Decades Ch. 05

"Well, look at her, Cassie!" Gary whined, though to Kelly's relief he did turn back to look at his friend. "Would you take it all off in here and expect to be left alone?"

"So she's a slut, that's not an invitation!" Cassie retorted. "You're my guy!"

"And you two so deserve each other," Kelly muttered under her breath, pleased to note that the other revelers gave her only a glancing look and then turned away when they realized nothing was going to happen. That, Doug had always told her, was what the cove gang was like. Respectful and minding their own business no matter how bare you went.

Kelly flopped back into the water to float. She gazed up at the stars, enjoying the sense of intimacy with the water and the sky, and she thought of Aurora. Could she really reunite her with her childhood friend, and save such a wonderful young man from a senseless death? Probably best not to get her hopes up too high just yet. And on the topic of high hopes, she thought of Doug. Just where were they headed, and how quickly? The end of the summer wasn't that far off, but then Northampton was just a couple of hours away and she'd already had some thoughts of going to New York after graduation, just like Doug wanted to make his escape back there as soon as possible. Just what would she tell her friends about how they'd met? The very thought made Kelly laugh, but it also made her realize she'd better settle on a believable story that was at least a bit more elaborate than "he was my supervisor".

With the utter comfort of the cool water and the warm night air and nothing between either of them and every inch of her body, Kelly waded and floated and splashed about for quite some time. She didn't know how long, as she wasn't even wearing a watch, but she did know that one by one, all her fellow skinnydippers took their leave. When she'd been alone in the water for some time, Kelly decided it was probably safe to head back to the old school. She enjoyed a long and peaceful last look up at the sky and out at the little bit of the beach proper that could be seen from the cove, and felt deliciously contented and optimistic as she set off to save Bobby.

Her contentment vanished as she walked out of the water and the shoreline came into view. The spot where she knew she'd left her clothes was as bare as she was. In a panic, Kelly rushed out of the water and scanned the edge of the cove from end to end, hoping against hope that the wind had just blown her dress one way or the other. But it -- and her bra, panties, shoes, and worst of all, her purse -- they were all gone.

"Fuck," Kelly whispered under her breath. What was that loser's name who'd come on to her? Gary. Gary and Cassie. They'd taken her clothes, she was sure. Maybe they just wanted to scare her a bit? Kelly stepped back to the water's edge and looked up to the top of the rock, hoping the two assholes would be snickering down at her and maybe drop her clothes to her once they'd made their point. But they were gone.

In a panic, Kelly turned back to the water. Then back to the rock. Then she walked to the edge of the rock and peered around, hoping there might at least be a discarded blanket she could wrap herself in. There was nothing, and worse yet, she could see a few beachgoers still on the sand, albeit far enough away that they probably wouldn't be able to tell she was naked if she stepped out from behind the rock. Probably.

Her heart thundering in her throat, Kelly took a few steps out into the open. No one was there -- for the moment. The corner of Lighthouse Avenue was so close but yet so far, with the gift shops all shuttered and no sign of anyone about from where she could see. If she timed her sprint up the beach to the sidewalk just right, she'd reach it just in time for the Walk light to turn in her favor, and then it was just a two block dash up Lighthouse to the old school. Two blocks of houses where most people were probably in for the night, and she'd have a fighting chance at staying out of sight.

Could she really do it? Kelly didn't think so...but she also didn't see what other options she had. As she saw the light turn yellow and still no sign of any cars on the road, it was now or never. Swallowing her heart as best she could, Kelly broke into a run.

Clamping her hands over her breasts to stop them from jiggling too much, Kelly sprinted up the sand. She got to the sidewalk just as the Walk light came on, and with only the quickest look both ways, she ran across the street. That quick look revealed that there was a car coming up the beach road, but it was still some way down the block.

Not far enough, Kelly realized even as she reached the other side, for she could hear a chorus of hoots from behind her even as she raced up the street. She also remembered, too late, that the streetlights had a security camera and that she had most likely been caught on it. At least the driver of the car evidently knew about that camera, giving her a few precious seconds to disappear up the block before the light turned green.

She was most of the way up the first block when she heard the car's tires screeching behind her. Though terrified of what she might step on in the grass, Kelly leapt off the sidewalk and onto the lawn of the house on the corner. Cutting across it, she saw two cars parked on the cross street, and lost no time in crouching between them until her pursuer had passed. He did so at a snail's pace, looking hard for the spot where the mysterious naked woman had vanished from the sidewalk; and Kelly was painfully aware of the engine idling as he lingered on the corner trying to guess which way she'd gone. When she heard the engine rev up again, she guessed -- correctly -- that he was turning towards her, and crept back up onto the sidewalk and behind the first parked car. Ten agonizing seconds or so later, the guy had inched far enough up the block for Kelly to feel safe resuming her sprint.

With no sign of any other cars and no porch lights on, it was back onto the sidewalk once she'd made it across the street. The old school was almost in sight when she heard the voice, from across the street. "Oh my god, she's naked! Hey, lady!"

Kelly managed not to look toward the voice, even as a light came on somewhere just behind her. Choking back her humiliation, she ran harder than ever up the street, across the front yard of the house next door (which, thanks to Doug and his solo trip though the jukebox, was now safe to cut across), and into the sanctuary of the old school's yard. Kelly wasn't sure if she heard footsteps behind her or not. She was sure she heard a siren coming up Lighthouse Avenue, just as she escaped around the back of the old school. There, to her immense relief, was the old garden gnome where she'd seen Doug find the spare key last time.

Kelly screwed the gnome's head off, trying desperately not to think of the chance the key might not be there this time. As the sirens grew louder and she knew the cops were combing this block, she peered into the dim cavity, and nearly wept with relief as she saw the key looking up at her. Despite her shaking hands, she managed to get the key in the lock and the door open and shut just in time to be aware that the siren was receding up the street. The click of the lock behind her was more beautiful than the sweetest music she had ever heard.

Kelly sank to the floor until her heart stopped pounding, and then stood up and tiptoed down the dim hallway, away from the stairs just inside the door. Doug had told her last time that the door used to lead only to the second floor, which she could only hope meant now it had access to the basement. The short hallway ended in another door, which wasn't locked. Kelly was greeted with the beautiful sight of the cluttered basement she knew so well, and the dim red glow from behind the stacks of old textbooks. She tiptoed across the cement floor, too nervous to remember there was no way Aunt Doro would hear her from two floors up, and let herself into the jukebox room.

Triumphantly, Kelly shut the door behind her and savored the feel of the deep carpet on her bruised and aching feet. A yellowish drink in a martini glass was waiting for her on the table. Kelly picked it up and took a tiny sip, enough to determine that it was a rum drink of some sort. She didn't care particularly for the taste, but it was just what she needed after what she'd just been through, and she took a long sip.

Still scarcely able to believe she'd made it, Kelly took a long look at the photographs on the walls. Decades of students, some of whom she now recognized from their own time. Even poor old Janice Payne looked out at her from a long-ago candid photo in what looked like a school library, an unwelcome reminder that Kelly couldn't hope to save everybody. Which was all too easy to believe when she remembered that she was naked.

Enough of that, Kelly told herself, and she set the half-finished drink on the table and strode up to the jukebox. Only then did it occur to her that she hadn't done any research on what song might bring her to that awful day. A moment's thought reminded her of how her father had always said the Beatles had rescued America from its mourning just a few weeks later. Perhaps the last record before the first Beatles record would do the trick? Working her way back from the late sixties hits she knew, Kelly found "I Want to Hold Your Hand," and just above it, "Sugar Shack". Kelly cringed. She'd always hated that song -- what kind of sadistic coffeehouse owner made his barista wear only a leotard to work?! But Kelly, who hadn't worn a leotard since her final ballet lesson back in middle school and liked it that way, would have killed for even that much modesty at the moment. Besides, she reminded herself, it was only a song. She pressed C15 and, while waiting for those silly Hammond organ toots, brought her drink back to the couch and sat down.

Closing her eyes brought twin panics -- what if those assholes were raiding her room right now, and what if she was still naked in 1963? -- but the latter at least was washed away when she felt herself swathed in delightfully constricting something or other. "Jimmy, you've got to find something better than this kid stuff to play," came a woman's voice to Kelly's left, and she opened her eyes to find herself seated at a swanky looking bar. The complaining woman, who looked just a few years older than Kelly, was smoking a cigarette, indoors and without shame. She was swathed in a collarless bright blue dress and a matching hat, with a blonde bouffant peeking out from under it. No doubt about it, Kelly had picked the right record.

Her relieved gaze caught the other woman's eye. "Can you believe that song is still on the radio, and in Bob's of all places?"

"Sorry, Miss James," the bartender answered. "You know we only get two stations with that aerial up there. It's either this or the news, and who wants to listen to that when they came in here to escape?"

"Bob's..." Kelly repeated, and with a bewildered look around she realized this was indeed Bob's By the Bay. She could tell only by the view out the window, at the beach and the souvenir shops across the street, for the brightly lit space-age style lounge with its angular furniture and sophisticated style looked nothing like the lowbrow establishment she knew from fifteen and twenty years hence. "Sorry!" she added on realizing how ridiculous she must look to her new friend. "Guess I've had too much of this for this time of day." Whatever time it was...and on that note, Kelly felt a bit of panic. It looked like late morning out there.

"Nonsense, my friend, it's never too early for a mimosa. But what's the occasion, Miss...?"

"Kelly," she said. "My name's Kelly and...I just finished a terrifying journey."

"You've been in Boston, then?" asked Jimmy the bartender. "They ever gonna finish that damn road or what?"

"Yeah, yeah that's it," Kelly said. "I haven't been in here in a while. It's just great to be back!"

"I don't think I've ever seen you in here before, Kelly," said Miss James. "I come in here every day just before my shift at the theatre up the road. I'm Irene, by the way." She extended her hand.

"You're Irene James!" Kelly couldn't help herself. "Well, it's a pleasure!"

"Thank you," Irene said. "But what on earth did you hear about me to inspire that?"

"Oh, you probably don't want to know," Kelly said. Truer word was never spoken, she knew!

"Sure I do. Trust me, my dear, I've had worse things said about me in this town than anything you're likely to say."

"Oh, well..." Kelly just wasn't very good at lying. "I heard about that night at the drive in, the big fight there, and how you escaped from that horrible man."

To Kelly's relief, Irene only laughed. "Ah yes, Sarge. Where is he now? Well, I know where he is, of course, but -- hell, Jimmy, where do you think I'd be now if I hadn't seen the light on him?"

"I don't even want to think about that, Miss James," Jimmy said.

"I didn't know the kids in town still talked about that," Irene said. "It's a good five years now, you know. But if it helps even one girl get her head on straight, that's just lovely." On that note she stepped down off her barstool. "Well, I'd best be going. The theatre opens at eleven, you know. It was nice to meet you, Kelly!"

"You too, Irene." Kelly was a bit relieved to hear it wasn't yet eleven o'clock. That meant not yet ten o'clock in Dallas, which meant over two and a half hours...but hadn't Aurora said the riots were two hours before Kennedy was shot? So she had maybe half an hour to find Bobby Corey and figure out how to save him!

No use in panicking, Kelly told herself, but her heart was racing as she opened her purse to pay her bill. In the few seconds that took, she finally got a look at her own outfit: a fairly garish black and white checkered dress, a bit too tight for her figure but very much of its time, and what felt like a girdle underneath it. Her bra also felt more like a poorly fitted vice, but after that walk home she refused to complain about such things.

"What's the damage, Jimmy?" she asked, thumbing through an impressive wad of cash she found in her purse. She also noted a hotel room key in her purse, with a huge pink keyring attached reading "Hotel Lumiere, Pascatawa". She'd never heard of the hotel Lumiere. Gone before Doug's time in town, she guessed.

"A dollar sixty-five, sweetie."

Equal parts delighted at the price and repulsed at being addressed that way, Kelly pulled out two dollar bills and lay them on the bar. Out on the beach, a wedding party caught her eye. "Guess they'll never have a happy anniversary!" She realized a second too late that she'd said it out loud.

"Can't see why not," Jimmy said. "It's chilly but the pictures will be lovely, won't they?"

"Uh. Yeah! Yes, of course." Kelly smiled and hoped Jimmy would drop the subject. Just in case he didn't, she made haste for the door. "Thanks for the drink. I'm off."

Ignoring a couple of whistles and catcalls from a clutch of businessmen drinking an early lunch, Kelly hurried out to the sidewalk. It was indeed chilly and only now did she realize how short her dress was, but her nylons were better than nothing. Another cursed garment that she now welcomed!

The beach had only a few hardy souls playing catch or lounging on the sand, but the shops were still fairly busy. Ladies and men in garishly colorful clothes, talking and laughing with the spirit of a sunny Friday, none of them with an inkling of what was just a couple of hours away. As Kelly hurried down to what would become Corey Square, the thought finally confronted her that she'd been putting off all day -- what if she could stop the actual assassination? But she had no way to get to Texas in time, and didn't that always make things a hundred times worse in the movies? No, it was only right to stick to what she could change.

If she could change it.

Aurora had said something about the malt shop, which Kelly knew was still there now. But had she said Bobby was actually there? Or had Kelly just assumed that because it was near where he was killed? Or was he even killed on Corey Square? It occurred to Kelly now that the plaque on the statue didn't actually say that was the spot!

For the first time, it occurred to Kelly to see if she was wearing a watch. She was, and it was 10:42. Less than an hour to the riots. She did spot the Hotel Lumiere across the street, at least, where a sporting goods store was in her own time. Now she could only hope that knowledge would be of any use to her.

The malt shop was still her best bet. With the kids still in school, she reasoned, anyone who was there now was probably a little older, like Bobby was. Maybe someone would at least know where to find him. With only that hope in her heart, Kelly was relieved to spot a red and white barn-like building as the crossroads that would become Corey Square drew into view. As she hurried up the sidewalk, the signs advertising burgers and shakes at ridiculously low prices came into focus. A tinny speaker was blasting the Beach Boys into the mostly-empty parking lot, where a couple of carhops were milling around.

Across the street, a dilapidated beach house stood where Kelly had seen a strip of pricey fashion boutiques just hours before. There were a few young men hanging around on the front porch, looking scraggly and like they might be trouble. But there was peace.

Relieved, but still with no clue how she might save the day, Kelly opened the door and stepped inside, finding herself on an empty dancefloor while a handful of patrons looked up from the booths lining the walls. So this was the place where Doug had saved Irene, and from the looks of it not much had changed in the five years since then. But she could admire it later. "Bobby Corey?" she called out with a hopeful smile.

A dapper young man with slicked hair and thick glasses looked over his shoulder from the bar, where he was hunched over a soda. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

Kelly smiled with relief -- she'd made it! -- but then just as quickly she realized she had no idea what to do now. "Hi," she said, feigning confidence as she strolled up to the bar. "My name's...Mary." Enough of tempting the fates by using her real name with people who would meet her again decades later but no older. "I'm a friend of Aurora's, in town for a couple of days and she wanted us to meet. She did say you were gorgeous," she added as flirtatiously as she could. "She was right!"

This made a clutch of girls at the far end of the bar giggle. Kelly ignored them; they looked young enough to still be in school. Fortunately, so did Bobby. "Are you the Mary she told me about from that volunteer camp she went to last summer?"

"I'm one of them," Kelly said. "There were three of us. She said you were thinking about the Peace Corps after college. I am, too, and I'd love to hear your thoughts."

"Oh, hell!" came another young man's voice from behind them. "Sweetie pie, you don't want that!" Kelly was shocked at first, then not at all surprised to realize the skeptical and chauvinistic voice belonged to her old friend Jimmy Sanborn. Fortunately, he wouldn't know Kelly for six more years and her hair and skirts would be a lot longer then.

"She didn't ask you, Jimmy," Bobby said. "Besides, haven't you got some tourists to yell at on the beach?"

"The cops put a stop to that, for now," Jimmy said, helping himself to the seat Kelly had been just about to take next to Bobby. "Now, listen, sweetheart, the Peace Corps is a candy-coated poison pill from the government to let lazy do-gooders like Bobby here sleep at night. Living in a mudhut somewhere in Africa and condescending to the locals there for a couple of years, what's that really going to do? Nothing! The fight is here at home, and a nice girl like you out to stick to bringing it to your preppy friends."