September Sky (American Journey Book 1)

by John A. Heldt

  "This is quite a group," Chuck whispered into Charlotte's ear. "I don't think there's been a more interesting dinner for thirteen since the Last Supper."

  Charlotte smiled nervously.

  "Be nice, Charles. We need a grown-up at this table."

  Chuck couldn't disagree. When he scanned the faces around him, he saw more children than adults. Even Anna, who played with the sauerkraut on her otherwise empty plate, acted more like a grown-up than most of the people in her party.

  Deciding to pacify the most contentious member of the group, Chuck turned toward Max and started to say something nice. But before he could raise a glass to the city's German community, Julia Brown tapped her goblet and made a toast of her own.

  "Before the music starts and we go our separate ways, I'd like to remind you all that we have a genuine hero in our presence," Julia said. She smiled at Justin. "Here's to young men who show up at the right time in the right places."

  "Hear, hear!"

  Everyone at the table clinked glasses.

  Chuck looked on with amusement as Justin blushed and with utter fascination as Emily gazed at him adoringly. He knew she had warmed up to his son in recent days, but not how much. He felt good about the change but worried about the problems it might bring in the long run.

  "I spoke to a lifeguard on duty that day who said you used a rather unusual technique to save Mr. Benton's life," Levi said. "He said you actually put your mouth on his and blew air into his lungs. Is that right?"

  "That's right," Justin said.

  "Where did you learn this 'procedure'?"

  Chuck glanced at Justin and gave him a green-light nod. He knew his son well enough to know that he could handle the question adroitly, even if the question came from a crafty prosecutor and jilted fiancé who was clearly fishing for trouble.

  "I learned it in California," Justin said. "I was a lifeguard there for several years."

  "I see," Levi said. He raised a brow. "It seems there are many things you do in California that we don't do in the rest of the nation."

  "I'm sure the other states will catch up," Justin said cheerfully. "I'd be happy to teach you the technique if you'd like."

  "No, thank you."

  Chuck, Wyatt, and most of the women laughed heartily. Goldie forced a weak smile. Silas, Levi, and Max looked at Justin like he was an annoying pest begging to be swatted.

  When the busty waitress who had plied the diners all night with beer and schnapps returned with apple strudel and chocolate cake, Chuck took a moment to scan the ballroom. He saw what he had expected to see – the city's rich, famous, and well-connected mingling with its large and influential German community. Then he glanced at the entrance and saw something he didn't expect to see – the man who had interrupted his first interview with Silas Fitzpatrick.

  Chuck didn't know why the individual he knew as Thomas Mack, private investigator, kept popping up everywhere he or Justin went, but he knew he didn't like it. There was something strange about the dateless man by the door, something that didn't quite add up.

  Chuck gave the mystery man another moment and then turned to the much more pleasant distraction at his side. When he looked at Charlotte Emerson, he saw more than a woman in a light blue embroidered evening dress. He saw someone he never wanted to leave.

  For more than two weeks, Chuck had obsessed over his new dilemma. He tried to think of a solution that didn't involve staying in 1900 or bringing Charlotte to 2016, but he couldn't. He knew at some point he would have to make a serious sacrifice or ask her to do the same.

  The problem always came down to the same thing. He couldn't imagine Charlotte leaving her family, friends, and familiar world any more than he could imagine leaving his. He hadn't even broached the subject with Justin, whose views on the matter would be as important as anyone's.

  Chuck put his arm around his date and pulled her close as the band started up. He knew he would have to come up with an answer soon, but he knew he wouldn't have to do so tonight or even for several more weeks. He decided to make the most of an incredible evening and hope that wisdom would come to him when he needed it.

  "I hear music, Mrs. Emerson. Would you care to dance?" Chuck asked.

  "I may in a little while. Right now, I want to sit and enjoy your company."

  Chuck tilted his head.

  "Are you sure? I'm kind of boring."

  Charlotte smiled.

  "Let me be the judge of that."

  Chuck laughed and settled into his chair as most of the others got up from theirs and headed for the polished hardwood dance floor. He nodded to Justin and Wyatt, the last ones to leave, as they escorted their dates away from the table.

  "It looks like it's just the five of us now," Isabella Beck said from the other end of the table. She sat next to her glowering husband and fidgety daughter.

  "I take it you're not much for dancing," Chuck said.

  "Oh, I am. But Max is not in the mood right now."

  "I see."

  Anna got out of her chair and whispered something in her mother's ear. She smiled when Isabella nodded and gave her some sort of instructions.

  "Remember to leave the grown-ups alone," Isabella said.

  "I will," Anna replied.

  The girl ran off and disappeared into a crowd that had formed in the middle of the hall.

  "She's adorable," Chuck said. "If I had a daughter, I'd want one just like Anna – or Emily, for that matter."

  "What a coincidence," Isabella said. She smiled. "If I had a son, I'd want one just like Justin."

  Chuck laughed.

  "I guess we have more in common than I thought."

  "I'm sure we have a lot in common," Isabella said. "It was so nice to finally meet you after all that we have heard about you. We think the world of your son. Don't we, Max?"

  Max glared at his wife and then at Chuck.

  "Yes," he muttered.

  "We're also delighted that you've extended your stay in Galveston," Isabella said. "I can't tell you how much that means to Emily. How long do you plan to stay?"

  Chuck glanced at Max and Charlotte and saw that Isabella wasn't the only person at the table who wanted an answer to that question. He smiled softly at Charlotte, grabbed her hand under the table, and turned to face Isabella.

  "Justin and I plan to stick around at least through Labor Day," Chuck said. "Whether we stay longer will depend entirely on how our summer goes."

  "I see," Isabella said.

  Chuck glanced again at Charlotte and saw a frown. He could see she was hoping for a more definitive answer. He vowed to engage in damage control at the earliest opportunity.

  "Have you completed the research for your book?" Isabella asked.

  "I have," Chuck said. "I actually finished my work a month ago but had to start over after my cabin was burglarized. The thief took most of my notes."

  Though he spoke to Isabella, Chuck looked directly at Max. He had hoped to see a guilty expression on his face and was mildly disappointed when he didn't find one.

  "I'm sorry to hear that your belongings were taken," Max said. "If you wish to know more about passenger shipping or even the community, I'd be happy to educate you."

  "I appreciate that, Max."

  Chuck did too. Though he still considered Max a prime suspect in the crime, he appreciated his willingness to talk. As a reporter, Chuck had often pulled useful tidbits from reluctant subjects. He could only imagine what Max might reveal under direct questioning.

  "Can I count on you, then, for an interview?"

  Max smiled.

  "Of course. I owe you at least that much."

  "You don't owe me a thing," Chuck said.

  "I disagree, Mr. Townsend. I owe you a lot. Or at least I owe your son a lot."

  "I don't understand."

  "It's simple. Since your son began seeing my daughter, my daughter has stopped talking about college and medicine," Max said. He sipped his beer. "That is a feat worth rewarding."

 
CHAPTER 42: JUSTIN

  Justin looked away from the green-eyed beauty he held in his arms and laughed.

  "Well, what do you know? Our fathers are breaking bread."

  He wheeled Emily in the direction of the dining table from hell.

  "Don't read too much into what you see," Emily said. "My father is probably negotiating my future. He does that every now and then."

  Justin resumed dancing – or whatever it was he was trying to do. He had done little but trip over his feet since guiding Emily to the dance floor. When the band switched from polkas to waltzes, he focused solely on holding his partner upright.

  "You don't like your dad, do you?"

  "Can we discuss something else?" Emily asked.

  Justin nodded.

  "We can discuss how I feel about you."

  Emily smiled.

  "That's a much better topic."

  "I'm glad you think so because I've wanted to tell you how I feel for days," Justin said. "I'm insanely crazy about you."

  Emily giggled.

  "Insanely crazy is redundant, Mr. Townsend, but I understand your point," Emily said. She sighed and looked at Justin thoughtfully. "I feel the same about you."

  "You do?"

  Emily nodded.

  "It took me a while to get there, but I got there. I hope you'll forgive me for the way I treated you those first few weeks."

  "Don't apologize, Emily. It's a sign of weakness."

  She pinched his arm.

  "Ouch!"

  "Don't say that again or I'll revisit my feelings," Emily said.

  "OK. In your case, it's a sign of great strength."

  "That's better."

  "Seriously, though, I don't blame you for viewing me with skepticism," Justin said. "I am a male, after all, and you haven't had the best luck with that half of the species."

  "No. I haven't. But that's no excuse for treating you shabbily."

  Justin pondered a reply but decided to remain silent. He knew she was genuinely remorseful, and he didn't want to say or do anything that might jeopardize their newfound momentum.

  When the quartet finished playing, Justin clapped with the others and then led Emily to an unoccupied corner of the pavilion. He spoke when he was sure others couldn't eavesdrop.

  "You were quiet at dinner tonight. Did Levi get under your skin?"

  "No. I enjoyed watching him squirm."

  "It's kind of funny that he ended up with Goldie," Justin said. "I can't imagine asking someone I put in prison to anything, much less a formal dance. That's just too weird."

  "I actually admire what he did," Emily said. "Levi could have asked several other women to this dance, but he didn't. When he heard that all of the librarians except Goldie were coming here tonight, he came over to the library and asked her out."

  "Does he like her?"

  "I think they are just friends," Emily said. "I asked her the same question yesterday and she shook her head. Then again, Goldie's very secretive about who she dates."

  "What about Silas? He kind of keeps to himself too."

  "He's a very private person, which was one of the reasons I wanted nothing to do with him. If I'm going to spend the rest of my life with a man, I want to know everything about him – warts and all. I doubt there are five people in this room who could tell you even five things about Silas. He's an enigma and a not very likeable one at that."

  The band resumed playing.

  "Shall we dance some more?" Justin asked.

  "Of course."

  Justin put one hand in Emily's and the other on her waist. When they began to find a rhythm in their newer, quieter dance space, he resumed the conversation.

  "If Silas is an enigma, then what am I?" Justin asked.

  Emily smiled.

  "You're an enigma, too, albeit a much nicer one."

  Justin tilted his head.

  "Seriously? What is it about me that you don't understand?"

  "How much time do you have?"

  "I'm not that mysterious, Emily."

  "You're very mysterious. I know almost nothing about you. Fortunately for you, Mr. Townsend, what I do know, I like."

  Justin smiled. He decided to let the matter drop.

  Justin pulled his date close and resumed an activity he called stumble avoidance. He knew he would never land a spot on Dancing with the Stars, but he didn't really care. He would rather trip and fall with Emily Beck than win a contest with anyone else.

  For the next few minutes, Justin did nothing but look at his partner and enjoy a truly magical moment. He didn't speak until the band switched to a tune that sounded vaguely familiar.

  "What's this song?" Justin asked.

  "It's 'Daisy Bell,' of course."

  "I thought it was 'Bicycle Built for Two,' or something like that."

  "No. It's 'Daisy Bell.'"

  "OK," Justin said. "I'll take your word for it. Either way, I've heard it before."

  "I should hope you have."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "What I mean is that 'Daisy Bell' has been the most popular song in the country for eight years running," Emily said. "Don't they play it in California?"

  Justin grinned.

  "Only in elevators."

  "What?"

  "I'm just kidding."

  Emily smiled and shook her head.

  "I'm not sure I'd like California if they don't play songs like 'Daisy Bell.'"

  "Trust me," Justin said. "You'd like California no matter what songs they played."

  "I suppose."

  Justin stepped on Emily's foot for the ninth or tenth time and fell backward. He caught himself just before he reached the point of no return.

  "Ugh! Sorry," Justin said. "I'm just not much of a dancer."

  "That's all right."

  "Maybe you can teach me the waltz and some of these other crazy dances when you get the chance. I'd like that."

  "I'll tell you what," Emily said. "I'll teach you the waltz if you teach me how to save people who are unconscious."

  "You mean mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?"

  "I mean mouth-to-mouth resuscitation," Emily said. She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "I'd really like that."

  Justin stopped dancing, pulled his hand out of hers, and rubbed his chin.

  "I believe I can fit you into my schedule."

  "Good! How about tomorrow?"

  "Oh, Lord," Justin said with a laugh. "You are a handful."

  "Then will you teach me?"

  "Yes. I'll teach you. But first you have to help me with my dancing."

  Justin knew he was done dancing with Emily the second the words left his mouth. He looked over her shoulder and saw Anna stare at him with the saddest eyes he had ever seen.

  "What's the matter?" Emily asked.

  "It appears you have competition for my affections."

  Emily turned around, looked at her sister, and giggled.

  "I might as well surrender then. I can't compete with that," Emily said. She gazed at Justin lovingly, grabbed his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I think it's time for me to visit with friends. I'll meet up with you a little later."

  Emily turned to Anna.

  "You take good care of him now. Will you do that?"

  Anna beamed, nodded, and blushed in one spasm of emotion.

  Emily smiled and waved.

  "Bye, y'all!"

  Justin laughed as the woman he loved walked around the twirling mass of dancing couples and made her way for points unknown. When she disappeared from sight, he looked down at the mini Emily who looked up at him like he was a lottery prize.

  "Do you know how to dance, Anna?"

  "I think so."

  "I was hoping you'd say that," Justin said.

  "You were?" Anna asked.

  Justin nodded.

  "I was."

  "Why?"

  "Why?" Justin asked. "I'll tell you why."

  He smiled warmly and grabbed both of Anna's hands.

  "I was c
ounting on my number-one girl to give me a lesson."

  CHAPTER 43: CHUCK

  Tuesday, June 26, 1900

  Standing in the kitchen of his rustic beachfront property, Charles Townsend lifted a copper kettle from the top of a coal stove, poured coffee into two porcelain cups, and then watched his son replace a board in the wall behind the bunk bed.

  "What are you doing?" Chuck asked.

  "I'm just checking my hidey-hole," Justin said.

  "You know, son, we can always put the crystal in a safe-deposit box."

  "No, thanks. I don't trust any authority figures in this town – not even bankers."

  "I don't either, to be perfectly honest," Chuck said.

  When Justin finished his business and returned to the dining table, Chuck picked up the cups and joined him. He handed one of the cups to Justin and sat down. He laughed when his son took a sip of the brew and grimaced.

  "It's not exactly French roast, is it?" Chuck asked.

  Justin stared at his father.

  "It's not exactly coffee."

  Chuck laughed again.

  "I'll buy you a better cup in town, if you want one," Chuck said. "I just wanted to make sure you were awake when I told you what I'm going to do."

  "What's that?" Justin asked.

  "I'm going to ask Charlotte to marry me."

  Justin spit out the coffee that wasn't coffee.

  "You're going to what?"

  "You heard me," Chuck said. "I'm going to ask her to be my wife. I don't know when or how, but I'm going to do it sometime in the next three weeks."

  "Just like that?"

  "Just like that."

  "That's a big decision, Dad – a really big decision, one that affects me. Shouldn't you at least see what I think before you start popping any questions?"

  "That's what I'm doing now," Chuck said.

  "You're not though. You just said you've already decided to propose. What if I don't agree to your plans? What if I don't want to stay here?"

  "I'm not asking you to stay in Galveston, Justin. I'm not asking you to stay in 1900. I would never do that to you. Whatever we do, we'll do together."