7

 

 

“You say this is called tell-o-vision?”

He heard the awe in his own voice, yet his mind simply could not grasp that he was seated inside Suzanne’s house, watching what she said were people in a studio across the Delaware River. And they were talking to him!

“Yes, well actually it’s pronounced tel-eh-vision and it’s being broadcast from Philadelphia.”

He turned and stared at her seated beside him on the sofa. Holding Matty, she looked so calm, as if this wasn’t some kind of miracle. “How can this be? How can they be in Philadelphia and in your house at the same time?” He quickly turned back when he heard the man behind the glass asking if he was concerned about the quality of the air he breathed. “No,” he answered, and heard Suzanne’s chuckle.

“Charlie, he can’t hear you. Only you can hear him. Television isn’t interactive. It only goes one way… out to whomever is watching.”

“But how does it work?”

“It’s sent on radio waves and… and is picked up by an aerial and… oh, I don’t know. Wait, okay. I’ve got it. Would you go over to that book shelf with the encyclopedias and bring me the one marked T?”

Reluctant to leave the amazing glass pictures, he got up and did as she asked. He searched the long row of leather bound books until he found the one she’d requested. Handing the book to her, he sat back down and watched as the picture changed once again to men with measuring equipment. They were measuring the air? How? Why?

“Okay, here,” Suzanne said after a few moments, placing the book on the sofa beside her. “It says when you switch on your television set, the picture you see is created from a pattern of light formed by electrical signals. The television camera converts the picture it takes into electrical signals, and they are broadcast on radio waves at the speed of light. Look, here’s a picture and a diagram.”

He glanced down to the book and saw a confusing picture of something called electron beams. Turning his attention back to the glass, he asked, “Why are they measuring the air? What do they hope to find?”

“Well, they measure to find pollution, and we all hope the lack of it,” she answered. “See, Charlie, all these marvelous inventions… well, a lot of them make the air we breathe less clean than what you’re used to. The biggest culprit is the modern combustion engine. The car.”

“Really? There are so many of them now.”

“I know. Most of us want to keep the cars we have so I guess the answer is in technology again—coming up with a cleaner engine.”

He watched the glass change again to a picture of a scandalously clad woman walking in the surf of the ocean. She was near naked! When she kicked her foot and sent the water spraying toward the glass, he involuntarily jerked sideways away from it.

“That’s not live, happening right now,” Suzanne said with a giggle. “That’s a commercial. There’s a difference between what’s happening right now, as in the live news reports, and what’s been taped or filmed some time ago and is shown over and over again.”

“A com-mercial?” How would he ever learn all this?

“See? It’s an advertisement for Ballys, a fitness gym where people work out. This particular advertisement is saying that summer is coming and there’s still time to get in shape.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, excuse me for saying this, but that young woman certainly appears to have a… ah, shape. Is it accepted to show so much of one’s body in this time?”

Watching her smile, he could tell that she didn’t mind all his questions.

“Yes, Charlie, it’s acceptable… even preferable, if you look like her. We’re not quite as puritanical in this time about our bodies.”

“But you don’t dress like that.”

She laughed good-naturedly as she glanced down to her yellow and white robe. “I don’t look like that,” she answered as she eased herself up from the sofa. Placing Matty into the bassinet Charlie had brought downstairs, Suzanne added, “Even before I got pregnant I guess I was never one to prance about in a bikini. Now, I’ll be lucky to get into a one-piece this summer.”

“A one piece?” Bikini? What the hell is that?

“Bathing suit,” she said, rubbing the small of her back. “Right now, I’d just like to get back into the jeans I wore a year ago. Here,” she added, picking up a thin black contraption and holding it out to him. “Press this button and watch what happens.”

He did.

“Point it at the television.”

This time he was astonished as the glass picture changed right before his eyes to people yelling and pushing back chairs as they appeared ready to fight.

“Jerry Springer,” Suzanne muttered. “Push it again.”

The next picture showed a huge yellow bird talking to children.

“Sesame Street. Try it again.”

He did and saw men galloping on horses through desert mountains. He pointed at the picture. “I’ve been there,” he whispered with awe as he leaned closer.

“You have?”

Nodding, he said, “I don’t know if it’s the exact same place, but it certainly looks like a ranch I worked on in Texas.”

“Really? You worked on a ranch? Like a cowboy?”

“For two years. Mitch and… well, someone I knew, and I, we did it together,” he corrected, not wanting even to think about that sonofabitch Mitch Davies. The picture changed to what appeared to be a bunkhouse and he sat, fascinated, as he listened to a conversation between two men discussing how they were planning to steal part of the herd of horses. He glanced up to Suzanne who was still smiling at him. “Should we inform someone of this?”

Her shoulders dropped and her head tilted to the side as her smile widened. “Ah, Charlie, what a sweetie you are. This isn’t real. It’s a show, a movie. Didn’t they have movies in your time?”

“We had black and white moving pictures, but no sound. You could read words on a huge screen, and a small orchestra in a pit up front would play music in the larger theaters. It was nothing like this, Suzanne. How will I ever catch up?” A part of him wondered if he really wanted to. It was as though the future was chasing him and he didn’t know how long he could keep running from it. Raking his fingers through his hair in frustration, he sighed.

“Well, you could use the encyclopedia to look up things you don’t understand, or…” she paused.

“Or?” he asked hopefully, as he glanced up at her.

“Or, we could rent videos… err… movies to watch here at home on the TV.”

“The TV?”

“TV is short for television. See, what I was thinking was, we go to Blockbuster and you could get a sort of crash course pictorial history starting with…” She hesitated “… like For Whom the Bell Tolls. Ernest Hemingway’s novel was made into a movie and it was about World War One. That was around your time period, right?”

“World War One? There was another?”

Nodding, she replied with a tone of sadness, “Since then we’ve had World War Two, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Persian Gulf War—”

“But the war I fought in was supposed to be the war to end all wars. They said it would never happen again…” His stunned words trailed off.

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” she murmured. “A lot has happened since… wait. You were in the first world war?”

Staring at her, he sat in silence for a moment that spanned over seventy-five years. “That was a long time ago, Suzanne,” he said with a sigh, then added, “a time I’d rather not recall.” He looked up above the huge fireplace to the wreath hanging on the wall and beyond it to the ceiling. How he wished his mind would go as blank as the white above him, yet it would not rest. Peace, it seemed, had not come as easily to the world, either.

“I understand, Charlie.”

The sound of her voice gathered him back again. “Are we at war now?”

“Thankfully, no.”

That, he was relieved to hear. Although he had a strong sense of patriotism since he’d come to this great country, for a brief moment he thought he might have to volunteer his life again… and he was honest enough to admit that was not something he wanted to repeat. To him it was a plain and simple fact that war was ugly, no matter what age it took place in, and he had the scars to prove it. Looking back to Suzanne, he breathed deeply and attempted a confident smile. “So, you say I may take a pictorial history course of what I’ve missed then?”

“Sure.” She grinned, then her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Well, in a sense. Much of it is embellished by Hollywood, but some of it is dead-on accurate. You’ll get the basic idea.”

His mind vainly tried to make sense of all the foreign words she was using. “Holly-wood.” He repeated the word slowly as though saying it might give him a better understanding of it. Had he heard it before?

“You know, Hollywood, California. It’s where they make most of the movies.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod, although he knew he wasn’t completely clear on the subject. “Well then, how many blocks must we bust to get these vid-ee-os you speak of?”

Her sympathetic laugh was enough to expose his innocence. “Oh, Charlie, you are so precious,” she said with affection as she sat down beside him. “Please don’t be offended but, sometimes, talking to you is like trying to have a conversation with someone from another planet.” She paused and appeared to reflect before adding, “And yet, it amazes me how much I take for granted.”

He barely heard her comparison. He was too busy hoping the blush around his ears wouldn’t be noticed. Damn. He felt completely ignorant. “Forgive me, Su—”

Startled, he watched as she leaned over to touch his lips gently with her fingertip. In an instant, a part of him felt compelled to repel her advance, but he swallowed his pride and accepted her offering. Another part of him was forced to acknowledge something even more troubling. It was the first time she’d touched him in such an intimate fashion and he was shocked by the turmoil of emotions that ran through his body. She was, after all, a married woman and he was promised to another.

“Shh, Charles Garrity,” she said with a soft smile, interrupting his chaotic thoughts. “I’m the one who should apologize. I should be more sensitive to your… well, your incredible situation.”

“But that’s just the thing, you see,” he responded, as she pulled back. “I’m not exactly sure what my situation is.” He felt the pent-up frustration inside him mounting to a tremble in his hands, and he tightened his fists. “There are times I almost hope I’m suddenly going to wake up to find this has all been some wild, fantastic dream, and yet…” He gazed at her, hoping to find any semblance of reason and saw compassion in her eyes. “And yet, I’m still here.”

Her eyes changed to an expression of concern. “Are you terribly unhappy here, Charlie?”

He’d only considered his own happiness in the private moments before he fell asleep at night. Keeping himself occupied by helping Suzanne during the past three days had kept his mind from wandering into the images of the past— his life. “Well, no… I’m not terribly unhappy. Sure, there are people and things I miss. But I had a real life… at least, I thought it was real.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t know what’s real any longer. I try not to think about it, for none of it makes sense and, if I dwell on it too much, I fear I may lose my mind entirely.” He looked back at her. “It’s… it’s indescribable, Suzanne. I just can’t explain it.”

“I can only imagine,” she said in a near whisper as she stood up. “And I can partially relate. I’ve certainly had plenty of moments in my life when I’ve wished the absolute insanity of a situation was a dream, especially this last week.” He watched her spin around and push a button on the box with the glass screen. The pictures instantly disappeared and silence enveloped the room. She looked back at him. “But this is no dream, Charlie. It seems we both have quite a dose of reality to deal with and, as incredible as your story is, I believe you. I promised to help you in any way I can. As I’ve said, it’s the least I can do for you—to repay all you’ve done for me.”

“Thank you, Suzanne.” He glanced over to the resting child and added, “We’ll get through this together. Hell, I guess I’ve been in tougher spots in my time.” Reaching out, he tenderly placed his finger under a tiny, curled hand. Although still sleeping, instinctively, the infant clasped his fingertip. Just the sight of this real and fragile life gave him the courage to accept that he truly had a lot of blessings— regardless of the situation.

Over the last three days he had helped Suzanne regain her strength by preparing meals for her and changing Matthew, which he’d discovered was nearly a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. He’d learned how to use the washing machine and had done all the laundry. He’d even pressed his shirts and trousers with an electric iron. He’d swept floors, used an incredible contraption she called a vacuum, and acquainted himself with an appliance that cleaned and dried dishes in a matter of three-quarters of an hour. One thing was sure to him. The industrial age had made way to an age of automation, and he had to confess he found it convenient. Though, to be honest, he wasn’t quite comfortable doing what he’d always considered women’s tasks. He’d cooked and cleaned for himself over the years, but now there was an endless list of chores. No sooner would he feel a sense of triumph that all the laundry was completed, when Matty would soil something else. How did women do it? There were times he felt frustrated, fed up, wanting to run from the house and gulp in fresh air. It dawned on him that it took a great deal of energy and patience to run a home and not feel like a prisoner inside of it. But he’d found a way to escape.

During the afternoons while Suzanne and Matty napped, he’d busied himself outside in the gardens around the porch by tilling earthen beds and pulling weeds. He’d even had a chance to explore the farm a bit and discovered a small barn that housed a miniature tractor. At first glance he thought it might be a child’s toy, but upon further inspection, he saw it had an exposed engine that was nothing like the steam-driven ones he knew. He meant to ask her about that.

Realizing several moments had gone by as he was lost in thought, he turned back to Suzanne. She had remained still and witnessed the scene. Slightly embarrassed, Charles gently withdrew his finger from the infant’s grasp and broke the silence. “What do you do with the small tractor in the barn?”

She looked puzzled. “I don’t have a… Oh!” she said knowingly. “You mean the riding lawn mower.”

Now it was his turn to look puzzled.

“I’m glad you asked that, Charlie.” She made her way back to the sofa and began gathering up the burping towel and other baby paraphernalia. He could tell she was aware of his uneasiness and was going along with his change of subject. “That’s something you might enjoy doing a lot more than all the domestic chores you’ve handled around the house.”

“Really, Suzanne. It’s been no trouble at all,” he lied. Had his thoughts been that transparent?

She smiled at him. “Oh, I’m not complaining, believe me. I’m grateful you’ve done all that you have, but perhaps you need a guy thing to… well, something more masculine.”

He tilted his head in disbelief. Was she implying that his manhood was threatened or had diminished in some way? He looked down at his once calloused hands. They had begun to soften since he’d arrived here and had started helping her.

“What I mean to say is, I’m feeling much stronger now. I can begin to take over the responsibility of keeping up the house and still take care of Matty. You could be a huge help with some of the heavier work outside now that spring is here. Mowing the lawn is one of them.”

“Ah, strumming the grass,” he commented. He was beginning to get the picture.

When she looked puzzled again, he felt somewhat vindicated that he’d assimilated something without her having to explain it as though to a child.

“As you say, mow-ing the lawn.” He grinned then and continued explaining, “When I was in Ireland, we called it ‘strumming’ to cut the grass, although we don’t use such a fine machine. We do it manually, with a long-handled sickle.”

“Oh. It sounded rather musical,” she whispered, bending over to pick up Matty.

“Never let it be said that an Irishman can’t keep rhythm with the earth.”

“Well, I’d say the earth around this place certainly needs an orchestration, maestro. Have at it,” she murmured with a grin as she gently cradled the child to her shoulder.

He rose from the sofa and smiled at her. Suzanne had a good sense of humor and he liked that. “I’m sure it’s no more difficult than driving a car. Shall I get started?”

“No, it’s too late in the day for that now,” she said, and began to leave the room. “Tomorrow morning I’ll show you how to start it and then you can strum to your heart’s content. Right now you’re going to drive the car.” With one hand on the banister, she looked back at him and smiled. “I’ll get Matty changed and wrapped up, then I’ll dress and we’re gettin’ outta here, mister. Enough of this wallowing around, feeling sorry for myself. We’ll all go to the video store. Our first outing. It’s a beautiful afternoon and we’ve been cooped up in this house for days now. I think the drive and fresh air would do us all a world of good. Besides, I need to pick up a few things at the grocery too.”

“That’s a grand idea, Suzanne. I’ll bring the car round.”

“Okay, just give us a bit to get ready,” she said, climbing the stairs.

“Of course.” He watched as the new mother whispered sweetly to the child nestled against her neck and a sense of awe pulled at his gut again. He’d felt it once or twice before when he had handed Matty to her for feeding. In spite of his situation, he was definitely becoming attached to the two of them. Just then her question repeated in his mind. Are you terribly unhappy here, Charlie? When she’d asked him, he’d thought he had answered truthfully. But as her voice echoed through his head again, he wasn’t sure if he had been entirely honest.

He mentally began conjuring images of the life he was sure of—a time when he was truly happy. He closed his eyes. There was his betrothed Grace, with their baby in her arms, standing before him and smiling as he showed her the deed to the property where they planned to spend the rest of their lives. He was so proud at that moment. Another memory flashed—his partner Mitch arguing with Suzanne at the door. How he wanted to flog the damnable scoundrel.

Wait! His eyes opened wide. That wasn’t right. He and Grace had never had children. In fact, they hadn’t even shared a moment of union, as propriety required they wait until they were married. Hell, Mitch and Suzanne had never met. How could he be confusing so many details?

He raised his fingers to his temples and began slowly to massage them. Think rationally, he admonished himself. It was obvious to him that somehow his mind was mixing his yesterdays with today and, his whole life was becoming more faint with each day he spent here. Damn, what was happening to him? Was he really beginning to lose his mind? His memories?

The sound of a door closing jarred him out of his self-examination.

“Almost ready, Charlie!” came the shout from upstairs.

“Right,” he called back. Spying the automobile keys on the kitchen counter by the new-fangled telephone, he practically leaped across the room to grab them. Looking down at the flat, shiny metal pieces, he thought again how remarkable the inventions of this future were. He clutched them tightly in his palm and gazed around the house in which he had to admit he was becoming more comfortable with each passing day.

Yet these were places and things and images of a life that wasn’t his. These were the things and lives of others who were not from his time—his life. He had a life. And he knew that was real. Wasn’t it? But then so was this—more real than any dream could possibly be. And if both were real, were there two places that are alive, existing at the same time? Could he find a way to get back to his time? And if he couldn’t, how would he survive and what would he do for the rest of his life in this time? Heaven help him, his head hurt just trying to think about all the possibilities.

Walking toward the door, it was as though his conscience spoke to him, and he recalled he’d heard it said before: Only heaven knows what the future will bring. He nearly laughed out loud at the irony. If the person who said that only knew, he mused.

But Suzanne’s question still nagged at him. Was he unhappy? He reached for the knob and twisted it. As he pulled the door open, sunshine washed warmly over him and illuminated the entire room.

Looking out into the bright day he realized he didn’t know where his happiness lay—was it in a past that was fading from his memory? Or was it in a future which was his present reality? He turned back to the stairs and cast his gaze to the second floor landing.

“Oh, how lovely!” Suzanne remarked as she stood at the top, ready to descend. She was staring out into the sunlit day.

“Yes,” he answered softly, seeing her wearing a short yellow dress and white sweater. Her face almost seemed to beam, radiating happiness. “Yes,” he repeated. “Quite lovely.” Heaven help him… he wasn’t just referring to the day.

 

“C’mon,” she urged, almost giggling at the expression of awe on his face. She was carrying Matty in his infant seat—thank goodness he was sleeping soundly—and they’d just entered Blockbuster. Charlie was standing with his mouth open, staring at the rows upon rows of videos, the laser light display in the corner and the monitors showing the latest hi-tech sci-fi adventure available for renting. She figured it was an assault on the senses after all, and tugged on his shirtsleeve. “It’s okay, Charlie,” she whispered. “Let’s go to the desk and ask for some help.”

“Suzanne, this is…” he didn’t finish his sentence.

“I know,” she answered reassuringly. “C’mon.”

After giving the clerk her list of rentals, they waited for a few minutes as the efficient young man came back to the desk with a stack of seven videos. “We’re going to have a video marathon.” She felt pretty good about herself and her idea of an outing. It wasn’t much, but she was dressed, had pulled her short hair back with a headband, and was wearing makeup for the first time in almost a week.

“You’ll have five days to view these,” the man said, placing their choices on the counter. “Lucky they were all in.”

“Yes,” Charlie murmured. “Lucky.” Turning, he asked her, “We’re going to see all of these in five days? The Great Gatsby, For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Way We Were, The Guns of Navarone, Bridge Over the River Kwa—”

“Kwai,” she offered. “American Graffiti and Coming Home. And, yes, we’re going to see all these in five days. Heck, we haven’t even touched on JFK, Nixon, the Beatles, Woodstock, MTV, the space shuttle… wow, Charlie, you really do have a lot to assimilate.” Seeing that he was overwhelmed, she grinned and spoke more softly. “Look, we’ll start slow with these movies and work our way up to the present. And when we go next door to the grocery store, we can stock up on all sorts of goodies and just veg out for the next five days. We’ll shut out the world and have our own little holiday.”

“Shut out the world,” he repeated, as a group of teenagers came into the store with spiked hair and piercings in their eyebrows, nostrils, and tongues. “Sounds grand,” he muttered as he blinked in disbelief.

Handing Matty’s seat to Charlie, she couldn’t help laughing, knowing how strange those kids must seem to him. Heck, they made her feel old, since the only thing pierced on her body was her ears. She handed the clerk her video card and her bank card, while smiling with anticipation. Spending the next five days ensconced with Charles Garrity seemed downright decadent. Maybe it was time to pamper herself a bit and—

“I’m sorry, ma’am, your card’s been declined.”

Startled, she stared at the man. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your card. It’s been declined.”

“But that’s impossible,” she stated, knowing that last week there had been over two thousand dollars in the checking account.

“That’s what it says,” the young man announced, glancing once more to his monitor.

“Try it again, please,” Suzanne insisted.

She waited as he ran her card through the machine. She could feel her cheeks begin to heat up with annoyance. Really. She’d never had her card declined before. Maybe it was a problem with the magnetic strip or—

“I’m sorry, it’s been declined again. Do you have another form of payment?”

Annoyance immediately turned into embarrassment. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong,” she stammered.

“Maybe you should call your bank.”

“Yes, I will,” she said, fumbling in her wallet for her regular Visa card. “Can you try this one?”

The man took her card and she held her breath while she waited for the response. When she heard the machine processing and a receipt being printed, she released her breath and wanted to cry with relief. What in the world could have happened to her bank card? Figuring she’d call her bank as soon as she got home, Suzanne signed the receipt and picked up the two bags. “Sorry for that,” she murmured, as they stood outside.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked, still holding the infant seat and instinctively pulling the white blanket around Matty’s head.

For just a moment Suzanne was very still as she watched the action. It was obvious to her that Charlie was becoming attached to her son, and she couldn’t deny that it pleased her.

“Suzanne?”

She blinked and looked up at him. Did he also have to be so handsome?

“What are you sorry for?”

“Oh, for what took place inside,” she answered, nodding toward the video store. “I can’t imagine what happened with my card.”

“What is that card? Why don’t you use money? Currency.”

“We use money,” she said, leading him toward the entrance to the supermarket. “We also use what’s called credit cards. The one I was trying to use was a bank card, drawn directly out of my checking account. I don’t know what could have happened…” Her words trailed off as a bizarre thought entered her mind. How she wished she hadn’t left her cell phone on the night table by her bed. “I’m going to call my bank when we get inside the grocery store. Just to make sure.”

She got a cart and positioned Matty’s seat in the front, then pushed him toward the entrance, grateful he was sleeping like an angel.

“I’ll never get used to that,” Charlie said, staring as the automatic doors opened. “They had these at the hospital too.”

Grinning, in spite of the turmoil racing through her head, Suzanne pointed to the top of the door. “Look, there’s a sensor, that little box up there. When it senses motion, the doors open.”

“Remarkable.”

“Uh-huh, now let’s find a telephone.” She started toward the service desk to ask for directions when she realized Charlie wasn’t beside her any longer. Stopping, she turned around and almost burst into laughter.

He was standing with his arms hanging at his sides. His mouth was open and his jaw had dropped in what appeared to be shock. She steered the cart back to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… I have never seen so much food in one place in my entire life!”

She did laugh. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, Mr. Garrity, home of the mega superstores,” she said while waving her arms out to the well stocked aisles of fresh produce and canned goods.

“Such an abundance, Suzanne!” he whispered, obviously still in shock.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

“How far do people come to shop at such a place?”

“How far?” Shrugging, she said, “I don’t know, maybe five or ten miles. There’s one, sometimes two or three of these in almost every town in the country, Charlie.”

“No!”

“Yes, there is.”

“America must surely be the richest country in the world now!”

Nodding, she murmured, “I suppose we are.” And then she looked, really looked around… not like every other week, when she came to the store and took it all for granted. There really was such an abundance and she experienced a moment of guilt. She’d been taking it for granted that the shelves were always fully stocked and healthy vegetables were precisely stacked. She knew there were countries around the world where such a sight would surely be regarded as manna from heaven. “Yes, we are fortunate,” she concluded, then forced her mind back to her situation. “I have to find the telephone.”

She was directed to the front of the store and spied two pay phones attached to the wall. “All right,” she whispered to her sleeping baby while picking up the receiver. “Let’s get this all settled.” She took out her wallet and flipped to the customer service number of her bank. Punching in the numbers, she smiled at an elderly woman who stopped to coo over Matty.

“Yes, hello, this is Suzanne McDermott. I believe there’s a problem with my bank card. I just tried to use it and it was denied. The account number? Yes, of course,” she responded, then read off the required information. As she was put on hold, she waited and mouthed a “thank you” to the sweet grandmotherly woman who pronounced Matty as “absolutely precious” before walking away. It was actually nice to be a mother now, like she was part of a group. She had labored to bring this precious child into the world and was now regarded as paying her dues and— All thoughts of being initiated into the sacred circle of motherhood vanished as the bank clerk came back on the line.

“Would you please repeat that?” she asked as a cold feeling of dread washed over her.

She heard the woman once more declare that the account balance was practically nil. “There must be a mistake. How can there only be ten dollars left? When was the money withdrawn?”

She found out that the checking account had been wiped out the day before. “Would you check our 401K please?” Stay calm, she told herself. Do not panic… yet! “No, I don’t know the account number. I’m in a grocery store,” she nearly yelled, causing Matty to jerk in fright and begin squalling with annoyance at being awakened so rudely.

She tried to pat his leg to quiet him, but it wasn’t working. Slowly, she looked up to see several women, checkers and customers, staring at her with with disgusted expressions, as though she had no business at all being a mother. Shame mixed with her own terror and she took a deep breath. “Fine. Thank you. I’ll call back later,” she muttered, and hung up the phone.

She attempted to recapture a shred of dignity as she nearly raced back to find Charlie. Where had he gone? He wasn’t where she’d left him. Desperate, she scanned the store all the while trying to placate her son, who seemed to be having a royal fit as he yelled and kicked the blanket that bound his legs. “Please, Matty… work with me here,” she pleaded, determined to save some sanity.

And then she spied him, in the bakery department, standing in front of the shelves of doughnuts. Shaking her head, she pushed the cart in that direction, and the closer she got the more she could see that he wasn’t alone. It appeared he was in heated conversation with a worker who was clad in a white coat.

“Save me,” she muttered, blowing a strand of hair away from her eyes that had escaped the headband. It was like she had two children! What kind of trouble was he in now? Even before she reached him, Charlie turned around. It must be the piercing siren of her son’s vocal chords that tipped him off they were approaching.

“What’s wrong?” she asked and then saw a dusting of confectioner’s sugar around his upper lip.

“Well, I ate a crea—”

“He can’t eat the doughnuts without paying for them first,” the man pronounced with almost a snarl as he interrupted Charlie’s explanation. He obviously worked in the bakery and was now acting as though he’d just caught D. B. Cooper.

“I said I have money and I’ll pay for them,” Charlie proclaimed, while shaking his head and giving Suzanne a look of embarrassment. “I will handle this,” he insisted.

Seeing how they were attracting a good deal of attention with Matty’s shrill, insistent cries and the baker’s indignation, Suzanne took another deep breath. Right, as though anything was going to help now. “Look,” she said in a voice loud enough to be heard above the din, “I will pay—”

“But your husband has to know you can’t just walk up and eat these without paying first,” the man interrupted in a still angry voice. “I should call security!”

“He’s not my husband and I said I will pay for the damn doughnut, all right?” It was only a doughnut, after all, yet she would later remember it as being the proverbial straw that broke her once strong back. “As a matter of fact,” she declared in a huff, leaving her crying baby and walking past the man to the shelves of doughnuts, “I think I’ll pay for a whole damn dozen of ’em!” Grabbing up waxy white paper bag, she picked up tongs and threw open the clear plastic doors.

“Let’s see…” she muttered, gazing over the array of goodies. “You liked the cream, right, Charlie?”

“Suzanne. I said I will handle this.”

She almost laughed. She didn’t even like doughnuts, but she sure as hell wasn’t stopping now. In fact, she felt like she was on a mission for these doughnuts. Plucking two cream doughnuts off the shelf, she plopped them into the bag. “Okay, what’s next? Oh, how about glazed? Apple cinnamon? Crullers. They’ll be good for breakfast. And blueberry muffins for the next morning. Technically, they’re not doughnuts, but at least it’s something I can eat and by damn, Charlie, we’re gonna have one hell of a marathon, aren’t we?”

A part of her realized that she was on the verge of losing it, and yet a stronger part was thrilled that for once in her life she was actually standing up for something, not taking the safe, polite way out. And it felt good. It felt real good.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the filled bag toward the baker. “I believe there are eleven in there. Add the one already eaten and charge me for a dozen.”

She walked back to Matty and unbuckled him from his seat. Pulling him up into her arms, she glanced around to those who had stopped to gawk and said, “There’s really nothing left to see, folks. I’m finished.” She didn’t care that some looked at her with rolled eyes or clucked their oh-so superior tongues. How many of them had just bailed out a time traveler and had their checking account nearly closed?

Feeling righteous, Suzanne accepted the marked bag from the baker and said “thank you” before looking at Charlie and motioning with her head for him to follow her. She rocked Matty against her chest and cooed to him, yet she knew nothing was going to satisfy him except her breast. Realizing she had little time, she asked Charlie to push the cart as they walked away.

“Why did you make that scene?” he demanded, following her down the aisle. “Didn’t you hear me? I said I would handle it.”

Evidently he was peeved, but his annoyance was no match for the indignation that was bubbling inside of her. Wait until she got her hands on Kevin! “Look, Kev—” she began, stopping herself before saying the entire name out of confrontational habit. Taking a deep, calming breath while slowing her pace to walk beside him, she continued. “Charlie, it was easier for me to—”

“You didn’t make anything easier,” he interrupted, then lowered his voice. “You made a spectacle of yourself and embarrassed me and that poor fellow back there.” Stopping the cart, he turned and looked directly into her eyes. “I may not understand everything in this day and age, but I’m certain that treating people with a bit of respect hasn’t changed. I can do that. Remember, I’m not a child, Suzanne. I could have worked it out. And I wouldn’t have made a scene, I can tell you that.”

“There already was a scene when I arrived.”

“I was trying to reason with the man when you came up. Men use reason to settle differences, not hysterics. Please don’t ever do that again.”

She took a deep breath, feeling thoroughly admonished. She had treated him like a child. Hearing his words made her realize she had flown off the handle and an apology was due. “I’m very sorry, Charlie.” Now she was embarrassed. Looking back in the direction of the baker, she wondered if she should go and apologize to him too, but he was no longer in sight.

“Apology accepted. Let’s drop it.”

Hearing the clipped tone of Charlie’s voice, she turned her gaze back to him and she knew the blush on her cheeks was quite evident. Damn, she hated how her hormones were betraying her usual self-control. Yeah, sure. When was the last time she had any control?

“Are you all right, Suzanne?” he suddenly asked with a concerned expression. “Is it that postpartum thing again?”

Pulling her shoulders up straighter at the very mention of postpartum blues, she set her jaw and replied, “No, it is not.” She didn’t have time to explain that her bastard of a husband was at the root of the entire mess. “It’s a lot of things, but let’s not discuss it right now. Help me fill this cart with food. And we have to do it in record time.”

“But we have food,” he protested as she threw two loaves of bread into the cart.

“Right, we have it now, but I don’t know how long we’ll continue to have it without any money to pay for it, so we’re going to stock up on everything. I’m going to use this credit card while it still works, and most importantly, we’re going to buy a pacifier!”

Okay, so she’d never win the Mother of the Year award.

At the moment, all she cared about was getting out of the grocery store with enough food to last until she figured out her next move. Well, not her next move. She knew that one. Her body almost tingled with a powerful energy when she thought of confronting Kevin at Ingrid’s. All right, so the tingling might just be her breasts leaking again. But she was going to have it out with Kevin McDermott and find out just what the hell he thought he was doing.

First things first. A pacifier. Food. Feed Matty in the car and then track down that sonofabitch husband of hers and let him have it. What kind of man would do that? Especially with an infant at home? She almost laughed. The same man who cheated on her and then left her while she was pregnant. She felt as if someone had rung a bell in her head and her brain was still reverberating from the shock. It was almost as though she was waking up from a hazy dream.

She had thought herself safe and secure. Comfortable. It was becoming more clear to her that she’d just been sleepwalking through life, but now… now she was wide awake. And life, at the moment, wasn’t pretty. How dare Kevin wipe out their account without speaking to her first? Just how much had she allowed that man to control her life?

She’d get that question answered before the day was done.