Quantum Touch Collection

Chapter 28

WITH A PHONE to his ear, he said, “I don"t care what it costs. The result will be worth it many times over. We need to mix in the Arabs, so try the Eledorians. They"re already suspects. You know the rest. Get them ready. We"ll know when the time is right. And this time, get it done.”

I WAS HAPPY to get home that day with more stories for Linda. Ashley and Sandy came for dinner. The president had called to thank me again, and explained how he had figured out the puzzle of the portal. He had played the tapes of my desk a dozen times, he said. Frame by frame, he finally saw the lock on the drawer. The key. Ben Franklin. He said the realization was so clear to him, such an obvious clue, he wasn"t surprised we"d found it ourselves so soon after he had. “Fritz, between us, I"d love to talk to you about places we could go together.”

THE BOOK, COFFEE table-sized, sat on his lap. Sandy had gone home after their long day. In gold embossed letters, UNPREDICTABLE blazed at him. His hands covering his face, his shoulders shuddering in secret wracking anguish that no one shared, Ashley again closed his high school yearbook.

UNPREDICTABLETHE SCHOOL YEAR ended, and the seniors heard a commencement address by the president of the United States. The McAllisters, Sandy and Ashley, and Linda and I were all guests of the president for a weekend at Camp David, where we met and spoke with the ambassador and his wife. During the summer, the president announced the retirement of Jim Koppler after a long and illustrious career in service to our country.

Summer vacation kept us busy. We went to the ballpark and “down the shore.” Linda watched the Tour de France in July, her All-Star game.

As the riders sped downhill, I remembered our first meeting, accidental. And almost an accident. Standing on Fifth Avenue, all I saw were two wheels aimed straight for me. She swerved and missed. Not enough time for more than a quick glance at her face. She smiled and kept pedaling.

When we met at a party later, she said she remembered my face. I had a different look on it then, she said. Panic, she recalled, chuckling.

I asked her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee. She smiled again. And said yes. She told me about her love of bike racing and that she worked as an editor and also part-time at Bicycle Habitat in SoHo. She wanted to own a bike shop business, a chain or a franchise. But before she did, she wanted to get her MBA. Now, I don"t really believe in this stuff, but by the time the evening ended, I felt like I"d known her forever. I"d never enjoyed coffee more.

Bicycle Habitat“Fritz, I need to get riding again. I miss it so much.”

Before the summer ended, we spent one weekend on Long Beach Island with Ashley. At dinner, we discussed the role the portal played at the end of the year. In the sun, with the waves providing sound effects, I listed what we had discovered. The portal opened with a combination of thunderstorm, my desk key in the lock, paperclips pointing to a location, and a shock on the doorknob. We found that time traveled at different speeds. I still wondered if we were going back or if the portal transported the past to the present? And more than anything, we needed to determine if we were affecting the future by using the portal. My bruised face had finally returned to normal. I joined Linda and Ashley with a scar of my own. Not as long as Linda"s, nor as dramatic as Ashley"s, I bragged that mine was much older. We had learned that the portal was dangerous, and we all had questions as yet unanswered. I couldn"t get over an eighty-year-old photo of my feet.

“Do you think the kids were changed because we went through?” asked Ash.

“I don"t know, but maybe we"ll know more in the fall.”

Linda said, “Then I hope we have perfect weather, every day for the next ten years.”

ONE AUGUST AFTERNOON, past the heat of the day, I went to the backyard. Linda was harvesting tomatoes. I took two from her, intending to slice them and with a little salt and pepper, cure my rumbling stomach until dinner. I showed her the file folder I had brought out.

“What is it?”

“My book. Well, a couple of chapters anyway.”

“That"s great. Let me pick some peppers, and I"ll read it.”

We were again invited to the White House for dinner, this time as special guests, but none of the other guests knew why. And to add to the summer"s events, I got the scare of my life.

“Fritz, I spoke to Dr. Rosenblatt a few minutes ago.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Fritz, he said he found something growing.” Her not looking me in the eye sent a shiver through me.

“Lin, I"m here no matter, I promise. Did he say what he thought it was?”

“He did.” She hesitated. I held my breath. “Fritz, you"re going to be a father.” Then, her eyes sought mine, and I realized they put the sky to shame.

That summer ended, as all summers do. Vacation was over, and another school year was about to begin. On the night before classes started, Linda and I sat together on the sofa in our family room, watching the local news and weather. As the local weatherman was predicting a 70% chance of thunderstorms, my phone rang.

Looking at Linda, I answered. “Hello, Mr. President.”