Journey, The (19 page)

"I can barely hear myself think," she said.

"It'll get better. If not, try these," Robert Land said. He pulled a couple of foam earplugs from a pocket and placed them in her hand. "They do wonders."

They had not needed earplugs the previous Saturday, when they had chaperoned a dance together for the first time. A disc jockey had provided the music for that event, which had followed Unionville's basketball victory over Columbia River, and his selections, even his disco selections, had been much easier on the ears.

Michelle put the plugs in her ears, smiled, and glanced toward an open door, where dozens of students, including some from a fundraiser across the hall, spilled into the cafeteria. She saw a lot of people she expected to see and some she didn't. She also saw pairings that would probably spell trouble before the end of the evening, including Nick Bender and Shelly Preston. Whether they had come as friends or as a couple remained to be seen.

Michelle was more surprised and alarmed to see April Burke hitting on Tony Bronson. She had feared the sight for months and had often pondered ways to keep them apart. Tony wasn't a bad kid. For the most part, he was a good kid. But he liked to drink and drive and he liked to drink and drive with dates in his car. Michelle vowed that if she did nothing else in April's senior year of high school, she would keep her out of the car that killed her.

As the band began its third song of the night, a slow song, Michelle noticed a few refreshing differences between 2010 and 1980. At Woodland Hills High School in suburban Bellevue, where she had worked as an English instructor and occasionally supervised after-school events, students danced to hip hop and ground their bodies together like extras in
Dirty Dancing
. At Unionville High School in rural eastern Oregon, they danced to disco as individuals and ballads with arms over necks and bodies more suitably spaced. Rock songs were free-for-alls.

Michelle noticed another difference as well. On January 19, 1980, Robert Land had not had a fiancée at his side, much less one who bore a striking resemblance to Shelly Preston and her mother. She wondered again what kind of ripples she was leaving in her wake. She felt good about the role she had played in the lives of the several people and refused to believe she had negatively impacted anyone. Yet she knew she was something that had not been here before, a new piece to a puzzle that had already been constructed once.

Michelle glanced at Robert and smiled. He had blindsided her fifty ways to Wednesday on Christmas Eve. She knew that he had wanted to marry again and had figured on a proposal by the end of the year, but she had thought that year would be the school year and not 1979.

Robert's rush to put a ring on her finger, however, had not been followed by a quick trip to the altar. He wanted a longer engagement, even if that meant putting off something most men could not do without. They settled on Saturday, April 12, a date sandwiched between Karen and Susan's birthdays and one that accommodated their schedules. Robert didn't want anything large or fancy, but he did want his daughters to be a part of the day. So April 12 it was.

Teachers and staff at UHS had reacted to the news of the engagement with surprise and cheer. Some who had known Linda Land reacted with hugs and tears. They had seen her illness wear down Robert and were ecstatic that he had been able to move on with his life so swiftly and satisfactorily. Wayne Dennison had offered the happy couple use of his Wallowa Lake summer home as a wedding present, an offer Robert gladly accepted. Marsha Zimmerman had offered her services as a wedding singer, an offer Robert politely declined.

Michelle thought happy thoughts as she pondered her new life. She imagined a honeymoon in Hawaii and cooking classes over the summer. She thought of a dozen ways she could revitalize Linda's garden as a tribute to the woman she had replaced. But most of all, she thought about how happy she would be as the wife of Robert Land and how distant
any
happiness had seemed when she had stood at the foot of Scott Richardson's grave or had emerged from the A.F. Pennington mansion frightened and confused. Her future was astonishingly bright.

The blissful moment ended all too soon. When Michelle turned to face the dance floor, she saw Scott, Shelly, and Nick in a heated conversation. Shelly and Nick had apparently not come as a couple, or at least a couple officially authorized by Unionville High School's Science Club president. Michelle couldn't make out a word, but she saw enough body language to know that Scott was pissed, Shelly was distressed, and Nick was increasingly impatient.

A few seconds later, Nick gave Shelly a half-hearted salute, flipped off Scott, and walked through a dozen or so people to the exit. Shelly stared at Scott with folded arms. Scott repeatedly shook his head and turned away. Had he turned in different directions, he would have seen Brian Johnson return a white-hot glare and April Burke with her hands on her mouth.

Trouble had come to paradise.

CHAPTER 34: SHELLY

Monday, January 21, 1980

"It's all my fault. I never should have agreed to dance," Shelly said.

She spoke to April but looked at the snow-covered sidewalk ahead as the two proceeded eastward on Tenth Avenue toward the intersection with Monroe. Shelly had requested a long walk with her best friend because she knew a long walk with her best friend was an ideal way to clear her head.

"I should have just stayed in the music room and waited for Scott."

"That wouldn't have solved anything either."

"What do you mean? You think I should have left with Nick?"

"No, Shelly," April said with a firm voice. "I don't think you should have left with Nick. You know exactly where I stand on Nick. I think he's bad news. I've told you that several times. But I'm not so sure that Scott is good news. You're never happy when you're together."

"That's not entirely true. We get along fine when it's just the two of us. But throw other people into the mix and he goes nuts. It shouldn't be that way. I should be able to talk and dance with other guys without worrying what he will say or do. Scott doesn't own me. No one does."

Shelly tried to purge her mind of unpleasant memories of Saturday night but couldn't. They were still too vivid and fresh. Nick's one dance had quickly turned into three and the third one, to a slow song, had sent Scott through the roof. He had entered the cafeteria just as Nick had put his arms around her waist and tried to get up close and personal. Relations with Scott had not improved with Nick's departure either. They had managed just one dance and a few terse words before Shelly had decided to go home. She had left alone, stopping only to say goodbye to April and Brian on the way out.

"I don't know what to tell you," April said. She tightened her grip on a plastic bag that contained an album she had purchased at a record store. "It seems that most guys are that way. If they're not selfish and possessive, they're just plain boring. I'm still trying to find a guy who is nice
and
interesting."

"What about Tony? You two got pretty cozy at the dance."

"He's interesting, all right. I'm just not sure about the nice part."

"What do you mean?" Shelly asked.

"He wanted to fool around in his car in the parking lot. We hadn't even danced three times and he wanted to leave. Whatever happened to foreplay?"

Shelly laughed.

"I warned you about him." She wagged her finger. "I did."

April sighed.

"I know you did. He's definitely a player. But he's also the only guy who's shown any interest in me lately. Maybe we both need to start dating college guys."

"No, thanks. They're trouble too. Just ask Sandy Pearson."

April didn't ask for clarification. Shelly knew she didn't have to. The plight of Sandra Pearson was common knowledge at the high school. She was three months pregnant with the child of a sophomore at Unionville Community College. Sandy hadn't been free of her longtime boyfriend for even a week when she had hooked up with the college point guard and turned her senior year upside down. She planned to graduate and then put the baby up for adoption. The basketball player had demonstrated no interest in marriage or fatherhood.

"Then maybe we should go in the other direction," April said.

A smile returned to her face.

"Elaborate, please."

"Well, if we are both fed up with boys, perhaps we should swear off of them for the rest of the year. Maybe we can dedicate ourselves to purity and chastity and serve as role models for the cheerleaders and the dance team!"

Shelly laughed.

"Don't get carried away, April. I'm not
that
distraught."

In fact, April's flippant suggestion made a lot of sense. Scott
was
an unnecessary complication. Though he had called on Sunday to apologize for his boorish behavior, Shelly considered his apology just another bandage on a relationship that probably had too many wounds to survive. She had told him that she had wanted a week to herself to think about their future. Apparently realizing that he had no choice in the matter, he gave it to her.

When they approached the Preston residence, Shelly peered into the distance and noticed a mailman go from house to house on Tenth. He had already covered her block and was now trudging through the snow on the east side of Monroe. She didn't envy people who had to do the same old thing day after day. She vowed that whatever she chose for a vocation, it would be something that offered variety. She needed variety in her life. She needed choices.

"Do you want a ride home?" Shelly asked.

"Yeah, I think I do. My legs are fine, but my fingers are getting numb."

"OK. Take these and go warm up the car," Shelly said as she handed April the keys to her Volkswagen. "I'll be there in a minute. I want to check the mail."

Shelly watched April walk up the driveway, enter the Beetle, and start the ignition before heading toward the front steps of her house. When she reached the door, she stuck a hand in the wall-mounted mailbox and retrieved three envelopes. The first contained a utility bill, the second a letter from Grandma Preston. But it was the third that brought her heart to a standstill.

She opened the envelope from Yale University and pulled out a single sheet of paper folded in thirds. She needed only fifteen seconds to get to the gist of the letter, drop the envelope, and scream.

CHAPTER 35: MICHELLE

Saturday, January 26, 1980

Michelle returned her aunt's birth certificate to its rightful place without notice and with only a little guilt. As far as she could tell, no one had reported the certificate missing and no one had requested the folder on one of Unionville's most famous daughters. When Michelle handed the cobra in glasses the complete and restored file on Michelle Jennings, she considered the matter closed. Any sanction for her unauthorized loan would have to come from God and not the Eastern Oregon Historical Society.

The new Michelle Jennings could have walked out the door and never given the place a second thought, but she didn't. Her business at the archive had just begun and no sooner than she returned the folder on her legendary aunt she requested one on a legendary house. Michelle took the file on the A.F. Pennington mansion to a far table, pulled a pen and notepad from her purse, and tried to unravel a mystery.

Because her transition to the past had been remarkably pleasant and painless, at least after her remarkably unpleasant and painful first week, Michelle had given little thought to the house on the hill, the Franklins, or the possibility she might someday be able to return to her time. She had a new life now and planned to make the best of it but not before resolving questions that still tugged the corners of her mind.

She opened the Pennington file and went through dozens of newspaper articles, photos, and documents. Most items pertained to the lumber baron and his descendants and most of the rest to the house's second and third owners. This made perfect sense. The Franklins were not ancient history but relatively recent news. Two
Unionville Gazette
articles from January 13, 1980, reminded Michelle that the family, in her present world, had been gone only nine months.

The articles were little more than a rehash of widely reported facts, particulars that the time traveler knew well. The Franklins had disappeared without a trace on April 13, 1979, and had not been heard from since. Despite the best efforts of several law enforcement agencies and dozens of amateur sleuths, the disappearances remained unexplained. The case on the young family had grown as cold as the winter air outside the building.

It wasn't long, however, before Michelle found some common threads. The Franklins had not been the only other occupants of the mansion to go missing. A.F. Pennington's first housekeeper had disappeared in 1886, as had his 21-year-old grandson in 1917 and a nanny in 1948. Foul play had been suspected in two of the cases, but no charges had been filed. Charges generally required bodies and no bodies had ever been found. All of the adults, including Michelle, had vanished after returning to Unionville following long absences. Their homecomings had been brief.

It seemed inconceivable that the disappearances were connected. They certainly could not have been the work of one person. Even Jack the Ripper had a shelf life.

Then the woman who had always had trouble with numbers ran the numbers – 1886, 1917, 1948, 1979, and 2010 – and discovered that each new incident had occurred thirty-one years after the last. Selected news articles revealed something else. Each disappearance had happened on a Friday the 13th. Michelle closed her eyes and sighed. The house's address, 313 East Riverside Drive, contained the number 31 as well as 13. Could the Pennington mansion be nothing more than a haunted house that acted out every three decades on unlucky days?

Michelle examined the articles again but found more information than answers. The first disappearance, on August 13, 1886, had occurred just six years after the house's construction. Sarah Wellington had gone missing while watching the residence for her vacationing employers. Police had suspected that a railroad worker named Tyler Black had killed her after she had refused his offer of marriage, but they could not prove what many had believed.