The Starlite Ballroom

smiled like a Cheshire cat. "Don't question it Emma, just believe. You've been given what you asked for – a chance to relive a portion of your life. Enjoy yourself."

  “Enjoy myself! How can I possibly enjoy myself when I think I’m losing my mind?

  The young man turned toward the side of the hall. "Your friends are coming. They know nothing about this. To them you are the Emma of sixty years ago.” He looked back at her sternly. “You must not tell them otherwise.”

  Emma was speechless. How was she to respond to that? And what did he mean, her friends were coming?

  “I must go now."

  She grasped his hands. "No! You can't leave me here!"

  The man smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. And have fun. I'll be close by if you need me." With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd of dancers.

  "No, wait!" Emma started to follow, but was distracted by someone approaching from the wings. A young woman was waving frantically at her. Emma stared wide-eyed and gasped in disbelief.

  My God it's Millie! But it was the Millie of 1945. Her hair was brown again and ridiculously curved in loops the size of cucumbers. She wore a calf-length dress like Emma, though sea foam green with poofy shoulders. Her lipstick was so red it looked like she’d eaten a candied apple.

  "Where ya been Emms? I've been lookin’ all over for ya."

  Emma stared speechless at the youthful face of her best friend.

  "Emma? You O.K.? You look kinda glassy-eyed."

  The shock finally faded to where she could speak. "What? No … I'm fine. This is just all so … incredible. I can't believe I'm really here."

  Millie stuffed a chunk of pink bubble gum in her mouth and began to chew. "Yeah, I know what ya mean. Kay Kyser right here in our very own Ballroom."

  "Yes ... of course." Emma recalled what the mysterious young man had told her. She was the only one aware of what had happened.

  "Well come on, the guys are waitin’ for us over there."

  "The guys?"

  "Yeah, Fred and Jimmy."

  "Jimmy! James is here too?"

  "Quit foolin’ around Emms, since when do you call him James?"

  Emma didn't have a chance to answer. Her friend grabbed her by the arm and drug Emma through the crowd. They left the dance floor and headed for the side of the hall. Two young men in their early twenties were standing there waiting. Both wore army dress uniforms - brown slacks, brown jacket with a tan shirt and tie.

  Emma's eyes opened wide. There was her husband James ... no, future husband, a young Jimmy. It was all here - the Ballroom dance with Millie and James, Kay Kyser playing at the Starlite. All that was missing was ....

  "I think I should tell ya before we get any closer," Millie whispered, "Jonathan Pierce is here tonight."

  Emma put a hand to her mouth. All the chess pieces were in place. Everything is as it was that fateful night in 1945.

  Millie let out a loud pop of her gum. "I can't believe he came with that snooty Elaine Warner. Everyone knows he's sweet on you. God, he's such a dreamboat."

  Emma's mind was spinning. She thought she might faint if she didn’t sit down soon. "But just an hour ago you said ...." Emma checked herself. That was something a much older Millie would say sixty years from now.

  “Said what?”

  “Nothing, never mind.”

  They finally reached the two guys. James, now a young Jimmy, fidgeted nervously in his crisp uniform, a size too big for his thin frame. There were two stripes on his arm. He’d made the rank of corporal serving in France during World War II. "We were afraid you'd gotten lost or something."

  Emma smiled in spite of her predicament. James had been so shy and awkward when he was young. Just looking at him brought back sweet memories of their early years together. He stood in front of her, tall and skinny, with round innocent eyes and a short blond crew cut.

  "Well, no need to worry. I found her," Millie said.

  From behind them, the fourth member of their group let out a barely concealed belch. He was shorter and stockier than Jimmy, with a crooked nose and bushy eyebrows. He also wore a short crew cut, with the exception his hair was bright ginger.

  Millie smirked. "Honest to Pete, Fred. Sometimes ya got the manners of a barn animal."

  "What’d I do now?"

  "Nothing, that's the point. When in the presence of ladies you're suppose to excuse yourself after you burp."

  Fred snorted. "Yeah well, when I see a classy dame come around I'll do just that."

  Emma had to chuckle. Except for about fifty pounds yet to be gained, Millie's future husband had not changed much in sixty years. He always was a man of simple pleasures. Fred was still a buck private, never having the self-discipline to rise any higher.

  The orchestra was about to strike up another number. Kay Kyser's voice boomed over the loudspeakers. "Now here's one for all you brave GI's out there. Welcome back home fellas and thanks for your service the USA."

  Jimmy touched her arm. "Emma? Would you like to dance?"

  She smiled broadly. James’ arthritis had become so bad they hadn’t danced in years. They barely went anywhere anymore. "I'd love to."

  Fred grabbed Millie's arm, practically yanking her off her feet. "C'mon, let's cut some rug!"

  The two couples squeezed their way onto the Ballroom floor just as the unmistakable notes of "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" filled the air. Everyone cheered and broke into a Jitterbug.

  ‘He was a famous trumpet man from old Chicago Way.

  He had a boogie style that no one else could play

  He was the top man at his craft

  But then his number came up, he was gone with the draft

  He’s in the army, now a-blowin’ reveille

  He’s the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B’

  For the first time in months, Emma's spirits lifted. Even if this was some sort bizarre hallucination, she was having the time of her life.

  Jimmy may have been overly shy, but he was one heck of a dancer. He spun them around the dance floor until even her youthful body was puffing for air. When the song finally ended, she clung to Jimmy in exhaustion. Her young suitor was surprised by the feminine arms around him, but didn’t protest.

  "My goodness, I haven't danced like that in years."

  "Years?” he asked, confused. “What do you mean?"

  Emma pulled away from him. "I mean ... well, it's just an expression. I meant weeks."

  “Well, we can dance a lot more now that I’m back.”

  “I’d like that.”

  At that moment, someone other than her future husband caught her eye. He was a tall, dark-haired gentleman standing near the stage. The muscular build, tailored navy blue suit, the glittering cufflinks - she knew in an instant who it was.

  Jonathan Pierce turned his head suddenly; as if aware he was being watched. She’d forgotten how handsome he was, resembling a young Cary Grant. His hair was wavy brown and perfectly cut. His features were flawless - thin eyebrows, aquiline nose, and irresistible dimples when he smiled. His eyes locked on Emma's. Jonathan smiled knowingly and nodded toward her. She immediately turned away.

  Emma felt like a punching bag, being bombarded with too many emotions at once. First the time trip, then Jimmy, now this. She glanced back at the stage. He was gone!

  Oh no, she thought, what if he comes over? Not with James here. What should she do? What would she say to him?

  Thankfully, Millie and Fred joined them first.

  "Phew! After that I need me a beer. Come on Jimmy." Fred headed straight for the bar.

  Jimmy turned to her. "Emma, would you like something to drink?"

  Yes, she thought wildly, a double shot of anything, then another after that. But then she thought better of it. No, the last thing she needed was to get drunk. "Yes, but just some ginger ale maybe."

  “Make it two,” Millie added and rolled her eyes, “since Fred
never asked.”

  After the two men were out of ear range, Millie immediately pulled Emma to the side. "Did you see Jonathan Pierce?"

  Emma nodded numbly. "Yes."

  "God, he is just sooo handsome. And rich ta boot. What a package."

  "Yes, he certainly was."

  Suddenly Millie gasped. "Don't look now but that certain someone is ..." She didn't have time to finish. Emma heard footsteps behind her.

  "Emma." The voice was unmistakable, deep and rich, as if mahogany could talk. She slowly turned to face him, her pulse running out of control.

  There he was, standing before her like a movie star. Just as she remembered - the perfectly groomed hair, the crisp, tailored clothes, and that handsome, angled face.

  "H-hello Jonathan."

  He put a strong arm through hers. "It is so good to see you here. May we talk?" Then looking up at Millie, "Privately?"

  Millie leaned close to her, "I'll see ya later." Then with a grin and whisper, "Have fun!"

  Emma reached out to stop her friend, but it was too late. Millie melted into the crowd and she was alone with dashing Jonathan Pierce.

  He took her hands in his. They were smooth and warm, the nails perfectly manicured. Had Jonathan served in the war? She could not remember.

  "You look absolutely stunning tonight."

  "Thank you ... um, so do you." So do you? My God, she thought, I’m 78. You’d think she could come up with something a little more mature sounding than that.

  "You are unlike any girl I have ever known Emma; assertive, intelligent, attractive. So different than the other girls your age."

  Emma felt herself blush. She was acting like a teenager. Of course, she was a teenager now, all of eighteen years old.

  "I have an important question I want