The Iron Quill

  My body jumped at her interruption, suddenly even more aware of what news we were about to share. “I was just telling Wes about what the officers told us.”

  Her nostrils flared at the memory and she rolled her eyes. “Right. Well come on in. Tom’s coddling is driving me nuts.”

  Inside the living room, Tom turned on a baseball game and he and Wes talked with ease. I leaned against Wes’ shoulder with my feet kicked up on the sofa beside me. I was on the verge of complete boredom, when their conversation moved on to “The Big Red Machine.” They went on about the Cincinnati Reds leading the league in everything. My ears perked up when I figured out they were talking about baseball in 1976. Tom went on about how he and Wes’ dad had watched the world series at a bar and had a blast.

  Wes was completely relaxed talking about it and after a few minutes, I realized he was getting Tom to remember past moments on purpose. And it was then that I knew Wes wasn’t going to change his mind about telling his secret.

  After dinner was ready, we all ate in the dining room and Wes continued soliciting Tom’s memories of his “father.”

  Listening to them was fascinating because I was learning more about Wes through the stories of his past, but it was also hard for me to keep a straight face. The food was delicious, but I ate like a nervous mouse, because in a few moments, my mother would know, not only that her daughter had lived past lives, but that the future really didn’t look good.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t figure out why I’d ever thought it was a good idea to tell her. She was horrible with stress. It made no sense. My mashed potatoes took a beating as my fork turned them into railroad tracks on my plate.

  “Sophie, that’s a beautiful ring,” my mom appraised from the opposite end of the dining room.

  My gaze snapped to my left hand. It was the first time I’d let my hand be openly seen and it couldn’t be missed. “Thanks,” I said putting it under the table, immediately remembering why I wanted her to know the truth. It was because I wanted to marry Wes and for her to understand why.

  “Is it new?”

  I looked at Wes, whose gaze was locked on mine. “Um, yes, Wes got it for me. It has a crazy story behind it. I’ll tell you about it after dinner if you want.”

  A hint of realization crossed her face. “Oh, okay.” Her eyes narrowed at Wes a little.

  Tom came to our rescue. “Well, how about we clean up this mess and have dessert in the living room?”

  I stood up quickly. “Sounds good.”

  “Let me help,” Wes said, and in the blink of an eye, the three of us had cleared out with our plates, leaving my mom just as she was starting to come out of her thoughts.

  In the kitchen, Tom took my plate. “Sophie, I think you’re about to give your mom a heart attack.”

  His assessment surprised me, so I gave him a confused look. When he smiled, I felt a sense of comfort that he was on my side. “You have no idea.”

  He laughed, “Well, let’s fix her a strong cup of coffee and a large slice of pie then.”

  My mom busied herself with putting the dishes in the dishwasher and wouldn’t even make eye contact with Wes and me. Tom kept his promise and brewed the coffee and pulled the pie from the oven.

  “Why don’t you go sit down, Gayle? We’ll bring in your coffee and dessert.”

  She wiped her hands on the towel, tossed it on the counter, and nodded without a word.

  “Yikes,” Tom said after she walked out.

  “Yikes,” Wes repeated.

  I gave him a hard look. “Don’t you chicken out.”

  “I won’t. If you won’t.”

  My mom ate her whole slice of pie in three bites and then buried her nose in her coffee cup. Her right leg was crossed over the other, swinging back and forth.

  “Mom,” I started, “Wes and I have something to tell you.”

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  “Um.”

  “You are not going to tell me that’s the kind of ring I think it is, are you?”

  I cleared my throat. “Oh heavens, Sophie. You’re just a kid. And you.” She pointed her cup at Wes. “This is not the answer.”

  Answer?

  “What answer are you talking about Mom?”

  “You know, the answer. Look,” she uncrossed her legs and moved to the edge of the sofa, “I’m sure you feel terrible about what has happened Wes, but thinking about getting married is not going to change anything. Sophie needs to get through this without any crazy distractions.”

  “Mom, hear us out.”

  “Sophie.”

  “Mom! Seriously, this ring is totally nothing compared to what we really want to tell you.”

  “You are NOT preg—”

  “Of course not!” I spat back.

  She sighed, “Thank God.”

  Tom scooted closer to her and started rubbing her back.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s sort of worse and more unbelievable.”

  “How is that possible?” she asked.

  Wes and I exchanged glances. He took the cue and pulled out his stack of photos.

  “Uh, we wanted both of you here, because we have a problem and don’t know how to solve it alone.” My mom started nervously tapping her heels, sending her knees into jackhammer mode.

  Wes kept going. “What I am about to tell you is the truth, and no one else knows it but Sophie and me. I swore to my uncle that I would never tell another soul, but I’m about to tell you because we have no more options and I think it’s only fair.”

  Her knees started to settle.

  “In 1916, Dr. Oliver Thomas was working on a serum that he hoped would cure the sick. A fifteen year-old boy was brought into him, bleeding to death. He was hemophilic and his blood wouldn’t clot. The only thing Dr. Thomas could think of trying was his special blood serum. No one knows about this serum, because he kept the ingredients secret. All I know is that alligator blood was in it, because of its antibodies. Somehow, Dr. Thomas knew something special was in that blood.

  “Anyway, he used the serum on the boy and the boy survived. Dr. Thomas was shocked that it worked, because it had failed on every other previous patient. After consideration, he figured out that it worked on the boy because his blood wouldn’t clot against the intrusion of the cold-blood.

  “What happened next is what caused Dr. Thomas to destroy every bit of evidence leading to his serum. He believed that if anyone found out what had happened, the world would go mad, with people becoming more greedy and trying to alter the course of humanity.”

  “I don’t get it,” my mom said. “What happened next?”

  “Well,” Wes paused. “The boy he saved,” he put a picture of him lying on the hospital bed and Dr. Thomas standing next to him on the coffee table in front of her. “The boy he saved was me.”

  My mom’s head snapped back in confusion.

  “My name is Weston Wilson, and I was born on January 12, 1900. I almost died in 1916, but Dr. Thomas saved my life. Since then, I have only aged physically about three years.”

  My mom started laughing nervously, but her eyes kept traveling to the picture. Tom’s mouth was hanging open.

  “That’s ridiculous,” my mom quipped.

  “I swear it’s true,” Wes said.

  “After my mom died, Dr. Thomas took me in as his nephew. When he died in 1958, he made me promise to continue his research in hopes of finding a cure for sickness without altering people.”

  My mom shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”

  She was in a state of shock and denial. At that point Wes knew he’d have to move on to Tom if my mom was ever going to come around, so he diverted his attention to him. “Tom, that would obviously mean that you never met my father. That would mean that the person you knew in college was me.”

  Tom’s eyes stayed fixed on the picture and Wes kept talking. “We went to that bar for the World Series in 1976. I remember you dragged me there instead of letting me stay home to study. We’d only been there fi
ve minutes before your ex-girlfriend came up to you and threatened to tell the bartender we were there on fake IDs. You told her that you’d call her parents and fill them in on her relations behind your back with the fraternity brothers. That’s when she threw her drink in your face.”

  “Your father could’ve told you that story,” he whispered, still staring at the picture of Wes and Dr. Thomas.

  “Okay, how about the night I did your physics homework, because you’d made yourself sick with concern that you weren’t going to pass and your father was going to stop paying for your school.”

  “Is this some sort of joke?” my mom interrupted. “Are you guys using this to take away from the fact that you think you want to get married?”

  “No, we want you to understand why we want to,” I said.

  “Well, what does any of this have to do with you, Sophie?”

  “Because Wes has a purpose, Mom. He’s the key to finding amazing medical cures. All his life he’s been hiding a secret and hasn’t been able to trust anyone. And now, he can.”

  “This is what this is about? You believe he is some sort of miracle person, so you want to get married? That makes no sense. I’ve heard a lot in my life, but this is nuts.”

  Holding back tears, she turned to Wes. “You dragged Sophie into your insanity, put her in the face of danger from people connected to your crazy theory, and now you want to what? Fix it with a diamond?”

  He shook his head.

  “Wes, show her the next picture,” I said. “Mom, there’s more to the story.”

  “I can’t listen to any more.”

  “Gayle,” Tom said putting his hand on her knee. “I want to hear the rest, and you should, too.”

  “Fine.” She blinked quickly, trying to contain the wetness, and sucked in a breath.

  I took over the story. “There was a nurse in 1916 who found Wes on the street, bleeding to death. She’s the one who took him to Dr. Thomas to save his life, and she’s the one who helped him get better afterwards. Her name was Amelia.”

  I nodded to Wes and he put the picture of him, Amelia, and Dr. Thomas on the coffee table next.

  My mother’s eyes focused and narrowed, and then her hands flew up to cover both sockets.

  Tom snatched the picture. “What? . . . Is that?”

  “Sophie, I gave birth to you, so if you expect me to believe you are aging slowly, you can cut it out right now.” Her head was shaking.

  “No, Mom. I’m aging fine. That girl is Amelia.”

  “Then what is this?” she pointed to the picture.

  “We’re pretty sure it’s me in a past life.”

  “Oh, my gosh.”

  “Mom, listen. I have more proof. Wes fell in love with Amelia and when she died, he thought she was gone. But then he met Lenny in 1963.” I signaled to Wes to put the next picture down. The one of him and Lenny, and at the sight of that, she snatched the picture up, looked closely, and tossed it back on the table like it was on fire.

  “When Wes met her, he started to realize that maybe Amelia was reincarnated, and when she died, he waited and waited and when I hit him . . . “

  “No way,” she still repeated.

  I wanted to snap her out of her denial, so I raised my voice. “It’s true, Mom. I remember some things from Lenny and Amelia’s life. It’s me.”

  “What? Why are you telling me this? You think this will make getting married all right? Even if it is true, why get married now?”

  That’s when Wes and I took in long, deep breaths, knowing the kicker was coming.

  “Because both Lenny and Amelia died when they were nineteen years old and Wes is worried it will happen to me, too. We want you guys to help us figure out a way to change it.”

  With that, my mom threw her hands up and excused herself to her room.

  Tom stared at me like a deer in headlights before blinking slowly. “Um . . . I’ll go talk to her.”

  He left, and Wes and I stared at each other. “She’ll be okay,” he said.

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “We just dropped a lot on her. Give her time to think about it.”

  “Right.” I plopped back on the couch and Wes positioned his arm under me, holding me close. “Did you see her face?”

  His chest released a small vibration, “Yeah.”

  “She’s freaking.”

  “Yeah.”

  Five minutes later, Tom came out and pointed to the pictures on the coffee table. “Your mother wants to see these again.” After picking them up, he left the room just as soundlessly as he’d tiptoed in.

  Another twenty minutes after that, they both came out and sat in their same spots. I sat up, giving her my full attention.

  “So what does this mean?” she said.

  She was my mother, so I took the task of handling it from there. “We don’t know, but we think Wes was supposed to die in 1916, but he didn’t . . . for a reason. We think his purpose in life is to help others. And we think we are soul mates, and all we want is to fulfill his purpose and figure out how to help me live past nineteen. Mom, all I know is that I love him more than life and he loves me even more than that. I want to be with him all the time, which is why I want to get married. Especially if I’m going to die in six months.” She winced. “But more so, we wanted you to understand our situation and help us.”

  My mom exhaled deeply. “Tom believes your story. He very much trusts that Wes is who he says he is. And if this is true, then I do not find it a coincidence that you could very well have a life-threatening disease right now. So that’s my number one priority. I can’t think about the rest.”

  “I think I can fix that,” Wes said. “I’m more concerned of dangers and threats I’m not thinking of.”

  “What do you mean you can fix it?” she asked.

  “My lab is very close to finding a cure for AIDS. I’m hoping we’ll have it finished by the time Sophie would need it.”

  Tom’s interest piqued. “How close?”

  “Very close. We can’t get two ingredients to gel. We need another doctor who knows the ins and outs of mixing various antibodies.”

  “I would love to help, but my specialty is optometry,” Tom said.

  “I know.”

  “There’s more,” I blurted out.

  “More?” my mom breathed.

  We told my mom and Tom about Wes’ abduction and the doctor who helped him escape. Wes told Tom he was very certain that the doctor could help, but the doctor didn’t know yet. When Tom questioned what that meant, Wes spilled the beans about how he thinks Dr. Carter is Dr. Thomas returned.

  My mom’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me. So, what? Are there a bunch of reincarnated souls walking around?”

  “I don’t know. Wes thinks it could be for people who didn’t get a chance to fulfill their purpose.”

  Cutting to the chase, my mom sighed. “So, if you somehow get this Dr. Carter to work for your lab, then what?”

  “Then, we perfect the medicine and test it on someone. It’s always hard to find the first trial tester because we don’t test on animals first, and this medicine could have fatal effects on the organs.”

  Without thinking, I volunteered. “You can test on me.”

  “Absolutely not,” Wes responded.

  “Why not?”

  “Sophie. Did you hear the part about fatal effects? That’s something we’re trying to keep you from, remember? And you’re not even positive yet.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Tom interrupted. “One hundred years ago, three people came together and discovered a miracle transfusion?” We both nodded. “And one hundred years later, we are one step away from a miracle medicine and the same three ‘people’ are here in the flesh again. And Sophie here could very well carry the virus that the medicine could cure. You don’t find that to be a coincidence?”

  We hadn’t thought of it like that.

  “So what are you saying?” Wes asked.

  “I’m
saying that the three of you are living for a reason. And it would probably be a good idea to get Dr. Carter to your lab.”

  Chapter 21

  THE NEWS

  The following week, Tom helped Wes think of a way to get Dr. Carter to work for him. The hardest challenge was figuring out a way to talk to him. He was, after all, working for the enemy.

  Tom decided to stop beating around the bush and just call him, only to find out that his number had been disconnected. After calling around further, he was told Dr. Carter had been honorably discharged. Wes thought that was strange, and so did Tom, because there was no forwarding information at all.

  Further digging found nothing. No trace of him at his home, nothing. Wes began to worry that either something happened to him or that he’d disappeared forever. I felt bad for Wes, because I could tell he had a lot riding on this, but he insisted he was fine.

  While Wes was figuring out his next course of action, I studied for my finals, and my mom let Wes stay over until midnight. I guess you could say she was coming around.

  She did have rules. No sex, obviously, and I had to keep my door open. I guess she also trusted that Wes wouldn’t try anything until my final results came back negative. She didn’t know he didn’t get sick, and we weren’t going to tell her. Wes was a gentleman, though, and he was so worried about his next move that he wasn’t even thinking about breaking my mom’s rule.

  Every night, he lay with me as I thought about the past, the present, and the what-ifs.

  I tried to focus on all the good moments and when I couldn’t remember every detail, panic began to set in. If the what-ifs turned out badly, Sophie’s life would one day be forgotten. It was with those thoughts that I decided to buy a journal.

  So much was happening so fast, I was afraid it would be over before I had a chance to really capture it all, or let Wes truly understand how I felt about him. So, in between studying, I began to write.

  I started with how I’d felt the very first time I ran into him, on through practically every minute, not leaving out a single detail. If anything did happen to me, I wanted Wes to know how much he meant to me—Sophie.