Sunlight streamed through the windows of the large ornately furnished apartment. However, the middle-aged man sitting at the desk didn’t seem to notice as he read over the sheet of paper in his hand. It was to be Marshall Williams’ final message to all those who knew him. Especially Claudia.

He knew they wouldn’t understand. How could they? He glanced over at the picture of a pretty young blonde woman sitting on a grassy hill. In her hands she held a pad of paper. Thinking back to those happier days, he remembered how Claudia would take that pad everywhere, jotting down notes whenever an idea came to her.

That’s what she was doing the first time he ever saw her. It’d been a warm autumn day their senior year and she was sitting against a tree with a pad of paper resting on her knees. Scribbling away, she hadn’t even noticed him until his shadow fell across her pad.

“Too beautiful a day to be doing homework,” he’d said, trying to strike up a conversation.

“Oh it’s not homework,” she’d replied smiling shyly and holding up the pad of paper. “This is the beginning of what will someday be a wonderful book.”

There was something about the excitement and confidence in her voice that made him believe her. It wasn’t long before the two of them were spending all their free time together. He’d sit there for hours just listening to her talk and watching her jot down notes. It was the happiest time of his life and it wasn’t long before he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

They married after graduation and moved to Colorado where he’d gotten an engineering job. Claudia taught kindergarten and continued working on her book. One afternoon, a few months into their marriage, Marshall returned home to find Claudia excitedly running to him with a stack of papers.

“It’s finally finished,” she cried excitedly.

Marshall couldn’t be more proud. She’d accomplished something that most people would never dream of doing. That evening they held a modest celebration at the fanciest restaurant they could afford.

And her confidence had been warranted. They’d been married just over two years when her book, Casandra’s Crucible, was published and it became an instant sensation. Suddenly Claudia’s time was no longer her own and she’d be away for weeks at a time on book tours or attending conferences. She’d asked him to go with her, but he had his own career to consider. He glanced over at the picture. Maybe if he’d gone, things would have turned out differently.

One thing was certain, the overwhelming success of her first book changed Claudia. The joy she’d always experienced when writing was gone, replaced by a compulsion to recapture the success of that first book. Her later books were best sellers, but they never achieved the acclaim of her first. This ate at her and at times she took out her frustrations on Marshall. It didn’t help that he responded in kind.

Their marriage lasted another ten years, but it was far from happy. Through it all he still loved her and longed for his old Claudia, the one he loved listening to because of the joy in her heart. However, that Claudia was gone. He finally gave in to her demands for a divorce. It’s not what he wanted, but he could no longer deny her a chance for happiness.

She’d been most generous in the divorce settlement. She could afford to be, he laughed to himself. Over the last four years, he’d traveled all over the world in a futile effort to forget her. However, her smiling face and pad of paper from the happier times were always there in his dreams. He’d tried dating other women, but none could erase his memories of Claudia. At last, the loneliness had become too much to bear.

Even now, he didn’t harbor any ill-will towards her. She’d only been following her dreams. After all, that’s what had made him fall in love with her in the first place. However, as much as he hated to admit it, he now wished her first book hadn’t been so successful. Maybe they’d still be together and his life would be worth living.

He read over the letter one last time and placed it by the picture on the desk. Getting up he started walking towards the bedroom where a large bottle of pills waited. It’ll soon be over, he thought. He stopped as the doorbell rang.

He considered ignoring it, but something - second thoughts perhaps - made him go over and check the door’s view screen. Seeing a stylishly dressed young man, he opened the door. “Can I help you?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Williams,” answered the young man with a smile. “My name is Dan Jenkins and I’m here because I know what you’re about to do.”

Marshall Williams did his best to hide his shock, but his voice still trembled as he spoke. “I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“Oh, the bottle of pills in the bedroom,” Dan replied calmly. “Not very original, but effective.”

Marshall’s shoulders slumped. “I assume you’re with the police.”

“Nothing of the sort, Mr. Williams,” answered the young man in a pleasant tone. “I’m merely here to offer you an alternative, one with a happier ending.”

“Too late for that I’m afraid,” declared Marshall in a defeated tone.

“For the right price, it’s never too late.”

Marshall didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“Well Mr. Williams, let’s sit down and I’ll explain.”

Jack Leland sat at his computer staring down at his keyboard as he typed. The flickering light from the monitor illuminated the intense face of a dark-haired man who although young, had the look of someone who’d seen too many disappointments.

His nightly ritual never changed: a quick dinner, usually fast food, followed by writing. He’d continue until either too exhausted to think straight or when the first sign of dawn could be seen through the window.

He’d lost track of how many short stories and novels he’d submitted to publishers. Unfortunately, the results was always the same; rejection. Either he’d never hear back or if lucky, he’d get a nicely worded form letter. Even so, he continued, certain that success was just one submission away.

Sitting back and reading over what he’d typed made him smile. “Think we’ve got a winner here Dickens,” he said to the large orange cat sleeping on top of the nearby printer. The cat looked up and yawned before closing its eyes and going back to sleep.

Writing had been Jack’s passion for as long as he could remember. Among his parents’ favorite stories from his childhood was how as a toddler he’d pull books off the shelves just to stare at the words in them. To them, it almost looked as if he understood what he was looking at.

His first time in the school library was a revelation. He’d never seen so many books and vowed to himself that he’d read every one of them. Although he never quite achieved that lofty goal, he came close.

As he got older, Jack began to write every chance he could. He joined the school newspaper and eagerly anticipated each new essay assignment in class. Essay assignments became automatic A’s and he even won numerous school and town essay competitions. Each new success only made him more certain that someday he’d be a published author.

Jack’s parents were extremely proud of his accomplishments and displayed all his certificates and trophies on a bookcase in their living room. They supported him fully, even taking out loans to allow him to attend one of the best, and most expensive, liberal arts colleges in the country. It was no surprise to them that he majored in English Literature and Creative Writing.

His writing success continued in college as he excelled in all his writing courses and had numerous articles published in the school’s literary magazine. Jack sent his parents a copy of each one which they dutifully placed on the bookcase with all his other writing achievements. A good job seemed inevitable as Jack started sending out resumes his senior year.

Unfortunately, the only responses he received were for low paying entry positions or unpaid internships. In the end, he decided to teach middle school English in his home town. The pay was better than anything else he’d been offered, he’d get to encourage kids to write, and there’d be more free time to concentrate on getting published.

The last five years had been difficult for his parents as they struggled to pay back his student loans. Multiple times he’d offered to help, but his parents wouldn’t hear of it, not even when his mother had to get a job. Getting published wasn’t just for him anymore and that’s what kept him going.

For so many other writers he’d seen how one successful book opened the publishing flood gates. That’s all he needed. And maybe the book on the flickering computer screen before him would be the one.

Jack rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair as the first orange streaks of dawn shot through the window. “Good night Dickens,” he said to the cat as he trudged over to the bed determined to get at least couple hours of sleep before school started.

By the end of the school day, Jack wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. Even his usual lunchtime nap hadn’t helped. Walking out to his car, he saw a dark-haired young man leaning up against it, apparently waiting for him. The man was wearing a business suit and holding a briefcase. However, the suit seemed oddly out of place as the material had an almost metallic sheen and the jacket lapels were nearly perfect right triangles.

“Mr. Leland?” asked the young man.

“Yes.”

The young man extended his hand and smiled, “I’m Dan Jenkins. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Jack hesitantly shook the offered hand. “You know me?”

“Only through your writing in the college magazine. You’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” answered Jack as he blushed slightly, “but I’m sure that’s not the only reason you’re here.”

“Quite correct Mr. Leland. I have need of a writer and when I remembered your work, I knew you’d be perfect.”

Jack was suspicious, normal people didn’t just show up and offer jobs. It had to be some kind of scam. “I’m very flattered Mr. Jenkins, but …”

“I appreciate your caution,” interrupted the young man, “but at least give me an opportunity to discuss what the work would entail.”

Not seeing any harm in just listening, Jack nodded. “Okay.”

“If you’ll be my guest for dinner this evening, I’ll explain everything.”

They made arrangements to meet later at a nearby restaurant. Driving home Jack considered not showing up, but his curiosity had been aroused and it’d been quite a while since he’d gone to a restaurant. Before leaving for dinner, Jack spent some time on the internet searching for any information on Dan Jenkins. Unfortunately, there were thousands of people with the same name so it didn’t do any good.

Dan Jenkins met him at the door and the maître d’ showed them to a quiet booth in the rear of the restaurant. After ordering, the young man took a loosely bound stack of papers from his briefcase that Jack immediately recognized as a manuscript.

“This is what I need your help with,” he explained with a smile, handing it to Jack. “I’d like you to do a rewrite of this book. I know talent’s not cheap and you’ll be paid accordingly.”

Jack was puzzled. There were numerous companies who did rewrites, why come to him? The only text on the title page was, Casandra’s Crucible, with no author’s name listed. As he read through it, his confusion only increased as the writing was expressive and well-crafted with no obvious grammatical errors. He could certainly use the extra money, but didn’t want to get it by doing something that wasn’t necessary.

After about ten minutes, he handed the manuscript back. “Honestly I don’t see the need for a rewrite, this looks fine just as it is.”

“Once I’ve explained, I think you’ll understand why it needs to be done. I can’t reveal who I represent, but I’ll tell you everything else I can.”

“So you’re an attorney?”

Dan laughed. “No, merely someone who helps solve problems.”

Jack wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that. He didn’t have a chance to ask about it before his dinner companion began speaking.

He explained how the manuscript’s author had grown up in a wealthy family, spending much of her adult life travelling the world. Too restless to remain in one place more than a few months, she never married, but traveled on, always looking for the next experience. Late in life, she began to tire of the constant travel and finally settled down.

Never one to be content with doing nothing, she tried gardening, volunteering, collecting art, and a multitude of other activities, but none of them excited her. It wasn’t until she was in her early sixties that she finally found her true passion; writing.

Dan picked up the manuscript. “This is the sum total of her life’s work. She finished it only a few months before her death.”

The mention of her death surprised Jack. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She’d been sick for quite a while. She used the last of her strength to finish this. That’s how strongly she felt about it.”

“But why does it have to be rewritten?” Asked Jack, still confused.

“Because of her niece and nephew. They’d gotten a hefty inheritance when their parents died, but went through it in less than two years. When it was gone, they started hounding my client demanding money. At first she gave it to them, glad to be helping family, but in time their demands became too much and she cut them off. As her health worsened, she knew they were just biding their time until she died, since as her only living relatives, they’d get everything.”

Even though he had no idea who this woman was, Jack felt bad for her. Being on your deathbed with your only family just waiting for you to die had to be heartbreaking.

“However,” continued Dan, “she wasn’t about to let that happen. She quietly had her lawyers liquidate her holdings and donate the proceeds to charity. However, there was one thing the lawyers couldn’t safeguard. Her manuscript. That’s why she hired me.”

“To do what?”

“To try and get her book published in such a way that her niece and nephew wouldn’t be able to profit from it. Unfortunately, my job was made more difficult when the niece found a copy of the first few chapters that I’d missed. If it’s published as is, they’ll recognize it and try to claim it for themselves.”

Most people would have asked why Dan’s client cared about it being published after her death. However, as a writer Jack understood. Being published wasn’t only about getting your name on a book jacket or even the money. It was sharing a piece of yourself with others. He now understood why the rewrite was necessary.

“You need it rewritten so they won’t recognize it.”

“Exactly. Keep the story and everything else as is, but change it so the protagonist is male instead of female and come up with a new title.”

Jack considered what would be involved in making those sorts of changes. “I’d have to read through the manuscript to be sure, but it should take about a month to do what you want. Then you can start the submission process.”

Dan looked down with what Jack thought was a sheepish look. “Well, there is one other stipulation and my client was adamant about this. To insure there’s no way her relatives can ever lay claim to her book, she wants whoever does the rewrites to submit it to publishers as their own.”

Jack didn’t know what to think. How could he submit someone else’s work as his own? On the other hand, seeing the effort the author had put into protecting her book, would it be right not to help her?

“I’ll need some time to think about it.”

“Fair enough.” Dan reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “When you’ve made your decision call me at this number.” Handing Jack the manuscript, he added, “Take this with you, just in case. I’ll arrange for it to be picked up if you decline my offer.”

By the time Jack got back to his apartment he was too exhausted to think clearly. Glad the next day was a Saturday, he collapsed on his bed and didn’t wake up until nine o’clock when Dickens started pawing at his head to register his displeasure at breakfast being late. It was nearly noon by the time he picked up the manuscript and started reading. Unable to put it down, he kept reading into the night.

His initial impression had been correct, the book was well written with a compelling plot and characters. However, it almost seemed too polished for an initial draft. Although he had no reason to doubt Dan Jenkin’s story, he went online and did a search for “Casandra’s Crucible”, but nothing showed up. He next tried doing searches on different sections of the text, but again there were no matches.

There was no question in Jack’s mind that this book had the potential to be successful. Isn’t that what he’d been hoping for? If this book did well then he might finally be able to get some of his own work published and help his parents. Even so, someone else had written it. He went to bed that night still struggling with what to do.

After a fitful night’s sleep, Jack had his answer. He took out Dan Jenkin’s card and dialed the number. “Mr. Jenkins, this is Jack Leland. I’ve made my decision …”

The waste basket in the dorm room was overflowing with crumpled balls of paper. As another was tossed over, it bounced off and joined a growing pile on the floor. Maybe a change of scenery would help, she thought. Grabbing her pad, she headed out into the warm sunshine and plopped down under a comfortable tree.

She balanced the pad on her knees and began writing. The change of scenery had indeed helped. She continued writing until a shadow appeared. Looking up she noticed a dark-haired young man standing there.

“Too beautiful a day to be doing homework,” he observed with a laugh.

“Oh it’s not homework,” she answered cheerfully holding up the pad of paper. “This is the beginning of what will someday be a wonderful book.”

“Really?” asked the young man. “I’d like to hear about it.”

She’d seen enough fake sincerity to recognize that his interest was genuine. “Only if you tell me your name.”

“I’m Marshall Williams,” he answered sitting down beside her.

“Good to meet you Marshall Williams. I’m Claudia Hamilton.”

The two spent the entire afternoon under that tree talking and laughing together. By the time she returned to her dorm room that evening, Claudia was smitten. That fall semester they were nearly inseparable. Just being together was enough for them as many evenings were spent with Claudia writing and Marshall doing class assignments. Going home with her over the holidays to meet her family formalized what they both already knew, and he asked her to marry him.

An already hectic final semester of school was made even more so with a summer wedding added to the mix. Seeing each other became more difficult as the semester progressed and they eagerly looked forward to spending Spring Break together. However, those plans were dashed when Marshall had to travel to several companies for job interviews that week. Claudia decided to remain at the college and console herself with an uninterrupted week of writing.

On the Tuesday of that week, Claudia was in her dorm room hunched over her desk writing away when there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” she called, but there was no answer. Opening the door, she saw a book-sized package lying on the floor. Bending over to pick it up, she noticed a man in a business suit turning the corner at the end of the hall.

Must be a gift from Marshall, she guessed sitting on her bed and excitedly tearing open the wrapping. The item in the package was indeed a book. “Troy’s Tribulation by Jack Leland,” she read from the book’s cover. She looked for a note, but found nothing. Having never heard of the book, she glanced at the first chapter and immediately dropped the book to the floor. This was her story.

How could someone else have written her book? As the shock slowly wore off she began to wonder if maybe she’d made a mistake. Reaching down, she gingerly picked up the book and opened it to a random page. Taking a minute to steel herself, she began reading. There could be no mistake now, this was her book. The words were different, but the story and main character were hers.

Anger engulfed her. She’d find this Jack Leland and make him admit what he did. Turning the book over, she looked for a picture so she’d have a face to go along with her hate. Then she saw the copyright date; the book was over thirty years old.

For a moment, she began to doubt herself. Had she read this book as a kid and just forgotten about it? No, the story and heroine meant too much to her to merely be a forgotten memory. There was no reasonable explanation, but in her heart Claudia knew this was her book and what she had to do.

An internet search provided all the information she needed. Jack Leland was a moderately successful author who’d never had a best-seller, but had published a steady stream of books. Troy’s Tribulation had been his first book. It struck Claudia as being different from all his later works. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was all she had. It’d be a twelve hour drive to get to his home, but she had to see him face to face to find out the truth.

She told Marshall nothing about this when they spoke that evening. How could she possibly explain it to him without sounding crazy? He said nothing about sending her the book which made her wonder who it could have been from. After a few hours of sleep, she threw her unfinished manuscript and Troy’s Tribulation into a satchel and headed out. It was mid-afternoon by the time she reached Jack Leland’s apartment complex.

Sitting in the car, she began to have second thoughts. How could she just barge in and accuse this man of stealing her book? After all, what proof did she have? Even so, it was her book and she was going to fight for it. Grabbing her satchel, she marched into the building.

Ringing the doorbell, she hugged the satchel tightly against her chest. The door opened to reveal a grey-haired man who Claudia immediately recognized as Jack Leland.

“Mr. Leland.”

“Yes?”

“I’m Claudia Hamilton and wanted to ask you about one of your books.”

Jack Leland smiled, “please come in Miss Hamilton. Always happy to talk about writing. Which book did you want to discuss?”

“Troy’s Tribulation.” Claudia wasn’t sure, but she thought her host gave a start.

“Haven’t been asked about that book in years,” he answered while showing her to a chair and taking a seat himself. “Very first book I ever had published.”

The apartment was nicely furnished, but wasn’t fancy by any means. Writing certainly hadn’t made Jack Leland rich. Claudia took out a pen and pad of paper. “So where’d you get the idea for Troy’s Tribulation?”

Jack squirmed inwardly as he thought back to the day he’d met Dan Jenkins. “It just sort of came to me one day.” He’d never liked talking about this book and had been secretly pleased that it’d been just successful enough to get publishers to take a chance on his own work.

They spoke for another half hour and Jack was amazed how much this young woman knew about his book. It’d been published before she was born and been out of print for years. He finally had to ask. “How do you know so much about Troy’s Tribulation?”

She stared at him in silence for a moment before answering in a barely restrained tone. “Because I wrote it.”

Thinking his guest was joking, Jack laughed, but stopped when she glared at him. “I’m sorry for laughing, but you’re far too young to have written it.”

Claudia was now embarrassed as well as angry. How could she have just blurted that out? She was sure she’d hate Jack Leland, but he’d been kind and had gladly answered all her questions. Her earlier doubts began to return.

Shoving her pad back into the satchel, she stood up. “I think I’ve taken up enough of your time Mr. Leland. Thank you for speaking with me.”

Before he could say a word, she rushed out of the apartment.

As the door closed behind her, Jack noticed some papers she’d dropped. Hoping to catch her at the elevator he picked them up, but froze when he saw “Cassandra’s Crucible” written at the top of one of the pages.

Jack quickly read though the other pages and immediately knew the truth. As impossible as it might seem, Claudia Hamilton, not some elderly woman, was the mystery author of Cassandra’s Crucible. He started for the door.

“I wouldn’t recommend that Mr. Leland,” said a familiar male voice from behind him.

Turning quickly, Jack took a step back as he saw Dan Jenkins standing there, looking exactly the same as the day they’d first met.

“But how?” stuttered Jack. “It’s been thirty years.”

“For you, but for me it’s only been a few days.”

“What are you?”

Dan Jenkins smiled. “As I told you before, I’m someone who solves problems. It just so happens I do it by travelling through time. Now if you’ll have a seat, I’ll try to explain what’s going on.”

“But Miss Hamilton …” began Jack pointing at the door.

“Will be better off if you listen to what I have to say,” interrupted the young man.

Reluctantly, Jack sat down and his visitor began pacing as he spoke.

“The young woman who just left here did indeed write the book I gave you. When it was published, Cassandra’s Crucible was an instant sensation, but a curse for the future Claudia Williams. She could never recapture the acclaim of that first novel and that ate at her. In time, it destroyed her marriage. Her ex-husband tried to carry on, but finally decided it wasn’t worth living without her. That’s when I showed up and offered him an alternative.”

As Dan spoke, Jack’s anger grew, not for what he was saying, but for the way he was saying it. He sounded like one of those sleazy salesmen who only cared about making the sale.

“Out of the goodness of your heart I’m sure,” spat Jack.

The reaction didn’t seem to faze Dan. “Not at all,” he answered smoothly. “I provide a service and I’m well paid for it.”

“So you sabotaged Claudia’s book by bringing it to the past and lying to me about the dying wish of an old woman to get me to put my name on it.”

“I did what was necessary to get your cooperation. Besides, you made out fairly well in the deal.”

“What do you mean?” snapped Jack.

The young man stopped pacing and stared at the older man. “What I mean is that without my intervention, you’d still be teaching English and spending your nights writing in a futile attempt to get something published.”

Jack didn’t want to believe him, but knew he was right. Getting that book published allowed him to help his parents and convinced publishers to take a chance on him. He never got rich writing, but at least he had a steady income doing what he loved.

“So part of the reason you did this was to help me?”

“Help you?” answered his visitor with a laugh. “No, you provided the greatest probability for the changes I wanted to make to the timeline to succeed. How that impacted you was just random chance.”

The slight gratitude he’d started to feel evaporated and all he wanted was for Dan Jenkins to leave. However, there was still the matter of Claudia to consider.

He stood up angrily. “Okay then,” he demanded, “tell me what I need to know about Miss Hamilton and then get out.”

Dan studied him for a moment. “Getting a bit touchy in your old age. You were much more easy-going the last time we met.” He walked over and sat down. “Have a seat and I’ll finish what I have to say.”

Wanting nothing more than to punch Dan Jenkin’s smug face, Jack restrained himself and sat down.

“Claudia Williams’ future is currently at a tipping point and could go one of two ways. She could convince herself she read your book as a child or realize that she wrote your book. One path leads to a long happy marriage and the other to a life of bitterness and paranoia.”

Although still angry, Jack wanted to be sure he understood for Claudia’s sake. “I thought you determined what would happen.”

“That’s a common misconception about time travel you often see in science fiction stories,” answered Dan with a chuckle. “Do A and B will happen. There’s far too many factors involved for that. It’s really more a matter of maximizing the probability of a desired outcome. The science guys call it stochastic modelling. All I know is that it told me to have you publish the book.”

Now Jack was thoroughly confused. “Shouldn’t this modelling thing have picked the first outcome for Claudia?”

Dan looked down. “The problem with probabilities is that sometimes the long odds win. I suppose that explains why people gamble. In this case, the long odds were her coming to see you. That’s why I’m here. If you’d gone after her and told her the truth, her life might very well take the second path.”

Jack felt a sense of relief knowing he hadn’t inadvertently ruined someone’s life. “So everything’s going to be okay with Claudia now, right?”

Dan pulled a small tablet from his pocket and pressed a few buttons. “Of course I can’t be one hundred percent certain, but the probabilities are certainly trending that way.” Standing up he gave Jack a slight nod. “In that case Mr. Leland, I’ll be on my way,” and with a tap on the tablet, he vanished.

Claudia Williams sat on the couch slowly reading and re-reading the note, not bothering to shed any tears over it. After all, it wasn’t a surprise since she and Marshall had grown progressively apart over their two year marriage. Still it hurt knowing that he’d left her for another woman.

Thinking back, she should have seen it even before their marriage. He’d become so focused on his career that she hardly saw him over the last two months of school. The long hours he spend at work marred their married life and some days she wouldn’t even see him.

Marshall tried to claim she’d changed when she quit writing, but it was he who’d changed. After all, how could she continue writing after thinking Jack Leland’s book was hers? He’d even been kind enough to send a wedding gift.

It’d grown dark by the time she got up and crumbled the note in her hand. Turning on the lights, she sat down at the computer and began preparing for tomorrow’s class, happy to have something to do. She didn’t know if she’d enjoy teaching Kindergarten at first, but over time had grown to love it. It certainly didn’t have the glamour of being a writer, but it was something she could see herself doing for many happy years to come.