The Time Travel Chronicles by Robert J. Sawyer, Stefan Bolz, Ann Christy, Samuel Peralta, Rysa Walker, Lucas Bale, Anthony Vicino, Ernie Lindsey, Carol Davis, Tracy Banghart, Michael Holden, Daniel Arthur Smith, Ernie Luis, Erik Wecks Page A

and cold as the November morning, and there were frequent moments when he wished that he could freeze time and stop it all, because for one brief second, he had forgotten the heartache and loss. That was what Jess was talking about. Those fragile times when he dared to smile around her.
    He watched Jess march across the front yard and down the small, sloping hill. She wore running shoes, yellow running shorts, and a blue long-sleeve shirt, hair up in a ponytail. She turned left and picked up her pace. She was graceful. She ran with purpose. She had told their marriage counselor that she ran to forget, but it never happened.
    She would be running forever.
    Hours would pass before she came back, Dutton knew, and he would have room to breathe, to work without the suffocating blanket of remorse that hung over Jess wherever she went.
    He stood, cleared the breakfast dishes, and left Lucy’s unused place setting in her usual spot. The pillow that had cushioned her delicate knees so long ago was pink, decorated with unicorns, and had sat vacant for eleven months.
    Dutton felt his bottom lip quiver and turned away, trying to make it through the memory one more time.
    Six-year-old Lucy, lying in her hospital bed, the cords, wires, and tubes nothing but medical jewelry decorating her frail frame, accentuated by the never-ending smile on her lips.
    “If you could go back in time, honey, what would you do?”
    The question was for him, really. He already knew the answer he would give.
    Dutton would rewind time, again and again, until he found a cure.
    An expert oncologist with a young daughter dying of a brain tumor. What a twisted sense of irony the universe had.
    Lucy, with her dimpled cheeks and bald head, had answered, “Unicorns.”
    “What about them?”
    “I’d go see Noah. I’d help get them on his ark.”
    Dutton had smiled and taken her hand. Ever the realist, he’d begun with, “Honey, unicorns didn’t…”
    “Didn’t what, Daddy?”
    He remembered thinking, Let her have this one .
    “That sounds like a beautiful thing to do. The world needs more magical creatures.”
    Across the bed, back when Jess was still able to cry, the tears poured down her drained, pale cheeks in heartbroken streams.
    Dutton shook the images from his mind, wiped his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and left the teacups and a half-eaten scone in the sink.
    Out in the garage, the air was cool. He could feel the chill of the concrete floor through his slippers. He stopped for a moment, hands on his hips, and surveyed the room. Shelf upon shelf of junk that they needed to get rid of, boxes overflowing with clothes and knickknacks that they hadn’t seen in years.
    At least one shelf had to be emptied. Some of Lucy’s things would be coming out here soon. Jess had finally convinced him—said it hurt too much to walk past the abandoned bedroom with its pretty pink paint, flowery bedspread, and toys that had collected dust, hadn’t been touched since. Toys that were scattered all over the carpet in Dutton’s unjust dreams of Lucy alive and playing with them. Tea parties with the stuffed animals, house with the dolls.
    The thought of putting Lucy’s things out here felt as if they were burying what remained of the light she had brought to their lives. Like they were making room for future possibilities, for hope, and it felt wrong to have that without Lucy.
    He stepped over to the shelving and reached up, pausing with his hands on the cool cardboard. Removing the first box to make room was like jamming a shovel in unbroken earth for a grave waiting to be dug. He pulled it down, held it there, feeling the weight and wondering how much force it would take to throw it through a wall.
    Behind him, the side door to the garage banged open. He turned, the heavy case of used books in his arms, and saw Jess sprinting toward him, frantic and excited.
    “Whoa, what’s—”
    “Put that down. Come with me,” she said, grabbing his wrist. Her