Chapter 8: The Noise Outside The Window Should Have Been Noticed

The Present

Stunned a first, Ben wiggled nervously in his chair for he had never seen Mr. Carlyle like this. Mary, sitting next to him gasped and then began laughing uproariously.

“Mr. Carlyle”, said Mary still giggling, “this is a very fine joke you have played on us. Ben, don’t you see, he’s teaching us a lesson for poking around where we shouldn’t”.

Ben too then smiled and saw the ridiculousness of the joke. “Noah’s a nice name”, said Ben almost mockingly. “I was in school once with a kid named Noah, very smart”.

Mr. Carlyle though stood silently and walked to a tall lime green cabinet in the corner of the salon. Opening the door he took out a worn photo album and placing it under his arm turned to face the still grinning children.

“I didn’t expect you to believe me, at first and I wasn’t sure that I was going to tell you but your poking around, WHERE YOU SHOULDN’T BE”, he said very sternly, “has told me that I must confess and soon put my travels and life at an end”.

“The statement I am Noah, is of course seemingly preposterous” said a much more serious Mr. Carlyle than Ben or Mary had ever known.

“Most of my proof is only anecdotal, for the camera was only created about one hundred and fifty years ago”, said Mr. Carlyle, “but I need you two to take a look at this”. And he placed a worn photo album on the checkerboard patterned coffee table.

“But first let me tell you my story. As unbelievable as it seems, I am the character you know as Noah. In Sumer I was Utnapishtim in their myths. In Greece I was called King Deucalion, but my real name, the name given to me by Lamech , my father, is Noah.”

Ben squirmed nervously and wondered just what can of worms he and Mary had opened by poking their noses where they shouldn’t. He thought that Mr. Carlyle was going crazy right before his eyes and he wanted to make a dash for the door, but he couldn’t leave Mary. Besides, Mr. Carlyle blocked a clear path.

“Mr. Carlyle continued, “The photo there on the mantle, is one of me and Franklin Roosevelt. We met briefly at the White House in December 1941. Does that date mean any thing to either of you?”

Mary leaned forward in her chair. “Just before Pearl Harbor, Mr. Carlyle, but that was over 70 years ago. How…”

“Please Mary, listen and let me continue”, said Carlyle opening the worn photo album. “Ben do you recognize these people?” Turning the album, Ben leaned over and peered at the photo.

“The people sure dress different that around here”, said Ben, “Are they in Europe?”

“Eastern Europe, Ben. That’s me in the foreground and behind are Jozef and Osip, two folks I became quick friends with during a brief stay with them. Oh how Osip could sing, a rich deep baritone that would have graced any opera troupe. And Josef, well farming was his passion. He had a little laboratory in his home, doing experiments with seeds and soils. He was always going try to improve the fields around his village. Sadly though neither friend would have a very long life or accomplish their dreams”.

“Look at the sign post, Ben”, continued Mr. Carlyle.

Looking carefully in the background of the photo, Ben slowly spelled out “O-s-w-i-e-c-i-m”. Sounding out the letters, Ben said “Os We Chim”.

“Actually, the sign post is Polish and your pronunciation is really quite off. You would know the town by its German name, Auschwitz” said Mr. Carlyle.

Mary gasped. “You were there”, she said with almost a cry in here voice. “My mom told me of several distant cousins imprisoned there”.

“Yes Mary, I was there. This photo was taken in August 1939, just after I had dinner with these two dear people“, said Mr. Carlyle crying. “They were slain several years after”.

An awkward silence filled the salon for several minutes. Ben finally reached and took hold of Mr. Carlyle’s hand and said, ““Mr. Carlyle, I don’t under stand”. Ben now feeling more awkward than scared watched Mr. Carlyle wipe tears from his eyes. “Mr. Carlyle, that was maybe 80 years ago”.

Rising to stand again, Mr. Carlyle started to walk back to the lime green cabinet. “He’s looking much weaker than I’ve ever seen him`”, thought Ben.

“Do you believe that I’m Noah yet?” asked Carlyle. Ben stared nervously at the floor as Mary shuffled her feet and readjusted her coat trying to find any comfortable position again. Sensing that Ben and Mary in no way believed the tales they were being told Mr. Carlyle began flipping the pages of the photo album in rapid succession.

“Here look at this picture. It’s me and some missionaries in Rwanda in the spring of 1994. And this one, I’m visiting Dallas in November 1963. This picture was taken of me in Yekaterinburg in 1918”. Sensing that his message was not getting through to Ben and Mary, Mr. Carlyle closed the photo album, breathed a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

After what seemed like forever to Ben and Mary, but was really just about a minute, Mr. Carlyle spoke again.

“Don’t believe me do you? If you can’t believe these photographs how can I ever make you believe that before you is a man who stood with Paris before the walls of Troy or visited Jerusalem as Nebuchadnezzar laid siege”.

“And you Mr. Dover” said Mr. Carlyle, turning to face Ben who was now trying to sink as low as possible in the chair, “You would be wise to ask me of the crossing to Maryland of the great sailing ship the Ark. I was amused by the name of the ship and the stories often told of me, so I signed on board”.

“Back then time travel was a game for me, so as a joke I took the name Mr. Games and signed on the Ark for the journey to what was to become Maryland”.

“Incidentally Ben, after we became friends, I did a little research on your family. On the Ark with me was Ben Warner, a distant relative of yours. I taught him all I knew about gunnery and cannons. Quick learner he was. Nimble mind. Oh you should have seen America then and perhaps I could be persuaded to…”

Mary sensing that Mr. Carlyle was starting to ramble stood slowly and walked to his side.

“Mr. Carlyle”, said Mary, “These pictures show that you’ve been in some famous places and met some famous people but still, many people lie about their age and sometimes even make up fanciful stories and we are loving these stories, really we are.”

“Dear Mary, I’m sorry for scaring you and I did get a little carried away but you are the first people I’ve told of my travels since my wife died almost 8000 years ago. I did so want someone to believe me.”

Ben was now standing next to the sitting Mr. Carlyle. “Sir” he said, “you could be 100 years old, in great shape and be here living now and still be in all those photos. I’m sorry Mr. Carlyle but I can’t believe you are Noah or the right hand man of Paris or the gunner accompanying the settlers of Maryland”.

“And perhaps I shouldn’t ask you to”, said a quiet Mr. Carlyle. “Mary, Ben, all I tell you is true and yes I am an old man, nearing death ever more every day, I knew that one day I had to tell someone my story. I had to”. Mr. Carlyle’s voice grew weaker.

To Ben it seemed that the vibrant, alive Mr. Carlyle who had caught them going through his private albums had now become, before their eyes, a very old man, weaker even than just minutes before as he was relating his fanciful tales. “Perhaps he really was 100 years old”, thought Ben “but to be Noah, that was nowhere near possible”.

Mary, feeling very sad at the now feeble Mr. Carlyle thought to herself, “For God’s sake Mary, he’s an old man. What harm can it be playing along with his tales?”

“Mr. Carlyle”, said Mary.

“Yes my dear”, replied Mr. Carlyle weakly.

“As Noah…”.

Ben turned quickly to Mary wondering if Mr. Carlyle had convinced her that his stories of grandeur were true. Mary gave Ben a look that sternly said to play along with her or don’t say a word. Ben decided on the latter and bit the inside of his cheeks so as to not be tempted to utter a word.

Mary continued, “Mr. Carlyle. Umm… Mr. Noah, how are you still alive after so long?”

Mr. Carlyle smiled, rose and walked slowly to the window of the salon. Pulling back the brilliantly colored curtains, he peered outside at the setting sun and said in a loud clear voice, “I travel time”.

The noise outside the window should have been noticed, but those in the salon just stared, at each other blocking outside world.

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Next week:

Chapter 9: An investigation was begun but no answers were found