CHAPTER 66: NATALIE

"Well, Natalie Carson, I'll give you one thing. Your reasons for wanting to leave Arizona next month are a hell of a lot more interesting than mine."

Natalie sank in her seat as she digested the words. She did not have to ask Nick whether he believed a word she had said. She knew he did not.

"I've made a fool of myself."

"You've done no such thing," Nick said. He pulled her close. "You've simply told me a story I find hard to buy. There's a difference — a big difference."

Natalie frowned.

"What do you need to believe me?"

"Some proof would be nice."

"I don't have proof. All I have is a coin that Adam gave me right before you arrived. He didn't give me his driver's license. He didn't think I would need it."

Nick withdrew his arm.

"May I see this coin?"

"Of course," Natalie said. She opened the small purse in her lap, retrieved a 2017 Native American dollar, and handed it to Nick. "That, Mr. Mays, is Exhibit A, B, and C."

The flight instructor held the coin in one hand, flipped it over a few times, and examined it like a rare jewel. Then he paused for a moment, as if considering one of the great questions of the age, and looked at his storytelling companion with amusement.

"Who is the woman on the front?"

"Sacagawea."

"Now that's odd."

"How so?"

"There are no known images of Sacagawea — or at least any that were made of her during her lifetime. At least that's what they taught me in Boulder."

Natalie smiled. Only Nicholas Mays, she thought, could listen to the fantastic claims of a time traveler for almost an hour and then focus his scrutiny on the front side of a coin.

"I'm sure the image is a good guess."

"I imagine it is," Nick said.

"Does that mean you believe me?"

"It means you're making progress."

Natalie answered the comment with a playful glance. If nothing else, she had to give the former educator, a man trained to ask questions, credit for keeping an open mind.

"What more can I do to convince you?"

Nick did not reply right away. He instead took a deep breath, frowned, and gazed at Natalie for more than thirty seconds. When he finally answered her question, he did so in a voice that projected sincerity, genuine interest, and a trace of lingering skepticism.

"You can tell me about the future."

Natalie perked up.

"Can you be more specific?"

"I can try," Nick said.

"What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with something near and dear to me. Tell me about aircraft. What are they like? How fast do they go? Tell me about the world of aviation in 2017."

Natalie laughed.

"You just pitched a softball."

Nick smiled.

"Then knock it out of the park."

"All right, smart guy, I will. You will be happy to know that aircraft in my time are amazing machines. Some are powered by jet engines and can travel more than two thousand miles an hour. A few can take off and land in spaces no bigger than a tennis court. Others can carry hundreds of people halfway around the world in a single flight. People can even fly nonstop from Los Angeles to Singapore. I know because I've done it."

"You flew across the Pacific?"

Natalie beamed.

"Yes, Mr. Mays, I did. I did in 2016."

"That's something."

"It's nothing compared to other things."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked.

"I mean that since the 1960s, men and women have orbited the earth. Some have flown rockets to the moon. Unmanned aircraft have explored Pluto."

"You're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. I'm completely serious. For some highly trained pilots, the world of the twenty-first century is an incredible place. It's a playground. It's Disneyland times ten."

"What's Disneyland?"

Natalie laughed.

"It's a playground for the rest of us."

Nick smiled.

"I'm beginning to believe you believe this stuff."

"I do!"

"Then tell me more. Tell me about products and inventions. Tell me about things that make life easier than it is today. There must be a few."

"There are thousands," Natalie said. "Everything from cars and radios to kitchen appliances are better and faster. Then there are things that don't even exist today or exist in their future form. Televisions won't be exhibits at world's fairs. They will be huge flat screens that hang on walls in millions of homes. Telephones will be small wireless devices that allow people to contact others in seconds. You'll be able to speak to someone in Australia as quickly and clearly as you are speaking to me now. You'll be able to send them mail and photographs and music and movies. You'll be able to do a lot of things."

Nick rubbed his chin.

"Do you have one of these devices?"

Natalie frowned.

"I don't. At least I don't have one here. When my siblings and I left home, we left our modern belongings in the modern world. We did so because we didn't think it was wise to bring anachronistic items to the past. With the exception of that coin and a few other trinkets from 2017, I can't offer you any hard proof that I come from the future."

Nick examined the coin again. Then he returned the dollar to its owner, or at least the woman who had borrowed it from her brother, and gazed at her with curiosity.

"So this world of yours is different?"

Natalie put the coin in her purse.

"It's night-and-day different."

"Are people different?" Nick asked.

Natalie hesitated before giving an answer. She knew she could not speak as glowingly about future societies as she could about future gadgets and did not want to scare Nick away. At the same time, she did not want to lie to him or water down the facts. She had an obligation to tell him what he wanted to know. She had a duty to tell him the truth.

"People are different."

Nick nodded.

"How so? Are they better? Are they worse?"

"I think they are a little of both," Natalie said. "On the plus side, people in 2017 are more educated and tolerant of physical differences than people today. The world is definitely a better place for women, racial minorities, and others. On the other hand, Americans are less tolerant of political differences and far more prone to anger and violence. They argue more in my time than they do in this time. They are divided and often quick to judge."

"I see."

"I don't want to give you the wrong impression. There is still a lot of beauty in the world of the twenty-first century. It's just sometimes harder to find."

"I'm sure it is," Nick said.

"You're disappointed."

"I'm not disappointed. I'm just a little wary. I assume the reason you're telling me all this is because you want me to join you when you leave next month."

"You assume correctly," Natalie said.

"Tell me more about your plans."

"There's not much to say. In seventeen days, my family and I — and possibly several others — will head to Pennsylvania. When we arrive, we'll spend a night or two in Bedford, continue to New Paris on June 21, and enter a time portal. We'll drive through a translucent sheet in an isolated field and travel from 1944 to 1972."

"Why 1972? I thought home was 2017."

"It is. At least it is for my siblings and me. We plan to go to 1972 and maybe 1983 before we go to 2017 because we expect to find our parents there. Nineteen seventy-two and 1983 are the next two stops on my folks' time-travel itinerary. We believe they are here, in 1944, but we don't expect to find them in the next three weeks. If we do, then we will change our plans. We will all travel as a group back to 2017 and stay there."

Nick tapped his fingers on his thigh.

"So if I accompanied you on this trip, I would have to permanently sever my ties with my family, my friends, this time, and everything I have ever known?"

"That's right."

"You don't ask for much, do you?"

Natalie took his hand.

"I'm only asking because I love you. If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't even try to persuade you to join us. I would leave you behind. I would have left weeks ago."

Nick took a deep breath.

"When do you want an answer?"

"I need one by June 14, the day we leave Phoenix. I'm sure that Adam and Greg, who are planning the trip, would like one sooner. They are already obsessing about all the things that could go wrong next month. In any event, you would want to give yourself plenty of time to finish your job at Thunderbird and say goodbye to your family and friends."

"I understand."

Natalie studied Nick's face and searched for clues. She hoped to find something that might tell her what he was thinking, but she could not. All she could see at two thirty on this sizzling afternoon was a man who was overwhelmed and perhaps deeply conflicted.

"Do you have more questions? If you do, just ask. I know I've told you a lot. I know I'm asking a lot. If there is anything I can do to help matters, just let me know."

"There is one thing," Nick said.

"What's that?"

"I would like you to tell me more about future events. If you are, in fact, from 2017, then you know what the world will look like in seventy years. You know how societies and nations and laws will evolve. You know how this war will end."

"I do."

"Then tell me something about it. Give me something I can hang my hat on before I make the decision of my life. Predict an event in the next two or three weeks that I can verify and perhaps even act on. If you can't do that, then I'm not sure I can commit to your trip and sever my ties. I need something tangible. I need something real."

Natalie briefly closed her eyes as she considered his request. For hours she had hoped she could get through this discussion without giving away the store. Now that Nick had asked for the store and everything in it, she had to decide whether he was worth it.

"You've put me in a spot."

"I'm sure I have," Nick said. "That's how love works, Natalie. Each person puts something valuable in the kitty. Each person risks something big to gain something bigger."

"Do you understand what you're asking me to do? You're asking me to tell you things that could put millions of people, including my family, in harm's way."

"I understand. I still need to know."

"All right then," Natalie said. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you something I have no business sharing with a person from this time. Before I do, though, I need you to promise me that you will not share this information with other people, including people in uniform."

Nick looked at her thoughtfully.

"You know I won't."

"Then I'll get to it. On June 6, this June 6, the world as we know it will change forever and change in a good way. More than a hundred thousand Allied troops, half of them American, will storm four beaches in Normandy, France, and turn the tide in this war."

"June 6? That's just nine days away."

"I know."

"That's too early. It's way too early. From what I've read and heard, we haven't put all our men and materiel in place. An invasion now will be a suicide mission."

Natalie shook her head.

"No, Nick, it won't. It will be a successful mission. It'll be one of the most successful invasions of all time and make a very big difference in the war."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive. I read about it growing up. I saw it in movies. I spoke to men and women who participated in the whole thing. It's part of history, at least my history."

Nick smiled sadly.

"It seems I'll miss the action after all."

"You will if you come with me," Natalie said, "but if you stay here and enlist now, you'll have plenty of time to see combat. You'll have more than a year, in fact. You'll have time to fight and bleed and die in a war we will win with or without you."

"You're bitter."

"I'm frustrated! I don't know why this is so difficult."

Nick looked away for a moment.

"It's difficult because I'm an old soul in an old time and because I am averse to change and even risk. It's difficult because I have never been one to leap into things."

"Is that a no?" Natalie asked.

"It's not a no. It's a maybe," Nick said. He leaned toward Natalie and kissed her lightly on the lips. "It's my way of saying I will think this through and give you and your family plenty of time to adjust and prepare. You have my word on that."

CHAPTER 67: GREG

Phoenix, Arizona – Monday, May 29, 1944

"Did she tell him?" Greg asked.

Adam nodded.

"She told him. She told him who we are, where we're going, and why. Then she gave him two weeks to decide whether he wants to join the fun. Isn't love grand?"

"You boys should know," Patricia said. She looked at Adam and then at her husband, who shared her living room sofa. "You wrote the book on picking up souvenirs."

Greg stared at his wife.

"Souvenirs? That's cold, hon."

Bridget grinned.

"I think what Patricia meant to say is that you and Adam know all about the difficulties of courting people of high moral character in an era that is not your own."

Patricia laughed.

"Thank you."

Greg glanced at Adam and Bridget, who sat on the facing sofa, and noticed that they seemed to enjoy the barb as much as his wife. He wondered sometimes what his peers in the family, the people he thought he knew best, really thought at times like this.

"Did Nick commit to anything?"

"No," Adam said. "He just said he'd think about it."

Greg could not blame Nick for hesitating. Though he could not understand how any sane man could walk away from Natalie Carson, he could understand how a man who had come of age in the 1930s could think twice about leaping to the 2010s.

"What do you think he'll do?"

"I don't know," Adam said. "I don't know him as well as you do and certainly not as well as Natalie. If I had to guess, I would guess he comes with us. Unlike Casey McCoy, he has no parents or siblings to consider. Unlike Casey, he has no pressing military commitments."

Greg leaned forward.

"What do you think Casey's going to do?"

"I think he's going to stay," Adam said. "I think it's far more likely that he stays in 1944 and Caitlin stays with him than it is the whole McCoy clan travels with us."

"I don't even want to think about that possibility."

"Perhaps you should," Bridget said.

Greg turned his head.

"Why do you say that?"

"I say it because I spoke to Caitlin late last night. She is very troubled by the prospect of leaving Casey. You should take her feelings for him seriously. She is in love, Greg, deeply in love, and women who are deeply in love do not always act rationally."

Patricia grinned.

"I'll second that."

Greg smiled and sighed as Adam and Bridget laughed. Like his brother and his sister-in-law, the wise sage of the family, he knew when he was licked.

"I'll talk to her when she comes home. I'm already in the doghouse for making a 'puppy love' comment, so I have an added incentive to speak to her soon."

"Where is she now?" Bridget asked.

"She went to a movie with Casey, Natalie, and Nick. That's why she didn't come back with me today. She wants to spend as much time as possible with her flyboy."

"I don't blame her."

Adam jumped in.

"Where's Cody?"

"I don't know," Greg said. "I imagine he's working late. He told me yesterday he's going to try to deliver more supplies on Mondays and Tuesdays so he can spend more of his Wednesdays at Gila River. I think he's caught the love bug too."

"There's no 'think' about it," Bridget said.

Adam leaned back on his sofa.

"It doesn't matter. Even if Cody liked Naoko only as a friend, he's already made the case to take her and her family to Pennsylvania. I just hope he doesn't say or do something stupid in the next two weeks. We don't need any new complications."

Bridget looked at Greg.

"Have you and Adam worked out all of the particulars? I know there is a lot to consider when taking a Japanese family across the country."

"We have it covered," Greg said.

Bridget turned to her husband.

"Adam?"

"Greg's right," Adam said. "Even though we're both a little nervous about sneaking the family into cabins and motor courts, we're confident we can pull it off."

Bridget continued.

"Does the family have permission to leave camp?"

Adam nodded.

"Dr. Watanabe has obtained a day pass and is trying to obtain a week pass. If he can score one of those, we'll have maximum flexibility on the trip. That's why I'm more confident than worried. As long as nothing new falls on our plate, we'll be fine."

Greg laughed to himself as he considered Adam's statement. If there was one thing the Carson family could count on, it was a last-minute time-travel complication.

Greg gave travel complications another moment of thought and then turned his attention to something far more pressing — his stomach. Since eating a peanut butter sandwich at Thunderbird Field at eleven o'clock, he had not so much as looked at food.

"Has anyone eaten yet?"

"I did at three," Patricia said.

Greg looked at Adam and Bridget.

"How about you two?"

"No," Adam said.

Bridget shook her head.

"Then let's go out to dinner," Greg said. "I'll treat. If Cody shows up in the next five minutes, he can come too. I just need more than a sandwich tonight."

"I do too," Adam said. "Let's go."

Seeing no dissent in the room, Greg scooted forward and started to get up. He got as far as the edge of the sofa when he heard the sound of footsteps on the front porch.

A few seconds later, he saw Cody, dressed in his work attire, open the door, enter the house, and step into the living room. He frowned when his younger brother, carrying a single business envelope, made eye contact and slowly walked his way.

"This came in the mail," Cody said. He handed the envelope to Greg and stared at him with worried eyes. "I guess the mailman came late today."

Greg took the envelope, noted the return address, and sighed. Then he ripped open the envelope, removed the official communication inside, and started to read. He did not need to read more than the first two sentences to know that his complicated and unpredictable life had taken a complicated and unpredictable turn.

When he finished reading the letter, he passed it to Patricia, fell back onto the sofa, and stared at the ceiling like a man questioning his maker. Then he exhaled, gazed at Adam with empty eyes, and spoke in a voice that was completely devoid of energy.

"It appears Uncle Sam has had his say."

"What do you mean?" Adam asked. "What happened?"

"I've been summoned by our friends in uniform, the ones who have wanted me for a long time," Greg said. "I've been asked to appear on the fourteenth. I've been drafted."

CHAPTER 68: CODY

Rivers, Arizona – Wednesday, May 31, 1944

Cody felt the chill long before he reached his destination. As he drove from the front gate of Butte Camp to the east side of its hospital, he saw more frowns and fewer smiles than on his previous trips. He heard fewer laughs. For the first time as a visitor to the Gila River War Relocation Center, he felt like he was visiting a prison.

Even people he knew, people who usually greeted him on his drives through camp or on his long walks with Naoko, kept to themselves. They seemed to have better things to do than say hello to the boy who delivered sponges and syringes on Wednesdays.

Three minutes later, Cody parked his truck in the hospital lot, pulled two small boxes from the back, and carried the boxes to the front of the medical facility. As he walked up the front steps and through the main door, he noticed the sour mood of the staff and the patients, who glumly went about their business. Something, he thought, had changed.

He smiled at Florence Sales, the receiving nurse, as he approached her desk, frowned when she did not respond, and then continued toward the hallway, the clinic, and a young woman who had enchanted him for months. He knew if there was one person who could explain the atmosphere at Butte Camp, it was Naoko Watanabe.

Cody proceeded down the empty hallway, passed through the open clinic door, and stepped into the lobby. As he had on all but a few of his visits, he found the small public space unoccupied. He scanned the area for his friend.

"Naoko?"

No one replied.

"Naoko? It's Cody. Are you here?"

For more than thirty seconds, Cody Carson, delivery boy and friend, stood in the middle of the lobby and waited for someone to show. When the seconds turned into a minute, he began to think that something serious, something very serious, had happened.

Once again, Cody called out. Once again, he heard nothing. He frowned and stepped toward the mostly bare counter. If nothing else, he thought, he could leave the boxes for the doctor and a note for his daughter. He placed the boxes on the counter, searched for a pen and a pad, and mentally prepared himself for a quick exit from camp.

He found a pen and a pad a few seconds later, pulled them close, and gathered his thoughts before writing a note he did not want to write. He scribbled "Dear Naoko" near the top of the top sheet and started the first line, but he did not finish it before he heard a stirring sound that seemed to emanate from the storage room in back.

A moment later, a woman, a pretty young woman in a white cotton dress, emerged from the room, shut the door, and stepped into the work area. When she finally looked at her visitor, her gentleman caller, she gazed at him with tired and tearful eyes.

"Hi," Naoko said in a lifeless voice.

"What's the matter?" Cody asked.

"Everything."

"I don't understand."

Naoko took a deep breath and walked to the counter. Sluggish, somber, and clearly defeated, she looked nothing like the spirited and energetic girl who had pulled Cody into a dark alley and smothered him with kisses only seven days earlier.

"We can't come with you," Naoko said. She wiped away a tear. "Camp officials have revoked our leave next month and confiscated my father's papers. They are interrogating him now in the administrative building. They are trying to determine if he's a spy."

Cody stared at her with wide eyes.

"A spy? Your father's not a spy."

"They think he is. They think he has knowledge of strategic value and wants to share that knowledge with the Germans or the Japanese on his next leave from camp."

"Why? What happened?"

"Kana talked!" Naoko hissed. "She ruined everything. She told a friend that something big was going to happen on June 6. She told a girl who has the biggest mouth in camp."

Cody pressed his temples as several thoughts rushed through his head and he battled everything from guilt and fear to confusion. He could not believe that his plans, his carefully crafted plans to liberate a family from this restrictive place, had turned into mush.

"I don't understand. Why would anyone think your father is a threat to report something on the sixth if he's not leaving camp until the fourteenth? He told all of us he would cancel the first trip. He said he would do it right away. Didn't he do it?"

Naoko shook her head.

"He wanted to keep the sixth in reserve. He wanted an option in case camp officials canceled our leave on the fourteenth. So he kept the papers for both trips."

Cody felt his heart sink as he watched his friend — his strong, confident, indomitable friend — dissolve into tears. He reached across the counter and took her hands.

"We can still fix this. I know we can."

"No, we can't," Naoko said. "The director has canceled all leaves in June and July. He is not taking any chances. He has shut this place down."

"Then why did the guards let me in?"

"They don't think you're involved. Nor does the director. Kana, thank God, didn't tell her friend about your visits or mention you by name."

Cody squeezed her hands.

"Then there's still a chance."

"No, there's not!" Naoko said. "It's only a matter of time before they put two and two together. You're not safe here. You must leave now and never come back."

"Why? They have nothing on me."

"They do though."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Kana didn't just tell her blabbermouth friend that something big was going to happen next week. She told her that a man, a man close to our family, was going to take us to Pennsylvania in June. She said this man was going to take us to the future ."

Cody cringed. He wondered what he had done to deserve this. Then he remembered exactly what he had done. He had opened his big mouth one too many times.

"Did Kana say more?"

"No," Naoko said, "She didn't need to. She had already said enough to put many people at risk, including you and every member of your family. You must go, Cody."

"Give me a week. Give me time to at least talk to the others. If we can't do this, then we can't do it, but I don't want to give up just yet. Can you give me a week?"

Naoko gazed at him with affection.

"I'd rather give you years."

"That's my girl," Cody said in a cheerful voice. He leaned across the counter, gave Naoko a soft kiss, and studied her beautiful face one last time. "I'll come back next Wednesday. Even if all I can do is say goodbye, I'll come back. I promise. I'll return."

"You do that," Naoko said. She lifted Cody's hands, kissed them, and smiled at him through a fresh veil of tears. "I'll be waiting."

CHAPTER 69: ADAM

Phoenix, Arizona – Saturday, June 3, 1944

As he sat at his patio table, surrounded by brothers, sisters, and a suspiciously quiet wife, Adam wanted to get away. In his nearly twenty-nine years on God's green earth, he had never confronted as many problems at once as he did on this blistering morning.

"I think it goes without saying that we have a lot to discuss. At least three of us want to take our friends to the future, one of us has a date with a draft board, and all of us are persons of interest at the FBI. This family has had a productive spring."

"I still think it's too early to panic," Greg said.

"Is it?" Adam asked. He sipped some bitter coffee. "We have eleven days, maybe less, to find solutions to our problems, including a new one that just dropped on our plate."

"What new problem?"

"Let me tell you. After most of you left for your dinners, dances, and movies last night, I walked downtown and had a pleasant little chat with Jack Sawyer. Our favorite FBI agent invited me to drop by his office to discuss finances and income taxes. He wants to know why no one in this family filed a state or federal tax return before this year."

"Isn't that the IRS's job?" Greg asked.

"It isn't in Phoenix, Arizona."

"What did you tell him?"

Adam took another sip.

"I told him that only three of us have held jobs in recent years and that none of us has made enough money to justify a federal return, much less a state one."

"What did he say?" Patricia asked.

Adam turned to his sister-in-law.

"He said he didn't believe me. Then he asked for financial documents. He wants to know how we managed to purchase a car and lease a house before we landed jobs."

"Did you give him an answer?"

"I thought about it. I considered telling him about our 'inheritance' and our bank accounts here in town, but I didn't want to do so before speaking with all of you."

Patricia tilted her head.

"So what did you do?"

"I asked for time. I asked for three weeks to get our finances in order, retrieve some documents in Flagstaff, and set up another meeting. To my surprise, he gave me two."

"We'll be gone in two weeks," Greg said.

Adam smiled.

"That's my hope. I hope when Agent Sawyer returns from his vacation on June 16 that we are halfway to Pennsylvania. Whether we are or not depends on all of you."

Greg leaned back in his chair.

"You know where I stand on that."

"Yes, I do. What I don't know is where the rest of you stand," Adam said. He scanned every face at the table. "Despite what some of you have said in recent days, I'm worried that some of you may not want to leave on June 14, if you want to leave at all."

Natalie glared at her oldest brother.

"You can say my name, Adam. I'm not afraid to tell everyone what I will say to Nick if he turns down my offer. I have already told you I'll stick to the plan."

"What if he wants more time?"

"I won't give it to him. As much as I love Nick Mays, I love this family more. I will be ready to leave on the fourteenth. I'll be ready to travel on the twenty-first."

"Fair enough," Adam said. He looked at Caitlin. "What about you? Will you be ready to leave Phoenix in eleven days if Casey and his family can't join us?"

"I don't know," Caitlin said.

Adam sank in his chair when he heard the words. He knew from Caitlin's tone alone that she was still conflicted and that the rest of the family was in for a long morning.

"What do you mean by 'I don't know'?"

Caitlin stared across the table.

"I mean I can't give you an answer. I won't be able to give you any answers until I speak to Casey's parents next Saturday. I'm not making any decisions until then."

"You can't do this, Caitlin."

"Do what?"

"You can't stay behind," Adam said. "You have to leave this month. You have to honor your commitment to each and every one of us and leave when we do."

"Who says?" Caitlin asked.

"I do. So does Greg. So does Natalie. So does Cody."

"That's not true," Cody said.

Adam closed his eyes.

"What's not true?"

"It's not true I think Caitlin has to leave this month. I don't think any of us should have to leave this month. I do think we need to explore this some more."

Natalie, Greg, and Patricia perked up when Cody spoke. Caitlin gave her twin, her best buddy, a knowing smile. Bridget gazed at Cody with eyes that Adam could not read.

"I'm listening," Adam said.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't stick to the plan," Cody said. "I'm just saying we should be open to other options. You and Greg have both said we could catch up to Mom and Dad in December, if necessary, or even next June. Why can't we consider doing that?"

"Did you not read Greg's draft notice?"

"I did."

Adam folded his hands atop the table.

"Then you know he is supposed to report to the National Guard armory the day we leave for Pennsylvania. That's a problem. If he reports for his physical, he'll be subject to immediate induction. If he skips his appointment, he'll be subject to immediate arrest."

"I know that. I just think we need to consider delaying our trip. We haven't even discussed that as a serious possibility. I think we should do so now."

"Maybe we should. Maybe we should start by having you tell us what we might gain by sticking around six months to a year. I can tell you what we might lose."

"I can't give you a good answer," Cody said. "I can only tell you that Naoko and her family can't leave camp this month. All leaves have been revoked until August."

"I know. I read about the changes at Gila River in the papers. I hope those changes and others have nothing to do with a certain truck driver."

"They don't."

Adam wondered if that was true. He knew Cody had shared at least some tidbits about the future with the Watanabe family. He just didn't know which ones.

Adam pondered all he had heard in the meeting, including Caitlin's defiant stand and Cody's change of heart, and considered his next course of action. For the first time as the de facto leader of the Carson clan, he felt completely lost. So he turned to the person he trusted most in these situations, the one person who had not yet spoken.

"What do you think, dear?"

"I think it's pointless to rush the gun," Bridget said. "I think we should wait until Natalie hears from Nick and Caitlin speaks to Casey and his parents. If circumstances change for Naoko and her family, we can consider them too. We have eleven days, Adam. We have eleven days to make our final decision. Let's make the most of them."

CHAPTER 70: NATALIE

Tuesday, June 6, 1944

Seconds after entering Saguaro Sam's, a popular diner only five blocks from her home, Natalie knew she was in for a difficult time. When she spotted Nick Mays in a distant booth, she saw not a cheerful future fiancé but rather a man with weary eyes, a sad smile, and an answer she probably did not want to hear.

She felt her stomach spin as she approached the padded booth, one of twenty in the narrow dining area, and smiled when Nick stood up to greet her. She noticed that he wore the white shirt and gray slacks he had worn on New Year's Eve.

"Hi, handsome."

"Good evening," Nick said. He motioned to Natalie, waited for her to sit in the booth, and then returned to the seat that faced her. "Have you had dinner?"

"I have," Natalie said.

"Can I get you a drink then?"

"Do they serve beer?"

"They do."

"Then I'll have one."

Nick held up his hand, summoned a waitress to the table, and ordered two bottles of a local lager. When the server, a pretty blonde in a red checked dress and a white apron, returned with the drinks a minute later, he resumed the conversation.

"I'm surprised you don't know about this place."

Natalie forced a smile.

"Oh, I know about it. I've just avoided it."

"Why?"

"I don't care for the name. The name Sam brings up difficult memories. I lost a man I loved, a journalist named Sam Prentiss, in the Johnstown flood of 1889."

Nick frowned.

"I should have picked a different place."

"You did fine," Natalie said. "I'm more concerned about the sad smile I saw on your face when I walked into the diner. I'm concerned about that a lot."

"I guess I don't have a poker face."

"Few people do."

Nick sipped his beer, turned his head, and stared at two women in the facing booth as they listened to a radio broadcast of the invasion of France. Then he took a deep breath, returned to the woman in his booth, and gazed at her with gentle eyes.

"It seems your prediction was right."

Natalie returned his gaze.

"It's easy to predict things one has read about in school. It's a lot more difficult to predict the actions of a conflicted man. I can see you're still torn."

"I am."

"What are you thinking about?"

Nick took another pull.

"I'm thinking about all of the things you told me last week, my priorities, and the demons still tormenting my mind. I'm also thinking about my affection for you and even that mixed-up crew you call your family. I like them. I like them a lot."

"I'll tell them."

"Please do."

Natalie sipped her beer, looked out her window, and watched a couple push a stroller down the sidewalk. She wondered what the man and the woman, who appeared to be in their late twenties, were thinking on this most historic of days. Were they thinking about the thousands of soldiers, sailors, and airmen who had died in Normandy? Or were they thinking about homes, schools, and baby clothes? Natalie envied those who could set aside big issues and focus on the small. She envied those who could live a normal life .

"Have you reached a decision?"

"I have," Nick said. "I've decided to stay."

Natalie closed her eyes as she digested the words. Though she had expected Nick to deliver that verdict, she still found it hard to accept.

"Why?"

"I'm a coward, that's why."

"You're not a coward," Natalie said. "Cowards don't risk life and limb every day teaching novices how to fly sophisticated aircraft. Nor do they consider rushing into war."

"How do you know that's what I want to do?"

"I can see it on your face. I can hear it in your voice. I'm sure you wish you were flying missions over France right now. I know you, Nick."

"I suppose you do. You're right too. I do want to fight. I want to visit Colonel Raines tomorrow and tell him I want to fly B-29s. I want to tell him and others that I want to join this great cause while I still can, but that's not all I want to do."

"Oh?"

Nick shook his head.

"I also want to tell you how much I love you. Then I want to at least try to convince you to stay in this time and build a life with me here."

"You don't ask for much, do you?"

"It's funny you say that."

"Why?" Natalie asked.

"I said the same thing in Tucson. I said you don't ask for much. I questioned how you could ask me to give up my family and everything I have ever known to be with you."

"I guess I'm selfish."

"If you are, then so am I. So is every man and woman who has ever drawn a line in the sand and refused to cross it, even for love. You aren't any more selfish than the rest of us."

"You make intransigence sound noble."

Nick smiled sadly.

"Perhaps it is."

"You know I can't leave my family."

"I know. I just had to ask. I'm not sure I could have faced myself in the mirror tomorrow knowing that I didn't at least try. You're a woman worth pursuing."

"Then pursue me," Natalie said. "Come with me to a time where you can live with me and start a family and fly as many damn planes as you want. Even if you can't have everything you want, you can still have most things. You can still have a good life."

"I suppose I can. I want that life too. I want it as much as you do, but I don't want it in 1972 or 1983 or 2017. I want it in a time that makes sense to me."

"Is this just about comfort?"

Nick shook his head.

"It's about a lot of things. It's about Dolores and a sense of duty and a desire to do something meaningful and important. If I don't enlist now and satisfy that burning desire, I will never be a happy man. I will never be at peace with myself or with others."

Natalie resisted the urge to cry.

"Then I guess that's it."

"I guess it is," Nick said. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"Would you like me to drive you home?"

Natalie shook her head.

"I'll walk."

Nick nodded and frowned. Then he slid out of his seat, placed a ten-dollar bill on the table, and looked at Natalie with sympathetic eyes.

"Take care of yourself."

"You too," Natalie said.

Nick leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Goodbye."

Natalie fell into a funk as Nicholas Mays, product of the 1940s, turned around, started down the aisle, and headed for the door. Though she had been certain she could handle any outcome, she was not so certain now. As she had done with Samuel Prentiss, Tom Jackson, and even Rick Mason, her lying, cheating boyfriend in 2017, she had rolled the dice for love and come up empty. She had failed at the simplest of tasks.

A few minutes later, Natalie peered out her window again. She watched closely as Nick got into his car, pulled out of his parking space, and drove away.

She gazed at the street as other cars came and went, darkness fell, and another chapter in her unsatisfying life came to an end. Then she finished the rest of her beer, stared blankly at the facing seat, and did what she promised herself she would not do. She placed her head in her hands, succumbed to the moment, and cried.

CHAPTER 71: CODY

Rivers, Arizona – Wednesday, June 7, 1944

Cody tried to keep his bladder in check. Sitting at a round table with a colonel, a major, and a civilian administrator who stared at him with suspicion, he did his best to maintain his composure in a confrontation that was unexpected, stressful, and scary as hell.

Cody knew he had a right to call a lawyer. He had a right to do a number of things in a situation such as this, but he did not want to do them now. All he wanted to do on this Wednesday afternoon, his last as a truck driver for Maricopa Medical Supplies, was to leave the Gila River War Relocation Center in one piece.

"Why am I here?" Cody asked.

"You're here," William Tate said, "because we believe you have exchanged information, sensitive information, with at least a few residents of this government facility."

Cody looked at the bureaucrat, who had ordered his detention, and realized he had a decision to make. He could fold or fight. If he folded and admitted everything, he might earn a trip to a mental institution. If he fought and admitted nothing, or at least nothing of value, he might walk away unscathed. Or he might invite additional scrutiny and bring the full weight of the United States government down on his family.

In the end, he decided to fight. He opted to challenge his accusers because he knew the case against him was as flimsy as a reed bending in a summer breeze.

"You're mistaken," Cody said. "I have exchanged nothing except pleasantries with the residents, who, I might add, are loyal, law-abiding, and honorable American citizens."

Tate looked at U.S. Army Colonel Thomas Cates and Major Richard McGinnis, who had been asked to participate in the interrogation, and smiled.

"I think I know where this is going, gentlemen. Shall we hear what he has to say or turn him over to the boys at the Bureau in Phoenix? I could go either way."

"Let him speak," Cates said.

Tate returned to Cody. Though he seemed eager to put the accused in his place, he seemed even more interested in putting the matter behind him.

"This is your lucky day, Mr. Carson. I will give you the chance to waste more of our valuable time. I suggest you make the most of the opportunity."

"What do you want to know?" Cody asked.

"Well, for one thing, I would like to know what you told Hideki Watanabe when you met with him on May 10. I heard you tipped him off about a matter of strategic importance."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Kana Watanabe does."

"What?"

"I'm sorry," Tate said. "I guess I didn't tell you. I spoke to the girl yesterday. She told me that you warned her family about a 'big' event on June 6, an event that would leave the military and many others on high alert."

"She's mistaken."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Cody said. "When I spoke to her family, I did not warn them about anything except my pending departure. I told them I was quitting my job the week of June 6 and that they would probably never see me again. I did so as a courtesy to people I like."

"I see."

"Is that all she said?"

"No, Mr. Carson, it is not," Tate said. "Kana also told me that you planned to take her entire family to Pennsylvania on their next leave from camp."

"That's not true."

"I think it is. I think you cooked up a scheme, with the doctor, to take his family to a place where they could live freely and perhaps undermine the national security of the United States. I think you did all that and more."

Cody bristled.

"You're crazy."

"I don't think so."

"Has anyone corroborated this charge?"

"No," Tate said. "Fortunately for you, Dr. Watanabe, his wife, and their oldest daughter have said precious little on the matter. They believe this is all a misunderstanding."

"It is," Cody said.

"We'll see about that."

"What else did Kana tell you?"

Tate rubbed his hands together.

"She told me something fascinating."

"What's that?" Cody asked.

"She said you're from the future."

"Are you joking?"

Tate grinned.

"No, young man, I'm not."

Cody frowned when he heard the words. He knew he was as cooked as a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. Then he realized he wasn't cooked at all.

The camp director had not cornered a rat. He had opened a door. He had given Cody a golden opportunity to get out of one of the biggest messes of his life.

"Did Kana give details?" Cody asked.

"She did. She gave me plenty."

"Then please share them. I'm sure the colonel and the major would love to hear the particulars of Kana's unusual claim. I know I would."

Tate hesitated when Colonel Cates and Major McGinnis directed their full attention to the man running the show. He seemed to understand that Cody had set a trap.

"The girl said you're from the future. She said you and your siblings are time travelers who intend to travel to 1972 or 2017 later this month."

"Really?" Cody asked. "She told you this?"

"She did. Kana said you planned to take her family to the future so that her mother could receive the medical treatment she requires. She was as clear as day."

"Do you believe her?"

Tate sighed.

"I don't know what to believe."

Cody pounced. When he heard Tate's words and the doubt in his voice, he turned to the Army officers who called the shots in this kangaroo court and pressed his advantage.

"I want you gentlemen to consider what Mr. Tate is doing. He is accusing me of all sorts of things and basing his accusations entirely on the word of a fourteen-year-old girl who thinks I'm a time traveler. If you believe his charges have merit, then arrest me now and let me call an attorney and the newspapers. If you don't, then let me go. That's all I ask."

Cates glanced at McGinnis, shook his head, and then turned to Tate, who seemed positively dumbstruck by the turn of events. The colonel, like the major, looked like a man who had better things to do at three thirty on a weekday afternoon.

"I have heard nothing that justifies holding this man. Write a full report, submit it to the proper authorities, and get on with the business of running this place."

Tate protested.

"What about—?"

Cates raised a hand.

"Let it go, Bill."

Defeated and embarrassed, Tate sank in his chair. He appealed to the Army officers one last time with his eyes and then turned to Cody, who managed to contain his glee.

"You're free to go."

"Thank you, Mr. Tate. I do have one request."

"What's that?"

Cody looked at him thoughtfully.

"I would like to say goodbye to the Watanabe family. If you think it's necessary, send someone with me. I don't care. I just want to say goodbye."

To Cody's great surprise, Tate did not reject the request out of hand. He instead looked again at the colonel, acknowledged the officer's subtle nod, and returned to Cody.

"I'll give you thirty minutes."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

CHAPTER 72: CODY

Minutes after the tense interrogation, a military police officer escorted Cody into the hospital but not into the clinic. Like the colonel and the major, he seemed to understand that the teen truck driver was not an imminent threat to America's national security.

Cody rewarded the officer by proceeding as swiftly as he could. He said goodbye to each member of the Watanabe family quickly and in a way that was appropriate.

He started with Hideki. After greeting him with a smile and a handshake, Cody praised the doctor for his courage and thanked him for his discretion and tact. Hideki, in turn, thanked Cody for giving him hope in a hopeless time and wished him well in his future endeavors. Then he hugged the thoughtful boy like the son he did not have.

Kyoko did much the same. She embraced Cody warmly and told him how much she appreciated his kindness and compassion. Cody, for his part, offered Kyoko words of hope. Knowing that cancer sufferers sometimes beat the odds through good living, he advised her to eat well, exercise, and maintain a positive outlook. He did not doubt she would.

Kana did not rush to greet the visitor. She hid in a closet when Cody came to the desk. No doubt embarrassed by what she had done, she headed for the tall grass at the first sign of trouble. Cody responded by coaxing her out of the closet, telling her that he forgave her error in judgment, and giving her a brotherly hug that surely made her day.

When Hideki, Kyoko, and Kana finally left the clinic at four, Naoko hung the CLOSED sign on its hook, shut the door, and returned to Cody, who stood alone in the middle of the familiar lobby. She seemed both sad and relieved as she approached her friend.

"I'm glad you forgave Kana," Naoko said. "She needed a hug like the rest of us need a ticket out of this place. She'll be back to herself in no time."

Cody smiled.

"I hope so. She's a good kid."

Naoko studied his face.

"Are you all right?"

"I am now," Cody said. "I wasn't sure an hour ago. Bill Tate, the director, hit me with everything but a treason charge. He mentioned our meetings, the 'big' event, the trip, your mom, and even my history as a time traveler. He knows as much as your sister."

"So how did you get out?"

"I threw Kana under the bus."

Naoko's eyes grew wide.

"You what?"

"Relax," Cody said. "It's just an expression. When Tate thought he had me, I reminded Colonel Cates and Major McGinnis, who were also there, that the director's entire case rested on the word of a girl who thought I was a time traveler. The Army officers weren't too impressed with that. They told Tate to let me go and file a report."

Naoko eyed the closed door.

"Do they know you're here now?"

Cody nodded.

"I asked Tate for permission to see your family, and he granted it. He gave me thirty minutes to say goodbye. Imagine that. After detaining me, interrogating me, and practically accusing me of treason, he let me consort with the 'enemy' one last time."

Naoko smiled and took Cody's hands.

"I'm glad he did."

"I am too," Cody said. He met her gaze. "I had to see you again. I had to see you today. I couldn't leave on a sour note. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye."

"You didn't."

"No, I didn't."

Naoko frowned.

"Are you still leaving Arizona this month?"

Cody nodded.

"Even though Caitlin is dragging her feet, I think we'll leave, as scheduled, on the fourteenth. We can't stay here much longer under the circumstances."

Naoko squeezed his hands.

"I'm going to miss you."

Cody returned the gesture and then closely examined Naoko's beautiful face. He noticed that her eyes, the big brown works of art that had enchanted him since his first visit, had started to fill with tears. He released her hands and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Don't cry."

"Why not?" Naoko asked.

Cody sighed.

"Oh, hell, go ahead. I probably will too."

Naoko laughed through her tears.

"It's OK. Boys can cry."

"I know. I have a million times," Cody said. He wiped away another tear. "Are you going to be all right? I can't leave until I know."

"I'll be fine."

"Promise me something."

"What?" Naoko asked.

"Don't let this place bring you down. Don't let society bring you down. When you leave this pit and get out in the world, pursue your dreams. Go to medical school. Get the degree you want. Get the training. Do what you need to do to succeed."

"Won't I need money?"

"You will," Cody said.

"So how will I get it?"

"You'll earn it. You'll work hard and study hard and maybe cash in on the good fortune your buddy is leaving you. I'm really counting on that."

Naoko looked at him warily.

"What do you have up your sleeve?"

"That's the wrong question," Cody said. He grinned. "The right question is, 'What do I have in my pocket?' Or better yet, 'What did I bring to camp?'"

"Cody?"

The time traveler reached into his pants pocket, the one Bill Tate did not bother to search, and pulled out a folded envelope. He handed the envelope to Naoko.

"That's a little present from me. Actually, it's a present from Adam, Greg, and the rest of my thoughtful siblings. They just don't know they're giving it to you."

Naoko opened the envelope and found ten fifty-dollar war bonds that Adam had purchased in 1918. She thumbed through them and then offered them back to Cody.

"I can't take these."

"Sure you can," Cody said. "I want you to take them. Spend them. Invest them. Take them to the track. I don't care. Just use them to finance a better life."

Naoko hugged her benefactor.

"Thank you."

Cody grinned.

"You're welcome."

"I'll spend them wisely. I promise," Naoko said. She pulled back from Cody, looked at him with awe, and tucked the envelope in her skirt pocket. "I'll make sure that Kana and I both go to college. I won't spend the money at some stupid track."

Cody laughed.

"Don't rule it out."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Assault will win the Triple Crown in 1946 and Citation in 1948. Keep that in mind if you want to drive a nice car on your way to Harvard."

Naoko beamed.

"Then I will."

Cody nodded his approval. He leaned in for a kiss, but he pulled back when the MP, whom he had left in the hallway, knocked on the door and told him to "wrap it up."

"I'll be right out," Cody said.

Naoko laughed again through her tears.

"Your thirty minutes are up."

Cody smiled.

"That's the story of my life."

Naoko took his hand and kissed it.

"Let me walk you outside."

"No," Cody said. He sighed. "Let's say goodbye here. I want to leave you where I found you four months ago. I want to remember the girl who wants to be a doctor."

"What if I don't become a doctor?"

"You will."

"You'll never know," Naoko said.

Cody chuckled.

"Oh, yes I will. I'll check up on you. If it's the last thing I do in 1972 or 1983 or even 2017, when you're ninety-one and still practicing medicine, I'll check up on you."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Please do."

"You should go," Naoko said. She wiped away a tear. "As much as I want to keep you from leaving, I don't want you to spend time in the brig. It's smelly in there."

Cody tilted his head.

"How would you know?"

Naoko laughed.

"I cleaned it last fall. I cleaned it with a friend."

Cody looked at his girl, his smart, enchanting, and funny girl, one last time and gave her the smile she wanted. He would miss her. He would miss her a lot.

"Goodbye, Naoko," Cody said. He lifted his hands, placed them on her shoulders, and kissed her on the lips. "Be happy. Be healthy. Think of me whenever you're bored."

Naoko looked at him with longing.

"How about I just think of you?"

"You do that," Cody said. He smiled. "I'll think of you too."

CHAPTER 73: CAITLIN

Phoenix, Arizona – Thursday, June 8, 1944

On her sixth day as a former aircraft maintenance specialist, Caitlin Carson washed and folded clothes, wrote in her journal, and mentally prepared for her reunion with the man of her dreams. Unlike Natalie, who had chosen to work one more week, she saw no point in returning to Thunderbird Field. She valued time more than money and did not want to squander the precious days of June greasing engines and washing wings.

As she sat on her bed and folded socks, including a few for her lazy brothers, she pondered the night ahead. She anticipated meeting Casey at six, smothering him with hugs and kisses, and taking him to dinner. She even looked ahead to Friday, when they would sneak off to a hotel, and Saturday, when they would greet his family at the train station.

Caitlin looked forward to meeting Magnus, Amelia, and Sally. She looked forward to meeting them and discussing possibilities because she had possibilities to discuss.

Shortly after leaving the contentious family meeting on Saturday, Caitlin had found the answer to her problem. She had found the incentive she needed to persuade Reverend and Mrs. McCoy to follow the time travelers to the future. That incentive was money.

Though Caitlin could not offer the couple everything they would miss, she could offer them the one thing they would need . By applying her knowledge of the future to everything from sports events to the stock market to real estate, she knew she could make a bundle and promise Casey's family a lifetime of riches and financial peace of mind.

If she faced a remaining obstacle, it was time. She had only four days to close the biggest deal of her life. If she did not convince Casey, his parents, and his sister to sign off on that deal by the time the Carson family left for Pennsylvania, she knew she never would.

So Caitlin plotted. She plotted, planned, and tried to consider every snag and nuance that might come up when she told Casey about the past and his parents about the future.

Adam and Greg, much to Caitlin's surprise, approved of her scheme to bribe the minister and his wife. Relieved that they no longer had to smuggle a Japanese family across the country, they suddenly looked at Caitlin's plans as "reasonable," "manageable," and even "admirable." They told their sister they would help her any way they could.

Though Caitlin was sad that Naoko Watanabe, a potential BFF, and Nick Mays, a potential brother, would not join her family on its long and potentially dangerous trip from Phoenix to New Paris, she was glad they had finally found contentment. She knew what it was like to anticipate big changes and have to settle for little ones.

After folding six of Adam's socks, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, jumped onto the floor, and walked a few feet to her dresser, where a small radio, the center of entertainment in her bedroom, waited. She reached for the smallest knob and prepared to turn on the appliance when she heard two car doors slam in the driveway.

Caitlin stepped to her window, adjusted the blinds, and peered through the glass as Adam, Bridget, and Patricia, who had been visiting in the living room, walked out of the house and met Greg and Natalie by the Chrysler. She felt uneasy when the five exchanged tearful hugs in the driveway and felt outright sick when Natalie turned her head and gazed at her bedroom window. Something had happened, she thought. Something was wrong.

Caitlin closed the blinds, turned away from the window, and pressed her throbbing temples with sweaty fingers. She immediately thought of Cody. Where was he at one o'clock on this spring afternoon? Where was her twin ?

For the next minute, as her siblings and sisters-in-law walked slowly from the driveway to the house and into the living room, Caitlin braced herself for unpleasant news. She could not imagine anything worse than losing her youngest brother and closest friend.

She closed her eyes for a moment, gathered her strength, and then walked toward the closed door that separated her bedroom from the hallway. She managed only three steps before she heard movement in the hallway and saw the doorknob turn.

A few seconds later, Natalie, wearing overalls she wore only at work, opened the door, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind her. When she finally looked at Caitlin, her terrified sister and confidante, she did so with eyes that were red and drenched.

"You better sit down."

Caitlin stared at her sister.

"Why? Where's Cody?"

"I don't know," Natalie said.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know! I suppose he's at work. I didn't come here to talk about him. I came here to talk about someone else. Please sit down, Caitlin. I beg you."

"I'm not sitting anywhere," Caitlin said. "What's going on? Why are you crying? Why are you home? Why is Greg home? What happened?"

Natalie, visibly shaken, stared at Caitlin.

"There's been an accident."

"What?"

"Casey finished early. He and his peers, the ones who went to Santa Ana, completed their training yesterday and tried to come home a day ahead of schedule."

"No," Caitlin said.

Natalie nodded.

"They boarded a transport plane at eleven last night, just as a storm, a really bad storm, moved into the area. Their plane went down thirty minutes later."

"No," Caitlin said. "No."

"I'm afraid so. Several responders, crews from two states, reached the wreckage at ten this morning. They searched hard, Caitlin. They searched everywhere."

"No. No."

Natalie broke down.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. There were no survivors."

"No," Caitlin said. "You're wrong. I'm meeting him at the airport. We're having dinner tonight. We're meeting his parents on Saturday. We're—"

"I'm so sorry."

Caitlin wobbled as her head, once filled with glorious ideas, began to swim. She stumbled forward, rushed into Natalie's arms, and pounded her sister with a fury.

"No! No! No—!"

CHAPTER 74: NATALIE

Glendale, Arizona – Sunday, June 11, 1944

The ceremony, like so many Natalie had seen in France, began with somber music and somber speeches. Those who didn't play "Taps" or sing "Amazing Grace" spoke with the eloquence of poets. For more than an hour, as three thousand soldiers, airmen, and civilians gathered in Thunderbird Field's largest hangar, person after person paid tribute to twenty-four U.S. Army Air Force cadets who had given their lives for freedom.

Natalie watched the proceedings in stunned silence. Sitting between Greg and Cody in a row that also included Adam, Bridget, Camille, and Patricia, she watched the memorial service like one might watch a newscast about a horrific natural disaster. Numbed by the sheer senselessness of the deaths, she sat, listened, and occasionally looked.

From her seat in the sixth of thirty rows of folding chairs, she could see most of the caskets, the stage, and many of the special guests who sat directly behind the service area and faced the main assembly. She found it difficult to look at any of them for long.

Five special guests, in particular, pulled her heartstrings hard. All had ties to the youngest fallen hero. Each represented a chapter in a life that was no more.

Reverend Magnus McCoy, who sat in the front row with his wife, Amelia, and their ten-year-old daughter, Sally, looked like a broken man. Tall and trim, like his son, he sat almost statue-like in his seat as he stared blankly into space. He looked every bit like a man who had traveled across the country for a graduation and arrived at a funeral.

Amelia, too, seemed lost in her own world. Wearing a black dress she had no doubt purchased in Phoenix, she gazed at the tenth casket, the one bearing her son's body, with leaden eyes and seemed to treat the parade of speakers with casual indifference. Like so many other mothers in the hangar, she clearly had not prepared for this moment.

Nor, for that matter, had Sally. The fourth-grader, the only surviving child of the pastor and the pacifist from Pascagoula, stared at the hangar floor like a student who had been sent to the principal's office. She moved only when she wiped a tear from her cheek or tried to get comfortable in her uncomfortable chair.

If Natalie found it difficult to look at the McCoy family, she found it nearly impossible to look at her sister, who sat on the other side of Sally. She could almost feel the grief that enveloped the young woman who had loved and lost at a tender age.

Though Caitlin had all but shut down after hearing the news of Casey's death, she had insisted on meeting her boyfriend's family at the train station and helping them adjust to the sudden and shocking turn of events. She had spent most of the day, in fact, with Magnus, Amelia, and Sally and done what she could to ease their pain.

Casey's parents, in turn, welcomed Caitlin into their circle. They embraced the brown-haired beauty from Arizona, who, despite her brief and unofficial connection to the family, was a daughter-in-law and a widow in everything but name.

Natalie gazed at her sister, who wore a simple black dress, and then turned to a man who sat in a section reserved for the brass. She had expected to find him there. She knew that Nick Mays was already mentally, if not physically, in the United States Army.

Natalie had not heard from him since Tuesday. Nor had she expected to. She knew that he had moved on to other people and other things.

That bothered her. It bothered her because she still loved the would-be warrior and wanted a future with him. Even though he had hurt her on Tuesday, when he had picked war and the forties over love and the future, she still loved him. She had given him four of the best months of her life and wanted to give him so much more.

When she tired of wallowing in self-pity, Natalie shifted her attention to the podium, where a retired general, representing the Pentagon, spoke about courage and sacrifice in an era filled with both. She wondered how the people of the 1940s coped in a time where unpleasant telegrams and knocks on the door were as common as saddle shoes.

Natalie listened to the general for a few minutes, gleaned what she could from his speech, and then directed her thoughts to the week ahead. Even in the wake of tragedy, heartbreak, and unexpected difficulties, she could not forget that the siblings had business to attend to. In only three days, they would load up the Chrysler, cut their ties to Phoenix, and drive to Pennsylvania, where either their parents or 1972 waited.

Natalie did not think she would find her mother and father in New Paris. She no longer shared her oldest brother's faith in itineraries and formulas and believed she had a greater chance of seeing Bigfoot in the next ten days than the people who had raised her.

She had come by her pessimism honestly. After nearly eighteen fruitless months of chasing Tim and Caroline Carson across North America in three distinct eras, she had concluded that a happy reunion was probably not in the cards. Unlike at least two of her brothers and perhaps now her sister, she was ready to drive past the halfway houses of 1972 and 1983 and return to the time and the life she once knew.

Twenty minutes later, after the base chaplain, a former pilot, gave the benediction, Natalie exited the scene. She followed her party out of the hangar and into the heat.

She intended to look for Caitlin when they reached the parking lot and a Chrysler that had served the family well. She expected her sister, who knew where the car was parked, to rejoin the group after saying goodbye to Magnus, Amelia, and Sally.

Natalie did not intend to look for Nick. Though she still wanted a happy ending with the man from Boulder, she had no plans to search for it. She had turned a corner at the memorial service and decided it was too large to ignore. Five days after losing her love in a two-bit diner, it was time to look for other things. It was time, she thought, to move on.

CHAPTER 75: GREG

Phoenix, Arizona – Wednesday, June 14, 1944

Two hours before his ten o'clock appointment with the Selective Service System, an appointment he did not plan to keep, Greg Carson emptied a bedroom dresser drawer, placed the contents in a small suitcase, and sat on his bed. When he decided that the bed made a better sofa than a bench, he climbed on top of it, leaned his back against the wooden headboard, and rested his aching bones.

He didn't feel guilty about taking a breather as his family hastily prepared for its trip to Pennsylvania. He had done plenty in the past few days and thought he deserved a break.

So he rested on the fully made bed, stared at the pinstriped wall, and considered matters both large and small for several minutes. Then he asked himself again why a man from the twenty-first century was still living in the twentieth.

He had an answer, of course. He was chasing his parents. Like his siblings, his wife, and his sister-in-law, he was still pursuing Tim and Caroline Carson in hopes of reuniting a family that had been separated for nearly twenty-one months.

He still intended to achieve that goal and achieve it before his first child, now five months along in Patricia's womb, graduated from high school, but for the first time in a long time, he was starting to have some doubts. Like Natalie, who had become a pessimist almost overnight, he was beginning to wonder if it was time to prioritize other things.

Greg considered all this and more as he settled into the bed, stretched his long legs, and extended his arms in both directions. He tuned out the outside world, even the sound of the doorbell, as he pondered his problems one more time. He didn't ponder for long.

Less than two minutes after hearing the doorbell, he saw his wife open the door and enter the room. He knew the second he saw her smile that something was up.

"Are the natives getting restless?" Greg asked.

"They are now," Patricia said.

"I don't understand."

"Then perhaps you should investigate."

Greg tilted his head.

"What's going on?"

Patricia grinned.

"You, dear husband, have a visitor."

"Who?"

"You'll see."

Greg said no more. He knew he could learn more by investigating the matter in person than by pressing Patricia for answers. So he jumped off the comfortable bed and followed his mischievous and taciturn wife out of their bedroom and down the long hallway.

When he and Patricia stepped into the living room, he found six people he expected to find and one person he did not. He saw Natalie, Caitlin, and Cody sitting on one couch; Adam and Bridget tending to Camille on the other; and a stylish woman, a rancher's wife from Flagstaff, standing in front of the fireplace.

"Cecilia?" Greg asked.

"It's me," Cecilia Baines said.

"What brings you to Phoenix?"

"I have news. I have news for all of you."

Greg extended his arm.

"Then please take a seat."

"I would rather stand, if it's all right."

"It's fine by me. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," Cecilia said. "I won't stay long. I can't stay long. I rushed down here this morning because I have something important to say."

"What's that?"

"You are all in immediate danger."

Greg knew the second he heard the fear in Cecilia's voice that the Carson family was in for a long morning. He escorted Patricia into the sitting area and then sat next to her on the sofa occupied by Adam, Bridget, and Camille. Then he gathered his thoughts, tried to guess where all of this was going, and looked again at his well-dressed visitor.

"How so?" Greg asked. "How are we in danger?"

Cecilia took a deep breath.

"I'm afraid the law is closing in on you."

Greg didn't need an outsider to tell him that. He knew the law had been nipping at his heels, if not closing in on him, since he had killed two ranchers in an 1889 gunfight.

"Please explain."

"I'll try," Cecilia said. "The situation is complicated."

"I'm listening."

"As you may recall from our conversation in January, my father spent years trying to convince a detective that you were a time traveler who had killed his kin in 1889."

"I remember."

"Then you may also remember that this detective, a man named Don Green, dismissed my father's claims as the ravings of a madman."

Greg nodded.

"I remember that as well."

"That's good," Cecilia said, "because Mr. Green, who still lives in Arizona, no longer believes my father was crazy. He now believes he was right all along."

"How do you know this?"

"I know it because this detective, this supposedly retired detective, visited my ranch yesterday on his way to the Grand Canyon. He paid a visit because he wanted to check out a lead he had obtained from a friend — a friend named William Tate."

Greg glanced at Cody when he squirmed in his seat. He wondered if his brother, who had been suspiciously quiet for days, knew something important. He gave the matter a few seconds of thought and then returned to the woman with the answers.

"Who is William Tate?"

"Bill Tate is the director of the Gila River War Relocation Center and, like Mr. Green, a former detective with the Arizona state police," Cecilia said. "He apparently told Mr. Green that he had recently investigated a rumor that a delivery boy named Cody Carson wanted to take a Japanese family to Pennsylvania and the future. When Mr. Green heard the name Carson and time travel in the same conversation, he reopened his files, reacquainted himself with my father's claims, and asked to see me."

Adam glared at Cody.

"You were investigated ? Why didn't you tell us?"

Cody shot back.

"I didn't think I needed to. I answered every charge on Wednesday. I convinced my interrogators that the rumor was the product of Kana Watanabe's vivid imagination."

Adam fumed.

"This changes things, Cody. This changes them a lot. If Mr. Tate is talking to a detective who is investigating Greg, our troubles are only going to get worse."

Cody protested.

"That's not necessarily true."

"I'm afraid it is," Cecilia said. She looked at Cody. "Though I told Mr. Green I was not aware of any link between you and the 'time-traveling' Carson family of 1918, I did not convince him to drop the matter. He intends to submit a full report, including articles, notes, and statements he has compiled on Greg, to the FBI tomorrow."

Greg sighed.

"Then we are in deep crap. The feds already want us for tax evasion. They will want me tomorrow for draft evasion. When they compare notes with the others and learn that all of us are time travelers — people with knowledge of coming events — they will move mountains to find us. They will come after us with everything they have."

Adam looked at Cecilia.

"Did you say Mr. Tate knows about Pennsylvania?"

Cecilia nodded.

"He heard a rumor that your family was going to take a Japanese family from Arizona to Pennsylvania sometime this month. He did not say specifically where."

Adam turned to Cody.

"Does he know about New Paris?"

"No," Cody said.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I didn't tell anyone about our final stop. I kept the most important details even from Naoko and her father. I didn't think they needed to know."

Adam looked at Greg.

"What do you think? Should we still go to Pennsylvania? Or should we just cut our losses and head to Sedona? We have a big decision to make."

Greg took a moment to digest all he had heard. Though he thought his family's situation was bad and getting worse by the minute, he did not think it was hopeless. He knew that police in 1944, even J. Edgar Hoover's FBI, did not have all the resources and capabilities of law enforcement in the digital age. So he erred on the side of caution.

"I think we should stick to the script," Greg said. "I think we should leave Phoenix as soon as possible, drive only on back roads, and try to get to New Paris by Monday."

Adam nodded.

"I agree. I think that's our only serious option."

"I don't," Natalie said. "If the police think we're headed to Pennsylvania, they will look for us between here and there. They won't look for us in Arizona."

"Are you sure?" Greg asked.

"I'm not sure of anything anymore. I just think we should talk about this a bit before taking off and driving straight into a roadblock. The police will figure out soon enough what kind of car we're driving, so we should probably use that car as little as possible."

"I agree with Natalie," Patricia said. "I think we have a much better chance of evading the police if we hide out here than if we travel across the country. A Chrysler with Arizona plates will stand out like a sore thumb in the Midwest and the East."

Though Greg disagreed strongly with his wife, he loved her independence. He knew the family would need her sound judgment to safely navigate through the next seven days.

"I count two in favor of each option," Adam said. "That leaves Bridget, Cody, and Caitlin to split the tie. We need your votes now. We don't have a lot of time to diddle."

Bridget looked at her husband.

"I think we should stick to the plan. I understand the risks, particularly the new ones, but I believe if we travel mostly at night and keep to ourselves, we'll be all right."

Adam turned to Cody.

"Where do you stand?"

"I think we should stay," Cody said. "I want to leave Arizona, especially now, but I think it would be easier to hide in a cabin somewhere than hide on the open road."

"I agree," Cecilia said, "and I know just the place to hide."

Greg looked at the visitor. Though he knew she did not have a vote in this session of the Carson family legislature, he wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Oh?"

Cecilia smiled.

"Ted and I own a large cabin north of Flagstaff. We rent it to tourists in the summer and hunters in the fall. I could take you there today, before the police come looking for you, and keep a watch on the place until you leave for Sedona. No one would find you there."

Greg frowned.

"You can't get involved."

"I already am," Cecilia said. "Give me the chance to help you some more. Give me the chance to remedy the mess my father created. I think you should accept my offer."

Natalie nodded.

"I do too."

"I don't," Caitlin said.

With those two words, Caitlin captured the spotlight. Though she had not offered a single opinion since learning of Casey's death, she appeared ready to offer one now.

Natalie stared at her sister.

"May I ask why?"

"You know why," Caitlin said. "We're not just hiding from the police. We're trying to find Mom and Dad. We're trying to do what we set out to do eighteen months ago."

"You don't know that we'll find them in New Paris."

"You're right. I don't. I do know that they went there in 1918. I also know they were not in Sedona when Greg and Patricia visited in March. I know this because every one of my siblings has drilled that into my brain. You have been one of the biggest cheerleaders for going to Pennsylvania. I think it's unfair of you to change your mind at the last minute."

"I don't," Natalie said. "I don't at all."

Caitlin exploded into tears.

"Do what you want then! I don't care. I just want out of this miserable place. I'm sick of living here. I'm sick of this time. I'm sick of what it's done to us!"

With that, Caitlin Carson, the girl who was already a woman, stormed out of the living room and into the hallway. She entered her bedroom and slammed the door.

Cecilia looked at the others.

"I'm sorry. I guess I made a mess of things."

"You did no such thing," Greg said. He smiled at Cecilia. "You provided us with a timely warning and important information — information we can use this week."

Cecilia frowned.

"Does that mean you're leaving?"

Greg glanced at Adam and Bridget, noted their nods, and realized they had not budged from their earlier positions. He did not need to retrieve Caitlin to get her vote.

"It means we're leaving."

"I understand," Cecilia said. She gazed wistfully at Greg and then turned to the family she wanted to save. "Good luck then. Good luck on your trip. Good luck wherever you go."

CHAPTER 76: TIM

Flagstaff, Arizona – Saturday, June 17, 1944

Sitting next to his wife in the all-too-familiar office of James Wesley Zane, Tim Carson digested the latest and last report from his private investigator and considered an irony for the ages. After eighty days and five hundred dollars, Zane had produced virtually every answer Tim had wanted. The problem was that he had produced them a few days late.

He looked at the private eye, who leaned back in his chair, and then at his wife, who stared blankly out the office's only window. He could not blame Caroline for withdrawing from the meeting. He knew she was as stunned and heartbroken as he was.

Tim grabbed a folder off Zane's desk, flipped it open, and read the particulars one more time. Though he had a clear grasp of the big picture, he wanted to scan the details again to make sure he had not missed anything important. After searching for his children for fifteen months in three distinct eras, he did not want to leave any stone unturned.

The report, compiled by Zane on Thursday and Friday, told a story that was as compelling as any novel. In two thousand words, it detailed the lives of seven young adults who had come to Phoenix in December, found jobs, made babies, formed romantic relationships, and gotten into more trouble than a gaggle of frat boys at Mardi Gras.

Jerry Holbrook, a Los Angeles police detective, had been the first to shed light on the lives and whereabouts of the traveling "cousins." Using sources he had developed over the years, the investigator, Zane's friend, had learned that sisters Natalie and Caitlin Carson had attended a dinner at the Cocoanut Grove on March 31 with two aviators.

Holbrook mailed Zane a report that included the names of the pilots, their biographies, and their contact information at Thunderbird Field in Glendale, Arizona. He said the airmen and their ladies had dined with several celebrities, including Bob Hope, Rita Hayworth, and Orson Welles, and made a lasting impression on each.

By Thursday night, Zane, working full-time on the case, was able to begin writing a lengthy report. He was not able to directly contact the pilots, their dates, or any of the women's relatives. He was not able to do so because one of the airmen was dead, the other was unavailable, and the sisters and their siblings were running from the law.

Tim took comfort in the fact that his five children, two daughters-in-law, and first grandchild, a four-month-old girl named Camille, were apparently alive and well and living in the same time stream. He did not take comfort in the fact they were fugitives who were wanted by federal authorities for tax evasion, draft evasion, and espionage.

He worried most about the charge that his youngest son had passed vital information to a Japanese American family at the Gila River War Relocation Center. Though Tim knew that Cody was a patriot, he also knew he occasionally exercised poor judgment. He could see him doing the wrong thing for the right reason.

Like Caroline, who had read Zane's report once, he also worried about the mental and emotional state of Cody's twin. He could not imagine how Caitlin coped with the loss of her first serious boyfriend in an aviation accident. He could only write his own caption to a photo, published in a Phoenix paper, that showed his youngest daughter sitting next to the family of Casey McCoy, one of twenty-four airmen killed in the June 7 crash.

Ten minutes later, Tim finished the report, closed the folder, and placed it on the investigator's desk. Though he had gleaned no new facts in his second reading of the three-page document, he had come away with a new question. He wanted to know more about senior flight instructor Nicholas Mays, one of the few major players in this ongoing drama who had not been contacted by Zane or his investigator buddies.

"What can you tell me about Mr. Mays?" Tim asked.

"I can't tell you much," Zane said. "He's a thirty-year-old former high school literature teacher who moved to Phoenix from Boulder, Colorado, shortly after his wife died in the attack on Pearl Harbor. Apparently consumed by grief, revenge, and a desire to serve, he quit his teaching job and considered joining the Army Air Force, but officers who recognized his value as an instructor talked him out of it. So he took a job at Thunderbird and taught some of the best and brightest aviators to come out of that place."

"How did Nick and Natalie meet?"

"They met at a dance. According to one of Mr. Mays' friends, they met at a dance in Phoenix on New Year's Eve, but they did not start dating until early February. I'm told they were quite fond of each other. Why he broke up with her is a mystery to me."

"He broke up with her?" Tim asked.

Zane nodded.

"The friend said Mr. Mays ended the relationship last week. He does not know how, why, or under what circumstances. He just knows that the instructor struggled with the decision and that it may have had something to do with his desire to enlist."

"Where is Mr. Mays now?"

"I believe he's on his way to Colorado. He resigned his position at Thunderbird on June 9 and left the base itself on Wednesday. He reportedly wanted to visit family and friends in Boulder before making any big decisions on his future."

Tim took a deep breath.

"Do you have any names and numbers?"

"No," Zane said. "I didn't think they were important. If you want, I can make a few calls and have a list for you by Tuesday. I would be happy to do it."

Tim thought about the offer and decided to refuse it. Though he wanted and needed more information, he saw no point in trying to obtain it the day before the solstice.

"I think I'll pass."

"Are you sure?" Zane asked.

"I'm sure."

"Can I do anything else for you?"

"You can," Tim said.

"What's that?"

"Call us if you obtain any new information. You can reach us at the apartment Sunday and Monday and at the Chaparral Hotel on Tuesday."

"What about after Tuesday?"

"Don't bother."

Zane cocked his head.

"I don't understand. Don't you want to find your relatives?"

"Oh, I do."

"Then send me a number when you get settled."

"I'll do that," Tim said. He smiled and laughed to himself as he pondered his coming trip to the future. "I don't know how I'll do it, but I'll try."

CHAPTER 77: CODY

Newfound Gap, Tennessee – Sunday, June 18, 1944

Cody approached his sister with both fear and hope. He approached with fear because he knew that his twin, his best friend of almost nineteen years, could snap again at any time. He approached with hope because he knew that the crushing grief that had held her captive for ten grueling days was slowly beginning to fade.

"Hi," Cody said. "Mind if I join you?"

Caitlin did not reply. Sitting on a boulder that overlooked one of the most scenic vistas in America, she continued staring at the Smoky Mountains like they were an exotic lover or perhaps an ordinary one that had captured her heart in countless ways.

"Caitlin?"

Caitlin responded the second time. She looked over her left shoulder, gazed at her brother with vacant eyes, and motioned for him to sit.

So sit he did. Cody climbed up on the rock, the largest of three in a natural overlook on the south side of U.S. Highway 441, and sat next to his silent sister.

As he settled into his seat, lifted his head, and gazed at the rolling blue mounds that formed the backbone of Tennessee and North Carolina, he thought about his family, the past five days, and a trip across the country that only a bank robber could appreciate.

The Carson Eight had left Phoenix in a rush. Minutes after Cecilia Baines exited the rental house on June 14, they gathered their belongings, loaded the Chrysler, and headed east for New Mexico, Texas, and points beyond. They considered Greg's advice to stick to the back roads of the South but ultimately did just the opposite. They drove the busy highways and flocked to the tourist traps. They did that and more in an attempt to blend in with the summer vacation crowds that were just beginning to form around the country.

The strategy worked. For four days, as three men, four women, and a baby girl moved across the United States, they encountered no resistance. If the Federal Bureau of Investigation was still trying to find them, it was not putting forth much of an effort.

Adam made only a few concessions to safety. He covered the Chrysler's plates with mud, avoided locations with a heavy police presence, listed his hometown as Los Angeles on hotel registers, and gave each member of the family a new last name.

Cody, like the others, was no longer a Carson. He was a Fiske. He was a person named in honor of Kathleen Fiske, a ten-year-old Pennsylvania farm girl who would grow up to be a successful businesswoman and the paternal grandmother of five future fugitives.

Cody admitted he had expected a rougher road. He had feared that the FBI would go to great lengths to find a family that knew more about how World War II would end than all the political and military leaders on earth.

He did not expect trouble today. If the siblings encountered any difficulties in the final stretch of their trip, they would do so on Wednesday, when they drove from Bedford, Pennsylvania, to a familiar field outside New Paris and traveled again through time.

He worried about Pennsylvania because he had told Kana Watanabe and, by extension, federal authorities, that it was the time travelers' final destination. He knew that if the FBI acted on Bill Tate's report and other available sources, it would stake out every city and hamlet between Johnstown and Harrisburg. It would come after the Carsons hard.

Cody pondered that unpleasant possibility for a few minutes and then turned his attention to a more immediate matter. He had come to this rock not to consider what the FBI might do to his family in three days but rather what he could do for his sister now.

He looked to his right, studied Caitlin's face as she stared blankly at the mountains, and tried to think of words that might comfort and soothe. In the end, he did what he had always done when his twin was down. He cut to the chase.

"I know you don't want to talk right now. I didn't want to talk either after we said goodbye to Emma in Columbus. I didn't want to eat or sleep. I didn't want to do anything except curl up in a ball, forget the world, and die, but I didn't. I kept moving. I kept moving and living because I had to. I knew at some point that things would get better."

Caitlin kept her eyes forward. If she acknowledged her brother's message, she did so in a distant place — a place that no one, not even those closest to her, could visit.

For that reason, Cody did not push. He merely tested boundaries and gently proceeded toward an outcome he knew would someday come. He knew that grief, like many feelings and human conditions, was a spirit that hovered and haunted but always went away.

Cody gave Caitlin another moment to herself and then spoke for the first time in weeks about a subject that was never far from their minds. Like his sister, the unquestioned genius of the Carson family, he often thought about the next step. He thought about preparing for a future that would surely come. He thought about college.

"Adam told me this morning that he wants us to go to school. He wants us to attend college for a semester or two, even it means leaving credits behind in 1972 or 1983 and starting from scratch when we go home. Would you like that?"

Caitlin nodded but kept her eyes forward.

"I thought you might," Cody said. He gazed at the mountains. "I know I've been thinking about college a lot lately. I want to go to school again. I want to do something different."

Cody did not wait for a reply. He knew he would not get one. He just wanted to tell his sister that they were on the same page on a matter of supreme importance.

He let another minute pass, as the midday sun, a fixture in the azure sky, reached its high point in the southern horizon. Though he wanted to spend all day on this rock and bask in the beautiful moment, he knew he could not. He had come to this place not only to enjoy a few minutes of peace but also to retrieve his twin. He had been asked to bring Caitlin back to the tourist center, where the rest of the family enjoyed a hearty lunch.

"Are you going to be OK today?" Cody asked.

Again Caitlin nodded. Again she did not speak.

"I'm glad. I'm glad because I want you to be OK."

Caitlin took a deep breath. Though she continued to keep to herself, as if she alone occupied the rock in this picturesque place, she started to show signs of life.

When a large bird of prey flew into view, circled a few times, and landed on a treetop nest, Caitlin lifted her right hand and pointed to the nest. She did not want her brother, the family's expert on plants and animals, to miss a bald eagle in action.

"I haven't seen one of those in a while. Thanks for pointing him out. I've missed having my eagle spotter on this trip," Cody said. He sighed. "I've missed my sister."

Caitlin did not say a word, but for the first time since Cody climbed onto the rock, she looked at her brother. With tears in her eyes, she looked at him with obvious appreciation and affection. Then she looked again at the mountains, rested her head on Cody's shoulder, and wrapped her arm around his side.

Cody, in turn, wrapped his arm around her side. He pulled Caitlin close, kissed the top of her head, and gazed again at the heavenly mountains. He didn't say another word while sitting on the rock. He didn't have to. He had the moment he wanted.

CHAPTER 78: NATALIE

Bedford, Pennsylvania – Tuesday, June 20, 1944

The time travelers slipped into Pennsylvania Tuesday afternoon with weary bodies, troubled minds, and a name that only a grandma could love. They reached the penultimate stop on their six-day, 2,500-mile trip just as Bedford, population three thousand, rolled up its sidewalks, shut its doors, and went home to enjoy the final hours of spring.

Natalie did not mind that a bit. She preferred sleepy little towns filled with indifferent residents to busy ones crawling with federal agents. At six thirty on this pleasantly cool evening, she was happy merely to have a chance to relax.

On this particular night, her last in the age of Rosie the Riveter, she walked Bedford's quiet streets with a vivacious woman she had come to adore. Though she had spent relatively little time with the former Patricia O'Rourke since she had married her brother, Natalie wanted to change that. She wanted to reconnect with a kindred spirit who was going through her own challenges, trials, and life changes.

"How is the baby today?" Natalie asked.

"He's as ornery as ever," Patricia said. "He's kicked me nonstop since dinner. I don't think he cares much for Mexican food or at least the stuff they serve here."

"Are you sure it's a boy?"

"I'm sure. I won't know for certain, of course, until he kicks his way out of my womb, but I'm as sure as one can get. A girl would show her mother more respect."

Natalie laughed.

"That's not what Bridget says."

Patricia huffed.

"Well, it's what I say."

"Then I'll let you two settle it," Natalie said. "This sort of debate is best left to the experts, and on this subject, anyway, I'm definitely not an expert."

Patricia smiled.

"You will be soon."

Natalie wondered about that. Though she did not doubt for a minute she would become a mother at some point, she did doubt she would become one soon. After four unsuccessful relationships in less than two years, she was as much a candidate for motherhood as a devout nun or a teenager committed to years of chastity.

As she and Patricia walked south on Juliana Street toward Penn Street, the cemetery, and their affordable but otherwise forgettable motel, Natalie pondered not only her miserable social life but also her uncertain future. At age twenty-five, she was rudderless and lost. She was a woman without a partner, a career, a purpose, or even parents.

Though she had not expected to find Tim and Caroline Carson in this bucolic corner of southern Pennsylvania, she was still surprised to see no trace of them. Like her brothers and her sister, she had hoped for a happier ending to their third trip to the past.

Ten minutes later, Natalie and Patricia, sisters in name, approached the Shady Rest Motor Court, a modest operation that offered its guests "a good night's sleep," "reasonable rates," and the exotic luxury of air-conditioning. After six days on the road in a car filled with seven adults and a crying baby, Natalie welcomed all three.

As Natalie neared the first two of the motel's ten rooms, which Adam had secured for six dollars a night, she noticed two open doors. She concluded that her siblings favored natural air and natural light over the artificial variety in the twelve-by-twelve units.

At least three of the siblings, her brothers, preferred the outdoors altogether. Adam, Greg, and Cody sat on a long bench between the two rooms and stared blankly at the mostly empty parking lot like three hayseeds killing time on a creaky porch.

"You boys look bored," Natalie said.

Greg turned his head and smiled.

"You girls look refreshed ."

"Then I guess we got the better deal tonight. Patricia and I had a nice little walk downtown and an even nicer little visit. I approve of your wife."

"I knew you'd come around."

Adam jumped in.

"Did you check the hotels?"

Natalie nodded.

"We checked both. No one named Tim or Caroline or Carson has checked into either in the past week. No out-of-state cars were parked in front. It looks like we struck out again."

"There's always tomorrow," Adam said.

"Yes, there is."

Though Natalie expressed hope, she did not feel it. She knew the odds of finding her parents on Wednesday were the same as Thomas Dewey winning the presidential election.

She started to say something more to Adam but stopped when she saw a car, a vaguely familiar vehicle, approach from the south. When the red convertible turned off of Juliana Street and entered the motel parking lot, she froze and felt her knees grow weak.

"Isn't that—?" Patricia asked.

Natalie stared at the car.

"Yes, it is."

Natalie watched with mixed emotions as the driver pulled into a distant spot, parked the Cadillac, and turned off the engine. When the man exited the car, shut the door, and walked her way, she saw the last four months of her life flash before her eyes.

Nicholas Mays, wearing a familiar leather jacket, white shirt, and gray slacks, approached Natalie like a humble serf approaching a queen. He stopped for a moment to look at Adam, Greg, and Cody and then proceeded with caution toward the main attraction.

"Hi," Nick said.

"Hello," Natalie replied. She stared at the visitor. "I can't say I expected to see you tonight. I can't say I expected to see you any night."

"I know."

"Why are you here?"

Nick glanced briefly at Room 2, where Bridget, Camille, and Caitlin had gathered in front of the open door, and then returned to Natalie. He wore the face of a chastened man.

"I'm here to apologize. I'm here to say I'm sorry for my selfishness and indifference to the things that matter. I'm here to tell you that even a man who has the world in his hands has nothing unless he has the love of the right woman."

"Is that all?"

"No, it's not. I'm also here to tell you that I love you and miss you and want a second chance. I'm here because I can't live without you."

Natalie sighed and closed her eyes as she considered words she had longed to hear but was no longer sure she wanted to hear. She had given Nick his shot. She had given him four months of love and companionship and mentally moved on to a place where former lovers did not pull surprises and disrupt lives at the eleventh hour.

"You have a lot of nerve, Nick."

"That I do."

"What about the Army? What about the B-29s? What about your burning desire to punish the Japanese and avenge your wife's death? Do those things no longer matter?"

"They do," Nick said. "I thought about them, too, when I saw my family in Colorado and visited Dolores' grave. I've thought about a lot of things in the past two weeks."

Natalie cursed herself as her eyes started to water. She did not want to show weakness at a time like this. She wanted to show resolve.

"How do I know this is real? How do I know this visit is the gesture of a remorseful man and not a lonely one? You hurt me in Phoenix. You hurt me bad."

Nick glanced at the others one more time and then slowly walked the rest of the way to the woman he had hurt. When he finally reached her, he wiped away her tears, took her hands, and looked at her with remorse and not loneliness.

"I quit my job, Natalie. I refused the Army. I sold my house, gave away my property, and said goodbye to my aunts, uncles, and friends. I burned every bridge in my very good life before I drove here because I knew I could never go back. It's you or nothing now, Miss Carson. It's you or misery. I really hope I can walk away with you."

Dazed and confused, Natalie appealed to the only jury that mattered and got the verdict she expected. She saw three grinning brothers, two smiling sisters-in-law, and a heartbroken sister who nodded her approval before withdrawing into her room.

For two weeks, Natalie Carson, four-time loser, had searched for answers and absolution in the wake of heartbreak. Now that she had both, she had to decide what to do with them. It took her only a moment to find the right words.

"Do you know what you're getting into?"

Nick offered a warm smile.

"I believe you spelled it out in Tucson."

"Then I guess I don't have a choice," Natalie said. She pulled her hands out of Nick's, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I love you, too, Nick Mays. I always have. Welcome home."

CHAPTER 79: NICK

Wednesday, June 21, 1944

Nick and Natalie went for a stroll. At nine thirty, after the entire Carson family went out for breakfast and returned to the motel, the recently reunited lovebirds, still navigating the choppy seas of a problematic relationship, took off on their own.

For more than an hour, they discussed their trips, the weather, and the history of Bedford, a British outpost in the French and Indian War. They discussed everything but the very circumstances that had pushed them apart and then brought them together.

That changed when Nick, eager to move on to something relevant, formally addressed the elephant walking beside them. He did so with much trepidation.

"You surprised me last night," Nick said. He tightened his hold on Natalie's hand as they walked past a house built in the 1790s. "I was sure you were going to look me in the eye, smirk a few times, and tell me to take a hike. I wouldn't have blamed you if you had."

Natalie smiled sadly.

"I wanted to. I wanted to make you pay for breaking my heart. Then I realized that making you pay would not be a very adult thing to do. Adults, at least adults who love each other, don't wage war over hurt feelings. They talk about their differences. They work them out. They find a way to make their relationship succeed."

Nick sighed.

"I'm sorry, Natalie. I'm sorry I put you through hell. I have no excuses for how I behaved in Phoenix. I let you down. I promise I'll never do it again."

Natalie laughed.

"That's a mighty big promise."

"It is," Nick said, "but I intend to keep it."

Natalie smiled warmly.

"Then I'll hold you to it. I'll need something important to do when we stumble our way through 1972 or wherever we're going today."

Nick paused when he heard doubt in her voice. Of all the things he did not expect to hear on this day, when he would follow her to the future, it was doubt.

"You mean you don't know our destination?"

Natalie shook her head.

"I don't know and won't know until this afternoon. If we find my parents here in Bedford or in New Paris before one thirty, we will all travel together to 2017. If we don't find them, we will wait until seven thirty and go to 1972. We'll stick to the script."

Nick turned his head.

"You don't sound optimistic."

"I'm not," Natalie said. "My siblings and I have searched for our parents three times in three eras and come up empty every time. I see no reason to believe our luck will change."

"Have faith," Nick said. "We will find them."

"I like that word."

"What word?"

"We ," Natalie said. "It's so much nicer than you or I. It's the kind of word that makes me think I won't walk through life alone. I don't want to walk through life alone."

Nick paused again when he heard her speak. He realized now that he had done more than end a relationship in Arizona. He had hurt a smart, caring, and beautiful woman who had been hurt many times by many people. He vowed to make things right.

"You're not alone now."

Natalie smiled.

"Praise Jesus for that!"

Nick laughed at her flippant comment. He loved her sense of humor. He loved it almost as much as he loved her liquid brown eyes, chestnut hair, and trusting face.

Then he thought twice about her quip and realized she was doing more than attempting to lighten the mood. She was questioning her ability to form lasting relationships.

Nick guided Natalie toward the intersection of Indiana and Juliana and came to a stop when they reached it. He turned to face his companion, released her hand, and placed both hands on her soft shoulders. Then he brushed back her silky locks, which shimmered in the morning light, and gazed at her like a man who still had a lot of mending to do.

"When we reach our next stop, I'll show you that I'm not like the rest. I'll find a ring and a preacher and show you that my love for you is as real and lasting as the mountains around us. I'll do it because I want to do it and because you deserve it."

Natalie returned his gaze.

"You don't have to say this now."

"I do though," Nick said. He looked at her thoughtfully. "If you'll have me, Natalie Carson, I will love you and cherish you and give you the best life I can. I imagine even a washed-up aviator and literature instructor could make a living in the future."

Natalie laughed.

"I'd put money on that."

Nick smiled.

"Then there you have it."

Natalie took a deep breath.

"You really want me?"

Nick nodded.

"I really want you. Even if I can do nothing more but raise apples and kids on some godforsaken patch of this country, I want to do it with you."

Natalie beamed.

"Now that, Mr. Mays, is an offer I can't refuse."

"I was hoping you would say that," Nick said. He leaned in and gave his agreeable girl a kiss on the lips. Then he checked his watch and looked down Juliana Street, where a motor court, two cars, and his new family waited. "I suppose we should get back and join the others before they run off. I imagine you want them in our wedding."

Natalie laughed.

"Oddly enough, I do."

"Then let's go," Nick said. He reclaimed her hand and studied her face. "Let's head back and see what kind of trouble we can find. I'm sure we'll find a lot today."

CHAPTER 80: NICK

As he and Natalie headed north on Juliana Street and made their way back to the motor court, Nick saw things that inspired, annoyed, and amused. He saw a fully restored Victorian home, an obnoxious terrier that barked from a front porch, and a heavyset man in a tee shirt and striped boxers who stepped outside to get his morning paper.

He also saw something that filled him with dread. For the third time since leaving the motel with his companion, he saw a police car move down a street at glacial speed.

Nick had seen more drunks than cops on Tuesday. From the time he had pulled into Bedford to the time he had returned to his hotel, he had not seen a single policeman.

That was not the case today. Police who had apparently abandoned their posts the previous night showed the flag this morning. They patrolled the streets of the county seat like men who were looking for a person — or a family — that did not belong.

"I see law enforcement is out today."

Natalie sighed.

"I noticed that too."

Nick watched another car go by.

"Do you believe in coincidences?"

"No," Natalie said.

"Neither do I. Where is this portal again?"

"It's in New Paris. It's in a farm field fourteen miles away. We came here precisely because we didn't want to stand out. It appears we failed at that too."

"Don't fret just yet," Nick said. "If the police knew we were here, they would be knocking on doors and setting up roadblocks. I don't see any signs of that."

Natalie looked at Nick.

"I can tell you're concerned though. I can see it on your face. Is there something important you haven't told me? Because if there is, I need to know it now."

Nick hesitated before answering the question. Though he did not want to give Natalie yet another reason to worry, he knew he had to say something. He had a responsibility to his future wife, if not her entire family, to share everything he knew.

"There is something."

"What?" Natalie asked.

"The FBI is looking for several people named Carson. I saw a wanted poster in the lobby of the post office when I arrived yesterday. I tore the poster down and threw it away, but I suspect there are more in this town. I suspect there are a lot more."

"Did the poster show our faces?"

"No," Nick said. "I didn't see any photos or sketches, but I did see your names, ages, and some background information. Thank God you changed your name."

Natalie took a deep breath.

"Thank Adam for that. He knew our last name was our biggest liability even before we left Phoenix. He didn't think the police had pictures of us."

"I'm sure they don't."

"Did you see any posters in other states?"

Nick shook his head.

"It appears the FBI is focusing its effort here. Do you know why federal agents would look for an Arizona family in Pennsylvania?"

"I do," Natalie said. "Cody told a family, a Japanese family at the Gila River internment camp, that we were coming here this month. Like Caitlin and me, he became attached to some of the locals in Arizona and wanted to take them with us."

"What happened?"

"Officials learned that the family planned to leave camp on June 14, meet us in Phoenix, and join us on a trip to Pennsylvania and the future. Had Cody not convinced the director and others that the rumor was nonsense, we might all be in jail now."

"What about the other charges?" Nick asked. "I read that Greg skipped his draft physical and that several of you are wanted for tax evasion. Am I joining a criminal syndicate?"

"Yes," Natalie said.

Nick chuckled.

"You're as bad as the Barkers."

Natalie frowned.

"I wish it were that simple. The FBI doesn't care about draft dodgers, tax cheats, or boys who befriend Japanese families in internment camps. It cares about people who know how the war will end. If we don't reach the portal before the police reach us, we're finished."

Nick nodded.

"A lot of things make sense now."

"That's good," Natalie said, "because you're a Carson now."

Nick smiled.

"If that's the case, I better start pulling my weight. If there is anything I can do to assist your family today, let me know. I want to be an asset. I want to help."

Natalie looked at Nick and studied his face. Then she returned her attention to the street ahead, covered her eyes, and gazed at something in the distance.

"Maybe you can."

"Maybe I can what?" Nick asked.

Natalie eyed him again.

"Maybe you can help with the problem ahead."

Perplexed by the comment, Nick covered his eyes, peered into the distance, and looked for clues in the next block. He saw small shops on one side of the street, a motor court on the other, and a girl, a young woman he adored, sitting on a bench in front of the motel.

"I see Caitlin."

"Then you see everything," Natalie said. She stopped, turned to face Nick, and released his hand. "My sister is still in shock. She won't speak, she rarely eats, and she keeps to herself twenty-four hours a day. I have tried to talk to her about Casey and even pleasant subjects, like food and music and going home, but she won't open up. She's a mess, Nick, and I'm afraid if someone doesn't reach her soon, she'll never be the same."

Nick frowned.

"What can I do?"

"Speak to her," Natalie said. "Speak to her as Casey's friend and mentor and a man who understands real pain. Talk about your wife. Talk about your struggles. Tell her she's not alone in her grief. If you do that and bring her around, I will be indebted to you for life."

Nick closed his eyes as he pondered the task. He realized that desire alone was not enough to crack this nut. He did not have the ability or the tools to help the girl.

Then he remembered something, something he had brought from Arizona, and realized that he did. His role as a Carson was about to begin.

CHAPTER 81: NICK

Nick approached the bench and the mission with caution. Though he had the support of Adam, Natalie, and Cody, who looked on from the motel office, he knew he needed more than their support to succeed. He needed the attention, cooperation, and understanding of a deeply troubled young woman — a girl who wanted to vanish from the earth.

He paused for a moment as a garbage truck, making its rounds, rolled down Juliana Street with all the subtlety of a Sherman tank. Then he approached the bench from the side, waited for Caitlin to turn her head, and greeted her with a word and a smile.

"Hello."

"Hi," Caitlin said.

"Mind if I join you?"

"No."

Nick seized the fortuitous opening. He walked to the front of the bench, brushed off some gum wrappers, and sat about two feet to Caitlin's left. He did not say a word. For nearly a minute, he did nothing but stare at the empty street. Though he wanted to jump into a conversation, he did not want to press his luck. He had already done more than he dreamed was possible only minutes earlier. He had gotten a grieving girl to speak.

"I saw you at the funeral."

"So did a lot of people," Caitlin said.

"That's true. Even people in Colorado saw you. One of my aunts called me the day she saw your picture in a Denver newspaper and asked me if I knew you. I said I did."

"That's nice. Did Natalie tell you to say that?"

"No," Nick said. "I thought of it all by myself."

Caitlin finally looked at Nick.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I wish you would stop. I wish everyone would stop. I don't want to kill myself or do something crazy. I don't want to stop living. I just want to grieve in peace until the pain goes away. Can you understand that?"

Nick looked at her thoughtfully.

"I can. I most certainly can. When I lost my wife, I felt a lot like you do now. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to work. I didn't even want to step outside. I didn't want to do anything except punch my fists through walls and curse my very existence."

Caitlin paused to digest the blunt words. When she spoke again a few seconds later, she did so in a soft and measured voice — the voice of someone who cared.

"How did you get through it?"

Nick smiled.

"That depends on who you talk to. If you speak to my uncle Jack, he'll tell you it was whiskey and rye. I drank a bit after Dolores died. If you speak to my aunt Gladys, she'll tell you it was religion. I prayed a bit too. I did a lot of things for several months while I tried to find answers and meaning. In the end, I found relief in work. I took the job at Thunderbird not because I wanted to teach people to fly but because I wanted to do something constructive with my life. I wanted to feel good about myself at the end of the day."

Caitlin stared at the ground for a moment, as if trying to determine whether Nick's experience related to her own. Then she looked at him again.

"Natalie said you wanted to kill Japanese."

"She's right," Nick said. "I wanted to kill them when I went to Arizona and even after I started training pilots. I wanted to take my war directly to the enemy."

"So why didn't you?"

"I didn't because I couldn't. I couldn't trade my love for a good woman, your sister, for my hatred of an enemy I'd never seen. That's why I came here."

Caitlin took a deep breath.

"So it took you a long time to heal?"

"It took me two years, six months, and five days, Nick said. "When I saw you at the funeral, I remembered that war is not just about those who serve and die. It's about those the servicemen leave behind. It's about the widows and children, the mothers and fathers, and the brothers and sisters. It's about the women who give their love to their men and often get nothing in return. When I considered all that at the memorial service, I knew I had to change my course. So I drove to Colorado, said goodbye to my kin, and came here."

Caitlin took Nick's hand and offered a gentle smile.

"I'm glad you did."

In that brief and beautiful moment, Nicholas Mays, grief counselor, considered stopping while he was ahead. He had made progress, considerable progress, and did not want to spoil it with words and images that might upset. But the more he thought about the matter, the more he realized his work was not done. So he proceeded again with caution.

"I brought you some gifts."

"You did?" Caitlin asked.

Nick nodded.

"They aren't much. I didn't even think about one until I went through my belongings a few minutes ago, but I think you'll like both."

"Can I see them?"

"Of course."

Nick pulled his hand from hers, reached into his shirt pocket, and retrieved two objects he had brought from Arizona. He gave Caitlin the first item, a folded page from a book, and watched with interest as she opened it up and gave it an inspection.

Within seconds, the grieving girl, the one who had carefully managed her feelings and shut out the world for nearly two weeks, began to sob. She turned away several times as she tried to finish one of the most beautiful poems in the English language.

"I tore that out of a book I bought two years ago. I figured if it helped me get through Dolores' death, it might help you get through Casey's," Nick said. He felt his dry eyes fill with moisture. "There's one passage, in particular, I like. It reminds us that—"

"I know. I read it in school. It reminds us that 'though nothing can bring back the hour, of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower, we will grieve not,'" Caitlin said as she struggled with the words. "'Rather we will find strength—'"

"We will find strength in what remains behind,'" Nick said. He wiped a tear from his own eye. "It's true too. It's always been true. Wordsworth had it right from the start."

"Thank you," Caitlin said. She folded the poem, tucked it in her pocket, and gazed at her comforter. "Thank you for this. I'll treasure it."

Nick studied her tearful face.

"I hope you do."

Caitlin gave Nick a comforting smile, a smile he needed, and then looked at the second object he had pulled from his pocket and placed on his lap.

"What's the other thing? Is that a picture?"

Nick nodded but did not speak. He instead gathered his strength, looked at Caitlin with empathetic eyes, and handed her a photo she had never seen. In the snapshot, Caitlin and Casey cuddled atop a boulder on the summit of Camelback Mountain. The star-crossed lovers held a bouquet of Indian paintbrush, the symbol of their doomed relationship.

"I'd forgotten about that until I developed my film."

Caitlin reacted in a manner that was both predictable and heartbreaking. She held up the black-and-white photo, stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, and turned away. When she finally looked at Nick, she did so with eyes that were sodden beyond repair.

"I'm smiling."

Nick sighed.

"Yes, you are."

"I shouldn't be smiling. I should be frowning. I should be sad," Caitlin said. She shook her head and started to tremble. "I should be sad and angry because he's dead. He's dead !

Nick rushed to her side and pulled her close.

"I know."

Caitlin leaned into Nick's side and sobbed.

"I miss him. I miss him so much I can't think straight. It's not fair. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye or bring him here. I didn't—"

"I know.

Nick tightened his hold on Caitlin. For more than a minute, he tuned out Bedford, Pennsylvania, and tried to protect her from the world.

"I loved him," Caitlin said as her sobs dissolved into a whimper. "I loved him more than life itself. I don't want to leave him. I don't want to forget him."

"You won't," Nick said, "and neither will I."

Caitlin wiped her eyes and looked up.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that when we go to 1972 or 2017 or wherever we're going, you and I are going to do some things. We're going to climb Camelback again. We're going to give bouquets of Indian paintbrush to little old ladies. We're going to remind the world that a brave, kind, and thoughtful man, a man who loved a beautiful young woman, walked this earth and made his mark. We will keep his legacy alive for as long as we breathe."

"You would do that?"

"I would do it gladly. I will do it because I loved him too. Casey was more than a student and a friend. He was the brother I never had," Nick said. He took a deep breath, pulled Caitlin closer, and kissed the top of her head. "And you, sweet girl, are the sister."

CHAPTER 82: GREG

Greg opened the door, waited for his wife to pass, and then followed her into a souvenir shop on Juliana Street. He did not want to buy anything or at least buy anything more than a trinket. He just wanted to pass some time. After traveling in a stuffy sedan, consoling two sisters, and dodging law enforcement for several days, he simply wanted a break.

So he took one. He walked across the street with Patricia and left Bridget to attend to her fussy baby; Adam, Natalie, and Cody to finish their coffee in the motor court office; and Nick Mays, the happiest Carson, to comfort Caitlin, the saddest.

He did not expect to be gone for long. Like his wife, who had somehow managed to stay above the fray of the past two weeks, he knew he still had work to do. He had things to do and roles to play in helping his expanding family find its way to the future.

Alerted by the sounds of a jingling doorbell and footsteps on a squeaky floor, the proprietor, a man of maybe fifty, greeted Greg and Patricia as they entered his store. Slight, balding, and bespectacled, he looked more like a bookkeeper than a shopkeeper.

"Good morning, folks."

"Good morning," Greg said.

"Can I help you find anything?"

"I don't think so. We just came in to browse."

The man smiled.

"Then I won't keep you. My name is Horton if you need any assistance. Be sure to sign our guestbook and take some taffy from the dish before you leave."

"We'll do that. Thank you."

"You're welcome.

When Horton returned to filling out forms behind a hardwood counter about twenty feet away, Greg turned to his wife and grinned. He spoke in a hushed voice.

"Why don't you sign the guestbook and grab some candy while I inspect the key rings and snow globes. I think 'Horton' needs a friend."

Patricia glared at her husband.

"What if I named our baby Horton?"

Greg chuckled.

"I would love you just the same."

Patricia huffed her displeasure, stuck out her tongue, and marched toward the book, the candy, and the man with the Dr. Seuss name. She looked every bit like a woman who was ready to take the dangerous and difficult plunge into motherhood.

Greg loved the display of defiance. He loved everything about his stubborn, ornery, and feisty wife, who brought zest and sparkle to each day. He looked forward to raising little Hortons with her in a bright and promising future that was now just a short drive away.

When Patricia reached the counter and started a conversation with the friendly and not-so-busy merchant, Greg turned around and drifted back to the front of the store, where a treasure trove of trinkets, curios, and souvenirs waited. Though he did not care much for the key rings, snow globes, and other generic items, he did like the postcards. He thought the black-and-white images of pastures, mountains, and farms looked positively retro.

As he ventured from one postcard rack to another, he occasionally peered out the store's large front window and took in the drama across the street. He did not envy Nick Mays as he tried to succeed where several others had failed. He wondered if even God Himself could mend a heart that was as broken as his baby sister's.

Greg mentally revisited the past eighteen months as he pulled one card from a rack, examined it briefly, and put it back. He found it a difficult journey.

Why was it, he thought, that his family attracted trouble and attention like a gangster walking down Main Street? Why was it that it had to endure the worst?

Since leaving home in December 2017, the siblings had faced fires, floods, wars, police, gunslingers, and vengeful ranchers with long memories. They had loved and lost, buried family and friends, and overcome numerous obstacles. They had done all this and more and still come no closer to finding parents they might never see again.

Greg wondered why he and the others kept going. Then he looked out the window again, saw Nick hug his sobbing sister, and remembered the answer.

The family had gained as much as it had lost. It had added wives and sisters, a daughter and niece, and a prospective husband and brother. It had grown and flourished, despite the seemingly constant adversity, and become a rock that all could lean on.

Greg reached for another postcard but stopped when someone, probably a vivacious redhead in a yellow maternity dress, tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around just in time to see a familiar grin form on a face he adored.

"Have you finished making mischief?"

Patricia laughed.

"I was going to ask you that question."

"I was just perusing the postcards," Greg said. "Some of them, like the one showing a twenty-foot grasshopper on the back of a flatbed truck, are kind of neat."

Patricia leaned to her left and peered through the window.

"Well, if you're going to buy one, do it now. It appears Nick has made some progress with Caitlin. I imagine we'll be leaving soon."

Greg turned around and saw a scene that warmed his heart. He saw Nick lead Caitlin by the hand to a spot in the motel parking lot where the rest of the family, including Bridget and Camille, had assembled. He returned to Patricia and smiled.

"I believe you're right. I think Caitlin's ready to travel."

Patricia beamed.

"I told you things would work out."

"Yes, you did—"

Greg stopped when he peered over Patricia's shoulder and saw a sight that made his stomach sink, his heart race, and his survival instincts kick into gear. He saw Horton stare at his only customers as he spoke discreetly on a black rotary telephone.

"Patricia?"

"Yes?"

Greg eyed the man on the phone.

"What did you tell our new friend?"

"I didn't tell him anything," Patricia said. "I just signed the guestbook, ate some candy, and commented about the weather. I didn't say anything else."

"What did you write in the book?"

"I just—"

Greg knew the second he saw his wife's face turn white that his last day in the 1940s was not going to be a peaceful one. He got right to the point.

"What did you write?"

Patricia frowned.

"I wrote our real names. I forgot."

Greg stared again at Horton.

"It doesn't matter. We have to go."

"What?" Patricia asked.

He took her hand.

"We have to leave!"

Greg did not wait for Patricia's reply. When he saw Horton become agitated and speak more forcefully into the phone, he knew it was time to leave. When he saw the formerly friendly merchant point accusingly at two people whose names were almost certainly on wanted posters and police bulletins, he knew it was time to leave immediately .

Greg tightened his hold on Patricia's hand, glanced at Horton as he continued his urgent conversation, and opened the door to the street. He did not worry about bells on doors or squeaky floors or even suspicious movements. He already had the town's attention.

CHAPTER 83: ADAM

Adam heard trouble before he saw it. Standing in the motor court parking lot with a joyous group that celebrated the emotional return of a beloved sister, he glanced at the souvenir shop across the street when he heard someone slam its door.

He needed only a second to see that the door slammers, Greg and Patricia, were not expressing their disapproval with the store's policies or prices. He could see as clear as day that the normally unflappable family members were running for their lives.

"We have trouble," Adam said.

Natalie looked at her brother.

"What do you mean?"

Adam pointed to the east.

"Take a look."

Natalie frowned when she saw Greg and Patricia hustle down the store's concrete stairs, step around an unoccupied tricycle, and enter the narrow street. She seemed to understand what was happening just by looking at the couple running her way.

"We're cooked. I know it."

Adam did not ask Natalie to explain. He knew he'd have answers soon enough. He moved toward Greg and Patricia as they crossed the street and stepped into the lot.

"What's going on?"

"We've been discovered," Greg said. He caught his breath. "The shop owner called the police when we were in the store. The cops will be here soon. We have to leave!"

Adam stepped back, did a head count, and pondered the next step in a trip that kept getting worse. When he realized that the family had no choice except to leave the motel and Bedford in the next minute, he addressed the clan as a group.

"Are you all ready?"

"I am," Cody said.

"I am too," Caitlin added.

Adam turned to Greg.

"Did you pack the bags?"

Greg nodded.

"Both are in the trunk."

Adam did not need to know more. He knew if the family had the carpetbags with the assets, maps, and travel documents, it had everything.

"Then forget the rest and pile into the car."

Natalie spoke up.

"We can't all fit in the Chrysler."

"We're going to have to," Adam said. "Let's go!"

Nick stepped forward.

"Let me follow in the Caddy. Let me follow you to the portal. We can meet in New Paris and settle the rest later. We have two cars, Adam. We should use them."

"I agree," Natalie said. "I'm going with Nick."

Adam felt his head swim as he considered the new complication. He had never split up the family on a travel day, much less a travel day when police were on their tail.

"Adam," Bridget said. "Make a decision."

Adam looked at his wife, who held Camille in her arms, and then mentally traveled the fourteen miles to the portal. He knew if the family left now and drove to New Paris by way of U.S. Highway 30 and State Route 96, it just might make it. He looked at Natalie.

"Do you know where to go if we get separated?"

"I think so," Natalie said.

"Natalie, this is no time for doubt."

"I'll get us there, Adam. Let's leave!

Convinced that his sister could deliver, Adam gave the order to go. Then he placed his arm around Bridget, escorted her to a sedan thirty feet away, and helped his wife, daughter, and four others get into a vehicle designed for eight.

He did not give much thought to his situation as he turned on the ignition, backed out of his space, and drove to the exit. He knew it was fight or flight time and that he could sort out the details if and when circumstances gave him the chance.

When Nick and Natalie pulled up behind him a few seconds later, Adam looked both ways down Juliana Street, turned north, and headed toward the highway. Then he tightened his grip on the wheel, stepped on the gas, and roared through town like a bat out of hell as the Cadillac followed, police sirens sounded, and the forces of time closed in.

CHAPTER 84: ADAM

Bedford County, Pennsylvania

Adam and the others got out of Dodge before the sheriff. Driving at speeds above the posted limits but within the bounds of common sense, they escaped the borough of Bedford before local police could assemble, compare notes, and apprehend them.

The lead driver had decided to ease up a bit when he saw two southbound deputies pass his northbound party of nine on Juliana and not turn around. He figured he had at least five minutes before the lawmen took statements from the shop owner, the motel clerk, and others and headed back toward U.S. 30.

Once on the road that many called the Lincoln Highway, Adam paid more attention to what was in front of him than what was behind him. He was sure he could beat any police car in a fourteen-mile sprint. He was not as sure he could beat a roadblock.

Unlike on the solstices of December 2017, June 1889, and December 1918, he did not carry a pistol or a rifle. He did not even carry a knife. Yielding to family members who had tired of violence and confrontation, he had left his weapons behind.

So had Greg. Even though he had used guns at least three times to get family members or future family members out of trouble, he had sworn off firearms too. Like Adam, Cody, and the others in the family, he had decided to live by his wits.

As Adam scanned the road ahead and looked for police cars, roadblocks, and other hazards, he pondered the next step. Like every other adult in the caravan, with the possible exception of Nick, he knew he had to kill time as well as miles.

Adam thought he and the others could elude the cops until one thirty, when they would either plunge ahead to 2017 or hold out for 1972. He was not as certain they could elude the police until seven thirty. If he and his family did not find Tim and Caroline Carson in the next ninety minutes, they would have to make a very tough call.

Adam did not want to consider all the possibilities. Nor did he want to revisit old problems. All he wanted to do now was reach New Paris undetected, find a private place to catch his breath, and chill with his favorite people until they had to act.

As he approached an overpass and the intersection with the Pennsylvania Turnpike, he again looked for trouble. Again, he did not find it. If the deputies in Bedford had contacted the state police, they had not provided them with useful information.

Adam counted his blessings as he drove under the overpass and continued west on a road that was part of a coast-to-coast highway. He considered any day a good day when he could relax with his family, enjoy lush mountain scenery, and elude the police.

Increasingly confident that he had put the worst behind him, he settled into his seat, turned to the smiling woman and baby at his right, and tried to tune in to the conversations in the back of the car. He found both nearly impossible to follow.

"What are you gabbing about back there?"

"Who wants to know?" Greg asked.

"Camille does," Adam said. He looked over his shoulder at Greg, who shared the wide back seat with Patricia, Cody, and Caitlin. "She thinks you're speaking too quietly."

"Tell her we're trying to keep the noise down so she can sleep. Then tell her old man to keep his eyes on the road and steer clear of the ditches."

"I'll do that."

"Thank you."

Adam glanced at Bridget, who gave him a Greg-is-right smile, and then looked in the rear-view mirror for the first time in minutes. As he expected, he saw Nick Mays trailing close behind, talking to Natalie, and seemingly having a good time.

Though Adam still had some questions about Nick's transition from future member of the Army Air Force to future member of the Carson family, he liked the guy and thought he was a good match for his luckless-in-love sister. He looked forward to renewing his friendship with a man who continued to surprise and intrigue.

Adam slowed down as he approached Schellsburg, a town of three hundred souls that stood at the junction with State Route 96. He knew if the Carsons found any trouble between Bedford and New Paris, they would almost certainly find it here.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the borough and saw nothing more alarming than girls fighting with water balloons and an old man scolding his dog. If Schellsburg was a trap, he thought, it was a well-disguised one. He was almost home free.

Adam stopped at the intersection, waited for a pedestrian to cross, and then turned right onto Market Street. After checking his mirror again to make sure his party of nine was not a party of seven, he tapped the accelerator, increased his speed to thirty, and pulled out of town as Market Street became State Route 96. He could feel the relief.

Then he saw them. As he drove north, toward New Paris, the portal, and the future, Adam saw two police cars approach from the north. He held his breath when he passed the cops and exhaled when they continued toward Schellsburg. He silently celebrated as the law enforcement vehicles drifted farther and farther away, but he celebrated too soon.

The police flipped on their lights and sirens, turned their vehicles around, and headed north at a brisk pace. They signaled to Adam that the gig was up and the chase was on.

"Hang on!"

"What's happening?" Greg asked.

"The cops are happening," Adam said. He eyed the mirror again. "Hang on and keep your eyes on Nick and Natalie. We can't afford to lose them."

"Roger that."

From that point on, Adam focused on losing the police, keeping his family intact, and finding a shimmering sheet that was hopefully more than a mirage. Finding a place to hide was now more a pipe dream than a plan. The situation had changed again.

Three miles later, as Nick and the cops followed at similar clips, Adam realized he had to do something different. He had to ditch the police, at least for a few minutes, so that he could gather Nick and Natalie and take the family through the portal as one intact group.

As he approached New Paris at sixty miles per hour, he concluded that his best option was to turn right, or east, onto Henson Lane, a rural route that had served area farmers since at least 1888. If he could lose the cops there without losing Nick and Natalie, he might be able to pull it off. He turned to Cody, who occupied the right side of the back seat.

"Stick your arm out."

"Stick my what?" Cody asked.

"Stick your arm out the window on my command. Give Nick some warning that we're going to turn right. I want to lose the police without losing him."

"Got it."

As he sped toward Henson Lane, Adam longed for a cell phone, a walkie-talkie, or even a working right blinker. He had neglected to fix the one he had damaged while backing the car out of a motel lot in Nashville. He had never regretted a decision more.

"Are you ready?" Adam said.

"I'm ready," Cody replied.

"Stick out your arm."

"I am."

"Pull it back."

"I did."

Adam checked his mirror and saw Nick lift a thumb. Though he would have preferred a verbal confirmation, he considered the thumb a positive sign. Nick was good to go.

"Here it comes, Cody. Stick it out!"

Seconds after Cody fully extended his arm, Adam turned onto Henson Lane in a manner that would have made James Bond proud. He skidded only slightly as he turned off a smooth paved road and onto a bumpy unpaved one. Though he was normally as proficient at performance driving as a driver's education student, he had come through today.

Nick had too. Though he fishtailed and kicked up a cloud of dust as he moved from the state route to the rural route, he managed to complete his turn in one piece. When he finally straightened the Cadillac, he stepped on the gas, blew past a tractor, and caught up to Adam where Henson Lane ran headlong into Sycamore Road.

Adam pumped his fist and shouted when he looked in his side mirror and saw that Nick had left the cops behind. He knew he had a minute, maybe two, before the police turned around in New Paris and continued their pursuit. He turned right onto Sycamore Road, which paralleled State Route 96 a half mile to the east, and rolled to a stop.

With his adrenaline pumping, Adam jumped out of his car, motioned for Nick to pull behind the Chrysler, and then ran to the passenger side. He opened Bridget's door and shouted to Nick and Natalie as they exited the Cadillac and sprinted toward the sedan.

"You're going to have to squeeze in front."

"We'll manage," Natalie said. "Let's go!"

Adam did not need another cue. He ran around the front of the Chrysler to the driver's side, reentered the car, and shut his door as Nick and Natalie crowded next to Bridget and Camille in the front seat and shut theirs. For the first time ever, all nine members of the Carson family, the new Carson family, gathered in the same vehicle.

Adam shifted into gear, pulled away from the shoulder of the road, and raced south on Sycamore Road toward the intersection with Hollow Lane. Once there, he needed only to turn right, drive about two miles west, and look for a familiar field.

He glanced again in his mirrors as he picked up speed. He did not see any cops. He did not see any people. For once, Adam thought, he had done something right.

Then he reached the intersection, glanced in two directions, and saw he had done just the opposite. He had not guided his family to freedom. He had led them into a trap.

CHAPTER 85: ADAM

Adam needed only seconds to realize he was screwed. When he looked to the south, he saw a BRIDGE OUT sign. When he looked to the west, he saw a roadblock.

He knew from reading local maps that he could not flee north on Sycamore Road, which ended a mile north of Henson Lane. Nor, as the sign indicated, could he continue south. He could only backtrack to Henson Lane and Route 96, where old trouble waited, or proceed down Hollow Lane to Route 96, where new trouble did.

Adam scanned the vicinity one more time for cops and farmers and other threats and then turned slowly, almost reluctantly, onto Hollow Lane. When he realized he could not put off a discussion one minute more, he pulled again to the side of the road, shifted the Chrysler into neutral, and gazed at a hell's-a-blazing police roadblock a half a mile away.

"There it is, folks. Our destiny waits."

"I count three cops," Greg said.

Adam pointed to the southwest.

"Try four. Another just joined the party."

"What are we going to do?" Cody asked.

Adam took a deep breath.

"That's up to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we can either surrender peacefully or run the gauntlet. If we surrender, we may not have the chance to travel again as a family for several years. If we drive through that police blockade, we may invite a hail of bullets. Cast your votes now."

"I vote to go," Cody said.

Adam looked over his shoulder.

"Caitlin?"

"I'm with Cody."

Adam continued the balloting.

"Greg? Patricia?"

The newlyweds exchanged somber looks and then somber nods. If they feared a violent finish to a pleasant day, they appeared to fear a life apart even more.

"We're in," Greg said.

Adam nodded and then turned to the voters in front. Though he already had the votes he needed to run the roadblock, he did not want a simple majority. He wanted the clear support of every family member before making the call of his life.

"Nick? Natalie?"

Like Greg and Patricia, the dating couple, acting very much like a married couple, took a moment to consider the costs. They exchanged knowing frowns and smiles, mumbled a few words, and finally came to the decision that Adam hoped to hear.

"We're in too," Natalie said.

Adam paused before proceeding to Bridget. He knew that his wife, a new mother, had the most to lose and perhaps the least to gain. Unlike the Carson siblings, she had no serious stake in the future or Tim and Caroline Carson. She did have a vested interest in keeping her family together and seeing her daughter grow up with two living parents.

"Honey?"

"I don't know," Bridget said.

"If you need a minute, take it."

"Is there no other course?"

Adam shook his head.

"I'm afraid there isn't."

Bridget gazed at Camille, who slept in her arms, and then stared blankly out the front window at the danger in the distance. She offered Adam a sad smile.

"It always comes to this, doesn't it?"

"What's that?" Adam asked.

"Danger. Uncertainty. Risk. For as long as I have known you, we have faced choices like this and had to make life-and-death decisions on a moment's notice."

"It's not too late to back out."

"Oh, yes it is. I can no more say no to you now than I could the day I agreed to marry you or the day I followed you into the future. I am as committed now as ever."

"Is that a go then?"

Bridget nodded.

"It's a go."

Adam took a moment to consider his next move. Armed with a capable car and the unqualified support of the people he loved, he had everything he needed to succeed except a workable plan and perhaps a bulldozer. He gazed again at the scene to the west and searched his mind for answers and options. Then he glanced at the recently harvested hay field to his left and realized he had one. For the first time in minutes, he had genuine hope.

"Is everyone ready?"

Several people answered in the affirmative.

"Do you have a plan?" Greg asked.

"I do," Adam said. He pointed to the field. "I'm going to drive down this road like I'm going to ram the cars and then pull into that field. If I can reach Route 96 and drive around that roadblock before the cops move their rigs, I think I can get to the portal."

"Then what?"

"Then we'll head into the great unknown."

"I guess that beats the morgue," Greg said.

Adam smiled.

"Yes, it does."

Bridget looked at Adam.

"Do you need more time?"

"No. I'm ready," Adam said. He looked at his wife, kissed her cheek, and looked at her with pure affection. Then he sighed and turned to face the others. "I think we're going to make it, folks. I really do. In the event we don't, though, I want you to know that I appreciate your confidence. You are the best family a man could ask for. I love you all."

The others in the family responded in kind. One by one, they patted Adam on the shoulder, told him how they felt, and offered words of encouragement. Only Caitlin, the grieving girl still finding her way, kept her thoughts and feelings to herself.

"Are you all right?" Adam asked.

"I'm fine," Caitlin said.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. Let's do this."

With those words of support, Adam turned around, placed his sweaty hands on the steering wheel, and got down to business. He shifted into gear, pulled back onto Hollow Lane, and pressed the accelerator. He drove toward a four-car roadblock like a man with a death wish — or least a man on a mission. At twelve thirty-five, he was all in.

As he approached the intersection with Route 96, he noticed one thing that raised his spirits and another that lowered them. He gave each the consideration it deserved.

On the plus side, the four policemen had given him an opening. Though they had completely blocked off Hollow Lane, at least the section east of the intersection, they had left Route 96 as open as an eight-lane freeway. None of the cops, it appeared, anticipated a feint and a flank maneuver on this sunny June afternoon. All were about to get them.

On the minus side, all four policemen had drawn their guns. If they had any intention of bringing this tense situation to a peaceful conclusion, they did not show it. No doubt acting on orders from the FBI, which was almost certainly on the way, they looked every bit like lawmen intent on stopping the fugitives by any means necessary.

Adam set the latter circumstance aside and focused instead on the road and a flat spot to his left that provided easy access to the field. When he reached the spot, about fifty yards from the roadblock, he turned left, drove into the field, and made a beeline for Route 96.

The police responded slowly. Undoubtedly shocked and surprised by the sudden turn of events, they did not move. They watched the Chrysler like people attending a parade might watch a particularly entertaining float. None budged from their fixed positions.

That changed when Adam reached Route 96 a hundred yards south of the roadblock, swerved onto the road, and headed north toward the cops. By the time he approached the intersection, every lawman had taken up a new position and re-aimed his gun.

"We're not going to make it," Natalie said.

Nick reached into his leather jacket.

"Oh, yes we are."

He pulled a Colt M1911 pistol from a chest holster, poked his head out his window, and aimed his gun at the first cop he saw. He wore the face of a man who meant business.

Adam turned his head.

"What the hell?"

"It's my father's service pistol. I thought it might come in handy," Nick said. He scanned the scene ahead. "Just keep driving. I'll cover you."

Adam did not argue. He stepped on the gas and tightened his hold on the wheel as he reached the intersection and a showdown that had quickly spun out of control.

"Get down, people. Get down now!"

The four in back dropped to the floor. Bridget, still holding Camille, threw herself forward toward the dash. Natalie did the same. Everyone in the vehicle except Adam and Nick lowered their heads and did what they could to stay out of harm's way.

Nick did not wait for the police to shoot or even issue an order to stop. Knowing that surprise was the most effective weapon in any confrontation, he opened fire on the cop at the right and then at the others as they scrambled for cover.

Adam felt his heart race as he entered the cluttered intersection, approached four police cruisers, and started to turn left onto Hollow Lane. He felt it pound when the cops raised their heads, returned fire, and peppered the right side of the Chrysler with several rounds.

Natalie covered Bridget and Camille with her body as the sedan surged through the danger zone. She popped up when the car finally fishtailed onto Hollow Lane.

"We did it!"

Adam frowned.

"No, we didn't."

Natalie looked at the driver.

"What's the matter?"

"They hit a tire," Adam said. He felt the car pull to the right. "They hit a tire in front and something under the hood. We're losing power. I don't know if we can make it."

Adam battled a dozen emotions as his wounded vehicle limped toward a field and a portal about a mile away. He wondered if things could possibly get worse. Then he heard a sickening moan from the back seat, a moan from a male, and realized they could.

"What's the matter?"

"Cody's been shot!"

Adam looked at Caitlin.

"He's been what?"

"He's been shot," Caitlin said. "He's bleeding!"

Adam looked over his shoulder and saw that Cody, sitting by the right passenger door, had taken a round in his right upper arm. He glanced at the road and then at his brother.

"Cody?"

"I'll survive," Cody said. "Keep driving."

Adam returned his attention to the road. Though he saw nothing ahead that caused him concern, he saw plenty behind. When he looked in his side mirror, he saw three police units leave the intersection and begin a hot pursuit.

"I need help, Nick!"

Nick reloaded his pistol.

"You've got it."

Adam cringed as the flat tire in front became a no tire in front and the car slowed from forty miles per hour to thirty-five to thirty. With more than a half a mile to go, he knew that his family's fate now rested squarely on the lasting power of a damaged engine and the aim of a former literature teacher who had proved to be surprisingly adept with a gun.

For the next minute, Adam pushed the Chrysler, Nick shot at the cops, Cody pressed his wounded arm, and five other adults looked on in terror. Only Camille, sweet little Camille, managed to cope like a pro. She slept in Bridget's arms like she hadn't a care in the world.

Adam swore when the Chrysler, his trusty companion of six months, started to sputter and shake. He wondered how long it would last before it gave up the ghost.

"How are you doing, Nick?"

Nick looked at the driver.

"I'm out. I'm out of ammo. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Adam said.

Natalie turned to her brother.

"Are we going to make it?"

Adam glanced again at his mirror and saw that the lawmen Nick had kept at bay had regained most of their lost ground. He knew now that his capture was only a matter of time.

"I don't think so."

"Are you sure?" Greg asked.

Adam sighed.

"I'm sure. We'll have to split up."

"No!" Caitlin said. "We stay together!"

Adam felt his heart sink and his stomach turn as the car sputtered again. He had no answers for his sister. He had no answers for anyone. He had failed everyone.

Then he saw it. At twelve forty-five on the summer solstice, as he entered a familiar section of a familiar road, Adam looked to his right and saw the prize.

Stretched across the far side of a field of head-high corn, the Pennsylvania portal, the shimmering sheet the Carson siblings had last seen in December 1888, beckoned the weary driver like a siren on a rock. It restored hope just as it had begun to fade.

"We're not done yet," Adam said.

Natalie pointed out the window.

"There it is!"

Adam gazed at the sight again and cheered. Then he glanced in his rear-view mirror and realized he had cheered too soon. He saw a cop on his tail a hundred yards away.

Adam pondered his options one last time as the lead policeman drifted into the oncoming lane and prepared to pass the Chrysler. He knew if the officer succeeded in pulling in front of him and stopping his progress, it was over. Then it got worse.

Three more police cars, approaching from the west, entered the scene. The state troopers rolled to a stop about a quarter mile away, completely blocked the road ahead, and cut off the easiest access to the portal. The others continued the hunt from the east.

"Greg? Nick?"

The men responded in unison.

"Yeah?"

"I need your input," Adam said. "If I turn off the road and plow into that field, will the police follow? Will they still shoot? Will they try to take us out?"

"Yes on all counts," Greg said.

Nick frowned.

"I'm afraid so."

Adam sighed.

"I was hoping for a different answer."

"Why?" Greg asked.

"Because now I have no choice!"

Adam jerked the wheel and turned off the road. With courage, resolve, and daring, he drove a damaged car into a sea of corn and sent several people flying.

Patricia and Caitlin screamed. Cody shouted. Greg swore. Camille, no longer sleeping, wailed as loudly as ever. Bridget and Natalie clung to each other. Only Nick, who seemed to understand what the family was up against, kept his cool. He looked out the window and calmly scanned the vicinity for hostiles like the combat pilot he would never be.

Adam did the same. Even when policemen on both sides exited their vehicles and ran into the field, he maintained his composure. Then three bullets struck the car.

"Get down!"

Adam did not have to repeat himself. As soon as he barked an order he did not want to give, seven adults, including Cody, who still writhed in pain, hit the floor.

In that terrifying moment, as bullets whizzed through corn stalks, a durable vehicle struggled, and several souls huddled in fear and misery, Adam finally understood that he and his family had made the right call. They had been right to distrust authority.

Time travelers with knowledge of the Battle of the Bulge, Yalta, Potsdam, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki were not just annoyances. They were threats to America's national security and tempting targets for its enemies. They were problems that had to be eliminated.

Motivated now only by the desire to survive, Adam drove deeper into the corn until the sounds of bullets and voices became distant and dim. Then he turned the Chrysler one more time, aimed it at a portal a hundred yards away, and stepped on the gas.

Adam pushed the engine hard. He drove as fast as he could until he reached the western edge of a Pennsylvania field and approached the vast mirage. He slowed down, regained his bearings, and gathered his courage. Then he pressed the pedal, willed the car forward, and drove his family through a shimmering sheet and into the great unknown.

CHAPTER 86: TIM

Yavapai County, Arizona

The shadows told the story. At four thirty, when Tim and Caroline had arrived at the portal and expected to find their children, the shadows that flowed from Courthouse Butte were few, short, and spread apart. At seven fifteen, when it became clear they would not find them at all, the shadows were many, long, and bunched together.

That development both saddened and surprised. Though Tim knew his kids might flock to another portal, he had been sure they would visit this one. They had spent the last six months in the Grand Canyon State. The least they could have done was stay here.

Long before he and his wife had left Flagstaff, Tim had second-guessed himself and wondered if he could have done anything different. Would a simple classified ad in a Phoenix paper have done the trick? Would an earlier or a more thorough search?

Tim did not know. All he knew at seven fifteen, as a rich red sun began its final descent in the western horizon, was that he had failed. For the third time in as many tries, he had failed to find his children in the past. Whether he and Caroline would find them in 1972, the next stop on a trip both were eager to finish, was an open question.

Tim pondered his mistakes and his uncertain future for several minutes and then turned to his reflective wife, who sat on the hood of a 1938 Chevrolet Master Coupe they had purchased in Flagstaff on Monday. He did not need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking on this warm and dry solstice evening. He knew she was thinking about past failures and the dwindling odds of seeing their children again.

"Are you going to be all right?"

Caroline smiled sadly.

"Do I have a choice?"

"We all have a choice," Tim said. "We can give up or keep moving. I'm sure the kids are going through the same motions right now. We just have to keep faith."

Caroline patted the hood.

"Come sit. Sit next to me."

Tim obliged. He knew the least he could do after letting his wife down for the umpteenth time on their journey through the past was spend a moment with her.

He climbed on the hood of the red Chevy, a used vehicle the couple had picked up for four hundred dollars, and scooted next to his thoughtful partner. Then he placed his arm around her shoulders and gazed at the sun as it performed its closing act.

"It's pretty tonight."

"It's pretty every night," Caroline said. "I never tire of this place. I just tire of coming to portals without our children. I'm tiring of a lot of things."

Tim nodded.

"So am I."

"Do you think it will ever end?"

"We'll know in a year."

Caroline looked at her husband.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we'll know in a year," Tim said. "We'll either find the kids in the next twelve months or we won't find them at all. I'm still betting on a happy outcome."

"I wish I had your optimism."

"You do. If you didn't, you would have called it quits long ago. You continue because you believe, deep down, that our persistence will pay off."

Caroline laughed.

"Thank you, Dr. Carson."

"You're welcome," Tim said. He smiled, pulled her close, and tried to make the most of the moment. "I know this is hard. It's brutal, in fact. I've wanted to give up more times than I can count. I might have, too, were it not for one thing."

"What's that?"

"The kids are still tracking us. Even though they didn't find us in 1889, 1918, or 1944, they are still trying to find us. They are still following the script."

"That doesn't mean they will follow it forever," Caroline said. "Our oldest boys have wives now, Tim. Adam has a daughter. Caitlin, our baby , had a serious boyfriend. The kids are moving on with their lives. At some point, I fear, they will move on without us."

Tim looked at his wife.

"They won't."

Caroline returned his gaze.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," Tim said. "I'm positive because we raised them right. We raised them to fight for the lives they want and not merely lives that are convenient. I guarantee they won't rest until they find us and make this family whole again."

Caroline wiped away a tear.

"I like your thinking, buddy."

"I thought you would."

"What time do you have?"

Tim looked at his watch.

"I have show time. It's seven twenty-seven."

"Then we better go," Caroline said.

Tim nodded in agreement. Though he wanted to spend more time in this magic place, he knew he could not do so tonight. He had an appointment to keep. So he eased his wife off the hood, opened her door, and helped her into a car that would someday be a classic.

He had purchased the Chevy for a simple reason. After walking, hitching, and riding on horses to and from portals for years, he wanted to travel in comfort.

Tim walked to the driver's side, entered the vehicle, and then settled into a bench seat that was as comfortable as any couch. For a moment, as Caroline sat motionless at his side, he did nothing except bask in the moment and ponder the interesting days to come.

Then he turned on the ignition, shifted into gear, and drove the coupe fifty yards to a magic membrane that flapped in the breeze like a new store banner. Though he had never driven a motor vehicle through a portal, he had little doubt he could. He figured that time machines that welcomed people and horses would also welcome cars.

He checked his watch one last time, noted the big hand on the six, and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. Then he directed his attention to the attraction ahead, stepped lightly on the gas, and drove from the world of his grandparents to the world of his youth.

CHAPTER 87: NATALIE

New Paris, Pennsylvania

Natalie did not obey her brother. Though she heard Adam's command to lower her head and even observed it for a moment, she did not observe it until the end.

Seconds before Adam drove the family car through the time portal, she lifted her head just a tad to get a better look at her surroundings. She caught a glimpse of a few stalks of corn before a whizzing bullet reminded her that curiosity could kill more than cats.

Dropping again to the floor, where Bridget, Camille, and Nick took refuge from .38-caliber rounds and other flying terrors, Natalie kept her head down until she felt the sputtering Chrysler roll to a stop. When she saw Adam take a deep breath, shift the car into neutral, and glance at his nearest passengers, she knew the coast was clear.

"Did we make it?" Natalie asked.

"We made it."

"Did anyone follow?"

Adam looked in the rear-view mirror.

"I don't think so."

Natalie lifted her head as the others did the same. When she was finally able to sit up straight in the front seat, she turned her head in two directions and checked the status of several people who had cheated death one more time. She quickly focused on Cody.

"How is your arm?"

"It's still attached," Cody said. He applied pressure to a wound he had covered with a formerly clean handkerchief. "It hurts like hell, but it's still attached."

Natalie frowned.

"Can you hold on a little longer?"

Cody nodded.

"I'll be fine. I just need a bandage and a beer."

Greg grinned.

"That's my boy!"

Caitlin leaned toward the driver.

"Are we still in Pennsylvania?"

Adam checked the mirrors and windows. Then he looked over his shoulder at the girl with the question and provided an answer that everyone wanted to hear.

"We're still here. We're still in New Paris. I recognize some of the trees. Whether we are in the 1970s is another question. I don't think we are."

Natalie looked at Adam.

"Why do you say that?"

Adam pointed out the front window.

"Do you see that tractor over there?"

Natalie followed her brother's moving finger to a 1950s John Deere about forty yards away. Bright green with yellow wheels and an exposed engine, the vehicle looked like a Smithsonian exhibit or a full-size replica of one of Cody's childhood toys.

"I see it."

Adam stared at his sister.

"When was the last time you saw one of those?"

Natalie smiled.

"About ten minutes ago."

Adam hardened his stare.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do," Natalie said. "I also know that one can find old John Deere tractors in the 1970s, the 1990s, and even in 2017. Those things never die."

Greg chuckled.

"She's got you there, Chief."

"Maybe," Adam said. "Maybe not."

Natalie eyed the skeptic.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that maybe we should explore our new surroundings a bit before jumping to any conclusions," Adam said. "Are you up for a drive?"

Natalie beamed.

"You have the wheel."

With that, Adam Carson, a man who did not like to be upstaged by anyone, shifted his car into gear. He drove the vehicle out of the cornfield and pulled up onto Hollow Lane. Then he changed the tire and headed back toward town. If he harbored any more hunches about the time or the place his family now called home, he kept them to himself.

As the Chrysler limped toward New Paris and new answers, Natalie noticed things she had not noticed before. She saw 1950s houses and barns and "new" cars that looked like props from Grease or American Graffiti . She also saw a smattering of yard signs.

Two feet tall and three feet wide, with white letters on a blue background, the signs touted a candidate with a vaguely familiar name. They urged locals and passing motorists, or at least the ones who could vote in Pennsylvania, to support a person named Scranton.

"Greg?"

"Yes?"

Natalie spotted another sign.

"Do you know Pennsylvania history?"

"I know a little," Greg said.

"Then who's Scranton?"

"Bill Scranton?"

"I don't know," Natalie said. "I just see a bunch of Scranton signs on this side of the road. I've seen at least five or six since we left the field."

"If the signs are for Bill Scranton, then Adam won your little showdown. Bill Scranton was a one-term governor of Pennsylvania in the 1960s. He ran for president in 1964, but he didn't get very far. He lost to Barry Goldwater at the Republican convention."

"Did he run for office later?"

"I don't think so," Greg said. "If I remember right, he served as an ambassador in the seventies, but he never again ran for office. He was a one-and-done governor."

"I see."

"Are we in the sixties?" Caitlin asked.

Natalie glanced at Adam and saw a smug smile form on his face. She began to suspect he was more right than wrong in guessing the decade. She looked at her sister.

"I don't know."

Caitlin frowned.

"Then we should get a newspaper and find out."

"I think that's a great idea," Patricia said. She smiled. "Some of us in the back seat would like to know where those of you in the front have taken us."

Natalie looked at Adam.

"Isn't there a store in town?"

Adam turned his head.

"There used to be."

"Then let's find it," Natalie said. She grabbed Nick's thigh as their bullet-ridden car, the survivor of a 1940s shootout, sputtered again and started to slow. "We may need more than a store and a paper today. We may need a tow truck and a mechanic."

Adam frowned as he and the others approached an intersection that was once the scene of significant police activity. Then he turned left onto State Route 96, drove north toward the only town in the vicinity, and scanned the road ahead for something useful.

Natalie spotted that something a moment later as the travelers entered New Paris. She saw a small general store, with two paper racks in front, on the right side of the road.

"There it is. Let's stop."

Adam nodded in agreement. Then he slowed down, waited for two pedestrians to cross the narrow highway, and pulled into the store's gravel parking lot. He found an empty spot in front of the store, turned off the engine, and looked at his oldest sister.

"Do you want me to get it?"

"No," Natalie said. "Let me."

She grabbed some change out of the glove box, asked Nick to make way, and followed him out of the vehicle a few seconds later. Then she turned to face the store and walked toward the most important paper racks in the world.

Natalie chose the rack on the left. She figured it was only fitting that she obtain the answer to a pressing question from the Pittsburgh Pilot , which had employed her as a correspondent in the winter and spring of 1889.

As the others looked on from the Chrysler, she plunked a dime in the slot, pulled down the door, and grabbed the first paper she saw. Then she shut the door, turned around, and read the date at the top of the front page. She got the answer she expected.

Natalie returned to the car, handed Nick the paper, and stuck her head through the front right window. She looked at Adam and smiled.

"It appears your hunches are golden."

CHAPTER 88: NATALIE

Johnstown, Pennsylvania – Monday, June 25, 1962

Sitting at two tables they had sheepishly pushed together, the Carsons met for the first time as a family of nine. For Nicholas Mays, the gathering at Central Park was an entirely new experience. For most of the rest, it was a trip down Memory Lane that triggered recollections, both good and bad, and conjured images of another time.

Natalie had recommended the venue precisely because she wanted the family to return to its time-traveling roots before embarking on an adventure it had not planned and did not see coming. She wanted her siblings and her significant other to consider both the opportunities and limitations of 1962 before getting on with the business of living.

For the first time in several weeks, Adam, the de facto family leader, gave up his figurative gavel. Tired of running the show and guiding the clan's biggest decisions, he passed the gavel to Greg, who in turn passed it to his oldest sister.

Sitting at the head of the table, Natalie cherished the chance to lead. As the oldest unmarried Carson and only one to bring an adult from the 1940s to the 1960s, she relished the opportunity to play a central role in planning the next six months.

"Did everyone sleep well?" Natalie asked.

"I did. I slept really well," Cody said. He smiled. "I highly recommend hotels that stay in place. I think they are very restful."

Natalie and several others laughed at the wry remark. They knew that the family's most memorable night in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, was anything but restful.

Hours after a wall of water had flattened the city on May 31, 1889, Cody had slept in a tree house, Natalie and Caitlin had huddled in a flooded building, Adam had found refuge in a blind man's cabin, and Bridget had recovered in a Pittsburgh hospital. Only Greg had missed the violent deluge that had claimed more than two thousand lives.

Natalie looked at the group.

"I think Cody speaks for all of us — or at least most of us. I keep forgetting that Greg was in Erie during the flood and that Patricia, Nick, and Camille were not here at all."

Nick offered an empathetic smile.

"It appears I joined an adventure."

"You did," Natalie said. "What's more, that adventure isn't over. We have six months to kill in 1962 and six more in 1983. I want to talk about the first six this morning because they are the ones staring us in the face. Unlike our last three trips, we will not and cannot spend it looking for our parents. Our parents are not in 1962. They are almost certainly in 1972 and will be completely out of our reach for the duration of our time here."

"So how do you want to proceed?" Patricia asked.

"I want to start by covering some old ground. Over the weekend, Nick and I paid visits to the public library and two historical archives. We did so to see what kind of mess we made in 1944. As it turns out, we made a big one."

"Are the police still after us?" Bridget asked.

Natalie shook her head.

"I don't think so. Though we ruffled a lot of feathers in New Paris, we did not create any lasting enemies. According to the newspaper articles we read, local police dismissed us as "out-of-state agitators" on a joyride. They did not refer to us as time travelers or draft dodgers or traitors. Nor did they mention Arizona or the FBI. They did their best to sweep an embarrassing mess under the rug as soon as they could. That, folks, is the good news."

"What's the bad news?" Greg asked.

"The bad news is that we still have to play it safe. We all have to exercise extreme caution when signing documents and speaking to others, particularly authorities."

"Haven't we been doing that?"

"You have been doing that," Natalie said. "Now all of us have to exercise caution because all of us, at least technically, are still fugitives from the law."

Adam jumped in.

"What about things like statutes of limitations?"

"I don't know," Natalie said. "Though I think the law is on our side in that area, I don't know for certain. I also don't know how well law enforcement agencies keep records and communicate with each other in 1962. I think we should assume they do it well."

Natalie looked at Nick, Adam, Bridget, and Camille on the left side of the table and then at Greg, Patricia, Cody, and Caitlin on the right. As she did, she saw dejection, confusion, and more than a little anxiety. She saw signs that her work was just beginning.

"I don't want anyone to get the wrong impression. We are in much better shape now than we were in 1944 or even in 1918. We just have to err on the side of caution."

"Where will we go?" Cody asked.

Natalie smiled at her baby brother. She did so because he always asked the most relevant questions and because he wore a girly pink bandage on his right arm.

Patricia had seen to that. She had seen to all of Cody's needs as penance for her slip up at the souvenir shop in Bedford. She felt guilty about putting a Carson brother in harm's way for the second time in nine months. On September 19, 1918, she had taken Greg to a presumably safe border crossing and then sent him into the teeth of armed patrols.

"That is the question, isn't it?" Natalie asked. "Where will we go? I'm afraid it's a question I can't answer and shouldn't answer by myself. You all have equal say."

Cody frowned.

"I don't want to go back to Arizona."

Caitlin looked at Natalie.

"I don't either. I have too many bad memories."

Bridget smiled sadly.

"I feel the same way about Johnstown."

Natalie turned to Adam.

"What about you?"

Adam sighed.

"Anywhere but Minnesota is good for me."

"That doesn't leave many past venues to consider," Natalie said. She moved on to Greg and Patricia. "I imagine Tijuana isn't at the top of your list."

Greg laughed.

"You imagine correctly."

Caitlin looked again at Natalie.

"Then where will we go?"

Nick spoke up.

"How about Colorado?"

Every member of the family except Camille, who snoozed in Bridget's arms, turned to the newcomer. Each looked at Nick like he had just offered a tantalizing stock tip.

"Why Colorado?" Greg asked.

"I'll give you two reasons," Nick said. "The first is that I still have living relatives in Boulder, including uncles who can help us get settled. The second reason is that we can all make a fresh start in Colorado. None of us, including me, has any baggage in that state."

Natalie grinned before the others could catch up. She knew the simple suggestion was the brilliant idea she had been waiting for. She seized on the momentum.

"Does anyone object to Colorado?"

"I don't," Cody said. "I like the idea. There's a university in Boulder. Caitlin and I could go to college in the fall if we made the right connections."

Nick smiled.

"I think I could see to that."

"How about the rest of you?" Natalie asked.

"I like the notion," Adam said. "I like it a lot."

Greg nodded.

"I do too."

Natalie turned to the mother at the table.

"Bridget?"

"I think Colorado sounds wonderful," Bridget said. She gave Adam a playful smile. "Perhaps I'll finally get my cabin in the mountains."

"Patricia?

"I'm in."

Natalie turned to Caitlin last. She wanted her sister, the recipient of so much bad luck and hardship, to either extend the discussion or make the decision unanimous.

"Caitlin?"

"I'm in too," Caitlin said.

"You don't sound enthusiastic."

"I am. I'm just concerned."

Natalie tilted her head.

"Why is that?"

Caitlin frowned.

"I just wonder whether we'll really find the peace we need. It seems like every time we settle in a community, we find a way to muck it up. What will we do there?"

"That's easy," Natalie said. She smiled. "We'll do what we've always done. We'll live. We'll love. We'll persevere for six months. Then we'll do it again. We'll move forward."