Chapter Four

Helen took a deep breath, glad to hear it, but the worries didn’t go away quite so easily. As a grandmother, it had been her primary responsibility to worry about her granddaughters for the better part of the last thirty years. “Did you say... watch them?”

Stella’s eyes bulged briefly, and Helen watched her throat tighten and then stretch as if she were swallowing something large. “What’s that, now?”

“You said you like to watch sometimes.” Helen glanced around the room. “How do you do that, exactly? Could we watch the meet-cute?”

“Oh, that.” Stella shook her head quickly, shrugging at the same time. “I don’t actually.... We can’t.... The Big Guy frowns upon anyone other than higher administrative staff, such as myself, doing that. It’s safer that way, you see.”

“Safer?” Helen asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, from time to time... things can go wrong... if one isn’t particularly careful accessing the portal. It doesn’t happen often. But we have to be cautious. You understand? It would be awful if an outside influence changed the course of things, you know.”

“Yes, of course,” Helen nodded. “I can imagine that would be terrible. But how would that happen exactly?”

“Well, I’ve never caused a problem myself,” Stella was quick to say. “But I’ve heard of it happening. Unintentionally, of course. At any rate, I’m afraid we simply can’t watch.”

Helen sighed. “You’re right. I’d hate for anything bad to happen because of my curiosity.” She’d have given anything to watch Memory meet the love of her life, but if there was a risk something could go wrong, it wasn’t worth it.

Stella checked her watch. “Well, if there’s nothing else, it was lovely to see you again.” She reached her hand across the desk, the cuff of her suit jacket catching the pen holder, sending it toppling again. “Dagnabbit!”

“Let me help you,” Helen offered again. For the second time, she gathered up the pens and put them back into the container. Dropping the last one, she offered her hand to Stella. “Thank you for your time.”

“Yes, yes, my pleasure.” She seemed to be in a rush now, so Helen hurried to the door. Stella followed behind her, pausing a few feet short of the doorway. For the first time, Helen noticed a white screen tilted back against the white wooden interior of one of the bookshelves. She couldn’t give it more than a glance because Stella seemed to need to get on with her schedule. “Have a good day!” Stella called, stopping next to the shelf.

“You, too.” Helen smiled and went out the door, thinking Stella’s behavior odd. She closed the door behind her but hesitated, wondering if she should go back in. Stella suddenly seemed preoccupied with the screen, and Helen had a sneaking suspicion she knew why.

If Stella were about to watch Memory’s meet-cute on that screen—it that was really a portal--then Helen wanted to see it, too. Slowly, she opened the door. “Stella....”

Startled, Stella waved her hands frantically, as if she’d been caught reaching into the cookie jar. “Helen! Goodness! You frightened me!”

“So sorry!” Helen meant it. She hadn’t intended to make her jump. “It’s only... what is that you’re doing?”

“This? Oh, nothing. It’s just....” Stella glanced back at the screen for a moment, then her eyes returned to Helen for a second before her forehead puckered and her gaze darted back to the device. “What’s happening? What? No! That’s not... Oh, no! Drat!” She snapped her fingers and stomped her foot, color draining from her face.

Panic welled up inside of Helen as she saw Stella’s expression. “What is it?” she asked. “It’s not Memory, is it?”

“Oh, dear.... I think I’m going to be sick.” Stella grasped her middle, her face almost as white as her suit. “I must’ve stirred up a wind when I waved my hands....”

“A wind? What?” Helen was confused. “How is that possible?”

Stella didn’t answer though. She was peering into the screen, her lips tight and turned down at the corner. She was shaking her head again. “No, no, no....” Balling her hands into fists, she turned and ran across the room to her desk and flipped open her laptop.

Helen’s curiosity got the better of her, and she hurried into the room, taking up the spot in front of the portal Stella had just vacated. At first, Helen couldn’t see anything at all. It was only white mist, as if she were staring at a cloud. But then, the white parted, and she saw Memory walking, alone, down the sidewalk to the shop they’d run together. There was no man near her, and as she unlocked the door to the shop, a cup of coffee in her hand and a familiar book tucked beneath her arm, Helen couldn’t help but notice how sad her granddaughter looked. “What did you do?” she called, listening to Stella typing furiously.

“Me?” Stella argued. “This is your fault, Mrs. Graham! I told you you weren’t allowed to look.”

“You’re the one who waved your arm!” Helen countered. It was difficult to see Memory looking so sullen, so she turned her attention to Stella, even though she’d longed to see her granddaughter’s face all these months they’d been apart.

“I waved my arm because you startled me!” Stella’s fingers stopped typing, and her eyes flew across the screen. Helen watched her read as she slowly approached the desk. “Oh, no. No... no... no!” Stella sunk into her chair, dropping her head into her hands. “Everything is ruined.”

“Ruined? What do you mean? Surely, it can be fixed. Can’t they have a different meet-cute? I mean, really, how hard must it be? The Big Guy can handle it. He can handle anything.”

Stella folded her arms across her chest. “The Big Guy doesn’t like cleaning up other people’s messes—especially when it takes so much time and attention to detail to make sure everything works in perfect harmony. Memory’s life affects the lives of others, you know? Now that she hasn’t meet Dakota, they won’t get married. She won’t have children.... We just lost the cure for cancer!”

Helen’s eyes bulged. “What’s that now?” It was bad enough to think her granddaughter would never meet the man she was meant to marry. To think they’d also lost such invaluable medical research because she’d opened a door was disastrous. “We have to fix this!”

“How? All of our Fixers are busy! It’s Christmas—the busy season for everyone! I just looked at the data base. There’s no one I can send to right the situation, Helen! We’re up a creek without a boat.”

“I think you mean paddle.”

“It’s far worse than being without a paddle!”

Helen took a deep breath, not willing to give up. She knew Memory better than anyone, and if this was the man she was meant to be with, Helen could make it happen. “Send me,” she said, excitement at the prospect building in her voice. “I can fix it. Give me a chance.”

“You?” Stella said, almost laughing. “You can’t be serious. You’re not a Fixer.”

“No, I’m not. But I can do it. I know my granddaughter. I can find a way to get her and Dakota to meet, fall in love, have those great-grandbabies of mine, and do everything that would’ve happened if you hadn’t interfered.”

“You interfered,” Stella reminded her, still unwilling to take any of the blame.

“Fine. You said the Big Guy doesn’t like to fix other people’s messes. Let me fix my own.”

Stella was shaking her head. “They’ll never approve this.” She reached for the phone, knocking the pen container over and toppling the paperweight. “Fiddle.” She dialed a number as Helen righted the objects.