The Later Journeys - 17. Dear Diary 2030

Previous chapter

“Madam, I am in need of pen and paper,” Ben asked me the next day. I went to the study and looked around, but none was to be found in drawers or cabinets. I couldn’t fathom where we might be storing it. I hadn’t thought about a quill and bottled ink since many weeks prior to Ben’s arrival.

I looked at him. “Ben, we’ve showed you a lot of newer innovations. Would you be interested in trying out a pre-filled pen?”

He gave a weak smile, to convey that he’d try anything once. So I went to my room and found a Bic, as well as a blank spiral-bound school notebook with perforated edges. “Yours,” I said, handing both to him as he sat waiting at the desk in the study. I showed him how the pen was already filled with ink, with the available amount clearly visible through the transparent barrel. I removed the pointed cap, refastened it to the other end, and scribbled on the back cover of the book to demonstrate. I then opened the book and pointed out the perforations, so he could remove pages without messy scraps tangled in the spiral wire. Now he looked more interested.

“This will save you quite a bit of time, and I know the birds will appreciate it as well,” I said, eliciting a chuckle. “If you need anything else, let me know. I’ll look around and find you some more pens.” I left him there, closing the door behind me.

Trevor and Warren trooped in from the barn, where they’d been doing some routine horse maintenance. Warren also had a small basket of eggs, recently donated by our hens. We were taking stock of our food inventory and putting things in order, anticipating a visit from Gerry. We didn’t know exactly when he’d be showing up, but assumed it would be soon.

In their typical low indoor voices, they inquired as to what Ben was up to and I told them about the pen and notebook. “Great!” said Trevor. “We need to find him a whole assortment, so he can decide what kind of pen works for him.” Soon, there was a small pile of writing instruments on the kitchen table; he and Warren had gone to the room they shared and combed the bottoms of valises. One of us would go out on Amazon later and order a variety of notebooks for his perusal. “He ought to have a Franklin planner,” Trevor offered half-jokingly as a last suggestion.

It was the first day that all three of us had finally shed the Colonial fashions and shown Ben our true selves. He had, as I’d expected, been curious about our clothing but hadn’t made any direct comments. We did tell him that our friend Gerry would be bringing some items for him to try if he was interested. In typical Ben Franklin fashion, he “graciously” expressed thanks.

Something occurred to me. “Warren, what did Ben want the other day, when he called you out of the room?”

He was blank for a moment, and then broke into a grin. “Oh, he was concerned about ‘offending’ you by ‘fouling the air,’ and wanted to know how we avoided doing so when the lavatory was indoors. So I demonstrated the fan, which helps mask noise as well, he was happy to discover, and told him we have other ways of dealing with that. So let’s put some air fresheners on the shopping list.”

“Poor guy,” laughed Trevor.

“So, when we go shopping, do we want him to come with us?” I asked.

“No!” Warren and Trevor answered in unison.

“Okay...?”

We all sat down at the table. “We talked about this,” said Warren, nodding toward Trevor. “Sooner or later, sure, but a few things have to happen first. Gerry is going to take a photo of Ben and get him a fake ID.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Can you imagine if something happened -- I don’t know what, a car wreck, use your imagination -- and a cop or somebody asked to see ID? He needs to have something.”

This was an interesting discussion indeed. It brought us back to a question we’d left on the shelf for the last few days.

Just who was this guy eating our food and sleeping in our guest room?

“You ... don’t think he might ... already have his own real ID ... somewhere?” I asked.

The guys were quiet. “Yeah, probably,” said Warren, sounding only half-convinced.

“Have you seen him out of character even once?” asked Trevor. “I’ve been watching him.”

“We all have,” said Warren.

“Tell you what,” I said in a low voice. “Get him out of the house for fifteen minutes. I’ll go in his room and poke around and see what I can find.”

We all looked at each other and could read the mixed emotions on every face. If this whole thing were a complete illusion, we’d been enjoying it and had no real reason to stop. But there was something positively eerie about the man in our midst calling himself Benjamin Franklin.

Thanks again for reading! Comments always welcome. Here's the next chapter.