Thursday, December 10, 1981

The flickering TV screen cast odd blue shadows at the foot of the bed. A gold beam of light fell across Al's shoulder from the lamp on the nightstand as he pored over an engineering textbook. He'd been obsessed with perfecting his knowledge for weeks now. I knew the pressure of Starbright had been building on him for the last two months as meetings and plans gave way to reality. Every position in the project had been filled, with a few exceptions, and work had finally begun. The government wanted only the best, and Al was working himself to the bone to fulfill their expectations. However, while they only expected him to be able to manage his people and meet deadlines, Al expected far more of himself. He wanted to know all the ins and outs of every department, how they all intermeshed, what was involved with the theories, the experiments, and the achievement of the project goals.

I sighed at the sight of the tension in his body. Al always gave 200 percent in whatever endeavor he committed himself to. I leaned over and lightly kissed his bare shoulder, tracing the thin white scars on his tanned skin. Al reciprocated with a brief kiss on my forehead and a grateful smile before returning his attention to the engineering theories. I shook my head. He was definitely under pressure if that was all the response I got. Al really could be hopeless sometimes, I smiled inwardly.

I settled back against my pillows and tried to focus on the PBS special on ancient Egypt. The day had been so hectic between Christmas shopping as well as getting a head start on birthday plans for Bridget and Michele that I hadn't had a chance to stop so the highbrow but leisurely PBS offerings seemed to be a nice change of pace. The narrator's even toned voice wouldn't disturb Al from his reviews, either. I ran my hand across my forehead, reminding myself to adjust the thermostat when the show was over; it was set too warm. Despite my wish to relax, I found myself reaching for the tablet on the nightstand and checking over my list of things to do, only half hearing the host's soft Americanized British voice as he explained, "And thus, in this new age of archeology, in addition to the tried and true methods of good old fashioned detective work, we turn to the tools technology has provided. Dr. Samuel Beckett is particularly qualified to speak to these new developments as he assists the team from his knowledge of Egyptian Archeology and Hieroglyphics in addition to his extensive background in Physics."

The show switched from a wide shot of the dig to a close up of the man, who described the technology he'd developed to help the team locate where to dig. Samuel Beckett seemed very familiar to me somehow. I leaned forward and studied his face, idly setting the notepad back on the nightstand. Dr. Beckett turned his head as he spoke and I noticed a small shock of white hair above his forehead. I drew my breath in as in a flash I realized where I had seen him before. I remembered the same voice, the same face, the same man in my living room twelve years ago, telling me Al was alive. And then vanishing!

But the man I saw was older!

The show shifted to a shot of the commentator, who said, "This area of study seems to be an unlikely place for utilizing such high level Physics applications."

I bit my lip, mentally urging the show to cut back to the scientist, but it panned across the white board where a combination of equations and maps were meticulously scrawled while he continued speaking, "It is my experience that integrating multiple areas of study yields connections that can't be seen in conventional analysis. For instance, by working on this area of archeology, I see potential synergies with a concept that I've developed concerning the nature of space-time which may allow us to interact in a more personal nature with the past." Finally, the camera returned to Samuel Beckett's face and I pulled up my memories of the angel who'd visited me in '69, comparing the two.

Yes, the angel had been older, but somehow, it was definitely the same man. How? My mind swam at the dizzying thoughts running through it. The show became a blur and the man's face floated before my mind's eye. "I'm a friend of Al's," he'd said. I swallowed hard and grabbed Al's thigh, shaking his leg to get his attention.

"Al? Do you know him?" I pointed at the screen, where the scientist's face was prominently displayed as he continued explaining how archaeology was akin to traveling into the past then went into detail about his theory on personally observing the past.

Al contemplated Beckett's eager face. "No, hon, never met him before."

I paled. "Are you sure, Al? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Positive, Beth, why?" Al looked at me and noticed the total lack of color in my face. "Honey? What is it?" I shook my head wordlessly. Al's tone grew sharp. "Beth! What's wrong?"

"I'm a friend of Al's." … "Al's alive and he's coming home." … " A story with a happy ending, but only if you believe me." … "Al's alive and he's coming home." … "Al's alive…" "I'm a friend of Al's." The words cycled over and over again in my mind.

But Al doesn't know him. How could they have been friends? Unless…traveling into the past…can it be? I gasped as I realized with sudden clarity that I had been about to give up on Al—I had given up on Al in 1969.

"I'm here to help you. Help you, and help Al." … "Al's alive and he's coming home."

Samuel Beckett had figured out how to do it. He'd figured out how to travel in time and visited me so that I wouldn't give up on Al. Suddenly, Al's long-ago nightmare of being declared dead and losing me came to mind—and it terrified me. He'd felt that the dream was real because at one time it had been real! Our home, our daughters, our love, our life together never would have been because of a choice I had made. Or had I? I frantically searched for meaning. The implications of the enigma slapped me with their full force.

My heart was racing as quickly as the thoughts in my mind. I tried to catch my breath, but my lungs refused to cooperate and I started to wheeze. My body began to shiver uncontrollably as my hand instinctively went to the base of my throat. I'm going into shock, the clinical portion of my mind recognized. I heard the engineering book fall to the floor and felt Al's hands grasping my shoulders.

"Beth!" Al's voice was filled with alarm.

I struggled to look at him as I gasped for breath, but all I could see was Samuel Beckett's face.

"Hang on, baby, everything's going to be just fine," Al promised. He was trying to sound reassuring, but fear tightened his voice.

I felt him wrap me in a blanket. He cradled me in his lap with one arm while the other reached for something. I heard him urgently talking to someone, but his words were meaningless sounds. Reality was funneling down, and Samuel Beckett was at the center. I vaguely felt Al's hands moving across my neck and chest, and then everything went black.

The first sound I heard was the consistent beeping of a heart monitor. The small disks attached to my chest were the first sensation I became aware of. Then I felt my hand being tightly squeezed and the slight tickle of breath moving across my fingers. As I moved closer to consciousness, I heard Al's voice, murmuring. I slowly opened my eyes.

I recognized the emergency wing of the hospital. Looking to my right, I saw Al bent in prayer, my hand pressed against his lips. His face was as pale as the walls and blotched red from the worried tears he'd shed.

"You look terrible," I croaked. My throat was bone dry. The oxygen tube resting on my upper lip was heavy as I spoke.

Al's head snapped up. "You don't look so hot yourself," he smiled wanly. He slid his fingers up and down my arm. "God, you gave me such a scare, Beth."

"What happened?" I asked in a hoarse whisper. I couldn't work up any saliva at all.

Al poured a small cup of water from a nearby pitcher, and gently raised it to my lips. After I swallowed, I smiled weakly at him in thanks.

"I don't know, baby. You were watching some special on pyramids or pharaohs. You asked me if I knew the guy talking, and then you started shivering and gasping for breath. And then you just collapsed. My God, Beth, your heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to burst." Al closed his eyes as he remembered then opened them to look at me, the seriousness in his look belying the lightness in his tone. "I know those pharaohs had some fancy tombs, Beth, but I don't want to see you in one." He reached for my hand, now sincerely declaring, "I couldn't deal with you dying on me."

"I'm sorry, hon. The last thing you need right now is more stress."

"Don't you dare apologize," Al told me. "You're what's important." He leaned over to kiss my cheek.

"Oh, Al, the girls!" I started to sit up, but Al held me down.

"Calm down, honey, everything's fine. Eileen came over to stay with the girls when the ambulance arrived. They're all sound asleep; I called to check on them while I wasn't allowed to be with you. All that matters right now is making sure you're okay."

I took a deep breath, wondering how I would explain what had happened. Al was sure to ask at some point. How can he believe what I hardly believe myself? That a man, who I thought was an angel, claiming to be his friend, came from the future to restore my faith in Al's return? From the future? Time travel? How is that possible? I shook my head as I felt my pulse speed up at the paradoxical thoughts running through my mind. The monitor's beeping sped accordingly.

I looked into Al's concerned face and smiled reassuringly at him. "I'll be fine," I said.

"Do you mind if I corroborate that?" the doctor asked as he entered the room. He was rather young and had a detached air of efficiency; apparently things like introductions were beneath him. He whipped out his stethoscope and dispassionately began examining me. When he was done, he tapped his pencil thoughtfully against his teeth and made notes on the chart, never once making eye contact or speaking to either of us. I felt Al tense in annoyance, and I gently pressed his hand to calm him.

Al finally had enough. "Well?" he demanded.

The young doctor glanced up from the chart. "She was admitted in a severe state of shock. Blood analysis revealed a viral infection." I noticed the small bandage in the crook of my arm for the first time. The doctor continued, "But I'm not convinced the infection alone was the catalyst. Is your family under any stress right now? A new job? A move? Troubles with your children? Marital problems?"

"Well, things have started gearing up at my job," Al said, almost to himself, when the doctor paused in his litany.

"I see. And do you bring your work home? Is your wife exposed to your personal stress?"

Al realized what the doctor was implying. He closed his eyes and nodded.

I glared at the doctor, who hadn't spoken to me at all, so confident in his own knowledge and abilities. He didn't speak to me now, either. He nodded knowingly and marked the chart. "We'll keep her for observation. Good night." He turned and left without another word.

"Al, don't listen to him. You're not responsible for this," I said. But I could see that the damage had already been done. Al wouldn't meet my eyes. I silently cursed the doctor. "Dammit, Al, look at me," I demanded. Al slowly raised his bloodshot eyes.

"Beth, oh, Beth, baby, I had no idea I was . . ."

"Shut up, Al!" I interrupted him angrily. "I can't believe you're listening to that . . . that . . . that nozzle." Despite himself, he chuckled weakly at my appropriation of his vocabulary. "I have an infection, Al. Infections can cause shock."

"Yes, Beth, they can, but I think maybe he was right in that there's more to it than that."

I didn't answer.

"I'm right, aren't I? Honey, is my work affecting you?"

"No, Al, it's not. It has nothing to do with your job."

"What was it, then, that piece about the pyramids? Come on, why would that upset you? Beth, what happened tonight?"

I hesitated before answering. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to lie to Al, but at the same time I didn't see how I could possibly tell the truth, as I wasn't too certain of the facts myself. I opted for a middle ground. "Did I ever tell you how I knew you were still alive for those eight years while you were M.I.A.?"

"No, but what does that have to do with this?" Al asked, refusing to be deflected.

I shushed him as I continued. "Before your photograph ever showed up in Life, I knew you were alive. I know this is going to sound insane, but I was visited by…well, by an angel. An angel who convinced me you were still alive. I—I'm ashamed to admit it, Al, but I thought you were dead back in '69. Two years—I couldn't imagine anyone surviving that long after being shot down." I touched Al's cheek, hoping to soften the blow that I had ever doubted he would come back to me. "Anyway, this man who was talking on the show, well he looked an awful lot like the angel I remember, and I guess it was just too much for me to handle. On top of the fact I didn't even know I was sick. Believe me, sweetie, you had nothing to do with what happened tonight."

Al slowly shook his head from side to side. "Why didn't you ever tell me this?" he asked, his eyes growing moist.

The sight of tears building in his eyes broke my heart and stray tears of my own spilled down my cheeks. "I didn't want to hurt you by letting you know I didn't believe in you the whole time you were gone."

"Oh, Beth, how could you think I would hold that against you? No wonder you collapsed." Al hugged me, being careful of all the wires attached to me. "I never once thought you were superhuman. God, I can't imagine how much you had to have been hurting while I was gone. Baby, the important thing is that you believed in me enough that you waited for me, whether an angel helped you or not."

My chest tightened as a powerful wave of love for this man washed over me. Stretching to touch his cheek again, I stroked his face and looked deeply into his dark brown eyes. "And I believe in you now. I believe that your project will be a smashing success," I said.

"Now don't start worrying about that," Al ordered. "My job is an off-limits topic for tonight. Right now you just rest and get better. Promise me, okay?"

"I promise," I sighed. I closed my eyes as Al began stroking my hair and softly singing, the gravelly, slightly off-key tones soothing me to sleep and easing the conflicting thoughts to a far-off corner of my mind.

"Wise men say only fools rush in….but I can't help falling in love with you . . ."

Author's Note: Many thanks to Helen Gerhard for writing a fictional PBS sequence to improve this scene!Thank you also to one of my beta-readers, MJ Cogburn, for pointing out a flaw needing correcting.