{"id":1444,"date":"2009-05-11T08:02:21","date_gmt":"2009-05-11T13:02:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/\/?p=1444"},"modified":"2009-05-10T23:05:50","modified_gmt":"2009-05-11T04:05:50","slug":"memorys-gate-by-paul-mccusker","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=1444","title":{"rendered":"Memory’s Gate by Paul McCusker"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is:<\/strong><\/div>\n

\n<\/strong><\/div>\n
Paul McCusker <\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Memory’s Gate
\n<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

(Time Thriller series) <\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Zondervan (May 1, 2009)<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>Paul McCusker is the author of The Mill House, Epiphany, The Faded Flower and several Adventures in Odyssey programs. Winner of the Peabody Award for his radio drama on the life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer for Focus on the Family, he lives in Colorado Springs with his wife and two children.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/strong><\/p>\n

List Price: $9.99
\nReading level: Young Adult
\nPaperback: 208 pages
\nPublisher: Zondervan (May 1, 2009)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 0310714389
\nISBN-13: 978-0310714385<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Chapter One<\/p>\n

What in the world am I doing here? Elizabeth Forde asked herself as she followed a silver-haired woman down the main hallway of the Fawlt Line Retirement Center.<\/p>\n

Of all the things I could have spent the rest of my summer doing, why this? Yes, she had agreed to volunteer at the retirement center. She had even felt enthusiastic about the idea at the time. But walking down the cold, clinical, pale green hallway with the smell of pine disinfectant in the air, Elizabeth wondered if she had made a mistake.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d been swept along by Reverend Armstrong\u2019s passionate call to the young people of the church. He had exuberantly insisted that they get involved in the community. They must be a generation of givers rather than takers, he\u2019d said. His words were powerful and persuasive, and before she knew what she was doing she had joined a line of other young people to sign up for volunteer service. Just a few hours a day, three or four days a week, for a couple of weeks. It hadn\u2019t sounded like much.<\/p>\n

An old man, bent like a question-mark, stepped out of his room and smiled toothlessly at her.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s too much, she thought. Let me out of here.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know what you\u2019re thinking,\u201d said her guide, Mrs. Kottler, with a smile. \u201cYou\u2019re thinking that a few hours a day simply won\u2019t be enough. You\u2019ll want more time. Everyone feels that way. But if you do the best you can with the hours you have, you\u2019ll be just fine. I promise. Maybe later, once you\u2019ve proven yourself, we\u2019ll let you come in longer.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth smiled noncommittally.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Kottler wore masterfully applied makeup, discreet gold jewelry, and a fashionable dark blue dress. She smelled of expensive perfume. Elizabeth thought she looked more like a real estate agent than the administrator of an old folks\u2019 home.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t call it an \u2018old folks\u2019 home,\u2019 by the way,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said, as if she\u2019d read Elizabeth\u2019s mind, \u201cor a \u2018sanitarium\u2019 or any of those other outdated names. It\u2019s just what the sign says: it\u2019s a retirement center. People have productive and active lives here. Being a senior citizen doesn\u2019t mean you have one foot in the grave. People who retire at sixty-five often have another twenty or thirty years to enjoy their lives. We\u2019re here to help them do it as well as it can be done.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth noted a couple of productive and active people staring blankly at the television sets in their rooms.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course, we do have older residents who have gone beyond their mental or physical capacity to jog around the center six times a day, if you know what I mean,\u201d Mrs. Kottler added as they rounded a corner and walked briskly down a short corridor toward two large doors. \u201cFor the rest of them, there\u2019s a full schedule of activities throughout the day. Most take place here in the recreation room.\u201d<\/p>\n

She pushed on the two doors. They swung open grandly to reveal a large room filled with game tables, easels, bookcases filled with hundreds of books and magazines, and a large-screen television. Unlike the main halls and cafeteria Elizabeth had just seen, this room was decorated warmly with wooden end-tables, lace doilies, and the kinds of chairs and sofas found in showcase living rooms. Tastefully painted scenes of sunlit hills, lush green valleys, and golden rivers adorned the walls.<\/p>\n

\u201cPretty, huh? I decorated this one myself,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said. \u201cI know what you\u2019re thinking. You\u2019re thinking that they should have let me decorate the entire center. Well, that wasn\u2019t my decision to make. The residents are responsible for decorating their own rooms any way they like. Most of the other assembly areas were done before I joined the staff.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long have you been working here?\u201d Elizabeth asked politely.<\/p>\n

\u201cFive years,\u201d Mrs. Kottler answered, then added wistfully, \u201cTime. It goes by so quickly, don\u2019t you find?\u201d<\/p>\n

For Elizabeth, who had been only eleven years old when Mrs. Kottler started her job, the last five years hadn\u2019t gone by quickly at all. She had traveled from the carefree days of Barbie dolls to the insecurities of middle school to the early stages of womanhood and wide-eyed wonder over her future. And she had also traveled to a parallel time, not that she\u2019d be inclined to mention such a thing to Mrs. Kottler. No, it hasn\u2019t gone by very quickly, she thought. And as she considered the residents of the center and realized that one day she might have to live in a place like this, she hoped life would never go by that quickly. She shuddered at the thought.<\/p>\n

A tall, handsome young man entered through a door at the opposite end of the recreation room. \u201cMrs. K., I was wondering\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoug Hall, come meet Elizabeth Forde,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said, waving her arms as if she might create enough of a breeze to sail Doug over to them.<\/p>\n

Doug strode across the room with a smile that showed off the deep dimples in his cheeks. He\u2019s a movie star, Elizabeth thought. His curly brown hair, perfectly formed face, large brown eyes, and painstakingly sculpted physique that was enhanced, not hidden, by the white clinical coat made her certain. He\u2019s a movie star playing a doctor, she amended.<\/p>\n

Doug outstretched a hand and said, \u201cWell, my enjoyment of this place just increased by a hundred percent.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shook his hand and blushed. \u201cHi.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoug is our maintenance engineer,\u201d Mrs. Kottler explained.<\/p>\n

Doug smiled again. \u201cShe means I\u2019m the main janitor. But I\u2019m more like a bouncer, in case these old madcap merrymakers get out of control with their wild partying and carousing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop it, Doug,\u201d Mrs. Kottler giggled. Then she turned to Elizabeth. \u201cI know what you\u2019re thinking. You\u2019re thinking, what\u2019s a good-looking and charming young man like him doing in a place like this?\u201d<\/p>\n

For once, Mrs. Kottler had it right. He\u2019s a movie star playing a janitor? It didn\u2019t seem appropriate somehow. She waited for the answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, if you can find out, please let me know,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said with another giggle. \u201cHe won\u2019t tell anyone. I assume he has a deep, dark secret. Perhaps he was involved in some sort of intrigue in France and barely escaped from the police on his yacht. Why else would he be hiding in a retirement center in a small town?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you have to know the truth, I ran off with the church funds,\u201d Doug said. He and Mrs. Kottler chuckled as if this little exchange had been their own private joke for a long time.<\/p>\n

Doug rested his gaze on Elizabeth, making her feel self-conscious about how she appeared to him. How did she look in her freshly-issued white-and-pink clinic jacket\u2014frumpy or professional? Had she taken pains with her makeup? Were her large brown eyes properly accented? Did her smile look natural? Her skin was freshly tanned, no unsightly pimples, which made her glad. She had tied back her long brown hair, but now she wished she had let it fall loose. It looked better that way, Jeff always said.<\/p>\n

Jeff.<\/p>\n

Thinking of her boyfriend at that moment gave her pause\u2014as if her self-conscious vanity was, in and of itself, an act of infidelity to him. She glanced away from Doug self-consciously.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, back to business,\u201d Doug said pleasantly, as if he\u2019d picked up on her feelings and wanted to spare her any embarrassment. \u201cI was wondering if now would be a good time to adjust the settings on the Jacuzzi. You don\u2019t have any plans to let the kids in this afternoon, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Doug, the \u2018kids\u2019 won\u2019t be going in today,\u201d Mrs. Kottler replied. \u201cDo whatever you need to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded. \u201cMaybe Elizabeth will want to test it later when I\u2019m finished.\u201d He gave her a coy grin.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think Elizabeth will be too busy getting acclimated to her new duties,\u201d Mrs. Kottler replied.<\/p>\n

Doug tipped a finger against his brow as a farewell. \u201cIf there\u2019s anything I can do to help …\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Kottler watched him go. \u201cHe\u2019s such a flirt. A charming, good-looking flirt, but a flirt nonetheless.\u201d Elizabeth detected a hint of jealousy in her voice.<\/p>\n

The tour of the center eventually led Elizabeth and Mrs. Kottler outside to the five acres of manicured grounds, landscaped into gentle green slopes that ultimately rolled down to a small manmade lake called Richards Pond. It was enclosed on one side by a natural forest that extended off to the horizon. Elizabeth walked alongside Mrs. Kottler, feeling oppressed by the humidity of the August afternoon. She swatted at the occasional mosquito that wanted to make a meal of her arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe heat and mosquitoes tend to keep everyone inside on days like this,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said.<\/p>\n

\u201cExcept those two,\u201d Elizabeth said, gesturing to two people in a white Victorian-style gazebo near the lake.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Sheriff Hounslow and his father,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said, with just enough annoyance to betray her usual professional detachment. \u201cI suppose we should say a quick hello.\u201d<\/p>\n

As they got closer, Elizabeth saw that the sheriff, a large man in a light gray uniform, was pacing in an agitated way. His father, a shadow from this distance, was sitting on one of the benches that lined the gazebo. Sheriff Hounslow saw them coming and waved.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Kottler spoke to Elizabeth in a low voice, \u201cAdam Hounslow joined us just a couple of days ago. Like many new residents, he\u2019s having a hard time adjusting. Hello, Sheriff!\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Kottler and Elizabeth mounted the steps to the shade of the round white roof covering the gazebo. The heat and humidity were not relieved there.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook who\u2019s here,\u201d Sheriff Hounslow announced. \u201cMrs. Kottler and\u2014well, well\u2014Elizabeth Forde.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, you know my new volunteer. Elizabeth will be with us a few hours a day for the next couple of weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow nice. You be sure to take special care of my father,\u201d the sheriff said. \u201cHis name is Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth could see the old man clearly now. He was bent over from some sort of arthritis and had a pale wrinkled face with hazel eyes encased in deep, worried frowns\u2014in them, she could see the resemblance between the father and the son. Wisps of thin white hair sprayed out from a spotted crown.<\/p>\n

\u201cWouldn\u2019t you like a pretty girl like Elizabeth to help take care of you, Dad?\u201d the sheriff asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t need to be taken care of,\u201d the old man growled. He tucked his head down against his chest.<\/p>\n

Sheriff Hounslow ignored the remark and continued, \u201cI\u2019m surprised to see you here, Elizabeth. Shouldn\u2019t you be getting ready for the grand opening of that historical amusement park, or whatever Malcolm calls it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not an amusement park,\u201d Elizabeth corrected him. \u201cIt\u2019s called the Historical Village.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t know you were connected to Malcolm Dubbs!\u201d Mrs. Kottler said, impressed. Malcolm Dubbs was the closest thing Fawlt Line had to royalty, a member of the English branch of the Dubbs family who\u2019d been in the area for nearly 300 years. Malcolm came to manage the estate after the last American adult member of the Dubbs family was killed in a car accident.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s also dating Jeff Dubbs,\u201d the sheriff informed her.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you? Doug will be very disappointed,\u201d Mrs. Kottler teased, then said earnestly, \u201cJeff\u2019s parents died in that terrible accident awhile back, didn\u2019t they? That was so sad.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth nodded without responding. Jeff\u2019s parents\u2014Malcolm\u2019s cousin and his wife\u2014had died in a plane crash a couple of years before. That\u2019s why Jeff lived with Malcolm.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Kottler fluttered her eyes as if she might cry. \u201cI think Malcolm Dubbs is a remarkable man. Imagine taking in that boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat boy is the true heir to the estate,\u201d Sheriff interjected sarcastically. \u201cIf I were him, I\u2019d have a lot of trouble with Malcolm using the family money to build that park.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not Jeff\u2019s money unless Malcolm dies,\u201d Elizabeth corrected him. \u201cHe\u2019s entitled to do whatever he wants with it. And Jeff is very proud of Malcolm.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Kottler nodded. \u201cAfter all, Malcolm is using it to create something everyone will learn from. It\u2019s not as if he\u2019s wasting it.\u201d She turned to Elizabeth. \u201cIs it true that he\u2019s brought in authentic buildings, displays, and artifacts from all over the world?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever he can find. From picture frames and hairbrushes to school houses and church ruins, as much as he could find from the past few hundred years is represented.\u201d She covered a smile, realizing she was reciting one of Malcolm\u2019s brochures. \u201cPhase One opens on Saturday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPhase One?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMalcolm says the village is a work in progress. He\u2019ll open various sections of it as they\u2019re ready.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs I said, it\u2019s a Disneyland of history,\u201d the sheriff said derisively.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth frowned at Sheriff Hounslow, knowing better than most the adversarial relationship the two men had. Elizabeth suspected that the sheriff was jealous of Malcolm\u2019s wealth and the respect he commanded from the townspeople. But whatever the reason, Hounslow never missed an opportunity to poke fun at Malcolm\u2019s projects or eccentricities.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t wait to go on the rides!\u201d he added.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre there rides?\u201d Mrs. Kottler asked, amazed.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth shook her head. \u201cNo. Just buildings and displays.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sheriff Hounslow grinned. \u201cThere\u2019s going to be a big celebration. The mayor will be there and a special assistant to the governor, and there\u2019ll be a telegram from the president and maybe even world peace\u2014all thanks to Malcolm Dubbs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be such a pompous fool, Richard,\u201d Adam Hounslow barked at his son. \u201cI\u2019m looking forward to seeing the village.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m glad you\u2019re looking forward to something,\u201d the sheriff remarked.<\/p>\n

\u201cLiving in a place like this, I\u2019m lucky to look forward to anything,\u201d Adam snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I\u2019m sure you don\u2019t mean that,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said. \u201cThe Fawlt Line Retirement Center will be like home to you in no time at all, I promise.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam scowled at her. \u201cThis will never be my home. My home has been sold right out from under me by my thoughtful and compassionate son.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not getting into this argument with you again, Dad,\u201d Hounslow said irritably.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes you will,\u201d Adam replied. \u201cAs long as you force me to live in places where I don\u2019t want to live, we\u2019ll have this argument.\u201d<\/p>\n

The sheriff turned on his father. \u201cWhere else are you going to live? You couldn\u2019t stay in that big old place alone. You can barely take care of yourself, let alone keep up with a big house.\u201d<\/p>\n

The old man snorted and turned away.<\/p>\n

Sheriff Hounslow wouldn\u2019t let it go. \u201cDo I have to remind you of what led up to this? Do I have to announce to the whole world how you nearly burnt the house down\u2014twice\u2014by forgetting to turn the stove burners off? Or the time you flooded the house by wandering off to the store while the bath water was running?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Kottler caught Elizabeth\u2019s eyes and jerked her head towards the center, signaling that they should leave. Heading across the grounds, Elizabeth could still hear the voices of the two men arguing behind her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know what you\u2019re thinking,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said. \u201cYou\u2019re thinking that Adam must be crazy not to like our center. Well, I agree. But he\u2019ll get used to it. They always do.\u201d<\/p>\n

They approached the building from the back, where a stone patio had been added to the recreation room. It was congested with plants and flowers of all kinds. A man in a wheelchair was pruning the plants, meticulously spraying the leaves and wiping them with a water bottle. He had long gray hair that poured out from under a large baseball cap. Beneath the brim of the cap he wore sunglasses so dark that she couldn\u2019t see his eyes at all. A bushy mustache and beard flowed downward. It struck Elizabeth that, apart from his cheeks, his face couldn\u2019t be seen at all. He wore a baggy jogging suit that, to Elizabeth\u2019s thinking, must have been unbearably hot in the heat and humidity.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Mr. Betterman, another new resident,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said. \u201cCome meet him.\u201d<\/p>\n

They crossed the patio where Mrs. Kottler introduced them.<\/p>\n

Mr. Betterman didn\u2019t speak, but grunted and held a carnation out to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cVery nice,\u201d Elizabeth said.<\/p>\n

\u201cTake it,\u201d Mrs. Kottler whispered.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth reached out to take the flower. For a second he didn\u2019t let go, but used the moment to lean closer to her and whisper, \u201cI know who you are.\u201d He gave her a slight smile then turned away to fiddle with the planter.<\/p>\n

Disconcerted, Elizabeth looked to Mrs. Kottler again, who gently shrugged. They walked inside.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did he mean by that?\u201d Mrs. Kottler asked once they were inside and clear of Betterman\u2019s hearing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Elizabeth replied. She didn\u2019t say so, but something about the man\u2019s half-smile and voice seemed familiar to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cStill, That\u2019s quite an honor,\u201d Mrs. Kottler said. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t usually talk to anyone. He\u2019s a little eccentric.\u201d<\/p>\n

No kidding, Elizabeth thought.<\/p>\n

As they drifted through the recreation room, Elizabeth found herself looking for Doug. She wasn\u2019t a flirtatious person\u2014nor was she interested in anyone but Jeff\u2014and yet she was drawn to him. Maybe because he was someone else in the building who was young and sympathetic, like her.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Kottler smiled contentedly. \u201cWell, that\u2019s most of it. I know what you\u2019re thinking. You\u2019re thinking that this is more like a beautiful hotel than a retirement center. We do our best. Now, let me show you where the storage closets are and introduce you to your new responsibilities.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chapter Two<\/p>\n

Malcolm Dubbs lived in a cottage on the edge of the Dubbs family\u2019s vast estate bordering the north edge of Fawlt Line. It had a manor house, built in the 17th century, which was now part of the Historical Village. The cottage, which he said suited him perfectly and reminded him of England, seemed to fit him perfectly. It seemed to suit Jeff, who lived there with him. Elizabeth thought that the two were remarkably happy, considering the tragedy that had brought them together.<\/p>\n

Tall and slender, Malcolm sat at the large desk in his den when Elizabeth and Jeff arrived. The sun was soon to set, and a dim yellow light washed the cluttered room. Thanks to the oak tree just beyond the French doors leading out to the patio, drops of cooler, green light filtered into the room. They highlighted the old-fashioned furniture and skimmed along the dark wood paneling, the classic paintings, the shelves sagging under too many books. Jeff smiled and turned on the banker\u2019s lamp at the head of the desk.<\/p>\n

Malcolm looked up and blinked at Jeff. \u201cOh, hi,\u201d then, \u201cAnd good evening, Elizabeth,\u201d he said wearily, his British accent making him sound intelligent and genteel.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood evening,\u201d Elizabeth said, remembering why so many young girls in Fawlt Line had a crush on the man.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you all right?\u201d Jeff asked.<\/p>\n

Malcolm sighed. \u201cAll the preparations for the grand opening have left me with too much to do and too little time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff gestured to the papers on the desk. \u201cWhat are you working on now?\u201d<\/p>\n

He pushed the papers away disdainfully. \u201cThese are daily reports of completed projects within the village, and this is another report discussing the security system and inherent weaknesses that might leave some areas vulnerable to theft.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVulnerable?\u201d Elizabeth asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe security cameras still aren\u2019t working.\u201d Malcolm leaned back in his chair and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tweed sports coat. He stretched his long legs as far as they would go.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not all doom and gloom, I hope,\u201d Elizabeth said.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. The eighteenth-century windmill from Holland is working perfectly. And we wrapped up the construction on the miners\u2019 row houses from southwest Pennsylvania. I\u2019m particularly proud of that exhibit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy that one?\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm smiled. \u201cBecause it shows the chronology of change better than most of the displays. You start at one end of the row houses, and as you walk through each one you\u2019ll see exactly how the miners lived during the last 180 years. Go in the first door, and you\u2019ll see how it was in 1820. Move on to the next door and you\u2019re looking at 1840, then 1860 and 1880 and so on until you come to the present day. We spent a lot of time getting every detail just right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth shook her head. \u201cI don\u2019t know how you pulled it all together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes I wonder myself,\u201d Malcolm admitted. \u201cIt\u2019s been a long time in the making.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHundreds of years, I figure,\u201d Jeff said.<\/p>\n

Malcolm waved his hand as if brushing away the subject. \u201cForget about the village for now. How was your first day as a volunteer, Elizabeth?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth was pleased that he even remembered, considering all the other demands on his mind. She said, \u201cIt was mostly just a chance to look around. I only met a couple of people. The center is nice, I guess, if you have to live in a place like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm chuckled. \u201cYour faint praise is overwhelming.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff dropped himself onto the sofa opposite the desk and ran his hands through his wavy dark hair. \u201cShe\u2019s sorry she ever volunteered.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth rebuked him with a sharp look. \u201cJeff.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Jeff asked innocently. \u201cDid I say something wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n

Malcolm stood up and smiled sympathetically. \u201cIf it\u2019s any consolation, Elizabeth, I think volunteering to help out at a retirement center is a noble and difficult thing to do. Many retirement homes are downright depressing, and elderly people can be very unpredictable, depending on their states of minds. But if you remember that they\u2019re people, and not just old people, you have the opportunity to do them a world of good.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth thought of how Doug Hall called them \u2018kids\u2019 and probably charmed the socks off them, if only because he didn\u2019t treat them differently from anyone else.<\/p>\n

\u201cAs quirky as your parents are, you should feel right at home,\u201d Jeff said with a laugh. Elizabeth kicked at his ankle before sitting next to him on the sofa.<\/p>\n

Malcolm tugged at his ear thoughtfully. \u201cI haven\u2019t been out to the center since they renovated it. When I was a kid, it wasn\u2019t a retirement home. It was just a house on a farm owned by someone the two of you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth and Jeff looked at each other blankly.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s where the Richards property is,\u201d Malcolm said. \u201cIt\u2019s where Charles Richards disappeared.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth\u2019s and Jeff\u2019s faces lit up with the realization.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean the Charles Richards?\u201d Jeff asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy Charles Richards?\u201d Elizabeth added in disbelief.<\/p>\n

Malcolm nodded. The three of them looked at each other silently as the story and the memories came back.<\/p>\n

**********<\/p>\n

For years the remarkable case of Charles Richards was whispered about around Fawlt Line, but treated as an unsolved mystery by those who investigate such things. Most people considered it one of those small-town myths that make their way into the consciousness of the locals\u2014like haunted houses and boogy-men\u2014particularly by parents who want to scare their kids into behaving. But Malcolm, Elizabeth, and Jeff knew this particular story was more than a myth. They believed every word of it, and for very good reason.<\/p>\n

The story went that over thirty years ago; Charles Richards, the son of a wealthy merchant, settled with his wife and two children on a modest farm outside of Fawlt Line. One morning, the two children were playing next to the sidewalk leading from the house to the front gate. Charles and his wife, Julia, stepped out of the front door, where Charles kissed his wife good-bye. He was leaving to run a few errands in Fawlt Line. Charles walked down the steps toward his children and patted them on their heads as he passed. As he reached the front gate, a car came up the road toward the house. In it was Dr. Hezekiah Beckett, the local veterinarian, and a young boy who was helping the doctor that summer. Charles waved at the doctor, paused to check the time on his wristwatch, then turned as if he might head along the fence to greet the approaching car. He took three steps and, in full view of his wife, his children, Dr. Beckett, and the boy, he disappeared.<\/p>\n

Horrified, the five of them raced to the spot and looked around. They saw only the fence and the grass. There were no bushes or trees for him to hide behind, no holes to fall into, nothing to explain how he could simply vanish into thin air.<\/p>\n

Dr. Beckett and Julia Richards searched everywhere. Then the townspeople helped. They even dug up the ground where Charles had disappeared, in the belief that he\u2019d fallen into a sinkhole or underground cavern and was trapped below. The ground was solid. Charles was gone. An investigation over the next few weeks failed to establish any clues. There was no explanation for it. Julia was bedridden for months, lost in the hope that her husband would return. No funeral or memorial service was ever held. Later, the family sold the farm and moved away.<\/p>\n

The story would have been easy for Elizabeth to dismiss, had it not been told to her by Malcolm, who was the young boy in the car, working with Dr. Beckett during one of his summer vacations to America. And that was only the beginning. Malcolm spent years studying theories of time travel, parallel universes, and alternative dimensions in the belief that he\u2019d find an explanation. All he wound up with were theories and a deep suspicion about the town of Fawlt Line itself. There had been enough weird occurrences in the area\u2014Malcolm had chronicled and investigated them all\u2014for him to determine that Fawlt Line wasn\u2019t so named because it was on a geographical fault, but a time fault.<\/p>\n

Then, a few months ago, Elizabeth herself became a victim of the time fault.<\/p>\n

While taking a bath one night, she had slipped through a fracture in time and wound up in a parallel Fawlt Line where everyone knew her as a girl named Sarah. As she insisted that she was really Elizabeth and didn\u2019t know anyone there, she was taken to the hospital and treated as an amnesiac. The understandable pressure on her to become Sarah\u2014and to accept this new and different Fawlt Line\u2014was intense. There was no point in arguing against the reality directly in front of her, even though her memories told her otherwise. Alienated and confused, she very nearly gave in to the pressure to be Sarah.<\/p>\n

But the circumstances of her disappearance caused Malcolm to think that they weren\u2019t dealing with a normal disappearance. Too much didn\u2019t add up. And the arrival of someone in this Fawlt Line who looked exactly like Elizabeth but wasn\u2019t Elizabeth led Malcolm to work out a theory that she was some sort of \u201ctime twin\u201d who had switched places with Elizabeth.<\/p>\n

In that other time Elizabeth met a man who gave her hope that she wasn\u2019t an amnesiac after all: Charles Richards. He claimed he knew how she felt because he had made the same switch from one time to the other. He helped her and, ultimately, saved her life from a couple of people who wanted her dead. It was a nightmarish experience.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth eventually made it back thanks to Jeff and Malcolm. But Charles remained trapped in the parallel time.<\/p>\n

**********<\/p>\n

Elizabeth still got upset when she thought of Charles stuck in a time that wasn\u2019t his own. She hardly talked about her time-travel experience because of the sadness it brought to her. Even now, as she sat in the security of Malcolm\u2019s study, it made her uneasy to discuss it again. In the deepest part of her heart, she feared that the nightmare might return just by invoking its name.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey tore down Charles\u2019s house and built a gaudy mansion on the site,\u201d Malcolm went on to say. \u201cIt was the kind of place kids liked to throw rocks at. Then they tore that down and put up the new building a couple of years ago. How does it look inside?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth didn\u2019t answer, her mind still on Charles Richards and her own nightmarish adventure.<\/p>\n

\u201cBits?\u201d Jeff asked, concerned.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth lifted her head, catching up with Malcolm\u2019s question. \u201cHuh? It\u2019s \u2026 modern. Just one story with a lot of hallways. More like a hospital than a home.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff and Malcolm glanced warily at each other.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe you should take her home,\u201d Malcolm suggested. \u201cShe\u2019s probably tired from her first day there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, really\u2014I\u2019m all right,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Jeff stood up and held out his hand. \u201cCome on.\u201d<\/p>\n

She took his hand and he helped pull her to her feet.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Jeff brought his Volkswagen to a squeaky stop in front of Elizabeth\u2019s house and turned off the headlights. They both looked up and saw through the front window Alan Forde pacing in the living room. He was waving his hands and talking animatedly.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he lecturing someone?\u201d Jeff asked.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth shook her head. \u201cSort of. He\u2019s been recording a series of talks about the legends of King Arthur.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRecording them for whom?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoever wants them,\u201d she answered. \u201cHe\u2019s been obsessed with Arthur ever since … well, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

The \u2018you know\u2019 was a reference to yet another adventure\u2014this one shared by Jeff, Malcolm, and Alan Forde\u2014with a man who showed up in Fawlt Line one night claiming to be King Arthur himself. The adventure resolved itself in England where, according to Malcolm and Jeff who witnessed it all, the man really was King Arthur.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d like to hear what he has to say,\u201d Jeff said.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth glanced at Jeff gratefully. \u201cHe\u2019d be happy if you asked.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll wait for some other time. Meanwhile, I want you to tell me what\u2019s going on with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth hadn\u2019t expected such a direct question, though she should have. Jeff could always tell when something was wrong. Sometimes it was a comfort to her. At other times it made her feel uneasy, particularly when she didn\u2019t have an answer\u2014like tonight. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she said after a long pause.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou must have a clue,\u201d he probed.<\/p>\n

She turned in the seat to face him. \u201cI really don\u2019t know, Jeff. Maybe it\u2019s just volunteering at the center. It was so … strange. At first I thought it was because I don\u2019t know anything about helping old people. But …\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what?\u201d<\/p>\n

She struggled over what to say next. \u201cSheriff Hounslow\u2019s father is a resident there, and the two of them were arguing and it was embarrassing \u2026 and then I met a guy in a wheelchair who gave me a carnation, and he said he knew me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff grimaced. \u201cHe knows you? How?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe didn\u2019t say, and I was too surprised to ask. It was really weird. I had this feeling that I\u2019d seen him before, but I don\u2019t know where.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff took her hand in his and spoke softly. \u201cLook, Malcolm\u2019s probably right. Old folks can be unpredictable, and that makes you nervous. Do you remember how Grandpa Dubbs was before he died?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth nodded. \u201cHe kept accusing the servants of stealing things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause he kept forgetting where he put them,\u201d Jeff finished. \u201cIt used to scare the wits out of me when he launched into one of his tirades. Maybe the guy in the wheelchair really thought he knew you, but he was thinking of someone else. Probably someone from his past.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth agreed silently.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I\u2019m just guessing, but it gave you the creeps to find out that the retirement center was built on Charles Richards\u2019 place, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt brought back a lot more than I wanted to remember.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I figured.\u201d Jeff was quiet for a moment. His expression told Elizabeth that he was forming his words carefully before speaking. \u201cMaybe \u2026 you should get some counseling about what happened to you. Maybe we all should.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, right,\u201d Elizabeth said with an unamused laugh. \u201cI can see me now in the first session with the counselor: \u2018I\u2019m here because I traveled to a parallel time \u2026\u2019 Yeah, that\u2019ll work. He\u2019ll have me committed just like the doctor in that time wanted to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m just saying that getting bounced around in time and going through what you went through can\u2019t be healthy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re right about that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean, especially since you don\u2019t like to talk about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m okay,\u201d Elizabeth insisted. \u201cI think it\u2019s just today, volunteering at the center, bumping into some weird people, and then thinking about Charles Richards. I\u2019ll be all right. Really.\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Elizabeth had a hard time falling to sleep that night. Images of Charles Richards spun through her mind and mixed with scenes from the Fawlt Line Retirement Center. Mrs. Kottler kept saying, \u201cI know what you\u2019re thinking,\u201d and then Doug Hall offered her flowers carefully pruned by George Betterman in a wheelchair. The floor opened up to expose a dark cavernous time fault that threatened to pull her in. She fell\u2014and never stopped falling.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth suddenly sat up in her bed and knew that one way or another she had to take back her offer to volunteer at the center.<\/p>\n

Chapter Three<\/p>\n

Elizabeth spent most of the next day trying to figure out how to gracefully get out of helping at the retirement center. She knew her parents expected her to be more responsible than to quit without a good reason. The challenge was to find a good and plausible reason. School hadn\u2019t started yet, so she couldn\u2019t blame homework. She had no other jobs or commitments, so she couldn\u2019t say her schedule was too busy. One by one she raised up excuses. One by one her better judgment knocked them down.<\/p>\n

Even up to the point when her mother dropped her off at the center, she was thinking of stories she could tell Mrs. Kottler to justify handing in her immediate notice. Despondently, she kissed her mother on the cheek and climbed out of the car. Her only hope was that something might happen during her shift that would provide a solid way out.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Kottler gave her a simple assignment to start with: take the cart around and fill the water jugs in all the rooms.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth guessed that this was a standard job for new volunteers and a shrewd way to help them get to know the residents. Many were up and about when Elizabeth walked into the various rooms and assembly areas. It was her first full view of the people she would be mingling with. While some were kind and welcoming, others regarded her with wariness or skepticism. Just like kids on the first day of school, she thought. You can\u2019t tell about people until you get to know them better. That was a good way to think about them, she decided. They were just older kids watching a new student.<\/p>\n

But these \u201cstudents\u201d sure looked different from the ones at school. Elizabeth was instantly struck by the crowns of white hair and varying styles of hairpieces worn by both the men and women. Her next impression was that many were quite agile, moving quickly and freely up and down the hallway, in and out of chairs, without the stiff or stooped gait she expected from older people. Some used canes and walkers, others simply steadied themselves against whatever sturdy objects happened to be nearby. They\u2019re people, Elizabeth was reminded as they chatted amiably among themselves or played games in the recreation room or strolled thoughtfully alone. There were others, of course, who were less capable and needed more attention and care. Sharp minds were encased in fragile bodies. Sharp bodies sometimes encased fragile minds. It varied from room to room, person to person.<\/p>\n

The most uncomfortable moment came when she reached Adam Hounslow\u2019s room. The door was slightly ajar, and she could see through the crack that the room was dark. The blinds had been drawn, and Adam was talking to someone in a wheelchair. Though his back was to her, Elizabeth recognized the telltale baseball cap and knew it was George Betterman. The men spoke in low voices. Elizabeth was unsure whether to knock, clear her throat, or simply walk in. She paused in her indecision.<\/p>\n

Adam handed something to George, who quickly shoved it under his loose-fitting jogging jacket. The hushed voices and quick action told Elizabeth that she wasn\u2019t supposed to be seeing what she was seeing. She turned to sneak away, but banged the four-wheel cart against the wall. The jugs and glasses rattled, and the two men to spun around to face her.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry to interrupt,\u201d she stammered nervously, \u201cbut Mrs. Kottler asked me to bring some fresh water.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam looked particularly guilty. \u201cI don\u2019t need fresh water,\u201d he said with a sneer.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Elizabeth said again and retreated back into the hallway. With shaking hands, she grabbed the handle on the cart. Why was she so nervous? What was it about the men that scared her so?<\/p>\n

She heard a soft whirring sound behind her. Seconds later, George Betterman navigated his electric wheelchair past her, pausing to look up at her through the black circles of his sunglasses. I know who you are, she expected him to say again. But he didn\u2019t say a word. He rode away, down the hallway.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying to calm the irrational fear that gripped her. A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and she cried out, nearly jumping out of her skin.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoa, now, calm down,\u201d Sheriff Hounslow said. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to scare you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a little jumpy,\u201d Elizabeth admitted quickly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess you are. Is everything all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d she said. \u201cFirst-day jitters.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought yesterday was your first day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was. But that was a tour. Today is my first day of work. Excuse me,\u201d she said and raced away with the cart. Before she rounded the next corner, she heard the sheriff greet his father. Adam Hounslow launched the first assault by complaining about his room.<\/p>\n

Safe down the next hallway, she stopped again to take a deep breath. This is stupid, she told herself. There\u2019s nothing to be afraid of. It was just two old men talking. She rebuked herself for being so weird and, after a moment, continued her rounds.<\/p>\n

The rooms\u2014or apartments, as Mrs. Kottler called them\u2014varied in their looks. A few looked sterile and hospital-like. Others reflected attempts by the residents or their families to liven them up with a few sticks of furniture, knickknacks, mementos, souvenirs, and treasures. If awards were given for the homiest room, Frieda Schultz would have won hands down.<\/p>\n

From the moment Elizabeth stepped into Frieda\u2019s room, she felt transported out of the retirement center into a cozy bungalow. The room was colorful, with bright floral-patterned curtains, and lampshades, and the smell of a light perfume that made her think of purple flowers. A chaise-lounge had been placed in the corner, smothered with pillows that Frieda had probably made herself, Elizabeth guessed, and a quilt that looked older than anything or anybody in the center. The windowsill was covered with cards, fashion magazines, catalogues, and books by authors with names like Baroness Orczy and Georgette Heyer and Elswyth Thane\u2014people Elizabeth had never heard of. Victorian tapestries did their best to hide the institutional-white walls. An oak wardrobe with elaborately-carved edging along the top and bottom replaced the plain pressed-wood box the center issued. The matching bureau and vanity table, squeezed in along the opposite wall, were overrun with costume jewelry, evening purses, scarves, gloves, perfume bottles, jars, cold cream, tubes, magnifying mirror, boxes, silver combs, and brushes. It gave Elizabeth the impression that Frieda might suddenly decide to call her chauffeur and go out to the theater for the evening.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, I know, it\u2019s a cluttered mess,\u201d Frieda said from the bathroom door in the corner.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth realized she\u2019d been standing in the middle of the room, staring. \u201cI think it\u2019s wonderful,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, aren\u2019t you the kind one to say so.\u201d Frieda, a heavyset woman in a silk housecoat, sashayed into the room as if she were making an entrance at a formal ball dressed in chiffon and lace. Her beauty had faded, but she exuded a poise and charm that hadn\u2019t. \u201cTell me your name, child.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Elizabeth. I\u2019m here to give you some fresh water.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA new volunteer?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth nodded as she flipped open the top on the copper-colored jug. Empty. She retrieved the large jar from the cart and poured water from one to the other.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou must be traumatized,\u201d Frieda said. \u201cA pretty young girl like you thrown in with all these fossils. What in the world are you doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI volunteered through my church.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd regretted it every minute since, I\u2019ll bet,\u201d Frieda laughed.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth answered with a guilty smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf it\u2019s any consolation, I\u2019m very happy to meet you,\u201d said Frieda. \u201cI get so tired of old people. And you\u2019re a churchgoer too. All the better. I\u2019d go to church if it weren\u2019t such a major production to do so.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth was surprised. \u201cProduction? Why is it a production?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not about to bore you with my health problems. We have a chapel here that I can pray in. That\u2019ll do for now.\u201d Frieda pushed aside some of the pillows on the chaise-lounge. \u201cPut down those water jugs and come sit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Mrs. Kottler wants me to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cForget Mrs. Kottler,\u201d Frieda said. \u201cI want you to sit down right here and tell me all about yourself. I don\u2019t get to meet new people very often and, when I do, I want to know their stories.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth shyly sat down on the lounge.<\/p>\n

Frieda placed herself on the opposite end, leaned back and tucked one leg under her large frame. \u201cComfy? Now \u2026 what\u2019s your story?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth began slowly, with a few basic facts about growing up in Fawlt Like, her parents, her school. Soon, she was chatting away as if she couldn\u2019t help it. Any lull, any missing pieces, any evasion, and Frieda asked just the right question to set it straight and keep the conversation going. Elizabeth surprised herself by talking about more personal experiences: how her friendship with Jeff had eventually led to their dating.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you love him?\u201d Frieda asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I do,\u201d Elizabeth admitted, blushing.<\/p>\n

\u201cChildhood sweethearts,\u201d Frieda mused. \u201cMy Alexander and I were childhood sweethearts. We were married for forty-seven years. It wasn\u2019t always bliss, but I wouldn\u2019t have wanted to spend that time with anyone else.\u201d<\/p>\n

They continued to talk for another half-hour. At various points, Frieda would drop in her own memory of a similar experience she\u2019d had when she was Elizabeth\u2019s age. Elizabeth didn\u2019t mind. She found comfort in knowing that her experiences weren\u2019t unique only to her, but that a woman four times her age felt the same.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth glanced at her watch and stood up quickly. \u201cOh! I\u2019ve been here too long. Mrs. Kottler\u2019ll be looking for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWait,\u201d Frieda said and placed a soft hand on Elizabeth\u2019s arm. \u201cThere\u2019s something you haven\u2019t told me.\u201d Her gaze was penetrating.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Elizabeth asked feebly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have a sense about these things\u2014a gift, in a way. There\u2019s something you haven\u2019t told me. You\u2019re holding something back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth glanced away nervously. Frieda was right: Elizabeth hadn\u2019t mentioned her time-travel nightmare. Having made a friend in the center, she wasn\u2019t eager to lose her by talking like a lunatic. \u201cYeah, but it\u2019s too crazy. I can\u2019t talk about it now. Maybe some other time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frieda watched her for a moment, then decided to let the subject drop. \u201cAll right. We have time. Other days, other talks, and maybe you\u2019ll tell me about it. I feel that somehow you should tell me. Maybe there are secrets I can tell you too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth felt such an instant rapport with the older woman that she was tempted to take her invitation and pour out the whole tale on the spot. But just then Mrs. Kottler appeared in the doorway.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you are!\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cI\u2019ve been wondering what became of you. I need your help in the recreation room. There aren\u2019t enough judges for the Twister contest!\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Frieda insisted that Elizabeth could go only if she escorted her into the recreation room. \u201cMy ankles are hurting today,\u201d she complained and sat down in a wheelchair that was folded up behind the door.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth happily grabbed the wheelchair, clicked it into place, and whisked Frieda away, the smell of pretty perfume trailing back to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with your ankles?\u201d she asked as she pushed Frieda down the hall.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have occasional bouts with arthritis. Not today, actually, but I didn\u2019t want to let you go yet,\u201d Frieda replied.<\/p>\n

The recreation room was filled with residents, many of whom Elizabeth had seen on her rounds. They sat at the card tables, on the sofas and chairs, engaged in different games and hobbies. At the opposite end of the room, Elizabeth saw Doug Hall in earnest conversation with George Betterman.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d she said, without meaning to.<\/p>\n

Frieda turned around to look at Elizabeth\u2019s expression, then followed her gaze over to the two men. \u201cI see,\u201d she said with a smile. \u201cHandsome, isn\u2019t he? But watch out for him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry. I\u2019m with Jeff, remember?\u201d she reminded her newfound friend.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course you are. But one can\u2019t help but notice Doug,\u201d Frieda said. \u201cI\u2019m sure he\u2019s already flirted with you. No pretty girl goes through here without him pouring on the charm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI talked to him for a minute yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frieda smiled. \u201cUh huh. It\u2019s nice, isn\u2019t it\u2014having a handsome young man pay attention to you? Even if you know nothing will come of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust be certain that nothing does come of it, my dear,\u201d Frieda warned.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know his type. He\u2019s a charmer, and the charmers are the ones who can hurt you the worst.\u201d<\/p>\n

Doug and George Betterman parted, and George wheeled himself out to the patio.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth knelt closer to Frieda. The purple perfume lightly tickled her nose. \u201cDo you know Mr. Betterman?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

Frieda folded her arms across her chest as if she were trying to contain a shiver. \u201cAs much as I care to,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t like him?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know him well enough to like or dislike him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re evading my question,\u201d Elizabeth teased her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know him,\u201d she said carefully, \u201cbut I know my impressions.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019re your impressions?\u201d<\/p>\n

She thought for a moment. \u201cHow can I put it in terms you\u2019ll understand? He gives me the creeps. There\u2019s something about him that seems …\u201d Her voice trailed off.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth waited. When Frieda didn\u2019t continue, Elizabeth pressed her. \u201cSeems what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEvil.\u201d<\/p><\/div>\n

MY REVIEW:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Another installment in the Time Thriller Series, Memory’s Gate<\/a> chronicles new mysterious events at the retirement center in the town of Fawlt Line. When the sherrif’s own father Adam disappears, Elizabeth, Jeff, and Malcolm do everything they can to help find him and solve the puzzle.<\/p>\n

Once more the author explores the concept of time travel between parallel dimensions. I would recommend the series for young readers who are not already jaded by the TV shows, movies, and video games they are exposed to on a daily basis.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1444","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1444"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1444"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1444\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1451,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1444\/revisions\/1451"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1444"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1444"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1444"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}