September Sky (American Journey Book 1) (2 page)

Chapter 61: Emily

Chapter 62: Justin

Chapter 63: Chuck

Chapter 64: Chuck

Chapter 65: Chuck

Chapter 66: Justin

Chapter 67: Chuck

Chapter 68: Chuck

Chapter 69: Chuck

Chapter 70: Justin

Chapter 71: Emily

Chapter 72: Justin

Chapter 73: Chuck

Chapter 74: Emily

Chapter 75: Justin

Chapter 76: Justin

Chapter 77: Emily

Chapter 78: Justin

Chapter 79: Emily

Chapter 80: Chuck

Chapter 81: Justin

Chapter 82: Chuck

Chapter 83: Charlotte

Chapter 84: Chuck

Chapter 85: Chuck

Chapter 86: Chuck

Chapter 87: Chuck

Chapter 88: Chuck

Chapter 89: Justin

Chapter 90: Justin

Chapter 91: Chuck

Chapter 92: Chuck

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER 1: CHUCK

San Francisco, California – Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Charles Townsend lifted the small, framed photo from the corner of his desk and studied the boy with the bat. Justin had been eleven then, a young man just discovering the joys of baseball, teamwork, and competitive sports.

He noted his son's posture and concentration as he brought the aluminum bat around to meet a fastball. Even then, Justin had demonstrated the form that would serve him well through nine years of Little League and high-school ball.

Chuck knew that this particular swing had led to a home run – Justin's first – in the district finals. The ball had flown cleanly over the fence in deep centerfield and landed noisily in an empty metal garbage can two hundred fifty feet away.

He knew this because his wife – his now deceased
ex-wife
– had explained the home run in great detail. She had been there when Justin Townsend had hit the Shot Heard 'Round Mission Viejo – and he, predictably, had not. The life moment was just one of many he'd missed in more than sixteen years as a decidedly distant dad.

Chuck placed the photo next to other belongings in his Big Box of Regrets and then stared out his office window at the buildings and the bay beyond. He loved the view from the eighteenth floor of one of the city's oldest high-rises, but like so many things he loved about his job, it was one he would have to give up.

He turned away from the window and put more items into the box, including three awards for investigative reporting. He was particularly proud of the most recent honor, which he had earned as part of a team that had uncovered waste and fraud in several social services.

Chuck's hard-hitting series in the spring of 2015 had forced the resignation of three municipal officials and prompted calls for reform. It had raised awareness and pushed leaders in the right directions, but it had not provided him with job insurance in the digital age.

When the newspaper's publisher had decided in October to restructure his product as an online publication, he decided to do so with fifty fewer reporters and editors. In the end, even lavish praise and prestigious awards couldn't keep Chuck from the unemployment lines.

Chuck let the irony linger in his mind for a moment and then returned to the box. He started to put the lid on the container and what was left of his journalistic career when he heard a familiar voice from the side.

"It's so unfair."

Chuck swiveled in his chair and looked up at the friendliest face in the building. At twenty-three, Jamie Cantrell was the youngest and newest reporter on the staff but one the higher-ups had decided to retain. Working for peanuts had its privileges.

"Oh, hi, Jamie," Chuck said. "What's unfair?"

The wiry brunette, Olive Oyl's twin, stood in the doorway of the tiny office. She folded her arms and shook her head.

"This whole thing is unfair – the cuts, the reassignments, the layoffs, all of it," Jamie said. "If anyone should be packing a box, it should be me. I just started here. You've been here forever. You're the heart and soul of this place."

Chuck laughed.

"Didn't they teach you in journalism school that hearts and souls are expensive?"

Jamie looked at him thoughtfully.

"They taught me a lot of things, including the fact the world is a cruel and unjust place," she said. "I have no business being here now."

"Oh, yes, you do," Chuck said. "You're bright and talented and, most of all, adaptable. You're just what a twenty-first-century newspaper needs."

"If you say so."

"I say so."

Jamie smiled sadly and shook her head.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Thanks also for taking me under your wing and showing me how journalism works in practice. Not a lot of people would have done that."

"It was my pleasure. I only wish I could stick around and see you light the world on fire. You have a lot to offer this dying profession, Jamie. Don't squander it."

"I won't."

Chuck nodded.

"I know you won't."

"So what's next for you?" Jamie asked. "What are your plans?"

"Long-term or short-term?"

"Both."

Chuck fixed his gaze on Jamie.

"My long-term objective, of course, is to find another job – hopefully in the Bay Area and hopefully at a salary that will allow me to
remain
in the Bay Area."

"How about your immediate plans?" Jamie asked.

Chuck smiled and laughed.

"That's an easy one. I plan to drive to L.A. on Friday, meet up with my son after his last final, and then blow my severance on a cruise to Puerto Vallarta."

"Oh, how fun."

"I hope it'll be fun, but I'm not sure it will be," Chuck said.

"Why wouldn't it?" Jamie asked.

"Because I expect to spend most of my time trying to talk Justin out of dropping out of college."

"Isn't he the one who wants to be a doctor?"

"He's the one who
wanted
to be a doctor," Chuck said. "He called yesterday to tell me that he needed a break – a big one. My mission next week is to set him straight and convince him that two failures in the family are one too many."

CHAPTER 2: CHUCK

Los Angeles, California – Sunday, March 20, 2016

From a motorist's standpoint, the trip from Westwood to San Pedro was practically perfect. Chuck encountered no delays, Sig-Alerts, or traffic issues as he moved south on Interstate 405. The first part of the thirty-mile drive, the bane of many commuters, was surprisingly pleasant.

It was also frustratingly quiet. Despite Chuck's best efforts to get his usually talkative son to open up, he had come up short on this sunny Sunday.

Justin had mentioned things like "stress" on Friday night and "relationship fatigue" a few times on Saturday, but he hadn't offered much in the way of elaboration. He had decided to leave school, after the second quarter of his junior year, for reasons he kept to himself.

Chuck wasn't about to give up though. If twenty-three years as a reporter had taught him anything, it was that persistence paid off. So when he left the 405 and merged onto the 110, or Harbor Freeway, he turned again toward the person in the passenger seat of his Honda Civic.

"Is this about something I've said or done – or haven't done?" Chuck asked. "Because if it is, I'd understand."

Chuck looked for an answer but didn't find one. He instead found someone who clearly had no interest in a conversation, a young man who continued to stare blankly at the urban landscape.

The newsman returned his eyes to the road and berated himself for asking the question. Here he was again thinking about himself. He knew if Justin's decision to leave school
did
have anything to do with him, he'd never say so. The kid had too much class. He would never dump that much guilt on anyone, much less his father.

Chuck wondered how a boy with a hundred reasons to be bitter had turned out to be so pleasant. But he didn't wonder for long. He knew the answer. Justin had had a great mother, just as Charles Townsend had once had a great wife.

He took a moment to think about the life he'd had in the late nineties, when he'd tried to support a wife and a young son on a reporter's salary in Northern California. Chuck had long considered that time to be a low point in his life.

From an economic standpoint, it was rock bottom. For years the family struggled as Chuck went from job to job and town to town in search of something better.

From the perspective of two decades, however, Chuck could see that that time was a blessing in disguise. He'd had it all – or at least all that mattered. He'd had a kind, patient spouse and an amazing son who achieved something new and notable almost every day.

For a while, Megan put up with the downsides of that life. She never complained about the late hours or the tight budgets or the shoddy apartments with the running toilets. Indeed, she had once told Chuck that she had everything she needed. As the years passed, however, she realized that she didn't have the one thing she wanted most – a fully engaged husband and father.

When she began to measure their weekly time together in minutes rather than in hours, she realized it was time to go. So she left Chuck a note and her wedding ring on the twenty-fifth day of the new millennium and returned to her hometown of Mission Viejo with five-year-old Justin. She had asked for nothing but the freedom to raise their son in a more nurturing environment.