Foley lay a yellowed, brittle newspaper clipping on the coffee table in front of Jeremy.

Jeremy picked it up. It was an announcement in a newspaper called The Marlboro Daily Record, dated July 7, 1956. The headline read, “Three Locals Complete Basic Training.” Three head shots showed men in military dress hats. Captions identified the three men as Scott Pierce, Raoul Weatherington, and Edward W. Marlett.

Below the photos, three paragraphs identified each man’s parents, age, and first duty assignment.

Jeremy looked up at Foley. “What’s this?”

“See the guy on the right?”

“Marlett.”

“Edward W. Marlett. When that page was printed, it read ‘Page R. Foley.’”

Jesus! That meant… That meant that Foley had been through what Jeremy had been through, or something like it. And that answered a question Jeremy had not thought to ask.

“That’s why you followed me. That’s why you risked telling that whopper of a story to the police station.”

Foley nodded. “You catch on quickly.” Jeremy looked at Foley. “Jesus.”

“When I saw that poster of the missing boy change from you to Paul Quinn, I had two thoughts, both horrible. My first thought was how awful it was that someone else–you–was about to go through the horrible experience that I went through. My second thought was that I was no longer alone.”

“What’s so horrible about that?”

“As sad as I felt for you, I was even more relieved for myself. If this could happen to someone else, then at least I wasn’t crazy. What was horrible was how comforting that was.”

Jeremy remembered the people he had met on the streets, and how good it felt to know that someone else understood at least a little bit of what he was going through. And how good it felt to offer someone else a bit of help to get through the day. People seemed to know somehow that you had nothing else to offer, and appreciated your tiny bit of compassion all the more.

“Maybe,” Jeremy said, “comfort is all we really have to give.”

Foley’s mouth dropped open and he looked Jeremy in the eye. After a moment he said, “You’re older than you have any right to be.”

Jeremy said, “I have a question for you. Why did you think that the poster changed? Why didn’t you think that it was you that changed, that maybe you were seeing things?”

“Well, I had seen it before. Years ago I’d seen my own picture change.”

“When I saw that the newspaper story changed I thought I was losing my mind. I remembered it so clearly. I remembered every word of how it was a year ago. But when I saw it in the library it was different. I didn’t think, ‘Golly gee, look at that, willya. That danged newspaper done went and changed all by its own self.’ I freaked out. It was like nothing was real. Like my head was attacking itself or something. I screamed so much they had to call the police.

“So why didn’t you freak out like I did?”

“I did freak out, Jeremy For a long time I thought I’d lost my mind. And I didn’t have anybody to talk to about it. Who could I tell? How could I tell them? But that was more than fifty years ago. Life went on, and nothing like that happened again until a year ago. By then I’d had a long time to get used to what happened. And to get used to the idea that I can’t explain it, that in the end there may be no explanation.”

“It happened, so there must be an explanation.”

“You may be right. If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

“Well, you’ve had fifty years to figure it out,” Jeremy said. “Give me a day or two.”

Foley smiled. He picked up his empty root beer mug and reached for Jeremy’s. “You want some more?”

“You got any food? I’m pretty hungry.”

“How about a peanut butter sandwich?”

“Two peanut butter sandwiches?”

“You got it.”

Foley took the mugs into the kitchen.

Jeremy followed. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I thought I did.”

“I don’t think so. If I saw something else change right now, I don’t think I’d be happy about it. It probably wouldn’t freak me out as much as yesterday, but you seem to be saying that you just took it in stride.”

Jeremy sighed in frustration. “I’m not asking the question right.”

“Let me see if I can help,” Foley said. “When I saw my own picture change, that made me doubt my sanity. So when I saw a second picture change, why wouldn’t that confirm that I’d lost my mind? Is that what you’re trying to ask?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Foley opened a breadbox and took out an unopened loaf of wheat bread. He pointed to a cupboard. “Peanut butter is in there.”

Jeremy got the peanut butter from the cupboard.

Foley got two plates from another cupboard and a butter knife from a drawer. He set them on the counter. “You make the sandwiches. I’ll pour us some more root beer.”

“Okay.”

Foley took two fresh frosted mugs from the refrigerator.

“Why didn’t I go crazy? I don’t know. Like I said, I’d had a lot of time to think about it. But I think the main reason is that this time it wasn’t about me. I didn’t know Jeremy Crowther–or Paul Quinn–from a hole in the ground. I’d survived my own picture changing–and that wasn’t the worst of it, by the way–so in comparison your picture was small potatoes. I hope that doesn’t sound uncaring, but I didn’t know you at the time. If I was crazy, so be it. I’d been through worse and lived to tell the tale.”

“What do you mean, ‘that wasn’t the worst of it?’”

“What I mean is that things went haywire for me before I ever saw my picture change. And it was only after the picture that I came home from the Army to find that, like your family, my own family didn’t know me.”

“Jesus. I didn’t think of that.”

“I guess we have this in common, you and I.”

“Except that you didn’t have anybody else that you could talk to about it.”

“No. No, I didn’t. Does it help?”

“A little, I guess. It helps me to know that I’m not crazy. Unless we’re both crazy in the same way.”

“Of course, we might both be crazy in the same way.”

“Highly illogical, Captain.”

Foley laughed. “Star Trek?”

“Yep.”

“Movies or TV show?”

“Both.”

The doorbell rang.

Jeremy jumped. He looked at Foley, who was looking back at Jeremy, alarmed.

Foley walked to the door and pulled back a thin curtain that covered a column of panes that ran from the ceiling to the floor beside the door.

He turned to Jeremy with a look of concern on his face. “Officer Yonce,” he said and reached toward the door.

Jeremy felt a burst of adrenaline. Officer Yonce? What did she want?

“Officer Yonce,” Foley said.

“Mister Foley,” Yonce said. She glanced around the living room, then looked toward the kitchen. When she spotted Jeremy her head jerked back in surprise.

Jeremy’s heart pounded in his ears. His mouth felt dry. Whatever she was doing here, it couldn’t be good. Foley’s story, and Jeremy’s had been full of holes, and surely Yonce had come to poke at it.

Trying to appear casual, Jeremy raised his sandwich and took a bite.

Foley looked back at Jeremy, then at Yonce. “How can we help you, Officer?”

“There’s some paperwork we forgot to take care of last night. Can I come in?”

The bite of peanut butter sandwich had turned pasty and thick in Jeremy’s dry mouth. He reached for the mug of root beer. His hand was shaking. Picking up the mug would only amplify the shaking.

He put his hand in his pocket and stepped slightly to his left to put the counter between himself and Officer Yonce. He tried to swallow the bolus of peanut butter and bread.

Foley reached out his hand. “If you’ll give me the forms I’ll just fill them out right now.”

“They’re–” Speckles of pink appeared on Yonce’s neck. “They’re back at the station. If I could just come in for just a minute…”

If she could just get Foley to invite her in she had free reign to look around, Jeremy knew. If she wanted to see Jeremy’s bedroom, or take a look at the medicine that, presumably, he had not been taking…

“We’re in the middle of lunch right now, Officer Yonce. And we’re still sorting out the unfortunate incident at the library. Could this wait until later this afternoon?”

“Mister Foley, this will just take a minute.”

“In that case, what questions do you have? I’d be happy to answer them, and then I can get back to lunch and my conversation with my grandson.”

Yonce glared at Foley. “I’ll expect you by four p.m.”

“I’ll be there,” Foley said.

“Both of you,” Yonce said, looking at Jeremy.

“For paperwork?”

“If you prefer, I could get a warrant.”

Jeremy gagged.

Yonce turned toward him.

“Peanut butter,” Jeremy said, pointing at the sandwich. “Sticky.”

Foley said, “We’ll be there. Four o’clock.”

“Four o’clock,” Yonce said, looking from Foley to Jeremy and back. She held up an index finger. “Four o’clock.”

Yonce stepped back off the doorstep and turned away.

Foley watched out the doorway for a moment, then closed the door.

He turned to Jeremy, who was trying to sip root beer from a shaking mug.

A trickle of root beer ran down Jeremy’s chin. He set the mug on the counter.

Foley said, “This is a problem.”

“This is a problem,” Jeremy agreed.