Partners in Time

By David Groflo

When Lester lost his job at a horse carriage shop in the North Central Virginian community of Viewtown in 1879, he felt obligated to leave his family and work a great distance from home on the Chesapeake Bay to support them. After departing, his wife, Clara, ultimately ends up living alone on their rural farm, creating within her a sense of despondency and resentment. This nineteenth-century family trauma in conjunction has a dramatic effect on another couple living in 2011 Northeastern Ohio.

Sara, the modern-day wife, begins to exhibit distant and odd behavior, causing her recently married husband, Tim, to be at a loss for any explanation why. The two separate time zone couples lives unconsciously interact, eventually leading to Lester and Tim uncovering a stunning enlightenment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503532397

David Groflo

David Groflo was raised in the mid-west and, by ten years old, was already fascinated with a potential aspect of time travel when becoming enamored by a television series, “The Time Tunnel,” in mid 1960s. This fascination continued throughout his life, branching into studies of a metaphysical nature. With a passion for writing also developing as years etched by, it ultimately led to creating this novel, “Partners in Time.”

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Copyright © 2015 by David Groflo.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 02/20/2015

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Dear Reader,

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

About the Author

Summary

Acknowledgments

On behalf of Mary Jo (Bugsy), who has truly been my partner in time and was a tremendous inspiration in the writing of this book. Despite my countless mistakes over the years with her as my wife, companion, and friend, Bugsy somehow always maintained incredible strength and devotion in our relationship.

I am also deeply grateful to my deceased mother, Mary the hardest-working person I ever knew. The best cook who prepared everything old fashioned and from scratch. Every day of the week meant a different household chore would faithfully be completed by her, whether it was laundry, ironing, dusting, vacuuming, etc. She did all these full-time tasks without complaint; and yet in conjunction, she still managed to be employed outside the home.

To these extraordinary women I owe a great amount of gratitude.

I love you both dearly.

Dear Reader,

This book was written out of my passion for the notion of a continuous one time existence. I wanted to present two distinct karmic lifetimes that are apparently occurring simultaneously. So in this regard, Partners in Time was constructed as a fun experience.

With respect to the structure of the story itself, certain events happening in both dimensions have been created with a unique synchronism. The dates, names of towns, and even the characters, are displayed in a way to augment connectivity between the lives of an 1800s couple and a modern-day pair. Thus the novel was devised in such a way that conditions happening in nineteenth-century Virginia would have a direct effect on Sara and Tim of 2011, as represented in parallel time.

It’s also important to note that all town names are legitimate; however, most of the establishments are purely fictional, created to enhance the situations. There are a few instances, however, where I mention businesses and roads that actually exist in modern-day Ohio, but not all.

Chapter 1

The sky appeared somewhat hazy as Tim negotiated the highway in his three-year-old green Ford Explorer. He couldn’t help but notice the cloud formations that ever so gently floated about on this pleasant summer day in mid-July 2011. Although it was a habit of his to observe these clusters, on this Friday, everything felt almost a bit portentous. Not threatening, just encompassing in thought, as though there was a perception to be grasped in the overlay.

Strange, he softly whispered, brow furrowed in contemplation. It seemed a tad different this afternoon as an old station wagon swiftly passed in the oncoming lane.

He had several items to pick up at the nearby grocery store on his way home, so he quickly became preoccupied with more immediate concerns such as what he was going to cook for dinner. He was always the one preparing meals for himself and Sara, his wife of six months.

Tim Campbell was a rather plain-looking man. He was twenty-five years old, had light skin, was of medium height and build, and had dark brown eyes and hair, which he wore shortly cropped. He could be somewhat of a loner, who found enjoyment in the subtle aspects of life.

Ah, here we go. He eased gently into the Giant Eagle supermarket, where he would get tonight’s menu items.

He parked at a reasonable distance in a busy lot and then exited and hustled quickly into what was a crowded food mart on a late Friday afternoon. However, with Giant Eagle being a large full-service grocery, that was hardly unusual in this immensely hectic suburb.

Inside, Tim twisted by numerous shoppers and then marched swiftly toward the seafood aisle located in back by the deli. He halted momentarily en route, tempted by a tray of sample munchies.

Naw, he mumbled, deciding against it and smiling at the older woman manning the stand after he had taken a haphazard gander at only the cheese and crackers.

Moments later, after sauntering near the seafood aisle he wasted little time scanning the many varieties being offered in a chilled glass display case. Let’s see, he murmured, cupping his chin and eyeing all the selections presented—but only temporarily, as he ultimately bowed to the salmon fillets—one of his and Sara’s favorites.

Can I help you, sir? a middle-aged woman wearing a blue apron and a hairnet asked seconds later.

Tim glanced toward the frail coarse lady, and quickly pointed to an Alaskan variety. I would like about a half pound of salmon, please. Standing not much higher than the counter, she nodded, said Sure, and then quickly took a piece of cut fillet that matched his request and tossed it onto a nearby scale.

Eyeing the weight, she asked, It’s a little over half a pound. Is that OK?

Tim curled his bottom lip and shrugged. Yes, that’s fine. Then he stepped aside so a young lady nearby could view the display.

He listened to a boisterous couple several feet away banter over what lunch meat to purchase, while the deli employee wrapped his fillet and then attached a price sticker to it before handing it to him across the metal countertop.

Thanks, Tim said politely.

Sighing, he clutched the small white package and turned and peered around the cramped store as people, most with shopping carts milled about.

Tim flipped bundled item in his hand. What else do I need? he wondered. I have brown rice and lettuce at home, he mumbled as he made his way down the bread section.

Ah, how about a yellow squash. His voice echoed just above a whisper.

Wasting no time, he then hustled further through the crowded grocery store, darting past several aisles before ambling down the broad expanse of the produce section. He walked past crates of fruit and vegetables, not to mention hasty onlookers, until he found what he was looking for.

Tim momentarily placed a contemplative finger to his lips as he inspected the crate of squash for several minutes until he finally selected one with the proper texture. This one seems OK, he uttered softly under his breath.

Tim placed the squash in a semi-clear plastic bag and then headed toward a nearby checkout counter.

He anxiously hustled in line behind five other shoppers and quickly eyed the cart of a young woman directly in front of him. He furrowed his brow in disgust. .

This register’s supposed to be for ten items or less, he thought, observing that she had twenty or more items.

As minutes passed, he deliberately showed his displeasure by huffing occasionally and forcibly shuffling his feet, especially when she edged to the register.

Before long, though, all was forgotten when he finally paid for his purchase and then, much relieved, departed the grocery store.

The market he frequented was located in Strongsville, Ohio, a quaint medium-sized community that was an outer suburb of Cleveland. It was the same city where he lived and worked at a small computer components business as a shipping and receiving clerk. In fact, it was a convenient location to pick up quality dinner items on his way home.

Tim was certainly not a purist, but after a whirlwind romance and getting married six months ago, he and his wife Sara had been trying to be careful with their diet at suppertime, especially when at home.

Whoa! Tim exclaimed as he exited the supermarket’s parking lot and got onto Royalton Road, a busy thruway in the heart of town. It was now 5:30 p.m., and he had to suddenly step on the brakes to avoid ramming a car in front of him.

Moments later, as he made his way through such hectic traffic he wondered if Sara had planned anything unique for them this weekend. From his recollection, nothing was in offing at the moment.

Darn, that light just turned green! He reacted with disgust at a traffic signal as he waited behind a multitude of vehicles for another cycle.

I should move completely to the country where there is no one around for miles, he groaned, half seriously.

After much trepidation, he slowly eased through the heavy congestion and down a few side streets until he finally reached their street Old Oak Drive. This was actually more of the rural area of what is generally a busier suburb being filled with various older houses, and even a remnant of a farm or two. With his desire occasionally to live totally in the country this section of town was really quite private.

He passed various dwellings before he arrived at the house half a mile down street: 8873, as the address brightly painted on their silver mailbox said.

Made it at last, sighing, dispensed just above a whisper.

He pulled up to a modest tan three-bedroom ranch constructed in the early 1950s. Nearly an acre of land on this serene property was highlighted by a smattering of pines, several maples, and a very old oak tree. There was also a sparse field on either side and at the back of the property.

He and Sara bought this place when they married, and they had become quite comfortable here during that brief span.

The gravel drive crackled underneath his tires as he drew in front of a partially dilapidated separate two-car garage standing to the left just behind the ranch. Halting beside Sara’s light gray 2000 Ford Focus, which he affectionately referred to as the old jalopy, Tim quickly spotted a handful of deer streaming by in the open field catching his attention briefly. .

Moments later, after shutting off the vehicle, he peered toward his cozy house, relieved to be home after a long day at work.

Sara, I’m home, he bellowed after entering the residence and immediately looking around for her.

Most of the items inside consisted of what he and Sara owned before their marriage. The living room Tim entered was quite plain by most standards. A glazed walnut knickknack table sat next to an older blue couch behind a large picture window while two virtually decrepit easy chairs on the opposite wall gave the room identity. A fifteen-year-old twenty-inch television positioned in a scratched TV console also took up space. There were various landscape paintings hanging on the wall, but nothing of stature. An end table between recliners with a brass pole lamp attached was about it, besides the soft hickory-tinted paneling throughout.

Sara, uttered curiously he strolled across the room’s faded brown carpet.

The dwelling had three bedrooms adjacent to a hall leading from the living area. There was also a small kitchen with a partitioned utility section and adjoining dining room.

This house was perfectly suited for their income, which put them in the lower middle class. .

Tim carefully placed the grocery bag on the dining table and then gazed inquisitively around. He took a deep breath and then shuffled wearily through the place before arriving at the main bedroom, only to find its door closed.

He hesitated momentarily and then quietly opened the dull-white door. He observed his wife lying flat on their double bed.

This room wasn’t lavishly furnished as well; however, they made sure to buy a decent bed when they moved here. Two old dressers, one with a mirror and a nightstand holding a lamp was all that this drab beige room had to offer besides several generic decorations.

Sara lifted her head gently and turned onto her side, propping an elbow flush on the covered mattress and resting her cheek against her palm.

Are you OK, honey? Tim asked, remaining where he stood in the doorway.

Her expression lit up dramatically. Yes, just resting after work, she uttered gently, peering lovingly at her husband.

Tim grinned. Don’t blame you. Then he ambled to his side of the bed, plopping onto their mattress, with his shoes remaining off the side of bed. Facing her only inches away, he affectionately leaned closer and kissed her softly. Love you, he whispered tenderly.

She smiled. I love you too, she replied as they gazed passionately into each other’s eyes.

Sara, wearing blue jeans and a pink cotton top, was twenty-three years old, stood five feet three, and had medium-length curly sandy-brown hair and blue eyes. Her fair complexion and features suggested Slovenian ancestry. She was attractive but not overly fashionable, desiring only modestly designed clothes and jewelry. She also worked part-time at Macy’s department store at the town mall, which provided extra family income.

In fact, one day, about seven months ago, Tim went there to make a purchase, and that was when they met for the first time—at a display counter, with her being a salesclerk.

They started a conversation, and one thing led to another, including a bristling romance of only about a month before they decided to marry. In some ways, they were still getting to know each other.

Tim abruptly jolted from their bed, surprising his wife, and stood awkwardly by the dresser. I have to cook dinner, he said. I went to Giant Eagle and bought salmon. It’s on the dinette, so I have to get it under way. He grinned coyly.

Sara beamed at this. Sounds good to me. Then she playfully turned and lay flat on her back again. Let me know when it’s ready.

They both chuckled. Yes, dear. Tim gave the thumbs-up before hustling out of the room and back into the kitchen.

He quickly unpacked both grocery items and wasted little time assembling everything needed for tonight’s meal.

It being Friday and having just shared a warm greeting with his mate helped put Tim in a mood to create such a healthful entrée.

Lettuce, cucumber, tomatoes, he whispered as though reciting a verse while going into the refrigerator to get the required produce.

He kept an eye on the time and worked quickly making salads, boiling rice, baking the fish, and even setting dinette table. It was a chore Tim accomplished most evenings without complaint. Sara could cook but preferred not to; besides, he kind of enjoyed the task so it worked out well for their relationship.

Yow! Screeching Tim dropped a hot lid on the simmering brown rice as his cell phone rang unsettling him momentarily.

Hello, he bellowed while trying to shake off the burning sensation.

Hey buddy, you sound a bit edgy, the voice said. It was Ray, his coworker and friend.

Tim paused. Ah, not really. I just had something on a burner in the kitchen.

Ray laughed. You playing housewife again?

Tim chuckled. Always. So what’s up?

Just wondered if you two would be home later. The wife and I were going to drop by.

Tim looked agonized; he rolled his eyes. Uh yeah. I suppose that’s OK He paused. About what time? he asked hesitantly.

They had been working together at Logistic Equipment and Service for the past five years. It was a small company with only a minimum number of employees. Tim handled all shipping and receiving duties while Ray was the primary repairman. Although friends mostly because of their employment status, Ray could get on Tim’s nerves and be somewhat obnoxious. After working all day with him, Tim wasn’t always overjoyed to have Ray and his wife spend an evening in his house.

How about 7:30, Ray wondered, almost cackling.

Tim grudgingly glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Yeah, sure, that’ll be fine, he said with some trepidation.

Great! We’ll see you then, Ray said before the two of them bid each other good-bye.

Tim wearily slipped the cell phone into the front pocket of his dress pants. There goes my evening, he murmured as he went back to preparing dinner.

He peered in the oven at the baking salmon. I hope Sara’s OK with them coming over, he thought, not informing her immediately of Ray’s call.

***

They’re here! Tim shouted, gazing outside as a blue Ford Taurus entered their drive.

Sara! he called out to his wife. As the vehicle came to a halt, sunlight reflected off its windshield and created a glare that appeared to bounce off their front picture window. For a moment, an inscrutable sensation overcame him, almost as if a retrospective feeling briefly engulfed his logic, until their visitors exited the car. Not dwelling on it further though, he just shrugged curiously and went to the entrance.

Hey Tim, a spirited Ray greeted Tim as he and his wife, Lona, came in.

Ray was thirty-five years old, just over six feet, and a bit overweight, casting a protruding belly. He sported graying medium-length wavy hair and had a dark face with a slightly jutting chin.

Hello, Lona, Tim greeted while staring quickly at her large chest, which suited a heftier frame.

She was thirty-one years old and stood five feet six inches. She kept her dark brown hair to a shoulder length and wore speckled glasses.

Both Ray and Lona were wearing blue jean shorts on this summer evening, which made them look a tad plumper than they actually were.

Coors Light, Tim exclaimed as his friend handed a chilled six-pack of beverage to him.

Although not much of a drinker, Tim would consume a few on social occasions, but that was usually it.

Hi, Sara, both guests rendered simultaneously as Tim’s young wife walked into the living room.

You made it, Sara feebly murmured as Lona moved to give her a hug.

Where’s Billy? Tim wondered, referring to the couple’s ten-year-old son.

I guess he stayed outside, Ray answered, glancing toward the front door and shrugging nonchalantly.

Have a seat, then, Tim invited motioning toward the sofa.

Hey, where you going with that, ole boy, Ray lightheartedly remarked.

Tim paused on his way to kitchen. Oh. He chuckled as he popped a can out of the plastic holder and then quickly acted as though he was going to toss it to his buddy.

Whoa! Ray blurted, throwing his arms forward. He grinned. If you do that, your living room will be redecorated with Colorado’s finest.

Tim’s eyes widened. On second thought, he said, deciding to stroll toward his coworker to cautiously hand him a beer, sparking a moment of gaiety among them.

Seconds later, after the jovial round, Tim asked, Lona, would you like a wine cooler?

Yes, please.

I’ll get it, Sara chimed in and then hastily went off to the kitchen to get one for both of them.

Tim settled in the recliner opposite their company. I’m glad it’s the weekend, he said.

Ray nodded, So what are you two going to do the next few days? he asked, snapping the top of the aluminum can.

Tim suddenly appeared uncomfortable, hesitating momentarily, and even glancing at his wife, who just then was gliding past with the ladies’ bottled drinks.

Oh, we have some errands to run, things we need to get done, Tim uttered sheepishly, slightly looking away, aware that they had no plans but didn’t want to let on that they didn’t. He desired a quiet weekend with Sara, and he wasn’t going to provide an avenue for Ray and Lona to make arrangements with them—not this Saturday or Sunday anyway.

Ray shrugged indifferently. Oh. And then he chugged a large gulp of beer.

Tim squirmed and then rose partly from his recliner. What’s Billy doing outside? he blurted, as much to change the subject as anything else.

Lona turned abruptly and gazed out of the picture window directly behind her. Not seeing their boy prompted enough concern for her to go out and check on him.

He’s OK, honey, Ray bellowed after taking another sip of his beer.

Nonetheless, Lona went outside to investigate.

That lady worries too much, Ray complained after Lona was gone.

After Ray had idly gone on about his wife’s extreme cautiousness with their son, Lona returned a few minutes later.

He’s fine just playing in your backyard by that oak tree, she murmured, a smidgen out of breath.

Told ya, Ray chided her, slapping her bottom as she walked by in front of him to take a seat.

You! Bristling, she turned and punched him in the chest before forcibly sitting on his lap.

Oh my God! Ray screeched, gasping, bug-eyed as her weight crashed down on his legs.

Get him, Lona, Sara incitingly chided as Tim, laughing, rolled in the chair, for as much reason that he changed an uncomfortable subject as anything else. Of course, Lona’s hefty build landing on his friend was certainly funny enough on its own.

Ah, don’t! Lona pleaded while Ray tickled her side as the two continued being playful with each other.

Tim turned to Sara and gave her a loving jab.

She grinned and winked in reply. .

I didn’t know you were ticklish, Ray giddily said, continuing to poke his wife as she tried to break loose by attempting to push aside his hands.

You did too! Now stop!Lona bellowed.

The loud screech echoed in Tim and Sara’s ears, causing them to wince.

Finally, after their brief encounter, the animated couple separated, but not before Ray leaned over and gave his wife an uninvited kiss on the cheek.

Get out of here! Lona yelped, shoving him in the process.

Tim clapped in amusement as Sara and he laughed watching this playful encounter.

I better get you another beer, Tim suggested as Ray began chugging the current one, apparently having worked up a large thirst.

You might as well, a dour Lona recommended. Because that will be his only partner tonight. She cast her husband a fairly sinister look.

Ray smiled. Just like every evening, honey.

She slapped him rather harshly on the arm. I’ll remember that, she chided.

Chuckling, he took a last gulp of Coors Light. I’m sure you will, he said, rolling his eyes in agreement.

Ray and Lona continued horsing around for a while, much to the amusement of their hosts.

Afterward, the couples shared what amounted to idle conversation, along with several more laughs over an amplified few hours before the visiting pair eventually left at about 10:30. Tim consumed two beers during this relatively uplifting evening, while Ray put away the other four. Sara only managed half a bottle of wine cooler while Lona drank two.

With their friends’ insistence, they agreed to get together again next weekend although Tim, of course, would see Ray at work Monday.

While Tim enjoyed this evening’s company and their jovial nature, after three hours of socializing, he was relieved