'"Life is short-'"
"'But the years are long,' " she answered.
" 'Not "While the Evil Days Come Not."'"
"Goodness! I- I think I'm going to cry again!"
"Stop it. What is the young man's name?"
"Jonathan Weatheral."
"-of the Weatheral-Sperling line. Yes, I remember. Maureen, I am not 'Ted Bronson.' I am Lazarus Long of the Johnson Family. Your family. I am descended from you."
For several moments she seemed not to breathe. Then she said softly, "I think I am losing my mind."
"No, my gallant love, you have as strong and sane a mind as I have ever met. Let me explain because I must tell you something and you must believe me. Have you read a novel by Mr. Herbert George Wells called The Time Machine?"
"Why, yes. Father has a copy."
"That's me, Maureen. Captain Lazarus Long, Time Traveler."
"But that book- I thought it was just a...a-"
"Just a story. It is. But it won't stay that way. Oh, not quite the way Mr. Wells visualized it. But that's what I am, a visitor from a future time. I didn't intend to let anyone suspect this; that's why I claimed to be a foundling. Not only is it hard to prove, but any attempt would interfere with my purpose which is simply to visit this time and observe it. Might even get me locked up as crazy. So I've been careful to keep my mask on, as careful as-well, as you are. In talking to those Simpsons. In not letting your children see you cry. You and I do it the same way. Audacity...plus never telling lies we can be caught in."
"Theodore, I think you believe this."
"Meaning that I sound sincere but must be crazy."
"No, no, dear, I- Yes, that's what I meant. I'm sorry."
"No reason to be sorry; it does sound crazy. But I'm not afraid that you will have me sent to St. Joe; I'm as safe with you as you are with me. But I must find some way to convince you that I am telling the truth...because I am about to tell you something you must believe. Or I have dropped my mask to no point."
He stopped to think. How to prove it? Some prediction? It would have to be very short range to serve the only purpose he had in breaking cover. But he hadn't briefed himself on this year; he hadn't intended to arrive until 1919 and knew so little about the years before 1919 that he had even mixed up the date that the United States got into this war. Lazarus, damn your sloppy ways, the next time you make a time trip you're going to memorize everything about the era that Athene can give you-and a wide margin on both sides!
Woodie's memories were no help; Lazarus did not even recall having been taken to Electric Park by a sergeant in uniform. Self-centered brat! Electric Park he remembered; Woodie Smith had gone there many times. But no visit stood out in his mind.
"Maureen, maybe you can think of some way I can prove to you that I'm from the future-something that will convince you. But this is why I had to tell you: Brian-your husband, my ancestor-will come back unharmed. He's going to go through battles. Shells will fall around him, shots will whistle past his ears-but none will touch him."
Mrs. Smith gasped. Then she said slowly, "Theodore how do you know?"
"Because you two are my ancestors. I couldn't memorize the Foundation's records on all the Howards of today but I did study the files on my own ancestors, ones I might have a chance to meet. You. Brian. Brian's parents in Cincinnati. And I figured out that Brian must have met you because he had attended Rolla, then found you on a Missouri list of eligibles-not the Ohio list-that the Foundation gave him. That's certainly something I didn't learn from you or Brian or Ira, and your children probably don't know it. Well, perhaps Nancy does; she's filled out her own questionnaire. Hasn't she?"
"Why, yes, months ago. Then it is true, Theodore. Or should I call you 'Lazarus'?"
"Call me anything you like, darling. But I still haven't proved anything. Just that I have had access to the Foundation's files-which might have been last year, not in the future. We're still looking for proof. Mmm...I know a proof for a few months from now-but I must make you believe me tonight. So you will have no more tears on your pillow. And I don't know how."
He caressed her thighs, touched her curls. "Here inside you is proof that won't show up in time. This last baby Brian put into your sweet belly- He's a boy, dearest ancestress, and you and Brian will name him 'Theodore Ira'-which flatters me enormously. When I read his name in the records, I didn't know that he was my namesake, as I hadn't picked my assumed name then."
She squeezed his hand with her thighs and sighed. "I want to believe you. But suppose Brian wants to name him Joseph? Or Josephine?"
"'Josephine' is not a name for a boy. Darling, Brian will name his war baby for the other two stars on your service flag; this war means a lot to him. He'll probably suggest it himself-I don't know. I just know that 'Theodore Ira' is the name you will register with the Foundation. My other ancestors- Adele Johnson, of course, your mother and Ira's wife. Lives in St. Louis. Left him around the time you got married but didn't divorce him-which probably irked him; I don't think Ira is a man to be celibate simply because his wife leaves but Won't turn him loose."
"He's not, dear. I'm certain Father has a-well, a mistress, and goes to see her some nights when he is supposed to be at that 'chess club'-and it's not a chess club; it's a pool hall. I go along with the pretense because he calls it that in front of the children."
"He does play chess there."
"Father plays a fine game of billiards, too. Go ahead, darling-Lazarus. I'm willing to believe. Maybe we'll find something."
"Well, I don't think I'll look up your mother; I don't think I would get along with a woman who thinks sex is something to 'put up with.'"
"I got along with Mother only by lying to her. Father reared me far more than she did. I was his favorite. He let it show, which is why I'm careful not to let it show with Wood-row. Go on, Theodore. Lazarus."
"That's all of my ancestors you are related to. Except one. Our stowaway. Maureen, I'm descended from you and Brian through Woodie."
She gasped. "Really? Oh, I hope it's true!"
"True as taxes, beloved. And it may have saved his life. I've never been closer to infanticide than I was when we found him in the back seat."
She giggled. "Darling, I felt the same way. But I won't let anger show in my voice even if I'm about to switch a child."
"I hope I didn't show anger. But I felt it. Beloved, I was so hard I ached-until we found Woodrow. Honey love, I was rarin' to go!"
"And I was just as ready! Oh, Theodore-Lazarus-it's so sweet to be open with you. Uh...yes, you're quite hard now."
"Easy there!-don't make me climb the curb. I have been ever since we left the house except when I forced it down. But the one Woodie ruined was bigger and better."
"Size isn't important, Theodore-Lazarus; a woman must fit any size. Father told me that long ago and taught me exercises for it-and I never told Brian; I let him think that was simply how I am-and accepted his compliments smugly. I still exercise regularly-because my birth canal has been stretched again and again and again by babies' skulls and if I didn't exercise those muscles I would be, in Father's salty language, 'loose as a goose.' And I do so want to stay desirable to Brian as many years as possible."
"And to the iceman and the milkman and the postman- and the boy who drives the grocery wagon."
"Tease. I'd like to stay young there till I die."
"You will, you eighteen-year-old prospective grandmother. Let's get our minds off sex and back to time travel; I'm still looking for a proof. So that you will know why I am certain that Brian came back okay. But to stop your worry it must be something that happens soon and certainly before Woodie's birthday."
"Why Woodrow's birthday?"
"Didn't I get that far? This war ends on Woodie's next birthday, the eleventh of November." He added, "I'm certain of that, it's a key date in history. But I'm racking my brain for some event between now and then-as soon as possible, to stop your worries. But-oh, shucks, dear, I made a silly mistake. I meant to arrive after this war is over. But I gave my computer one critical figure with an error in it-just a little one, but it made me arrive three years too soon. Not her fault; she accepts any data I give her, and she's as accurate a computer as ever conned a ship. Not a fatal error, either; I'm not lost in time, my ship will pick me up in 1926 exactly ten Earth years after she dropped me. But that's why I didn't study the history of the next few months; I expected to skip this war. I'm not studying Wars; histories are full of wars. I'm studying how people live."