It was hard to concentrate on my driving while thinking of Rachel dancing naked in the rain but somehow I made it to her house without having an accident.
The forecast for that night was a clear sky but that didn't prevent Rachel from improvising in the shower. It took all my energy to keep up with her, but I did and we were both exhausted by midnight.
It had been years since I woke up with a woman next to me and even then it had been just a hookup with no emotional connection. This was different.
"Good morning, stud."
"I was worried this old man might disappoint you."
"Disappoint me? More like spoil me for anyone else."
"That was the plan. Do you have the energy for one more?"
"What time is it? I have to be in court at 10 a.m."
"It's eight o'clock."
"Sorry lover, that's just enough time for me to take a quick shower by myself and look like a lawyer again. Meet me at the courthouse in town at noon and we can have lunch together. The address is 2500 Washington Avenue. My front door locks automatically so just close the door when you leave."
That evening I planned to surprise Rachel with a copy of Dylan's journal. I knew better than to show it to her at lunchtime. She might start reading it and get distracted enough to affect her case.
The printer I have at home is an all-in-one inkjet printer, the kind that can print, copy and scan, so making a copy of Dylan's journal was easy, just time consuming. I actually decided on making two copies and putting the original in my safety deposit box at the bank. I felt more comfortable carrying a copy. The journal was about the size of a hardcover novel and it had about two hundred pages of handwritten notes in it. Of those pages, about thirty were pages I'd never seen before. They included his account of winning the lottery but not what he did with the money. I can only assume he did that to protect my identity. It also included several dreams of my life with Rachel. What was conspicuously absent were any accounts of dreams related to his death. There was one entry though that was unusually strange for several reasons. Entries were usually long descriptions of his dreams written in chronological order. This one was short, out of order and made no sense. In between two entries for the year 2025 was the following remark.
October 21, 1983
In forty-two years DVDs will replace movies.
Besides the fact that the note wasn't written in 1983, it was inaccurate. DVDs were introduced in 1996 but by 2023 they were being replaced by streaming services as the most popular way to watch movies. The only thing that made sense was that it was a hidden message, one that only I'd be able to figure out.
I'll share my thoughts after Rachel had a chance to read the whole journal. Until then, there might be only two people on Earth who know Dylan's full story, me and the person responsible for Dylan's death.
At noon I arrived at the courthouse and waited in the main lobby for Rachel to exit from one of the courtrooms. When I saw her, she was smiling so I knew her case was going well.
She grabbed my arm and we left the building. I understood her action. She had to maintain her public image as the bitch of the local legal system. Public displays of affection would undermine that so I kept my emotions in check.
"Where do you want to eat?"
"It has to be somewhere close. The judge in my case is a stickler for punctuality and he said we would reconvene at exactly 1 p.m. The only place I can think of is a place called Corkscrews and Brews, It's a coffee shop. I know I promised you lunch but I'll find some way to make it up to you."
"I bet you will."
"You're thinking about last night, aren't you?"
'Can you blame me!"
"I have to stay focused on the case. Coffee, I need coffee. Follow me, It's a short walk."
Even though the shop sold fancy coffees and cappuccino I ordered a regular coffee. I think the barista, or whatever they're called thought I was crazy not to order something special. I could get regular coffee anywhere. I guess it's like walking into one of those ice cream shops that offer thirty-eight flavors and ordering vanilla.
"So, what have you been up to while I was in court?"
"I made a copy of the journal for you."
"Do you have it with you?"
"No, but even if I did I wouldn't give it to you now. It's difficult to put down once you start reading it. You don't want to get the judge angry, remember? I'll give it to you when you're finished with the trial."
"Bring it over tonight. Does it have any more news about me?"
"You're mentioned in a few places."
"My past or my future?"
"Your future."
"You were right not to bring it. I'd have asked the judge for a continuance just so I could read the journal."
"Much as it pains me to say this, I'm not going to stay after I drop off it off. If you're not distracted you might spot something that I didn't. It's only a copy so don't be afraid to make notes in the margins but I'll repeat what I said earlier. You can't discuss the journal with anyone else. If word got back to the Sheriff we'd have a difficult time explaining how we knew what the killer was looking for and more importantly, we can't afford to have anyone else know what it says about the future."
"I feel like I'm in one of those murder mystery novels."
"Except there's a real killer out there and Dylan's journal doesn't mention how this story ends."
That night I drove to Rachel's house. Resting on the passenger seat was a loose leaf binder filled with copies of the pages of Dylan's journal. Knowing its importance, I repeatedly glanced in my rear view mirror to convince myself I wasn't being followed. The rock may be gone but the future had to be protected. Rachel was notified when I left my house so it wasn't surprising to see her waiting by her door when I arrived.
As I handed her the binder I breathed a sigh of relief knowing it had been delivered safely.
"Call me when you've finished reading it but don't say anything else on the phone. Shakespeare wasn't the only literature we discussed in Mrs. Howard's class. We spent a long time discussing the novel, 1984."
"I understand."
I turned and, as I walked back to my car, I heard Rachel's door close behind me.
I tried to find things to do to keep busy as I waited for Rachel to finish reading the journal. I now have enough food in my pantry now to feed an army, I've mowed my front lawn even though I have a landscaping company to do that, and I must have gone to the car wash three times. I even put a special ringtone on my mobile phone so I'd know immediately when she called me. I was a wreck until two days later when the phone rang and I heard Rachel's voice.
"I've finished."
