Susan went to look for her husband once supper was over and the usual cleanup was done. She found him by himself, sitting at the little desk in the library, contemplating the old photos he and Mr. Simms brought home with them earlier that day.

Susan looked at Greg in surprise and Greg arched a questioning brow at her.

"Where is Bobby?" she wondered.

"He has come home from the library with rather a lot to think about today. I suspect he has gone to his rooms to pray," Greg shared.

Susan arched a brow at her husband. "How about you? Were you affected in some way by what you learned today?"

"Yes and no. If I combine the developments from today with those which came over the weekend, then definitely," Greg said.

"Do you need to talk about it?" Susan offered.

"Perhaps. I have been contemplating these old photographs we've collected. The photo of the old Stone house is quite telling," Greg said.

"Greg, this house is actually quite ordinary in its appearance. How sure are you that this really is the house Levi Stone and his family lived in?" Susan asked.

Greg hesitated in answering her, wondering how he could explain. He decided he couldn't. He simply moved aside some of the other photos spread out on the little table, revealing an old envelope beneath them. He handed it to Susan.

Susan looked it carefully. It was one of the ones addressed to Max by Rosalie. This particular one was the most recent of the three they had, dated December 18, 1883. On the envelope was the address where it had been sent. It was addressed to Max Tabor, care of Rabbi Levi Stone. The address for the rabbi's home was written under his name. Susan read it then looked questioningly at Greg. Next, he handed her their copy of the photo of the old house.

"Look at the house number," Greg directed.

"It matches what's on the envelope. Is this how you identified this particular house as the one you remember?" Susan asked

"To be honest, I forgot to bring this envelope with me," Greg told her. "I remember this house because of the pepper tree out in front. My horse liked to chew on the leaves, even though it wasn't good for her. I remember joking with the rabbi at the time that the reason she brought me back to his house following the accident in the tunnel, wasn't out of some sense of loyalty to me or an attempt to get me help, but because of the tree. She loved that tree and could get to it quite readily when we were there because in those days, their yard was unfenced. The picket fence in the photograph must have been added later. Also, most houses in the area featured pine or palm trees. This one was unique because of this particular tree."

Susan looked more closely at the old photo. "Are those eucalyptus trees behind the house?"

"Yes. I remember the smell was quite distinctive," Greg said.

Susan nodded. "How close was it to Santa Monica Canyon? There are a lot of eucalyptus trees there."

"That is difficult to say. We were unable to locate the position of the old house from modern maps, and old ones don't have the detail necessary to pin point its location precisely. From this photo alone, I would say it was located at the north end of town ... possibly beyond the city limits proper, due to the hills we can see in the background," Greg said.

"Why would Rabbi Stone have bought property there?" Susan asked in surprise.

"From the information we discovered, we learned that developers were actively selling property in that part of Los Angeles county at low prices in 1875, trying to entice settlers to the area to populate the new town. It would have been quite a bargain at the prices we saw listed, even in those days. After searching further, we found land records suggesting Levi Stone was one of the first purchasers, and bought his land at a very good price. He chose this location due to its proximity to the new rail line, which promised to link residents to the City of Los Angeles and other communities nearby. The developer's pitch was that new settlers could live near the ocean, in a healthy environment, and still enjoy the benefits of the more built up communities nearby," Greg described.

"And you remembered all this?" Susan asked in surprise.

"No Susan. I read about it at the library this afternoon, while we were looking through the old photos in the archives. I was trying to gain some context for what we were seeing. Bobby on the other hand, remembered it. He dreams about the long pier we saw in some of the photos today, the railroad along the beach, which I never knew existed, and the campgrounds nearby in places that now are exclusive addresses for expensive homes."

Susan nodded as she handed the old photo back to him.

"So, what does this mean, Greg?"

"It means, Bobby now believes in past lives for himself. He's seen enough today to realize there is something to his recurring dreams ... something that others don't necessarily share. His dreams are not like yours and mine. They in fact overlap very little, but that is precisely the point. They are his dreams, his memories about his past life. Moreover, as you and I have found, some of those dreams are very personal. Recognizing them for what they are, represents a significant leap forward in his faith; it is also an enormous adjustment for him," Greg shared.

"I suppose they would be," Susan said. "Does he understand what is next?"

"He understands he wouldn't be here again if there wasn't something the Lord wanted of him. He hasn't gone so far as to extend that to Ruth just yet, but I expect he will, in time," Greg said."

Susan nodded. "And that is the reason you suspect he needs to pray."

"Isn't it? When one realizes they have been singled out, given special treatment and consideration at the pleasure of the Almighty, isn't that a startling and powerful experience?" Greg asked.

"I suppose it is ... although humbling is the adjective that comes to my mind," Susan reflected.

"Also true," Greg agreed.

"So what does this mean for you?" Susan wondered.

"I was at Rabbi Stone's house as Max. As Rosemary said, Rosalie and Max were married there. It was a turning point in our lives and a very humbling experience for me. I owed my life in that time to the faithfulness of my horse, the mercy of the Lord, and the charity of those good people, the Stones," Greg said.

"Now, after all these years, after exploring the depths of our cave this past weekend, and discovering what we have about the gasses it contains and the way it moves through the cracks in the rock, I understand what it is that made me ill. I think the space behind the divot we found must be where I broke through the rock directly into the crack - the same one we now know vents the cave from its lowest levels - rather than into the passageway proper of the cave. That action exposed me quite suddenly and in quite high concentrations to the toxic effect of the gasses which collected there after the slide. But the hole I created, also gave the gasses in the cave a way to disperse, preventing the dangerous buildup of gasses from occurring again. It protected us from their dangers when we re-discovered the cave and reopened it in our time," Greg said.

"That does seem likely, given what we've learned," Susan agreed. "But you already knew Max became ill. You already knew about the time you spent with Rabbi Stone and the circumstances that led Max and Rosalie to marry when and where they did. Is there anything about the details you've learned recently which influence your faith one way or another?"

Greg arched his brow. "No, there isn't. What it has done is to allow me to share my faith, to share the insights I have gained these past few years in understanding how it is the Lord works, with another. His hand is in play, even when we can't see it that way."

"Very true," Susan said. "So now that you know all that, what's next?"

"It will be up to Bobby to determine what more he needs to know about any of this in order to understand the lesson the Lord has in enabling him to remember. As for myself, I believe I have learned all I can from this particular sequence of events," Greg said.

"Which leads me to the second thing you did today ... or was it the first?" Susan asked.

"You mean the box," Greg said.

"Yes. What did the curator at the museum have to say about it when you showed it to him?" Susan asked.

Greg cocked his head. "I have discovered that experts in antiquities are hesitant to share what they know, when they also know of a person who is more knowledgeable than they are about some particular aspect of their field. Mr. Messner is no exception."

"Why? What did he say?"

"After some persuasion, I managed to get him to tell me the approximate region of the world our box is from, and also the century when, in his estimation, it was most likely to have been made ... with the understanding his estimate may be off by a half century or more," Greg shared.

"And he didn't want to tell you that?" Susan asked in surprise.

"I got the distinct impression he wished to be more precise about both pieces of information. He was able to relatively confidently tell us the century, but not the decade when it was likely to have been manufactured; and also he could identify the region of the world, but not the specific location, although he was able to narrow the area for us considerably. However he did tell us about his colleague at a museum in New York who specializes in wooden European antiquities from this approximate period. Mr. Messner feels he can more than likely tell us much, much more," Greg said.

"Well don't keep me in suspense. What did he actually say?" Susan asked.

"Based on the woods which were used, he believes it is from Western Europe ... probably from Western France or England, although when Bobby asked, he did say it was unlikely to be from as far west as Ireland," Greg said.

"Even though the earliest known owner of the box we know of was from there," Susan said.

"Yes. Apparently the box has some history which stretches back before Connor," Greg observed.

"I think we already knew that," Susan said.

"We suspected," Greg said. "This is the first evidence we have which confirms that suspicion is probably correct."

"Okay. What else did he say?"

"He told us that from the style of craftsmanship used in its manufacture, he could approximate the period it was from as roughly the mid-1600s," Greg said.

Susan arched her brow. She went over to a shelf on the bookcase that made up the door to the cave and extracted a small bound book from its top shelf.

"What is that?" Greg asked.

"My notes. I've been trying to collect here whatever random facts we have about our various lives, including the years when we postulate we lived," Susan said.

"And?" Greg asked as she thumbed through it.

"Dates in the mid-1600s or later would correspond quite nicely with the lives of Harald and Katherine," Susan read from the volume in her hands.

"Which is what we thought," Greg reminded her. "From our collective memories, we have hypothesized that the box had its origins about that time."

"We did. We've managed to trace it through our memories from us to Max to Penelope Peabody, to her mother, to her father ..."

"Whom we believe to be Connor ... Reuben in one of his past lives," Greg said.

"And from him, back to Marie ... our Marie ... Harald and Katherine's Marie," Susan said. "Perhaps the box traveled from England to Ireland through her."

"That is possible. We also know Marie was Jessie, in one of her previous lives; and she believes the box was yours ... Katherine's before the fire," Greg said. "She and Zack together suggested it was in the cottage when it burned."

Susan nodded. "She's said Egg brought it to her ... after she was grown."

"I've heard her say that too," Greg said.

"Okay, so what if it is? The age of the box suggests what we believe could be true. What is the significance of this box beyond its age and where it is from?" Susan wondered.

"It's significance may be in how it came to us, or why we had it to begin with," Greg said.

"You mean why Katherine had it," Susan said.

"Yes. Mr. Weir, the antique dealer, speculated that the box was built the way it was ... with what he described as a false bottom ... as a way of hiding something," Greg said.

"Secret papers is what comes to mind," Susan told him.

"Yes, but how do we know that?" Greg asked. "Were we involved in a secret of some kind?"

Susan slowly shook her head. "I don't know. I don't have any dreams to suggest that ... but on the other hand, I don't have any that would rule it out either. Also, I doubt even your museum curator's colleague is going to be able to tell us that."

"He may," Greg told her. "Both Mr. Messner and Mr. Weir seem to feel the craftsmanship that went into this container's construction was distinct enough and of such high quality, it must have been intended to serve a specific purpose."

Susan frowned slightly. "Maybe. I all I know for sure is, that our box is in some way associated with the dark place we all seem to remember. There is some connection between it and what happened there."

Greg arched a brow as he considered what Susan was saying. "Susan, do you recall how Katherine came by the box? I know we haven't been able to learn why we had it, but learning where and when it came to us ... to Katherine might help."

"It might ... but I don't remember exactly," Susan said. "Only that we had it when we left that place."

"Was it given to her?" Greg wondered.

Susan's frown deepened slightly as she considered the question, but after a moment or two, she sighed with a shrug. "I'm not exactly sure, Greg. Some part of me thinks it had to have been, but I have no idea why or by whom or for what reason it might have been given to me. I just don't know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It is part of the mystery we've been given to figure out. We will know what we need to know, when the Lord decides to reveal it to us, Susan," Greg said.

"I know. Too bad finding out more about the dark place we can remember isn't as easy as looking through the photo archives of a museum," Susan told him.

"It might be, if we knew what it was we were looking for," Greg said.

Susan nodded. "Perhaps, but as you say, the curator in New York may be able to tell us more. Are you proposing we take it to him, while we are in New York?"

"I doubt we will have the time. Mr. Messner made a photographic record of the box, took measurements and made some detailed sketches of some of its particulars. I believe it is these he intends to send to his contact there," Greg said.

"Is he going to call us back?" Susan wondered.

"He will, when he hears something," Greg said.

"Okay, so that's all we can do for now with the box. If that is true, what is next for you? Do you keep looking into records here in Los Angeles?"

"I doubt it. Research wise, I would like to know more about my own family, but none of those records would be here. Beyond that, I will do what I can to help Bobby figure out why he is still here. What it is the Lord is trying to teach him with what he can remember," Greg said.

"There must be something," Susan said. "At ninety-one, he has outlived most of his family and his peers. There must be something He has in mind for Bobby to do, some reason He has for keeping him here so long in this life instead of allowing him to start again, as he has for so many from his family."

"Exactly, but for now, all we can do is to wait and to pray."

c

After three extremely active days, Greg wasn't at all surprised when Mr. Simms decided to sleep late the next day. Susan was working and Rosemary had class on that particular Wednesday, and so most uncommonly, Greg was the one who took Melody into the swimming pool to do her exercises. However, she was so excited by the novelty of having Greg alone in the pool with her, they spent far more time playing than they did actually doing the activities he knew she needed to do to strengthen her legs. He couldn't help wondering if Susan would be disappointed, but in truth, he didn't mind. The number of occasions he'd had to spend time one on one with his youngest daughter since her birth, could be counted on one hand.

"Good morning, Greg," Mr. Simms said.

Greg looked up as Mr. Simms came out on the pool deck to greet them about the time he and Melody were getting out of the pool.

"Good morning, Bobby. Did you sleep well?" Greg asked politely.

"I did sleep. Whether or not it qualifies as 'well' is a matter of opinion," Mr. Simms said.

"Oh?" Greg replied. It was tempting respond with a probing question intended to find out if their discoveries at the Los Angeles library the day before had perhaps prompted the other man to dream, but he held back.

Mr. Simms simply arched a brow at his host, but otherwise didn't reply.

"What have you in mind to do today, aside from tending to Melody?" Mr. Simms asked.

"This is precisely what I intend to do," Greg told him.

"Then are you finished with your research?" Mr. Simms wondered.

"Not at all. We will eventually learn what Mr. Messner's colleague in New York can tell us about our antique box. I plan to continue looking into whatever I am able to learn about my own family's past. And I will continue to look for more insight as to how I can serve the Lord," Greg said.

"I see. While I'm not nearly as interested in your old box as you all are, and I already know as much as I think I need to about my family's past, I am of course also interested in learning what I can about how I can serve the Lord," Mr. Simms said.

"Always a good idea," Greg agreed as he wrapped Melody in a towel and set her on one of the patio chairs while he wrapped another around his waist. "Care to accompany us to the nursery? I need to get her dressed."

"Of course," Mr. Simms agreed.

Mr. Simms helped Greg where he could with tending the baby, even taking it on himself to watch her play in the nursery while Greg showered and dressed. Then they each made themselves a cup of coffee and took Melody out to the children's balcony to play outside while they talked.

"Have you something in mind for how to determine what it is the Lord intended you to learn from the memories of yours that have been revealed?" Greg asked.

"Yes and no. I prayed on that topic a good long while last night," Mr. Simms shared.

"Somehow, I knew you would," Greg told him.

Mr. Simms nodded. "The thing that comes to mind most is what Rabbi Sloane shared with me last April when he was here."

"And what is that, if I may ask?" Greg said.

"He commented on the fact that you and Susan ... the two of you ... seem to be magnets for people with multiple life experiences," Mr. Simms said.

"That much is true," Greg said. "What else did he say?"

"He described to me the concept of a fulcrum," Mr. Simms said. "Do you know what that is?"

"I have heard him use the term to refer to those events which tie multiple souls together over multiple lifetimes," Greg said.

Mr. Simms nodded slowly. "Yes. Right now, in this life, I can see that happening. There are you, me, Susan, Jessie, Alan, Cindy, Ruth, Reuben, Neil, and Rosemary. There may be others, but that right there is ten people ... ten souls who are in some way connected with you, who have lived before."

"Yes, that's right," Greg said. "There is also Zackary and possibly Melody."

"I didn't know about Zackary ... Melody I suspected," Mr. Simms said.

"I see. Does this mean something to you, beyond the obvious?" Greg asked.

"It does because I can remember meeting many of these people before; some in this life, some as Levi," Mr. Simms said. "And some, I have met in both."

"For example?" Greg asked.

"Those I have met twice in this life are Melody, Alan, and Cindy ... you and Grandmother, and of course Ruth. But the three of you are different because although I have met you twice in this life, I also met you as Levi," Mr. Simms said. "Ruth especially, since she is also my soulmate and has been my wife twice."

"Go on," Greg said, encouraging him to continue.

"Then there are also those I have met only once in this life, but also knew as Levi. For me, Susan, Reuben, and Neil fall in that category." He paused in his recitation looking slightly troubled.

"What is it, Bobby?" Greg asked.

"I dreamt something last night ... something that makes me believe, I may have met you twice in my last life too, which would make four times all together," Mr. Simms said.

"Indeed. I don't see how that could be true," Greg said with a frown. "Unless you think you met me as Isaac Stein when Levi was a little boy."

"Could I have?" Mr. Simms asked.

"Isaac died in 1832. Do you know what year Levi was born?"

"No. Do you have any idea how to go about finding that out?" he asked.

Greg cocked his head. "Susan, Matt and I found out about you and the rest of Maxwell's family through consulting the U.S. Federal census records."

"Wouldn't we need to visit the National Archives to do that?" Mr. Simms asked.

"Not necessarily. Depending on what it is you are looking for, much of that information is available on line," Greg said.

"Do you know how to do that?" Mr. Simms asked doubtfully.

"Not as well as I should. Perhaps Matt will have time to show us before he goes to work today," Greg said.

"Do you know what time he is leaving?"

"No, but I can ask. Would you mind watching Melody for me?"

"Not at all."

Mr. Simms watched as Greg stepped back into the house. When he returned a few minutes later, Matthew was with him.

"Greg says you want to know how to use the internet?" Matt asked doubtfully.

"Not exactly. What we would like to do is to consult the U.S. census records," Mr. Simms said. "Greg says it is possible to do that from here."

"Yeah, it is. That's how we found you," Matt told him.

"That is what he said. How do you do that?" Mr. Simms asked.

"Well, first you have to have a computer. Are you going to use Mom's to do this, or have you got yours around here someplace?" Matt asked Greg.

"I haven't used mine regularly in a while, but now might be the time to start once again," Greg said.

"Do you want to do it out here?" Matt asked.

"I think it might be best if we did our research in the library," Greg said.

He looked down at Melody who came crawling towards Matt as they talked.

"Mapp, up," she said reaching for her brother.

"When are you going to learn to make the 't' sound?" he asked his little sister as he picked her up.

Melody grinned, leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Matt grinned too. "Yeah, I know. I love you too, Melody."

"Momma?" she said pointing towards the house.

"Mom's working today. You've got to stay with us, okay?" Matt said.

"Aren't you working today?" Greg asked.

"I am, but not until later this afternoon. I've got the dinner and evening shift tonight," Matt said. "So should we do this?"

"Yes, please," Mr. Simms said.

"I'll get my computer and meet you in the library," Greg said.

c

Matt and Mr. Simms were waiting for Greg at the little desk in the library by the time he returned with his laptop computer. He turned it on and waited for the machine to go through its startup routine while Matt started asking Mr. Simms questions about what it was he wanted to look up, writing down as many specifics as possible about what he already knew.

Once Greg's computer was ready, Matt navigated between various search screens until he came to the online version of the United States census records. He input in the information he had from Mr. Simms and they started looking. It didn't take nearly as long as Greg or Mr. Simms expected it would.

"Los Angeles wasn't all that big in 1900," Matt said.

Matt read through the record they found then said, "Hey, isn't this guy Levi Stone, the guy Rosalie sent Max's letters to?"

"He is," Greg agreed. "We were curious to learn more about him."

"Well you have," Matt said. "He was born on January 4th 1837, in New York. His wife's name was Delia. She was a little younger. Her birthdate was May 19th 1839. She was also born in New York. It says here she's had one kid, but there isn't anyone listed."

"They were in their sixties in 1900," Greg said. "It is probable their child was grown."

"Probably," Matt agreed.

"Does it say anything else about him?" Mr. Simms asked.

"He was a rabbi ... but I guess we already knew that," Matt said.

"We did," Mr. Simms agreed. "What is this, here?"

Matt read the legend. "The visitation number; I think they went door to door to ask everybody these questions," Matt explained.

Mr. Simms arched his brow. "You mean we can tell from this, who his neighbors were?"

"Yup," Matt said. "Why, does it matter?"

"It would give us an idea of what kind of neighborhood he lived in," Mr. Simms said.

"Yeah, I suppose it would," Matt said. "Is there anything more you wanted to look up?"

Greg looked questioningly at Mr. Simms.

"Not at this time, thank you," Mr. Simms told him.

"Sure," Matt said. "Do you want me to leave it on?" he asked gesturing towards Greg's computer.

"For now, if you would. Thank you, Matthew."

"Okay," Matt said. "Just let me know if you need more help."

"We will," Greg said.

The two men waited for Matt to leave before Greg turned with a questioning expression to Mr. Simms.

"What are you thinking?" Greg wondered.

"I am considering whether or not it might be possible to research that other fulcrum you and I identified," Mr. Simms said.

"Given Isaac died in 1832 and Levi wasn't born until 1837, it isn't possible that he met you," Greg said.

"I understand. However, Levi did know Mrs. Peabody and her husband, and her daughter, and her daughter's husband too. It is even possible he knew members of Isaac's family who lived in New York at that time. Come to think of it, he also knew Reuben, as I've said ... although I don't know what his name was in that past life," Mr. Simms said.

"And you are sure of that?" Greg asked.

Mr. Simms hesitated only briefly. "I would say, yes. I've told you before of this gift I have which enables me to identify those I have met in past lives. Reuben is one of those people; but, I have never before been able to place him. I believed he was simply mistaken in recognizing me when he asked last spring ... however I now understand that is because that recognition comes from my life as Levi ... which until yesterday, didn't seem possible to me."

"Is it now?" Greg asked.

Slowly, Mr. Simms nodded. "Yes, I believe it must be. I realize after all of this, that the gift I have been given is unique and rare. It is one I haven't had the opportunity to use very often before coming here. It occurs to me ... it may be tied to why I am here."

"That does seem likely," Greg agreed.

"I should like to discuss it with Rabbi Sloane some time," Mr. Simms remarked.

"Would you like me to make you an appointment?" Greg offered.

"Not yet. I haven't come to grips with all of this myself just yet," Mr. Simms explained.

"Is there anything I can do to help you do that?" Greg wondered.

Mr. Simms arched a brow. "I would like to know if I am right about Reuben."

"You should ask him about it sometime," Greg advised. "I feel certain he would share it with you."

"But you won't," Mr. Simms guessed.

"It is his to share, Bobby, not mine," Greg said.

Mr. Simms nodded. "So there is a privacy issue to these things?"

"Isn't there always, when it comes to human beings?" Greg asked.

"I see what you mean," Mr. Simms said. "But to add to my list, Levi also knew Max and Rosalie too. From what I can remember from that time, we all seemed to be living within a relatively small area in New York."

"That may be true ... all except for Reuben and Rosalie. I believe Reuben said he was from Boston in that life," Greg shared. "So was Rosalie."

"Are you certain?" Mr. Simms asked.

"As far as I know," Greg told him. "What are you thinking, Bobby?"

"I am thinking ... if I am right ... if we all did live as physically close together as our memories suggest in that life ... then perhaps whatever it was we are supposed to do now is the same thing we had an opportunity to accomplish then. Maybe if we can figure that out ... then maybe ... just maybe ... we won't have to come back again," he said.

Greg cocked his head.

"I am tired, Grandfather. I really don't want to do this all again," Mr. Simms said.

"That should always be our goal," Greg reminded him.

"Do you think we have enough information to try to find Levi in New York?" Mr. Simms asked.

"Using the census records you mean?" Greg asked.

"Yes. If they really did go from door to door as Matt said, we could get a pretty good idea of who was there back in the day," Mr. Simms said.

"In order to discover if what you are saying is true, we would have to find a year in which to search. The census is taken every decade," Greg said.

Mr. Simms arched his brow. "Which means, in order to find a record of Levi in New York, we would have to search for him in a record early enough to have been created before he left to go west, but late enough that all the people we hope to find would be there."

"Yes. You speculated Levi left Boston in 1867 or 1868," Greg said.

"And given what we learned about his property purchase in 1875, I think that is correct. It would have taken him several years of working in San Francisco in order to build up the funds necessary to do that," Mr. Simms said.

"Which means the most recent census available in which we might find him in New York was 1860. Maxwell was born in 1857, so that is also the absolute earliest record we could look at if you intend to find them both," Greg said.

"I think it's worth a look, don't you?" Mr. Simms said.

"You do realize ... Max would have been a boy of only 3 at the time of the census and only 10 when you left New York City?"

"What of it?" Mr. Simms said.

"What work of the Lord's do you expect a ten-year-old could tend to which would have enabled us to succeed in that life?" Greg wondered.

"I don't know, Greg. That's the reason I am proposing we do this exercise ... in order to find out. Shall we at least look?"

"New York was a big city, even in 1860," Greg cautioned. "It was much larger then than Los Angeles was in 1900. Also, we knew where in Los Angeles to look. We had an address to help us narrow it down."

"I think we can make an educated guess," Mr. Simms said.

"Based on what?" Greg asked.

"You said you grew up there? In New York City?" Mr. Simms asked.

"I did."

"Was it a Jewish neighborhood?" Mr. Simms asked.

"Yes, predominately it was, although there were also Italians and a few Greek families living around us," Greg said.

"Immigrants mostly?" Mr. Simms said.

"Yes."

"Let's start by looking in that area. Even a century ago, neighborhoods of that sort tend to have some things in common," Mr. Simms said.

Greg nodded. "Very well. I propose this afternoon, after we put Melody down for her nap, we look."

Mr. Simms grinned. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Greg said.

Later that afternoon, while Melody was napping, Greg and Mr. Simms spent their time exactly as planned. Going through the entire population of New York City line by line, neighborhood by neighborhood, in order to find the right one, is a very big task. Neither of them had any idea how to relate the various volumes of the census records to a particular neighborhood, so they began at random. Consequently, they barely made a dent in their search on that day.

On Thursday, Rosemary was there to care for Melody all day, and all day. Greg and Mr. Simms spent their time glued to Greg's computer, looking for the handful of names they recognized, amongst the thousands of names they were able to look through in the census records. Although occasionally they came across a name one of them thought sounded familiar, none they saw were amongst the names they started out to find.

"How did you do?" Susan asked on Thursday night, over supper.

"It is very slow going," Greg told her. "I expect it will take us the whole of tomorrow too."

Greg's prediction proved to be right. By the time the family gathered to welcome in the Sabbath on Friday evening, they still hadn't found anything.

"This is very tedious to do. Although we are able to review between one and two thousand names per day, given there were over eight hundred thousand people living in New York City at the time we are looking, this is going to take a very long time," Greg concluded when he told Susan of their efforts after supper that evening.

"Wouldn't it help if you had the address for one of the people you are looking for?" Susan asked.

"Yes, it would. Of course it would," Greg told her.

"Bobby, didn't you say something once upon a time about having a letter from your mother's grandmother, somewhere amongst your possessions?"

Mr. Simms arched a brow. "Mama kept them from when she was young ... just before she married," Mr. Simms said.

"Do you still have any of those letters?" Greg wondered.

"I do ... in a box in my closet at the home," Mr. Simms told him.

Greg considered the old man thoughtfully. "I wonder if it would be a better use of our time and energy to make a trip to Menlo Park together next week. We could investigate your old letters and visit the National Archives while we are there. We may even have the opportunity to consult with Reuben about what we've learned or we think we know."

Mr. Simms arched his brow. "Is it your intension to send me home early?"

Greg arched his brow. "Surely you know by now that when you are with us, you are home. You are welcome to stay as long as you like, Bobby. I recommended the trip only because it seems to me to be the most expedient method to find out what we are trying to learn."

"Of course, it would be that ... it might save us endless days of fruitless searching if we had that information in our hands," Mr. Simms said thoughtfully.

"My thoughts exactly," Greg said.

Mr. Simms nodded slowly as he thought about Greg's idea. "You intend to go with me?" he confirmed.

"Yes. This is a project we have undertaken together," Greg assured him.

The two men considered each other for a moment.

"It is not my intension to cut your visit short. You could return with me, if you wish," Greg added.

Mr. Simms cocked his head. "Originally, I was to stay only until Susan's next business trip to the Bay Area. When is that?"

"Week after next," Susan told him. "My next in-house days are September 21st and 22nd. Today is September 10th."

"Would you prefer to wait and all go at the same time?" Mr. Simms wondered.

"Susan and I can't both be away from home at the same time during the school year," Greg reminded him.

"We'd have to take Jessie and Zack out of school," Susan said.

"Of course," Mr. Simms said. "However if Greg and I were to visit the Bay Area next week for a few days, then come home for the weekend, and was I return with you again the following Tuesday, that seems like an awful lot of fuss and bother to me. It seems to me, if I go back to the home now, I should either stay and remain there, for a nice long stay, or return here ... for longer than a few days."

Greg arched a brow at the old man before turning to exchange a look with Susan.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"We've talked about this before," Susan reminded him.

"What have you talked about before?" Mr. Simms asked the pair.

"We have considered extending the offer to have you live with us. Permanently," Greg explained.

Mr. Simms arched a brow at him. "You mean, move in with you?"

"If you would prefer it to living at the retirement home," Greg explained.

"As a residence, choosing between your home and the retirement home would be a simple decision. However as I'm sure you are aware, real life seldom offers us choices which are quite so simple. I have financial obligations to the home in return to caring for me all these years. Also, my doctors are there ... and my friends. I know you are family, Greg ... you, Susan, Jessie, and Rosemary ... you all are. But my belongings are there," Mr. Simms reminded him.

"We could move anything you wish to bring with you," Greg assured him. "We could adjust the furnishings of your rooms here to suit you."

Mr. Simms arched his brow. "I'm not all that attached to my furnishings, if I'm honest with you ... with the possible exception of my old arm chair. But wouldn't moving me permanently into my rooms here, deprive you of the use of those rooms for those occasions when your relatives visit?" Mr. Simms asked.

"I am certain we could work around it ... if living with us is something you would like to do," Greg offered.

"Can I think about it?" Mr. Simms asked. "I do agree your proposal to visit the Bay Area next week, ahead of Susan, would be a good thing to do. I don't necessarily want to stay in Menlo Park just now, so what if I came back with you and continued my visit here until her next trip?"

Susan arched her brow. "That probably won't be until the end of October or early November. Would you rather do that, or stay at the home until then and come home with me again later in the fall and stay through the holidays this year? I realize that means you'll be going back a week earlier than you originally planned this time, but what do you think?"

"You are suggesting that if I wait to come home with you in October or November, I could stay through the end of the year? Until the end of December?" he asked, wanting to make sure he'd heard them correctly.

"Yes. Until sometime in January. I could take you back during my first business trip after the new year," Susan said. "We could even bring some of your things back with you in October, if you'd like. That way you could split your time more fully between here and Menlo Park, if that would make things easier for you."

"I'm just about doing that now ... and it would make things simpler, now that you mention it, if I didn't have to carry so much back and forth," Mr. Simms said. "Yes, I would like to do that."

Greg grinned. "That sounds like a plan. I'll make our travel arrangements this weekend and let Alan and Cindy, Ruth and Reuben, and the retirement home know we're coming."

c