Mark rose from his chair and wandered over to the window. He looked out on the familiar scene of rooftops and treetops wondering if the window would even let him go back into the past to an event that was not his own. He looked at his watch and saw that it was only 4:00. It seemed like it should be later than that. Marie should be home from school by now and he removed his cell phone from his pocket. He spied the phone icon and selected it. When his phone directory appeared, he pressed the number 4 to speed dial his daughter. She picked up on the first ring.
“Hi, Dad.”
“I have a question about the window,” Mark went right to it. “Did you ever try to go into the past that wasn’t yours?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like did you want to go and meet Abraham Lincoln or see the first space launch, something like that?”
“No, I didn’t. It never crossed my mind. I was more interested in saving my butt from situations I created. What are you thinking of doing, Dad?”
“Nothing,” Mark said and ended the call.
Now he had no idea if he could or could not go into the past to a time that not of his own. He went back to his computer and double-checked the date of the C. Simon article. It was June 13, 1964. He slowly walked back to the window focusing on the date and the place and paused in front of it. He asked himself, did he really have to find out where the window came from or just accept it for what it is, a magic window? The window shimmered. He reached out to touch the window and suddenly turned and walked to his desk. He sat down and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Does it matter to know about the Knights? But he really wanted to know about the window. How else can he learn about the window if he didn’t go back to that time and ask the players? Wait! There is only one player he needed to focus on and that was the owner of the house, Cecil Burgos. He looked at his Post-its and found the one that listed his family. He noticed Cecil’s wife; Brenda’s maiden name was Soft-shoe. What kind of name is that?
Mark returned to the search bar and typed; what kind of name is Soft-shoe? And hit the enter key. The search returned several choices including links to tennis shoes, a company name, synonyms, definitions, the name of a dance, but the one that caught his eye was Indian names. He clicked on it. The screen returned a page that had a heading of Fox Indian names and there it was, Soft-shoe. Behind it was little description of its origin. Soft-shoe was the name associated with the tribal doctor. A doctor, in the Fox tradition, was not a medical doctor but one who was believed to have mystical powers to protect the tribe from its enemies.
“Mystical powers? What does that mean?” Mark said to the air.
He went back to the search engine and typed in Brenda Soft-shoe and hit enter. Nothing. He sat back and wondered how he was going to figure this out. He typed in Fox Indians in Spanish Lake. A page appeared of the history of Spanish Lake that explained that the tribe settlement in Missouri was the farthest south as they were typically located north. The Fox tribe began a relationship with the Spanish contingent that were assigned to the Spanish Lake area, originally called Spanish Pond. A display is featuring Fox culture is located at the Missouri History Museum in St. Louis.
Mark began a search of the Missouri History Museum. The website gave basic information and he was unable to search for the Fox Indian display. He went back to his search engine and typed in Fox Indians and Time traveling. He smiled when one link appeared titled Fox Indian – Time travel. He clicked the link and sighed. He was really going down a rabbit hole and he began to wonder if it was worth it . Maybe he should take his daughter’s advice to just enjoy using the window. The screen appeared with a one paragraph article.
Fox Indian lore claimed that they could manage time for the betterment of the tribe. The gift of managing time was the responsibility of the tribe’s doctors called Soft-shoe. The Soft-shoe assignment was passed down to the oldest daughter of the chief of the tribe. How the tribe used the gift of time travel is a secret that will probably never be known.
He sat back again and ran his fingers through is hair in frustration. He needed a break and he stood up. He walked to the window and looked out at the all too familiar view. He would like to go back to a place where he didn’t have a care in the world. The window shimmered. He touched it.
He was in the swimming pool that his parents had set up in the driveway of their home on Congress Avenue. It was one of those three-foot high pools with plastic runners clipped to thin aluminum sides. He was on his back staring up at a light blue sky. He was ten years old without a care in the world. He remembered this day. It was one of the best days of his life. It was game day! His Khoury League baseball team had a game at 6:00 that evening and it was about 3:30 in the afternoon. He wasn’t supposed to be in the pool, coach’s orders. Coach Allison wanted the team to rest on game days. But it was so hot that day, Mark decided to sit in the pool anyway. He floated and stared at the sky. High cirrus clouds floated above him and he smiled. He could almost fall asleep. He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on top of him and the chill of the water beneath him. He opened his eyes and he was standing at the window.
Mark shook his head as he returned to his desk. He decided that he didn’t care how the window worked. He was going to enjoy it as his daughter suggested. He closed the search engine on his computer and selected the word document icon that he had started to write his life’s story. He began to write about the best day in his young baseball life; the day he hit three homeruns in one game.
To be continued…
My First Stories 