11/22/63: A Novel

I was still trying to deal with the idea that Sadie was here, in the Fort Worth house where Lee and Marina had lived. How could it be? In God’s name, how? And that wasn’t the only thing. Kennedy was also in Fort Worth, at this very minute giving a breakfast speech to the local Chamber of Commerce at the Texas Hotel.

“My suitcase is in my car,” she said. “Will we take the Beetle to wherever we’re going, or your Chevy? The Beetle might be better. It’s easier to park. We may have to pay a lot for a space, even so, if we don’t go right now. The scalpers are already out, waving their flags. I saw them.”

“Sadie. .” I shook my head in an effort to clear it and grabbed my shoes. I had thoughts in my head, plenty of them, but they were whirling around like paper in a cyclone, and I couldn’t catch a single one.

“I’m here,” she said.

Yes. That was the problem. “You can’t come with me. It’s too dangerous. I thought I explained that, but maybe I wasn’t clear enough. When you try to change the past, it bites. It’ll tear your throat out if you give it the chance.”

“You were clear. But you can’t do this alone. Face reality, Jake. You’ve put on a few pounds, but you’re still a scarecrow. You limp when you walk, and it’s a bad limp. You have to stop and rest your knee every two or three hundred steps. What would you do if you had to run?”

I said nothing. I was listening, though. I wound and set my watch as I did it.

“And that’s not the worst of it. You — yikes! What are you doing?” I had grabbed her thigh.

“Making sure you’re real. I still can’t quite believe it.” Air Force One was going to touch down at Love Field in a little over three hours. And someone was going to give Jackie Kennedy roses. At her other Texas stops, she’d been given yellow ones, but the Dallas bouquet was going to be red.

“I’m real and I’m here. Listen to me, Jake. The worst thing isn’t how badly you’re still banged up. The worst thing is the way you have of falling suddenly asleep. Haven’t you thought of that?”

I’d thought of it a lot.

“If the past is as malevolent as you say it is, what do you think is going to happen if you do succeed in getting close to the man you’re hunting before he can pull the trigger?”

The past wasn’t exactly malevolent, that was the wrong word, but I saw what she was saying and had no argument against it.

“You really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I absolutely do. And you’re forgetting something very important.” She took my hands and looked into my eyes. “I’m not just your best girl, Jake. . if that’s what I still am to you—”

“That’s exactly why it’s so goddam scary having you turn up like this.”

“You say a man’s going to shoot the president, and I have reason to believe you, based on the other things that you’ve predicted that have come true. Even Deke’s half-persuaded. ‘He knew Kennedy was coming before Kennedy knew it,’ he said. ‘Right down to the day and the hour. And he knew the Missus was coming along for the ride.’ But you say it as if you were the only person who cared. You’re not. Deke cares. He would have been here if he wasn’t still running a fever of a hundred and one. And I care. I didn’t vote for him, but I happen to be an American, and that makes him not just the president but my president. Does that sound corny to you?”

“No.”

“Good.” Her eyes were snapping. “I have no intention of letting some crazy person shoot him, and I have no intention of falling asleep.”

“Sadie—”

“Let me finish. We don’t have much time, so you need to dig out your ears. Are they dug?”

“Yessum.”

“Good. You’re not getting rid of me. Let me repeat: not. I’m going. If you won’t let me into your Chevy, I’ll follow you in my Beetle.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said, and didn’t know if I was cursing or praying.

“If we ever get married, I’ll do what you say, as long as you’re good to me. I was raised to believe that’s a wife’s job.” (Oh ye child of the sixties, I thought.) “I’m ready to leave everything I know behind and follow you into the future. Because I love you and because I believe that future you talk about is really there. I’ll probably never give you another ultimatum, but I’m giving you one now. You do this with me or you don’t do it at all.”

I thought about this, and carefully. I asked myself if she meant it. The answer was as clear as the scar on her face.

Sadie, meanwhile, was looking at the Crayola Girls. “Who do you suppose drew these? They’re actually quite good.”

“Rosette did them,” I said. “Rosette Templeton. She went back to Mozelle with her mamma after her daddy had an accident.”

“And then you moved in?”

“No, across the street. A little family named Oswald moved in here.”

“Is that his name, Jake? Oswald?”

“Yes. Lee Oswald.”

“Am I coming with you?”

“Do I have a choice?”