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"You don't want to know. What matters is that I eventually met a man who promotes speakers in the Northwest. He didn't believe in me at first, but when I correctly predicted that a Sergeant York would kill two-dozen Germans and capture more than a hundred others on October 8, he booked two engagements in Tacoma. I've done at least two gigs a week ever since."

"How did you remember all the names and places and dates? I remembered only when the war ended."

"I'm a history student, remember? I had just finished a thesis on life in Washington in the years following World War I. I know this time period as intimately as I know my own. That knowledge has been my salvation."

"Are you OK now? Do you have a place to stay?"

"I'm fine. I have more than enough money to get by for the next year. I've even made a few friends – the good kind, not the creeps in the back row. But I miss it. I miss my life. I miss my fiancé. I miss my family. I want them back."

When Judy broke down and put her face in her hands, Grace reached into her purse and pulled out a handkerchief. She knew all about industrial-strength crying and knew that paper napkins weren't designed to stop that kind of flow. She handed Judy the cloth.

"Here you go."

"Thanks."

"I want to tell you that things will get better soon, but I can't," Grace said. "There are mornings I can't even get out of bed. I grieve for my husband and daughters every day. But I know at some point I will have to either move on or stop living. I too have made friends. I reside with a wonderful family. They are no substitute for what I lost, but they are something. I'm going to try hard to make a new life for myself. I strongly suggest that you do the same."

"You don't think there is any way back?"

Grace shook her head.

"The time portal is tied to both the theater and the movie. The Palladium manager told me that the theater is done with
Stella Maris
. It won't show it again for months, if ever. I pleaded with him to make an exception, but he said he was powerless to do anything. Other theaters have the film now."

"Oh, no. Please don't say that."

"I'm afraid it's the truth," Grace said. She sighed and frowned. "It gets worse too."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that time is running out. If you know the history of the theater, then you know that it won't be around much longer. An electrical circuit will fail in the early morning hours of March 3 and cause a fire. The Palladium will burn to the ground and any hope that either of us might have to return to our loved ones will vanish forever."

"I don't know if I can handle that," Judy said as she sobbed.

"You must. You must remain strong," Grace said. She pulled a pen and two slips of paper from the pocket of her coat. "I want you to write down your address and your telephone number, if you have one. Here is my address and number in Kenmore."

Judy wrote down her contact information and returned the slip to Grace.

"I think we are stuck here, Judy, and I believe we are both in for some difficult times. But even if we are, we can help each other and comfort each other. I want you to know that you can contact me at any time. I'm not going anywhere."

Grace smiled slightly and returned her hand to Judy's.

"Call me. I mean it."

"I will," Judy said. "I will."

CHAPTER 55: LUCY

Lucille Green hadn't acquired a lot of experience kissing boys at the Cornish Preparatory Academy in Falmouth, England, but she had acquired enough to know a good kisser from a bad one. Standing between two fir trees near the windowless maintenance building on the west end of the campus, she determined that Bill Vandenberg was a good one.

"You can hold me all day if you kiss me like that," she said with a giggle.

"Then I shall hold you all day. But we may both get rather cold and wet if I do."

"I don't care. I like kissing."

Bill laughed.

"Don't you have an ethics class this hour?"

"I do. I decided this morning that I was too ill to attend," Lucy said. She grinned and put her hands on her hips. "Besides, I'm in the arms of a soon-to-be-ordained Christian minister. I believe he is more than capable of teaching me right from wrong."

"What will I do with you?"

"Take me away from this dreadful place, of course."

"I thought you liked Seattle."

"I do. It's much better than England. But there is so much more out there. As I've told you many times, I want to see the world. I want to see places that I've only read about in your
National Geographic
magazine."

"You may get your wish, darling," Bill said. He grabbed her hands. "One reason I came to the university today was to further investigate the possibilities of overseas ministries. I learned that there are many opportunities, even now, in places like South America, Africa, and Asia."

"Ooh. I like the sound of that!"

"I do too. But we mustn't put the cart before the horse, as they say. I must first establish my bona fides with an American congregation and gain the experience I'll need to effectively preach the word of God to those who have not heard it."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

Lucy gave him a scolding glance.

"Me!"

Bill laughed and pulled her close.

"I haven't forgotten a thing. You will be a part of this every step of the way. We will be married as soon as the time is right and start living the life that we both want."

Bill put his hands on Lucy's face and kissed her softly.

"I plan to return to Minnesota in March to visit my family. I'd like you to come."

"I'd like to go."

"Do you think your uncle would approve?"

"He wouldn't approve if it meant leaving school. He made a promise to my father to see me through to graduation and I know he wants to keep it."

"When is the break between quarters?"

"It's the last week of March."

"Then we will leave the last week of March," Bill said. He looked at her intently. "I will wait as long as I must, Lucy Green. I love you. I want you on that train."

Lucy did not reply. She merely smiled at the handsome man who held her. She did not know the time and date she would board that train to Minnesota, but she did know one thing: the train she had sought for years was about to leave the station.

CHAPTER 56: GRACE

Seattle, Washington – Saturday, January 25, 1919

Grace adjusted the handkerchief wrapped around her head and wondered again what she had gotten herself into. John Walker had given new meaning to blind date.

"Is this what you did to the Germans when they didn't cooperate?"

The driver laughed.

"No. We usually just shot 'em. But none were as pretty as you, so I imagine you're safe."

"I'm placing a great deal of faith in you, Captain. You're not taking me to some unsavory establishment, are you?"

"I guess that depends on your definition of unsavory. I'm confident that this place will more than satisfy at least one of your tastes."

Grace smiled as she heard his reply. She knew she couldn't complain much about being taken hostage by a date to an unknown destination. She had all but kidnapped Joel on a day trip to Mount Rainier National Park in July 1941, though blindfolds had not been part of the act.

Not that Grace minded the prop. She needed some humor in her life after all she had been through. She also liked seeing the playful side of an Army officer whose sunny disposition had been numbed by the horrors of war.

When they finally rolled to a stop thirty minutes after leaving Kenmore, John turned off his 1918 Cadillac Type 57 Victoria coupe and applied the parking brake. He leaned to the right and removed the makeshift blindfold from his captive.

"We're here."

"Where's here?"

"We're at an unsavory establishment that came highly recommended."

Grace waited for John to get out of the car and help her exit the vehicle. When she stepped onto the parking lot and scanned her surroundings, she saw that they had traveled to what looked like the outskirts of Seattle.

Grace saw a few homes and businesses in the distance and heavy traffic on a nearby road but not much else. A sign on the building in front read: LAKE CITY LODGE. Lake City was an unincorporated part of King County that was popular with business owners who wanted to skirt Seattle's vice laws.

John offered an arm and escorted her to the lodge, a dilapidated brick structure that lacked visible windows but not gatekeepers. Two physically fit men stood near a darkened front door. When John said something to one of the men, he and Grace were allowed to pass.

"Are you ever going to tell me what we're doing, Mr. Mystery?"

"We're indulging, Miss Smith."

Grace followed John through the door and down a hallway to a lobby, where about a dozen people gathered. Music streamed from a large room. She ignored the heavy cigarette smoke and concentrated instead on the music, which was clear, familiar, and soothing.

"We're at a jazz joint," she said with a smile.

"You said you liked jazz. Well, this is as good as it gets, at least in Seattle."

When they walked into the large room, Grace noticed several African American performers on a small stage and a mostly white audience gathered around a dozen tables. A few others danced on a hardwood floor near the stage. Smoky, dimly lit, and bursting with energy, the place was a change of pace from the quiet cafes she and John had frequented for weeks.

"Shall we take a seat?" John said.

"Sure."

John and Grace found an unoccupied table near the back of the room. He helped her into a chair and asked if she wanted a cocktail. When she said that she didn't, he got one for himself and returned to the table. By the time he sat down, the establishment was packed.

"How does this place stay open?" Grace asked.

"I suspect through some generous contributions to local law enforcement," the captain said with a laugh. "Even then, it's not open all the time. The police raided the building last week."

Grace smiled at her tablemate.

"You're full of surprises, John Walker. I would have never guessed you were taking me to a den of sinful activity."

"Do you approve?"

"I approve," she said with an admiring glance. "I
definitely
approve. How did you know about this place?"

"A college friend told me about it. It used to be a ragtime hall and gin joint. Then the Anti-Saloon Leaguers took care of the gin. Now, it's a speakeasy that plays the music you love."

Grace nodded at the answer and then let mind her drift as she took stock of the facility. She didn't know much about this underground establishment, but she knew it reminded her of the Bigelow, a dance hall in Seaside, Oregon – a dance hall she had frequented with Joel Smith, Tom Carter, and Virginia Gillette on Labor Day weekend 1941.

How long ago that time seemed. The weekend had been a turning point for both couples. She and Joel had committed to each other in theory and Tom and Ginny had committed to each other in practice. Tom had proposed marriage after a mere five-month courtship, setting into motion a memorable, tragic autumn that would stay with Grace for the rest of her life.

"Is something wrong?" John asked.

"I'm fine. I was just thinking about something."

"Dare I ask what?"

Grace slid her hand across the table, touched his arm, and gazed at her date.

"I was just thinking about the last time I was in a place like this, the choices I've made in the past few years, and the choices I must make in the future."

John tilted his head and looked at Grace.

"I hope I can be a part of that future."

"Do you really want me? I wouldn't."

John smiled.

"I'd want you if I had my choice of all the women in the world, which, now that I've retired my cane, I probably do."

Grace laughed. Humor worked. Humor worked seven days a week. So did flattery, kindness, and generosity. But none of these things brought immediate clarity to her situation. A moment later, she returned to her quiet, reflective state.

"What's the matter, Grace? You seem lost."

"I am, a little. I have a lot on my mind."

"Is it something you can share?"

"No. Not yet. But I will someday. Right now, I'd like to do something else."

"What would that be?"

Grace displayed a warm smile and affectionate eyes.

"I'd like to dance, Captain."

Grace held out her hand. When John grabbed it and pulled her to her feet, she followed him to the front of the room. She did not have quite the spring in her step that she'd had in October, but she had more than enough to hold her own on a dance floor.

For three hours, the pregnant blonde and the Army officer put their troubles aside and danced to music that America was getting to know and appreciate. They danced to fast songs and slow songs and took breaks only when the performers took ones themselves.

As Grace Smith held John Walker in her arms, she wondered how many more nights there would be like this. She wondered what life would be like with this man and whether the time was finally right to move on. Less than four months had passed since her last night with Joel, but already it seemed like an eternity.

Grace knew she didn't have the answers. She didn't know what she should do with her life or whether she could ever completely abandon hope of returning to the future. She knew only that she would have to make some important decisions soon, probably in the next few months, and stand by them as if her life depended on them, because, as a practical matter, it probably did.

At eleven o'clock, John and Grace took to the floor one last time as the female vocalist put her stamp on "After You've Gone," a song made popular by Turner Layton. When she finally finished, John put his hand on her chin and lifted her head.

This time there was no grandfather clock to disrupt the moment and no dinner to prepare, only an opportunity that would not be squandered. When most of the others began to leave the floor, John put his hands on her face and kissed her sensitively and passionately.