Chapter 11

"That's the park, Rich. See? Look at all those people riding around on their lawnmowers."

Richie looked to where Jon was pointing and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. There were several people on the bike path enjoying the day on their Segways. He realized that while these changes and new inventions were gradual for him, for Jon to see them after a twenty year leap forward must be confounding. Still, he could not resist having a bit of fun at Jon's expense.

"They're doing community service for petty crimes."

"Really? But what are they doing?"

"The city is saving tax payers' money by having the offenders mow the grass at the parks."

"Huh. Who would have thought that the government would actually think about saving money for us."

Now that Richie thought about it, it wasn't such a bad idea.

*****

"Ferguson. Her name is Mrs. Ferguson." Jon was trying to get the woman at the reception desk to call her down to the lobby.

"Yes, I heard you. But we have three Fergusons here. We're popular with the Irish community, you know. What's her first name?" They were interrupting her reading and she was getting a bit irritated.

Jon realized that he didn't know her first name. Never even bothered to find out. She had always been 'old bat Ferguson' and he couldn't very well ask for her by that name.

"I don't know her first name, but she used to be a high school teacher in New Jersey."

"Oh, the one that likes to fold things. Room 314," she said dryly and promptly went back to her book.

They found the elevator and made their way up to the third floor. Her room was the last one down the hall and when they entered it, they found Janet packing and tidying up things.

"You're the young man that mother was talking to last evening, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm Jon. Is Mrs. Ferguson here?"

"No, dear. I'm afraid mother passed away in her sleep last night."

There was a long stunned silence.

Richie was the first to speak, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Seeing Jon's shocked look, Janet came up to him and placed her hand gently on his arm. "She's at peace now. She was 98, you know. She'd lived a good, long life, doing what she loved which was teaching."

"Oh, and she left something for you." Janet went to her purse and pulled out an envelope. It was addressed to 'John Bongiovi' in frail cursive letters. "Mother always wrote a letter to her students after she had met them again. I guess she knew that you would return."

*****

They drove home in silence, both pensive in their own thoughts.

In the kitchen, they sat down with their coffees and Jon opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

He read it and re-read it and turned the letter over to check the back of it.

"What are you looking for?"

"It says that she left me a formula, but there's nothing else here."

"Check the envelope, again."

When he did, something dropped to the table with a clink and he picked it up and looked at it.

It was a St. Christopher.

For your safe journey back, she had written.

*****

The next morning, Richie woke to find Jon in the living room with the letter in his hand. He obviously hadn't even changed clothes or much less, slept.

"You okay, bro?"

"Yeah, I've been just thinking."

"All night? About what?"

"About how you never know people. I mean, we used to call her names, all of us. We thought she was just an old hag trying to cram her lessons down our throats, you know?"

Richie took the letter Jon offered to him and sat down to read it. When he finished, he looked up at Jon. "Don't beat yourself up over it. You were just a stupid kid. Hell, we all did that."

"I know, but I wish I knew then, what I know now. She really cared about us, that we learned something, I mean. And we were just selfish pricks."

Realizing that Jon needed to work this out himself, Richie got up and headed to the kitchen. "Want some breakfast?"

Over bacon and eggs, they discussed the letter and the missing formula.

"What do you think was on the formula?"

"I don't know, Rich, but she was talking about equations and wormholes and stuff. I think I've just missed my chance to go back home."

"Jon, you know she was not lucid half the time. Maybe she just forgot to put it in or she was just talking nonsense."

"No, I think she knew what she was talking about. I wish I had it."

Richie snorted at this. "And if you did have it, what would you have done with it? You wouldn't even understand it."

Jon considered this for a moment. "I was thinking of showing it to someone on the 'web' thing."

"Have you been playing on my computer?"

"Yeah, just a little," Jon admitted. "I was reading about that time travel thing that was on there."

"Just be careful not to go poking around too much before you read things you shouldn't. You already know more than is safe."

"Okay......... Rich?"

"Yeah?"

"Where does the page go when you scroll down it?"

*****

Tuesday was hectic being the first day of school and Jon and Dot were at their wit's end trying to get the kids ready. Romeo seemed to be having the 'first day of preschool' jitters and was making life difficult for Jon.

"School is going to be lots of fun, buddy. You liked it when you went with Mommy to see it, right?"

"No! I stay home!"

"You're going to make lots of friends at school. Don't you want to play with them?"

"No! I wanna call daddy!"

There it was, again. Jon felt helpless not understanding what Romeo meant. At the same time, deep inside, a strange sensation told him that it all made sense.

"Okay, son, I'll tell you what. You go to school and when you come home, you can call 'daddy', okay?"

Romeo seemed satisfied by this as he sniffled, "okay."

*****

Upon returning home after dropping the kids off, Dot picked up the mail and shuffled through the bills when she came across a letter for Jon.

"Hon, there's one here for you. Looks like a fan letter."

"How did they get our address?"

"I don't know, but there's no return address. You might as well open it."

Jon looked at the envelope and saw a California postmark. This handwriting looks familiar.

When he opened it and pulled out the contents, he found a letter and a newspaper clipping.

It was an obituary notice.

He looked at the letter:

Dear Mr. Bongiovi,

It was such a pleasure to be able to sit and chat with you. You are a fine young man and you've proven to be a person I can proudly call one of my students. Maybe not now, but in your later years, of course. I had hopes and dreams for you, all of you, and it gives me great pleasure when that hope is fulfilled.

Oh, I do know what you young people thought of me and even knew the monikers that you have given me. But none of that takes away from the joy of seeing you learn. Even though you may not realize it, Mr. Bongiovi, you have learned. That is all I wanted for my 'children'. If my annoying presence has made some impact in your lives, then I consider my work done.

I have included the formula you needed and a St. Christopher, for your safe journey back.

Live well and cherish those around you.

Warmest regards,

Marilou Ferguson



"Jon? What's wrong?"

"I never knew her first name was Marilou."



At the bottom of the page, there was a note written in the same familiar handwriting of the envelope:

Sorry, there was no formula. I'm keeping the St. Christopher. I need it more than you.