September Sky (American Journey Book 1)

by John A. Heldt

  "Hiss?" Justin asked. He laughed. "You're killing me."

  "Well, what would he do?"

  "I don't know. But he sure as hell wouldn't hiss."

  Justin laughed again and held his sides.

  Emily pointed her nose in the air and huffed.

  "I don't think I like you."

  Justin smiled and slowly moved forward. When he reached the babe in the bloomers that only a nostalgic time traveler could love, he put his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

  "I know you don't like me. But that's OK," Justin said. He lifted his hands and gently pushed Emily's wet, curly hair away from her face. "It's OK because I know that you love me."

  He kissed her tenderly.

  "I guess growling crocodiles aren't so bad, after all," Emily said.

  Justin grinned.

  "We're not once you get to know us."

  "Luckily for you, I'm a patient sort."

  Justin returned his arms to Emily's waist, kissed her again, and took a long look at the woman who occupied his thoughts from dawn to dusk. He saw a person who represented everything he had ever wanted in a mate. Then he looked at her swimsuit again and started to laugh.

  "What's so funny?" Emily asked.

  "It's your bathing suit," Justin said. "I guess I'm still getting used to it."

  "What's wrong with it?"

  "There's nothing wrong with it. It's just – I don't know – different."

  "Most women wear suits like mine," Emily said defensively.

  "I know."

  "Don't women in California wear suits like this?"

  "No," Justin said. "They go for the minimalist look."

  "You mean they don't wear much at all."

  Justin smiled.

  "That's one way of putting it."

  Emily frowned.

  "I must admit I envy you. Men can wear anything."

  She tugged at the top of her suit.

  "This outfit is not ideal for swimming," Emily said. "In fact, it's downright restrictive."

  Justin grinned.

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Beck. Perhaps I should free you from your burden."

  Emily gazed at him with eyes that revealed both excitement and fear.

  "Perhaps you should."

  Justin didn't need another hint. He pulled Emily close, kissed her gently, and waited to see if she meant what she had said. When she threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, he concluded that she did. He kissed her again, much harder, and started what would surely be a long, fumbling, exhilarating journey toward satisfaction.

  Moving in tight circles, like dancers on the floor of the Garten Verein, the two slowly made their way from chest-high water to waist-high water, never giving their eager hands and mouths a rest. When a high wave sent them toppling, they simply picked themselves up and started again.

  Justin didn't know much about Victorian swimsuits, but he did know one thing about Emily's. It had buttons. When he had a chance to reach for one, he unfastened it and then quickly went for another. By the time the amorous couple reached the beach, he had unfastened every single one.

  "I love you, Emily."

  "I love you too," she replied breathlessly.

  When the clumsy lovers stumbled again and fell to the sand, Justin again went to work on her top, which stuck to her wet body like a second skin. He began to slide it up and over her shoulders when she gently grabbed his hands and arrested his progress.

  "Not here," Emily said. "We'd be horsewhipped."

  Emily got off the ground, straightened her top, and waited for Justin to get to his feet. When he stood up and brushed the sand from his shorts, she stepped forward, put her hands on his face, and found his mouth again.

  "I can think of a better place," Emily said. "Follow me."

  Emily grabbed Justin's hand and led him from the beach to the unlighted street to the gate of the house at Tenth and M. She stopped, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him with the energy and passion of a woman possessed.

  "This is crazy," Justin said.

  "Yes, it is," Emily said. "Come on."

  She took his hand and pulled him past the gate, through the front door, and into the dark mansion. When they reached the base of the stairs, she repeated her familiar greeting.

  Justin caught his breath and took another look at his girl-gone-wild. Even with matted hair and sand-caked clothes, she looked like a dream. He needed only a second in the moonlit hallway to see her wide grin and know that the end was near. When she embraced him again and led him up the stairs, he followed with eagerness and anticipation.

  After another minute of kisses, stumbles, and breathless exploration, the impatient pair reached a bedroom that overlooked Tenth. Large and lavishly furnished, the room contained a four-poster bed, a massive vanity, and two upholstered chairs that appeared ready for royalty.

  "This is my room," Emily said. She beamed. "I hope you like it."

  "What if I don't?"

  "Then I'll kick you out."

  Justin chuckled.

  "No, you won't."

  Emily laughed.

  "You're right. I won't."

  Justin sighed and put his hands on her face.

  "Are you sure about this, Emily?"

  She nodded.

  "I'm sure."

  Justin leaned forward and found her waiting mouth one last time.

  "I love you …"

  "No more talk, Justin. We can do that tomorrow."

  Emily grabbed both of his hands.

  "Right now I want to do something else."

  She smiled sweetly.

  "I want to make some music."

  CHAPTER 57: CHUCK

  Thursday, August 16, 1900

  Chuck had to hand it to his wife. When given the opportunity to opt out of a weekly tradition, she did just the opposite. She made sure that the last breakfast for the staff of the Texas Maritime Library was one to remember.

  Sitting at a newly refinished dining table, Chuck gazed at a feast fit for a king – or at least three men, four women, and a girl who could put away pancakes like a lumberjack. He laughed when he saw Anna Beck build a stack of pancakes that resembled a multi-level parking structure.

  "It appears that someone at this table likes pancakes," Chuck said.

  The adults laughed. Anna blushed and wiggled in her chair.

  "That's all right, Anna. I do too. Pancakes are good for you. They give you more energy."

  The girl beamed.

  "An eight-year-old doesn't need more energy, Mr. Townsend," Rose said. "Those of us with expanding waistlines and creaky joints do."

  Chuck laughed.

  "Point taken, Miss O'Malley. Point taken."

  "I hope everyone is enjoying the meal," Charlotte said. "It's a shame we won't be able to do this again. Perhaps Goldie or Emily can keep the tradition alive."

  "That would require the ability to cook," Goldie said. "Emily, I'm certain, would do just fine. I'm afraid I would turn away more people than I'd attract."

  "Don't sell yourself short, Goldie. I'm sure you'd do just as well as me."

  Chuck didn't know about that. He didn't think there was a woman in the city who could cook as well as Charlotte, but then there probably wasn't a woman in the city who could do a lot of things as well. If there was one thing he liked about his wife, it was that she did practically everything with passion and style.

  Chuck looked around the table and noticed that most of the diners seemed to be in a better mood than the last time they had gathered in one room. He concluded that that was a good thing, given the challenges that some of them faced.

  Wyatt and Rose appeared happier and mellower. Chuck didn't need to guess why. As people who had been in and out of fleeting relationships for most of their adult lives, they no doubt looked forward to settling down and enjoying the fruits of marriage.

  Charlotte, too, seemed more at peace with herself. In the past few days, she had spoken less about the past and more a
bout the future. Chuck had no doubt that her transition to modern life would be successful, if not seamless.

  Even Charlotte's demeanor, however, had not changed as much as Emily's. The young woman with the long black hair had gone from somber to sunny in the span of a weekend. Chuck suspected the obvious, which gave him both comfort and concern.

  Justin was the hardest to read. Though he smiled a lot and conversed with nearly everyone at the table, he appeared slightly disengaged. He had said little about his relationship with Emily or what he planned to do with her when he returned to Los Angeles.

  Only Goldie seemed unchanged. She was as quiet, reserved, and emotionless as she had been on every other occasion Chuck had seen her. When Chuck saw her keep to herself as the others talked and laughed, he brought her into the larger conversation.

  "Is it true, Goldie, that you'll be the library's interim director?"

  Goldie turned to face Chuck.

  "It's true. The board has asked me to serve in that capacity through November."

  "Are you looking forward to the challenge?" Chuck asked.

  "Not really."

  "Is that so?"

  "That's so," Goldie said. "I've seen the amount of work that is involved. I've seen Charlotte fight a hundred battles on a hundred fronts. I can only hope that I'm up to the task."

  "You'll do fine," Charlotte said. "If there is one person who can bring all of those volunteers into line, it's you. I know you'll do well."

  "Are you planning to take some time off before Charlotte and Rose leave?" Chuck asked.

  "I am," Goldie said. "I'm taking off the rest of August."

  "Are you traveling anywhere?"

  Goldie nodded.

  "I'm going to San Antonio to spend a couple of weeks with my sister and her family. I leave on the early train tomorrow."

  "That's great," Chuck said. "You deserve a vacation."

  Chuck glanced at Emily.

  "How about you, young lady? Do you plan to take some time off?"

  Emily gazed at Justin for a moment before turning to face Chuck.

  "No. I want to spend as much time as I can here – in Galveston – with you, your son, and Charlotte before you leave for California. I can take a vacation later, if I need one."

  "Have you considered taking that scholarship and going back to Vassar?"

  "I have. I've notified the dean that I will return to school next month unless my situation here changes," Emily said. She glanced at Justin again. "I want to keep all of my options open before deciding on a course."

  Chuck felt both happy and sad. He was happy that Emily still thought enough of Justin to consider a future with him but was sad that that future would probably never happen. He knew that Justin had not come clean about his past and knew that the time to do so was growing short.

  "I think that's smart," Chuck said. "I wish you the best no matter what you do."

  "Thank you," Emily said. She took a sip of coffee. "Have you finalized your own plans?"

  "We have, Emily, or at least I think we have."

  Emily stared at Justin and raised an eyebrow. When she got the indifferent reaction that she probably didn't expect, she returned her attention to Chuck.

  "Please share, Mr. Townsend. I don't think I've heard this."

  Chuck saw the minefield ahead and decided to choose his words carefully.

  "The first thing we've decided is that we won't travel alone. Wyatt and Rose will join Charlotte, Justin, and me on the trip to Los Angeles. They intend to spend their honeymoon getting us settled into our new home in Southern California."

  Chuck took a quick inventory of the reactions at the table and saw some hits and misses. Wyatt, Rose, and Charlotte beamed. Justin and Emily frowned. Goldie forced a smile.

  "I see," Emily said. "Have you decided when you'll leave?"

  "We have," Chuck said. "We'll remain in Galveston through Labor Day and maybe the day after that, but not any longer. By the fifth of September, we expect to be on the Sunset Limited. By the eighth, we expect to be home."

  CHAPTER 58: WYATT

  Saturday, August 18, 1900

  "So tell me about this time-travel business," Rose said.

  Wyatt lifted his head from Rose's uncovered bosom and laughed to himself. She never failed to pick the best time to have a thoughtful conversation. He sat up and looked at the woman who wanted to discuss science fiction – a woman tied to four bedposts.

  "What would you like to know, my dear?"

  "I'd like to know everything," Rose said. "Chuck gave me the condensed version yesterday. I want the one with all the juicy details."

  "I don't have all the 'juicy details,' darling. I'm not certain I know more than you do. I know only that I believe the man."

  "You believe everything?" Rose asked. "Even the part about you murdering someone?"

  Wyatt paused before answering. He wasn't as sure about that as he was that the Townsends had come from the future, but he was sure enough to take precautions. He hadn't carried a gun once since Charles had advised him not to.

  "Yes. I believe him. I believe that when 1900 played out the first time that all of these things actually happened. I also believe that, this time, 1900 may play out differently. Charles, in fact, thinks it already has."

  Rose smiled.

  "You have me thinking, Wyatt. That's always a dangerous thing."

  "It's never a dangerous thing, my love. Your mind is a beautiful thing."

  Rose shook her head.

  "Next thing you'll tell me is that's the part of me you admire the most."

  Wyatt smiled.

  "You know I wouldn't lie, Rose. You know I wouldn't lie."

  Rose laughed. A moment later, she looked at her fiancé thoughtfully.

  "Wyatt?"

  "Yes, dear?"

  "What do you think the future is like?"

  "I think it's far less interesting than the woman in my bed."

  "I'm serious," Rose said.

  Wyatt kissed Rose and got out of the bed. He grabbed a robe that was draped on the back of a chair, put it on, and walked to a window that overlooked Mechanic Street. He opened the window and looked out of it just in time to see a police officer get off of his horse, tie it to a post, and walk into a bakery.

  "I think the future is different from this time – very different," Wyatt said. He turned to face Rose. "I believe we would recognize few things if we ever saw it."

  "That's kind of what I'm getting at."

  "What do you mean?"

  "What I mean, my dear beloved, is that Charles didn't specifically say we couldn't come along for a little look-see," Rose said. "He did say we were more than welcome to go wherever he and Charlotte and Justin went. I have to believe that includes the future."

  "It may."

  "You don't sound very enthusiastic. Don't you want to see Chuck's crazy little world? I want to see it based solely on the pictures I saw in that amazing gadget of his. I want to ride in one of those sleek automobiles and fly in an airplane – or whatever he called it."

  Wyatt sat on the foot of the bed.

  "It would be interesting," Wyatt said.

  "It would be more than interesting. It would be more fun than watching two fat ladies wrestle at the circus. I can't imagine a better way to spend our honeymoon," Rose said. She smiled and batted her lashes. "Can you?"

  Wyatt laughed.

  "I guess not."

  "Will you talk to him then? Will you ask Charles if it's all right if we come along?"

  "Are you sure that's what you want?"

  "Yes, Wyatt, that's what I want. I figure that before I birth your six little ragamuffins I should at least see a different world – or the same one in a different time. I think it would be exciting," Rose said. She raised a brow. "We might even get some ideas on how to enjoy ourselves more back here."

  Wyatt chuckled.

  "That's all the incentive I need to ask our friend about extending our vacation."

  Wyatt walked around the
bed and reclaimed his old place. He admired the beauty of the feminine form at his side and then placed a hand on Rose's smiling face.

  "I noticed that the bakery across the street just opened. Would you care to join me for coffee and a pastry?"

  Rose shook her head.

  "You go ahead. You can bring me back a jelly roll."

  "Are you sure you don't want to go?"

  "I'm sure," Rose said. "Besides, as you can plainly see, I'm underdressed and a little tied up."

  Wyatt smiled.

  "I can free you of at least some of your burdens, if you'd like."

  "No. Just leave me as I am. I want to think about the shackles of married life before you drag me off to the land of blissful domesticity."

  Wyatt laughed.

  "Very well, my love. I won't be long."

  Wyatt quickly donned his tailored suit, grabbed his hat, and went to the door of his large but modestly furnished hotel room. When he exited the quarters, he shut the door, stepped into the hallway, and greeted a cleaning girl who appeared ready to enter the adjacent room.

  As he proceeded down the long carpeted hallway and started down the stairs, he thought about how his life was about to change. He knew that he and Rose would eventually stop meeting at the Stratford Hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Smith. He knew they would embrace most, if not all, of the trappings of domestic life.

  That was OK too. That's what couples did when they traded one set of priorities for another and headed down a different path. Wyatt felt fortunate that he had the opportunity to head down that path with someone he loved and respected.

  When he reached the hotel lobby, he walked to the front desk and asked the clerk if the morning paper had arrived. When the clerk told him it had, Wyatt paid for a copy, tucked it under his arm, and headed for the front door.

  He reached the sidewalk just as a bright sun poked through a bank of clouds. He could see, even at eight fifteen, that it was going to be a good day.

  Wyatt waited for two carriages to pass before crossing the street. When he reached the front of the bakery, he stopped and took a moment to enjoy the smell of the best pastries in the city.

  He stepped forward, put a hand on the door, and pulled it open. He started to walk through but stopped and stepped back to allow two bakery customers to leave.