6,750 words; 47 minutes
Dedicated to my granddaughter.
Can Grandpa Jerry solve Olivia’s problem without throwing the world into a panic?
I
On a warm, early afternoon in May, my eight-year-old granddaughter Olivia and I walked down the short, gentle slope toward her swing-set on the north side of her southeast-Michigan home. She wore a light-blue summer dress festooned with small and large pink unicorns. My old frame carried a dark-green T-shirt and black cargo shorts.
My heart sang as we “loped down the slope,” as I often put it. Pushing her in her swing while we talked and went on “pretend adventures” was one of my best times with her.
But nothing even remotely resembling contentment manifested itself in her. She stopped just short of the swing and turned to me, her forehead furrowed in what I guessed was worry – or fear.
“Grandpa, I have something to tell you, and you can’t tell anybody about it, not even Mama and Daddy.”
I cocked my head, my insides a little twitchy. “This sounds pretty serious.”
“I asked Mama and Daddy if I could transfer to another school.”
Yep, pretty serious, I’d say.
Her fingers toyed with the pink unicorn pendant on the purple Tigerhu bead necklace that she’d put together earlier in the week.
“I told them I was tired of Clinton Elementary.” She expelled a gush of air. “They said they couldn’t move me and I’d just have to learn to deal with boredom like all the other–”
“Why do I have the sneaky feeling boredom’s not the real reason you want to leave?”
She glanced away for a second at the noisy red pickup truck barreling along the highway in front of her house. Her sigh came heavy again.
“You promise not to say anything to anybody?”
“Why are you telling Grandpa this?”
“Because you always keep your promise. If you say you won’t tell anybody, I know you won’t.”
“Well, yeah, I try to–”
“I trust you, Grandpa.”
“Wow, that’s the nicest compliment I ever got. And from the person I love the most!” I palmed the rounds of her shoulders. I could feel her tenseness. “You got a deal. I promise. Let’s sit here on the grass and you tell me all about what’s bugging you.”
Once we’d settled comfortably on the shaded, cool grass, she fixed her eyes on her hands in her lap and bit her lip.
“Jennifer Watkins–” Her voice broke. “She’s a big mean bully. Caitlin says she’s a trog–trog…lo…dyte. I don’t know what that means. Jennifer picks on me every day. She pulls my hair and pushes me against the wall and stuff when nobody’s looking. Yesterday she jammed her elbow under my chin. It hurt really bad.” Her eyes were red and glistening. “She said she hopes to catch me at the park some day. She said she’d tear me up bad before anyone sees us.”
“Oh, Sweetie, I’m so sorry to hear this. Don’t you really think you should tell Daddy and Mama?”
“No! Jennifer said she’d beat me up awful every day if I ratted on her to anybody that causes her trouble. Mama and Daddy would barge in the school ’cause they’d be so angry–”
“That’s because they love you so much. I’m angry about it, too. I feel like barging in myself and stopping it. What about Mr. Briggs? He could keep an eye on Jennifer.”
“She would notice and get suspicious. A girl that used to be Jennifer’s friend told me she would beat me up awful if she got stopped from beating me up!” Her eyes pleaded. “Grandpa, can you do something that makes Jennifer quit picking on me forever?”
I stared down at the grass. “Well, you and I could go together to the police. They could go see Jennifer and maybe scare the dickens–”
“No! That would be the end of me! I told you we can’t tell anybody!” She was rigid but trembling.
Neither of us said anything for a long ten seconds.
“Okay,” I said. “I think I can solve this problem without telling anyone–but you’ll be shocked by how I do it. It’ll stop Jennifer for sure. Forever.” To myself as much as to her, I said, “In fact, no one will bother you.”
Her eyes widened, maybe from both surprise and relief, judging by the tiny smile on her lips.
“We should start now,” I told her. “Let’s go get in my car.”
“Why? Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“How long will it take?”
“Oh, several hours, I imagine.”
“But we have to tell Mama and Daddy. They’ll be worried.”
I smiled at her. “You’re such a responsible, terrific granddaughter. Remember you said you trust me? Start doing that now.”
II
Olivia and I sat in the front seat of my and my wife Karen’s Chevy Equinox, parked in the driveway of Olivia’s home. I told her to buckle up.
Olivia said, “Why didn’t you let me get in my car seat?”
“You’re fine where you are. Besides, we’re not going anywhere.”
She gave me an odd look for a couple of seconds. “Grandpa, you’re not making sense! Why are we in here?”
I reached under the instrument panel, felt along the bottom.
“Ah,” I said, sitting back and showing her a green key. “This is a very special key. Remember, you can’t tell anyone about this. Not even Mama and Daddy. Or Grandma–she doesn’t know I keep this key here. It’s safe to tell your little brother, though.” A laugh exploded through my lips. “He’ll just give you a blank look and run off to play with his cars.” I wagged the key. “Both of us have secrets now. Watch what happens when I put it in the ignition and turn it.”
The instrument panel somersaulted. On its reverse side was a set of controls–toggles, buttons, and various read-outs. I pressed a series of small buttons, then a large blue one. A flash of multi-colored light flooded the car, momentarily distorting everything.
Olivia’s sharp intake of air was audible. “What was that?”
“I activated the cloaking system.”
“The cloak–?”
“The car’s invisible now. No one can see us.”
“Why do we have to be invisible?”
“You’ll see.” I hit a toggle.
The car rumbled, shook. Smoke jetted out from underneath it, dispersing quickly.
“Grandpa, the car’s on fire!”
“The jets are firing.” I dispatched a reassuring thumb and forefinger to her chin and gave a little squeeze. “We’re okay, Sweetie.”
Like a skiff caught in a speedboat’s wake, the SUV rocked from side to side. Olivia grabbed her armrest. The car launched off the driveway, steady as an oak tree in its silent, vertical ascent.
A big grin lit up Olivia’s face. In her excitement, when she twisted fast to peer out the window, her forehead bumped against the glass. “We’re going straight up!” Her excitement drained away as fast as it had burst loose. “But why?”
“Just a few more thousand feet. Look, the altimeter – my key converted the speedometer to an altimeter – it says we’re at five-thousand feet already. Open the glove compartment and press the button on the inside top.”
She did as told. An oxygen mask popped out of our doors above the armrests where airbags were also housed. At the same time, a hum commenced, signaling that the car’s interior was being pressurized.
“Can you slip it on and just continue breathing?”
She pulled the mask on and tightened it in the back.
“Grandpa,” she said, her voice muffled. “Why don’t you answer my questions? I’m getting scared. You said we weren’t going anywhere.”
“Actually,” I said, my voice also muffled, “we haven’t gone anywhere except up. We’re still directly straight up from where we took off in your driveway.”
Twenty minutes later, we reached thirty-thousand feet. Thank God there was no jet stream to slam us into the next state.
“This should be high enough. We’re a bit higher than Mt. Everest. That’s the tallest mountain in the world.”
“I know that, Grandpa. High enough for what? We’re in a cloud. I can’t see anything!”
“We’re about to– Oh my God!” A massive dark form appeared out of nowhere.
SHWOOOOSH!
The pressure wave rocked the car back and forth, tossing Olivia toward me.
Her scream might have been heard in Mexico. She started crying. “Grandpa! We’re going to crash!”
I tweaked the power to the driver-side jets. The car stabilized. After a bit, Oliva did, too.
“That was an airliner. The pilot couldn’t see us. We’re invisible because if we’d been seen, the pilot and everyone on the ground who saw us launch would’ve flipped out at the sight of a Chevy Equinox rising straight up thousands of feet into the air. Somebody would’ve called the Air National Guard to shoot us down. We gotta hurry before another plane comes along and collides with us.”
I hit a switch. The altimeter changed to a digital clock, which read 14:40:28 5 10 2021.
I gave her a steady look. “Okay. Before we took off, I told you we’re not going somewhere. That’s true. We’re going somewhen.”
She blinked a couple of times, absorbing that. “You mean…you mean we’re actually going to travel in time? For actual real?”
I grinned and patted her knee. “Just like we do in our Swing Pretend Adventures, except, yeah, for real. Actual real.”
She gazed out the windows. “But why are we way up here?”
“We’re going back a long, long time into the past. If we had stayed in your driveway and not flown up here, we might’ve arrived at our destination time deep inside a mountain–or at the bottom of a sea. In either case, the pressure might’ve crushed us like an eggshell. Up here, we’re safe and can choose where we want to land. Understand, Sweetie?”
“Um, I–I think so.”
Just below the digital clock was a numeric pad. Leaving be the current hour and minute, I keyed in a new time, our destination time: 14:42:28 5 10 -70,000,000–hour, minute, second, month, day, year. The minus sign in front of the year indicated a time in the past. A plus sign would indicate travel to the future. My foot hit the brake pedal and I shifted the gear lever into Reverse.
Small lights on the clock began blinking steadily. The years raced backward faster than the eye could track.
“A couple more minutes,” I said.
“But why are we doing all this, Grandpa?” She was in full-blown moaning mode.
“You’ll see. It’ll soon all be clear.”
“I’m getting super nervous, Grandpa. And my stomach hurts.”
“I’m not exactly about to doze off myself.” I dug into my pocket, pulled out my pill box. “Here. Here’s a Tums, something I’m compelled to eat often at my age.”
My attention returned to the clock. “Almost there. When it reaches our destination time, the blinking lights will stop blinking, meaning we’re ready to pop out of the present into the far distant past. So. All set to go?”
She avoided my eyes and pressed her lips together. “But will we find a way to stop Jennifer from picking on me?” Her voice was low inside her mask.
“I can pretty much guarantee it, Sweetheart.”
She blew out a deep breath and nodded.
Two minutes later, the clock’s blinking ceased and the year 70,000,000 appeared–minus the minus sign.
I depressed the brake pedal and shifted to neutral. The car vibrated but remained stationary. The jets still kept us hovering. The clouds that had surrounded us vanished in an instant. A beautiful blue sky, cleaner and brighter than any sky I’d ever seen, took their place.
I could hardly breathe or speak. “Look out the window. What do you see?”
We both looked. In every direction at thirty-thousand feet, we saw only deep-green vegetation, a handful of grassy plains, several rivers, and a few lakes—no roads, no cities, no farm land, and no factory chimneys spewing black, fowl smoke.
But wait–the altimeter said twenty-three thousand feet. We had lost seven thousand feet! That meant this land mass was much higher than in 2021.
A huge shadow slid over the car from back to front.
“Grandpa! What was that? Another airplane?”
I leaned and craned my head to peer upward through the windshield.
“Now we know beyond all doubt that we’re seventy million years in the past–in the Late Cretaceous Period. It’s a pterodactyl! A hundred feet above us. They’re huge. Tall as a giraffe when standing on the ground.”
“Will it eat us?”
“Not unless it eats cars, too. Actually, we’re still invisible.” I leaned back. “Hmm, wonder how it breathes way up here– this atmosphere contains less oxygen than ours. I remember reading about that some years ago. I wonder if this pterodactyl filled up its lungs for a high dive, like some animals in our time fill up theirs to dive for fish. Smart creatures, love soaring high. I’d love to grab a picture, but we can’t create evidence of this trip.”
I gave her a smile. “Ready to land?”
“Um, I guess so.” Her hand fidgeted with her seat belt buckle. “But, Grandpa, what are we going to do?”
“You’ll see.”
“You say that too much.”
“Say what too much?”
“Never mind.” Her arms crossed high on her chest, with her chin lowered and her eyes smoldering.
“Let’s find a place to land, eh? I think I see a clearing directly beneath us. Convenient, huh?”
The car descended as I reduced power to the jets. It touched down fifteen minutes later, rocking for a few seconds. I deactivated the cloaking system and we just sat there. My skin tingled and I felt weak. Our achievement hit me. It hit Olivia, too, judging by her wide eyes and slack jaw as she swiveled her head around.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Still thousands of feet above where your driveway will be laid 70 million years from now.”
I took in our surroundings. We were in the midst of a desert-like area with patches of reddish-brown soil and black rock streaks. The area was roughly the size of a football field and ringed by a forest of bizarre-looking trees that ranged from a few feet in height to more than fifty feet. In the distance, craggy, faded-blue mountains formed a semi-circle.
“What’re we gonna–? Forget it.” Her jaw clenched. “I’ll see.”
“We’re going to be doing a lot of walking, I imagine. Unfortunately we don’t have weapons. And our superior brains won’t do us much good in a foot race with a pack of speedy little velociraptors. They’re ‘meatosauruses,’ as the girl called them in that dinosaur movie I–”
“Grandpa, I’m scared.” Her lips and chin trembled.
“Me, too, Sweetie. But we’re safe in the car.”
“Can we go home?”
I sat taking her in, sensing her fear and feeling my own. “Look, I know all this is very scary. We wouldn’t be normal if we didn’t think so. But do you realize what we’ve done?”
“Sorta.”
“We’ve accomplished the greatest adventure of all time, Sweetie. You and Grandpa. When Columbus discovered America, it was nothing compared to this. Going to the moon? Mars? Ha. Peanuts.”
She wiped the wetness from her eyes as a tremulous smile spread across her face.
I took her hand in mine. “But we’ll never be able to bask in our success, never be known for what we did. That’s because we can’t tell anybody about this. Ever. People would find out where we live, the media and scientists would hound us to dea–”
Olivia shrieked and jabbed a finger toward my window. “Grandpa!”
I twisted in my seat. A creature approached slowly, as if leery of the strange “beast” that had invaded its territory.
“Looks like a small T-Rex, but it could be an adolescent albertosaur, a relative of the T-Rex.”
Just as I’d hoped, dinosaurs had lived in our state, even though no fossils had ever been found because the sediments had eroded away by natural forces.
I reached into my pocket with a minimum of motion and extracted my phone.
Olivia squirmed in her seat. “Are–are you going to call for help?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “No, Sweetie. Nobody here to make calls to. Phones don’t work here, anyway.”
“Gonna take a picture?”
“Nope.”
“Then what–”
“You’ll see.”
When the young albertosaur, about my height, reached us, it inspected the car from one end to the other, sniffing and maybe running the car’s metallic scent through its memory banks to find a match.
It lowered its huge, gray-green head to my window. My heart hammered against my chest at the sight of its long, serrated teeth, cavernous nostrils, and beady, menacingly reptilian eyes that seemed to be trying to make sense of me. Did it think the car was an egg and Olivia and I were tasty, hatchlings-in-the-making?
Unable to quell the trembling in my hands, I inched the phone up level with its eyes and tapped the strobe light app. It began fast-flashing an intense stark-white brightness. “Albert” snapped its head back and snorted. It appeared dazed, blinking as if blinded. It whirled, whipping its tail around perhaps in case my car attacked it from behind. It trotted away.
I collapsed against the seat back. “I think…I found us a weapon, of sorts. But I don’t have a recharging cable, so I’ll use my phone only for the strobe–nothing else.”
Olivia had clamped her hands over her face. “Is it gone?”
“Thank God yes.” I looked at her and sighed. I put my hand on her shoulder and felt it shaking. “I told you you’d be shocked. I should have been more specific and more emphatic. I’m sorry.”
Guilt slammed me in the chest. What had I done! I had brought my adorable granddaughter to seventy-million years in the past and exposed her to unthinkable dangers. Why hadn’t I thought this out more?
“Remember, you can never tell anyone about this–not Caitlin and especially not Mama and Daddy.” The sweat on my forehead and brows had thickened to the point of irritating me. “Time to go hunting.”
“For what?”
“You’ll see.”
“Uhhhhhh.”
III
Under the blazing sun, the temperature on this patch of bare earth easily hit the mid-nineties.
After easing the SUV’s doors shut, I raised the rear lift gate and removed the trunk mat. I took out the two masks and two small silver oxygen canisters I had stored in a compartment next to the spare tire, a compartment Karen would never open. The canisters had straps for attaching them to our waists.
“Here. We need these to keep us healthy. The air will last about two hours.” I checked my watch.
We headed for the forest, which promised coolness and less exposure to danger—maybe. I not only prayed for our lives, but I also prayed the car would be in one piece when–if–we got back.
I whispered that we had to be quiet from here on. I held my phone in front of me, my strobe-light app at the ready. Olivia eyed the blanket I had taken from the backseat of the car and now carried in my other hand. But she didn’t ask why I had taken it. Was she fed up with my “You’ll see”s? Well, okay, maybe it was time to cease and desist on that a little.
Cooler air enveloped us as we stepped in among various strange types of vegetation and trees, some of the latter resembling shorter versions of southern Mexico’s majestic kapok trees. Towering above everything, tall pines stood like guardians of the forest. As we progressed, I broke off tree limbs to mark our path.
The forest, a place of shadows and sun, was not as dense as it had first appeared. That meant we’d be harder to ambush. I told Olivia that. But we’d also be easier to see. I didn’t tell her that.
Twenty minutes later, we found ourselves at the edge of a huge opening at a lake with a beach. A beautiful scene–except for the brontosaurus and assorted other dinosaurs headed for a drink.
“Wow, look,” I said in a low voice. “What a great place to build a home.” I was surprised that I could make a feeble stab at humor. Maybe it would help Olivia to relax a bit. “But with a high fence around it–a really, really strong fence.”
We continued on until it was time for a ten-minute rest. After adjusting the position of our O2 bottles a bit, we sat on the loamy, sweet-smelling earth and leaned against a tree, Olivia’s head just inches from my shoulder. I held my phone and blanket in my lap.
I gave the area a slow, careful scan. My heart stopped when a pair of juvenile daspletosauruses, one larger than the other, poked through a tennis-court-sized patch of tall, light-brown grass fifty yards away. They were another relative of the T-Rex but more powerful. And, to my dismay, they had spotted us. Brandishing five-inch teeth, they chittered, snarled, and snapped their jaws at each other. This aggressive behavior toward each other–was it daspletosaur-speak for “Ready to eat?” They stepped in our direction, cautious, likely, and maybe rabid with hunger.
“Grandpa!” Olivia said into my ear. “Get your phone ready!”
The daspletosauruses closed in. They were within thirty feet. Saliva spilled from their mouths.
I raised the phone. My shaky finger missed the strobe-light app. I rapped it again.
They halted, shutting and opening their eyes a few times. But they continued on toward us, unfazed. Were they hungrier than I’d thought?
When only ten feet separated us from two of the fiercest predators of all time, I said in a weak voice, “Now would be a very good time to pray.”
The nightmarish animals crouched. A pre-pounce posture?
The taller one, maybe weighing eight-hundred pounds, jerked its head up. It peered at something high above that had apparently caught its attention.
The tree Olivia and I were resting against swayed. Startled, I tipped forward and stared straight up.
The “tree trunk” we’d chosen for a back prop was the massive leg of a giant dinosaur jawing leaves five storeys up.
I pulled Olivia to her feet. We edged away, putting the huge dinosaur between us and the daspletosauruses.
“A Titanosaurus,” I said. “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt us. It’s like a cow. A really big cow.”
“Grandpa! I wanna go home! Now!”
My stomach knotted at her desperate cry. “The second we get out of this mess I got us into.”
The smaller daspletosaurus turned, dashed away. The forest swallowed it up.
The other one appeared to be standing its ground. Was it mulling over its next move as it glanced back and forth at the titanosaur and us, its next meal. It dragged its gaze toward us a final time and held it. It launched our way, circumventing the gigantic “cow.”
It could easily outrun an old man and a young child. We didn’t stand a chance. I couldn’t breathe.
What in God’s name had I done? Why had I brought my eight-year-old granddaughter into such a terrible, frightening world?
Despite the heat, I wrapped the blanket around Olivia, foolishly thinking it might provide a modicum of protection. My throat thickened as I drew her in, hugged her tight, and turned us so I’d be our attacker’s first and hopefully satiating meal.
She stiffened and moaned, laying her head against my chest. “Oh, Grandpa….”
I swayed. Spots appeared in my vision. “I–I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I just didn’t think all of this out very well.”
A thought hit me as I awaited our fate: How would archaeologists digging here seventy-million years hence explain our fossilized, modern-human bones? The news would stun–if not terrify–the entire world.
The seven-foot-tall killer would close the narrowing gap between us in less than two seconds. Bracing myself, I clamped my hands over Olivia’s eyes and closed mine.
The daspletosaurus’s feet pummeled the ground. The creature’s putrid smell almost made me retch.
A forceful breeze slapped my face and hair. My eyes sprang open.
I gasped and coughed, nearly falling over and taking Olivia down with me. The dinosaur had raced right past us. Its three-toed taloned feet chewed up sticks and leaves on the forest floor as it hurled itself away from us.
I saw why.
It was headed toward what I’d planned to use to solve Olivia’s problem with the bully Jennifer Watkins: a young pachycephalosaurus, about waist-high to Olivia, wobbling and hopping alongside its huge mother as the two of them emerged from behind a truck-sized, reddish-gray boulder jutting ten feet out of the ground. The little offspring no doubt wasn’t very strong but it was feisty-looking–and rather cute, in an ugly sort of way.
The daspletosaurus began stalking the mother pachycephalosaurus, who was equal in size to her stalker. It knew it had to take her out before it could dine on either of them. What it probably didn’t know was the purpose of the mother’s domed, nine-inch-thick skull.
Gaining my composure, I turned to my visibly shaken granddaughter. “Now you’re going to see why I brought the blanket.”
The mother and the daspletosaurus began circling each other. When Mama Pachy swung around with her back to us, I crept toward her offspring, which had scurried over to an underbrush and crouched, focused on the ensuing battle.
I pocketed my phone and unfolded the brown blanket with as little fanfare as possible. Olivia following close on my heels, I approached the toddler dinosaur from behind. My nerves ate at me like fire ants. If Mama caught us in the act, its head would make mashed potatoes out of us.
Within three feet of the toddler, I tossed the blanket over it and grabbed it up in my arms. The little pachycephalosaurus, unable to see, froze and remained still. Just as I had hoped.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered to Olivia. “It’s a herbivore—not a meat-eater. Let’s get out of here before Mama Pachy catches us stealing its child.”
Our oxygen tanks read: 13 minutes left. We needed to hurry.
IV
With the young pachy covered up and motionless in the trunk of the SUV, we arrived back at the exact same altitude, longitude, latitude, and the exact same split second that we’d left. These precise space and time coordinates were necessary to allow the SUV, returning from the past, to seamlessly occupy the same time and space of the SUV in the present, thus creating no anomalies in the flow of time, no reverberating space-time warpings with unknown ripple effects that might be disastrous.
On the ground, in the driveway of Olivia’s house, I turned off the cloaking system and transformed the car back into a car. I stowed our masks away and pointed at the clock.
“Everything we did on our journey took a tad more than two and a half hours. But from Mama and Daddy’s perspective, we’re back after being gone only about one hour–that’s how much time it took us to get to altitude and to descend. If we hadn’t been invisible and someone had watched us rise thirty thousand feet into the sky, they would’ve seen us immediately come back down. Bottom line is, Daddy, Mama, and Grandma aren’t worried yet. They think we’re still at the swing.”
“I feel a lot better, Grandpa. I knew I could trust you.”
“Thank you, Sweetheart. I love you to the burn-pile and back.”
She laughed–one of her good belly laughs that always made me laugh–and unbuckled her seat belt. She twisted toward the back. “What do we do with Pachy? It sure is cute, in an ugly sort of way.”
Had I told her that instead of thinking it? “This is where it gets tricky–”
“Everything has been tricky today.”
I smiled absently, mulling over thoughts I’d pondered earlier. “You said Jennifer goes to the park and hopes to catch you there some day?”
“Her used-to-be friend told me she goes every Sunday afternoon. Goes on her bike. She only lives a block away.”
“Her parents don’t take her? Don’t keep an eye on her? That might be a clue to why she’s a bully–parental neglect. Maybe she needs attention, to feel cared for.” My vision of her home life drew a frown from me.
“Holy cow, today’s Sunday. She may be there now!”
“Good. Go inside and tell Daddy and Mama that Grandpa wants to take you to the park. Tell them we’ll be gone for about an hour. Remember, don’t say anything about what we did. Try to act calm, like nothing happened. Otherwise, they’ll read your face and think something’s up. You gotta be a good actor!”
While she was gone, my terrific strategy crystallized in my mind: Most likely I’d be playing things by ear on the fly.
Disgust, guilt, and remorse tore up my insides like a rototiller. I hadn’t thought through our trip to the long-distant past very well at all. This mistake nearly cost us our lives. Now I was failing at thinking through Olivia’s “bully problem.” There were just too many unknowns. I would have to be so careful! One little mistake and the whole world would be thrown into a panic.
I figured I’d be a basket case by day’s end.
My thoughts shattered like glass when Olivia yanked open a rear door. She clambered up onto her knees in her car-seat and peered into the trunk. “They said okay.”
Her gaze lingered on the blanket that little Pachy was wrapped in. She reached over and stroked it a couple of times. “I think it’s asleep. It’s taking short breaths and making weird little noises.”
“Hm? Yeah. We gotta get going, Sweetheart.”
V
I drove the three miles to the park and pulled into the gravel parking lot near the playground.
“There she is!” Olivia said, pointing toward the dozen or so kids sliding, jumping, see-sawing….
I followed her gaze out. “The one in the white T-shirt and black shorts?”
“Yeah!”
“She is pretty tall.” I unbuckled and turned in my seat to face her. “Okay–here’s my very best bad plan. I’m going to let you out here. Then I’ll drive down the service road on the other side of the river. I’ll meet you on the bridge where you sometimes go fishing. You still remember where it is, right?”
She nodded. “But, Grandpa, I’m scared to be alone with her.”
“Can you outrun her?”
She gave me her signature “Duhhhh” look.
“Okay then. What I want you to do is stay here for sixty seconds after I leave. That’ll give me time to get to the service road and drive to the bridge. When you’ve finished counting to sixty, start running alongside the river toward the bridge. Make sure she spots you, which ought to be easy. She’ll notice you’re alone and that’ll motivate her to take off after you. I’ll be waiting for you. The trees’ll keep her from seeing me until it’s too late.”
“What about Pachy?”
“Pachy will be with me.” I grinned from ear to ear.
A slow dawning went on behind her eyes. “So that’s how we’ll….”
I nodded, still doing the Cheshire Cat thing.
Her shoulders curled inward and she giggled with obvious delight.
After she slipped out onto the ground, I left and drove along the service road to the bridge. Hidden by the trees that bordered the little river, I jumped out of the car and opened the trunk.
Under the blanket, Little Pachy, taking up half of the trunk floor space, breathed hard and fast. I gently rubbed its side and back. Its breathing slowed a bit and it made a noise roughly the equivalent of a cat’s purr.
I dug around in the trunk and came up with the rope that in the winter I pulled Olivia on her snow-sled with. At one end, I made a poacher’s knot with a big loop. I nudged Pachy’s blanket off to the side.
Pachy stirred, its eyes fluttering, taking in its surroundings. When the little dinosaur lifted its head, I pushed the loop over its high-domed skull and bone spikes and tightened the rope a bit around its muscular neck.
I gave Pachy another reassuring caress. At least I hoped it was reassuring, as opposed to being terrifying.
Slowly, it got to its feet. It wobbled and staggered for a moment, then leaned close to me to give me a good sniff. Again, the purring sound. It must have already associated my and Olivia’s scents with safety. I strained as I picked it up and set it on the dirt road. It lurched toward the river bank. I let it pull me down to the water, where it gulped for half a minute. While it drank, I looked around on the ground and spotted a sturdy stick about two feet long. I tossed it up onto the bridge, which was twelve inches above my head.
Foot falls thudded on the bridge planks. “Grandpa,” Olivia whispered, “where are you? Jennifer’s coming!”
“Down here.” I waded across the knee-deep, cold river to the other bank, tugging gently on Pachy. “I’ll wait here out of sight until she gets here. Move to the far end of the bridge to make Jennifer approach you. I’ll block her from leaving on this end. Pick up that stick and be ready for her.”
Not ten seconds later, more shoes thumped on the bridge.
“I gotcha now,” Jennifer said. It sounded like a playful growl. “Remember what I promised to do?”
Pachy and I scrambled up the bank. My tennis shoes sloshed. Olivia held the stick high over her shoulder with both hands. She certainly looked prepared to do business if Jennifer tried to get around her.
Jennifer pirouetted to face me and Pachy. She screamed. It was blood-curdling. “What is that? A–a dragon?”
Luckily, we were too far away from the playground for anyone to hear her scream, especially over the screams of the other kids at the playground.
Pachy angled the top of its thick skull in her direction and strained against the rope. To a pachycephalosaurus, did a creature’s unfamiliar scent represent a threat? Or could Pachy sense that Jennifer was an enemy of the two people it felt safe with?
“That’s Pachy and my Grandpa,” Olivia said. “Grandpa’s training Pachy to be my new pet. You’re gonna get knocked hard into the river if you start something.”
Jennifer didn’t take her eyes off Pachy. Her whole body trembled.
“Every time you hurt Olivia,” I said, “she’ll get Pachy and come after you. That domed head’ll give you the worst bruises you ever had.”
“But–but–“
“No ‘buts.’ Just tell us you’re going to stop beating up on Olivia.”
The bridge of her nose tightened as she fought back tears.
“Jennifer….” I said, drawing her name out.
“Okay! Okay!” She sobbed uncontrollably. “I won’t–I won’t hurt her anymore!”
“Promise?” Olivia said.
The backs of Jennifer’s hands shoved tears away. “I promise.”
I told Olivia to come take the rope and keep it taut. I strode to Jennifer and put my hand on her shoulder. “Good. Now, you get punched by Pachy also if you tell anyone about this. You hear me? If anyone learns about Pachy, I’ll know who they learned it from.”
I’d never seen a head nod with such vigor. She still hadn’t looked away from Pachy.
“Good. Good.” I stood in front of her. “You know what I think? Inside that mean, crusty exterior is a very nice person struggling to get out.”
She glared at me.
“That’s what I believe, Jennifer. Tell me, why didn’t your dad and mom bring you here and play with you?”
“They never do!”
“How come?”
“My Daddy has been in a wheel chair for four years. And he’s a little messed up in the head. He can’t play with me.”
“Can he talk? When is the last time he said he loves you?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What about your mom?”
The anger deepened in her moist eyes. “She’s always too busy. She has two jobs ’cause Daddy can’t work. She comes home late and is always too tired to do anything. Never wants to talk to me much. Just tells me, ‘Make your own supper, make your own lunch, you’re not too young to wash your own clothes.’ She cries a lot. More than I do.”
I bent at the waist, my hands on my knees, and said in a soft voice, “Do you have any friends?”
She shook her head.
“What about grandparents and cousins?”
“They all live in another state. I never see them.”
My own eyes stung and my throat got scratchy. I straightened. “Gee, no wonder you’re so angry, Jennifer. It’s not fair what you’re going through. It’s not a normal childhood. I bet you beat up Olivia because you see her as being happy and normal, having lots of friends, loved by her parents. And grandparents. And cousins. You want to make her unhappy like you are. Right?”
She began to cry again. Feeling deeply, truly understood–and forgiven–could sometimes do that to troubled people.
I moved to her side and put my arm around her shoulders. Pulling her close to me, I looked at Olivia. Pachy lay at her feet purring with jerky breaths. “Would you like to be Jennifer’s friend?”
“That would be nice,” Olivia said, smiling. “I liked her in first grade.”
“Jennifer,” I said, “do you want to be Olivia’s friend?”
“I sure do! More than anything!”
Olivia beamed.
“Well,” I said, exhaling. “The deal is sealed, as we grownups say on such occasions. I think new friends ought to give each other a hug.” I chuckled. “Just don’t step on Pachy, Jennifer.”
I took the rope from Olivia’s hand before they hugged.
“Olivia, when we get home, tell Mama and Daddy you have a new friend and you’d liked them to take you to visit her real soon so you can play together. Jennifer, why don’t you run along home now and tell your mom you’d like to have Olivia over once in a while. Sound good?”
She jumped up and down on the planks, tears running down her cheeks again.
I wagged a finger at the two of them. “There’s something I want both of you to remember all your life.” I waited until I was sure I had their full attention. “Every mean person you meet hurts inside.” I palmed my chest at the word “inside.” “People who hurt, hurt us. Never forget that.”
Waving goodbye, Jennifer dashed off to ride her bike home.
I faced Olivia. “Pachy’s in trouble, Sweetheart. I have to get it back home to its mama. It’s suffering from oxygen poisoning, my guess. I’ll take it back and let it out very near the time we put it into the car. Hopefully, it’ll smell mama and make a beeline to her. Every species of dinosaur has its own distinctive stink. I have a feeling Mama Pachy head-punched that daspletosaurus into oblivion, then started following little Pachy’s scent trail toward the car.”
She knelt beside Pachy and rubbed its back as it lay twitching. “It’s okay, Pachy. We’re going to take care of you.” She lifted her gaze to me. “Can I go back with you?”
I studied her for a moment. “You sure you want to do do that?”
“I want to say goodbye to Pachy.”
Pins and needles pricked my nasal passages . “We’ll leave right after we go tell Daddy and Mama you want to go to the park again for another hour. When we get back to Pachy’s time, I’ll let it out of the trunk really quick and we’ll take off right away. It’ll be a thousand times safer!”
She stared down at her hands resting on Pachy, sniffling. “I’ll dream about Pachy.”
I reached and squeezed her hand. “Pretty sure I will, too. Let’s get Pachy back to the car.”
We launched from Olivia’s driveway again. This time our ascent stopped at ten-thousand feet. We were ready to plunge into the long-ago past again.
“Sweetheart, after this trip, I’m removing the time machine from the car. It’s too dangerous. Somebody might discover it one day.”
Olivia nodded. Smiling, she cleared her eyes. “Grandpa,” she said, her mask muffling her voice, “what’s gonna be our next pretend adventure at the swing?”
I couldn’t stop myself from giving her a sidelong grin and saying, “You’ll see.”
Relevant Matters 