Free From Time to Time by Jack Finney Page A

understood that.
    I said, "Julia, I'd like nothing more than to just forget the Project. If I'd only been able to do what I tried to do. I sat thinking about that. "As I almost did, God damn it.
    "Do not take the Lord's name in vain, she said automatically.
    "If I'd done it. If I'd got to the theater just minutes earlier . .
    I smiled at her, and shrugged. "I could have stayed right here then, content forever. But it keeps coming up in my mind, Jule:
    What is Rube doing with the Project? What is he up to! It may be a kind of duty to go and find out.
    She leaned toward me over the table. "Then go. Get it over with. She sat back, keeping her face pleasant, and said gently, "But come back.
    "House, said Willy on the floor. He was sitting, his back against the wall, legs straight out, turning the linen pages of one of his picture books, touching each and every picture with a fat little forefinger and saying or trying to say its name. He was over three now; talking and edging toward reading as fast as he could go. He was fun, and of course Julia and I looked over at him now, then at each other to smile: we'd made this little man.
    "I might not be able to go back.
    "Oh? Why? She sliced into her waffle with a fork.
    "I was in the Central Park a couple weeks ago. Sketching the swan boats for last week's issue.
    "Yes. I believe I'd like to frame that one.
    "Yeah, it's a good one. But while I was there, walking along near the Dakota, it got dark, and I glanced up at my old apartment. I always do.
    "So do I. I had Willy there a week or so ago, and I showed it to him.
    "You didn't tell him-
    "Of course not. Just said Daddy once lived there.
    "Well, when I looked up at it, the windows were lighted. People living there. I couldn't use it to go back.
    "Is there no other vacant?
    "Wouldn't help; it might be occupied in the twentieth century, no way to tell. To go back, I'd need a new Gateway, Jule, a place that exists in both times, so that --
    "I know, Si, I know.
    "Well, Einstein said-
    "I do not want to hear about Einstein again. Or Gateways, or anything el-
    "He's alive, you know.
    "Who?
    "Einstein. She put both hands over her ears, and I smiled. "Just think, he's alive at this very moment. Still a little kid, I think. Maybe about Willy's age. Playing somewhere in Germany right now, and already thinking thoughts beyond me. Maybe looking at a book and saying, Haus.'
    "Would you like another waffle?
    "Gotta leave. I pushed back my chair, and Julia stood, turning to scoop up Willy and carry him to the front windows to wave goodbye, important to him and to me.
    Today I didn't walk to work; coming down the front steps, I saw a cab waiting across the Park and decided to take it, turning to wave to Willy, grinning at me behind the window, flapping his hand. Then I walked over to the cab. I wore a derby, and my brown suit.
    At the cab I said, "Leslie's, waiting to see if he knew where it was. He did, and I climbed in as he got down to take away the horse's leather feed bag. "Take Broadway, I called to him, and settled back.
    I liked the cabs. They weren't quite comfortable; big leaf springs, very stiff, and you moved along steadily but in a just barely perceptible series of jerks froiri the slow trot of the horse. Some people didn't like that, but it didn't bother me. They were likely to be dirty, too, and even smell a little. Julia and I once piled into one after the theater, and got right out again. But this one was okay, and I liked the snug way the double doors closed down over your lap.
    The day was sunless, no sky, just an even grayness, almost whiteness, a light fall of snow on the ground. Been gray like this for a week, not cold. We turned west on Twentieth Street, and I sat back. I knew it was true, that I was afraid of returning to my own time. Afraid of what I'd find happening at the Project, what dreadful thing I'd he helpless to stop. Stay here, stay here, my mind told me; what you don't know wont hurt you.
    Down Fourth Avenue . . .