Page 35 of Destiny Reclaimed
His dad nodded. “I figured you would. Let’s go in the study and talk while I show you something.”
Jack’s jaw nearly hit the floor when he entered the room. The train set they’d put together when he was a kid, and took down when he was a teenager, had been reassembled and expanded. The track wove around the entire room, low on the floor, and then up among the bookshelves lined with periodicals. There was even a bridge built above his large, mahogany desk. Even more spectacular was how he managed to wrap the track to go around the freestanding globe that stood in front of the large bay window.
With his hands on his hips, his dad eyed his handiwork. “I finally finished what we’d set out to do when you were a kid.” He laughed. “I wanted to wait for you to come home so we could work on it together, but I couldn’t help myself. I got the boxes out, and before I knew it, I was done.” A melancholy look overtook his father. “I think doing this helped me get through you being gone. I can’t begin to tell you how much your mother and I worried about you.” His father’s voice cracked, and his eyes watered.
His father was the strongest and most genuine person he knew.
Emotion overtook him, and he pulled his dad into a firm embrace.
It felt like a couple of minutes passed before his father pulled away and wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Let’s turn this thing on, shall we,” his dad offered as he stepped over to the train station and pressed the power button.
Jack wasn’t sure how long they stood there in silence watching the train make its revolutions, but he welcomed the tranquility it brought.
The horn blew, knocking him out of his serenity, but his dad’s laughter kept the harmony alive. Who would have thought this well-reserved man, at almost seventy years old, would enjoy playing with trains?
His dad blew the horn one more time before he shut the train off, walked over to his desk, and took a seat behind it.
The serious spot.
Throughout his entire life, whenever anything serious needed to be discussed. That’s where his father sat to do it.
Jack took a seat in the leather chair opposite the desk and watched as his dad adjusted his glasses and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the surface of the desk. It was the same maneuver he’d seen countless times.
“I’ll answer your questions, but I’m afraid I won’t have all the answers you desire. This Preserver and Protector time travel business is complex and appears to be a work in progress. I’ve yet to come across a book of answers. One would think I’d have answers to everything since I’ve been at it for almost forty years, but it’s just not that easy. I didn’t get much prep from your Grandpa Charles. He’d spoken very little of it before he passed away, so it was kind of sprung on me. Luckily, I was able to rely on my Protectors for some guidance. Truth be told, if I knew my old body wouldn’t let me down, I wouldn’t have relinquished my power to you yet. Just to save you the grief.”
“So, it’s all bad?” he questioned.
“No. I shouldn’t have said it like that. The physical work is hard. I guess emotionally it can be hard as well. But, it’s also a blessing in disguise, too. Not many people get to see and spend time with loved ones who’ve passed on, and ancestors we never met in real life. I can’t begin to tell you the things I’ve witnessed and learned, and the impacts it has had on my life.” His dad paused and stared off into space for several beats.
“But?” he questioned, bringing his father back to their conversation at hand.
“But, with great rewards come great risk. Think about what happens if we—Preservers—fail at a mission. One little change of the past can affect so many things in the future.”
“The Butterfly Effect.”
“Exactly. With as much of a privilege, it is to be a time traveler Preserver, it’s equally a burden that bears vast responsibility. Once in, you have to stay the course which requires unremitting vigilance.”
Jack nodded in understanding. He’d already seen firsthand how difficult and dangerous a mission could be when he was plucked out of his life, right in front of Gwennie and her parents, and tossed into the midst of WWII. He still wondered if his father knew for sure he’d already been on a mission. And his mother. Did she know about her husband being a Preserver?
“Do other people know about us?” he asked.
His dad’s gaze landed on Jack’s ear—the stitches on his lobe, and he studied them for a moment before responding. “No. The code is secrecy. That was one of the first things my father told me, and my Protector reiterated. She said the Gods frown upon non-compliance, and bad things can happen to those who don’t follow the rules of engagement. I believed her, so I’ve lived by her warnings. Plus, I guess I didn’t want to find out the hard way if she was right or wrong.”
“So, even Mom doesn’t know?”
His dad shook his head. “I’ve never told her, never actually came out and said the words...but somehow I think she knows.” His dad’s gaze returned to his stitched earlobe. “Most missions tend to leave little clues that are sometimes hard to explain.”
Jack placed his fingertips to his ear and caressed the ragged stitches. “A life of lies with the one person you should be able to share everything with,” he said.
His father nodded. “It’s all part of the sacrifices Preservers make to preserve history. The alternative is worse. Don’t you think? Imagine if I, my father, grandfather, and so on, had allowed even the tiniest of details to change. We may not be sitting here today. You may not be preparing to marry Gwendoline. Your mother or I could have died on the Italian Front. Or worse, imagine the potential impacts to others—the American people if we fail to preserve history. Imagine if you will, the potential consequences if your grandfather, who fought with Theodore Roosevelt and the Rough Riders to take Kettle Hill, was suddenly not there, and one of our Dupont nemeses was. Would the outcome have been the same? Imagine if Roosevelt had died on that hill because Edgar Dupont stole your grandfather’s life and took his place during that battle. Who then would have been the twenty-sixth president? As a consequence of that, how would America look today? I know that sounds like an extreme example, but we just don’t know the outcomes of a change, even the slightest of modifications, which is why it is so important to keep history on track. Do you understand?”
Jack nodded. He understood all right. His lungs drained and his shoulders slumped from the weight of responsibility bestowed upon him to preserve history and carry such a significant secret; thereby, lying to the one person he wanted to share everything with. From the beginning, he’d be lying to Gwennie.
