“At first, I blamed those adults for telling me,” said Francine. “Most of all, I blamed myself. If I hadn’t warned my parents, they might’ve gone to the carnival a different day, and everything would’ve been fine.” She looked pointedly at Adam. “But then again, maybe it wouldn’t have been. Because when you think about it, the travelers warned me of what was to come—but what was to come had been recorded in history. So there wasn’t any changing it. Not really.”
A lump grew in Adam’s throat. “Either way, it wasn’t your fault.”
Francine nodded. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. I didn’t understand it for a while, why things happen the way they do. I still don’t. But I’m okay now. I have a loving family and a good job. I’ve been okay for a long time. And one day, you will be too.”
Anger coursed through Adam’s insides. “No, the past has to be changed,” he said in frustration. “It has to! We can stop accidents. We can even prevent wars, maybe. We can get our parents back!”
“Even if you can alter the past, something else would happen in its place,” said Francine. “What if you’ll want to change that too? You’ll end up chasing the past until the day you die, without ever treasuring the golden moments of the present.”
Adam didn’t know what would happen if he managed to prevent the plane crash. Would the months and years after the crash disappear? Would time reset, and take him back to when he was five—back to their house in the suburbs, his parents alive this time?
But then the last seven years wouldn’t have existed.
Adam thought of his uncle. He thought of the time he and Uncle Henry tried to make the world’s tallest stack of pancakes in their apartment, and how it toppled just before it reached the ceiling. They had spent the rest of the morning laughing and eating and cleaning up the mess. He thought of every Christmas, when they’d stroll around Manhattan and listen to the holiday music piping from storefronts, until they both grew tired of hearing the tunes. Then they’d go home and Uncle Henry would make a batch of his special homemade cupcakes topped with candy cane sprinkles.
He thought of the simple days in the winter, when snow fell on everything and the entire city had a hushed feel. He’d stay indoors by the warm heater, playing chess or cards with Uncle Henry, or simply lolling on the floor with a blanket and a good book. He thought of Victor and listening to his brilliant stories out in the sunshine. He thought of the random strangers he’d met on the street, and the time someone dropped a wallet, which he returned.
Adam didn’t say anything. Francine reached into her coat and revealed a handful of Bittersweet Bonbons. She handed the bunch to Adam. He brightened momentarily when he saw the delicious candies, but his mood was still cloudy. He kicked a pile of snow at his feet.
“You’ll get your head around this one day,” said Francine. “You’re a smart kid.” She nodded at the snow globe. “Time to go home.”
Adam glanced at the empty snow globe on the ground. “Not yet,” he said. “You said I’m here to comfort you about something.”
“And you have. I have a good life, Adam, but every now and then we all feel a little lonely. You’ve reminded me I’m not alone. And you aren’t alone, either.” Francine stood and put Adam’s file in her briefcase. “I’ll see what I can do. Just for you. I’ll give the town’s fire department a phone call. But you shouldn’t dwell on the past, Adam. You are who you are today because of it.”
Her gaze fell on the snow globe. “Imagine, such an innocent thing can hold so much power.” She chuckled. “I have a feeling many people would love to get their hands on it—some for far more devious reasons than yours. They’d be disappointed to learn it won’t do much for them.”
She gently took the snow globe to examine it. Adam lunged forward, but it was too late. He watched in horror as the bright snow confetti swirled inside the glass.
Instead of vanishing, however, Francine simply stood there. Nothing happened. They both watched the sparkling confetti snowstorm inside the glass.
“It only works for specific people, I guess,” Francine said, looking relieved.
A thought occurred to Adam. “The other time travelers, the ones you met in your childhood. They gave you the cassette player.”
“That’s right. They felt terrible about what happened to my parents. They felt terrible they couldn’t do more, for me and for my friends. They gave us the player on one of their last trips, and as many batteries as they could carry. The other children and I played those tapes till they frayed.”
Then another thought struck Adam, this time, like a firework. “The couple. Did they…did they look like…?” He was suddenly at a loss for words.
Francine looked at him curiously. Then she leaned forward, peering at the boy as a great smile crossed her face.
“Yes, I believe so. Yes, that makes perfect sense.” Francine reached out and grabbed Adam’s hand. “Thanks for being a good friend, Adam. Your parents would be proud of you.”
Francine placed the swirling snow globe back in Adam’s hands. Before he could reply, Francine and Central Park disappeared.
Adam was back in his bedroom, the snow globe and Bittersweet Bonbons in his hands.
CHAPTER TWENTYDISTINCTIVELY DECEMBER
Winter is the one time of year when everything slows down, willingly or otherwise. Animals are naturally aware of the season’s lethargic effects and promptly respond by hibernating in a cozy area until warmer weather comes. Humans, strangely enough, tend to ignore the slump altogether by working the same as they always have, if not more. In the northern hemisphere especially, it is strange
