“Just simple pasta should be fine.”
“Cool. Be right back. Make yourself at home.”
Thelma collapsed against the table once she was alone. She tried to cry—really, wouldn’t it be helpful if she couldcry?Get some of this disbelief, this fear, out of her system? Except every time she attempted to cry, she hit a wall. It was like nothing was going on in her head. No thoughts. No memories of her own life… all of which had apparently transpired several decades ago.
She opened her purse and pulled out her wallet. From it, she counted five dollars, some change, and her punch cards that must have expired by now. Did Digby’s Gas ‘n’ Go even still exist? Could she still drive her Chevy Impala?
How did Bill get around without it?As a city planner, he made a point of taking the bus and train to and from work, but there were weekend trips with the kids.
The kids…
Thelma dragged herself away from her things on the table and opened the drawer by the bed. Inside, she found the Bible she had spotted earlier. It was a King James translation that hurt Thelma’s brain to look at—her Lutheran church preferred a plainer text.
She opened to the Epistle of James in the New Testament. As her tired eyes rested on the older English, she detached from the words, their meaning, and everything that still tethered her to the waking world.
When her eyes focused again, she read James 1.
My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations;
Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.
But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.
Thelma was so tired she could hardly parse this translation, but her mother was a fan of the Epistle of James and had many of the quotes in the Revised Standard Version around her home. Thelma had inherited some, including James:1. It hung in the hallway between the living room and kitchen, serving as a reminder that one facing adversity should rejoice, for it meant she was becoming more steadfast, more perfect.
For years, Thelma came to terms with her relationship with religion—and God, for that matter. She had always been a fan of Jesus Christ, but much of church life didn’t sit well with her. Her family didn’t go to the local Lutheran church as much as they should have.Bill was raised a Baptist…He agreed to join Lutheranism as part of the marriage negotiations, which had shown Thelma how little he cared for the church, too. Their only reason for going was for appearances, and so the children could attend Sunday school. Yet Thelma prayed, and Bill was always generous with the offering basket. They both volunteered their time for community events. Thelma hung quotes on thefamily walls and had taught Robbie to read when he was six.He learned from his Bible Picture Stories and would “read” them to me while I cooked lunch.Debbie in her highchair. Thelma with a rolling pin and her hair up in a bun and a handkerchief, on the verge of tears because Robbie sounded out “David” all by himself.
Adversity… makes us stronger… adversity… makes us steadfast.
She crumbled on the bed, the Gideon bible wrapped in her arms and pressed against her chest. As her heels clicked down on the carpet, she rolled over, finally unleashing the tears that heralded her acknowledgment that something deeply,profoundlyterrible had happened to her.
Yet she was here. She was healthy. If God were real, then He had a plan. Even Jesus would tell her that she would find a way through the fog of adversity. She merely had to ask for help and be prepared to help in turn.
Tomorrow.Tomorrow, no more tears. Only her head held high as she faced adversity.
Chapter four
Old/Same
Thelma was offered a change of clothing in the morning, but she declined. The shirts were too casual, and the sweatpants… well, they were sweatpants.Absolutely not.
Miriam claimed to understand after seeing what Thelma had worn during a simple day at home. Thelma was not happy about wearing dirty clothing, including her brassiere, but she did accept a pair of clean cotton underwear, which she admitted slipped beneath her clothing as if it wasn’t even there. Beyond that, she would still don her dress, coat, and gloves. She would brush her hair, decrying the fact that her curls were coming undone. She had some powder and lipstick in her purse, which was just enough to do up her face for another meeting with the FBI agents.
She was immediately greeted with news once she was escorted into a more comfortable meeting room. Agents Wilcox and Thornwood sat her down on a starchy couch while Agent Ortiz stood by the door.
What could it be?Had they found a way to send her home?
“We have good news, Mrs. Van der Graaf,” said Agent Wilcox. “We’ve found your son.”
Thelma’s gloved fingers pressed against her chest. “Robbie?”
“Yes. Robert Van der Graaf. He’s a resident of Van Nuys, so it didn’t take us long to track him down once we had your information. He’s en route to the facility as we speak.”
“You mean… I will…”
“It’s our goal to reunite travelers with their families. In your case, finding one of your children was the best-case scenario, considering how much time has passed. Ideally, we would like to release you into his care, but it will depend on whether he can handle it or not.”
“What does that mean, exactly? Does he know?”
