He was tempted to sneak a transistor radio and an earpiece into the ceremony so he could listen to the Cubs play the Cardinals, but he refrained.
He applied to the academy the next day. Sergeant Berkman had been right about at least one thing. Having the U.S. Army on his resume did help him get accepted, even if he didn’t have the promised MP training.
Scott applied himself to the classes more than he ever had in high school, and he excelled.
In the end, his physical limitations were simply too much. There were certain standards that every graduate of the academy had to meet—the ability to lift and carry weight, completing an obstacle course—and he couldn’t do it. What was worse, he had to be honest with himself and realize that no matter how hard he worked, he would never be able to.
He would have to find another avenue to fulfill his dreams.
Chapter Eleven
It was mid-October, 1973. Earl Bell had received his cancer diagnosis and knew that he was dying. He was doing everything he could to get things in order. As he had done in previous lives, he met with his attorney and went over his will to make sure that Scott and Cheryl would receive the house and whatever money he had.
He sat in the living room drinking coffee and watching the winds of autumn blow in. The leaves had already turned amber and orange and quite a few had taken the plunge to the ground. He watched Scott on the ladder outside, putting the storm windows up. It was a job he and Scott had always done together. He was too weak to help this year, though, and sat watching instead.
When the job was finished, Scott came in, sniffed the air and said, “Coffee in the afternoon, huh? What are we rich folks or something?” He poured himself a cup.
Earl snorted a small laugh at the idea of them being rich folks, but it died quickly. Scott joined him in the living room and they sat for a few minutes, watching the weather.
Finally, Earl said, “So what’s next, then?”
“Oh, I suppose I need to get up on the roof and make sure all the flashing is ready for another winter.”
Earl shook his head. “No. I mean, what’s next for you?”
“Oh. Well, that question’s a lot harder.”
“It always is.”
“I guess I don’t have a real plan yet. All my life, I wanted to be a police officer. Now that I know that’s out, I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do.”
“I know you’ll be okay financially. You two will have the house, and it’s paid off. You’ve got your benefits from the army, too. So, you’ll never starve. Still, a man needs something to do. A reason to get out of bed in the morning.”
“Any ideas for me?” Scott was genuinely curious.
“None that are of much use. Have you thought of going to college for something? You’ve got your GI Bill to help you out with that.”
“I was never much of a student. I know I need something, though, you’re right.”
“Find something you love. Me, I loved working with my hands. I enjoyed going to work every day, finding new challenges. If you’re lucky enough to find something like that and someone you look forward to coming home to every night, you’ve got the world beat. That’s what I had.”
Scott noticed a book open on Earl’s lap, in place of his usual newspaper. “What are you reading?”
“Not much. Just picking up a few of the books I’ve read over the years and looking at them again. This one is In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote.”
“Never heard of it.”
“You’re young. There’s a whole lot of things you’ve never heard of. Doesn’t mean they’re not worthwhile.”
TWO WEEKS LATER, EARL Bell was dead. At the very end, he smiled at Cheryl and Scott and said, “I’ll miss you both, but don’t fret about me. This is good. I’m ready to go.”
For many previous lives, that time period between Earl dying and Christmas was a waiting game. Scott was letting time pass so that Cheryl could tell him she was getting married and he could tell her that he was moving on. Now, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He could let the two of them move out into their own place while he stayed in this house, but that felt wrong. Three bedrooms called out for a family, not a young bachelor.
By the time the inevitable Christmas conversation came, he had decided to move out and start fresh. Cheryl argued with him and asked him to stay, but he had no interest in sharing a house with newlyweds.
He moved into a small apartment on the edge of town while they were on their honeymoon. He picked up a few sticks of old furniture and some dishes at Goodwill and was mostly settled in before they returned. The only thing he took from the house was his clothes, his Purple Heart, which Earl had given back to him just before he passed, and the stack of books sitting on the table next to Earl’s chair.
If they were good enough for him, they’re damn sure good enough for me. Can’t see much of a reason to get a television set, so I’ve gotta have something to pass the time.
His first night in his new place, he wandered around, lost despite the cramped surroundings. He finally settled on the couch and plucked the top book off the stack he had brought with him. Again, it was In Cold Blood.
He cracked the book open and realized it was the first thing he had read since he had graduated from high school years earlier. The next time he looked up, two hours had passed. The story of the destruction of the Clutter family resonated with him—the randomness, the loss of an entire family, all done for almost no reason at all.
When Scott glanced at the clock again, he saw it was after midnight. He hadn’t even bothered to make up his bed yet. Stretching out on the ugly green couch he had just bought, he slept.
When he woke up, Scott realized how unequipped he was. He may have had a frying pan, but he didn’t have eggs. He had a battered old coffee pot, but no coffee.
Better go to the store first thing.
Then, his mind drifted to where he had left off in the book the night before. When he had stopped reading, the two killers had just been apprehended and brought back to Kansas to stand trial.
If only the Clutters had known it was coming, or if someone had been there to protect them, none of it would have happened.
A sudden thought hit Scott, and it stopped him dead in his tracks.
Someone who knew what was coming. Maybe someone like me.
The idea hit him so strongly, he had to sit down.
Nothing I can do for the Clutters, of course. They’ve been dead since I was a little kid. But what if someone that kept starting their life over and over again knew when something was going to happen? I could stop those bad things before they happened.
Chapter Twelve
As Scott wheeled a cart down the aisle of the grocery store, he turned things over in his mind.
Not too much I can do in this life. I never managed to live past 1975, and I wasn’t paying attention to what happened in the world. Hell, I wasn’t paying attention to anything except where my next fix was coming from. But, what if I did pay attention this lifetime? Took notes. Did research. Taught myself to remember things. Then, when I started over again, I could be ready.
Scott didn’t watch where he was going and his cart clipped the edge of a toilet paper display, sending it tumbling to the ground. Embarrassed, he began restocking them haphazardly back on the shelf.
He didn’t want any other mishaps while he was on this trip so he focused on his grocery shopping, then his driving. But as soon as he got home and got the shopping put away, he focused on the idea once more.