling kids and right on top of the mound where the hydrant lay buried. The loose runner acted like a knife, slicing the packed snow around the hydrant loose. When the sled made its final bounce off the hydrant, it took what would have been a protective layer of snow with it.
Holly never had a chance. I covered my eyes to keep from seeing what I knew was going to happen. I got up just as Will crashed into Holly. I had news for Will, you could hear the CRACK! at the top of the hill too. And he's right - it's something I'll never forget either.
I couldn't think. I needed to get away, to get back home to my shop. So I ran toward the school. While everyone else was running toward the hill to see what had happened, I was running away from the school to keep from seeing. I ducked into a small casement area between the building and a window. I wanted to go home. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of Holly laying against the hydrant and the sound of Will hitting Holly, but it was hard. Too hard. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn’t leave this time and go home. I needed to relax and settle down. This had never happened to me before. I closed my eyes and saw Holly sitting against the hydrant. I started crying and… slipped… into… darkness.
I awoke once again in darkness. And quiet. I was home. In my shop, curled on the floor in the rear where I lived in the two little rooms. I don't know how I got there. Only that I was and I didn't care how or why. I wanted to stay here forever. I didn't want to go anywhere or see anyone. I had had enough, I closed my eyes and went back to the darkness.
When I awoke I was ravished. I stumbled up from the floor and made it all the way to the bathroom before dry heaving. This had never happened to me before and I was shivering. I made my way back to the kitchen and put on a kettle for tea. While it heated, I went in to the shop to see if I had left the door open when I somehow made it home. The door was closed, but tacked to the inside, next to the lock, was a note addressed to Mr. Metcalf.
"Dear Mr. Metcalf."
"I hope you find this in better spirits than when we found you out by the school. It was Holly that actually found you, she kept pulling me toward that casement by the window. I don't know why you had on such heavy winter clothing in July, but you were burning up, so we brought you to your shop and took it off you. The coat we hung by the door in the rear. We would like to come back and visit you when you are able to take visitors. I pulled the shade of the shop door down. When you are ready, please put it back up and we will come. "
Your friends,
Will and Holly Jenkins
My god, I thought. I had gone out intending to save them. Instead, they saved me while all I could do was watch them get hurt over again.
I didn’t raise the shade for almost a week. I didn’t know what to say to Will when he came so I kept it down. How could I look at Holly knowing that I too had failed in my puny attempt to save her? And worst of all – how could I face myself when I didn’t know if I could try again?
I kept the teapot on just in case they did decide to show up uninvited, but they didn’t. Instead, I found a note tucked under my door one morning. The neat handwriting was the same as the fist note, so I assumed it was from Will. He wrote saying that he and Holly would be in town in a couple of days and, if it were okay with me, they would like to stop for a short visit around four pm. I truly appreciated Wills’ consideration for my feelings and that they had not just ‘popped in’ like some people do. He was sensitive to my plight, but, to be honest, I felt he might be taking it a bit too far.
During the week I kept the shade down I didn’t do anything but sit and think. I had enjoyed a most extraordinary life. I had been able to do things most people could never even dream of - and do it repeatedly. I had been given a gift, no doubt. If it were time to relinquish that gift, well, so be it. I only hoped that I had used it wisely and in the manner it was intended. I figured it was over because no matter how hard I had tried, I couldn’t flip anymore.
They came promptly at four pm, tapping gently on the door as they came into the shop. I was a little disappointed because Holly remained silent, not even giving me the "MMMMMBBUURRRAKKKKK!! GALSHIDOINK!! “ she normally did. Instead she seemed subdued, preoccupied. She looked at me a few times in an odd manner, as if trying to catalogue me.
Will grasped my hand like a long lost brother, one hand in mine and the other on my shoulder. “How are you today, Mr. Metcalf. You’re looking fine, as usual. We hope you’re past that nasty fever you suffered?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you very much for bringing me home. I don’t know why I was at the school that day. It’s not like me to run around in July with a coat on.” I laughed, hoping it would answer all his questions up front. I didn’t want to dwell on the incident. I glanced at Holly to try and gauge any reaction she may have had. She was just sitting quietly, hands clasped together in her lap, looking for all the world like an angel.
“Well,” said Will, “the reason we came by is to inquire as to your availability on Saturday night. Miss Holly and I would be honoured with your company for dinner if possible.”
I was surprised, to say the least. I had been keeping an eye on Holly while Will had been talking. She hadn’t paid any attention to either of us until Will said the word ‘dinner’ when she quickly glanced at me. I had the strangest feeling that Miss Holly understood a lot more than I thought she did. The thought screamed through my head that she knew more than Will understood too. But it disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving only a bitter aftertaste in its place.
“Of course, I am.” I said without a pause to think. “I would be honoured to have dinner with you both, and look forward to Saturday.”
“Please excuse us for not sending a formal invitation. We, that is Miss Holly and I, wanted to see you and thought this would be a good reason to ask.”
“I’m honoured, really. It’s my pleasure to join you.”
“Well, then. I guess we’ll see you on Saturday. Is six pm okay? I forgot to ask!”
“Yes, six is fine.”
“Okay then! Well, Miss Holly, it looks like it’s time to go. We have a lot to do tonight.”
"MMMMMBBUURRRAKKKKK!! GALSHIDOINK!! “ was her answer. I was glad to hear it. At least it meant she was here.
After they had left I sat on my stool and thought for a bit. There was something going on here. I don’t know what it is, but it sure was making me uncomfortable. I enjoyed Will and Miss Holly’s company and I didn’t feel pressured in any way to force a relationship. It wasn’t them. It was everything – the flipping, the inability to concentrate, not coming back from the last flip. I was getting scared.
That night, I flipped again. It happened without warning. The nightmare that was Holly’s ran through my mind as I drifted off to what was surly going to be a troubled sleep. Suddenly, just as their dad released the sled down the hill, I was there.
I don’t know how or why, but I was there. Dressed in nothing but my undies, I was on that hill watching. What the hell, I thought, if I’m here, I might as well try to do something right this time. Before anyone else on the hill was even aware I was there or anything had happened with the Jenkins’s sled, I was off down the hill chasing after it, catching it before the runner could come loose. I grabbed that damned sled and jerked it to a stop, whereas the two kids did come flying off and down the hill. But not like before. This time they only flopped a few feet and came up sputtering with snow covering their faces. I held up that sled and brought it crashing down across my knee – forgetting that I didn’t have any clothes on. The sled broke in two. It was over. Holly was safe.
Mr. Jenkins was the closest and the first to reach me. “What the hell are you doing” he yelled, grabbing me by the shoulder and spinning me around. “Where in the hell’re clothes. What are ya’ Some kind of pervert? Keep the hell away from my kids!” he yelled before he gave me a roundhouse to the jaw that knocked me flat on my back. A swift kick to my feet and I began to slide backwards down the hill. The last thing I remember was hearing a load CRACK! And then darkness.
When I awoke, I thought I was dead. There was no light and no noise … except the clanging of bars somewhere. The blackness came for me again and I went willingly.
It was light when I awoke again. I knew I wasn’t dead because of the pain I was feeling. I hurt all over – especially by head. My hands were free so I used one to do an exploratory. My head was wrapped tight with some type of bandage. My jaw felt broken and my back hurt like hell. Time to go home, I thought. I closed my eyes and thought of my two small rooms back at the Inn, of the teapot and cosy. When I open my eyes, I could still hear the clanging of the bars.
Time had no meaning, but I had recovered enough to realize were I was - jail. They had given me an orange jumpsuit to wear to conceal my nakedness and locked me up, I don’t think I blamed them, What would you do if some stranger suddenly appeared from nowhere wearing nothing but his underwear in the middle of the biggest blizzard of the century. And then it appeared I attacked two innocent children! A calendar on the wall had Jan. 7, 1973 marked on it. I had only been here one day.
“Well, boy… how you feelin’ now? I bet yo’ head is probably not feeling too good right now is it? Well… it don’t matta’ much now anyways. Now come on, boy, I know you’re awake. Up and ready, We got questions and you have answers.”
I remained silent as I opened my eyes and slowly sit up, bracing my back against the cell wall. So I hadn’t talked, hum. Than was good, since I didn’t know what to say anyway.
“You know, boy. You damn lucky you didn’t break your neck on that damned fire hydrant. Come to think of it, we’re probably damned lucky no one broke their damned neck.
So what were you doing out there at the school with no clothes on in this blizzard? You going to talk to us or do we have to go get the needle?”
“Easy, Jack.” One of the other two men said. “Let’s not push too hard – he’s had a bad head wound. He might have a hard time remembering his own name.”
“Oh hush up, dammit. Don’t give him any ideas Dave. Damn!”
Too late Jack. Already thought of it. I may not know much right now, but I know there’s nothing in the world that you can find out about me that I don’t tell you. I suppose it was good that I flipped without any clothes on, at least I didn’t have any ID on me. The way it looks – John Metcalf had amnesia – and would keep it just long enough to remember how to get back home.
The sheriff looked back at the doctor and growled. “Shit. Come on Doc, isn’t there anything you can do? We need to at least find out who he is. If we don’t – well he goes upstate as John Doe and you know what that means… no coming back. And if that prick Jenkins wants to press charges, he’ll not only go as a J.D., but as a child pervert as well.” He looked over at me. “I don’t want to do that.” I said nothing.
All I wanted to do was get home again. This was the last flip. No more. God, get me home and I’ll never ask for anything. I couldn’t wait to get home. I wanted to see Holly. I sort of knew in the back of my mind than Holly may not be there. Things have changed and I didn’t know how much.
“Hey Sheriff!”
“What is it now, Dudley?’
“We got a call. Another from the neighbour of that Jenkins girl, what’s her name – Halley?”
“Goddammit! What the hell is going on with that damned family!! Why in the hell can’t they keep that damned little witch under control? Shit, What is it this time, Dud, she cuss her old man out again and hit ‘im with something? Last time she almost ‘accidently’ killed the bastard when she knocked a car off blocks when he was under it.”
“Not his time Sheriff. It’s her brother, Will. They found him down in the basement with his belt wrapped ‘round his neck – dead.”
“Dead!?”
“Yup. Seems like she – Holly or Halley or whatever her name is – found him in the basement standing on some boxes with his dads belt wrapped ‘round his neck. According to her their dad had taken the belt to him this afternoon after the goings on at the school. Accused him of tryin' ta' make him look like a fool or something. She says she tried to talk him outta it but all he kept sayin’ was something ‘bout being called a ‘pornoking’ and not taking it any more.”
“So she was the last person to see him alive?”
“Seems so Sheriff.”
“Then let’s get her in here. I want’a see her in this cell tonight!”
“Oh come on, Jack!” said the doc. “You can’t arrest a seven-year-old for something like this!”
“Arrest! Who’s arrestin? I just want to talk to her and I gotta be be out for a while. She’ll be save here, right next to the child molester, right Mr. Molester? Between you and me, I think I’d rather’d seen her head bashed against that fireplug than yourn. Maybe we could have rearranged something in there and fixed whatever ails that girl.“ he said as the he and his entourage left the confinement area to go out to the Jenkins’s house, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
I didn’t believe what I was hearing. First the three seemed honestly aggravated with the Jenkins family, Holly in particular. Then the comment calling her a ‘witch’, and now Will dead? With Holly responsible? It wasn’t possible! What the hell was going on with these people? Didn’t they know the sacrifices Will had made for Holly? What about the fact that Will took care of his family after his dad committed suicide? How can they know, John, ol’ chap he thought. They haven’t happened yet. Never will happen now. All that you knew had changed. There was no Holly the turnip. And that meant there was no reason for him to be there. He closed his eyes, So go Dammit! He thought. But not yet.
Shortly after midnight they brought Holly in. She was a small girl, and it was the first time I had seen her close up. I would not have recognized her on the street as the same Holly that came to my little shop with her brother Will. This girl was small, but angry. Her face was pinched in a perpetual growl and her eyes boiled with anger. She took one look at me and screamed “Whatcha lookin’ at, you bastard? Think you found some easy prey for later, hum? I DON’T THINK SO SHITHEAD! Wanna come and get me?? COME ON! Come… get me!” she hissed through dirty, rotten teeth.
“Aye now, let’s settle down, little Holly.” Ain’t no one gonna get you – an’ you ain’t gonna get no one else either, you got that??”
“What’s wrong Dudley, afraid to be left alone with me. I don’t need you Dudley, just like I didn’t need Will no more now. Be careful, ya’ know what happen’d ta’ Will. You saw him hangin’ there.”
“Hush, you damned ole’ witch! I ain’t a-listening to you no more! Settle down and get some sleep. Ya’ gonna be needing it.” Dudley said as he placed Holly in the cell next to mine and scooted up the stairs.
A seven-year-old girl in a jail cell? I couldn’t believe these people. What the hell was coming next? A trial and lynching?
“Oh, believe it sugar lips.” Came the voice from the next cell. “They’s all good upstanding citizens, they are. It’s just they don’t quite know what to do with me, here. Come out, let’s have a look at you, and who you might be? She walked over into the light coming from the bare overhead light. “Step on out here. I’m Holly Jenkins, but you already know that. Don’t you Mr. John Metcalf?”
"Yes, I know your name, at least I think I do. I ain’t quite sure though. You seem strange to me… but I seem to know you somehow. Come on up here in the light and let me look at you." Her little girl sing-song voice both enticing and highly unpleasant.
*****************
I wanted to see her. To grip her and ask her and ask what was going on. So I walked slowly into the light, closer too so that I could see her. "Your name is Miss Holly, isn't it? Miss Holly Jenkins?"
She cackled a laugh that created icy fingers down my already twitchy spine. "Miss Holly? Only my brother Will called me Miss and he ain’t going to be doin’ that ever again, now." She leaned up close to the bars. She was small enough that she could have slipped between the bars had she wanted. "Why'd you think my name was Miss anything? Do you know who I am?" She smiled a little girl smile but with an adult leer behind her eyes "Are we… friends?" Her eyes locked onto mine "Have we met before? Somewhere else, maybe. I do know you. I may only be five years old now, but I remember well. And you I just can't put my finger on."
"No, we've never met." I said, breaking eye contact. It was true too. I didn't know who this version of Holly Jenkins was. She sure wasn't the same girl that came into my shop, even if there were twenty years difference, this little girl scared me, bad.
"Well, now that's too bad. You see, I gotta feelin' that you and me are going to become, shall we say, rather good acquaintances. Ha-ha!"
*****************
"I don't think so Miss Holly. I'm leaving here as soon as I can, and I won't be back."
"Leavin! Why, Mister Metcalf, you ain’t leaving until I'm ready for you to leave. Haven't you figured that out yet? I may not know exactly who you are and where'd you came from, but I will understand it all before you get to leave.
Now the good sheriff is going to come by soon and he's going to let us both out of this dump. When he does, turn left up Main Street 'til you come to a large house with a long white porch - that'd be the Red Lion Inn. Ask for work and hope they give it to you, because you're going to be here a while – an’ iffin’ you a’int, don’t worry about it, I find you – somewhere in time, I’ll find you."
Not if I had anything to do about it. I turned away from her and went and sat on the end of my bunk. She faded back from the light, too, but her eyes were still visible. They stared at me, never blinking. After a few minutes, I ignored them.
Ten minutes later, Deputy Dudley came downstairs and released me, saying it was already to leave, but to stay in town. I had no intention of leaving town - but just when I would stay in town was up for grabs.
I pointed at the girl, attempting to communicate without too many words. "Her mommy's upstairs an' will be coming for her soon, don't worry 'bout 'er."
I didn’t. I was worried about me.
I left the jail wearing the orange jumpsuit and an old coat a drunk had left behind. I took Holly's advice about going the Red Lion Inn, but not about asking for a job. Instead I went around the rear and found the doors where my shop would be in about five years. The space was dark indicating it was empty. I pried the door open, noticing that it didn’t squeak as it slid back against the wall. For once I was glad of the perpetual darkness of the rooms. I stepped in and quickly and quietly shut the door. At least I was home, albeit twenty-so years in the past. The rooms were basically empty, much like the way I found them when I had first rented them. I went in to the room where I had put my bed. In the corner, I took off the coat and lay it out on the floor. My head hurt like hell, but at least there were no unwanted holes in it. I lay down on the coat and closed my eyes. God, how I wanted to be home.
I must have slept for at least twenty-four hours. I didn't have a watch or any way to tell time. Even the sunlight wasn't a good indicator because it was always dark in here. I stumbled to my feet and felt my way to the bathroom. Success.
I made my way slowly to the door. It appeared as if it were just getting dark outside. I opened the door and stepped out onto the empty walkway. Something was wrong here. The Inn looked deserted. For as long as I had been here the Inn never looked empty. I hurried out the rear toward the parking lot. It was empty, overgrown weeds where there had been flowers. I stumbled down the pathway between the Mews and where the cellar bar had been, out onto the sidewalk in front of the Inn. Main Street was busy. I could see cars going up and down the street while people strolled in the early evening warmth. I didn't want to believe what I knew I was going to see, but I had to make sure. I waited for a car to pass by, it's two-tone paint making it look like a bird, and then scooted across Main as fast as I could. When I got the other side, I paused, trying to catch my breath and more importantly, get my wits. In 1956 Norman Rockwell had created a painting called Main Street Stockbridge, USA. It showed a small town main street scene, complete with houses, businesses, people and cars. It really was a picture of Stockbridge at that time. The only oddity was that one house in the picture was not alit with activity. Its windows were dark, the property abandoned. It sat on the corner of Main Street and Route 7. No one understood why he painted it dark like that. I guess no one asked him either. It had been empty for a short time while changing owners and it was thought that Rockwell had passed by during one of those days, become enamored with the way the emptiness of the corner played against the fullness of the rest of the street, and had captured it forever. I turned and looked across the street at the old Red Lion Inn, except it wasn't. It was empty, just like I knew it would be. I had seen this scene before, many times in fact. I had a print of this view hanging over my bed - somewhere - sometime. Rockwell had captured the desolation perfectly. It wasn't alive. The people on the sidewalk ignored it. Even the local drivers refused to be a part of the scene and parked their cars farther down the street. The whole area around the Inn was deserted.
It had to be 1956, I thought. That was the year Rockwell had seen this very sight and painted the picture in his studio. But I hadn't fallen asleep in 1956. It had been 1973 when I flipped in to save Holly. Ha! Save! Right. What a screw-up I had done. As I watched I realized one important difference between what Rockwell had painted and what I was seeing. In Rockwell's painting there was a 1955 Ford traveling down Main Street. The two-toned car that had passed me earlier was now parked down in front of the bank. It appeared to be a 1955 Ford Victoria. But it was not 1956. I knew. Not unless they started making 1997 Chevrolet Impala's like the one coming down Main Street now. It had the bubblegum lights on top and Stockbridge Sheriff's Office on the side. It looked like I had flipped again without knowing it. But this was not home. It might be my time, but something was very, very wrong.
The sheriff’s car pulled up to the curb next to where I was standing. I turned and began to walk down the street toward the bakery. Come to think of it, I was hungry. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten. The officer in the car started to say something to me as I passed, but since he didn’t have his lights on and his windows were up, I ignored his voice and kept walking quickly, as if I had somewhere to be. He acted as if he were going to jump out and yell me down, but he must have thought better of it because he just settled back in the car and took off around the corner. He could have been going around the block for all I knew, so I crossed Main Street back over to the Inn side and made my way through the clear areas back to the empty rooms I had called home. Once in, I locked the door and held my breath, waiting for the sounds of pursuit. Nothing.
I still wore the ugly orange jumpsuit they had given me back in 1976. That must had been what got the police’s attention. If I was staying around here, I needed some new clothes. I checked the pockets, expecting to find nothing and finding what I expected. I went back and checked the old coat pockets too, nothing there either. I lay down and tried to think things through, Alright, here I am in 1997- maybe. No so bad because people should know me. I should have a rather hefty bank account. I don’t have any ID but that hopefully wouldn’t be a problem because I had always did my banking in person. I enjoyed the human contact and had become quite friendly with several of the bank clerks. I’m sure I could cash a bank check and get away with telling them I had ‘forgotten’ my wallet and ID. Okay, so maybe money wasn’t a problem. Getting new clothes before going to the bank might prove to be a more difficult task. I needed to find pants, shirt, and shoes in a hurry. A thorough search of the three rooms found nothing of value, it was all just trash, not even an old newspaper with the date on it. I thought I’d brave the rest of the Inn first, before I started looking at my neighbour’s clothes lines. I didn’t want anyone recognizing me when I tried to ‘borrow’ their pants.
The Inn was an enigma. Something had happened here to make this place empty. While it obviously had sat empty for years, it sure hadn’t been emptied orderly. I thought that maybe it had sold or been closed due to health reasons or such thing. But had that been true, it would not have been like I found it.
In the dinning room, tables were still set for dinner, plates and cups set, the spoons and knifes in their correct places. On others were plates with food remnants still on them, glasses empty, chairs knocked askew as if the diner was in a great hurry to leave. Indeed, it looked as if all the patrons had risen at once to leave and had done so without taking any possessions with them, for on the tables were also purses, handbags, hats, newspapers, and other sorted and sundry items one takes to dinner.
The front entrance hall was the same. Shopping bags were still sitting by some of the couches, hats on the hat rack by the fireplace. The front desk check in area still had registration slips laying about the counter. The register was open, money showing in the drawer, cover with a thick layer of dust. I looked at the date on a newspaper on the counter – Thursday, January 7, 1973. The day after I had flipped into 1973 to help Holly. The same day I had been set free from the jail and came here to rest. The same day I had flipped with out wanting to.
What it meant I wasn’t sure. It may have meant nothing.
*****************
I walked down one of the hallways where the guest rooms were. The maid’s carts and sorted tools were still sitting in the hall, waiting for the final brush up and push back to housekeeping. I glanced into one of the ‘empty’ rooms to find an open suitcase on the unmade bed, clothing strewn around the room helter skelter, a half-hearted attempt to pack, but again the owner disappearing before they could finish.
I looked at the clothes and thought ‘why not’. If they fit, it was better than borrowing them off a line where I could get caught and the missing clothes noticed. I doubted anyone would ever miss these again. It took four rooms, but I was able to assemble a full complement of clothes. I didn’t worry too much about the stye; jeans and Bass weejuns never go out of style while a golf shirt was a golf shirt. There was money in the rooms too, although I felt really guilty taking it. I wanted to leave an IOU, but somehow that just didn’t seem right either. Some of these bills were over twenty years old. I hoped people didn’t notice. Now I had cash and clothes. Time to get dinner. I was starving.
I left the same way I came in, out the back and through the Mews to the clearing. From there I walked through the clearings until I hit Elm Street. I took a right to one of my favourite restaurants.
Entering the grand old establishment brought relieve. It was as I had known it. Even Beverly was at the hostess stand, a spot she had taken for the fifteen years I had been in Stockbridge. She flashed a smile as I came the door and asked “Hi! Will you be staying for dinner?”
“Good evening, Beverly. Yes, I will.”
Her smiled wavered slightly ‘Do you have a reservation?”
“Not tonight, sorry. Are you full? Should I return at a later time?” I had known this place to fill up fast, although a little later in the evenings. This was a local’s restaurant and they tended to eat much later in the evening.
“Oh, no sir. It’s just that we generally don’t get many tourist in this part of town, Not that we mind, of course.” She led me to a table by the wall, hesitated, then my customary table by the window. “Have a good dinner, Sir.” she told me as she sped away toward the kitchen.
It was difficult for me to tell, but I don’t think she recognized me. Fourteen years of coming to a place, skip a night and you’re all but forgotten. Jeez.
Colleen was to be my waitress. She had served me before and knew my preferences for fish over beef. She also knew how I liked my drinks stirred, not shaken – we had dated once or twice since I’d been in town – nothing serious.
“Hi, my name’s Colleen and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I get you something to drink, a microbrew of the house speciality perhaps?”
No need to go any further. This was definitely not my 1997, even if there was a big Chevy Impala cruising outside. I decided just to lay low and see what I could learn about this place. “Umm, you know, how about just an iced tea? With lime instead of lemon?”
“Sure, I’ll be right back…”
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’m ready to order now.”
“Oh, okay. What would you like?”
I gave here my order, making sure not to order any of my usual favourite things. She seemed happy with everything except the homemade vanilla-lemon meringue pie. “We haven’t had that since - - - I don’t know when.” she said.
“Maybe I was thinking of the old hotel that was up on the corner… what was it’s name?? The Inn… Red Inn or something like that?
“The Red Lion Inn?” asked Colleen. “Mister, if you had vanilla-lemon meringue pie there, it must have been a long time ago.”
“Why’s that?”
“Huh, because it burned down about twenty years ago, that’s why. Struck by lightening, n’ not just once either. Seemed like the wraith of God came on that place. I was just a little girl when it happened, but I remember it like yesterday. My pop and I had just gotten Ice Cream at the Mews and walked across the street to the car. A sound like I’d never heard before came rolling across the sky, a long, long thunder sound. All the hairs on my head were sticking out. Suddenly, a bolt flew from the sky, split into it must have been six or eight separate other bolts, and the all hit that inn at one time. It didn’t stand a chance. It was like God wanted that place to disappear all at once. People were screaming and rushing to get out, falling on the front yard, pushing and shoving each other to get away from the building as fast as they could.
It was the strangest thing, when that bolt, or all them bolts hit at once… instead of the place blowing apart like you see in those moves like Independence Day where the White House blows up?, this place seemed to blow in. Those bolts hit every high point on the building and the whole place seemed to shutter and sucked itself in. After the fire was put out, all they found was a pile of ashes in the middle of the lot. I won’t ever forget that.“
“Burned!? You’ve got to be kidding. I just … Wow. It seems like yesterday I spent the night. Wow, that’s amazing. What happened after that? What made them rebuild?
“Well, some people wanted to rebuild the Inn, but that would have been pretty morbid, seeing as how all those folks were killed in the blast. Instead, the town got together and decided to build the park on the land where it stood. That park has lasted a good twenty years, where a lot of people wanted to build on it, the owner insisted it stay a park. So far, she’s gotten her way.”
“When did all this happen?”
“Ummm… I don’t remember exactly. I think we may have some pictures on the walls. Let’s see…”
We walked around the dining room while Colleen showed me the pictures. There were several showing the inn, all of the dated before 1970. I actually saw some that showed a park where the inn had been. It was spooky looking at a photograph of the place I had just been when it was supposed to have burned down a long time ago. One stopped me dead in my tracks. It was a newspaper clipping headlined “Local Woman To Dedicate Park To Tragedy” Under it was a grainy black and white photograph of a woman and a girl. They were standing in front of a pile of smouldering ashes that must have been the remnants of the inn. The woman was stern, her face pinched in a perpetual snarl. The little girl was practically busting out with laughter, however. Her eyes were sparkling and she seemed extremely pleased with herself. Yes, little Holly Jenkins seemed pretty damned pleased. Her mother not so happy – but I doubted she ever was. The date on the paper was January 7, 1973.
I paid the bill with the money from the Inn. I wondered what Colleen would have thought if she had known her tip came from a burned out building. Neither one of them noticed the dates on the money. I left the restaurant and made my way back to the Inn. I half expected it not to be there – after seeing the pictures. But I knew it would be. I understood something else. It was safe. A haven from whatever it was that was happening. As long as I was in my shop rooms, nothing could touch me unless I wanted it to. I entered the shop cautiously, taking no chances. I felt safe here, but outside I had a feeling I didn’t want to expose myself too much. It was as if Holly were out there, looking for me. If I went outside these walls, she could see me, whereas if I stayed in, all she could see was a park.
I wander back up toward the front of the Inn. It was fascinating being in a place that, for all practical places didn’t exist. I went over to the registration desk and fingered through the cards stacked neatly on the sideboard. There had been some important people in the community staying at the Inn that night. I wondered which ones made it out.
The newspaper didn’t have much news and didn’t mention the sledding incident at the school at all. Nor did it mention anything about Will’s supposed suicide.
I turned back toward the front door when my heart froze. Standing outside, staring as if she could see into the dirty glass of the front door, stood Holly.
She no longer was the little girl of seven. She was a grown lady that looked beautiful and very sophisticated, She didn’t make a move as she stood there. Her eyes were glazed, but alert. She was listening… I knew it somehow. She couldn’t see me, but she suspected. I froze in place, trying not even to breath.
She held that pose for two minutes, then she slowly walked a little farther into what for her must have been the park. For me it was the entrance to the dining room. Her head was sticking out from the floor, as the inn had been higher than street level. It was downright terrifying watching her head move through solid wood and then stop. She again listened, and then slowly rotated around in a circle. Her eyes passed over me but I don’t think I registered. She went on through the dining room and into the rooms beyond. I don’t think she knew where my shop rooms were, since she had never been there in this time, or else I expected she would have gone there first. Even though she passed from my sight I didn’t move. It wasn’t until I saw her out front again, getting into a Lincoln Town Car that I even exhaled. When she had left I tried to relax but realized that I had tensed every muscle in my body and that they were paying me back by knotting up. It took ten minutes to get the knots out and relax enough to walk back to my rooms.
So she suspects, but doesn’t know, I thought. I need to flip home. Now. I tried, but nothing happened. So I went to bed
I had only been asleep a few minutes it seemed, when something woke me. I was trying to flip, or at least something was trying to flip me. I could tell as I kept passing from the rooms to a open field, back to the rooms. Stop! I cried silently. Stop! I won’t go! If I don’t want to go, you can’t make me! Leave me alone!
But the whatever became more agitated, pulling me harder into flipping. I resisted with all my strength, mentally shutting out the image of flipping, squinting my eyes shut to make it darker. It was the tinkle-tinkle of the bell I had put on the door that saved me. The moment I heard the first tin I was gone, but not before I had seen who was making it tinkle – Holly was back.
I knew I was outside, it was warm, and not raining. That’s all I knew. Where, and I suppose, more importantly – when I was - did not appear obvious to me. I scrambled over on my back just as the sound of little feet came pounding around a bush. A little boy no older that four came running around the bush as fast as he could fly. He came to a skidding stop just inches from my nose, a look of wonder and astonishment on his face. He didn’t show any surprise that I was there, almost like he expected to see something when he came around behind that bush. His mouth was forming an O when he suddenly raised one hand and pointed a finger at me. He stood there for what seemed like minutes but must have only been seconds. “Help.” He said. “Help.” Then I heard a “William, get in here, dinnertime! You mom wants you washed up!” and he was gone. A second later, so was the bush. In it’s place was the door to the shop, but Holly was gone.
I looked around to make sure she wasn’t somewhere else on the shop, but I knew she wasn’t. How she had gotten here I hadn’t a clue… but I was beginning to piece together an idea of why she was here.
Holly was after me. I knew the truth about her. She wasn’t that innocent waif of a girl that had captured my attention so many years from now. No… she was much more than that. He lay back on the bed in one of the empty rooms was using. Holly was special - that was for sure. How special he wasn’t quite sure. He had a feeling he was going to find out now that she free from her handicap after all these years. But knowing that she was dangerous gave him strength. He wasn’t blind anymore to her manipulations. He also now understood that he wasn’t alone. He had help. That little boy also knew – had known. Will was now own his side, too. He fell asleep.
Holly knew from the day she was born that she was different. She could do things, cause things to happen. She had been slated for great things, During her early years she had nurtured her special ‘abilities’, letting them grow, keeping them hidden except when people really made her angry. It wasn’t until that unfortunate accident that caused her so much pain that she understood how much she had lost. She couldn’t control the power anymore, couldn’t command the dragons. And her stupid brother Will couldn’t see or understand her anguish. All those years he kept trying to decipher a meaning to her cries. If only he had known what she was really crying. But there was one consolation to her lose – while she had lost control of her known abilities, a new one seemed to sneak in, one she didn’t even know she had. She could sense, like a tingle in her toes and eyelids, when there was someone around her with other unusual abilities. They were few and far, far between, but they were there. When she came in contact with one, each could sense each other’s ability, She tried reaching out with her mind to see if the other could help her escape her pain, but had not found one – that is, until they wandered into that stupid shop of MR. METCALF’s. Immediately Holly sensed a strong presence in the room, something she hadn’t sensed before. This user had a different power than she had ever known, the power to skip across time. How she could use this power, she wasn’t sure. She needed to think. She performed her trick that always seemed to please her idiot brother into thinking he could speak to her. She laughed mentally… he didn’t know it, but she could speak to him - and make him do almost everything she wanted him to do, just be wishing it. Oh sure, it was hard work and at times it was harder to do than others, he seemed to resist at times, but he usually relented and did her bidding. She wanted closer to this strange man, wanted to feel his power. When he touched her it was if an electrical shock went through her. YES! YES! I KNOW! I KNOW HOW!.
Time. Time was the key. She needed to somehow get Metcalf to flip top save the poor little girl.
She spent the next two weeks trying to prepare Will for their next meeting with Metcalf. She mentally stroked him and messaged him. She wanted Will to tell Metcalf her story. Not just tell him her story, but to make him feel it, feel the pain when she went crashing into that fire hydrant, hear the CRACK! as her neck broke when Will rammed into her. Metcalf must understand the horror in it, the tragedy of a life lost.
When she thought Will ready, she gently pushed him to another visit. They made it all the way to the Mews before Will suddenly turned and took her home. She was furious! How dare he! This was not what she wanted!
Another two weeks before she could finally push him to go. But this time she was pretty sure they would make it. They did, And sure enough, Metcalf was curious enough to ask what had happened. Will was brilliant, she would not have been able to stop crying if she hadn’t already lived the story. The hook was baited. Now came time for the bite.
When Metcalf dozed off to sleep that night, after hearing Will’s tale of how poor Miss Holly became so poor, Holly lay awake in her bed, waiting for a sign that Metcalf was going to flip. It never came. Angry, she finally dozed off herself.
The next night, Holly wasn’t going to take any chances. She somehow would MAKE Metcalf flip if he wasn’t so inclined on his own. She lay awake, her mind searching for Metcalf’s, trying to connect. It was elusive, more so than any other she had known, But find it she did. He was almost ready to go on his own, but lacked the absolute conviction of doing-the-right-thing. So she gave a little nudge, and off he went.
It was 1971 again, and she could hear her brother asking to go down one more time and her father telling him "Oh, alright, but just one more time. I don't think that old sled has too many more times left in it." She and her brother got on the sleigh and began to be pushed down the slope. He was here. She could feel him. She tried to ignore the urge to turn around and wave at him because he would know. So what, she thought, he’d still do ti and I’d be free anyways. Better not screw it up, she thought, leave it alone. So she did.
The sled started making its way down the hill toward it final destination. She was scared and eager at the same time. When the sled first started to rattle and bump she let out a gasp, but kept her eyes fixed straight ahead. Where was he? What was he planning on doing? When the sleigh’s runner came loose and they went sideways she was beginning to panic. If he didn’t do something soon dammit, it would be too late. NOW! NOW she felt him coming. About damned time! she thought. BUT WAIT! What the hell is this!?? Another one? There are three of us here??! NO! It’s stopping Metcalf from coming down the hill, tripped him. Who IS it? Looking, Looking, can’t see… Blackness
Damn it! Thought Holly to herself as she awakened in 1997, still a ‘turnip’ as her mother liked to call her. Obviously something had gone wrong, maybe Metcalf had chickened out and decided to leave her as she was, or maybe her pulling him had resulted in him flipping too early or too late. She had to find out.
She reached out with her mind to fetch Will, intending to have him take her out to the school for a ‘little fresh air and exercise’. But Will wasn’t there. Funny. Will was always there. A second later she could sense that he was back, snoring as usual from the bedroom next door. Will hadn’t been there a second ago. Where in the hell had he been, she wondered. Let’s file it for later.
She reached out again, this time very gently. Wanting to see if he would awaken if touched gently. Nope. Just like the old Will. Oh well, might as well get him up, she thought, we’ve got a full day ahead of us.
Will awoke with a jump when he felt the icy fingers run up and down his spine. He knew immediately that Holly wanted him so he didn’t stop to think about that at all. He got up, dressed, and went in to see Holly. Holly had already been up and apparently so had their mother because Holly was dressed and looked like she was ready to go out.
“Hey, Miss Holly,” he said to her as she spit up bubbles into her hair. “Ready to go somewhere? Are you going somewhere today?”
“Damned right she is,” his mother drawled, “Git her lazy ass out of the house fer a’ while. Go fer a walk in the park, or maybe go by the school and watch the soccer players, ye know ‘ow much she like them.”
“Is that what you want, Hol? Want to go to the school and watch the soccer kids? Tell you what. Let me eat some breakfast first and then we’ll go, okay? Sure, that’s okay.”
“Ferget breakfast. Iffin it breakfast ye’ want, git it at the bakery, I ain’t a’fixin no damn breakfast.”
“All I wanted was some cold cereal, but that’s okay mom. We’ll get something at the bakery, don’t worry about it, mom.”
“Worrin? ‘Ell, I ain’t t’ worrin’. N’ I anint t’a fixen’ breakfast either, so git on and get the ‘ell outta ‘ere. An’ take this her damned girl wit’ cha.”
Will took Holly by the hand and led her toward the door. “We’ll be back soon, ma. If there’s something you want, just let us know.”
“Yeah, yeah. Jes’ getta ‘ell on outta ‘ere’s all I’m askin.”
Will and Holly left to go to the school.
Damn, Will. It’s about time you got us out of there, thought Holly. We need to move quick. Metcalf must be somewhere around here and we have to find him and make him go back and do it right this time. But Will took his time and actually did go the bakery for some breakfast first. While he sat and munched on a bagel, she sipped a vanilla shake on the outside and fumed on the inside. Come on – COME ON!, We need to move NOW. Finally Will was finished and asked her if she wanted to go to the school or maybe run by the movies? What is the hell was the problem here, thought Holly, why can’t I get through to you – The School, DUMMY!
She sensed him right away, he was practically glowing with cosmic heat. Will seemed not to notice him at all and no amount of mental prodding seemed to want to make him go near the casement where Metcalf was. Finally, she had to practically drag and push him to the area where they found Metcalf. Holly was shocked at his condition. She didn’t expect that time flipping could be so dangerous. They carried him home to the little shop. He was so hot that they – Will – took off his clothes and left him in bed. Will wrote a note and left it tacked to the door. She didn’t know what it said.
The time between the school and the next time they saw Metcalf was almost forever to Holly, She moped and groaned at home, Wailed to the moon when it seemed appropriate. She couldn’t wait, When he finally agreed to see them, she didn’t sleep at all the night before.
It had been worth the wait. Metcalf looked better than he did when she had first seen him, weeks ago. He was determined to succeed this time, for there was going to be a next time. It had worried her almost to death that Metcalf would not be physically able to flip again. She put the dinner invitation in Will’s mind after seeing Metcalf’s reaction to her. I want to keep him close, she though. How better than through his stomach?
After leaving Metcalf’s, Will had made a stop in one of the little shops in the Mews, she hadn’t payed it much attention. Metcalf was going back! She kept thinking. He’s ready! Today. Today!
They hadn’t been home thirty minutes when Holly went into her bedroom and lay down. Will watched her cross the threshold and shuttered a little as she bounced to the bed. Time, he thought. It’ s all about time.
She was on the sleigh, Will sitting behind her. She could hear her father saying.
"Oh, alright, but just one more time. I don't think that old sled has too many more times left in it." And off they went. More importantly, she could sense him. Somewhere very nearby and getting closer. The sled was starting to pick up speed when suddenly it was yanked out from under them. YES!! She thought. YES!! HE’S DONE IT!! I’M SAVED!! as she and Will went tumbling a few feet and stopped. She was ecstatic when she came to a stop, spitting snow. At least she was until she saw the stricken face. It told her more than words could ever do. It told the story of failure and abject fear. It was the face of the third power that had stopped the first attempt but hadn’t had time to even know the second one was planned. It was Will’s face, and he turned away quickly.
It doesn’t matter, thought Holly. Not anymore. I don’t need you anymore. Or you, she turned back to watch Metcalf’s reaction. He was standing there, a happy smile on his face. He had done it! He thought. Poor dummy. Holly gave a small push to her dad and he suddenly grabbed Metcalf by the arm and spun him around. Another push and her dad slugged Metcalf, knocking him on his back in the snow. One little final push and her dad kicked Metcalf’s feet causing him to slide down the hill on his back – right for the exposed fire hydrant. Holly turned away from here dad to look for Will. Your turn, she thought, Too late. She realized he knew that Metcalf was in danger and had acted to shield him from it. He almost succeeded too. He had pushed snow around the hydrant, hoping to soften the blow. Well, maybe. But it didn’t matter because she heard the CRACK! of Metcalf hitting the hydrant and knew it was over for him. Will, your time is coming, brother. Just wait until I get you home.
When Will got home he knew he had little time before things got hot is a hurry. He hurried to his room and dug out two of his favourite miniature toys in his collection. He held them in his hand, again in awe at the level of detail in such a small things. He squeezed his hand around them and held on tight. As he did, his image wavered, became translucent, and finally disappeared all together.
When he returned, his sister was laying on his bed, waiting patiently, as if half expecting him. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him with blank eyes. No sadness or any sigh of regret. He felt himself gripped firmly from behind and knew it was Dad, coming because Holly needed his strength. He didn’t blame Dad, Will knew he had no knowledge of what he was doing – unless Holly was even more cruel than he possibly thought, Will’s dad picked up Will by his arms and carried him toward the basement steps. They passed through the kitchen on the way. Mrs. Jenkins sat quietly at the table, hands in her lap. Her eyes flicked quickly to Will and her husband and then down. Not a sound from her. Down the steps they went.
Holly came through a moment later. She look at her mother sitting over at the table, Twenty-something years, she thought, twenty damned years you yelled and screamed, because you could. You’d known all along, hadn’t you? You had been happy to hear about the accident, hadn’t you? It didn’t keep you from being the bitch, but you were happy it happened – so was everybody in this damned stagecoach stop. They would pay, oh yes. She glanced over at her mother. As she did, her mother’s eyes rolled back up into their sockets and her mother slumped out of the chair onto the floor, spittle dripping from her mouth. “I’ll be back, mom, do go anywhere.” She whispered as she headed down the stairs to the basement.
John Metcalf awoke with sunlight streaming through the room, a sight he was not normally used to. He realized he was still in 1997, no change there, and that things were changing. He could feel it. He closed his eyes and made a wish. He was almost given a heart attack by the screaming woman standing near the bathroom door. She had apparently finished taking a shower and had come in to dress. Seeing a strange man lying on the bed must have given her a bigger shock. He quickly closed his eyes and felt the sun again on his face through the open window. He could flip, not for long, it seemed, but he could flip and that’s what he needed to do.
He rose and, making sure he had what he’d brought with him, he left the room and out into the hall. He turned left, toward the front desk. There was something there he needed. John had known what he needed to do ever since he had seen Holly at the jail. He had screwed up – bad. He needed to make it right.
He turned toward the front door and stopped dead in his tracks. On the wall, written in scrawling red paint was:
I know you’re here. It’s only a matter of time until I find you…
Underneath it, scrawled in a childish hand, he saw:
Flipp Mister Metcaf, and kep flippin so she cant find you.
And so he did, as soon as he grabbed what he came for.
It was dark and the messages on the walls were gone. Obviously Holly hadn’t been here yet. He needed to get out of here and get to the school. He turned to go out the back way and almost collided with Holly coming through the dining room. He flipped.
Dammit to hell! Thought Holly as she was bounced back on her feet by Metcalf. I should have known you were there!! She mentally screamed, causing plates and dished to fly off empty tables crashing into the walls. Why didn’t I sense you? Was Will still helping you somehow? Will was gone but he had somehow created this refuge for you before he departed this poor earth. What a fool she’d been, thinking all this time that she was the only one special. Apparently Will not only had powers she didn’t know about, but must have also been able to predict the future in some fashion – after all – he knew she was going to burn this place to the ground as soon as Metcalf had time to get safely in to his hidey-hole. But maybe he didn’t get there. Maybe this is where he was went when she went in his room to pay him back for his ‘brotherly love’. He had appeared right before her face just as she wished it. Maybe she hadn’t gotten her wish. Maybe he was coming back from a trip he had wanted to take, one with out poor little sister. DAMN!
Metcalf had to be in the Inn, he was safer here than outside were he would be exposed. Time, she thought. How about that. Flipping through time. Wow, She was just learning how too from Metcalf, although he didn’t know it. Every time he flipped, she sensed it and she thought she understood a little more until she had made her first attempt. WoW! She didn’t understand about flipping through only her actual lived lifespan, but she would learn. But there was something she could do that Metcalf could not, and that was to stop someone from flipping. She had been able to stop Metcalf from returning to his own time, and by God, she was going to permanently put a halt to his good times.
She moved over to the front desk, amazed at the amount of detail Will had been able to create. This place, the Inn, didn’t exist in reality out side these doors. She had made sure of that. Her finest achievement, at least to date. She started to flip, hoping to find Metcalf’s trail when the two small items next to the register caught her eye. She picked them up and whistled softly as she realized what they were. The detail on the small model of the Red Lion Inn was amazing. She bet that if she could get her fingers onto the porch, she would be able to rock the tiny little rocking chairs sitting there. The glass in the front door was clear and you could see right through to the dining room. It only took a second for her to realize that it was this model she was standing in now. It was this model that was giving Metcalf safe haven. With out it, he would be helpless. She slowly squeezed the model until she could hear it starting to crack. I’d better get out of here first, she thought.
Outside, in the night air, she looked back at the park that used to be the Red Lion Inn. This time, it’s really going to just be a park she laughed. Taking the model of the Inn, she dropped it on the sidewalk. Without looking at it, watching the park, she stepped on the model, crushing it beneath her feet. She twisted her foot, grinding the tiny pieces into the roughness of the concrete until nothing else crunched. The area above the park wavered slightly, life a heat wave on the road on a hot July day. That was all. The Red Lion Inn was no more. She had made sure of that. If John Metcalf had been in there, well, she wasn’t sad to see him go. She reached out and tried to sense him. Nothing. She looked down at the tiny smashed pieces at her feet. “Goodbye Mr. Medcalf.” She muttered. “Sorry to see you so broken up over your good deed”.
She reached into her pocked and pulled out the second miniature she had found. Impossible! She thought as she starred at the little beautifully done model, holding it up to eyes in the light. Will starred back at her.
*****************
John had been shocked to see Holly right in front of him. It was all he could do to keep his wits. His eyes fell on the writings on the wall and so he took Will’s advice and flipped. Twice. The second time he heard Will’s voice in his head telling him he had to get out, now! He started for the rear doors when Will came back, stronger, telling him he had no time left, he had to GO! From somewhere he heard a loud Crack! like the Inn was giving up it’s backbone. So he ran until he came to the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He backed up , put his shoulder down, and ran, tearing the old door off its hinges. He stumbled off the porch and into the decrepit parking lot. NOT ENOUGH! Shouted Will inside his head. Get Off, GET OFF the land!!
He stumbled trying to race over the gravel in the drive. He got to his feet and raced to the Mews side, trying to get off the property. He leapt, clearing the bushes by inches just as Holly stepped on the model.
He couldn’t see Holly, but he knew that whatever was taking place was because of her. He watched the backside of the Inn as it began to squeal and creak. All at once it began to come apart, falling into a heap and then to be flattened into nothing. He blinked and the Inn was gone, replaced with a park. No coming back now, John-boy he thought, It’s time. Past Time came the voice from inside his head. He had what he needed so he flipped.
Holly jerked the model of Will from her vision. Oh, it was Will alright. Somehow he had managed to escape her little belt party and ended up stored away in this little place he called home. Well, she would let him stay for a while. It might be fun to let him watch all that was going to happen now that she was in charge. Payback time, bozos!
But she had sensed something… a shift. What was it? Suddenly she was as sure it had been Metcalf as she was sure about Will. He had gotten out of the Inn! And the Bastard had flipped! There was only one place, one time for him to go. She needed to get to the school before he did or would they all be sorry. She flipped.
John was back in 1971, he was sure. It was snowing to beat the band and the temperature was running about seventeen degrees. He took the old coat out of the bag he was carrying and made his way over the snow-covered streets to the school. He could hear the laughing of the children and parents as they played innocently in the snow. A tragedy was going to take place that day, and if he didn’t stop it, an even bigger disaster would destroy them all.
He wound his way through the parking lot to the rear of the building. Looking toward the end, he could see Will and Holly, along with their father, laughing and enjoying the snow. He saw Holly stop and look around in eager anticipation, as if she was expecting someone, then run off to play. He glanced at the casement of the window where he had hidden, It was empty now, but he didn’t think it would be for long. He took the items left in his bag over to the casement area. With the shovel he dug out an area about two feet wide. He mixed the bagged mix with water and poured it into the shallow hole he had dug, then covered the whole area with a light dusting of snow. He had to hurry, time was running out.
He took the blanket and soaked it with the remaining water. This all would have to be done fast, before anyone saw something.
Holly came around right on time. She didn’t have time to shout before the cold, wet blanket was thrown over her already freezing body. She was picked up and immediately stuffed into some type of heavy, sticky muck. It was getting hard and her feet and hands were quickly becoming stuck. Time to flip. Time to flip Dammit. FLIP! No dice. Something was holding her back, but that couldn’t happen! Who could do that! Not Metcalf! No. Will! Will could do that I bet. I should have smashed that little bastard’s image when I had the chance. Shit, it’s never too late! It was too late. Her hands and feet were trapped in what seemed to be cement. The blanket made it impossible to see what was going on. The cold kept her from being able to concentrate and if she didn’t get relief soon, she was going to pass out.
John waited until the cold took hold and Holly passed out. He didn’t want to harm her. Not really. He needed her out of his way.
He could hear Will ask his dad if they could ride ‘just-one-more-time’ and their father telling him "Oh, alright, but just one more time. I don't think that old sled has too many more times left in it."
John watched, again, as Will and Holly got onto the old rickety sleigh. Their dad started to give then a gentle push town the hill and step away. He watched the sled carrying the two children make its fateful run. The sled began to shake as one of the runners began to come loose. The loose runner began to oscillate back and forth, causing the sled to shake even more and then to turn sideways. Holly began to scream and grabbed Will for support- but there was no support. The sled threw them off like a rocket. Holly went first, rolling down the quickly, heading directly for where the hydrant had been buried. Will was right behind her, rolling backwards. No begging or pleading this time. No covering his eyes. John wanted it over – as quickly as possible. Just as before, the sled continued it's decent down the hill after the children. It hit once, then bounced over the rolling kids and right on top of the mound where the hydrant lay buried. The loose runner again slicing the packed snow around the hydrant loose. When the sled made its final bounce off the hydrant, it stripped the snow loose with it.
Holly never had a chance. I watched her as she came down. But there was something different this time. Nothing I could see, maybe it wasn’t anything after all. I was going to flip just as Will crashed into Holly. Maybe it was over. It was about time.
I waited to hear final indication that it was really over. But it never came. The CRACK! that would indicate it was final. Instead it came up the hill as a SPHLAT!!
I walked up the hill toward the casement. It was empty.
I flipped.
*****************
It was the tinkle-tinkle of the bell above my door that got my attention. I was in the small area I call my kitchen, arranging a spot of tea when it rang. The gentleman stopped immediately after entering, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. I waited a minute until the water was steaming then added a cup to my tray and carried it out past the beaded curtain into the sales area.
“Good afternoon Will. Would you care to join me in a cup of hot tea?”
“Hey, John. I though we had a date for supper. I came by two days ago and asked. There’s that new Microbrew and restaurant down on Elm Street. Come on, lets go.”
“Yeah, I remember. I though you’d like a cup of tea first.”
“No way, my man. I want to sample those thirty-six flavours of beer on the wall.”
It was a nice place. It seems the proprietor, a real nice lady named Colleen Hawley, had once lived here in Stockbridge. She stopped by and greeted her guest to make sure they were happy. “So, when did you live here in Stockbridge, Miss Hawley?” asked Will.
“In the early Seventies.” She replied. “I have photographs on the walls showing some of the area at the time. Nothing much has changed. These New England towns never seem to change. I was here almost ten years and the most excitement I ever saw was when that poor little girl got killed sledding on the fire hydrant at the school. What a tragedy. They took the hydrant out the next week.
Will sat in stony silence. When she left, he looked at me and broke into a grin, “Shall we try those thirty-six flavours now?!
“Why not.” I replied, “We have plenty of time.”
