Three days later, James was moved into a nursing home. That evening his three children, Sean, Sharon, and their younger brother, Ian came to visit and found him sitting in a chair.
“Well, Dad, you’re looking much better. There for a while, we weren’t sure,” Sean said. “The doctor says it looks like you’re going to be fine. You’ll continue physical therapy, but will have to use a wheelchair for now.”
Sharon walked over and kissed him. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Dad. I wasn’t ready to plan a funeral.”
“Humpf,” James said. “Don’t go planning any funeral for me yet. You need to plan a big birthday party for me next July.” His speech was still a bit slurred but understandable.
“What do you mean, Dad,” Ian asked.
“You’re going to have a big birthday party for me on the Fourth of July. Your half-brother, James, and his family are coming from California.”
“You sound rather definite about that,” Sean said. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because James’ grandson, Rory, told me so,” James answered.
“And just when did Rory tell you this?” Ian asked.
“You won’t believe me if I tell you,” James said.
“Try me,” Ian replied.
“It was November, 1892.”
“Okay, Dad, you’re right. I don’t believe you,” Ian said.
“How could that happen?” Sharon asked.
“Because I visited 1892 from 1941 just before the war started. While I was there, Rory McGregor visited from the year 2034.” James shook his head. “Don’t try to figure it out. I’m not crazy. You’ll see next July when Rory comes to my party.”
* * *
Los Angeles, CA – May 26, 2014
Rory shook his head. “The old man must be bonkers. How could I have met him in 1892? Neither one of us was born yet.”