From: lalsoong@sprynet.com (Christine Wirick )
Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative
Subject: Paradox Delusion  13/23
Date: Sat, 22 Feb 1997 18:59:28 GMT
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                       Chapter Thirteen:
                                
     As he drove toward the Baptist church where Anna Simms had asked
him to meet her, Sam clutched the locket in his hand.  He debated
whether or not he should show it to Anna.  Would she insist that he
turn the locket over to her?  He didn't understand why, but he didn't
want to give the locket to the woman.  Was Mia Bridgeman right?  Could
the locket help him channel his psychic energies?

     In the passenger seat next to him, Meg was listening to the
recording she had made of Martin Bridgeman and typing notes on her
laptop computer.  She was so absorbed in her work that she seemed
oblivious to her surroundings.  How did she find the inner strength to
deal successfully with everything?  He admired her professionalism.

     Sam reached a red traffic light and pulled up behind a gold
Mustang.  While he waited for the light to change, he opened the
locket.  Karen and Ben looked like the perfect happy couple.  These
pictures were taken before the war, Sam reminded himself.  They *were*
a happy couple then.  The loss of such innocence sickened him.

     Suddenly, an involuntary shiver rose up his back.  A wave of
nausea overcame him, and he could no longer focus on the pictures.
Sam blinked several times, then looked up at the traffic light.  The
blurry double red light refused to come into focus.

     "Sam, are you all right?" he heard Meg ask as she squeezed his
arm.

     "Yeah. . .I'll be all right," he replied, blinking several times
to clear his head.  "I just felt dizzy there for a moment."

     The light turned green, and Sam closed the locket, setting it on
the dash.  As he picked up speed, his dizziness completely abated.


     They arrived at the Baptist church just as the donation plate was making its way around. 
Although it had been a long while since Sam attended a church service,
he remembered his regular visits with his family while he was growing
up.  John Beckett had not been a wealthy man, but he made sure that
his children were close to God and always provided them with their
Sunday's best.

     As they sat in the back pew, Sam scanned the room and wondered
which of the five or six elderly women was Anna Simms.  A woman in the
third pew, Anna Simms he concluded, turned around, noticed him, and
waved.  She looked to have been a beautiful woman in her youth, but
the years had not been kind to her.

     A young man took the donation plate to the back for emptying.

     "Let us join in one final prayer before we conclude today's
service," the minister said.

     They bowed their head while the minister read from the Bible.
Afterward, people began leaving the church.  When the church was
nearly empty, Sam and Meg stood and approached Anna Simms.

    "Patrick Marland, I bet," the elderly woman said, holding out
chubby fingers to quickly squeeze his arm.

    Beckett nodded and he and Meg sat down beside her.  "Thank you for
agreeing to see us, Mrs.  Simms."

     "No one wants my son to find peace more than I do."  Tears
glistened her eyes.  Obviously, the pain of losing her son still
affected her deeply.  "So it is I who should thank you for offering to
help my Bennie."

     "This is Meg Miller, the colleague I mentioned on the phone."  He
gestured toward Meg.  "She's an investigative reporter from the
Atlanta Review and wrote the original article on your son's house.  I
hope you don't mind that I brought her along."

     "No, not at all," Anna said, smiling.  "It's good to meet you,
dear."

     Meg smiled back, clasping the elderly woman's hand.  "I want to
help your son and daughter-in-law find peace," she said.  "They don't
deserve to spend eternity stuck in limbo."

     "Bless you, my child."  Anna turned toward Sam.  "Did you receive
Ben's letters that I sent through UPS?  I do hope they weren't lost!
I would have sent them by certified mail if that weren't so darned
expensive.  I'm a poor elderly woman, you know."

     "Yes, I received them," Sam reassured her, "and they're in fine
shape.  I read all of them the day I received them.  If you need them
back right now, I have them out in my car."

     "Do you think holding on to them for a while might help you ease
Bennie's pain?"

     "It may."

     "Then you hold on to them for a while.  You look like an honest
man to me.  You'll return the letters when you've accomplished what
you've set out to do."

     "I'll take good care of your letters.  I can promise you that."

     They fell silent as Sam contemplated how to bring up the subject
of the house and the haunting.  "Ah, Mrs. Simms, after your son died,
did you experience anything unusual inside his house?"

     "Mr. Marland, I realize why you came to see me, so maybe it would
be easier for all of us if I just told you my story without you
grappling with questions."  Sam nodded his acquiescence.  "Bennie was
a sweet boy.  Mind you, he got in his share of trouble growing up, but
he never hurt anybody.  He was loyal to his country, so he didn't
complain when they told him he had to go over there and help them
fight that war.  Each time he came back home for a visit, I could tell
they'd kept another little piece of him over there until there was
nothing left that was Bennie anymore.  That vicious, monstrous war
robbed me of my boy.  It turned him into some cold- hearted demon I
didn't even recognize."

     "Did you know that he thought Karen had had an affair?"

     "Yes," Anna answered.  "They fought constantly over her alleged
affair after he came home the last time.  I liked Karen as though she
were my own daughter.  She told me that she had never cheated on
Bennie, and I believed her.  Neither of us could convince Bennie of
that, though.  He just wasn't himself anymore.  Anyway, then the
accident happened, and nothing else mattered.  My only child was
gone. . .gone forever."  Anna paused, fighting against tears.

     "I moved into their house, hoping I would feel close to them.  I
believed they were with God.  I thought they'd be looking down at me
from Heaven.  I never believed in ghosts before then.  But my Bennie,
he's still in that house.  And so is Karen.  I never actually so them.
I could sense their pain, though, feel it almost like it were my own."

     "I'm sure you were dealing with your own pain, Mrs. Simms," Meg
said.  "Why did you stay there for so long?"

     "I couldn't desert them.  I didn't want to leave ever, but I had
no choice.  The house was too expensive for one old woman to maintain.
I couldn't afford to stay."  Anna clutched Sam's hand, her eyes
pleading with him.  "Please help my boy find peace, Mr. Marland."

     "Mrs. Simms, you knew Ben better than any other living person,"
Sam said.  "What can you tell me about him that might help me help
him?"

     "He liked the Beatles."

     "I'm not sure I follow you."

     "After he died, I played their records for him.  It was the only
thing that ever calmed him.  You see, lots of those fellas over in
Vietnam got into that Rock -n- Roll music.  It was the one part of
home they could cling to while they fought that senseless war.  That's
why Bennie grew attached to the Beatles."

     "It could work," Meg agreed.  "Most people find music so soothing
during life.  Why not after life as well?"

     "Thank you, Mrs. Simms," Sam said.  "We will do everything in our
power to help your son."

     "God bless you both," the elderly woman said.

     They stood and walked out of the church, accompanying Anna to her
car, then returned to Patrick's car.  Deciding to visit a music store
before returning to the Sheffield's home, they drove to the nearest
town.  After a twenty-minute search, they found a music store in a
shopping center.

     Sam parked the car, but hesitated before stepping out.

     "Are you all right?" Meg asked as he leaned his head against the
steering wheel.

     "I will be in a minute," he replied.  "I just didn't realize how
overwhelming conducting these two interviews would be for me."  He
closed his eyes and took two quick heavy breaths.

     "You take your time.  The music store isn't going anywhere--and
neither am I."

     Sam glanced up at Meg, and she smiled sweetly at him.  She
understood what he was going through, he realized.  Asking her to join
him and Raymond, had been the best decision he'd made during this
leap.  He leaned over and they hugged fiercely.  Meg intended to help
him through this transition.

     For a brief moment, he fantasized about not leaping--as if he had
any control over it!  He wanted to remain with Meg, to build a life
with her.  She had said that he reminded her of her husband Lucas.
Could he make her happy?

     But that would not be fair to Patrick.  And hoping for it was not
fair to him or Meg either.

     He pulled away from her and nodding, he said, "I'm okay now.
Let's see if we can find that cd."  He opened his car door and stepped
out.
     

     The Sheffield's had a decent stereo system, which included a
compact disc player and surround sound.  Sam removed the copy of the
Beatles greatest hits 1962-66 from its case and inserted it into the
player.  He hit play and the music blasted throughout the room.
Quickly, he found the volume control and turned the sound down several
notches.  He then joined Meg on the sofa, placing his arm around her.

     "What's going on?" Raymond asked stepping onto the landing.  He
descended the stairs and approached them.  "You nearly scared me out
of my wits, blasting the stereo like that."

     "I'm sorry," Sam offered.  "I should have checked the volume
before starting the music."

     " Why'd you buy a Beatles' album, anyway?"

     "Anna Simms told us that Ben liked the Beatles," Sam replied.
"Apparently, the Fab Four are the only thing that can soothe the
savage beast."

     "I'll keep that in mind."

     "We have to remember that Ben's not the savage beast," Meg gently
reminded him.

     "No, of course not," Sam said.  "All I meant is that maybe the
music can lull him away from the real beasts.  If we can remind him of
what was good in his life, maybe he'll shed some of his anger."

     "What did you find out from Martin Bridgeman?" Raymond asked.

     "He was skeptical--at least so he said.  I have a feeling that he
didn't want to admit what he really believed."

     "He was obviously lying," Meg commented.  "His daughter, Mia,
told us so. "

     "His daughter?" Raymond questioned.  "I didn't know he had any
children."

     "Yeah, just one.  She lived with him alone inside this house.
I'm sure that he knew there were ghosts in the house.  Why else would
he flee with his daughter, abandoning the house?  He was afraid she
was in danger."

     "He wasn't much help at any rate," Meg said.  "The trip would
have been wasted if it weren't for his daughter."

      Sam nodded in agreement.  "She claims she saw Karen a couple of
times and that her bedroom often became cold, just like the other
morning when you rushed into my room.  I must be sleeping in the same
room!"  Sam removed the locket from his shirt pocket where he had
placed it after leaving the church.  "She also found this in the
attic."  He opened it and showed the pictures to Raymond.

     "You must be careful with that," Raymond said.

     "It's just a picture.  What harm could it do?"  Even though he
asked the question, Beckett wondered if the locket could present
danger.  He remembered the dizzy spell he'd had in the car.  What if
he lost control the next time one of the spirits showed up?

     "Photographs can trigger a severe psychic charge.  And once a
particular psychic ability is awakened, it can never sleep."

     "That may be a bit extreme," Meg countered only to add, "though
psychics do have to be very careful."

     "If it's so dangerous for me to look at these pictures," Sam
said, "then why did Patrick let me see that high school photograph of
myself?"

     "Photos of oneself do not cause a PSI charge.  It is important
that you understand your connection.  Without that knowledge, it would
have been impossible for you to succeed."

     Sam nodded and looked down at the pictures of the Simms.  Despite
Raymond's warning, he didn't want to believe that a couple of
photographs could do him any harm.  He did not feel nauseous now, not
even slightly dizzy.

     The stereo began playing "Penny Lane," which mentioned a barber
showing photographs.  It gave Sam an eerie feeling, given the context
of their discussion.

     "Karen could have been a model," the time traveler said.  "It's a
shame she had to be another victim of the war."

     "Agreed.  But there's nothing we can do to change that.  We
should concentrate on what we do have control over."

     Raymond's words cut deeper than he probably realized, because Sam
knew that if he had done things differently during the Andrew
Montgomery leap, he might have prevented the Simms' deaths.

     I wish I could leap back to that time, he thought, and set things
right this time.  He snapped the locket shut in defeat.