Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [121]
The conversation was full of regrets, things not said, acts undone. She was as soft and vulnerable as Dave had ever seen her. By all the laws of nature, Shel was dead. Was he still bound to keep his distance? He wondered how she would react if she knew Shel was probably in Dave’s kitchen at that moment, making a submarine sandwich.
He wanted to tell her. There was a possibility that, when she did find out, when she got past her anger with Shel, she’d hold it against Dave as well. He also, God help him, wanted to keep Shel dead. It was hard to admit to himself, but it was true. He wanted nothing more than a clear channel to Helen Suchenko. But when he watched her bite down the pain, when the tears came, when she excused herself with a shaky voice and hurried back to the ladies’ room, he could stand it no more. “Helen,” he said, “are you free this afternoon?”
She sighed. “It’s my afternoon off. Just as well. People get nervous around weepy doctors. I’m free. But I’m not in the mood to go anywhere.”
“Can I persuade you to come out to my place?”
She looked desperately fragile. “I don’t think so, Dave. I need time to myself.”
He listened to the hum of conversation around them. “Please,” he said. “It’s important.”
THE gray skies sagged down into the streets, and all the headlights were on. Helen followed him in her small blue Ford. He watched her in the mirror, playing back all possible scenarios on how to handle this. He’s not dead, Helen. Leave out the time-travel stuff, he decided, at least for now. Use the story he’d told Jerry as an example of how misunderstandings can occur. And then bring him into the room. Best not to warn him. God knows how he’d react. But get them together, present him with a fait accompli, and you will have done your self-sacrificial duty, Dave. You dumb bastard.
He pulled into his driveway, opened the garage, and rolled inside. The rain had grown even more intense. Helen stopped behind him, and hurried out of her car. “This way.” Dave waved her into the garage.
“Glad to be out of that,” she said, with a drenched smile. “Dave, I can’t stay long.”
“Okay. We’ll only need a minute.”
The garage opened into the kitchen. He unlocked the door but stopped to listen before going farther. Everything was quiet inside. He stood back so she could enter and closed the door behind her, making no effort to muffle the sound. He switched on the kitchen light, then led the way into the living room. “About Shel—” He raised his voice a notch.
“Yes?”
“This is going to come as a shock.”
She frowned. “You’re not going to tell me he was already married.”
“No. Nothing like that.”
A white envelope lay on a side table, with Dave’s name on it, printed in Shel’s precise hand. He snatched it up, but not before she’d seen it.
“Just a list of things to do.” He pushed it into his pocket. “How about some coffee?”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
“It’ll have to be instant.” He went back out into the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove.
She followed. “Do you always do that?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Write yourself notes?”
“It’s my to-do list. It’s the first thing I do every morning.”
She got two cups down. “What’s going to come as a shock?”
“Give me a second,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He slipped out and opened the envelope.
Dear Dave,
I don’t know how to write this. But I have to think about what’s happened, and figure out what I need to do. I don’t want to jump the gun if it’s not necessary. You understand.
I know this hasn’t been easy for you. But I’m glad you were there. Thanks.
Shel
P.S. I’ve left most of my estate to the Leukemia Foundation. That will probably generate a half dozen lawsuits from my relatives. But if any of those vultures shows signs of winning, I’ll come back personally and deal with them.
Dave read it a half dozen times. Then he crumpled it, pushed it into