Tear In Time (43 page)

  To the
surprise of all, David stepped aside and allowed Dr. Morgan to step forward and
accept the honor. As Dr. Morgan stepped from behind a secret service man and up
to the podium, cameras flashed wildly as David handed Dr. Morgan the letter.
With a proud smile, he accepted it and gave David a tremendous hug in thanks.

  “Thank
you, David. This is truly an honor for the Morgan family,” Dr. Morgan started.
“Today, with this letter, marks a conclusion to a story that stretches over one
hundred and forty-six years. For years, my family has agonized over the
contents of this letter. Sealed in wax, we could only speculate on its message.
Pictures, artifacts and other data have been collected by my family for
generations, but none captured our attention more than this letter. If you will
indulge me, I will now begin.”

  David
watched as Dr. Morgan carefully broke the seal and opened the delicate letter.
He laid it on the podium and softly pressed down on the folds to help keep it
open. Satisfied with the results, he began:

 
“My
Sincerest Greetings, David,

 
If
you are reading this letter, then you have completed your journey and are,
hopefully, safe in your new world. In what physical condition you arrived, I
can only speculate, but my prayers are with you for an accelerated
convalescence.

 
The
details surrounding your departure have for years caused me great grief and
sorrow. I have contemplated this dilemma from the moment I learned of your
assault, and have worked to overcome your tragedy by implementing a plan of
preparedness and expeditious action. If my calculations are correct, you are
now in the capable hands of my descendants.

 
Lad,
the end of my life has come. I can barely see the sun’s last rays of life that
hold me to this world. It is at this moment, the gravest of moments, that one’s
reflections are the most meaningful. My life, as any life, has had its share of
sadness and failure, and I have reconciled my conscience with these last
demons. The burden was not too heavy, thankfully.

 
With
the hard work behind me, I am now basking in those reflections that have given
me the greatest satisfaction and reward. Of these would be my association with
you, lad. I would be remiss if I did not inform you of my melancholy prior to
your arrival. The hard life spent away from family, waging war against violent
savages and southern combatants, as well as the horrors that resulted when
engaged in medicine, can wear on a man’s soul, and I was not immune to their
effects. I suffered internally from lack of purpose and loneliness.

 
With
your auspicious arrival, marked the dawn of a new beginning for me. Your first days
were characterized by fear and insecurity. I remember it in your eyes as you
struggled to find your footing, and I remember your humble gratitude as you
overcame diversity. Each day, we discussed the tools of daily living in this
foreign period, and each day you practiced and advanced your skill. As we
worked together to help each other, our friendship grew, filling a hole that
was dug from years of solitude.

 
Shortly
after your arrival, your skills as a brilliant surgeon became apparent, and you
selflessly and tirelessly devoted long hours to my education. As the teacher
became the student, my intellect was challenged and rewarded as you guided me
through the extraordinary advancements in medicine.

 
Our
long marches in the saddle, the nights engaged in topics of history, medicine
and battle tactic, as well as discussing the common topics of the day, created
a bond between us that was stronger than time itself, as evidenced by this very
word.

 
As
I helped you with the simple task of surviving, you helped me the more complex
task of living. You came out of nowhere and left an indelible mark. Each day
brought new challenges, infused new vigor, created meaning and depth beyond my
expectation.

 
After
your departure, I felt the loss of a loved one. I missed your daily presence,
and it took quite a while to get used to your absence, but instead of mourning
your leaving, I celebrated your existence. My last twenty years were
characterized by the time spent with family and friends, time that became the
envy of those who knew me. Life as a doctor after the war became as thrilling
as any endeavor I've encountered, as I educated others as you had educated me.

 
David,
I wish I were more eloquent and could convey to you my feelings in a simpler
message instead of one filled with convolution and long-winded tangents. What
can I say to a man who was the single greatest influence of my life? David,
friend, comrade, I am eternally grateful of our short time together. You were
kind and generous with your friendship, and if we should meet in Heaven, I
would be honored to address you as my son.

 
Godspeed
to you, David. It was an honor to know you.

Sincerely,

Doc”

  A dead
quiet came over the people as they stood and digested the emotional goodbye between
two friends. The only sound to be heard was the light breeze that blew the
winter’s wind.

  Dr.
Morgan had fought to hold back his emotions as he read the letter. Now that he
was done, he could contain himself no longer. Reaching into his pocket for a
Kleenex, he stepped back from the podium and caught the first of many tears.

 
David's hands were held to his face, catching his tears as he felt the light
touch of someone's hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw the saddened eyes of
President Obama staring at him in sympathy.

 
“David, you don't have to say anything else. The people will understand,”
President Obama said, as he motioned for David to follow him off the stage.

  “No,
sir,” David retorted instantly. “I want to say one more thing.”

 
“Please do,” President Obama said, his hand extended, motioning to the podium.

  David
stood next to his friend, Dr. Morgan, and adjusted the microphone. He surveyed
the crowd once more and tried to speak, but emotions choked back his words.

  Finally,
David raised his eyes to Heaven and in a low, soft tone, said, “Doc, I miss
you. Save me a spot by the fire.”

  As the
volume of the crowd ascended to a loud, cacophonous roar, President Obama
carefully stood between the two weeping men and carefully walked them out of
sight, the ceremony now appropriately cut short.

  As
they made their way into the oval office, President Obama offered the two men a
seat. Immediately, he began to speak.

 
“David, I just wanted to personally thank you for your bravery at Gettysburg. I
was told by historians that if you hadn't done what you did there with Custer
and turned that battle, we might have lost the war. I am here today, the first
black President of the United States, because of your actions. I can't thank
you enough,” President Obama said with sincerity in his voice.

  “Wow,
I wasn't expecting that,” David said with surprise. “You're welcome, although I
feel silly accepting responsibility for your presidency.”

 
“You're just being modest, David,” President Obama replied.

  A
quiet fell over the room. Finally, President Obama started again, “David, if at
some point in the future you feel up to it, I have a bunch of scientists
chomping at the bit, waiting to examine that time machine with you. I've
already instructed it to be preserved for future analysis. Is that something
you would feel comfortable with?” President Obama asked.

  David thought
about the question. He realized that the time portal was a dangerous tool and
one that he did not feel comfortable instructing the government about.

  “So
what do you think, David? Do you think we can replicate your experience?”
President Obama pressed.

  “I
don't,” David responded.

  “Why
not, David? The advancements that could be made with such a machine are
unimaginable,” President Obama retorted.

  “Sir,
I've given it a lot of thought. It's not a machine,” David started. “You can't
replicate it, because it's not a reproducible tool. What happened to me was a
fluke: an anomaly with time.”

  “Yes,
I understand that, but maybe we can replicate that anomaly,” President Obama
replied.

  “The
circumstances surrounding my vanishing are not mechanical. I was just at the
right place at the right time. A tear opened in time and I slipped through it,”
David explained.

  “A
tear in time?” President Obama replied.

  “Yes,
a tear in time,” David shot back.

  The
two men stared at each other for a moment, each man's will being tested.

  “I can
see this is a topic not open for discussion,” President Obama said.

  “I'm
glad you're not going to push it,” David replied.

  “For
now,” President Obama replied in joking fashion. “For now.”

~ END ~

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Christopher David Petersen,

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Sample
Chapter:

ES: Chapter 1

Year: 1846

 
Abigail Stanton stood atop the highest point on the rocks and waited. The
granite precipice was at least twenty feet above the seawater at high tide, but
due to the passing winter storm, the surge raised the water to less than ten
feet from where she stood. She trained her eyes on the violent waves that
crashed into the rock face below her. Every third wave would break, then be
drawn further out to sea than the previous wave. She could see crustaceans
being torn from their desperate grasp and washed out to sea with the foam and
spray.

  As the
black waves hit the wall below her, the momentum propelled the salty sea up
over the top of the cliff, dousing her with frigid cold water. In the short
time she stood and waited, her black Victorian-style dress became soaked and
clung to her frail body as a second skin.

 
Clutched in her petite frozen hand were five daisies. Salt water rolled down
her face, mixed with her tears and dripped onto the slightly wilted flowers. As
she timed the waves, she counted out loud.

  “One,
two, three: now!” she said to herself as the third wave slammed into the rock
face below.

---- ----
---- ---- ----

  Clad in
their heavy woolen clothing, John and Susan made their way up the backside of
the precipice. Each year, the two celebrated their wedding anniversary with an
overnight stay at their favorite inn at the far end of the crescent-shaped
beach. The storm was unfortunate, but they decided to make the most of it
anyway, with a long walk and a short climb to the top of the cliff. They felt a
bit chilled, but the invigorating sight of the violent, rolling seas was well
worth their discomfort. Holding her hand, John helped Susan up to the top of
the massive boulder. To their surprise, they realized they were not alone. On
the far left side, they could see Abigail Stanton standing with her feet
perched on the edge of the cliff.