September Sky (American Journey Book 1)

by John A. Heldt

  "Justin? Is this about me?"

  Justin shook his head as he stared out the windshield.

  "No, Dad. It's not about you. It's about a lot of things, but it's not about you."

  "Care to elaborate?"

  "Not now."

  "Justin?"

  The young man looked at his father.

  "We'll talk on the boat."

  CHAPTER 3: CHUCK

  Off Baja California, Mexico – Monday, March 21, 2016

  Chuck took in the sights and sounds from his table on the terraced sun deck, smiled, and shook his head. He couldn't believe how much cruise ships had changed in twenty-four years – or how much they had remained the same.

  The ship he remembered boarding as a college junior in 1992 didn't have water slides or elevated hot tubs or a three-bedroom suite that overlooked the boat's biggest pool. It did have a full complement of screaming children, seniors in sun hats, and beautiful women, who paraded to and from a poolside bar in a variety of skimpy outfits.

  "What's wrong?" Justin asked from across the table.

  "Nothing's wrong," Chuck said. "I was just thinking about how some things have changed since I took a cruise in college and others have not."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean the ships are bigger and fancier, but the people who board them are pretty much the same. They all seem to be having a good time, though, which is all that matters."

  "Yeah. I guess it is," Justin said. He returned to his umbrella drink, a multi-colored concoction with a long, forgettable name.

  "Are you ever going to tell me what this is all about?" Chuck asked.

  "You mean dropping out of school?"

  "Yes. I mean dropping out of school. I also mean your general demeanor. You don't look happy, Justin. You look lost. You used to have a zest for life that I admired and envied. I don't see that anymore."

  Justin smiled sadly.

  "It's because I don't have it anymore. I haven't had it for a long time."

  Chuck placed his can of beer on the table and looked at his son.

  "What's going on? This can't be just about school."

  "It's not," Justin said. "It's about accepting things as they are. It's about admitting that I'm just not as fired up about life as I used to be."

  "I don't understand."

  "You don't, but Caitlin did. Do you know how she broke up with me?"

  "No. You haven't told me."

  "Well, Dad, I'll tell you. She did it all at the breakfast table. She got out of bed one morning about two weeks ago, kissed me as I was studying for a test, and told me that she was leaving – not leaving for a class or her job or a day at the beach, but leaving. She said we had 'run our course' and walked out of the apartment. She didn't even come back to collect her belongings. She sent a friend to do that."

  "I'm sorry, Justin."

  Justin gazed wistfully at a thirtyish couple and their two children as they splashed and played in the pool. A moment later, he looked back at his father.

  "You know what the worst part was?"

  "What?" Chuck asked.

  "She was right. We had run our course. Things hadn't been right with us for weeks."

  "OK. I get that much. You're depressed. Your social life took a hit. What I don't understand is why you are dropping out of school in the middle of your junior year. Why quit now?"

  "I need a break. That's why," Justin said. "I need to think about where I want to go in life before I commit any more time or money to school."

  "Don't you want to be a surgeon?"

  "I don't know. I thought I did. Mom thought it was my calling, but I'm not so sure. When I look at doctors today, at least the ones who work for health-care organizations, I see a bunch of managed robots. I see people who put up with a lot for relatively little and don't have the time or latitude to develop meaningful relationships with their patients."

  "The world's changed, Justin. Medicine's changed with it. What you want exists only in small towns and TV shows from the fifties."

  "I know," Justin said. "That's why I have to take a break. I don't want to train to be a surgeon if my heart's not in it. I don't want to train to be anything unless I really believe in what I'm doing. I'll figure it out. I always do. I just need a few months to sort out my life and find a new purpose, that's all."

  Chuck smiled and shook his head. His son had clearly inherited more from his mother than wavy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He had picked up her good sense too.

  "What?" Justin asked.

  Chuck laughed.

  "Here all this time I thought you were quitting school to do something crazy like join a religious cult or follow a pretty exchange student back to Latvia."

  "My life's not that exciting, Dad. But it is complicated now."

  "I know it is, Justin. If you need time to sort things out, then take it. I want you to be happy. There's more to life than a career. I'm afraid I found that out a little too late."

  Justin sighed.

  "It doesn't matter. You're here now, and I'm glad to have you here. Maybe we can put our heads together and solve all of our problems. How's your job search going?"

  "It's not going at all," Chuck said. "I've decided to take a page from your playbook and see what's out there before jumping back into journalism."

  "You don't want to report anymore?"

  "I don't know. That's all I've done for twenty-three years. Maybe it's time to see what else I can do. I've never really considered other possibilities until now."

  "Do you plan to stay in San Francisco?" Justin asked.

  Chuck nodded.

  "I'd like to stay. I've developed an affinity for fog and high rent. But unemployment checks won't pay the bills. If I don't find a job soon, I'll have to live in a shelter."

  "You can always come down here. In case you haven't heard, I need a roommate."

  Chuck laughed.

  "I may just take you up on that."

  Justin let his eyes wander as a couple of bikini-clad college girls casually strolled past the table. He returned his attention to Chuck in time to see him smile and shake his head.

  "Now what?" Justin asked.

  "It's nothing. I'm just enjoying watching my son be twenty-one."

  "It's not a crime to girl watch."

  Chuck laughed again.

  "No, it's not. Not in a place like this, anyway."

  "What do you want to do tonight?" Justin asked.

  "Let's go ashore. Let's walk around Cabo and find some trouble."

  Justin shook his head.

  "We can't do that tonight. We won't even arrive there until noon tomorrow, at least according to the itinerary."

  "Then let's find something to do on the boat," Chuck said. "Do you have any suggestions? There must be more to this ship than buffets, pools, and pick-up bars."

  "There is."

  Chuck turned around to face the person behind the voice. She sat at an adjacent table.

  "I beg your pardon?" Chuck said.

  "You don't need to beg for anything aboard this ship, Mister …"

  "Townsend. Chuck Townsend. And you are?"

  "Claire LeBoutillier," the woman said.

  Chuck shaded his eyes with a hand and gave the eavesdropper a closer inspection. Wearing a white pantsuit, a wide-brimmed hat, huge sunglasses, and more jewelry than a gypsy fortune-teller, the elderly woman looked like a Love Boat extra – an extra who probably knew more about cruise ships and cruises than the crew itself.

  "Have you been listening to our conversation?" Chuck asked.

  "Of course. I hope you don't mind. At my age, you do what you can for amusement."

  "Well, Ms. LeBoutillier, I hope we've amused you."

  "You have. You've inspired me as well. It's refreshing to see two young men handle adversity as well as you seem to have."

  Chuck laughed to himself at the reference. It had been a long time since anyone had called him a young man.

  "Thank you," Chuck said. "I think we'l
l handle our problems just fine."

  "I'm sure you will. As for the matter at hand, there is more to this ship than buffets, pools, and bars. There is a free lecture series that runs every night this week."

  "What are the lectures about?"

  "The topics vary," Claire said. "There's a lecture on investing on Tuesday and another on sex after sixty on Thursday. I'm looking forward to that one."

  Chuck laughed.

  "I'll bet you are. How about this evening? What's on tap tonight?"

  "Why, time travel, of course. Professor Geoffrey Bell will talk about blasts to the past. He's considered quite an expert on the subject."

  Chuck studied Claire's face for a moment – to make sure she wasn't putting him on – and then slowly redirected his attention to his son. He appeared lost in his thoughts as he stared blankly toward the back of the boat.

  "What do you think, Justin? Shall we educate ourselves on time travel?"

  Justin nodded slightly and then turned to face his father.

  "Why not? After a month like this, I could use a little escape."

  CHAPTER 4: CHUCK

  As lecture halls go, the Morris Auditorium on Deck 12 of the Pacific Star 2 was small. With fewer than 150 seats, narrow aisles, and a low ceiling, it was smaller than the theaters in most shopping-mall multiplexes. In this case, however, small was good. Chuck had no difficulty hearing the wit and wisdom of a college professor who believed that time travel was possible.

  Chuck studied the lecturer as he sat between Justin and his new best friend Claire LeBoutillier in the middle of the second row. With unruly blond hair, wild eyes, and the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning, Geoffrey Bell looked more like Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka than a serious fifty-two-year-old academic with a doctorate in physics from Oxford. But he was as persuasive and compelling as any speaker Chuck had ever heard.

  "Just out of curiosity, how many of you have seen Back to the Future?" Bell asked as he walked across a small stage. "Let's see a show of hands."

  More then eighty percent of the hundred or so people in attendance raised a hand. Most of those who didn't appeared to be under twenty years of age.

  "That's what I thought," Bell said. "Let me ask another question. How many of you believe it is possible to travel back in time in a DeLorean?"

  Two college girls in the front row raised their hands, prompting widespread laughter. Chuck didn't know whether the ladies were optimists, attention seekers, or failures of public education, but he suspected that they were just the foils the professor was looking for.

  Bell smiled.

  "It's nice to see that Hollywood can still sway the undecided," Bell said. "I like that. The world needs more open minds. Even so, I can hardly fault those of you who didn't raise a hand. You are right to be skeptical. People don't just hop into fast cars and drive to the 1950s."

  Chuck settled into his cushioned seat.

  "That's not to say that time travel is solely the product of fiction," Bell continued. "Though it is true that scientists demonstrated years ago that a single photon cannot travel faster than the speed of light – thus 'proving' that time travel is impossible – it is also true that our understanding of physics and the world around us is still very limited. There are powers that we are only now beginning to grasp, including supernatural powers that may someday do for modern science what electricity did for previous generations."

  Chuck glanced at Justin and then at Claire and saw that Bell had made at least two fans. Both smiled and nodded whenever the lecturer extended his arms or raised his voice.

  Chuck found Bell no less engaging, but he didn't buy into his message. As a reporter, Charles Townsend put his faith in facts and science – not conjecture. He guessed that the professor would probably end his fifty-minute talk with a pitch for a book.

  He guessed wrong. When Bell finished his program twenty minutes later, he fielded about a dozen questions and then asked two assistants to distribute 5-by-7-inch note cards and pencils to members of the audience. The cards did not tout a book but instead asked three questions that seemed better suited for a college midterm than a cruise-ship lecture.

  "As you can see, I have a few questions of my own this evening," Bell said. "I ask only for your thorough and honest replies. Participation, of course, is voluntary. You can drop the cards in the box by the door on your way out. Thank you again for attending tonight's lecture. I look forward to seeing all of you during the remainder of the cruise. Have a pleasant evening."

  Bell stepped away from the podium and acknowledged strong applause with a slight bow. A moment later, he walked toward a door near one edge of the stage and exited the auditorium.

  Over the course of the next two minutes, most in the audience followed suit. Claire was no exception. She stood up, turned to face the Townsends, and extended a hand.

  "It's been a pleasure, gentlemen. Perhaps I'll see you at one of the other lectures."

  Chuck and Justin rose from their seats and shook Claire's hand.

  "Count on it," Chuck said. "This was a real treat. Thanks for letting us know about it."

  "You're very welcome," Claire said.

  She smiled at her new friends and took her leave. When she reached the end of the line waiting to exit the room, Chuck and Justin returned to their seats.

  "Are you going to fill out your card?" Justin asked.

  "Why not? Five minutes won't kill me," Chuck said. "I don't know why the professor needs this information, but if I can help him by scribbling on a note card, I'll do it. He's worth it."

  Chuck retrieved a golf pencil from his pocket and then took a closer look at the form in his hand. The top part requested his name, occupation, and phone number. The bottom part contained three questions. He started with the first.

  Do you believe that time travel is possible?

  Chuck found the question surprisingly difficult to answer. While he didn't believe that time travel was possible in 2016, he conceded that it might be possible in the future. He remembered that space travel, too, was once considered impossible and that mankind had gone from Jules Verne to the moon in just one short century. He wrote down his response, went back to enter his name and contact information, and proceeded to Question 2.

  If you had the opportunity to travel back to the 1900s and return safely to the present day, would you do it?

  The reporter read the question twice and looked away as he thought it over. This was easy to answer. Hell, yes, he would do it. Who wouldn't? To travel back in time and return safely to the present day would be the adventure of a lifetime. Chuck didn't understand why Bell had singled out the twentieth century, but he figured he probably had a reason. Most academics had a method to their madness and Chuck guessed that Professor Geoffrey Bell, time-travel expert and cruise-ship lecturer, was no exception. He scribbled a few lines and moved on to the last question.

  If you answered "yes" to Question 2, why would you do it?

  Chuck scratched his head. The answer to the question seemed obvious. Like most people, he would travel through time for the sheer experience. He would do it to gain knowledge of the past and live life as only the world's oldest surviving inhabitants had lived it.

  The more he thought about the question, however, the more he thought that his answer was incomplete. Traveling to the past, right now, with his life at a crossroads, would be like traveling to Tahiti or Alaska or even a remote stretch of the Sierras. The experience would give him a chance to take a much-needed breather, gain perspective, and perhaps move forward in a happier and more productive direction.

  Chuck answered the question on the back of the form and then glanced at Justin just as a small smile formed on his face. He could see that he, too, was having fun with the exercise. He returned to his card and added a final comment.

  "I enjoyed your lecture immensely, Professor Bell. You almost made a believer out of this hardened old skeptic."

  Chuck turned again toward his son. When he saw that Justin was finished, h
e got up from his seat and scanned the auditorium. Only five people remained. Apparently the majority had better things to do than fill out questionnaires on a cruise ship. Go figure.

  "Are you ready to go?" Chuck asked.

  "Yeah. I think so," Justin replied. "What do you want to do now?"

  Chuck put a hand on Justin's shoulder and smiled.

  "Let's check out the buffet. All this talk about time travel has made me hungry."

  CHAPTER 5: JUSTIN

  Los Angeles, California – Tuesday, March 29, 2016

  The apartment felt emptier now – not empty, just emptier. Gone were the posters, plants, and knickknacks that had given the previously coed domain a decidedly feminine touch. Caitlin's friend Molly had undoubtedly completed what she had started when the Townsends cruised the Mexican Riviera.

  Justin didn't mind. The last thing he needed or wanted was a reminder of a once-satisfying relationship that had officially "run its course."

  Besides, he had a new-and-improved father now – one who seemed to be fully engaged and, as of March 15, had all the time in the world. Despite all the hurt and frustration of the past, Justin considered himself lucky to have at least one person in his corner as he tried to find new meaning to his mixed-up life.

  "Did you ever find your phone?" Justin asked.

  "No. I had it last night. I know I left it here somewhere," Chuck said. "I'd have you call my number, but I'm not sure the phone would ring. I drained its battery on the cruise."

  "We'll find it."

  Justin sat down on his sofa, a thinly upholstered "college couch" he and Caitlin had picked up in August, and took a minute to rest. He laughed to himself as he surveyed an apartment in transition. Books, clothes, and unopened mail littered one end of the room. Unboxed dishes, mugs, and utensils begged for attention at the other.

  What a mess.