Somewhere In Time: A Priceless Time Travel Tale

By Suzy McKay and Cal Orey

A young woman’s wit and heart of gold whisks her into the world of time traveling to save her school choir and help people in need, as she leads a kindhearted life. Her good Samaritan deeds—like a 21st century Disney feel-good Pollyanna—Tory changes the future as she experiences exciting time loops.

Enter the adventures of TORY BOWERS, a high school junior who lives in Denver, Colorado and morphs into a time traveler in search of saving her high school choir and notable to earthy people in the 1800s (abroad to the Eastern seaboard onto the Golden State in the Wild West Coast).

In the beginning, blindsided by losing the school choir to challenges, Tory meets an energetic 16-year-old football player. The opposites attract couple connect as they try to save the high school choir and end up falling into the world of time travel which is a road to reaching their goal together.

Tory is a bright and adventurous heroine, spellbound by TATE WILLIAMS, a young man easy on the eyes who rescues her in both their time traveling and present-day events. While the couple and their friends go on a rescue mission somewhere in time, they land in a world of helping others in need. The amazing surprise is that by spinning their wool bracelets (a gift from their teacher) takes them back to the past—but it’s the power of kindness and the right timing and place thanks to time travel that helps to save the teens’ yesteryear friends’ lives and preserve their beloved choir for the school, community, and their passion for the sound of music that resonates in time worldwide.

If you liked the positive film Groundhog Day with time loops, those spicy adventures in Harry Potter, and the good vibrations of High School Musical, you’ll love this one-of-a-kind timely and timeless saga. Most importantly, the theme of kindness and its miracles put to work by selfless teens, plays a major role in the moving stories, past and present in time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9798823018562

Suzy McKay

SUZY MCKAY was educated at the University of Utah where she graduated in history. She has been a teacher on the high school level for three decades. She and her two children and five grandchildren live in Utah. CAL OREY, M.A., is a bestselling author-novelist specializing in YA topics such as adventures, relationships, and history. She holds a bachelor’s degree and master’s degree in English (Creative Writing) from San Francisco State University. Her books include the Healing Powers series. She lives in northern California. Her website is www.calorey.com

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© 2024 Suzy McKay and Cal Orey. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the authors.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/05/2024

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1857-9 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-2022-0 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1856-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023922858

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously.

To

Dear Sam, Max, Colt, Tessa, and Bear

Contents

Prologue

Part 1: HOW TIME FLIES

Chapter 1 Songbirds Soar

Chapter 2 Coal Mine

Chapter 3 The Robertsons

Part 2: TWO WORLDS

Chapter 4 From Wales to Lincoln High

Chapter 5 Sailing to America

Chapter 6 Sharing their Secret

Chapter 7 Overboard!

Chapter 8 Boston

Chapter 9 A Job for Jeannette

Chapter 10 Making History

Chapter 11 Dorothy Gets Sick

Part 3: THE CLOCK IS TICKING

Chapter 12 The Fundraiser

Chapter 13 Homecoming

Part 4: BACK TO THE PAST

Chapter 14 From Boston to Los Angeles

Chapter 15 The Stagecoach

Chapter 16 Danger Ahead

Chapter 17 At the Changing Station in Wichita

Part 5: PERFECT TIMING

Chapter 18 Homecoming Parade

Part 6: IT’S ALL ABOUT TIMING

Chapter 19 The Game

Chapter 20 Gold Fever

Chapter 21 Paying It Forward

Chapter 22 The Junior Choir Concert

About the Authors

Prologue

September, 1864

Boston, Massachusetts

Tate spoke up. We haven’t even seen Dorothy, but thanks for the warning. No way have we ever been around anybody with smallpox. It has pretty much died out where we come from.

Died out, you say? Why, how can that be? Where do you come from, my boy?

Oh, uh, way out west, sir. Anyway, Cade and I will be sure to escort these lovely ladies to Melanie’s Mercantile.

As Jeannette and her friends waved goodbye to Dr. Morgan, she shouted, Oh, do hurry, Dr. Morgan! Do hurry. Save our dear Dorothy!

The doctor hollered at the fine-looking chestnut gelding and gave him a thump with his reins.

As the doctor drove away, Jeannette noticed Cade’s melancholic countenance. She asked, What are ye thinkin’, me love?

Ach, I was remembering aboot me own poor maither who died of smallpox, and I wish that dreadful disease had been eradicated in Wales. In great distress, Cade began to sing a sad song. Smallpox, that dreaded disease. It takes you with no ‘if you please.’ Nobody’s safe, nobody’s free. If you get the mark, you’ll be seized with the wicked, bloody, dreadful, dreaded disease!

Jeannette hurried to Cade’s side to comfort him. Both Tate and Tory joined Jeanette to offer support.

The four of them walked on wooden boards down to the clothing shop and in through the front door. I’m glad we are here, said Jeanette. I will burn this dress I have on, as the doctor suggested. I don’t want other people to worry that I might be contagious. Turning to the others, Jeannette asked, Are you goin’ ta buy some new clothes too? Cade nodded. Aye, that might be a good idea for me since I did see Dorothy.

Tate agreed. I guess I will, too, just to be on the safe side.

As Cade and Jeannette walked away, Tate whispered to Tory, If we go up to pay for our clothes, the cashier will see how different our dollars are.

I was thinking the same thing. I wonder if she will barter with us. You know, trade something we have, instead of money.

Let’s ask her.

They all picked out some clothes, then Tory walked up to the cashier and handed her some money.

The cashier stared at it. I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.

Okay, I understand. Is there something we can give you in trade?

The cashier said, Yes, we can do that. I’m the owner of the store. I like that wide, black bracelet you’re wearing. What is it?

It’s a watch, but it will only work until the batteries die, and there aren’t any batteries for sale around here.

The cashier gave Tory a quizzical stare. That’s okay. I like the looks of it. I’ve never seen a timepiece that looks anything like that. I will trade you that watch for the clothes you have picked out.

The cashier wrapped the clothes in brown paper and tied them with string. The foursome walked out of the shop, happy with their purchases.

I said, I didn’t see any jeans for women, only dresses. Hey . . . I just remembered that the theme for the homecoming parade for juniors is the Wild West. I can wear my new old-fashioned dress in the parade. It will be perfect.

Homecoming parade? asked Jeannette.

Oh, uh, yeah, it’s a parade we have at school. We actually have to head back home to prepare for it. I’m so sorry we are always in a rush to get back.

Tory said apologetically, We haven’t helped you get to California yet, so we will be back as soon as we can. I’m so sorry we gotta leave again.

We understand. We hope to see you a week from Friday. That’s when we will board the steam locomotive bound for St. Louis.

You can count on it. We will work it out somehow. Tate shook their hands.

Look for us. We really want to help you guys.

As the time travelers waived goodbye, Tory furtively glanced up and down the road, looking for a hole in the ground to jump into to get home.

Keep your eyes open for a hole to jump into and something shaped like a pyramid.

Definitely. I’ve got football practice at five. That gives us an hour to get back home.

We’ll find both those things somehow. Tate nodded.

Walking down what was considered Main Street, Tory brushed away the dirt that blew into my face. I was deep in thought.

Oh, Tory with the beautiful eyes, what are you thinking about?

Tory smiled. Can you believe President Lincoln is alive right now? I wish we could tell everyone the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution will be passed in January and the Civil War ends in April.

It’s so cool you know so much about President Lincoln, Tory said. It’s so awesome the president kept the Union together and ended slavery. He was a man of integrity.

He really was kind and compassionate. He proved it when he wrote his second inaugural address. It’s cool we both have a copy of it and the Gettysburg Address on the back of our student ID cards and that they have the entire student body memorize these speeches to get credit in our history classes.

Tate grimaced.

Tory asked, What’s wrong? You look like you’re in pain.

I just wish we could change history and go to the White House to warn President Lincoln to stay away from Ford’s Theater in April.

Tory nodded. I hear ya. I wish we could book a flight to tell him.

I wish I could text him, said Tate. This is definitely the bad part of time travel—not being able to change the bad things.

After sitting in silence for a while, Tate reached for Tory’s hand and quietly said, Tory, we better get back home. We’ve spent our entire Saturday here. Coach wants me back in half an hour.

Okay. Let’s get you back in time for practice, Tory said.

Both were scanning Main Street for an escape route when Tate noticed a farmer digging several postholes around his property. The farmer then placed some boards in the holes. It was obvious to Tate the farmer was building a fence. Extra boards were stacked up against a tree in the form of a pyramid. Tory saw it too. Tate squeezed her hand and smiled at his traveling partner. She smiled back. They had found their passage home.

Part 1

How Time Flies

"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our

exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place

for the first time."

— T. S. Eliot

Chapter 1

Songbirds Soar

What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?

—Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Present-Day, Denver, Colorado

Autumn, the Choir Classroom

I first spotted him in Lincoln High’s junior choir class on Monday morning. For a moment it was like watching Zac Efron dancing in High School Musical, a popular teen film. Sort of. I clumsily dropped one of my science textbooks onto the floor, and that’s the first time when my eyes met his handsome baby blues like a Siamese cat. It was like at first sight.

Are you trying to be the smartest student in school or what? He asked me, a noticeable 16-year-old bookworm. I froze. I blushed. I was at a loss of witty words to toss back at him.

He’s an arrogant jock, I thought. Touchdowns and playoffs. But with ease he rescued my Chemistry 101 book stuffed with music notes and dashed back to the middle row. I didn’t have to respond to his question because I was saved by the bell or in reality Ms. Jones.

Good morning, students. I trust you enjoyed your summer break and are ready to sing your hearts out like songbirds, she exclaimed. Ms. Jones, a middle-aged woman who was a tallish fashion model-type, clad in a colorful dress like an exotic bird. Well, the good news? We have many exciting choir concerts scheduled, and I look forward to teaching you how to improve your voices so we can be a topnotch choir. Then she said slowly, I’m heartbroken to say this, but . . . I . . . it may be our last year for choir classes.

After gasps and sighs from my classmates, all juniors, several hands darted up in the air.

The teacher called on my self-confident athletic book savior. Yes, young man, what’s your question, and what’s your name?

Tate. Tate Williams, ma’am. So why won’t there be a choir program next year? We’ve always had awesome junior choir, concert, and glee choirs. What’s up?

Money. Or should I say lack of for the program after this year. Ms. Jones stretched her head like an ostrich and looked around the room. From the surprise on your faces, I guess this is a shock for most of you. I’m as devastated as you are, believe me. Unless we win the lottery, the music program will wrap up. If you can think of a way to magically concoct thousands of dollars, let me know. Go ahead and take a few minutes to talk among yourselves about any ideas you have for raising money.

How long? Tate asked in his bold style especially since he was just sixteen years old, like me. How much time do we have--? Tate was the football hero, but also did well in school. He wanted to get a football scholarship in order to play in the NFL after college, so he had to get good grades too. He was voted to be the captain of the football team, so he was very popular. He also looked for ways to help people who appear to be in trouble.

By the end of October, answered our teacher. The decision makers plan a year in advance. So, the clock is ticking to make a BIG difference. Time isn’t on our side.

When we heard the news, I looked at the students’ sad faces that reflected in the floor to ceiling mirrors in front of me. I was heartbroken to see such sad faces on the first day of school.

Ms. Jones passed out the sheet music to the forty students who were in attendance, but the large room could seat eighty students. When I glanced at the papers, it was obvious the theme was about showing the power of kindness. Ironic, I thought. We’re on the brink of losing our choir room but where are the compassionate people to help give us a hand?

Tate’s friend Matt was a tall, stocky, two hundred pound, studious-looking teen with shaggy blond hair and glasses. He looked up to Tate, a tall, lean muscular guy with a sense of sureness. Matt sat across from him, and leaned over and said out loud so we all heard him, Knowing the music program might be in jeopardy, I’m kind of bummed right now. And working against the ticking clock doesn’t help.

Yeah, tick tock, said Tate. Maybe we can earn enough to keep the class.

And maybe add big, panoramic windows to the room. Now that would be something to sing home about! I quipped from the back row.

The kids in the class laughed. But Tate agreed with my words. A room without a view is too confining. I didn’t like closed-in rooms or tunnels. Open spaces gave me a sense of control.

Everyone has the sheet music to ‘One Act of Kindness’, said Ms. Jones. Now, sing with a lot of enthusiasm. Give us the first chord, Melinda, and make that beautiful Steinway grand piano roar! We are grateful to the Lincoln High Foundation for donating such a magnificent instrument. Let’s hope it will be played for years to come."

The first time we practiced the new song, we stumbled over the lyrics and struggled with the notes.

We will need to work on the harmony, but not to worry—I’m sure it will all come together by showtime in a few weeks. Ms. Jones sighed.

Once we rehearsed a total of five songs, the bell rang, and the kids filed out of the choir room.

Tate looked from side to side as students bumped against his shoulders in the jammed hallway. I overheard the guys talking about me: Who was she? exclaimed Tate.

Who’s who? answered Matt. I overheard his words inquiring about me—and more while I didn’t let anyone see me hidden by a crowd of students.

That beautiful brown-haired girl who came out of choir class. I helped pick up her books she dropped. I lost sight of her as she left with a bunch of other guys.

Her name’s Tory, said Tate’s other friend Spock. If you’re talking about the hot girl with the long brown hair who laughed at my jokes, she sat right beside me in class.

You should have introduced yourself to her, said Matt.

No kidding, said a crestfallen Tate. I hope I see her again today.

Don’t worry. If you don’t see her again today, you will definitely see her in class in two days, said Matt, nudging Tate with his elbow.

"I know, but I doubt I can wait that long. I’m going to look for her at lunch in the commons.

We’ll help you, said Spock. Can’t let her get away again.

Hey, can you guys believe music classes might be canceled after this year? Matt said, changing the subject. Choir has been a special class at Lincoln for years. I’m so disappointed, he lamented.

Yeah, we’ve got to figure out how to raise money for the program. You guys got any ideas? Tate asked his friends.

Not yet, said Matt. Hey, we’re gonna be late! The three raced through the crowded hallway to the stairs that led to their second-period history class on the fourth floor. They were out of breath as they climbed the last flight, even though they were in good shape from playing on the football team.

Tate and his friends walked into history class and took seats in the rows closest to the teacher’s desk.

Tate said, Hey, I really liked that song we learned last period about school. The melody keeps floating through my head.

I don’t feel like singing, said Spock. All I want to do is sleep.

Gotcha, said Tate. Suddenly, he stopped talking. His heart fluttered like sitting in the dentist chair, but it was different. He couldn’t believe his luck—the girl who’d gotten away was sitting in the front row. He noticed an empty seat behind me and immediately charged toward that direction.

He tapped me on the shoulder. My jaw dropped when I turned around. He was even more easy on the eyes up close.

He gulped. Hi, I’m Tate.

Hi, Tate. Nice to meet ya. I’m Tory. I tried to act poised, but it wasn’t easy because I wasn’t experienced in the boy’s department. My focus was school, studies and more studies. Bookworm. As an overachiever, striving to get a 4.0 GPA. I want to be a doctor, so I need to take many anatomy, chemistry, and physics classes to get ready for medical school. I am athletic so cheerleading works for me. My tragic flaw is that I spread myself too thin and wish I could do everything in one lifetime.

The tardy bell rang, and the chatting stopped as Mrs. Finch, an older, plump but healthy-looking woman who reminded me of a wise owl with big eyes full of wisdom, began speaking to our lively class in her high, nasal tone.

She brushed her stylish cut gray hair out of her eyes and said, Students, welcome back to Lincoln High. I hope you all had an enjoyable summer break. Even though this is the first day of school, I’m going to tell you about the assignment due October 8. You’ll be writing a five-page research paper on a historical figure, famous or not, who lived in the United States in the 1800s.

A disgruntled student whined, A project already? But it’s the first day of school.

Now, I know it’s early in the term, but I want to make sure you have enough time to work on your essays. You’ll present your findings to the class on October 8, but I want you to have a name for me by this Wednesday and a rough draft to me in two weeks.

From his seat in the front row, Matt raised his hand.

Yes, young man? By the way, students, please tell me your names when I call on you.

I’m Matt. Do you mean we can choose anybody in history? Like a relative?

Yes, that’s right.

Cool. I’m going to research my great-great-grandfather who fought at the Battle of the Alamo.

At Matt’s words, a girl began to wave her arm furiously.

Yes, young lady?

My name is Maria Rivera. I’m going to write about my great-great-grandpa who was Santa Anna.

Laughter rippled across the room.

An impatient redhead raised both hands as she ferociously chewed her gum. Her phone rang, and she quickly went to mute it but dropped it on the cement floor. She scrambled to grab it, and by the third ring, she’d switched it off.

Remember to turn off your phones, everyone, said the teacher, sounding irritated.

Several students giggled and made absurd gestures with their own phones.