Photographs in Time Read online

  “How I met him. The Frenchman, that is. He’d come into my grandfather’s shop, not in search of me, but to see my father. He had been chosen to become a Collector. My father refused. It was right around the time he met my mother.”

  “So, you weren’t even born yet?”

  “Will you let me tell this, please? No interruptions. It’s hard enough.”

  I softened a little, yet the hurt of his misleading me lingered. He sensed it even before I spoke. “Okay, honey, go on.” We’d been together too long not to read each other’s moods.

  “Thank you.” Narrowing the lids of his eyes, he took a deep breath then continued to speak quietly. “My father wasn’t interested in being a Collector but agreed to stock the film slides needed to make the matches possible.”

  Jumping in, risking another interruption, I said, “I just have to ask,” Jimmy hesitated, yet nodded for me to go on. “How did you know this? You said your father died when you were a teenager.”

  “I’ll get to that. It’s part of the history I’m about to reveal. Let me tell it in order. This happened so long ago, and I need to keep it straight in my own head. Maybe we’ll discover an overlooked detail that can help us now.”

  As I settled back into the wicker chair, it creaked like the sound of breaking twigs as I shifted my weight. With a quiet sigh and a gulp of wine, I waited for Jimmy to continue. Maybe he should have brought the bottle out.

  “I did meet the Frenchman myself years later while stationed in Viet Nam.” He hesitated a moment, “With Carney.”

  “What? How could you keep that secret?”

  “Please. You promised.”

  I didn't know whether to be angry or sad that he hadn’t told me. It didn’t matter. Jimmy no longer had the luxury of withholding information, good or bad. I needed the entire truth.

  He took a ragged breath. I could tell the guilt raked at his soul by the way he wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  “Carney and I were friends. We grew up in the same neighborhood in San Francisco but didn’t know each other until boot camp, when all this began.”

  He paused.

  I waited.

  “In boot camp, we were bunk mates. What are the odds? Most of the guys in our unit were from all over this United States. Carney and I grew up a few blocks apart. Went to the same high school but didn’t really know each other. When you grow up in a big city, the world stops at the end of your block—at least when you’re a kid.

  “But drastic times and all that rot. You know how it goes. A year after my father died, my grandfather told me about the film plates. Being young and knowing everything, I thought he was crazy—but he knew. He knew I would get mixed up in it eventually. I used to think a warning would have been nice as to what else it would entail, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered.” A smile flickered across his face. He always had a soft spot for his grandfather. The death of Jimmy’s father had taken its toll on them both.

  Jimmy sipped at his wine. “Carney and I became inseparable friends. Oh, the trouble we got into on leave! This one time…” He smiled as he remembered the incident he was about to recount, then stopped. A stony look covered his face as he set his jaw in a scowl. “It doesn’t matter. Not important.”

  “Yes, it is important,” I insisted. “Tell me about the good times too.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Not given what’s happened. We were friends. Leave it at that.”

  “Okay. Tell me what I need to know.” I reached out and rubbed his arm in encouragement.

  “We ended up in Nam—just like every other guy in the Army at that time. We saw our share of action. Lost friends. Same old story that’s been told before.”

  “Why do you do that? It mattered. Don’t belittle that. It is one of the many accomplishments in your life.”

  “Sorry, you’re right. I get so jaded about the whole time. Not so much about the politics, but what happened to us personally. Carney and me. You know how he got the name Carney?”

  “No. Tell me.”

  “He loved carnivals and the circus. Animals, zoos, the whole bit. That came out in boot camp. We started calling him Carney, and it stuck. His real name was Todd. Todd Merchant. But everyone knew him as Carney.

  “Anyway, it happened after another white-knuckle day. We thought we’d see fighting, but thankfully, were wrong. After the first couple of skirmishes, nobody was keen on seeing action. The blood and gore got old fast.” Jimmy grimaced as if he’d tasted something sour. “He and I got separated from the unit and stumbled across an old stone temple. Not unusual in the Asian jungles. This one had elephants carved all over the outside. It was astounding! We dubbed it Carney’s Temple. Walking around it, we found the entrance and cleared enough of the overgrowth to squeeze through.

  “The jungle had mostly reclaimed it. Looked as if nobody ventured inside for decades. Vines and foliage grew all over the open entry and most of the outside. Honestly, we probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all had I not tripped. Trying to catch my fall, I grabbed a vine that pulled away to reveal the stonework. The structure stood about twenty feet high and a hundred square feet around. We thought maybe it was a mausoleum or shrine.

  “We went inside to explore. We should have been searching for our unit, but at times like that, you took any distraction you could get. No matter the risk.”

  I leaned forward and touched his arm. “It was an abandoned temple. How much risk could there be?”

  “There could have been enemy soldiers inside or a hidden trap. Ancient relics or human life meant nothing to those bastards! They would blow anything up in a heartbeat if it meant killing a few Americans. Instead, we got a surprise that changed our lives forever.” Jimmy paused took a sip of wine, then covered my hand with his. “All of our lives.”

  Chapter 4

  Jimmy continued, “Luck was on our side that day—or so we thought. Finding the entrance empty, we ventured further inside. Elephant carvings and figures of men covered the walls of the small shrine. They meant nothing to us. A tunnel on the far side of the chamber spiraled downward to a gallery with doorways off each side. We passed them, choosing to see where this passage ended first.

  “We inched our way along the walls as the daylight from above faded. Being cautious, we didn’t want to light a match.

  “As we rounded a bend in the tunnel, a glow of light seeped into the darkness. Shadows danced on the wall ahead. Wary of a possible second entryway, our weapons came up at the ready as we neared the next turn.

  “We heard the crackle of a fire echoing off the walls of the cavern. In the silence of the darkness, the noise sounded louder than it should have. The smell of burning twigs grew stronger as we approached.

  “Peering in carefully, we discovered an old man sitting beside a low-burning campfire. We knew he couldn’t be a local; he was white. Didn’t eliminate the possibility of a threat. He wore a pair of khakis and a worn, denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His leather boots looked as if he’d marched hundreds of miles in them. Maybe he had since he was sitting in the middle of a jungle.

  “You could tell this guy had some years on him as his face looked as leathery and worn as his boots, yet his hair was mostly black with just a touch of silver. Even more bizarre, he was drinking tea. Can you believe it? He sat in a camp chair holding a steaming cup, as if at a café on the Champs Elysees.”

  “You found the Frenchman,” I said.

  “Yes. He looked at us, smiled and said ‘You’re late. My 24 hours is almost up and we have a lot of information to cover.’ Carney and I looked at each other, then back at the stranger. That’s when Carney pinched me. The bastard pinched me! I jumped and asked him why. He said he needed to make sure this was real.” Jimmy chuckled.

  By the tone in his voice, I could tell Jimmy would remember that life-changing moment until the end of time.

  “The man spoke English with a soft French accent, the lilt of his voice almost mesmerizing.

  “’Are you for real
?’ Carney asked him.

  “The Frenchman responded with a nod. ‘Sit. Share some tea. Quickly though. As I said, you are late, and my time is nearly spent.’

  “The whole scene threw us both off balance, so we did as we were told, despite our building curiosity. The Frenchman filled two more tin cups with tea from the pot on the fire and handed us each one. Cupping my hand around the metal, it felt almost too hot to hold.

  “It struck me—maybe he was waiting for us. Most guys only carried one spare while camping alone. How could he know he’d need two? For all we knew, it could have been laced with arsenic. Carney just shrugged, tipped his cup in a toast, as if to say, ‘what the hell’ and we drank.

  “Carney acted this way in most situations; dive in and see what happens. Me? I followed. Blindly at times, but I always knew it would be a fun ride with him. At least that’s what I hoped. Didn’t always turn out that way…”

  Jimmy’s voice drifted off. He sat quietly lost in thought. After several moments he raked his hand through his hair, turned and looked at me. It was as if he suddenly realized I still sat next to him on a porch in Southern California, not a cave in Viet Nam. As Jimmy’s eyes re-focused, he continued his story.

  “’Listen,’ the man said, ‘for this is your time. It wasn’t clear whether I would receive one or two. You are both here, so that is how it shall be.’ Carney and I looked at each other, then back at the Frenchman. He didn’t offer a name. He didn’t ask ours. ‘I am a Collector. It is time to pass the job to another. You are friends, yes?’ We nodded. Maybe the tea made us submit, or perhaps the need for any distraction in that nightmare country. Either way, we both welcomed his words with open arms.

  “The Frenchman continued. ‘I am leaving the arena, and it is your turn to take over. Only one of you may choose to do this or neither. You always have the choice. However, if you decide to embrace the role of Collector, you must follow through with all your duties. Fulfill your quota of thirty couples, regardless of how long it may take. Leaving the matches unfinished could have serious consequences. Going beyond your quota is allowed, but never be short. Using the tools inappropriately could also have a dire effect.’

  “He paused to take a sip of tea. From the deep creases in his face, I thought the conversation might be a strain on him. Carney looked at me, then back at the old man. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Collector? Quota? Tools? Have you been dabbling a bit too much with the weed, old man?’”

  Jimmy chuckled again. “Leave it to Carney to state the obvious. We were both thinking it. As usual, he took the initiative to voice it out loud.

  “’Well put, young man. I wondered when one of you would find his voice again. Wasn’t sure if I was getting through. Thank you for the confirmation! I believe you may be familiar with some of this?’ He must have known my grandfather had tried to tell me about his role in the process, but I wasn't buying into it. Carney glanced my way.

  “He continued, ‘When this war is over, you will go to New York City. In case you were wondering, the answer is yes, you will both survive the ordeal here. In Chinatown you will find two old antique shops much like your grandfather’s in San Francisco,’ he said looking at me again. ‘They are The Golden Dragon and The Purple Lotus. Ask the proprietor for the set of sepia plates left by the last Collector. Phrase it exactly that way—left by the last Collector. They will give them to you at no charge and instruct you in their use. Listen carefully and don’t stray from the rules.”

  I nodded. “So, he passed the baton to you and Carney.” I knew the sequence as he’d told me about it when we’d first met. The previous Collector chose a new protégé then the new Collector found his own Photographer. Most times the process only passed on to one. Very rarely were two new Collectors chosen when one retired. Nobody knew how many other Collectors were out there working. With jumping back and forth through time and on seven continents, there could be several. Or there could only be one, or two in this case.

  Jimmy set his empty wine glass on the table. “Yes. I embraced the idea completely, realizing Grandfather knew the path. I thought maybe he was preparing me to be a keeper of the film plates like my father. Now I believe he aided my becoming a Collector since my father turned it down. He never told me how he knew. Actually, he never told me much of anything, just hinted. That was his way. Drop a few clues then leave you to figure things out on your own. So, Carney and I listened to the rest of what the Frenchman had to say. I sensed Carney wasn’t quite buying into it, but the Frenchman knew I believed. He told us of how the sepias worked to connect couples over the decades.”

  Gently squeezing his hand, I said, “You told me how it worked when we first met. Maybe you should go through it all anyway, to be sure we both have all the details.”

  “Good idea. As I originally explained, the first step involved a set of thirty, brown-framed sepias for the Collector to go back in time and interview the Suitor, the husband to be. The Suitors were already chosen; he didn't explain by whom. The sepia slide allows the Collector to go back for twenty-four hours, one time only.

  “The next set belonged to the Photographer: three for each Suitor—two used by the Betrothed, or bride to be, and one emergency slide if needed by the Photographer. Each frame is color-coded, designating it’s use. The Photographer finds an appropriate woman for a union and matches her with a Suitor based on the information gathered by the Collector. Only the Collector and Photographer were to know how the time travel really worked.”

  I placed my hands in my lap, reviewing what Jimmy said. “Okay, so far everything is the same as the first time you explained it to me.” Tucking a stray hair behind my ear, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the first time I heard this explanation. How young we both were.

  “The yellow-framed slide sends the Betrothed back for one day. The second, which is blue, enables her final journey back into the past for a life with the Suitor. No returning to the present once she went back to the same time twice. Arriving within a thirty-day window either before or after the original date leaves a person permanently in the past.

  “The red-framed sepia slide remained for emergency only. If the Photographer needed to go back in case anything came up, she would use it for a twenty-four-hour period of her choosing, within the second to fourth week after the Betrothed’s arrival. Rarely were these slides used.” Jimmy stood up and walked to the edge of the porch, looking out to the bay below.

  He needed to go through the whole thing for his own sanity. After thirty years together, I knew how his thought process worked. He needed to say the details out loud.

  Moments later when he returned, the chair creaked as he settled into it. Reaching his hand out to me, we intertwined our fingers, and he gave a squeeze before continuing. “Occasionally, the Betrothed chose not to go back on a second journey. That still counted as a match, despite it not being successful. Neither the Suitor nor the Betrothed get a second chance. It’s all or nothing. One time only.

  “One caveat applied to the Photographer and Collector as well. They could only go back to a certain time for a single journey. If they traveled back to the same time twice, they would be trapped permanently in that era with no possibility of returning to their original time frame.

  “The Frenchman stressed the importance of it all then vanished—mid-sentence!”

  “His twenty-four hours was up, wasn’t it?” I already knew the answer, but still asked.

  “Yes,” said Jimmy. “At that point, Carney started to think there might be a kernel of truth in his story. The guy vanished before our eyes. We both agreed he couldn’t fake that. We decided to tell no one in our unit; they’d think we smoked too much weed. Maybe we should’ve been smoking instead.” He squeezed my hand again, “Despite all this, the process led me to you. It was all worth it.”

  Jimmy gazed into my eyes then leaned over and kissed my lips.

  My face flushed with warmth, the way it always did at his touch. Damn I loved that man! He saw past th
e tragedy and mystery surrounding us and the lives we’d touched, only to focus on how it brought us together. I couldn’t fault him for that. I treasured our love and life together, yet guilt gnawed at the edges of my happiness. How could I be so selfish when lives had been lost because of us? I struggled with that moral question. No acceptable answer came to mind.

  “What happened next?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Well, nothing worthwhile. Carney and I chose to not talk about what happened. We instinctively knew to steer clear of a conversation on that subject while still in Nam. The war went on. Our time there ended, with both of us still alive, as predicted.”

  “Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t survived,” I stated angrily, rising to stare out at the ocean.

  The oaken boards creaked as he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Don’t fall into his trap, Sami. Even your wishing him dead is wrong.”

  Wrapping my arms over his, I settled back into his embrace. “Carney deserves to die. He’s evil. He killed innocent women.”

  “Yes,” he said, “but still…” His voice trailed off.

  One point of the story nagged at me. Turning in his arms to face him, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Jimmy, did the Frenchman ever tell you what he meant by consequences for not fulfilling your quota or using the tools inappropriately?”

  He whispered, “We never asked.”

  “Something else is disturbing about Carney. How can he pass for a man in his mid-forties? He’s about the same age as you but doesn't look to be in his sixties. You don’t quite look your age either,” I stared into his blue eyes, “but I wouldn’t think forties. Sorry, hon.”

  “No worries,” he smiled then pulled me in closer. “I don’t know the answer to that one. I’ve known for a while I’m not aging at a normal rate. I can’t explain why.”

  Chapter 5

  Sleep eluded me as Jimmy’s revelations swirled in my memory. While he wanted to stay, I told him I needed to be alone. After revealing his story to me, it had been well past dark. He returned to his townhouse in Santa Monica.