Smiling Through
Prologue
~December 7, 1941~
A light snow fell on the city and the wind blowing off the lake was enough to chill a man to the bone. But not this man, because he was warmed by anger. The rosiness of his cheeks wasn't due to the cold wind, but from the fire that burned within his heart.
His hand wrapped around the cold steel of the pistol in his pocket as an evil grin spread across his face.
Twilight was fading fast and the streets were almost empty. People were at home with loved ones, huddled around their radios, waiting for more news.
As he continued to walk, he tried to form a plan. He chuckled at the thought of a *plan*. His only plan was to make his so called friend pay. He had no worries about getting caught. He'd bought his way out of trouble before and he'd make certain, this time would be no different.
He entered the lobby of the Blackstone and met the eye of the doorman, who gave him a look as if he knew what he was going to do. The doorman had always given him the willies. He seemed to disappear as quickly as he appeared.
He nodded to the doorman and continued past him to the elevators and rode one up to the top floor. As he exited the elevator he noticed how dimly lit the halls were, how his shadow danced eerily on the wall. He shivered in spite of himself.
He needed to stay calmer. A case of the jitters would not help his cause tonight.
Finding the door unlocked, he opened it and entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. He made himself comfortable on a chair, where he sat in the dark and waited.
Chapter One
~December 3, 1996~
Gary poured a cup of coffee as he waited for his toast. The bread popped up and he buttered it heavily and added it to his plate of bacon and eggs. He picked up the plate and cup and walked over to the table.
Frowning, he set the dishes down and picked the cat up off the chair. "*You* don't get to eat at the table," he said as he dropped the cat to the floor.
Cat meowed softly and with a defiant flip of his tail, jumped onto the sofa and made himself comfortable.
Gary took a bite of toast before picking up the paper, then scanned the headlines for anything requiring his attention.
Suddenly the room grew cold and he shivered. He laid the paper down and got up and checked the thermostat, turning it up a couple of degrees.
He sat back down and continued eating his breakfast. The cat jumped off the sofa and sped by him, skidding as his paws hit the linoleum on the kitchen floor.
"What's got into you this morning?" Gary asked as he looked after the cat.
When he looked back at the paper, it had blown open. Gary's eyebrows knitted together as he picked up the tabloid, closed it, and stuck it under his arm as he picked up the empty dishes and carried them to the sink.
He looked down at the cat. "You behave yourself today. Don't be running through the place, helter skelter, while I'm gone."
~~~
Gary opened the door to the East entrance of the Blackstone and stepped out onto the Michigan Avenue sidewalk.
A strong gust of wind caught him off guard and caused him to stagger sideways a few steps. He regained his balance and waved at a cab heading south.
He stepped into the cab and pulled his leg in, narrowly missing getting it caught as the wind slammed the door shut.
"Violet's Bouquets on Wabash," Gary told the driver as the cab pulled into traffic.
As if the driver sensed Gary's urgency, he darted in and out of traffic, only slowing down when he came upon a red light. The car swayed from side to side as they waited on the light to change and the wind whistled through the cracked seal around the window.
The driver arrived at the destination and Gary asked him to keep the meter running; he would be back in a second.
True to his word, he returned a few moments later with a brightly colored bouquet of various types of flowers tucked securely under his coat to protect them from the fierce wind.
"Lake Shore Nursing Home," Gary instructed and gave the driver the address.
He gently laid the bouquet on the seat next to him, then glanced at his watch before removing the paper from his jacket.
'Elderly Woman Burned In Blaze'
'Anna Parker, 76, was severely burned yesterday morning at approximately 9:30 a.m., when a fire broke out in her room at the Lake Shore Nursing Home. Fire Chief, Andrew Columbus, stated the fire was caused by a faulty electric blanket on the victim's bed. Ms. Parker is listed in critical condition at St. Johns Hospital.'
The cab screeched to a halt and Gary returned the paper to his jacket and pulled his wallet out to pay the fare. He returned his billfold to his pocket and once again placed the bouquet under his jacket to protect it from the wind.
The automatic door slid open as he approached and he entered the lobby, his nose crinkling at the odor. He saw a young nurse at a desk and walked over to her.
"Uh, excuse me. I'd like to see Ms. Anna Parker."
The nurse looked up from her papers and smiled appreciatively at the man before her.
"Excuse me. Did you say Anna Parker?"
He nodded. "Is there a problem?"
"No. It's just that Anna doesn't ever have visitors. Are you a relative of hers?"
"No, no, not exactly. More like a...ah...friend of the family."
The nurse smiled. "And you brought her flowers," she said as she noticed them peeking out from inside his jacket.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I did," he stammered as he pulled them out.
"That was so sweet. Anna will be thrilled. Follow me," she said as she came out from behind the desk and started across the lobby.
Gary followed and as he walked, he moved the cuff of his sleeve and looked at his watch. 9:25. "Could you hurry, please? I don't have a lot of time."
"Sure," she said as she sped up, perplexed by the man's haste.
Gary pulled his gloves off and shoved them into his pocket as they continued down the corridor. Gently he took her by the arm and began to usher her down the hall.
"This way," she said as she turned right. She stopped in front of room 220 and slowly pushed the door open.
"It looks like she's still asleep. She'll be so disappointed she missed you," the nurse said as she stuck her head into the dimly lit room.
"Oh boy!" Gary mumbled under his breath. "Do you mind if I leave these for her?"
"Of course. I'll make sure she gets them," she said as she reached for the bouquet.
"No! Uh, I, uh, mean I, Nurse...What's your name?"
"Jackie."
"Jackie, it would mean the world to me if you could put these in a vase for her right now and I could put them in her room. It's been a long time and I'd just like to look at her. Surely you understand. I'll wait right here for you to come back," he said, turning on the charm.
"Oh, okay, wait here and I'll be right back."
Gary smiled warmly as she turned away. Quickly he grabbed the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall a few feet down and rushed into the room.
"Hey! You said you'd wait!" he heard Jackie call out. "What are you doing?"
"I smelled something burning," Gary said as he leaned over Anna's bed. "Anna, honey. Wake up. You need to get out of the bed."
"Get away from her. There's nothing burning," Jackie ordered as she grabbed Gary's arm.
"Let me go. You don't understand, that bed is going to catch fire," he tried to explain.
"Security! Security!!" Jackie cried out.
Anna stirred on the bed and Gary pulled away from the nurse's clutches. He grabbed the blanket and flung it to the foot of the bed.
"Come on, Anna. You need to come with me. Take my hand."
"My Lord! What is going on?" Anna asked, confused.
The nurse continued to cry out for security as she pulled on his coat and arms.
"Oh boy!" he muttered as he looked down at Anna, who was wide eyed and frightened, then to the blanket, lying innocently at the foot of the bed.
"Please get off the bed," he pleaded as he tried to reach the blanket to toss it to the floor.
Then, in a split second, they heard a pop, then a sizzling noise and the blanket burst into flames.
Chapter Two
The nurse screamed and let go of Gary. He immediately flipped the blanket to the floor and turned the extinguisher on it and put out the flames.
"Oh my God! The bed's on fire!" Jackie cried out.
Gary turned to see Anna struggling to sit up. He dropped the extinguisher and lifted Anna in his arms, away from danger. He gently set her in a chair before picking up the extinguisher and aiming it at the bed.
When the fire was out, he yanked the cord to the blanket from the outlet.
Anna's hand was clutching her chest and she was gasping for air.
"It's okay, Ms. Parker. The fire's out. You're safe now," Gary offered as he gently touched her arm.
Orderlies ran into the room.
"I think the fire is out, but you might get that blanket out of here, just in case," Gary stated.
"Anna, are you alright? Let me take your blood pressure," Jackie said as she began to fuss over her patient.
Gary backed silently to the door and as he turned to leave, he saw Anna shakily raise her hand and give him a wave and a smile of gratitude. He returned the smile and nodded as he made his exit.
~~~
"Good evening, Mr. Hobson."
"Evening, Boswell," Gary said to the doorman as he entered the lobby of the Blackstone that night.
"Another nutritious meal, I see," Boswell said, somewhat sarcastically, as he nodded towards the pizza box Gary held in his hand.
"Of course. It's got your 4 basic food groups," Gary replied as he gave the doorman a tired smile.
He nodded as Gary entered the elevator and punched the number to his floor.
Gary dug in his coat pocket for the key to the door, then unlocked it and shoved the door open. He tripped over Cat, who was waiting impatiently to be fed.
"Watch it, would ya? I almost broke my neck," he grumbled as he kicked the door shut and walked into the kitchen and placed the pizza on the counter.
"Give me just a minute, will ya?" Gary asked as he gently nudged the cat away with his foot. He opened the cabinet door and pulled out a can of cat food, popped the lid, and placed the can on the floor.
He washed his hands, grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, the box of pizza and headed to the sofa where he flopped his tired body.
He sniffed the air. Cigarette smoke. "What is wrong with people? This is a non smoking floor, but does that keep them from smoking?" he grumbled as he wrinkled his nose.
He grabbed a slice of pizza and took a big bite before turning on the television. He tried, but couldn't concentrate on the programming. He kept thinking of Anna Parker and the look in her eyes. She had looked so frail and frightened as he lifted her from the bed.
She was 76 years old and living in a nursing home where no one came to visit. He couldn't help but wonder what she'd been like when she was younger.
Chapter Three
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
"Hey! Buddy? You in there?" Gary heard Chuck call out.
He groaned as he sat up, having fallen asleep on the sofa, which resulted in a stiff neck this morning. He stopped and frowned as he heard the radio playing 'This Love of Mine'. He scratched his head. It wasn't 6:30 yet and he didn't remember turning the radio on.
As he staggered to the door, he massaged the muscles in his neck.
"Whatdya want?" Gary snapped as he flung open the door.
"Well, good morning to you, too, Sunshine," Chuck shot back. "You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"
"Sofa," Gary replied simply as he shut the door, then sniffed the air. "Coffee?"
"Like you deserve it after the warm welcome you gave me."
"Sorry, buddy," Gary apologized as he took the styrofoam cup from Chuck's outstretched hand. He took a sip, then closed his eyes and inhaled the aroma.
"Yeah, 'sorry buddy', now that you want the coffee. Speaking of warm welcomes, you need to turn the heat up. It's cold in here." Chuck shivered for emphasis.
"I know. I think the thermostat is messed up."
"You know, buddy, you live in a dump. A First Class dump. You really should find a better place. You'll never want to bring a woman back here to..."
"What are you doing here so early?" Gary interrupted. "The paper hasn't even arrived."
"Oh, I thought maybe we could get a bite to eat before you started your super hero duties today."
"Ha ha! Very funny."
"Meow!" *thump*
Chuck headed for the door, but Gary was quicker and cut him off. "Oh, no you don't!" he said as he opened the door.
"I'm hurt. Really crushed," Chuck said, placing his hand over his heart.
"Yeah, sure you are."
"Meow."
The cat sauntered into the room, paused, looked up at Chuck, put his nose in the air and continued past him.
"That cat doesn't like me. What did I ever do to him?"
"Animals are good judges of human nature, I hear."
Gary closed the door and opened the paper.
"You really wound me. What's with the snippy attitude this morning?"
Gary tossed the paper on the table after he scanned it for anything that needed his attention.
"I don't know. I met this woman yesterday and..."
"Aw, come on, buddy. You gotta share. What did she look like? Blond? Blue eyes? Figure to die for? Was she a save? Did she thank you with a *big*.....*kiss*?" Chuck finished with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
"Put a leash on your hormones, there, Chuck. She was a save, but she wasn't a hot babe. Well, she might have been at one time, but now she's just a lonely, old woman."
"Oh," Chuck said as he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He flinched then looked behind him.
"What?" Gary wondered.
Chuck shook his head. "That was creepy. It just felt like cold fingers wrapped around my neck. Are you gonna get a move on so we can go outside where it's warmer?"
Gary frowned. "Why don't you call Marissa while I'm in the shower and invite her to join us."
"Marissa? Why?"
"Fine. I'll do it," Gary snapped.
"I'm just kidding. Geesh. Touchy, touchy."
Chapter Four
"No blueberry pancakes today?" Marissa asked.
"No. Not today," Gary muttered.
"Why not? You love blueberry pancakes," Chuck chimed in.
"Not anymore. They remind me of Marcia."
"Man. Is it not enough that she ruined your life, now she has to ruin your favorite foods, too? Such a shame," Chuck said, shaking his head.
"Marcia didn't ruin Gary's life," Marissa interjected.
"Oh, really? He's in his early 30's. No job. Divorced and living in a dump. He gets a magical paper that leaves him no time for a social life and he can't or won't use it for financial gain. How much worse can his life get? Dying would be an improvement."
"Chuck! This is just a temporary setback. Things will get better for Gary soon."
"Hello? I'm still here," Gary interrupted as he waved his hand about.
"What? Did you say something, Gar?" Chuck asked.
Gary sighed.
~~~
Gary and Marissa said their good-bye's to Chuck, and Gary walked with Marissa to the El platform.
"I meant what I said earlier," Marissa said softly.
"Howzat?"
"About things getting better for you. You're just going through an adjustment. A major one. You'll just have to keep smiling through the hard times," she said as she gently squeezed his arm. "They won't last forever."
"I know."
"That's not what's bothering you, though, is it?"
"No. Yes. I don't know."
"Would you like to tell me about it?"
"No, it's nothing. Really."
"Okay. Suit yourself."
They continued to walk along in silence for a few moments.
"I met a woman yesterday. Anna Parker. She's 76 and all alone in a nursing home. No one visits her and I can't stop thinking about her. I don't know why. It's crazy, I know."
"It's not crazy, Gary. You have a kind heart and you see someone who needs help and you want to help."
"Help? How can I help her?"
"Be her friend. Get to know her. Let her tell you about the good old days."
"Hmm," Gary muttered. "Do you think she'd want me to?"
"I'm sure she'd love the visits, but all you can do is try, Gary."
"I...I think I might do that."
~~~
"May I help you, sir?" a sales associate asked.
"Yeah. I...uh, need a down comforter for a single bed and one of those covers for it."
"A duvet."
"A what?"
"A duvet. The cover for the comforter," she explained.
"Oh, yeah. One of those."
After hearing mind numbing explanations on the differences between all of the comforters, Gary finally chose one and decided on a soft floral print duvet.
The associate placed it in a large bag for him and within the hour he was at the nursing home, standing outside of room 220.
He knocked lightly on the door and pushed it open slightly.
"Oh! It's you. Please. Come in," Anna said as she smiled warmly and waved him into the room.
Chapter Five
Anna looked so small and frail as she sat in her chair. Her dull gray hair was brushed away from a face etched with deep wrinkles. Her hand shook slightly as she waved him into the room, but her blue eyes twinkled with excitement at having a visitor.
"Hi, uh, is this a good time? I can, uh, come back some other time," Gary said.
"No, no. I'm not doing anything but holding this chair in place. I didn't get a chance to thank you yesterday. You got out of here so quickly."
Gary dropped his head. "That's okay. I'm glad I could help."
"Please, have a seat. And your name is?" Anna asked.
"Oh. Gary. Gary Hobson," he said politely as he sat down.
"It's nice to meet you, Gary. Jackie told me you said you were a friend of the family. But that couldn't be, because I have no family," she said as she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Gary fidgeted in his seat. "Well, I, uh, didn't know how else to get in here."
Anna raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. "And why would you want to get in here? How did you even know my name or that I was here?"
"Oh boy!" Gary muttered softly. "Uh, oh, here. I brought this for you," he said as he handed her the bag.
Anna's eyes lit up as she accepted the bag. "A gift?" she gasped.
"Well...uh...I thought you might be able to put this to some good use."
Eagerly she peeked into the bag, then gingerly pulled out the duvet and down comforter.
"Oh! My dear boy! Whatever possessed you to do such a kind thing?"
"I...uh. I thought you might like something to brighten your room a bit and I thought...well, uh, the blanket was damaged...I had a down comforter once...and..."
"Your mother must be very proud of you."
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess so. Here. Let me help," Gary said as he stood and took the comforter from her and unzipped the bag it was in before pulling the item out. He did the same thing with the duvet and Anna helped him put it on the comforter.
When they were done they placed it on her bed and she gently caressed the soft fabric.
"I've never owned a down comforter before," she said softly. "I always wanted one, though."
Gary let out a deep breath. "I'm glad you like it." She turned to look at him and smiled and Gary got a glimpse of the young woman she used to be.
"Now. You were going to tell me how you knew I was here and why you came yesterday."
Gary gulped. He hadn't prepared himself for this and now he realized he should have.
"Well, you see...I...uh," Gary stammered as he scratched the back of his head.
Anna drew a quick breath and staggered backwards. Gary was by her side quickly, helping her to her chair.
"Are you alright?" Should I call the nurse?"
She patted his hand. "No, dear. I'm fine. I..." she paused as she dropped her head. "The way you scratched your head, just now, it reminded me of someone...of someone I knew a very long time ago. Someone I've tried to forget."
Gary sat back down. "We all have things in our past that we'd rather not remember."
She looked up at him as she blinked back tears.
Her moist eyes made him uncomfortable and he began to wish he hadn't come.
"It happens every year about this time. Try as I might, I can't stop myself from remembering," she said softly as she wiped her tears away.
"Who was he?"
"Gib."
"Howzat?"
"Gilbert Harrison."
"The one that got away?" Gary asked.
She sighed deeply. "No. Gilbert was...he was...the biggest mistake of my life."
Nervously she smoothed down the front of her robe and then fidgeted with the sash.
"I was twenty-one and it was right before World War II."
"Pardon me. I hate to interrupt, but visiting hours are over," Jackie said.
"Oh, uh, okay, Gary stammered as he stood.
He turned to Anna. "Maybe I can come visit again?"
She smiled. "That would be very nice. It's not very often a handsome young man comes to call on me. Thank you again, for my comforter. See what he brought me, Jackie? Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes, it is. That was very kind of you."
"Well, it was, uh, the least I could do. Good night," he said with a half wave.
"Good night," Anna said as she slowly climbed onto the bed and pulled her new comforter to her chin and sighed.
Chapter Six
Snow continued to fall as Gary trudged up Michigan Avenue to the Blackstone. His feet, hands and nose were frozen. His cheeks, chapped and red from the cold, and his jeans wet up to his knees.
"Hot shower. Hot coffee. Food. Bed," Gary muttered as he walked across the lobby of the Blackstone, his shoes squeaking on the marble with each step.
"Did you say something, Mr. Hobson?" Boswell asked, appearing out of nowhere, causing Gary to jump.
"Oh, nothing, Boswell. I was just talking to myself," Gary replied as he continued walking.
He stopped and turned. "Boswell?"
"Yes, Mr. Hobson?"
"Is there, well, I hate to complain, but I think my new neighbor is smoking and I can smell it in my room."
"Mr. Hobson, you have no new neighbors and your floor is a non smoking one."
"Oh, well, uh, someone is definitely smoking."
"I'll check it out for you."
"Thanks, Boswell. And while you're at it, could you have someone check my heater? I think it's trying to go out."
"Yes, Mr. Hobson."
~~~
As Gary entered his room, he once again smelled the faint odor of cigarette smoke and his radio was on, playing 'Stardust'.
"I know I didn't leave that on," Gary said as he turned the unit off.
He then went to the bathroom and quickly shed his clothes and stepped under the hot spray of water. The combination of heat and water beating down on him had the desired effect. He was relaxing and defrosting.
A good while later, he turned off the water and grabbed a towel. As he rubbed the terry cloth briskly over his body, he stopped, cocked his head and sniffed the air. "Coffee?" he asked out loud.
He put on his robe and opened the door to the bathroom and inhaled the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He sniffed the air again. Something else...what was it?
He walked into the living room and sitting on his table was a large steak, baked potato and a steaming cup of coffee, plus a frosted mug of beer.
He scratched his head and looked around.
"Meow."
He looked down at the cat. "You didn't do this did you? Nah." Gary shook his head to ward off that thought. Right now he didn't care if the food had come from the Easter Bunny.
~~~
Gary awoke to a meow and thump of the paper seconds before his alarm clicked on. Once again playing a 40s tune, 'Somewhere over the Rainbow'.
"What the...?" he grumbled as he tried to change stations, but that song was the only one the radio would pick up.
The room suddenly grew cold and Gary shivered. He grabbed his robe and put it on as he walked to the door to retrieve the paper.
Cat entered slowly, then stopped and arched his back. His hair standing on end.
"What is it?" Gary asked as he turned to look behind him, the hairs raising on the back of his neck as he smelled cigarette smoke again.
Goose bumps skidded down his arms and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the creepy feeling that had come over him.
~~~
An hour later Gary entered the lobby.
"Boswell!"
"Yes, Mr. Hobson. Good morning, Sir. You'll be happy to know, I checked with all of your neighbors and none of them have been smoking in their rooms."
Gary stopped short. "Are you sure? Cause I smelled it again this morning."
"Very sure. I checked the rooms myself and I have a very sensitive nose."
Gary scratched his head. "You didn't, uh," he paused and let out a nervous chuckle. "You didn't happen to bring me a steak dinner last night, did ya?"
"Why, no, Mr. Hobson," Boswell answered, then added jokingly, "Maybe it was the ghost."
"Howzat?!"
"Surely you've heard the story."
Gary shook his head, too stunned to speak.
"Back in 1941 a man was murdered in your room. It would have been quite the news story of the day, but it happened on December 7th, so a murder of a wealthy playboy, caught sparking his best friend's gal, wasn't near as compelling as it would have been. It is his ghost that reportedly haunts your room. Funny, no one has heard from him in a while."
Gary was sufficiently spooked. He thanked Boswell and left the Blackstone. As he walked down the street, a curtain in his room moved aside. The hair on Gary's arms stood up and he turned to look up at the Blackstone. He shook his head and laughed. "Since when do you let ghost stories get to you?" he said out loud.
Chapter Seven
That evening, Gary stopped by the library and went through old newspapers from December 8, 1941, stored on microfiche. It was late, so he quickly made copies of the stories dealing with the murder and headed back to his room.
As he entered, 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' was playing on the radio and a perceptive chill filled the air. He turned off the radio and turned up the heat, then grabbed a beer and the pizza box from the fridge and sat down on the sofa to begin reading the articles he had copied.
He straightened the papers and quickly scanned the account of the attack on Pearl Harbor before locating the article on the murder. Down in the bottom right hand corner of the front page of The Sun, was the story, titled 'Wealthy Bachelor Murdered in Blackstone Hotel.'
'Gilbert Harrison, 25, was shot to death last night at around 5:30 p.m. at the Blackstone Hotel on Michigan Avenue. Witnesses say they heard a gunshot and opened their doors to see a man running from Harrison's room.
The description of the man, fleeing the scene of the crime, fit Harrison's long time friend, Roland Sinclair, who has not been located at the writing of this story.'
Suddenly the coffee table shuddered and the sound of a gunshot split the air. Gary jumped up, dropping the papers he was holding. The radio clicked on and 'Somebody Else is Taking my Place' began playing.
Gary's heart raced as his eyes darted around the room.
"I'm not finding this funny at all!" Gary snapped as he got up and unplugged the radio from the outlet. He returned to the sofa and gathered his papers. He took a deep breath to calm himself, took another look around the room, then began reading an article from December 9, 1941.
'Blackstone Murder Suspect in Custody'
'Yesterday, police issued a warrant for the arrest of Roland Sinclair, 25, for the murder of Gilbert Harrison, after several witnesses placed him at the scene of the crime. He is the son of Martin Sinclair, owner of Sinclair Mills in Chicago.
The suspect was apprehended at Union Station as he was attempting to board a train bound to San Francisco.
When the suspect was brought into the police station, a young woman connected to the two men involved was heard asking the suspect why he did it, to which Sinclair responded, "No one tries to steal my girl and lives to tell about it." Police immediately quieted the suspect and ushered him down the hall.
The woman has been identified as the girlfriend of Roland Sinclair, Miss Anna Parker.'
"Anna?" Gary whispered.
~~~
Gary had fallen asleep on the sofa, once again, and when the familiar meow of the cat and thump of the paper sounded, he rose to begin his day. As he attempted to get up, his feet became entangled with the throw he'd used to cover himself and he went down like a tree, his head glancing the corner of the coffee table as he fell.
"Damn!" he muttered under his breath as bright flashes of light blinded him.
He tried to get his feet loose, but the movement only succeeded in causing his head to throb. Carefully he wiggled his feet till they were free, then gently touched the spot on his forehead and felt a knot rising.
He heard the door open and slowly opened his eyes.
"What the hell are ya doing down there? You tie one on last night?"
Gary groaned as he tried to raise his head off the floor. "No. It was that damn cat."
"What cat?"
"What cat? The cat with the newspaper, cat. What other cat would I be talking ...?" Gary paused as he sat back on his heels and looked up at the man who had been speaking to him.
Starting at his wing tip clad feet up to the pleated, tan trousers and crisp white shirt with a brown and gold tie and brown blazer, to the felt fedora resting on top of his head and a trench coat draped over one arm. The man inside the clothes didn't look any more familiar than the attire he wore.
"Who are you?" Gary asked as he placed a hand to his forehead.
"Good Lord! Look at that goose egg. You must have really knocked yourself for a loop, friend," the man said as he tossed his fedora and coat to a nearby chair.
"Here, let me help."
Gary took his hand and got his feet under him enough to sit on the sofa. He closed his eyes and groaned.
"I'll get some ice to put on that," the stranger said as he disappeared into the kitchenette area.
Gary looked down and noticed he was wearing blue and white striped pajamas. "What the ...?" he muttered. He hadn't worn pajamas since he was a kid.
"Here," the man said as he returned with a tea towel wrapped around ice. "Ooowee! You got a doozy of a knot on your head," he laughed.
The man unbuttoned his blazer, then sat down.
Gary stared at him before looking around the room. The wall paper was no longer faded; the door frames and floors were no longer scratched or nicked and gleamed like they were newly polished.
He looked back at the man in the strange attire. "Who are you and wha...what happened here?"
"You really don't remember me, Gib?" the man asked.
Gary placed the ice gently on his forehead and flinched slightly. "No, you've got it all wrong. I'm Gary Hobson," he explained.
The man chuckled. "Gary Hobson, huh? I'm not some dame you're foolin', Gib. You're Gilbert Harrison, the one and the same that I've known since I was 10 years old."
Shock registered on Gary's face. "Gib...Gilbert Harrison?"
"Maybe I should take you to see a doctor," the man said as he started to rise.
"No! Just...who...tell me who you are?" Gary asked as a sinking feeling overcame him.
"I'm Roland. Roland Sinclair. We've been friends since we were kids and you stopped Jimmy Carmichael from knocking my block off on the playground."
"You're Roland Sinclair and I'm Gilbert Harrison?"
Roland nodded.
Gary groaned as he adjusted the ice on his brow. "Oh boy!"
Chapter Eight
Gary looked in the mirror and grimaced as he gently touched the knot on his forehead. Other than that, he looked the same as he did yesterday. But the man in his living room still thought he was Gilbert Harrison. And that man was Roland Sinclair, the man who killed him.
"Gib? You okay in there?" Roland asked after tapping lightly on the bathroom door.
Gary turned and slowly opened the door.
"Cigarette?" Roland offered.
"No, thanks. I don't smoke."
Roland frowned. "Ah, so you're quitting." He returned the pack to his coat pocket. "If you're okay, I really need to go. I'm supposed to meet Anna in the dining room downstairs and if I'm late she'll be sore at me."
"Anna?"
"Mmm, hmm."
"Do you mind, I mean, can I join you? Maybe coffee would help."
"Sure, just none of that flattery you use on her. You could make a guy think you was trying to steal his girl or something," Roland said as he turned and walked to the closet.
Gary followed him and was handed the matching blazer to his trousers.
"I hate suits," Gary grumbled.
"Since when?" Roland laughed. "You have more clothes in your closet than my own mother. Here," he said as he shoved a black fedora into Gary's hands.
He placed the hat on his head and slipped on the black, double breasted blazer and raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror. Not bad, he thought.
Roland led the way down the hall to the elevator and Gary absorbed the new sights around him. The carpeting was a lush burgundy color with a diamond pattern. White wainscoting went up a third of the way on the wall and the rest was covered in English countryside murals. Brass light fixtures lit the hallway and a mahogany table and chairs sat against one wall. It was beautiful. Gary was finding it hard to believe this was even the same hotel.
When they stepped into the lobby, Gary caught sight of a red suited doorman out of the corner of his eye. He turned quickly but the figure was gone.
"Boswell?"
"That guy gives me the creeps. Always poppin' in and out all mysterious like."
"What's his name?"
Roland shrugged his shoulders. "Never asked."
Gary followed Roland into the Marble Room and looked around in awe at the sight before him.
The white marble walls gleamed brightly as ornate crystal chandeliers hung from brass chains throughout the room. An intricate leaf pattern was embossed in the thick green carpeting and the chairs and curtains were the same color green.
The tables were covered in white linen cloths set with white China with a gold lacework border and the Blackstone crest at the top, and crystal goblets. Crystal vases that held red gardenias stood in the center of each table while larger pots of the same flower were placed around the room.
"Good morning, Mr. Harrison. Mr. Sinclair," the maitre`d greeted as he took their hats and coat.
"Morning." Gary nodded as they were led to a table.
Roland smiled as he pulled his chair closer to the table. "We beat her here. Looks like *I* won't be the one in the dog house," he said as he winked.
Gary looked at the man across from him. He looked younger than his 25 years and had sandy brown hair, slicked back from his face. He had dark brown eyes, the color of coffee. He was about Gary's height and quick to smile, but there was something about his eyes that unsettled Gary.
Gary closed his eyes and willed himself to wake up.
"Good Lord! Gib! What happened? Are you okay?"
Gary opened his eyes and looked into a pair of blue eyes filled with concern.
Roland stood and for the briefest moment, he frowned. "You're late," he whispered, then raised his voice to normal. "He tripped over his own feet this morning and conked his head on a table. He's still a bit woozy. He thinks he's someone named Gary Hops...Hopson, instead of..."
"Hobson. Gary Hobson," Gary corrected as he stood.
Anna straightened and he felt as if he towered over her petite frame. She wore a long sleeved, ice blue, silk blouse embroidered with a brightly colored peacock over the left breast and a navy blue skirt that fell just below her knees. Her blond hair was cut short and curled close around her head and she wore some sort of thick headband that was covered in beads and netting.
"Anna. You look... swell," Gary said softly.
Anna blushed becomingly then nervously looked to Roland.
"You remember me, don'tcha, Anna?" Gary asked hopefully.
"Of course I remember you, Gib."
Gary ran his hand across the back of his head.
"I'm not Gilbert Harrison. I'm Gary Hobson. Look at me, do I look like Gilbert?"
Anna and Roland exchanged looks.
"You look exactly like the Gib I know," Roland replied.
"Anna, remember...the fire in your room and I bought you a new down comforter?"
She blinked. "No. Gib, there's never been a fire in my room and you never bought me anything."
Anna sat down in the chair that Roland had pulled out for her and he and Gary returned to their seats.
"I tripped and hit my head this morning and when I came to, I was here," Gary said in a low voice.
"And where were you this morning? Kansas?" Roland joked.
"No. I was in my room at the Blackstone."
"Well, at least you got that part right," Roland sighed.
Gary leaned forward on the table. "You don't understand. This must be a dream. It has to be. See, I don't wear these kinds of clothes and when I look in the mirror I see me." He held up his hand to keep Roland from interrupting. "And you," he continued as he pointed to Anna. "You're an old woman."
"Well! I'll say! I'm *not* an old woman!" Anna cried.
"Calm down, Gib. You're still a bit disorientated. You can see Anna isn't an old woman and we all wear clothes like this. It's the 40s."
"Exactly!" Gary said as he slapped his palm on the table, causing the glasses to teeter.
Anna's brows knotted in confusion.
"Roland. He's not well. You should take him to see a doctor."
"I tried that already," he said as he took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and placed one in his mouth and lit it.
"You mind if I have one of those?" Gary asked, overcome by an urge to smoke.
Roland shook the pack expertly and one cigarette popped out. Gary placed it in his mouth and Roland lit it for him. He took a long drag and blew out the smoke before speaking again.
"When I went to sleep last night it was December 5, 1996. Not 1940 something."
"1941. It's December 6th, 1941," Roland said. "I really think you should see a doctor, friend."
Chapter Nine
Gary forced a laugh. "I just need some rest. If you'll excuse me," he said as he put out his cigarette, scooted his chair back from the table and stood.
Anna reached out and lightly touched his arm. He looked down at her long fingers and smooth skin and realized the difference from the aged hands he'd seen only a few days ago.
"I'm...I'm okay, really. I'm going back to my room and lie down. I'm sure I'll be back to my old self in no time," he stated before walking away. I hope I will be back to my old self, he thought.
When he got back to his room, he took his blazer and shoes off and stretched out on the bed and covered his eyes with one hand, kneading the temples with his fingers.
He tried to clear his mind and breathe deeply. Things just didn't add up. There was no way he could actually be in 1941, and he didn't smoke and he didn't say things like 'you look swell', and he shouldn't feel inside the way that he did when he looked at Anna. It was like he wasn't really himself or someone else was trying to take over.
"What was the name of that movie? Invasion of the Pod People? Nah, that's not it. Chuck would remember," Gary said out loud. Thinking of Chuck made him think of Marissa and suddenly he missed them both.
He groaned and pulled a pillow over his head and rolled over; the next thing he knew, he opened his eyes and two hours had passed. He looked down at his clothes and sighed as he realized he was dressed the same.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees.
"Where is the paper? Where's that damn cat?" He looked up. "Does the Sun-Times even exist?"
He got up and walked to the door and opened it. Looking down he saw there was no cat and no paper. He closed the door and rubbed his hand over his face.
He was beginning to think this might not be a dream, but time travel wasn't possible. He shrugged his shoulders. But neither was getting tomorrow's newspaper today.
He walked back into the bedroom and grabbed his blazer, a top coat and his fedora before making his way downstairs. Since he was here, he thought he might do a bit of sightseeing.
His first stop was the Barber Shop, which in 1996 was a gift shop.
Mirrors surrounded the room, divided by white columns. On each side of the room there were four red and chrome barber chairs in front of white porcelain sinks. On either side of the sinks were marble topped mahogany tables that held the barber's utensils. Intricate molding framed the recessed ceiling and white marble tiles covered the floors.
"Time for another haircut, Mr. Harrison?" a barber called out.
"No, thanks, uh, I was just looking for someone," Gary lied as he turned and walked down the hall.
The Mayfair Room and the Balinese Room were closed until dinner, so Gary decided to venture outside the hotel.
If he thought the sight of the Blackstone was shocking, the sight of 1941 Chicago almost put him into cardiac arrest.
He looked across Michigan Avenue to Grant Park, then to his left where more than half the buildings he was familiar with weren't there.
He turned the collar of his coat up to ward off the cold breeze and began walking north on Michigan Avenue. After a few blocks he crossed the street and hailed a cab to the North Avenue Beach.
He was relieved to find a bench in his favorite spot. He made himself comfortable as he sat down and looked across the lake at the much changed skyline.
The Drake Hotel was still in clear view as was the Palmolive Building and Navy Pier. The willow tree behind him, that had shaded his bench during the summer, wasn't much more than a sapling now.
Everything was different. He stared off into space as his mind tried to sort through this bizarre occurrence.
Had he really been transported back in time? How could that be possible? And why? Or was it all just a really strange dream?
The breeze rustled a paper in the trash can next to the bench. Gary turned at the sound and noticed it was a newspaper. He leaned over and pulled it from the can.
Snapping the paper in the air, he folded it over to the front page and looked at the date.
December 6, 1941.
"December 6.....1941," Gary whispered into the wind. "Pearl Harbor."
"Meow!"
Gary's head jerked in the direction of the meow and he heaved a sigh of relief as he saw Cat sitting near the lake's edge.
"It's about time you showed up," Gary snapped. The cat stared at him calmly.
"Just what have you got me into this time?"
The cat didn't make a sound.
"Am I here to stop the attack on Pearl Harbor? Just how in the hell am I supposed to do that? Or am I supposed to stop Gilbert Harrison from being murdered? Or both?"
"Meow."
Gary wadded the paper up and threw it back into the trash. "Some help you are."
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