Second Time Around (44 page)

If Vanessa stayed in the past, she would never see Rachel again. Never be able to inspire her toward independence. She had her own mother to thank for that experience.

But in the future Mom is dead.

Tears came. Tears of regret. To think she’d spent thirty-four years of her life without her mother. Never knowing what their relationship really meant to both of them. Never knowing the truth and basing her entire life on lies.

If she went back, she might be able to undo some of the damage her father’s deception had caused. Some. But the fact was, most moments were irretrievable. And only through the memories that she would retain from this visit into the past would she ever know her mother. She’d never be able to see the complete life that could have been lived under her influence, with her love. In the future, that life was gone.

She lifted her head and circled back to her first point. “But the future is established. It’s known.”

That
was
a plus. She was a successful community volunteer, she lived in a lovely home, she wanted for no material possession. She knew who she was and what she was. People respected her.

But for what? For raising the act of do-gooding to the level of a divine appointment? For making everyone around her feel inferior because they weren’t as good, weren’t as giving, weren’t a saint like she was? Oh, the pride she’d taken in being needed. Her need to be needed.

But was that really a bad thing? Wasn’t that a common human trait?

Not to the point of obsession.

She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get back on task. If she went back to the future there was one perk she hadn’t acknowledged. She’d have the chance to call her father on all his past lies. Face-to-face. There would be satisfaction in that. Revenge could be sweet.

But what would it prove? What good would come of it? Most likely she would end up being estranged from him then, as she was estranged from him here in 1976.

“I’ll start over in the future.”

That was an option. Fifty wasn’t
that
old. After telling her father off, she could rid herself of all the mediocrity of her life. She could quit her obsessive community work, quit her marriage, get an apartment of her own, and start fresh.
But isn’t that what you’re doing here?

She raised a fist to the cross. “I’m confused!”

Another voice sounded behind her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She turned around to see Lewis standing in the middle aisle. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same question.”

She let out a puff of air. There was no way she could ever explain Dual Consciousness to a 1976 man who didn’t even know about PCs, CDs, or DVDs, much less Alternities, Serums, and Loops. “I have a big decision to make, Lewis, and I—”

He slid in beside her on the pew. “Can I help?”

“If only you could.”

“I’m a good sounding board. Talk. Let your ideas bounce off me.”

It was a stupid idea, and yet… maybe a brilliant one. As her thoughts needed to turn to why she should stay in 1976, they might benefit from the compassionate heart of this man who would certainly be a part of her life here.

But how to word it? She took a moment and looked at the calm assurance evident in his face. There was compassion there. Acceptance. Understanding. She found words to start. “I’m experiencing an upheaval in my life.”

“The baby.”

It was a good place to begin. “I’m having it. I’ve gotten that far in my decision. But I’m not sure beyond that. I don’t think I’m ready to be a mother.”

His eyes lit up and he put a hand on her knee. “There’s a couple in church here… They’ve just started to talk about adopting a child. They can’t have any of their own and have been praying for a baby for years. Maybe you’re an answer to their prayers.”

Vanessa’s hand moved to her chest. “I can’t imagine being an answer to anyone’s prayers.”

Lewis smiled at her. “Oh, really?”

She bumped against him, shoulder to shoulder. She liked him. A lot. The possibilities of a relationship with Lewis O’Neal were definitely intriguing. Yet she couldn’t ignore the fact he was black. Though that didn’t mean as much in the future, back in 1976 it was still an issue. A relationship with him would involve more than just the usual man-woman concerns.

“What else?” Lewis asked.

She glanced at her watch. She was glad he was spurring her on. She had only a short time left before the Dual Consciousness would fade and she would be stuck here.

There were worse fates.

She tried once again to focus. “Mom thinks I should change majors. I don’t really like Business.”

“Pursuing that degree is the result of your father’s influence, right?”

“My entire life is the result of my father’s influence.” She looked at the cross, remembering the offering incident in her father’s church. “He’s mad at me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not sure we’ll talk again. Ever.”

“That’s a little drastic.”

“All these changes I’m talking about… he doesn’t—or won’t—approve of any of them.”

“Do you need his approval?”

“I’ve always had it.”

“Have you?”

His question stopped her cold. Had she? Even when she’d done what her father wanted her to do, in his eyes it was never done well enough, and
his
needs always took precedence. Perhaps there was no way to truly please him.

So why try?

She thought of more practical matters. “He’s cut me off financially.”

Lewis extended his hand and waited for her to shake it. “Welcome to membership in the Just-Getting-By Club.”

She tucked her hand under her thigh. “I’m sorry to admit I’m used to having money.”

“Nothing wrong with that. We all want money. We need money to survive. It’s an unfortunate fact. But there
is
a certain satisfaction in working hard to get it.”

If she was going to be involved with Lewis there was another question she had to ask. “Do you like being a maintenance man?”

He looked toward the cross a moment, then back at her. “I have a college degree.”

She let her jaw drop. “You do? Then why—?”

“Why do I work as a glorified janitor?”

She nodded.

“Right out of college, I had an office job and used my accounting degree.”

“What happened?”

“It didn’t suit me. I found it hard to focus.”

“You find focus in being a janitor?” She hated the way it sounded.

He put a hand on her knee. “I’ve discovered that the jobs I enjoy most are the ones where I find worship in the work. A way to offer it all up to Him. Attitude is everything, Vanessa. A paycheck is frosting. Though no one else may understand it, I find worship in my work here.”

“Wow.”

He laughed. “Don’t get me wrong; when I’m fixing a toilet or cleaning the carpet where some kindergartner spilled grape juice, I can complain with the best of them. It takes work to find worship in everything we do. But it’s possible. It’s a goal.”

She found herself tearing up. “I’ve never met a man like you, Lewis.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Excuse me? Lewis?”

They both turned around to see a woman in the doorway leading to the narthex. “Can you come help in the office? A shelf just broke and all Pastor Bill’s books are on the floor.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Lewis turned back to Vanessa. “Sorry. I have to go.”

“Go to it. Go worship in the work.”

He laughed. “I’ll do my best.” He stood and put a hand on the back of her head. “You going to be okay?”

She nodded. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.” And as she said the word she knew it was true. Nineteen seventy-six was full of uncertainties, of hard times ahead—both personally and in the world—and of big decisions yet to be made. There was nothing luxurious or easy about living a life here. And yet that was exciting. A breadth of possibilities lay before her. Would she make better decisions this time around?

Sometimes, and sometimes not. It was inevitable. But the fact that she had friends here, good friends, would help. And her mother was here. She looked back at the cross.

She also had Jesus here. Not the Jesus of ceremonies, fancy buildings, and business connections, but a God of the heart. A God who had created her with a unique purpose that He’d help her discover.

She’d wasted so many years in so many ways. There were only two parts of the future she would miss.

Dudley and Rachel.

There
was
a chance she’d end up marrying Dudley again. And maybe they’d have Rachel again.

She shook her head with a certainty that it would never happen. Their marriage had been an emotional reaction to the abortion she was
not
going to have. Her chances of even meeting Dudley Caldwell were slim. And if she never met Dudley, Rachel would not exist in this Alternity.

But if you go back to the future, your baby will not exist.

She pressed her hands against her face. In a way she was being forced to choose one child’s life over another. It wasn’t fair.

Life isn’t fair.

She thought of the couple Lewis mentioned, the one who’d been praying for a baby. Her baby? If she stayed behind, another family could be created. That was a good thing, wasn’t it?

Or what about the creation of a new family consisting of the baby, myself and Lewis?

She removed her hands, letting herself breathe. Then she raised her face to the ceiling, and repeated the words she’d said in the cafeteria. “Here I am, God! Show me Your plan.”

There was no direct answer. No overwhelming peace. And Vanessa realized there was no surefire way to know whether the decision she wanted to make was the one God wanted her to make. If her experience this second time around had taught her anything, it was that some decisions weren’t simply black or white. Gray prevailed. The best she could do was try to follow Him, try to think of the bigger picture, and then move forward. The peace came in knowing God would be with her either way.

Time was up. She left the sanctuary to find Lewis.

Bangor—1958

Showing up at the Reynolds’ home at breakfast would be considered strange, if not inappropriate—two traits David Stancowsky usually abhorred but today embraced. After spending the night
not
sleeping in the chair in his living room, he had little use for convention, logic, or even manners. Even the risk of dire consequences had faded from neon red to a dull gray in his consciousness. Whatever happened, happened. With the discovery of Millie’s luggage in the locker, life had changed without his permission. So what good did it do to worry about some final meeting when it would all be wrapped up like stinking fish in a newspaper to be tossed in the trash?

The sound of his feet on the porch steps was too loud, offensive, but he was unable to do anything about it. And why should he? Shouldn’t Millie hear him coming? Him, a soldier marching toward battle? Didn’t ancient warriors utilize such an ominous sound against their enemy? The sound of impending disaster, marching ever closer.
Hear me, Millie? Hear me coming to do battle? To take the upper hand?

The front door opened before he could knock. Rhonda was in a white housedress dotted with red rosebuds. She pulled the high collar together at her neck, as if it was a plunging décolletage. “David! I thought I heard someone out here.”

“May I come in?”

She eyed him oddly and stepped aside. “Of course.”

They stood awkwardly in the foyer. He hoped she would forgo the “Where were you yesterday” questions.

“May I take your hat and coat?”

His hat! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d entered a building without removing it.

She took his things, hanging them on the coat rack. “Millie’s making coffee for her father, and I was just going to make some eggs. Would you like to join us?”

“No, thank you. But could you ask Millie to come out here? I need to speak with her.”

He felt himself being studied. Rhonda put her hand on his arm. “We were worried about you, David. Yesterday. When you disappeared. Is everything all right?”

He glared at her, causing her to remove her hand. “If you’ll get Millie…” He moved to the parlor, leaving Rhonda to do as he asked.

A few moments later, Millie came into the room in a rush. “David! Where have you been?”

“What do you care?”

She blinked twice. “What’s going on?”

He pulled the locker key from his pocket. He tossed it at her. She caught it with both hands. She looked at it.

Then she headed into the foyer and took her coat from the hook. “Let’s go somewhere where we can be—”

His laugh sounded foreign to him. Removed. “You want to go somewhere? Yes, indeed, I think that’s the problem. How’s New York sound?”

She clutched the coat against her chest. Her eyes strayed to the kitchen. “Please, David. I don’t want my father to hear.”

He stood, and with a sweeping hand, encompassed the room. “But I want them to hear. Ray? Rhonda? Would you come in here, please?”