Chapter 9

I was in a real funk for about two weeks after Mom's death. Mom's best friend and her husband (Mrs. Lila Owens and Frank), came over about ten days after Mom's funeral. She had her husband take me out of the house, while she packed Mom's clothes.

When Frank and I got back to the house later that afternoon, all that remained was to put the full boxes into the back of Frank's pick-up, or I could store them. Lila told me firmly I should get rid of it all, as the clothes were only a reminder; and besides, I couldn't wear them. I grinned at this feeble joke. She was 'ok people'.

She told me she had come across a letter that I should read. Mom had apparently written it, just before she went into the hospital. It had been in the bottom of one of her clothes drawers. I nodded and watched as they left with all Mom's clothes.

There on the table was a white envelope with one word on it, written in my mothers flowing script: Son.

I sat down at the table and just stared at it for a while. I finally opened and read it.

Tom,

Your father and I thought for so long, that we were to be childless. Then a miracle happened. You were that miracle. We loved you from the moment we knew I was carrying you. When I heard I was pregnant, it seemed something in me melted. A warmth and peace came into my life I had never known before.

We watched you grow, but worried. We were older than most of the parents of your friends. Still, we watched with joy as you grew. We shared your excitement when you made discoveries about everyday things, bringing to us a sense of newness we had long ago lost.

As we got older, your father started to sicken. We hid that from you. We didn't want to hold you back. We knew you would have forgone school in order to stay with us. Now I fear it is my turn. I don't fear for me, but for you. I know you loved your father deeply, and it hurt you when he died. This is a part of life most of your friends won't experience for years to come, the death which comes for us all.

Son, don't give up on school. Don't wallow in self pity. Mourning and grief are a natural process, so don't hold your grief back. Let it out, or it will surely make you bitter.

I have been dreaming of your father, lately. The dreams started early this year. We would be in that field where we went to picnic all the time when you were little, remember? In my dream, I knew your father was dead, but he was telling me that it was almost time for me to come home to him. He said that you had a gift. He said you had learned to use it, and were responsible with it. I am not sure what he meant by this, perhaps you do? Or it could be just an old woman's dreams. In the earlier dreams he told me that you had a girlfriend, which you told me about when you came home, so I am of the belief that your father is talking to me.

Still, I can remember so clearly the last time your father came to me in my dreams. He looked happy, and said that we would be together in a few days. He said on the 10th of July we would be rejoined for eternity. As I write this, it is the 6th of July. Son, this dream seemed so real! When I woke, I swear I could smell that aftershave he always wore that you gave him that last Father's Day. So I am writing this letter to you... just in case. I will put it in my clothes drawer for safe keeping. Remember, your father loved you, as I still do. I am proud of you.

MOM.

I put the letter down, finally noticing the tears flowing down my cheeks. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt. The last part of Mom's letter didn't make to much sense to me. The only way it could make sense, was a little spooky.

While I believed in God, that belief did not extend to spirits visiting people in their sleep. Yet the evidence was here. She had called the date of her death, exactly. Now, how could she have known that?

Should I have told Mom and Dad about my gift when I first discovered it? No, I think I had done the right thing.

"Goodbye, Mom. I love you," I said out loud, then broke down and cried for my loss.

Through the remainder of July I was busy. There was a will. Mom left everything to me, with a couple of exceptions. I was already co-owner of the farm, so there were no taxes on it. But both the state and federal government took another hefty bite from the same money they had just bitten out of, a couple months earlier. Apparently when you die, you're supposed to pay another tax on money that had already been taxed.

I was outraged. Oh, I knew about taxes. But to tax someone who had just got done paying taxes, well, it seemed like vultures circling the body. I think that was when something solidified in my mind.

Someone should do a better job of watching "them": the government. Oh, they had their own committees and oversight groups, but do you really think they would seriously give themselves a black eye, publicly? Sure things got mentioned in the press occasionally, but that was usually due to exterior digging, not to the government watching out for the people.

I was going to use my ability, in part, to watch my government. I would watch both the state and federal sides. But I needed to finish school, first. And there was my girlfriend, Melinda, to consider. How much do I tell her? Or do I tell her anything at all? That decision, at least, I could put off for a while.

What I really wanted to do though, was to watch the past, and spend some time in Europe. I wanted to go back in time to watch and live history! There was so much that had happened in Europe that would be fascinating to experience. So, too, in America. But I was planning on spending a lot of time in the past, in Europe.

In early August, I made arrangements with the farmer who was renting our (my land, now) land. I worked a deal for him to look in on my house and have repairs done if they should be needed.

I also reduced the rent he had to pay, as an incentive. He accepted. I created an account that would pay the utilities. I wanted electricity and gas to keep going to the farm, even when I was not there. I know it is a dangerous thing to do, leaving a house for long periods with utilities still connected, and no one in it. But it would be visually checked daily, and he agreed to do a walk through of the house, once a week.

I packed all my stuff for college, early. My coins and other small valuables (such as my nuggets and gold dust) I put into a safety deposit box in a bank, close to my school. I dropped off all my clothes, and the other items I was going to use during the school year, in a self storage facility that was only twenty minutes from school.

I had this small storage locker that now seemed almost empty with just my few school items in it. I had arranged for another self storage space, indoors. There I put my 1844 musket, and the 1700's period flintlock rifle and pistol I had gotten from the grave site of the British officer. His sword I was going to take to England with me, as well as the maps I had found, with his other personal effects. I was going to return yet more pieces of the Avery-Smythe family's history.

I had done some research on the Avery-Smythe family. The first Avery-Smythe was ennobled by the king for helping to bring down Cromwell. He had been given a fairly large barony for his service to the king at that time.

Over the years, the Avery-Smythe's had prospered. They were staunch supporters of the royals throughout history, and subsequent lords and ladies of their family had been included in past kings' and queens' councils, and were friends with the royals as well.

There followed information on when the current Lord John Carl Avery-Smythe had been born and what he was doing. He was apparently following in the family tradition. He was a member of the House of Lords, and was also invited to Buckingham Palace on occasion. It also listed that he had a residence in London, and one in the country.

I took the sword, which I had bought a sword case for, and the maps. They were still in fairly good condition. I went to an international shipper, filled out the appropriate custom forms, and sent them on ahead of my expected arrival date. They would be waiting for me in London when I arrived there, safe and secure.

I don't like long flights. While not as bad as, say a flight to Australia, I had to fight boredom. So I did some research on the flight over to England. There were several time periods I wanted to go back and visit.

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