Weena survives the forest fire, evades the Morlocks, and tells her style="background-color:rgb(255,255,255);color:rgb(15,17,17);font-size:14px;">Nearing the end of her life and in fragile health, Ally Corrigan, the world’s richest woman, summons young journalist Kris Parsons for a tell-all interview. He expects to learn the secrets behind the unparalleled financial success of her and deceased husband, Joe, which began more than sixty years earlier when they stepped from the Maine backwoods to claim a multi-million-dollar lottery style="background-color:rgb(255,255,255);color:rgb(15,17,17);font-size:14px;">Instead, Ally Corrigan spins a tale spread across eight hundred thousand years. Wells’ novel wasn’t a work of fiction. The Time Traveler existed. Most important, Weena lived to tell her style="background-color:rgb(255,255,255);color:rgb(15,17,17);font-size:14px;">At the end of an incredible tale of love found, lost, and rediscovered; a people’s redemption; and Weena’s adaptation to twenty-first-century life, Kris doubts his host’s sanity, but Ally has a final style="margin-left:0px;">                                                                                                            EXCERPT from COME FIND ME

A Sci-fi romance with less physics and more physical.  Still PG style="margin-left:0px;">Weena Speaks from a room at the New Yorker Hotel on January 7, 1943, and bids farewell to Nikola Tesla, The Time Traveler

Nikola walked to the bed, took off his shoes, and lay style="margin-left:0px;">Joe and I pulled chairs beside him. Earlier, I gave him a stilted acceptance for leaving me behind, an acceptance which satisfied neither of us. We sat in the room’s overpowering silence. I clutched a hand of the impossibly skinny human bundle on the bed. Years later, only after seeing the results of famine could I describe Nikola’s physical style="margin-left:0px;">I looked at The Time Traveler directly, in the way he always looked at me. Holding back tears, I gave him the only farewell gift I style="margin-left:0px;">I serenaded Nikola in the Eloi language, in the soft musical voice of the girl-child he once knew. Songs dedicated to gentle rains and sunshine-filled days, to lush orchards overflowing with fruit, and to memories. His joy when I gave him a garland of flowers for saving my life, ours when we danced in the Palace of Green Porcelain after finding a box of matches, and mine at his return from the Morlock underworld—everything good from our time together. I paused only to kiss style="margin-left:0px;">Nikola’s eyes clouded over in gratitude. Contentment found his face. I warmed, knowing my effort style="margin-left:0px;">Toward morning, a deep rattling breath announced his passing. I closed his eyes and held his hand, wetting it with quiet, sighing tears while Joe waited in patient understanding. After an hour, the noises of morning workers began to fill the spaces outside Nikola’s style="margin-left:0px;">Joe touched my shoulder. “It’s time to go.” His subdued tone matched my style="margin-left:0px;">“Yes, of course.” The tear-choked reply struggled to rise above a whisper. I kissed Nikola’s forehead and followed Joe from the room. Abandonment and broken promises, whatever the cause or reason, no longer mattered. I paused at the door of the suite and style="margin-left:0px;">“I forgive you Time