I didn't see anything wrong with my clothes-especially in view of the way they were dressed. But I didn't answer. Other times, other customs-I could see that I was going to have trouble.
She put a hand on his arm. "Don't, John," she said gently. "I think he's hurt."
He looked at her, glanced back sharply at me. "Are you hurt?"
I tried to stand up, managed it. "I don't think so. A few bruises, maybe. Uh, what date is today?"
"Huh? Why, it's the first Sunday in May. The third of May, I think. Is that right, Jenny?"
"Yes, dear."
"Look," I said urgently, "I got an awful knock on the head. I'm confused. What's the date? The whole date?"
"What?"
I should have kept my mouth shut until I could pick it up off something, a calendar or a paper. But I had to know right then; I couldn't stand to wait. "What year?"
"Brother, you did get a lump. It's 1970." I saw him staring at my clothes again.
My relief was almost more than I could stand. I'd made it, I'd made it! I wasn't too late. "Thanks," I said. "Thanks an awful lot. You don't know." He still looked as if he wanted to call out the reserves, so I added nervously, "I'm subject to sudden attacks of amnesia. Once I lost, uh-five whole years."
"I should think that would be upsetting," he said slowly. "Do you feel well enough to answer my questions?"
"Don't badger him, dear," she said softly. "He looks like a nice person. I think he's just made a mistake."
"We'll see. Well?"
"I feel all right... now. But I was pretty confused for a minute there."
"Okay. How did you get here? And why are you dressed that way?"
"To tell the truth, I'm not sure how I got here. And I certainly don't know where I am. These spells hit me suddenly. As for how I'm dressed... I guess you could call it personal eccentricity. Uh like the way you're dressed. Or not dressed."
He glanced down at himself and grinned. "Oh, yes, I'm quite aware that the way my wife and I are dressed... or not dressed would call for explanation under some circumstances. But we prefer to make trespassers do the explaining instead. You see, you don't belong here, dressed that way or any other, while we do-just as we are. These are the grounds of the Denver Sunshine Club."
John and Jenny Sutton were the sort of sophisticated, unshockable, friendly people who could invite an earthquake in for tea. John obviously was not satisfied with my fishy explanations and wanted to cross-examine me, but Jenny held him back. I stuck to my story about "dizzy spells" and said that the last I remembered was yesterday evening and that I had been in Denver, at the New Brown Palace. Finally he said, "Well, it's quite interesting, even exciting, and I suppose somebody who's going into Boulder can drop you there and you can get a bus back into Denver." He looked at me again. "But if I take you back to the clubhouse, people are going to be mighty, mighty curious."
I looked down at myself. I had been made vaguely uneasy by the fact that I was dressed and they were not-I mean I felt like the one out of order, not they. "John... would it simplify things if I peeled off my clothes, too?" The prospect did not upset me; I had never been in one of the bare-skin camps before, seeing no point in them. But Chuck and I had spent a couple of weekends at Santa Barbara and one at Laguna Beach-at a beach skin makes sense and nothing else does.
He nodded. "It certainly would."
"Dear," said Jenny, "he could be our guest."
"Mmm... yes. My only love, you paddle your sweet self into the grounds. Mix around and manage to let it be known that we are expecting a guest from... where had it better be, Danny?"
"Uh, from California. Los Angeles. I actually am from there." I almost said "Great Los Angeles" and realized that I was going to have to guard my speech. "Movies" were no longer "grabbies."
"From Los Angeles. That and `Danny' is all that is necessary; we don't use last names, unless offered. So, honey, you spread the word, as if it were something everybody already knew. Then in about half an hour you have to meet us down by the gate. But come here instead. And fetch my overnight bag."
"Why the bag, dear?"
"To conceal that masquerade costume. It's pretty conspicuous, even for anyone who is as eccentric as Danny said he is."
I got up and went at once behind some bushes to undress, since I wouldn't have any excuse for locker-room modesty once Jenny Sutton left us. I had to do it; I couldn't peel down and reveal that I had twenty thousand dollars' worth of gold, figured at the 1970 standard of sixty dollars an ounce, wrapped around my waist. It did not take long, as I had made a belt of the gold, instead of a girdle, the first time I had had trouble getting it off and on to bathe; I had double-looped it and wired it together in front.
When I had my clothes off I wrapped the gold in them and tried to pretend that it all weighed only what clothes should. John Sutton glanced at the bundle but said nothing. He offered me a cigarette-he carried them strapped to his ankle. They were a brand I had never expected to see again.
I waved it but it didn't light. Then I let him light it for me. "Now," he said quietly, "that we are alone, do you have anything you want to tell me? If I'm going to vouch for you to the club, I'm honor-bound to be sure, at the very least, that you won't make trouble."
I took a puff. It felt raw in my throat. "John, I won't make any trouble. That's the last thing on earth that I want."
"Mmm... probably. Just `dizzy spells' then?"
I thought about it. It was an impossible situation. The man had a right to know. But he certainly would not believe the truth, at least I would not have in his shoes. But it would be worse if he did believe me; it would kick up the very hoorah that I did not want. I suppose that if I had been a real, honest, legitimate time traveler, engaged in scientific research, I would have sought publicity, brought along indisputable proof, and invited tests by scientists.
But I wasn't; I was a private and somewhat shady citizen, engaged in hanky-panky I didn't want to call attention to. I was simply looking for my Door into Summer, as quietly as possible.
"John, you wouldn't believe it if I told you."
"Mmm... perhaps. Still, I saw a man fall out of empty sky but he didn't hit hard enough to hurt him. He's wearing funny clothes. He doesn't seem to know where he is or what day it is. Danny, I've read Charles Fort, the same as most people. But I never expected to meet a case. But, having met one, I don't expect the explanation to be as simple as a card trick. So?"
"John, something you said earlier-the way you phrased something-made me think you were a lawyer."
"Yes, I am. Why?"
"Can I make a privileged communication?"
"Hmm-are you asking me to accept you as a client?"
"If you want to put it that way, yes. I'm probably going to need advice."
"Shoot. Privileged."
"Okay. I'm from the future. Time travel."
He didn't say anything for several moments. We were lying stretched out in the sun. I was doing it to keep warm; May in Colorado is sunshiny but brisk. John Sutton seemed used to it and was simply lounging, chewing a pine needle.
"You're right," he answered. "I don't believe it. Let's stick to `dizzy spells.'"
"I told you you wouldn't."
He sighed. "Let's say I don't want to. I don't want to believe in ghosts, either, or reincarnation, or any of this ESP magic. I like simple things that I can understand. I think most people do. So my first advice to you is to keep it a privileged communication. Don't spread it around."