The Time Travelers' Club: Chapter 12 -- To the Edge

After supper, Sam worked on his report.  Sitting at the kitchen table, he used his mom's laptop to type some notes from the library books.  He wished they had the Internet at home but Emily had decided against it, afraid Sam would spend too much time web surfing.  Besides, it was free at the library.  Sam wished he had looked through more of the books, but then he got two ideas.

 "Mom, I'm going down to see Mrs. Steers," said Sam.   His mom was putting away the last of the dishes from dinner.

"Why?" Emily asked.

"She has a lot of books.  Maybe she has some about my topic," he replied.  His second motive was to see if she would mention the newspaper if he talked about Jack the Ripper. What a prop for his class presentation!

Sam daydreamed for a moment…

Sam stood before his history class ready to speak.

"Please go ahead," said Mr. Martin.

"For my presentation, I chose Jack the Ripper, the famous serial killer.  And here, in this box, is a clue to his identity."   Sam opened the box and a bloody human kidney rolled onto the floor. Students screamed and raced out the door.

"Hmmm… that's strange.  Where did that come from?"

Sam snapped out of his daydream with the sound of his mom's voice. "Sam?  Did you hear me?  Don't bother her if she's busy."

"Okay, I promise."  He dashed downstairs.  After ringing her doorbell and waiting, Mrs. Steers finally opened the door.

"Hello, Sam."  Mrs. Steers greeted him in a cheerful voice.  "Come in.  I was getting ready to cut the sugar cream pie I made this morning. Would you like a piece?"

Sam's mouth watered from the smell of the pie.  He loved sugar cream pie.  Following her to the dining room, the sweet aroma of the pie lingered.  He saw it on the dining table, as well as two plates, two forks, and two glasses as if she were expecting him.  The rich creamy pie tasted like the ones his Grandma Henry made.

Before sitting down, Mrs. Steers picked up the red Christmas box from the sideboard and placed it next to him.  "Oh and here's this. The newspaper.  I left it in the box for safe keeping.  I hope your classmates won't take it too seriously.  How would you explain it?  Who would ever believe you had a real finger print from Jack the Ripper?"

Sam stopped chewing on the last bit of pie and stared at her.  He sat back in his chair, still holding his plate and fork in hand.

"Mrs. Steers!  How did you know I wanted to ask you about borrowing the newspaper?"  His stomach started churning and he became little light-headed.    He started to shake.

Sam was having a panic attack, something that happened when he became overanxious, extremely uncomfortable, or scared.  Sam dropped the plate and fork onto the carpet.  He grabbed the edge of the table trying to get up from the chair.  The room began spinning and went dark.  For the first time, he fully passed out, falling to the dining room floor.

Sometime later, Sam awoke on the red overstuffed couch in the front parlor.   Mrs. Steers was draping a cool, damp washcloth across his forehead.

"You gave me quite a fright." Mrs. Steers leaned over Sam.

 "What happened?  Where am I?"  Groggy, Sam looked up at her.

"You passed out.  I had to drag you to the couch from the dining room."

"You did?" said Sam. “I’ve never passed out before.”

"Does this happen often?" inquired Mrs. Steers.  "I didn't want to bother your mother.  You have one more thing in common with Albert.   You have panic attacks.  He did the exact same thing, only he never passed out.”

"Really?  The last I remember… was something greenish…"

"Lie still for a moment.  Let me get you some water."  Mrs. Steers reached for a glass and a pitcher of water on the side table.  She poured some water for them both.

"Take a few sips.  You need to rest for a few moments.  In the meantime, let me tell you about one of Albert's mysterious travels. Even though I know you don't believe me, please indulge me for a few moments."

Sam rolled his eyes.  Mrs. Steers retrieved a small silver cardboard box from a writing desk across the room.

"Let me see. This was about twenty-five years ago, maybe late January… hmmm… lots of snow that year.  Albert and I were snowbound for a couple of days.  We didn't mind.  By that time, we had been living here about a year and were still unpacking his books.   Albert had so many books."  Sam glanced up at the packed bookcases on each side of the fireplace.

"We worked for days arranging them.  One day, I got tired of opening boxes of books and decided to go to my sewing room.  I was working on a new quilt for one of the guest bedrooms.   I had never made a quilt before.   What a challenge that was!  I had bought a new sewing machine and a quilt kit with the material already pre-cut.  The instructions said all I had to do was sew it together…  Humph, that's another story!

Anyway, Albert was taking a break and was reading something about Queen Victoria, her family, her reign, and something else… The next thing I knew in walked Albert, bouncing like a kid, into my sewing room.

"Lottie, I've decided to travel back to London for Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee in 1887.   Want to come?"

I was so frustrated by that damn quilt… Oh pardon me…  I mean that darn quilt… and was trying to get a seam to line up or something…  I muttered "Oh go see that darned old Queen."   I wasn't nice… It wasn't the Queen's or Albert's fault… I was furious with that easy-to-piece-together quilt!

Albert went back downstairs to the back parlor and took off, so to speak.  He had moved his high back chair and table down from the attic.  About fifteen minutes later, Albert came running back into my sewing room.  At first, he stood there and looked at me.  Exhausted and sweaty.   Albert wasn't the same after that trip.   Each time, we traveled somewhere, it was as if he had some sort of mission..." She stopped mid-sentence and squinted her eyes, as if pondering her last statement.

"Anyway, that trip to London had been different somehow.   He babbled on for a little while.  I remember thinking maybe he wasn't feeling well.  He kept going on about someone named Graff, some Irishmen, and dynamite.

I said "Albert, maybe we had better stop this time-traveling. This last trip has upset you.  He said it was nothing, trying to reassure me.  But then, his tone changed.  "Lottie, I have something to show you." He held out his hand and in it was this."

Mrs. Steers removed the lid from the box.  Inside, on a piece of fluffy off-white padding laid a silver broach with what looked to be diamonds around the edge and a prominent red stone in the middle.  Sam had never seen such a piece of jewelry.

"What is that?" asked Sam, puzzled by it.

"Part of an intriguing mystery," said Mrs. Steers staring into Sam's eyes.  “You like mysteries, Sam."  Sam grinned at her mention of the word 'mystery.'

"Yeah." replied Sam softly.  "I love 'em."

"Albert actually picked up this silver broach and brought it back with him." said Mrs. Steers.

"But how did he..." said Sam.

"Let me ramble for another moment.  Albert was so exhausted after that trip that he took an afternoon nap.   He hadn't napped before in the afternoon.   But eventually, he told me all about it.   Seeing London, celebrating Queen Victoria's fifty years of being… well, the Queen."

Mrs. Steers drifted back to that day and told Sam yet another tale.

"Albert hung out with Queen the whole day and well into the next.  Let me think…"  Mrs. Steers retrieved a book from the shelves in order to check her dates.  "Ah yes, it would have been June 20th … definitely 1887.  My mind!  I can remember the stories but never the dates.   I've been to so many places."  She returned the book to its place on the shelf.

"Albert watched the Queen at Buckingham Palace, and later that evening she had a large dinner with her family. Albert enjoyed watching the whole affair.

Later, he saw the Queen in her carriage riding through London.  A little short and stout but having a presence that made her outshine all around her.  This was a momentous day in history, not just for the Queen, but for my Albert.  It was on that day that Albert saw someone looking at him."

"You mean looking through him?" said Sam.  "He wasn't actually there for anyone to see. Right?"

"That's right.  He wasn't there," said Mrs. Steers. "But across the street stood a mysterious fellow looking right at him. Albert said it startled him at first, but then he realized the stranger must have been looking at something else behind him.  So, Albert started walking down the street, but the man appeared to follow him.  After a few steps, Albert got scared and began to run.   He wasn't sure what to do.

Soon, the man shouted at Albert to stop.  "Stop! Namvelt. You have Namvelt's  book."   That got Albert's attention so he stopped and the man caught up with him, stopping a few feet away.

"Please… I can see you. You are not of this time.  I've been following you for a while. I didn't want to scare you."

Albert panted from running.  "Yes, I have Namvelt's book, but how did you know? Who are you?"

"I know you received it from Rupert Jameson in London several years ago. I am Xavier Graff.   I want to talk to you."

That has to be the same Xavier who visited Mrs. Steers earlier? Sam thought to himself as he sat up catching the wet wash cloth as it fell from his forehead.

"From then on, Albert would sometimes bring something back with him," said Mrs. Steers.  "We picked up many common items like a pencil or a glass, but also many interesting and unusual pieces as well.  I always numbered them and kept a list of them."  Sam remembered the #39 on the note with the newspaper.  That explained at least one thing.

"After that trip to the Golden Jubilee, Albert started getting odd telephone calls.  I overheard one of Albert's conversations.  Something about time shifting… getting the books… grabbing things…  And then strangers I didn't know showed up and asked to see him.  Albert would meet them on the porch, then go sit in the park.

I began to suspect Albert was involved in something more than just time travel. I'm not sure if he had told someone else about our trips.   I also wondered if he was selling what he brought back, but everything was always accounted for."

This story is getting weirder and weirder, Sam thought.  And what about this Xavier Graff?  The guy I saw was young.

Sam took his opportunity.  "Who is Xavier Graff?  He must be really old."

"Xavier was a fellow time-traveler.  He passed away a few years ago.  He had a son, but I don't see him much anymore, but his grandson stops by to visit."

Ah-ha, now we are getting somewhere, Sam thought.  But that didn't explain the conversation he heard.  I can't mention it.  She might get mad about my eavesdropping.

The mantel clock chimed five times.  "Is it five?  My mom's going to be mad at me for taking up your time.  And I have homework to do."  Sam raced towards the front door.

"Sam," said Mrs. Steers.  "I know you don't believe me.  I hope we can talk about it again soon.  Oh, and don't forget the newspaper."   She smiled and handed him the box.  Sam took it, thanked her, and let the screen door slam behind him.