The Five Times I Met Myself by James L. Rubart

Author:James L. Rubart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2015-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

MAY 24, 2015

Had it worked? Had his last dream convinced his younger self to stay with Karissa? He turned over and opened one eye a crack, trying to brace himself against the possibility it wouldn’t be Karissa next to him. But there was no one beside him. No shower, no sounds at all from the bathroom, and none floating into the bedroom from the kitchen. But there was that distant, out-of-place sound. What was it? He knew it but couldn’t quite place it.

Brock opened his eyes fully, rolled out of bed, and froze. Not his bedroom. Instead, he found himself standing in a much smaller bedroom staring at brown paneled walls and windows covered with beige ruffled curtains that looked like they were straight out of the nineties.

He definitely wasn’t in Sheila’s and his opulent spread. Was it possible? Hope rose inside. Maybe his younger self had changed his mind and either moved off the business path or started his own company. Most importantly, maybe he was still married to Karissa.

A pang of longing for her shot through him, and he willed her to be in the next room, sitting in her favorite chair, reading a mystery novel.

“Hello?” Brock wandered toward the bedroom door and pulled it open. “Kariss—”

Her name died on his lips as he stared at the family room in front of him. There was no Karissa, and the room wasn’t his—and yet it was. His books lined the beat-up bookshelves along the far wall. His desk was crammed into a tiny room. His collection of cookbooks were stacked on the small kitchen counter.

It wasn’t until the subtle shift of the floor under his feet that Brock realized where he had to be. He stumbled to the back door, yanked it open, and stepped onto the narrow deck of a houseboat. He stared at the water lapping at the dock. That was the sound he’d heard in the bedroom. What was he doing here? He had an overwhelming desire to click his heels three times. But he knew it wouldn’t take him back.

“Morning, Brock.”

Brock spun toward the voice. It belonged to a robust woman who looked to be in her midsixties. She stood across the water on the deck of the boat that neighbored his. She had perfectly round wire-rimmed glasses too small for her plump face, and thick wavy hair that must have been blonde once upon a time. She held an oversized mug that gave off a healthy cloud of steam. She raised the cup to him in a toast.

Her eyes were on the nova side of bright, and her smile was the type that spoke of someone who had been through the valley and emerged from the other side with joy unstoppable. Brock liked her immediately.

“Good morning.” He took a step toward her.

“Love the new blend.” She raised her mug to her lips. “You need to let me pay you for it.”

As Brock studied the woman, he decided to forgo pretending he knew her. He was too tired to try figuring out where he’d landed this time.

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