Another Time

By E.F. Mulder

Torn between two people -- the woman he married one summer after a very brief courtship and the troubled male student who lusted after him for years. Some might call Jacob’s feelings selfish. But he knew three things for certain. He truly loved them both, they all loved one another, and the two of them were taken from him and this world much too soon.

Science fiction has claimed for decades there is a way to manipulate the years, the days, the hours to our whim. Jacob, left alone with so much of his life ahead of him, becomes obsessed with figuring out how. Even if he can change the laws of time, he isn’t certain past events can be reversed and, if they can, what it might mean in terms of being with either one of the two who captured his heart, now or in some other realm.

Can Jacob recapture any of the time he lost with either Wendy or Rory? Or is it possible he might somehow find both the man and the woman he loves again in another time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Jul 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781634861526

Book preview

5

Chapter 1

The past…

June 18, 1970

The student looked like he’d just come from Woodstock the previous summer, all gangly, wild, stringy yellow hair, sun browned skin, and sweat. The teacher was more like a 1950s nerd, with his knit argyle sweater vest, slicked back curls and geeky glasses. Jacob Wright had a thick black mustache, at least, which made him almost look like an adult, though there were actually only five years between them.

It was finally the last day of school for Rory Rhodes—not just before summer vacation, but forever. He sat in the back of the classroom, on his desk. Just the other day, he’d admitted something. You know what, Mr. Wright?

What’s that, Rory?

"I suddenly realized this won’t be my desk anymore pretty soon. That makes me kinda sad."

Reclining against a bookcase now, slowly swinging his legs, two bell-bottom denim-clad pendulums moving one at a time, Rory’s dirty Keds cut the air with a blur of blue and white. He hummed The Long and Winding Road by The Beatles, and thumb stroked the smooth head of the eighth Grade Science class’s pet snake, Max, as Mr. Wright tended to some last day of school paperwork .

Rory? Jacob hated to interrupt the song—hearing Rory make music of any kind, that was special now—but he did.

Yeah, Mr. W.?

Did’ya pass your math final?

Jacob taught Earth Science to little kids and Physics to the bigger ones. He was also faculty advisor for Brookland High’s drama club and senior class, and Rory’s homeroom teacher. His final duty for the year was handing out caps and gowns to the soon-to-be grads, most of whom he’d known since they’d entered middle school. There was only one plastic-covered hanger left on the hook behind his desk. It belonged to Rory—if…

Got a hundred, the nearly-twenty-year-old stated apathetically.

Far out! Jacob beamed. Rory graduating was never a given. Then come and get it. Alone in the room with the lusty teen, rightfully anxious, trying to hide it, Jacob immediately rethought his words. Your cap and gown…I mean.

Nineteen seventy was a redo for Rory. He’d flunked his first senior year, in 69, and then dropped out. All through middle school, more than three quarters of the way through high school, Rory’d run track. He’d sung in the choir and played clarinet in the band—first chair all six years. He’d won the role of The Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz in eighth grade—eighth grade!—and got himself a standing ovation before intermission, after singing about his desire for a brain. Rory had gotten a lead—more often than not the lead role—in every production mounted in the Brookland High cafeteria/auditorium ever since, including what would have been his last, Don Quixote in the spring of 69. Rory excelled at art, as well. He’d taken it as an elective all four years. Miss Taylor, the art teacher, was his favorite faculty member by far, he’d told Mr. Wright. Well…maybe tied with someone else.

Though academic achievement had never been Rory Rhodes’ bag, though he’d been held back twice before, once in elementary school and again in eighth grade, he tried really hard. Rory was a pleasure to have in class, according to every one of his report cards. He’d managed mostly C’s, even the occasional B with extra help from Jacob and Wendy Taylor throughout his freshman, sophomore, and junior years, while shining at everything not taught from a book. A few months shy of earning his high school diploma, however, everything changed. Rory changed. Right after Christmas break of 1969, Rory developed an I don’t give a shit attitude that lead to him flunking several courses. He’d skipped track practices, even art class, and then, one by one, he quit all of his extra-curricular activities entirely. He even left Man of La Mancha, two weeks in.

Jacob invited him to his house one evening, for a serious talk. He tried to pump up his leading man with praise. You’re something special. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and loud music as they sat across from one another at the kitchen table. "Your portrayal of Curly last fall in Oklahoma…your vocals were as good as anyone on Broadway. Appropriately enough, Build Me Up Buttercup" came on.

Bullshit. But Rory wasn’t having it.

No. Jacob took his wrist, listen, while looking into his eyes. You can do something with this, with your talent. If not singing…the clarinet…

Fuck that.

You’re an amazing kid, Rory. Their hands ended up wrapped around each other. You’re amazing young man. It felt as if a line had been crossed that night—because it had. Don’t waste what you have, Jacob pleaded.

But Rory pulled away. I’m just not feeling it no more. He stood. Ya dig? It was the only excuse he would offer, as he abruptly prepared to leave.

Jacob wanted to stop him. Don’t… He wanted to reach out and grab him, for comfort, or maybe to shake some sense into him. He’d wanted to beg him, Please stay. But he had no choice but to let Rory go.

Jacob had witnessed the teasing first hand. He’d chastised the jocks for their name calling. Hey, Betty! Betty, as in Betty Goodman, was a favorite amongst the not so creative footballers, because of Rory’s instrumental prowess. He likes to play a girl’s instrument, ‘cause it’s like sucking on a dick, Peter Underhill had once said.

Enough, Peter! Jacob scolded the junior classman trumpeter right there, right in front of Rory. He’d made Peter apologize, and informed the overachieving asshole that just because more girls than boys happened to play the clarinet in high school, in the real world, it wasn’t that way at all. Sticking up for Rory had only made things worse. The harassment increased, and the day after quitting drama club, Rory quit the band.

"Don’t give up something