Proud Legacy
Summary: Gary learns that the past isn't an ending, but a beginning in this continuation of "The Night Chicago Burned".
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to whomever created them. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.
Author: Tracy Diane Miller E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
I dedicate this story to my mother, Arlene Miller, my role model and champion.
Special thanks to Vickie Jo for her wonderful suggestions for this story.
Proud Legacy
For a moment, his words lingered undisturbed in the air. If silence was a blessing, then he wondered what effect the answers would have on him. Would the truth offer quiet, calm, or would such knowledge awaken more turmoil? Maybe he didn't want to know. Maybe he needed to know. Maybe it had never been his choice.
He was about to find out.
"My great-grandfather?" Jesse asked, confusion etched on his face.
"Yeah, I...um...you see...I..ah...I'm a historian. I mean, it's not my job or anything. I'm what you might call a closet historian. It's kinda like a hobby, a fascination of mine, you see. You mentioned yesterday about how your pocket watch belonged to your great-grandfather and was given to him by the stranger who saved his life in the Great Fire. I'm just curious about learning more." Gary explained.
A brief silence.
"It was just a story passed down in my family. I'm not even sure how much of it is true. You know how it is with family stories." Jesse said.
"I'd still like to hear it. Please?"
Jesse studied Gary intently for a moment. Something about this request seemed odd to the younger man. There was urgency in Gary's voice. But Jesse also saw something else, a desperate gleam dancing fitfully in those mud green eyes. Still, what harm could there be in sharing a small piece of his family's history with this man?
"Why don't you come upstairs to my office? We'll have more privacy to talk there." Jesse suggested.
Gary nodded. The men crossed through the lobby and headed towards the elevators. As a familiar bell and the door to the contrivance opened signaling the arrival of one of the cars, Gary and Jesse entered the elevator. As the car began to rise, Gary felt a slight pang in his gut. The hero's stomach churned violently, the byproduct of nervousness and anticipation seemingly engaged in a restless waltz inside his body. Why couldn't he just dismiss what had happened yesterday as a dream? He had suffered a blow and had been rendered unconscious at that construction site. The tragedy that the Paper had predicted was of the same magnitude as the Chicago Fire with the potential for countless loss of life. It wasn't inconceivable that his brain would have cast him as a player in this historical tale of doom with the images and sounds so frighteningly real that he believed that he had actually lived through them. But there was no such thing as time travel. The past was but a wrinkle of a memory in the crease of time ironed out as the present took control; yet, this memory belonged to a generation of souls that had already departed the Earth, their lives and stories carefully preserved in the annals of history. It wasn't his memory...it couldn't have been.
No one else was in the elevator at the moment as Jesse pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. The elevator appeared to stop on every other floor to usher in or out a cargo of frenzied people rushing to the business of their professional lives. The slow, but deliberate movement of the elevator, like a steady and determined rhythm of a heartbeat, only served to heighten Gary's anticipation and nervousness. His own heart was pounding now. A part of him wanted answers. He was certain that the Paper had brought him to this place today for more than just a save. The Paper had brought him here for answers
Yet, there was another part of him that wondered whether he was about to open up his own Pandora's box and unleash a fury of new questions without answers. He'd had enough of them dealing with a magical newspaper whose origins remained a mystery. What did he expect to learn from Jesse Mayfield IV? Or, more importantly, what would be the consequences of such knowledge?
The hero's internal struggle was interrupted by the sound of the bell heralding the elevator's arrival at their destination. The moment Gary stepped off the elevator his eyes spied the reception area with a sign in golden lettering with the name "Mayfield Construction" blazing on the wall above the receptionist's desk. Gary followed Jesse the short walk through the reception area and another door that connected to the interior offices. A spacious office nestled a few feet from the reception area boasted a sign on the door that read "J. Mayfield, President". Jesse walked into the office with Gary in tow.
The office possessed a quiet elegance. The wooden-paneled walls were overflowing with degrees, pictures, and letters of commendation. A Bachelor of Science Degree in Engineering (Magna Cum Laude) was joined by an MBA from the Wharton School of Business. The numerous letters of commendation from civic organizations were surrounded by pictures that Jesse had taken with the local business and political elite. A large, black leather chair was behind the desk. Facing the desk were two smaller, black leather chairs. The desk appeared to be of solid oak, a handsome piece of furniture that looked both sturdy and formidable. Situated on the desk, in silver- plated frames were photos of Jesse's greatest "treasures"- his wife and daughter. Another photo of Arlene Mayfield showed the ten-year-old girl decked out in her equestrian splendor while seated on a chestnut gelding.
"My family". Jesse confirmed when he saw Gary staring at the pictures.
"You have a beautiful family. You're a very lucky man." Gary said sincerely.
Jesse smiled. "Yes, I know. Thank you."
A brief silence.
"My secretary hasn't arrived yet. May I offer you something? Coffee?"
"No, thanks."
Jesse proceeded towards his desk and sat down in his chair. "Please, have a seat."
Gary sat on one of the chairs facing the desk. "So, Mr. Hobson, are you going to tell me your secret?"
A look of sheer panic crossed Gary's face. "Howzat?"
"Your secret. Mr. Fishman told me that you said that Trotter had the wrong geological surveys. If construction had continued...if that pylon had been dropped and with the combination of the heavy rains and probable flooding, well, I don't even want to think about what could have happened if Mr. Fishman hadn't notified me. Your friend is quite a persuasive man. I'm just curious as to how you knew."
Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Well...I...ah...I run a bar, McGinty's, on Illinois and...ah...anyway, a couple of guys came in and they were talking and I kinda figured out from what they were saying that there was a problem." Gary explained. Gary prayed that his explanation sounded plausible.
Jesse studied Gary for a moment. "Well, I owe you a debt of gratitude. I'm a businessman, Mr. Hobson. I want to make a profit, but not at the expense of the safety of the people of Chicago. Trotter knows his work, but this isn't the first time that I've butted heads with him. I think that sometimes he forgets that he works for me and not the other way around."
Gary heard a familiar chime as Jesse removed the pocket watch from his breast pocket. "It's a very nice watch." Gary said.
"My father gave it to me when I graduated from high school. Said that it had been passed down in our family. That it was special...it had a special history."
"Because your great-grandfather received it from the stranger who saved his life the night of the Great Fire?" Gary probed.
"Yes. I always thought that it was just a story I was told since I was a little boy. Whenever I complained about doing my homework, my mother would tell me that I should be ashamed of myself. She'd say that I was lucky that I could have an education. Then, she'd tell me about how my great- grandfather was born into slavery, learned how to read in a time when it was dangerous for black people to have that kind of knowledge, and ended up going to college. Daddy would show me the watch and tell me the story of my ancestors. Jesse and his sister Eleanor were from South Carolina. There had been four Mayfield children but their older brothers had been sold to another family and they were never seen again. Somehow, Jesse and Eleanor managed to stay together. After the Civil War, they left Charleston and moved to Chicago. Too many blacks down South were sharecroppers and I guess Eleanor wanted a better life for them. I guess that she figured that Jesse was smart, that he could be somebody, that he could have a real future. And my grandfather told me that people said that Eleanor had a voice that was...that came directly from God. It was so powerful, made you feel something. She had the talent to be a great singer."
Gary listened attentively.
"Anyway, life in Chicago wasn't much easier for them than Charleston had been. They took whatever jobs they could to survive. I guess that it was easy to get discouraged. Then, the Great Fire happened...and you know, what's funny, my grandfather said that that tragedy ended up being a blessing him and Eleanor. The stranger who saved Jesse's life believed in him and that made him believe in himself. After they left Chicago, they ended up in New York. Years later, Jesse went to Howard University and became an engineer. He and my grandfather founded this company. I guess he never forgot almost dying in that fire and he wanted to give something back."
"And Eleanor? What happened to her?"
"She never made it as a singer in this country. She moved to Europe when Jesse was in college. I'm not sure what happened to her after that. I don't know if Jesse ever saw her again."
For the next few moments, Gary continued listening as Jesse relayed more of his family's history. And the hero understood. The Paper had somehow sent him into the past, but not to change the history that was inscribed in the books, but to save the life and give hope to an industrious young boy who was but an inconsequential footnote.
Except he wasn't. Jesse Mayfield had left a proud legacy.
The End.
Summary: Gary learns that the past isn't an ending, but a beginning in this continuation of "The Night Chicago Burned".
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to whomever created them. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.
Author: Tracy Diane Miller E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
I dedicate this story to my mother, Arlene Miller, my role model and champion.
Special thanks to Vickie Jo for her wonderful suggestions for this story.
Proud Legacy
For a moment, his words lingered undisturbed in the air. If silence was a blessing, then he wondered what effect the answers would have on him. Would the truth offer quiet, calm, or would such knowledge awaken more turmoil? Maybe he didn't want to know. Maybe he needed to know. Maybe it had never been his choice.
He was about to find out.
"My great-grandfather?" Jesse asked, confusion etched on his face.
"Yeah, I...um...you see...I..ah...I'm a historian. I mean, it's not my job or anything. I'm what you might call a closet historian. It's kinda like a hobby, a fascination of mine, you see. You mentioned yesterday about how your pocket watch belonged to your great-grandfather and was given to him by the stranger who saved his life in the Great Fire. I'm just curious about learning more." Gary explained.
A brief silence.
"It was just a story passed down in my family. I'm not even sure how much of it is true. You know how it is with family stories." Jesse said.
"I'd still like to hear it. Please?"
Jesse studied Gary intently for a moment. Something about this request seemed odd to the younger man. There was urgency in Gary's voice. But Jesse also saw something else, a desperate gleam dancing fitfully in those mud green eyes. Still, what harm could there be in sharing a small piece of his family's history with this man?
"Why don't you come upstairs to my office? We'll have more privacy to talk there." Jesse suggested.
Gary nodded. The men crossed through the lobby and headed towards the elevators. As a familiar bell and the door to the contrivance opened signaling the arrival of one of the cars, Gary and Jesse entered the elevator. As the car began to rise, Gary felt a slight pang in his gut. The hero's stomach churned violently, the byproduct of nervousness and anticipation seemingly engaged in a restless waltz inside his body. Why couldn't he just dismiss what had happened yesterday as a dream? He had suffered a blow and had been rendered unconscious at that construction site. The tragedy that the Paper had predicted was of the same magnitude as the Chicago Fire with the potential for countless loss of life. It wasn't inconceivable that his brain would have cast him as a player in this historical tale of doom with the images and sounds so frighteningly real that he believed that he had actually lived through them. But there was no such thing as time travel. The past was but a wrinkle of a memory in the crease of time ironed out as the present took control; yet, this memory belonged to a generation of souls that had already departed the Earth, their lives and stories carefully preserved in the annals of history. It wasn't his memory...it couldn't have been.
No one else was in the elevator at the moment as Jesse pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. The elevator appeared to stop on every other floor to usher in or out a cargo of frenzied people rushing to the business of their professional lives. The slow, but deliberate movement of the elevator, like a steady and determined rhythm of a heartbeat, only served to heighten Gary's anticipation and nervousness. His own heart was pounding now. A part of him wanted answers. He was certain that the Paper had brought him to this place today for more than just a save. The Paper had brought him here for answers
Yet, there was another part of him that wondered whether he was about to open up his own Pandora's box and unleash a fury of new questions without answers. He'd had enough of them dealing with a magical newspaper whose origins remained a mystery. What did he expect to learn from Jesse Mayfield IV? Or, more importantly, what would be the consequences of such knowledge?
The hero's internal struggle was interrupted by the sound of the bell heralding the elevator's arrival at their destination. The moment Gary stepped off the elevator his eyes spied the reception area with a sign in golden lettering with the name "Mayfield Construction" blazing on the wall above the receptionist's desk. Gary followed Jesse the short walk through the reception area and another door that connected to the interior offices. A spacious office nestled a few feet from the reception area boasted a sign on the door that read "J. Mayfield, President". Jesse walked into the office with Gary in tow.
The office possessed a quiet elegance. The wooden-paneled walls were overflowing with degrees, pictures, and letters of commendation. A Bachelor of Science Degree in Engineering (Magna Cum Laude) was joined by an MBA from the Wharton School of Business. The numerous letters of commendation from civic organizations were surrounded by pictures that Jesse had taken with the local business and political elite. A large, black leather chair was behind the desk. Facing the desk were two smaller, black leather chairs. The desk appeared to be of solid oak, a handsome piece of furniture that looked both sturdy and formidable. Situated on the desk, in silver- plated frames were photos of Jesse's greatest "treasures"- his wife and daughter. Another photo of Arlene Mayfield showed the ten-year-old girl decked out in her equestrian splendor while seated on a chestnut gelding.
"My family". Jesse confirmed when he saw Gary staring at the pictures.
"You have a beautiful family. You're a very lucky man." Gary said sincerely.
Jesse smiled. "Yes, I know. Thank you."
A brief silence.
"My secretary hasn't arrived yet. May I offer you something? Coffee?"
"No, thanks."
Jesse proceeded towards his desk and sat down in his chair. "Please, have a seat."
Gary sat on one of the chairs facing the desk. "So, Mr. Hobson, are you going to tell me your secret?"
A look of sheer panic crossed Gary's face. "Howzat?"
"Your secret. Mr. Fishman told me that you said that Trotter had the wrong geological surveys. If construction had continued...if that pylon had been dropped and with the combination of the heavy rains and probable flooding, well, I don't even want to think about what could have happened if Mr. Fishman hadn't notified me. Your friend is quite a persuasive man. I'm just curious as to how you knew."
Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "Well...I...ah...I run a bar, McGinty's, on Illinois and...ah...anyway, a couple of guys came in and they were talking and I kinda figured out from what they were saying that there was a problem." Gary explained. Gary prayed that his explanation sounded plausible.
Jesse studied Gary for a moment. "Well, I owe you a debt of gratitude. I'm a businessman, Mr. Hobson. I want to make a profit, but not at the expense of the safety of the people of Chicago. Trotter knows his work, but this isn't the first time that I've butted heads with him. I think that sometimes he forgets that he works for me and not the other way around."
Gary heard a familiar chime as Jesse removed the pocket watch from his breast pocket. "It's a very nice watch." Gary said.
"My father gave it to me when I graduated from high school. Said that it had been passed down in our family. That it was special...it had a special history."
"Because your great-grandfather received it from the stranger who saved his life the night of the Great Fire?" Gary probed.
"Yes. I always thought that it was just a story I was told since I was a little boy. Whenever I complained about doing my homework, my mother would tell me that I should be ashamed of myself. She'd say that I was lucky that I could have an education. Then, she'd tell me about how my great- grandfather was born into slavery, learned how to read in a time when it was dangerous for black people to have that kind of knowledge, and ended up going to college. Daddy would show me the watch and tell me the story of my ancestors. Jesse and his sister Eleanor were from South Carolina. There had been four Mayfield children but their older brothers had been sold to another family and they were never seen again. Somehow, Jesse and Eleanor managed to stay together. After the Civil War, they left Charleston and moved to Chicago. Too many blacks down South were sharecroppers and I guess Eleanor wanted a better life for them. I guess that she figured that Jesse was smart, that he could be somebody, that he could have a real future. And my grandfather told me that people said that Eleanor had a voice that was...that came directly from God. It was so powerful, made you feel something. She had the talent to be a great singer."
Gary listened attentively.
"Anyway, life in Chicago wasn't much easier for them than Charleston had been. They took whatever jobs they could to survive. I guess that it was easy to get discouraged. Then, the Great Fire happened...and you know, what's funny, my grandfather said that that tragedy ended up being a blessing him and Eleanor. The stranger who saved Jesse's life believed in him and that made him believe in himself. After they left Chicago, they ended up in New York. Years later, Jesse went to Howard University and became an engineer. He and my grandfather founded this company. I guess he never forgot almost dying in that fire and he wanted to give something back."
"And Eleanor? What happened to her?"
"She never made it as a singer in this country. She moved to Europe when Jesse was in college. I'm not sure what happened to her after that. I don't know if Jesse ever saw her again."
For the next few moments, Gary continued listening as Jesse relayed more of his family's history. And the hero understood. The Paper had somehow sent him into the past, but not to change the history that was inscribed in the books, but to save the life and give hope to an industrious young boy who was but an inconsequential footnote.
Except he wasn't. Jesse Mayfield had left a proud legacy.
The End.