Chapter 71: Westward Ho!

December 15, 1990

My wife, fetchingly clad in Scarlet cap and gown, ran up and triumphantly waved her newly-awarded diploma over her head. "Here it is," she said with a proud smile. "At long last."

"Your reward for all that hard work, Doctor O'Malley," I told her, wrapping her up in my arms.

The graduation ceremony had been brief and somewhat subdued. "That's what I get for graduating in December," Inez pointed out. "The ceremony for May graduates is a lot more elaborate. But I don't care. It's the end result that matters."

Dave and Eileen, standing nearby, offered their congratulations. "Welcome to the club," Dave grinned.

The previous Saturday, we'd traveled down to Philadelphia to attend Dave's graduation ceremony. Now, with today's developments, the two eldest children of Jim and Ruth O'Malley were both married to doctors.

Despite the less than festive atmosphere, Inez had a large cheering section on hand. Most of the usual suspects were in attendance. Her parents had flown up from Florida. Everyone was thrilled to death for Inez, but at the same time, there was an undeniable aura of wistful melancholy. A few days after returning from New Mexico, we'd let everyone know about our plans to move.

Most affected by our announcement were, as expected, Mom and Dad. Of course, they were thrilled for Inez and the opportunity that lay before her. However, the sudden knowledge that their firstborn son and daughter-in-law – and their only grandchild, who they'd just been getting to know – would be moving nearly two thousand miles away was hard for them to swallow. We assured them that we'd be back frequently to visit, and they were welcome to fly out to New Mexico anytime.

Javier and Lupe were decidedly less affected. For them, the situation would merely create a plane ride somewhat longer than before. They were actually quite excited about the prospect of visiting us out west.

Going back to Mom and Dad ... it turned out that they had a double whammy to deal with. Just this past week, Dave had been offered a two-year post-doctoral research assignment at Harvard, starting next September.

"There's no way I'm turning that down," he told us all. "But here's the deal. After I'm done with the post-doc assignment, we're moving back to the Philly-South Jersey area. I'll find a job down here. Bank on it." Eileen nodded in full agreement.

The plan was for Eileen to finish out the year at the school where she taught. Dave had also managed to land a bridging short-term contract research position at a local pharmaceutical company, which tied in very nicely with their plans. They would be moving to Massachusetts over the upcoming summer; Eileen was still considering options of her own to pursue while Dave was busy with his post-doc work.

"Looks like we'll have to get used to traveling," Dad commented ruefully.

I had to play the part, but inside, I was not all that concerned about the physical distance. Here was yet another instance where my pre-knowledge gave me a level of understanding well beyond that of the rest of the human race. I knew that in the coming years, technology would make it easier and easier to keep in touch with family and friends over distance. Email would be widely used in a few short years, as the Internet exploded upon the scene. Cell phones with little or no long-distance charges would arrive on the scene somewhat further down the road. And when I began to approach my recycle point in 2007, there would be all sorts of innovative ways of talking in real-time over distance with friends and family, using the Internet to bypass the phone system. And on top of that, there would be instantaneous sharing of pictures.

Following Inez's graduation ceremony, we all headed out to enjoy a celebratory dinner at a familiar location: Margarita's. It had literally been years since I'd set foot in the place. But it was exactly as I remembered; the staff was wonderful and the food was delicious.

My wife and I were both looking forward to our move, and the new adventures it would bring about for us. But at the same time, there's much to be said for familiarity.

April 7, 1991

Albuquerque, New Mexico

"Second floor, first door on the right," I told the movers, as they began to struggle with our sofa – the largest item to be brought upstairs. I led the way as they maneuvered the sofa into our new apartment. It was empty now, but it wouldn't be for long.

This apartment was a temporary residence; we'd signed a short-term lease. We'd already made arrangements to purchase our dream home here in the area. It was a large home on a lot that measured well over an acre, and had been constructed just four years ago. The previous owners, obviously not inclined to put down roots for the long term, had left the area in search of opportunities elsewhere. They had customized the house's construction to their tastes, and those tastes, to put it mildly, didn't coincide with our wants and needs. Nonetheless, we loved the property and the location. We made arrangements to have the entire first floor renovated, the garage expanded, and an extension built. These improvements would take several months to complete, and it was our hope that we'd be able to move in by the fall. In the meantime, most of our belongings would be kept in a storage facility. The moving van had actually gone there first, and unloaded all but the bare essentials.

The van had left New Jersey one week ago. At that point, since our house already had a buyer lined up, we spent the next six days at my parents' place. The goodbyes had been difficult. However, we knew we'd be traveling back to New Jersey in a few short weeks' time, since both Seamus and Lisette would be graduating from college. Yesterday, we'd flown out to Albuquerque carrying only four suitcases, crammed with clothes and small essentials. We'd spent the night at Jason and Valerie's place, and gotten up early to meet up with the movers.

Later in the afternoon, the movers had finished their job, and everything was in its rightful place. Lexie, now ten months old and on the verge of taking her first steps, frolicked contentedly in her playpen. Valerie and Jason were on hand, and to toast the occasion, I produced a bottle of champagne.

"Once again," I declared, "here's to new beginnings."

September 21, 1991

My memories of that transition time, living in a temporary dwelling and experiencing the joy of discovering new surroundings, center on spending lots of time with my daughter, and writing whenever possible. In particular, I recall putting Lexie in her stroller and taking a leisurely walk through the apartment complex and surrounding neighborhoods on a daily basis. Many times, during the evenings, Inez would join us. She quickly became very involved with her internship, but was normally free during the evenings.

"I need to say it one more time," she told me one day, "but I love the dry air here. And I'll never get tired of looking at those mountains. We should try hiking one of these weekends. I'm not that busy."

I smiled in concurrence. "The best part of this place," I declared, "is that we get to live here."

Little by little, Inez began to accumulate hours toward her internship requirement. She would need three thousand hours of supervised experience, which meant that it would take her the better part of two years.

Of course, this is not to say that we forgot about our loved ones back east. We flew back to watch Seamus and Lisette receive their degrees from Rutgers, just as we'd planned. Mom and Dad had already paid us one weekend visit. Javier and Lupe also had plans to come out; they were waiting for us to get settled in our new place.

Dave and Eileen, meanwhile, had plenty going on in their lives, and we spoke with them nearly every single day. In addition to getting ready for their big move to the Boston area, they had joined the baby parade. In the early part of the year, they'd announced that they, too, were expecting a little one. In June, they moved to Massachusetts with Eileen seven months pregnant. In August, their first child arrived on the scene, a boy named Jaden.

Now, Dave had settled into his post-doc assignment at Harvard. Eileen was back at work part time; teaching fifth-graders at a public school outside of Boston, while Seamus had just started law school at Seton Hall University.

And at long last, my wife, daughter and I moved into our now fully renovated dream home. Today, a Saturday, was our actual moving day. By late afternoon, the movers had all of our belongings on the premises. A good deal of unpacking and arranging work remained, however, and Jason and Valerie were on hand to assist with that endeavor.

The home probably fell short of 'mansion' status, but not by all that much. It was superior to the luxurious residence I'd owned in the other timeline, by a fair margin. Containing nearly seven thousand square feet of living space, it was a two-story dwelling with seven bedrooms and six bathrooms. The newly-constructed downstairs addition held a full-size bedroom (nearly as large as the master bedroom), a large bathroom and an exercise room. All guests who entered were greeted by a spacious foyer with a hardwood floor. A curving staircase led upstairs from the rear of the foyer.

The living room, with an extra-large window facing toward the front of the property, was spacious yet homey. The dining room, with an elaborate chandelier suspended in the center, was large enough to host upwards of twenty people for dinner. There was also a large recreation room with a carpeted floor. To the right of the entrance was an office; this would be the domain of my wife, the Doctor.

We'd had the kitchen completely remodeled, with state-of-the-art appliances, and a huge island constructed in close proximity to the main countertop. Off to one side was a bar with a long counter, while at the other end was a breakfast area, big enough to contain a full-sized dining table, adjacent to a large bay window.

Upstairs, attached to the huge master bedroom was an extra-large bathroom, complete with a Jacuzzi unit. Lexie's room was straight across from ours. I laid claim to the bedroom on the southeast corner of the house, intending to convert it into my office. The windows on each side afforded a breathtaking view of the mountains.

The front of the house faced due south. It was set back from the road enough to accommodate a circular driveway containing a central island that housed a stately old tree. The side of the house contained garage space for three cars – one more than we needed at present. There was a spacious front porch which narrowed into a walkway with a handrail as one walked toward the corner of the house. This walkway wound itself around one side of the dwelling, before opening up into a roomy deck out back. Adjacent to the deck was something Inez had always dreamed of owning: a large rectangular in-ground swimming pool. The entire property was surrounded by a privacy wall. The community itself was quiet and distinctly upper-class, situated behind a security gate.

All in all, it was more house than we really needed, certainly at this point in time. However, we knew that we would frequently be hosting out-of-town visitors, and we aimed to ensure that they didn't want for anything while they were our guests. Flaunting our wealth was surely not our intent. Neither Inez nor I (at least this version of myself) were especially materialistic. But we figured, if we were going to go the extravagant route on anything, it might as well be our home, the place where we would be spending the majority of our time. We'd paid our dues; now, we wanted to spoil ourselves a little.

I should add that we paid for the home – including the renovations – straight up with cash.

Now, it was fairly late in the evening; the movers had long since departed the premises, as had our friends, on their way back to their own abode. Lexie was asleep in her crib. Inez went upstairs to check on her, as I wandered out onto the front porch. It was a clear and decidedly cool evening. As was the norm in this part of the world, once the sun was out of the picture, the temperature had dropped sharply. Soon, my wife appeared by my side. She'd donned a sweater, but even so, she shivered slightly as she pressed up against me.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she inquired with a curious expression.

"I was considering how ironic it is that this house is even more luxurious than the one I owned in my other life."

"Ironic? In what way?"

"Because," I explained, "last time, the price tag and the luxury was all that mattered to me. But you know what? That house wasn't a home. It was a place to hang my hat while I lived my life on the prowl. Now, we have this huge, beautiful place, and it's already more of a home than anything I've known up till now. And the amenities are almost secondary. It's as if the whole house is an expression of our love for each other."

Inez nodded, smiled vaguely, and then flashed an impish smile. "You're getting wiser in your old age," she declared. She never ceased to get a kick out of reminding me of my actual chronological age over two lives, which by now was closing in on sixty.

We stood there, snuggled up together, just looking out at the stars for a moment.

"Know what I'd like?" she suddenly put forth.

"What, angel?"

"I'd like to break in our new bedroom," she said in a soft voice. Even in the relatively dim porch light, I could see the desire in her eyes.

I merely smiled back at her, taking her hand in mine. I led her through the front door, and up the curving staircase, leading to our new lush private sanctuary.

March 19, 1993 (About eighteen months later)

"Let's go, sweetie pie," I said to Lexie, trying to put on her coat as she squirmed away. Now almost three years old, she was displaying some of the obstinacy typical of that age.

"Wanna watch Barney!" she protested, pointing at the TV. I just shook my head and grinned. I had to remind myself that in her mind, Barney was merely a cute singing dinosaur, not the Evil Purple Menace so loathed by many an adult.

"Let's go see Mommy," I told her gently. That broke the spell, and Lexie began chattering excitedly as I finally got her outside and into the car. She was far too young to realize that today had been a momentous one in her mother's life. At long last, Inez had completed her internship. Now, one final hurdle lay ahead of her – the licensing process, which would culminate in a very challenging licensing exam.

We celebrated the occasion by having a family dinner at a small Tex-Mex place we'd been frequenting of late. The food was fantastic and the staff was quite child-friendly. Inez, as you might expect, was in a bubbly and excited mood. The years of hard work and the responsibilities of motherhood had not taken its toll on her appearance, not even a smidgen. Now just a few days away from her thirtieth birthday, she still sported the same radiant glow and classic beauty she'd had back in her college years.

"All I have to do is pass that exam," she declared, "and I'll be able to practice. My office is ready for me. It's gonna take several more months, but it's been, what, almost eight years since I started grad school? What's a few more months?"

Eventually, the topic of conversation moved toward other matters. "I didn't tell you this yet," my wife offered, "but I talked to Mayra on the phone yesterday."

"That reminds me," I replied. "I haven't talked to her big lug of a husband in a while. And how's Little Raul doing?"

Dennis and Mayra had been the latest to join the New Parents Club. Their son, named after his very proud maternal grandfather, had just turned one. Inez and I enjoyed speculating in a lighthearted manner about the name-related challenges faced by young Raul Hutchins. Because of the difference in last names, he couldn't go by "Junior" or "The Second." On top of that, his first name was one that didn't convert easily to a diminutive form. So what did everyone call him? Little Raul, at least for now, although his Spanish-speaking relatives had "Raulito" to fall back on.

"If he grows up to be anywhere near the size of his old man, that nickname just won't cut it," I cracked.

Inez giggled and shook her head. "You're terrible," she admonished me mildly. "Oh, and guess what? I talked to Eileen yesterday, too."

"How come no one ever calls me?" I mock-pouted.

"You could pick up the phone and call them, too, you know," my better half pointed out. "Anyway, you know how much she and Dave are looking forward to moving back to Philly. It's gonna be tricky, too, because their baby is due at about the same time they're supposed to move."

Baby number two for Eileen and Dave was on the way; they already knew it would be a girl. Dave was now just two months away from completing his post-doctoral assignment at Harvard. He had already landed a permanent position with the same pharmaceutical company who'd hired him on a temporary basis immediately prior to their move to Massachusetts. Eileen had also come full circle; she'd been hired back at the school where she'd taught before their move. In effect, they would be slipping right back into the lives they'd left behind.