The Third Circle
Chapter 22
Part
V - The Inauguration
Chapter 24
Chapter 22
On Friday morning, the 6th of September, 1946, Claire and John went to the First Texas State Bank and Trust, which they chose only because it did not happen to be the same bank that had foreclosed the Leland house. They asked to speak with the manager, whose name was Richard Mattingly. They opened a personal joint checking account for four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and John gave Mr. Mattingly a list of the foreclosed properties they wanted to purchase, and asked if he would act in their behalf to obtain the properties. There had been eighteen of them on Danny's list, and Claire and John had identified eleven of them as sites where petroleum would be developed in the next thirty years.
They met Danny at the attorney's office building near the hotel. The attorney's name was Darryl Lockmeyer, and Claire didn't like him. He spent most of the interview in a tirade against trade unions, especially because of a maritime strike that had just broken out, closing ports all over the world.
"He's too angry," Claire said as they left. Danny was feeling dejected that he had made what seemed like so many wrong decisions. "You haven't made any wrong decisions," Claire reassured him as they walked back to the hotel. "We're just learning as we go, and the attorney we pick will be with us for a long time, so we need to find someone who we all feel good about."
They took Danny and his friends Barton and Virginia Childress to dinner at what was advertised as a family style fried chicken restaurant on the outskirts of town. It was in an all-you-can-eat buffet, and the gravy was the best Claire and John had ever eaten. It was a bit awkward for them being a captive audience for Barton and Virginia, because, while Danny had never pried or questioned them about where they came from, Barton and Virginia were most inquisitive, and Claire and John found themselves inventing stories about who they were. Danny listened intently as Claire made up a fantasy life about being a professional portrait photographer in Los Angeles, specializing in baby pictures, and John talked about being, up until the end of the War, a top secret consultant to the government on things he wasn't at liberty to discuss.
Then they all went to see The Stranger, a new movie with Orson Welles, Edward G. Robinson, and Loretta Young, about an escaped Nazi war criminal hiding out in Connecticut who spent a lot of his time trying to fix a broken clock in a church. The second feature was a Gary Cooper movie called Lives of a Bengal Lancer, which was about the British taking over in India. It had a great snake-charming scene, and they all thought it was better than The Stranger, except Danny, who had spent a couple of weeks in India on his way to Borneo. He said that the movie was "just a bunch of Hollywood." Barton and Virginia wanted to know if John had ever been to India or met any Nazi war criminals, and he said he hadn't, but even if he had, he probably wouldn't be able to say so because all of his work had been top secret.
Gus Lineweaver brought Marcus Crawford on Saturday, and Danny went along to the airport to meet the plane. The four of them spent the day in the vicinity of Danny's farm, looking at the farm itself and at the nearby properties on Danny's foreclosure list. Claire and John were pleased that Marcus and Danny seemed to hit it off really well. Marcus had done a little horse breaking and rodeoing years back, and he and Danny were able to share stories. Marcus also revealed an enormous wealth of knowledge about the oil business, and quickly earned Danny's respect. Claire brought the big Sinas and tripod and took pictures while Marcus made notes and estimates concerning where they would have to make access roads to get equipment in.
They drove back to the Charlotte. Claire posted her film, putting the New York General Delivery address on the return, and they all had dinner together in the dining room. Claire and John offered Marcus two-hundred dollars a week and moving expenses to come and oversee the development. Marcus accepted, but declined the moving expenses, saying that he was a "light traveler." He said that he would have to give two weeks notice before leaving the job he had, but that he would start right away contracting the drilling to a company he trusted in Oklahoma City, and they could start preliminary work within several days. Claire and John said they would put Gus Lineweaver at his disposal if he needed to come back out during the startup. They told him that Danny would be in charge of the project, acting in their behalf, and that they would be leaving him with instructions, but that Marcus would be in charge of all of the technical aspects of the business.
After dinner, Claire and John made arrangements to meet Danny for lunch on Monday, and Marcus and Danny said good night and left the hotel together. Claire and John went back to their room and listened to Guy Lombardo on the radio for awhile, and then went to sleep.
Sunday
they slept in. The temperature soared, a final burst of summer, and they
took a long shower together and went to a matinee to get out of the heat.
They watched Two Guys from Milwaukee, a silly story about a European
Prince and a cab driver. They didn't recognize any of the actors, except
that Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall had cameos. The second feature,
with George Raft and Sylvia Sydney, was Mr. Ace, a movie about
dirty politics.
Monday morning Claire and John woke up anxious to finish their business in Amarillo and get back on their way to New York. John paid their room for three nights in hopes that they could check out by Wednesday. Then they went back to the First Texas State Bank and Trust to see Richard Mattingly. John asked his recommendation for a good local business attorney. Mattingly immediately recommended one Bryce Robinson, whose office was right across the street from the bank. John asked him if he would call and see if it was possible to meet with him that day.
"You're in luck," Mattingly said when he hung up. "He said for you to come right over."
As they jaywalked across the street, Claire wondered if they should call Danny and have him join them. John thought it would do no harm to go ahead and meet with Bryce Robinson. If they liked him, they could come back with Danny. Besides, they wanted to have some long-range legal protection in the event that something happened to Danny.
The building was a Spartan, pale green brick structure. On the front were encrypted the letters: "Amarillo Medical and Dental Building -- 1911." Bryce shared a second floor office with three other attorneys. The reception area was conservatively decorated, and a friendly, red haired receptionist escorted them into Bryce Robinson's office and introduced them. Bryce met them at the door to shake hands and offer them coffee. They accepted, and while the receptionist went to get it, they sat around a small conference table by corner windows. The office was comfortable and quietly elegant, with walnut furniture and a wall filled with legal books. Air conditioning buzzed somewhere.
"So, what can I do for you folks," Bryce asked genially, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. He was a nice looking man in his forties, with dark wavy hair and small, inquisitive eyes behind glasses that he kept resettling on his nose.
"Well, we need a good lawyer," John smiled.
"What's the problem?"
"No problem," said Claire. "May I ask what your background is?"
"Certainly," Bryce said, comfortably. "Let's see. My father had a general law practice here in Amarillo. I studied with him, and then in Houston at the University of Texas. I've been practicing here since 1928. Mostly corporate accounts, some private and civil law for families my father represented. Have a wife and two daughters. Just lost a son overseas. North African campaign."
"Sorry to hear that," said John.
The receptionist brought coffee on a tray.
"The War brought a lot of tragedy," said Bryce. "I fought in France myself in the first one. Lost a brother at Belleau Wood. The 'War to end wars.'" He laughed a small, derisive laugh. "What else would you like to know?"
"Tax law?" John asked.
"Sure. That's a lot of what I do. One of the partners specializes in tax law."
"We're interested in petroleum development," said John.
"Have a little experience in that, too. Studied a little on my own, have a few petroleum clients, mostly local ranchers who struck it rich. Got a saying around here: 'if you've got Herefords grazing in wheat, water running through the sprinklers, and oil coming through the derrick, you're having a good day.'"
Claire smiled. "We're in the process of purchasing twelve foreclosed properties up north of here," she said. "We have pretty good reason to believe there is oil there."
"Interesting," said Bryce.
"We're involved with a young man named Danny Leland. His family owned one of the properties. And, we've hired a man named Marcus Crawford from Oklahoma City to oversee the development. We want to form a corporation with Danny to administer the project. We're going to want the corporation to do other things as well. Pharmaceuticals, real estate, stock market speculation."
"Sounds reasonable to me," Bryce said.
"Let me just ask you a ... sort of hypothetical question," said John.
"I like 'hypotheticals,'" Bryce smiled.
"Well, you see, my wife and I aren't going to be directly involved in this. Mr. Leland will make all of the executive decisions. Let's say, 'hypothetically,' that my wife and I were, oh, let's see ... let's say we were time travelers. Let's say we had come here from a future time and wanted to make these investments and then disappear back to where we came from and have everything proceed legally and prudently in our absence over the years. What sort of safeguards or structures might you recommend in such a case?"
Bryce's eyes darted playfully. "Well, first of all, as to safeguards, I would hope that you would have a great deal of trust in this Mr. Leland!"
They smiled. "We do," said Claire.
"Of course," said Bryce politely. "However, pursuing that for just a moment, we could develop a contract between Mr. Leland and the corporation directing that he could only make decisions within certain parameters. We could also perhaps establish a secondary holding company, a trust of sorts, that would move in and assure protection of your interests in the event of any breach or abandonment on the part of Mr. Leland. In that case, our office could be entrusted with enforcement of the contract. The holding company, following any guidelines with which you had instructed it, would assume management of the corporation, replace Mr. Leland, and carry on under the guidelines you had articulated in the contract."
"What about taxes?"
"Well, you could disappear into the corporation, in a manner of speaking. All profit and dividends accrued on your original investment would simply be reinvested in the corporation, and treated as income of the corporation, and the corporation would be taxed accordingly. Stock certificates could be held and accumulated in your name, but no earnings would be shown in your name unless you sold them."
"Is this something you would be willing to handle?"
"Of course."
"The tax part too?" asked Claire. "Or will we need an accountant?"
John smiled at Claire. "You think he's a Genie?" he asked her.
She kicked him gently under the table.
"Oh," Bryce smiled, "I can take care of all of that through this office. The land acquisition and disposition too, if you like. I would be paid, as I presume would Mr. Leland, by contract with the corporation."
"How long will it take to set all this up?" asked John. "We're rather anxious to leave town."
"Going back to the future?" Bryce asked, his eyes twinkling.
"No," Claire laughed. "Just to New York. For now, at least."
"Well, there's a bit of business with the State of Texas in chartering a corporation. That will take a couple of weeks. I can have everything else done by that time, as well."
"Can you accomplish that without our being here?" Claire asked.
"Oh, sure. I'll just send all of the forms to you in New York. You can review and sign them, get them witnessed there, and send them back to me. Probably want to have another lawyer there look them over, too."
Claire and John exchanged glances.
"Let's do it," said John.
"Okay." Bryce got a legal pad from his desk. "What shall we call this corporation?"
"How about 'Walker Enterprises," John asked Claire, recalling the ruby ring that was their initial stake.
"Walker Creek Enterprises," Claire suggested.
"I like that," John smiled.
"'Walker Creek' it is," said Bryce, "so long as there isn't one in Texas already. Who is going to be the Board of Directors?"
"How about just ourselves and Mr. Leland?"
"In that case, he'll be voting proxy for you in your absence. The proxy guidelines can be spelled out in the same contract we write between him and the corporation."
"No tax liability for us in that role?"
"Not unless you claim a profit as individuals. Legal liability, yes. I recommend a lot of insurance if you're not going to be around. I recommend lots of liability insurance anyway, but particularly in this case."
"Do you write insurance, too?" Claire asked.
"No," laughed Bryce, "but I can take care of it for you."
He guided them through a variety of questions concerning information he needed in order to write the contract and define the goals of the trust. Claire and John had to describe in detail what the activities of the corporation would be besides oil development and production. They described the purchase, development, and leasing of certain specified parcels of land between St. Louis and Amarillo, and said that they would later be transferring to the corporation substantial stock investments. John also told Bryce about Frederick Neilson in St. Louis, and that he wanted a contract developed between Neilson Pharmaceuticals and Walker Creek to research and develop a new pain reliever. John told Bryce they would get the formula to him.
"Well," Bryce said when they had finished. "This will be a busy little enterprise."
"Let me pay you now," said John, "for the initial work until the contract is developed between you and the corporation."
"Okay. Let's see. I estimate about one hundred and fifty dollars for everything we've talked about. Plus I'll need a check made out to the State of Texas for twenty-five dollars for the corporation charter."
While John wrote him the checks, Claire said, "All this will safeguard us in our absence against Danny Leland and the government, but what safeguards us against you?"
Bryce smiled. "Danny Leland, of course. And the laws of the great State of Texas."
Claire smiled. They all shook hands. John told Bryce he would have Danny make an appointment to introduce himself, and asked that Bryce explain to him about all of the structures they were putting in place. He said he would also have Richard Mattingly at First Texas State Bank send over the titles on the foreclosed properties for safe keeping.
They drove to the train depot to buy new tickets to New York.
Claire and John chose to continue their train trip from Amarillo to New York on Thursday. John had counted the days and calculated that Ben, the club car bartender, and Rudy, the porter, would be on duty again that day. They requested a roomette in whatever sleeper car Rudy was working. The ticket agent said they didn't have that information, and Claire told him, in that case, to get it. He grumbled about it, but said he would try and find out the assignments from Los Angeles.
They drove by the area near the depot where they had picked up Charley and Mildred and Andrew Michaels in 1976. There were, as there had been when they were there in 1966, stock loading chutes and corrals where the hobo jungle would later be.
"Wonder where Mildred and Andrew are now," she said.
"School children, somewhere," John mused.
They met Danny for lunch at the Charlotte. He was wearing a short sleeved white dress shirt and a rose colored tie. It was the first time they had seen him not wearing a cowboy shirt, although he still wore boots and Levi's and his western style steer horn belt buckle. They told him about Bryce Robinson, explaining in general the guidelines Bryce was going to develop for them. They told him they would have the deeds to the places on his list that they had bought sent over to Bryce, and that it would probably be a good idea for Bryce to hold them for safe keeping. They asked Danny to start looking around for a home for Walker Creek Enterprises. They suggested he might want to hire a secretary, too, and maybe even a business manager and accountant. He got very excited about the prospects of that.
"Danny," said John, "I know this all seems very strange to you. I have to tell you that it's going to get a lot stranger. The reason for that is that Claire and I are going to disappear."
"I'm getting used to that already," Danny said, smiling.
"I mean for long, long periods of time. Years. You aren't going to even be able to get in touch with us."
"Why not?"
"Well, let me put it this way. This thing going on here is a big deal, I know, but it's actually just one little part of our lives. We ... lead other lives in other places. It's ... just what we do."
Danny's eyes darkened. "Is this money legal?"
"Perfectly legal," said Claire. "We're actually time travelers, Danny. We only stay in one time period for a short time, and then we're off somewhere else."
Danny stared at her. A smile crept to her lips and Danny started laughing. "All right, I get it," he said. "None of my business, right?"
"We trust you a lot," said John. "The papers that Bryce will ask you to sign are in case anything happens to you and we can't be contacted."
"That makes sense," said Danny. "And what if something happens to you?"
Claire and John looked at each other. "Nothing will happen to us," Claire said.
"Will you at least write?"
"Sure we will," Claire smiled, impulsively taking his hand across the table. "But don't worry if there's a long time in between letters."
"When are you leaving?" Danny asked, his voice breaking a bit.
"Thursday," said John. "On the train. Oh, and guess what. You get the Olds. Our first company car!"
"Wow," said Danny. "You're kidding."
"Nope," said Claire.
"Well, you guys are sure generous, I can say that."
"You can take us to the train Thursday night," said Claire. "How's that?"
"That's a deal," Danny said.
When Claire and John got back to their hotel, John's Missouri driver's license was in the mailbox, and so were Claire's photographs from the trip. They had been sent from a Kodak processing plant in Dallas. They spent the afternoon in the room going over them and organizing them around different themes. John was able to label most of them on the back as to location based on his journal notes from the trip. John was pleased with them, but Claire was very self-critical. She was especially unhappy with the earlier ones, taken while she was still getting comfortable with the equipment. She hadn't had an opportunity to experiment with the meter, and was upset about the light in most of them. John thought they were all great.
They spent most of their last days in Amarillo in the room. They won another twenty thousand at the Silver Dollar, John read and listened to the radio, and Claire worked on her journal. She took what she had written so far and all the photographs, along with all of the camera equipment except the little Kine Exacta, to Bekins Van and Storage. She had them packed in airtight containers and shipped to be stored at the Bekins in their home town in California, with instructions to send the annual storage bill to Walker Creek Enterprises in care of Bryce Robinson in Amarillo until notified otherwise.
On Wednesday evening, they had arranged to have Gus Lineweaver fly Marcus Crawford in from Oklahoma City for dinner to meet Bryce Robinson. They reserved a small banquet room at the fried chicken restaurant. They invited Gus to come, and Bryce brought his wife, Eleanor, and Danny brought Barton and Virginia Childress.
Claire and John had to tell the made-up stories of their pasts again. Claire kept embellishing, which made John nervous. "John was in communications," she told them, "when the government hired him in 1935."
"Oh, how interesting," said Eleanor Robinson.
"What sort of communications?" asked Bryce.
John put a forkful of mashed potatoes and gravy in his mouth. The things he knew about communications had mostly to do with computer technology that wouldn't be developed for forty years.
"Setting up the long distance telephone networks in California," Claire said.
The networks John set up for a living were not long distance. They were, in fact, microscopic. He had worked on the team, for example, that had developed the machine by which hospital patients could self-administer timed-release opiates following surgery. Like Claire, he was not fond of socializing, and small talk did not come easily for him even in normal circumstances. This was grueling.
"I always wondered how that worked," said Eleanor. "There has to be a lot more to it than women sitting at switchboards."
"There is," said Claire. "I lot more."
"I remember when the first long distance cable was linked coast to coast," said Bryce. "Back in '26 or '27."
"Hey, Claire," said John. "1926 was the same year you had that 'prettiest baby' contest, remember? Tell them about that. That's a great story."
She kicked him under the table and made up a story about a baby named Henrietta Lipscomb who, at three months old, in competition with seven hundred babies, won ten years of free birthday portraits at Claire's studio, and who went on, under a name Claire had forgotten, to become a singer in Glenn Miller's band. She gave John a secret "How's that?" look. Gus Lineweaver said that - speaking of Glenn Miller - he had been in Paris in 1944 on the day the band leader's plane had crashed and disappeared over the English Channel. Gus had even had plans to hear Miller's Army Air Forces Band play in Paris. He said the crash had been ascribed to pilot error, and he couldn't understand why something like that could happen to someone as wonderful as Glenn Miller, who only wanted to support our fighting boys. He looked like he might weep, and the party became melancholy, and Claire quickly asked Danny to describe his experiences in Bombay.
Both Claire and John could tell that Bryce and Eleanor Robinson had taken fondly to Danny. Danny hadn't been in North Africa, where their son was killed, but had served with men who been stationed there and was able to tell a few stories. Gus hadn't seen any duty there either, but knew one of the pilots who had landed British and American troops there in November of 1942.
In spite of the awkward moments, Claire and John felt good about the dinner. They felt that they were leaving things in good hands, especially with Marcus and Bryce, who, they were certain, would take Danny under his wing. They were sad at saying goodnight, feeling that they had assembled something of a family there on the high plains of Texas.
After dinner, outside the restaurant, Claire had them all gather so she could take some pictures with the Kine. "Among the lost relics of this earlier time," she would write in her journal, "was a willingness people had to embrace community, to come together and participate in life not around arbitrary or secondary considerations but rather out of common experience and common regard arising honestly and simply from within themselves."
The next day, they wandered the streets of Amarillo. Claire shot several rolls of film. That evening, Danny took them to the train depot, and they re-boarded the Super Chief, bound for New York.
The Inauguration
Chapter
24
Despite the request they had made when they bought their train tickets, Claire and John's roomette was in a different car than the one to which Rudy, the porter, was assigned. They complained to the conductor and were able to get it changed since the Pullman cars weren't full. Rudy was delighted to see them, but then seemed embarrassed, and even a bit distant when they told him they had planned their trip to coincide with his schedule because they liked him so much and wanted to see him again.
They slept for nearly all of the seven hundred miles that they had just twice driven and flown from Amarillo to St. Louis. They got up and dressed at nine o'clock the next morning and got to the dining car for breakfast just as the train crept crossed the Mississippi River into Illinois. They ordered honeydew melon because it had been so good the last time, fresh orange juice, and ham and scrambled eggs.
"When are we?" Claire asked groggily while they were waiting for their breakfast. "What day is it?"
"Friday the 13th," John said
"I really miss Marie. It seems like we've been gone for months."
"Thirty-two days today," said John. "I counted them up in my head last night. That includes our side trips."
"I want to call her. I want to see her."
"When we go back, it's over. Are you ready to go back?"
"Not yet. But, I've been thinking of a way."
"To see Marie? How?"
"I can go back to just before we left."
"You'll freak her out. Because then there will be two of you."
"I would have to be careful, is all. We left on Sunday. I took her to Theater Arts class on Friday morning. Her dad didn't pick her up. She took the bus to his house. He was working."
"Mmm hmm. "
"So, say I went back to Friday. Say I met her when she gets out of school and took her to lunch."
"Except she called on Saturday morning, like she always does, right? Before the Genie came. So, she calls Saturday morning and says, 'thanks for the lunch yesterday, Ma, that was way cool,' and you say 'what are you talking about?' Then, you both freak out."
"Okay. So, at lunch, I tell her that I want to play a little game and pretend like the lunch never happened."
"Hmm."
"'Look, honey,' I'll say. 'This feels sort of like breaking the rules, me coming and getting you at school on Friday. Let's play a game. Pretend this didn't happen. Just for fun. The next time I see you, we'll make believe we didn't do this.'"
"Sounds pretty crazy to me."
"Well, I think it would work. It would cover the Saturday morning phone call, at least. And the next time I see her after that, we'll be back."
"Hm. Very interesting."
"Don't say that. You sound like my therapist. Anyway, I'll think about it some more. Figure out the details. I just really miss her a lot."
"I know, Sweetie," said John. He took her hand across the table.
After breakfast, they went to the club car and sat at the bar to chat with Ben. There were thirty or so people in the car, having early cocktails, playing cards, and chatting about the big maritime strike that was still going on. There was also talk about a trucker's strike in New York. Three men came up to the bar to order drinks, and asked Ben about how it all might affect the railroads. Ben had heard talk that there were lots of problems due to freight being backed up. They were expecting switching problems in Chicago.
"We'll have prosperity undreamed of once we get these damned strikes behind us," one man said.
Ben was glad to see Claire and John. They told him that they thought Rudy was acting a little strange toward them.
"Oh, all them porter's actin' a bit strange here lately," Ben told them. "There's some literature goin' round here from the Communists tellin' the porters how they'all ought to join up. Ol' Rudy, he been upset by it. Likely he thinks you'all is Communists come to recruit him off somewhere."
When they went back to their roomette, they asked Rudy to come in so they could talk to him. He seemed suspicious, and it took some effort on Claire's part to get him to sit down in their roomette with them because, he said, it was against the rules.
"We just wanted to tell you," Claire said, "that we aren't Communists, in case you were wondering."
His body grew tense, his eyes grew large, and he blushed.
"Rudy, you have a spirit about you that is really a rare thing," John said, "and it gives us a lot of hope and pleasure just to see you smile and hear you laugh. We just happen to like you a lot, as a person, and that's the only reason we wanted to see you again. That's the truth. We don't want anything from you."
Claire smiled at him, and his big frame relaxed a bit.
"Well, you're really fine folks, all right," Rudy said, smiling. "I guess I'm glad you ain't Communists. Been gettin' all these pamphlets and such about how the Negro, he be better off with the Communists. I been a Pullman porter for fifteen years, and I ain't got no complaints. I'm afraid these Communists come around here and take away my job or something."
"Well, Rudy," said John, "they aren't going to take your job. I don't think you've got anything to worry about. But, you know, if they're telling you that you're as good as anybody else, Negro or not, you might want to listen to that part, because that's the truth."
"Well," he chuckled, "I'm as good as I can be, I reckon."
Claire smiled. "I suppose everyone is that," she said.
"I swear, never met no folks talk quite like you'all do. Where you from, anyway?"
"Long ways away," said John. "Hey, Rudy, let me give you something. A little gift." John grabbed Claire's journal and tore a page out and jotted down the specifications for a transistor, which was something he knew a lot about. On the bottom he wrote "Jonathan Banister, c/o the Waldorf, 301 Park Avenue, New York, NY." He handed the piece of paper to Rudy. "This is the design for a new device for making better radios and stuff."
"Oh, yeah?" Rudy stared at the piece of paper.
"It hasn't been invented yet. When you get home, take it to an attorney and get it patented. Drop me a note with the name and address of the attorney. I'll take care of the rest. Will you do that?"
"Well," he said, looking at the piece of paper, "I s'pect I will. Yes, sir." He pressed it against his big chest. "Thank you for this. I appreciate it. That's a fine gift, all right, yes sir."
They got into Chicago at seven that evening and said good-bye again to Rudy and Ben. As Ben had expected, there was a delay in their train to New York. They were at a standstill. Nothing was moving. The depot was tumultuous, filled with hundreds of stranded people. There was no place to sit down on any of the benches, although several men politely offered Claire their seat. After an hour wait, they got a table in the restaurant. They picked at tasteless, cardboard hamburgers. The waiter kept pressure on them to hurry up since there were so many people waiting for the table, but John kept giving him five dollar bills and he finally became embarrassed and left them alone. John read a Time magazine, and Claire, working from conversations she had overheard the past few days, made some entries in her journal.
"The days of peace were sweet," she wrote, "and the Veterans were welcome home, lots of them getting their jobs back or going to school. Despite the many strikes that divided the country, most people thought things were going well." She paused, then wrote: "Lots of workers felt the country would be better off if someone like John L. Lewis was running things."
She read what she had written and didn't like it. It sounded boring.
"I think I'll change the name," she said.
"Of what, Darling?"
"Of my book. Instead of A Retrospective, and think I'll just call it Images of the 1940s."
"Sounds good. Hey, get this, they've just discovered cholesterol."
"All ready?"
"Yep. Not only that. They've linked it to heart disease. These guys started wondering why so many young males die of heart attacks. They did biopsies and found this stuff clogging up the arteries."
"Nothing about smoking?"
"Nope. That won't dawn on them for awhile."
"Even though it's right under their noses." She sniffed. A cloud of blue smoke hung in the restaurant.
On the next page of her journal she wrote, "People seemed to feel sorry for Harry Truman, the Vice President who had just the year before inherited the Presidency from Franklin Roosevelt. There was a joke about him that he was like the man who played piano in a whorehouse for two years before he found out what went on upstairs." It was a joke she had heard in the club car. She tapped her pen against her lip and studied the huge, quiet, ungainly gas heaters hanging in the corners of the stifling hot depot restaurant. "International affairs dominated many conversations," she wrote. "People seemed both serious and regretful about the fact that it was becoming, inescapably, one world. There was a sense of confusion and anxiety. People were frightened, but of what, they weren't certain."
She paused again, frustrated. She suddenly had a vision of the crash of the C-5 Transport, thirty years later, and the deaths of Vietnamese orphans.
"The future," she wrote, "is not the consequence of history. It is rather the consequence of the shadows and uncertainties that we project upon it."
She
felt a chill, and put the journal away. She uneasily scanned the faces
in the restaurant, looking for the staring man, or for Helena Wheaton,
but saw only the faces of strangers, people she would never see again
in her life, people who would be dead even before she would see her own
daughter or her own house again.