“And I didn’t find this story in the Enterprise because?”

“It didn’t happen around here. It happened in Derry, upstate. When Harry was well enough to get out of the hospital, he went to live with his uncle and aunt in Haven, about twenty-five miles south of Derry. They adopted him and put him to work on the family farm when it became clear he couldn’t keep up in school.”

“Sounds like Oliver Twist, or something.”

“No, they were good to him. Remember there were no remedial classes in those days, and the phrase ‘mentally challenged’ hadn’t been invented yet—”

“I know,” Al said dryly. “Back then, mentally challenged means you’re either a feeb, a dummy, or just plain addlepated.”

“But he wasn’t then and he isn’t now,” I said. “Not really. I think mostly it was the shock, you know? The trauma. It took him years to recover from that night, and by the time he did, school was behind him.”

“At least until he went back for his GED, and by then he was middle-aged going on old.” Al shook his head. “What a waste.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “A good life is never wasted. Could it have been better? Yes. Can I make that happen? Based on yesterday, maybe I can. But that’s really not the point.”

“Then what is? Because to me this looks like Carolyn Poulin all over again, and that case is already proved. Yes, you can change the past. And no, the world doesn’t just pop like a balloon when you do it. Would you pour me a fresh cup of coffee, Jake? And get yourself one while you’re at it. It’s hot, and you look like you could use one.”

While I was pouring the coffee, I spied some sweet rolls. When I offered him one, he shook his head. “Solid food hurts going down. But if you’re determined to make me swallow calories, there’s a six-pack of Ensure in the fridge. In my opinion it tastes like chilled snot, but I can choke it down.”

When I brought it in one of the wine goblets I’d spied in his cupboard, he laughed hard.

“Think that’ll make it taste any better?”

“Maybe. If you pretend it’s pinot noir.”

He drank half of it, and I could see him struggling with his gorge to keep it down. That was a battle he won, but he pushed the goblet away and picked up the coffee mug again. Didn’t drink from it, just wrapped his hands around it, as if trying to take some of its warmth into himself. Watching this, I recalculated the amount of time he might have left.

“So,” he said. “Why is this different?”

If he hadn’t been so sick, he would have seen it for himself. He was a bright guy. “Because Carolyn Poulin was never a very good test case. You didn’t save her life, Al, only her legs. She went on to have a good but completely normal existence on both tracks—the one where Cullum shot her and the one where you stepped in. She never married on either track. There were no kids on either track. It’s like . . .” I fumbled. “No offense, Al, but what you did was like a doctor saving an infected appendix. Great for the appendix, but it’s never going to do anything vital even if it’s healthy. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“Yes.” But I thought he looked a little peeved. “Carolyn Poulin looked like the best I could do, buddy. At my age, time is limited even when you’re healthy. I had my eyes on a bigger prize.”

“I’m not criticizing. But the Dunning family makes a better test case, because it’s not just a young girl paralyzed, terrible as something like that must have been for her and her family. We’re talking about four people murdered and a fifth maimed for life. Also, we know him. After he got his GED, I brought him down to the diner for a burger, and when you saw his cap and gown, you paid.

Remember that?”

“Yeah. That’s when I took the picture for my Wall.”

“If I can do this—if I can stop his old man from swinging that hammer—do you think that picture will still be there?”

“I don’t know,” Al said. “Maybe not. I might not even remember it was there in the first place.”

That was a little too theoretical for me, and I passed it without comment. “And think about the three other kids—Troy, Ellen, and Tugga. Surely some of them will get married if they live to grow up. And maybe Ellen becomes a famous comedian. Doesn’t he say in there that she was as funny as Lucille Ball?” I leaned forward. “The only thing I want is a better example of what happens when you change a watershed moment. I need that before I go monkeying with something as big as the Kennedy assassination. What do you say, Al?”

“I say that I see your point.” Al struggled to his feet. It was painful to watch him, but when I started to get up, he waved me back. “Nah, stay there. I’ve got something for you. It’s in the other room. I’ll get it.”

7

It was a tin box. He handed it to me and told me to carry it into the kitchen. He said it would be easier to lay stuff out on the table. When we were seated, he unlocked it with a key he wore around his neck. The first thing he took out was a bulky manila envelope. He opened it and shook out a large and untidy pile of paper money. I plucked one leaf from all that lettuce and looked at it wonderingly. It was a twenty, but instead of Andrew Jackson on the face, I saw Grover Cleveland, who would probably not be on anyone’s top ten list of great American presidents. On the back was a locomotive and a steamship that looked destined for a collision beneath the words FEDERAL

RESERVE NOTE.

“This looks like Monopoly money.”

“It’s not. And there’s not as much there as it probably looks like, because there are no bills bigger than a twenty. These days, when a fill-up can run you thirty, thirty-five dollars, a fifty raises no eyebrows even at a convenience store. Back then it’s different, and raised eyebrows you don’t need.”

“This is your gambling dough?”

“Some. It’s mostly my savings. I worked as a cook between ’58 and ’62, same as here, and a man on his own can save a lot, especially if he don’t run with expensive women. Which I didn’t. Or cheap ones, for that matter. I stayed on friendly terms with everybody and got close to nobody. I advise you to do the same. In Derry, and in Dallas, if you go there.” He stirred the money with one thin finger. “There’s a little over nine grand, best I can remember. It buys what sixty would today.” I stared at the cash. “Money comes back. It stays, no matter how many times you use the rabbit-hole.” We’d been over this point, but I was still trying to get it through my head.

“Yeah, although it’s still back there, too—complete reset, remember?”

“Isn’t that a paradox?”

He looked at me, haggard, patience wearing thin. “I don’t know. Asking questions that don’t have answers is a waste of time, and I don’t have much.”

“Sorry, sorry. What else have you got in there?”

“Not much. But the beauty of it is that you don’t need much. It was a very different time, Jake. You can read about it in the history books, but you can’t really understand it until you’ve lived there for awhile.” He passed me a Social Security card. The number was 005-52-0223. The name was George T. Amberson. Al took a pen out of the box and handed it to me. “Sign it.” I took the pen, which was a promotional giveaway. Written on the barrel was TRUST YOUR