Once Beyond a Time (34 page)

“I don’t know,” Sheldon admits. “Outside of time, maybe? But I don’t know where that would be.”

“He told me he hasn’t been anywhere, that he’s just been right here all along. I think he thinks it’s the day he disappeared.”

“You suppose he has no memory of … anything?”

“He doesn’t seem to.”

Digger tugs on Sheldon’s sleeve. “What are you guys talking about?
Why are you saying I disappeared and don’t remember?”

His wide eyes flit between me and his Dad, looking fearful. Sheldon kneels in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder. He starts to say something, stops, shakes his head. “We have some explaining to do, Digger,” he says quietly. “Something has happened, and we’ll tell you all about it. But don’t worry, everything’s all right. Everything’s fine now.”

Digger’s face relaxes and he shrugs. “Okay,” he says. He points to the tooth in Sheldon’s hand. “So do I get the nickel or don’t I?”

Sheldon closes his fist over the tooth and laughs. “Of course you do, Digger,” he says, hugging the boy to himself again. “We’ll put the tooth under your pillow tonight.”

Our joy is interrupted by a scream and Linda running toward us in her nightgown. “Digger!” she cries. “Digger, you’re here! I can’t believe you’re really here!”

She too kneels in the grass and throws her arms around her brother. Digger scrunches up his face and tries to wiggle away. “Hey, knock it off,” he mutters. “What’s the matter with you anyway? You’re—” He stops and his eyes grow wide. “Carl!”

Carl is coming toward us now, walking barefoot across the grass, wearing only a pair of shorts and an undershirt. Instead of shouting like Linda, he is quiet, like someone in shock. He reaches Digger and drops to the ground, his naked knees making dents in the grass. He looks from Digger, to Sheldon, to me. “Then it’s true,” he says. “About the house.”

“Yes,” Sheldon says.

Carl smiles and takes Digger’s hand. “Hey buddy, you’re home.”

“
I’m
home?” Digger replies. “You’re funny, Carl! You’re the one that came home. I didn’t even know you were coming back. Why didn’t somebody tell me you were coming?”

“I don’t know, Digger. I guess we wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you sure did! And now we’re all here and we’re all together! Isn’t that great? Ma says we can have a party!”

Carl reaches out and ruffles his little brother’s hair. And then he pulls Digger to him and wraps him up in a hug so tight it looks like he’s never going to let go.

Sheldon reaches for me and takes my hand. Linda’s arm is around my shoulder. My sons are hugging each other; their laughter fills the morning air.

Thank God. Thank God.

We are all home now, and we are all together.

To God let votive accents rise;
With truth, with virtue, live;
So all the bliss that Time denies
Eternity shall give.

—John Quincy Adams, The Hour-Glass

Summer 2007

D
IGGER SOMEHOW SLIPPED
in between time or out of time or above time or perhaps even below time—we don’t exactly know, and it doesn’t much matter. What matters is that he came back, or was allowed back or was brought back. We’re not sure of that either. Digger had no memory of what happened for a long time. When he was grown, his mind began to offer up snatches of something he said was beyond his ability to describe, though he did say it was like nothing he’d seen before or has seen since. I for one believe that from his vantage point somewhere out of time, what he saw was heaven—from a distance, of course, just a glimpse of things to come.

Digger’s unexpected return made him something of a legend in his own time as he slipped back into the routine of life in Black Mountain. The townsfolk were understandably amazed that, after so many months, he was alive, unharmed, and very much the same little boy who had disappeared without a trace. Not only in our own town but also across the county, he became known as The Miracle Boy Who Survived the Mountains. Of course, it wasn’t that at all, but who could explain? His parents—rather like the mother of Jesus—had to ponder certain mysteries in their hearts without giving too much away to others.

The day Digger came home was the day the star disappeared for good. That night, as a family, the five of them stepped out after dark to take what would be their last look at the star. The star had already faded some, like Meg said, as though it were being pulled back into history. But that night, even as they gazed at it, its light simply vanished like a candle blown out. It had finished what it came for.

The Cranes stayed in the house until 1974 when Sheldon accepted the call to pastor a church full-time in Asheville. After that, he left the used car lot for good and never looked back. He and Meg moved with Digger to Asheville, where Sheldon served the church until his death in 1999. Over the years, the house in Black Mountain was rented out to a number of folks, but no one spoke of anything strange happening there, and thankfully Vernita Ponder was able to die without her hometown being overrun by curiosity seekers. Not until 2005, when Gavan Valdez bought the house, did anything unusual happen within its walls, but Gavan for one wasn’t about to let the news get around town. When Mrs. See sent me to him and he hired me to take care of Nicholas, I assured him I would keep the secret.

I worked for Mr. Valdez until the summer of 2006 when his wife came home from Iraq. Having fulfilled her duty, she left the National Guard to raise her family, which came to include two more children over time.

That same summer I got married and went on working for the elderly woman in Asheville, who Meg thought of as Mrs. See. Funny thing was, it wasn’t Mrs. See—it was Mrs. “C,” which was what I always called her. The C was short for Crane. For Margaret See was, and is, Meg Crane; for some reason the Meg of 1968 was allowed to speak to the Meg of 2005, through me. Or perhaps vice versa, as Mrs. C was the one offering advice to Meg, knowing full well she was talking to herself—or rather, the person she had been some thirty-five years before.

Which was a gift perhaps many of us could use, if only we were allowed to hear words of comfort and advice from our future selves. But we are not, most of us. Most of us must live by blind faith, so to speak, because these temporal eyes of ours can’t see the future. We can live in the now and remember the past, but we have to trust the future to the One who is already there, and who has at least told us in his Word that we’re moving toward a happy ending. That’s all we’re allowed to know, but it’s enough, don’t you think?

So now I’m pouring a couple of tall glasses of sweet tea for Mrs. C and myself, as it’s a hot summer day, and she’s already waiting for me to join her in the rocking chairs on the porch.

“Celeste?” I hear her call.

“Yes, Mrs. C?”

“Digger just sent some more pictures of the grandkids to my phone. You’ve got to come out and see them!”

“I’ll be right there!”

I carry the tea to the porch where I find Meg Crane peering at her cell phone and smiling over the grandchildren that once upon a time she thought she would never have.

“Well now, aren’t they the fine-looking crew,” I say as I sit in the chair beside her.

We will no doubt be out here for much of the afternoon where we like to drink our tea and talk and remember and wonder and marvel and just spend time. So long as the clocks are ticking, we will spend our time gratefully, knowing the hours have wings that carry us home.