MAY 18, 2015
Dr. Thomas Shagull’s clinic, may I assist you?”
The woman’s voice sounded bored and slightly exasperated.
“I’m calling for Dr. Shagull, please.”
“He doesn’t work here any longer.”
Brock frowned at the website on his laptop. “Isn’t his name on the shingle?”
“Yes.”
“And he owns the company?”
“Yes.”
“That kind of implies he works there.”
“John Hancock’s name is on the John Hancock Insurance building, but that doesn’t mean Johnny works there.”
“Good point. My mistake.” Brock sighed. “Any idea how I’d be able to reach the doctor?”
“Dr. Shagull is retired. He’s officially the chairman of the board, but that’s about it.”
“I need to speak with him.”
“I’m sorry. Dr. Shagull is a bit of a recluse these days. He’s not real open to hanging out with fans.”
“I’m not a fan.”
“Exactly what all the fans say.”
“I need his help.” Brock decided to go for broke. “I’ve been having lucid dreams where I go into the past, and it’s changing my present.”
The woman on the other end of the line was silent for what seemed like five minutes. “Can you describe to me what you think has changed?”
“I’d rather not.”
“It’s your choice.” The woman sighed. “What’s your name?”
“Brock Matthews.”
For some unexplained reason, Ms. Ice thawed a bit. “While I don’t know if he’ll respond, I can relay a message.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Brock gave the woman his cell number.
“And Mr. Matthews?”
“Yes?”
“Are you involved in the coffee industry?”
“I am.”
Her voice moved from neutral to warm. “I read an article on you a year or so ago.”
“Is that right?”
“Are you really the person at Black Fedora who develops all the flavors?”
“Guilty.”
“I love your coffee. My favorite is that macadamia-nut-flavored concoction.”
“That’s one of mine as well. Thanks for mentioning that.”
“I sure hope you don’t leave your business like Dr. Shagull did.”
“Believe me, I’m going to be there for a long time.”
Brock’s cell phone rang seventeen minutes later. The caller ID was blocked, but Brock guessed it was Dr. Shagull.
“Hello?”
“Are you the Brock Matthews who grew up in the Seattle area?”
“Yes.”
“We don’t know each other.”
“No.”
“Remarkable.” The caller blew out a sharp breath. “Tell me what happened.”
“Dr. Shagull?”
“I think you already know it is, so let us not waste one another’s time.” The doctor’s voice was firm, but not unkind. “Tell me.”
So much for introductions.
After Brock described the encounter with his younger self in his dream, and how it seemed to have changed things only he remembered, the doctor stayed silent for at least fifteen seconds.
“Are you there, Dr. Shagull?”
“Only one encounter so far?”
“Yes.”
But the moment the words came out of his mouth, he remembered the odd conversation he’d had with Karissa after he’d dreamed about being at the zoo with her, giving her the ring. He described how Karissa recalled the day differently the next morning. Again, the doctor went silent. When he finally responded, his words held a tinge of excitement.
“I’d like to get together.”
“You’re in the Seattle area?”
“Are you available day after tomorrow? Say two in the afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s meet at Robinswood Park.”
“Am I losing my grip on reality? Have you ever heard of this happening before? What should I do before we meet?”
“Try it again.”
“Talking to myself.”
“Yes, what else would I be referring to?”
“Anything else?”
“Don’t be late for our meeting.”
Dr. Shagull hung up without waiting for a response.
Try again? Why not? Brock didn’t believe he’d truly changed things in the present by talking to himself in the past, but there was no way he was going to walk away from what was happening. Deep inside, he knew this experience was part of his dad’s message, and he was determined to unwrap that brown package no matter what was inside.
He had the distinct impression he’d be visiting himself again that night, and when he did he would do a simple experiment to test whether he truly was talking to his younger self. But first, he needed to get into the office. His stomach kept telling him something at Black Fedora was boiling to the surface, and everyone near the pot was about to get scalded.