September Sky (American Journey Book 1) (4 page)

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, he 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.

Justin knew he didn't have to move – at least not right away. As a lifeguard at a local pool, he had the means to stay where he was through the end of May. What he didn't have was the desire.

He wanted to make a clean break with the past and knew he could do so by withdrawing from college, leaving Los Angeles, and following his new-and-improved dad to the Bay Area. When an opportunity arose to get out of his apartment lease on April 30, he jumped on it.

"I found it!" Chuck said as he pulled a cell phone from underneath a pile of clothes. "I was right though. The battery is dead."

"It's no big deal. You can use my phone if you need to make a call," Justin said. "Have you figured out what we're going to do when we get up north?"

"I have. We're going to find jobs. In fact, I may already have one. When you went to visit your advisor, I emailed a former colleague who was just named managing editor of the
Blaze
. That's a suburban daily based in Marin County. I wrote that I needed a job. He replied that he needed a general assignment reporter. He wants to visit in person a week from Friday, but I think the job is mine for the asking."

"That's great. Does your friend need a mixed up biology major?"

"No. But a new aquatics center in San Francisco needs a dozen lifeguards. I have no doubt that it would snap you up if you applied."

"Sounds like you had a busy morning."

"I did. I decided when we got off the ship that I didn't want to waste another day moping about my problems. So I went online and looked for solutions," Chuck said. He stopped loading books in a box and stared at his son. "I want this arrangement to work, Justin, and I know it won't unless each of us has something productive to do."

"Thanks," Justin said. "Thanks for looking out for me."

"You're welcome."

"Thanks for the other stuff too. Thanks for being a dad this past week. It's been nice having someone to talk to."

Chuck sighed and nodded.

"I feel the same way. Now let's get your things packed and get out of here. What do you want me to do next?"

Justin scanned the room and pointed to several framed pictures that sat atop a small table. They included everything from family portraits to photographs of his baseball teams.

"Why don't you pack those pictures? You can put them in that box by the door."

"Will do," Chuck said.

Justin watched his father start on the photos and then turned his attention to the stuff he should have donated to friends. Who hauled around things like spatulas and dollar-store dishes? He ultimately decided that
he
did – at least this time – and got off the couch.

Justin didn't make it five feet toward the kitchenware before he glanced back at his dad and saw something that made him stop. Chuck had picked up a portrait of Megan Townsend.

For several seconds, Chuck studied the photograph like it was a priceless artifact – an artifact he knew intimately through years of research but had never actually held in his hands. He ran his fingertip across the picture's protective glass, took a deep breath, and turned away.

"Do you miss her?" Justin asked.

"Of course I miss her."

Justin zeroed in on his father and waited for Chuck to meet his gaze. When he did, he continued a conversation he had wanted to have on the cruise.

"Then why didn't you do more to win her back? She loved you, Dad. That's why she never remarried. She didn't want to settle for the sake of me or anyone else."

"She told you that?"

Justin nodded.

"She told me that several times."

Chuck placed the photo of Megan in a box and looked away again. He stared blankly out an open window at the outside world and perhaps a place that only he could see.

"Your mother was the first woman I fell in love with – and the last," Chuck said. "I cried the day she left. I cried because I knew what I was losing and because I knew I would never change. I failed her, just like I failed you."

Justin paused for a moment to consider the words. He had never heard his dad talk about the day Megan Townsend had walked out of his life. Then again, he had never heard his dad talk about much of
anything
except politics, work, and baseball.

Justin walked across the room, placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder, and took a long look at the man who continued to stare out the window. Even in the subdued light of the late afternoon, he could see changes he had never noticed before.

When Justin looked at his father, he saw a man who had aged ten years in the last five – a man with hints of gray in his thick brown hair and wrinkles around his soft blue eyes. He saw not a distant and aloof reporter who cared only about his career but rather a man consumed by guilt and regret. He saw someone that, frankly, he didn't recognize.

"It's all right, Dad. We still have a future," Justin said. "Let's honor Mom's memory by making it a good one."

Chuck lifted his head, turned toward his son, and smiled sadly.

"I don't deserve you."

Justin chuckled.

"You probably don't, but you're stuck with me," Justin said. He patted Chuck's shoulder. "Let's finish up and get something to eat. There's a decent Thai place around the block."

"Sounds good to me."

Justin lifted his hand, turned around, and walked back toward the kitchenware. He glanced at a wall clock, noted the hands on the twelve and the four, and started to ask a question about the lifeguard openings when he heard his cell phone ring.

Justin picked up the phone. He didn't recognize the caller's number but answered anyway.

When the caller identified himself, Justin took a step back. He listened with great interest as the man explained the purpose of the call. To say Justin was both surprised and flattered was the understatement of the year.

"Yes, he's still in L.A. He's here with me now," Justin said. "We're cleaning out my apartment. We're planning to move to San Francisco tomorrow."

Justin listened to the caller as he continued his business. When Chuck inquired about the caller's identity, he pressed the mute button and lowered the phone.

"I'll tell you in a second," Justin said.

He returned to the caller.

"Do you want to talk to my dad?" Justin asked.

The caller declined.

"Are you sure?"

The caller said he was sure.

"OK."

Justin glanced at Chuck, shrugged his shoulders, and let the caller finish what he had to say. When asked to answer a question, he responded, "We can be there at nine."

The caller expressed his approval and offered a pleasantry. When the conversation ended, Justin placed his phone on top of a box, turned to face his father, and grinned.

"Who was that?" Chuck asked.

"That, Dad, was Professor Bell. He read the comment cards we filled out on the cruise. He likes what we wrote and wants to speak to us. He wants to see us in his office tomorrow."

CHAPTER 6: CHUCK

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

The first thing Chuck noticed was the professor's gallery of movie stills. More than a dozen photographs from time-travel flicks like
Back to the Future
,
Somewhere in Time
, and
Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure
occupied the lion's share of an otherwise unadorned wall in the small academic office. A few of the stills bore signatures.

Chuck laughed to himself as he tried to reconcile the images with a memorable part of the professor's lecture on the cruise. He gave Justin a knowing smile and then turned to the man who had asked to meet the Townsends at the rival university on the other side of Los Angeles.

"I thought you didn't care for Hollywood takes on time travel," Chuck said. "At least that's the impression I got on the ship."

"Then you got the wrong impression," Geoffrey Bell said as he sat at his desk. He took a sip of coffee and stared at Chuck, who sat next to Justin in front of the desk. "I find the motion-picture industry's portrayals of time travel to be imaginative and generally entertaining. What I don't find them to be is terribly realistic."

"Realistic? I gathered from your lecture that time travel was still the stuff of science fiction. Don't tell me I got that wrong too."

"As a matter of fact, you did," Bell said.

Chuck and Justin sat up in their chairs.

"You'll have to explain that, Professor."

"I will, Mr. Townsend. But before I do, let me explain why I contacted you."