Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [1]
“Ashes to ashes—”
Shel had been the first time traveler. Well, the second, really. His father had been first. But of all the people assembled at the funeral, only Dave was aware of any of that.
He stood with hands thrust into his coat pockets. He’d buried friends before—Al Caisson after he’d been struck down by an aneurysm, and Lee Carmody, who’d fallen out of a tree at Scout camp. But neither loss had been this painful. Maybe because Shel had seemed so alive. Maybe because he and Shel had shared so much. It was true the guy had been odd, sometimes annoying, unpredictable. Selfish, even. He didn’t have a lot of friends. But on that final day, Dave realized that he’d loved him. Had never known anyone like him.
“—In the sure and certain hope—”
Dave wasn’t all that confident about a resurrection, but he knew with cold clarity that Adrian Shelborne still walked the earth in other ages. Even up ahead somewhere. Shel had admitted to only brief jumps downstream, nothing beyond a month or so, just enough to satisfy his curiosity. But Dave had sensed recently that he was hiding something. Shel, he suspected, had gone deeper into the future than he’d admitted.
Not that it mattered anymore.
The preacher finished, closed his book, and raised his hand to bless the polished orchid-colored coffin. The wind blew, and the air was heavy with approaching rain. The mourners, many anxious to be about the day’s business, bent their heads, queued up, and walked past, placing lilies atop the coffin. When it was done, they lingered briefly, murmuring to each other. Helen stood off to one side, looking lost.
Lover with no formal standing. Not even known to Jerry or the other family members. She dabbed jerkily at her eyes and kept her gaze riveted on the gray stone that carried his name and dates.
She looked his way, and their eyes touched.
The mourners began walking toward their cars, exchanging a few last words, starting the engines, driving away. A few seemed reluctant to leave. Among them, Helen.
Dave strode over and joined her. “You okay?”
She nodded yes.
Shel had never understood how Dave had felt about her. He used to talk about her a lot when they were upstream. How she’d enjoy Victorian London. Or St. Petersburg before the first war. And, of course, he’d never shared the great secret with her. That was always something he was going to do later.
For that matter, she had never understood how Dave felt. He’d introduced her to Shel and stood by while he walked off with her. Dumb.
It occurred to him that maybe he was getting a second chance. The thought no sooner entered his mind than a flush of guilt ran through him. He pushed the idea away.
Still—
She was trembling.
Her cheeks were wet.
“I’ll miss him, too,” David said.
“I loved him, Dave.”
“I know.” He caught her arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
They started toward the road. Tears leaked out of her eyes. She stopped, tried to say something, tried again. “I would have liked,” she said, when she’d regained a degree of control, “to have had a chance to tell him how much he meant to me. How glad I was to have known him.”
“He knew, Helen. He was obsessed with you.” She sniffle d, wiped her eyes. “Are you going back to the house for coffee?”
“No. I think I’ve had enough.”
“Why don’t you let me take you home?”
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’ll be okay.” Her car was parked near a stone angel.
Linda Keffler, Shel’s boss for a good many years, came over and expressed her condolences. “We’ll miss him,” she said.
She obviously had no idea who Helen was, so David introduced them. “They were close friends,” he said.
“I’m so sorry, dear. To lose him like that—”
Helen didn’t try to speak. She just stood, trying to control her emotions.
Linda looked a bit weepy herself. “Let me know,” she said, “if there’s anything I can do.” Then she was striding toward her car, moving quickly, anxious to be away.
When she was gone, Helen started