Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4)

by John A. Heldt

"How about you?" Mary Beth asked. "Are you affiliated with the university? Are you a student or a professor?"

  Joshua shook his head.

  "I'm afraid I'm none of the above. I'm an attorney."

  "There's nothing wrong with that," Mary Beth said. "You don't have to be a student or a professor to have an interest in time travel. I assume that's why you're here."

  "It is," Joshua said. "I came here to see Professor Ballinger speak because I wanted to learn as much as I could about the subject. I have sort of a personal interest in it."

  "Oh?"

  Joshua nodded.

  "My grandfather believed in time travel. He wrote about it extensively in a diary and in private letters to his brother and his wife. He wrote about time tunnels and portals and many other things that make no sense to me."

  Mark looked at Mary Beth and saw uncertainty in her eyes. He could see that she had made the same connection and did not know how to proceed.

  "Tell me about your grandfather," Mark said. "Did you know him well?"

  "I didn't know him at all," Joshua said. "He died when my father was a child. I know only that he was a professor at this university and once lived in a mansion in West Adams."

  "Have you shown his papers to others?" Mary Beth asked.

  "Oh, no. People might think me mad if I did that. It's one thing to peddle time travel as science fiction. It's another to suggest, even through old letters, that it has already been done."

  Mark took a breath.

  "So what do you plan to do with your grandfather's writings?"

  "I plan to keep them," Joshua said. "I plan to keep them to myself, learn what I can about this strange and mysterious subject, and perhaps decide on a course at a later time."

  "I think that's a wise decision," Mark said.

  Joshua looked at Mary Beth.

  "What about you? Do you think that's a wise decision?"

  Mary Beth smiled.

  "I do, Mr. Bell. I think the best way to preserve your grandfather's legacy and reputation is to protect his papers and proceed slowly."

  "That's what I think too," Julia said.

  Mary Beth laughed.

  "Then there you have it."

  "I suppose you're right," Joshua said.

  "I know I am."

  Joshua smiled and sighed.

  "I'm sorry to take up your time. You've both been very helpful."

  Joshua shook two hands and then guided his wife forward. He disappeared with her through a nearby exit a moment later.

  Mark looked at Mary Beth and saw the traces of a grin.

  "What are you thinking?"

  Mary Beth chuckled.

  "I'm thinking that Percival Bell was quite a man."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean he mastered something that experts deny is real. He left behind papers and mysteries his own family can't decipher," Mary Beth said. She smiled. "He also brought four strangers together, including two standing right here. That's the best thing of all."

  Mark couldn't deny that.

  Percival Bell had started a story that was still being written. He had laid the groundwork for fantastic possibilities. He had made it possible for two lonely souls to find each other and their siblings to find common ground. He had changed lives.

  Mark smiled at Mary Beth, took her hand, and led her to the exit. As he did, he left the lecture hall, time travel, and Percival Bell behind. He did not care about the possibilities of tunnels and portals. He did not care about letters. He cared only about the person at his side.

  CHAPTER 32: BEN

  Pasadena, California – Saturday, April 11, 1959

  The journey from the front seats to the back was seamless and swift. Two people locked in a passionate embrace slid into the larger, softer, more comfortable part of a covered 1959 Ford Thunderbird convertible like honeymooners transitioning from a doorway to a bed.

  For the next forty minutes, Ben Ryan and Piper McIntire kissed, wrestled, and explored with reckless abandon as dozens of their Midway High School peers did the same. Most had come to the Rose City Drive-In to experience exhilarating freedom and escape the prying eyes of their parents. Few had come to see Up Periscope or Rally Round the Flag, Boys!

  Ben and Piper had pushed the boundaries of passion three times since concluding that Ben was not boring. They had put aside doubts, fears, and the realities of time travel and simply enjoyed each other like two people on the cusp of adulthood.

  Ben shifted his weight from his right to his left as he tried to get comfortable on a bench seat designed to accommodate vertical and not horizontal passengers. He succeeded only in pinching the side of a young woman pinned between his six-foot frame and an uneven seat.

  "Ouch!" Piper said.

  "Did I hurt you?" Ben asked.

  Piper nodded and then scolded him with a smile.

  "You broke my rib and probably a few other things."

  Ben chuckled.

  "I won't ask."

  "Don't," Piper said.

  "I'll try to be more careful."

  "Do."

  Ben smiled and then dropped his head to kiss the sassy brunette in the white blouse and the rumpled blue skirt. He had smiled a lot since joining Piper in the back seat. He had found her petulance and sense of humor as intoxicating as her pert nose and deep blue eyes.

  He brushed back her hair, kissed her soft lips again, and tried to get comfortable when he heard someone pound repeatedly on the foggy driver's side window. Slowly, reluctantly, and with some irritation, he sat up, reached for the handle, and rolled down the window. He needed only a second to identify the awful people who had interrupted a beautiful moment.

  "Hello," Sally Warner said. She stepped in front of Wayne Bridges, stuck her head through the open window, and grinned. "We're just checking to make sure everything is OK."

  Ben stared at Sally.

  "Everything is OK."

  "That's good. We heard that some lecherous seniors were in the area and wanted to make sure that none had troubled my good friend," Sally said. She glanced at Piper and widened her grin. "Has anyone troubled my good friend?"

  Piper sat up, looked at Sally, and raised a brow.

  "You mean in the last thirty seconds?"

  Sally laughed.

  "Yes!"

  "Then I can safely say that someone has," Piper said.

  "I'm sorry if we interrupted anything," Sally said. She smiled. "We just couldn't pass up the opportunity to say hello and tell you that we were going to the concession stand."

  "I'm so glad you did," Piper said.

  Ben looked at Wayne and saw him shrug. He didn't have to guess who was behind the couple's decidedly untimely visit.

  "Can we get you anything?" Sally asked.

  "Yes," Piper said. "Get me some privacy. It's on the candy shelf."

  Sally grinned.

  "I'll look for it. I hear it's hard to find, but I'll look for it."

  Piper laughed.

  "You do that."

  "I will," Sally said. She waved. "Toodle-oo, you two."

  Ben rolled up the window as Sally and Wayne left the scene and walked toward a gray cinder-block building about fifty yards away. A moment later, he returned to his seat, his date, and a situation that had once seemed so promising. He smiled at the lovely disheveled woman at his side.

  "You and Sally have at least one thing in common," Ben said.

  "What's that?" Piper asked.

  "You're impetuous."

  Piper offered a seductive grin.

  "There's nothing wrong with that."

  Ben pondered the comment for a moment and then turned his attention to a speaker that hung from the top of the passenger's side window. James Garner, playing U.S. Navy Lieutenant Kenneth Braden in Up Periscope, barked an order to a subordinate.

  "Do you want to listen to the movie?" Ben asked.

  Piper laughed.

  "We haven't yet. Why start now?"

  Ben chuckled and shook his head. He wondered
if it were even possible to tire of her wit. He moved toward the passenger door, rolled down the window about a third of the way, and pushed the bulky gray speaker out of the car. He looked back at Piper.

  "Do you want some music?"

  Piper nodded.

  Ben rolled up the window, leaned toward the dash, and turned on the radio. He punched a few buttons and fiddled with a knob until he settled on an AM station playing "The Book of Love," a recent top-five hit by a doo-wop group called the Monotones.

  "Is this better?" Ben asked.

  "It's much better," Piper said.

  Ben returned to the back seat, put his hands around Piper's face, and gently kissed her lips. A moment later, he kissed her a second time, brushed back her hair, and met her gaze.

  "I'm nuts about you."

  "Are you nuts about me or just nuts?" Piper asked.

  Ben smiled.

  "Both."

  Piper giggled.

  Ben took a deep breath, kissed her again, and then lowered her onto a back seat that had lost none of its warmth. This, he thought, was heaven.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Ben and Piper made heaven a little warmer. They twisted and turned on the narrow seat, changed places as frequently as the songs on the radio, and explored each other's mouths and bodies until they approached the point of no return.

  Ben unbuttoned Piper's ruffled blouse, unhooked her bra, and moved his hands in places they didn't belong. He moved freely and recklessly for several more minutes until Piper stiffened a bit and offered resistance for the first time.

  "Maybe we should slow down," Piper said.

  "I don't know if I can," Ben said.

  Piper sighed.

  "You can."

  The two continued grappling on the seat. They continued eagerly and enthusiastically until Piper again took a breath and tapped the brakes.

  "Ben?"

  "Don't you want to?"

  "I want to," Piper said in a whisper.

  "Then let's—"

  "Not here, Ben. Not now."

  "Come on."

  "No, Ben. Not now."

  "Come on, Vick."

  Piper shot up from the seat.

  "What did you say?"

  "What?" Ben asked.

  "You just called me Vick."

  Ben sat up and looked at Piper with bewildered eyes. He could see he had stepped in it even before she refastened her bra and started buttoning her blouse.

  "I didn't call you anything."

  "Yes, you did."

  "Piper, don't—"

  "Don't what, Ben? Don't stop? Be more like Vicki Cole?"

  "That's not what I meant."

  "Then what did you mean?" Piper asked.

  "I don't know. Just calm down a minute."

  Piper glared at Ben.

  "I am calm. I'm so calm I'm going to calmly step out for some air."

  Piper pushed the driver's seat forward, reached for the door handle, and pulled. She pushed the door open, slid past the seat, and quickly moved out of the vehicle.

  "Piper?"

  "Stay put, Ben. Don't follow me."

  Piper slammed the door and walked to the back of the T-Bird. She paused for a moment, as if considering her options, and then marched toward a building that contained the concessions and the restrooms. The structure was the only indoor facility at the outdoor theater.

  Ben tucked his shirt in his slacks, tightened his belt, and slid toward a door that Piper had inconveniently locked. Angry, frustrated, and more than a little flustered, he unlocked the door, exited the vehicle, and ran to the open space between rows one and two. He glanced at the building just as an angry woman turned left and stepped through a door.

  "Piper!"

  Ben asked himself several questions as he walked toward the building. Why had he felt the need to push things? Why had he opened his mouth? Why had Piper not given him a chance to explain or apologize or even talk? Had he somehow botched things for good?

  He did not know. He knew only that he had to catch Piper and at least try to make amends before a wonderful evening turned into a disaster.

  Several peers called out as Ben strode toward the building. Some offered condolences. Two offered a beer. At least one jeered and laughed. All seemed to take great interest in watching a big man on campus struggle with a conspicuous setback and potential humiliation.

  Ben reached the building a few seconds later. He stepped inside, scanned about forty faces in the dining area, and zeroed in on a group by the far wall. He walked briskly toward Wayne, Sally, Piper, and several other members of the Class of '59.

  "Don't come near me," Piper said as Ben approached. "I've had enough for tonight."

  "Look," Ben said. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

  "It doesn't matter. I want to go home."

  "Then let me take you home."

  "No. I'm going with Wayne and Sally."

  Ben looked at Wayne and saw indecision. Then he looked at Sally and saw judgment. He knew in two glances he would not win this battle publicly.

  "Can we at least talk before you go?" Ben asked.

  "No," Piper said. "I just want to leave."

  Ben looked again at the assembled masses and saw everything from sympathy to glee. He wondered what he had done to deserve any of the judgment. Then he glanced at the faces of a few former girlfriends and answered his own question.

  He stared at Piper and tried to find meaning in her suddenly hostile eyes. He could not believe the evening had deteriorated so rapidly.

  "Please, Piper. Let's just talk."

  "No, Ben. We're done talking."

  Ben started to offer one last plea but stopped when he saw a familiar blonde approach from the side. He knew what she was going to say even before she opened her mouth.

  "What seems to be the problem?" Vicki Cole asked.

  "It's nothing," Ben said.

  "It doesn't look like nothing."

  Ben turned his head.

  "Can we talk about this later, Vicki?"

  "We can. Or we can talk about it now."

  Ben returned to Piper.

  "Let's just go for a walk. That's all I'm asking."

  Piper stiffened.

  "I don't want to walk. I don't want to talk. I just want to go."

  Ben huffed.

  "Then go. Leave. Run off. Just don't come knocking on my door again."

  Piper stared at him with sad eyes.

  "I won't."

  Ben turned to Vicki and grabbed her hand.

  "Let's go."

  Vicki did not reply. She just held on to Ben's hand, gave Piper an I-told-you-so grin, and followed her old boyfriend out the door before forty jaws could drop.

  CHAPTER 33: MARY BETH

  South Pasadena, California – Sunday, April 12, 1959

  Mary Beth counted the socks and shook her head. She had put five pairs in the dryer at nine o'clock and pulled out two at ten. Someone in need of footwear had helped herself to plenty in the laundry room of the Chaparral Motel.

  She folded her remaining laundry on a table, loaded it into a basket, and then carried it through a door, down a narrow hallway, and up some steps. As she ascended the stairs and worked her way toward Room 212, she pondered the coming week, her feelings toward Mark, and her brief but unsettling encounter with her sister Saturday night.

  Piper had come home at ten, crawled into bed, and quietly cried herself to sleep. She did not explain her early return from her date with Ben or the reason for her unhappiness. She said only that she wanted to sleep and would say more the next day.

  Mary Beth did not anticipate a morning discussion. She had found Piper's bed made and unoccupied when she had risen at eight. She assumed her sister had gone for a morning walk.

  Mary Beth reached Room 212 a minute later, lowered her basket to the floor, and pulled out her key. She listened for signs of Piper's presence as she put the key in the door and turned the knob, but she heard nothing new. No television. No radio. No anything.
>
  She pushed the door open, peeked inside the dimly lit room, and frowned when she saw closed drapes and two unoccupied beds. Piper, she concluded, was still out and about.

  Mary Beth returned to the empty hallway, picked up the basket with both hands, and laughed when she looked at the laundry. Who would steal six socks and leave four? Who would spare her newest pairs? She wondered if the thoughtful thief was still in the building.

  Mary Beth turned around, walked through the door, and pondered where to put the basket. She didn't ponder for long. She knew the second the door closed and someone grabbed her from behind that she had far more pressing matters to consider.

  "Don't scream," a man said.

  Mary Beth froze.

  "I won't. Please don't hurt me."

  The man chuckled as he brought a knife to her neck.

  "I'll do my best. I would hate to cut such a lovely throat."

  Mary Beth closed her eyes when the man tightened his hold on her and nudged her to the middle of the room. She opened them when he lowered the knife.

  "What do you want?" Mary Beth asked.

  The man spoke into her ear.

  "I think you know what I want."

  "Do you want money? I can give you money."

  "I don't want your money. I want something far more valuable."

  "What?" Mary Beth asked. "What do you want?"

  "I want the book. I want the special book you used to make a special bet."

  Mary Beth felt her stomach drop.

  "I don't have it here. I put it in a safe deposit box."

  The man sneered.

  "I don't believe you."

  "Just give me a day," Mary Beth said. "I can get it tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow is too late."

  "No. It's not. I can get it. Please don't—"

  Mary Beth stopped when she heard someone stick a key in the door and panicked when that someone turned the knob and opened the door. She turned around and screamed when she saw Piper stand in the doorway with her mouth agape and her eyes open wide.

  "Run, Piper! Run!"

  Piper did not run. She did not hide. She instead entered the room and joined the fight. She charged the assailant with the fury of a linebacker pursing a quarterback.

  The man released Mary Beth, pushed her aside, and then turned to face the new threat. He stepped toward Piper and raised his knife. Mary Beth screamed when he brought it down.