September Sky (American Journey Book 1) (24 page)

"You two aren't so bad yourselves," Justin said. He grinned. "Are bloomers in this year?"

Emily huffed.

"These are the finest bathing outfits in the city, sir."

Justin laughed.

"Don't get me wrong. You look gorgeous – a little overdressed, but gorgeous."

Emily put her hands on her hips.

"I don't know how women dress in California, but this is how we dress in Texas. I think you're saying that just to agitate me."

Justin nodded.

"It's the only way I can bring out your petulant side. I wasn't kidding when I said I liked it."

Emily sighed.

"Well, my 'petulant side,' as you put it, is on vacation. I intend to be pleasant and reasonable today, no matter how often you try to provoke me."

"You do that," Justin said. "I like your 'pleasant and reasonable' side too."

"That's comforting."

Justin waded into the warm water until it was waist-high and then turned his head in several directions, as if looking for something or someone. When he was done, he looked at Emily with puzzled eyes.

"Doesn't anyone actually swim around here?"

"What do you think we're doing?" Emily asked.

"We're standing in the water looking dashing," Justin said. "Swimming is moving your arms and your legs and actually going somewhere."

"We don't do that."

"Do you even
know
how to swim?"

Emily looked down.

"No."

"Then let me show you," Justin said.

Emily hesitated.

"I don't know."

"Come on. It will only take a minute."

Emily smiled warily.

"All right."

As Anna looked on with animated eyes, Emily waded into deeper water. She stopped when she reached the dashing man in the form-fitting prison stripes.

"Let's start with the elementary backstroke," Justin said.

"Why the backstroke?" Emily asked.

"I can think of three reasons. First, it's easy to learn. Second, it allows you to keep your face out of the water. And third, it will save your life if a current grabs you."

"Isn't that what the safety lines are for?"

Emily pointed to the chains that hung loosely from low posts.

"Those things won't save you in a rip," Justin said.

"What's a rip?"

Justin smiled.

"Let's start with the backstroke."

"OK," Emily said. "What do I need to do?"

"The first thing you need to do is trust me."

"Trust you?"

Justin nodded.

"I'm going to support you with my hands while you float on your back."

"You're going to 'support' me?" Emily asked.

"I won't touch you more than necessary, but I do need to support you while you learn how to float. Are you all right with that?"

Emily smiled. She could see that he was still as hesitant as ever to touch her. She had found it amusing, endearing, and seriously frustrating that he had not kissed her on the lips following their enjoyable and memorable date on the twenty-sixth.

She couldn't believe that any man would pass up that opportunity – an opportunity that this man, anyway, clearly deserved. Then again, Justin wasn't just
any
man. He was a charming mystery who had kept her awake many nights over the last four weeks.

"I'm all right with that," Emily said.

"OK then. Fall back slowly into my hands."

Emily gave Justin a playful glance and complied.

"That's good," Justin said. He smiled. "Now extend your arms and legs."

Emily did as instructed. She was more than a little nervous laying flat in churning water but not at all nervous laying flat in the arms of Mr. Know It All.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Townsend?"

Justin sighed.

"As a highly-trained professional, I'm forbidden to say, 'Yes, I'm enjoying myself.'"

"What about as a man who clearly likes me?" Emily asked.

Justin grinned.

"No. There are no restrictions on that."

Emily laughed.

"Stop moving, Miss Beck. You're disrupting this lesson."

Emily slowly regained her composure.

"Oh, all right. I'll be a good girl."

"You do that," Justin said.

Emily took a moment to glance at Anna and saw that her grin had not disappeared. She was enjoying the lesson as much as her big sister.

"OK. I'm ready."

"That's good," Justin said. "Now, the next thing I want you to do is …"

Emily froze when she saw a man shout at others to get out of his way. The man, a burly lifeguard in a tank top, carried a smaller man in his arms as he rushed frantically out of the water.

"Please move aside!" the lifeguard said. "Please make way!"

Justin followed the two men with his eyes and gently returned Emily to her feet.

"I'd better check this out," Justin said.

"Check out what?" Emily asked.

"I'll explain later. Stay with Anna."

Emily moved toward her sibling and watched with interest as Justin sprinted toward a growing crowd. She didn't know what he hoped to accomplish, but she figured it was important.

It wasn't long, however, before she realized that Justin's participation in the rescue might make a bad situation worse. When she took a closer look at the scene on the beach, she saw Justin drop to a knee, shake his head, and shout something at the lifeguard.

"Let's go, Anna."

Emily grabbed her sister's hand and led her toward the action. When they arrived a minute later, she could see that Justin and the lifeguard were mired in a serious argument.

"You're doing it all wrong," Justin said.

"Let me do my job, mister, or this man is doing to die," the lifeguard snapped.

"He's going to die if you do! Please. Let me at him. I know what I'm doing."

The lifeguard looked at the crowd that had gathered around, shook his head, and got up.

"All right. He's yours."

Emily tightened her hold on Anna's hand as she stood in the company of more than fifty bathers and formally dressed beachgoers. Like the others, she watched in awe as the blond-haired man in the dashing striped suit cleared the victim's mouth with two fingers, tilted his head back, and pinched his nostrils. She watched in horror as Justin placed his lips on the victim's and began to blow into his mouth.

"He's
kissing
him," Anna said as her eyes grew wide.

"Hush!" Emily said.

Justin seemed oblivious to the crowd around him. When he was done "kissing" the man, he put his hands on his chest and began pumping it in a rhythmic fashion. Not once did he look up and ask for help or even see if the lifeguard he had replaced was still around. He instead maintained his routine until the unconscious man spit up water and clutched his chest.

"Get back!" Justin said to those who had gathered too closely. "I need some space."

Justin continued to work on the victim until he started breathing normally. When the man tried to sit up, the unlikely hero supported him and made him comfortable. Five minutes later, the man was able to stand on his own, smile at the crowd, and embrace his hysterical wife, who had run halfway across the beach to smother him with hugs and kisses.

"Settle down, Bess. I'm quite all right," the thin mustachioed man said. He released his wife and grinned. "I'm feeling rather fit, actually, thanks to this fine gentleman."

The man turned to face Justin.

"I believe I owe you my thanks," he said. "My name is Sylvester Benton."

"I'm Justin Townsend."

The men shook hands.

"I don't know where you're from, Mr. Townsend, but I'm glad you came to the beach today. You saved my life."

"What happened?" Justin asked.

"I'm not sure. One minute I was swimming toward shore. The next I was drifting away. No matter how fast I moved my arms and legs, I couldn't make headway."

"You were stuck in a rip tide," Justin said. "You would have drowned unless you had swum parallel to the beach. Once those things get a hold of you, they don't let go."

Emily looked at Justin with awe as he brushed sand from his shorts. She had never known a person who could save a drowning swimmer and provide casual observations about sea currents in the same breath, but she did now. In a matter of minutes, the persistent young man who had pestered her for weeks got a lot more interesting.

When Mr. Benton offered his final thanks and the crowd began to disperse, Emily dropped Anna's hand and walked slowly toward Justin. She reached him just as he completed brushing his shorts and looked up.

"I see danger in those eyes," Justin said. He smiled. "Should I be alarmed?"

Emily nodded.

"Really?"

"Really."

Emily stepped forward and kissed Justin gently and briefly on the lips.

"What's that for?" Justin asked. He chuckled. "I didn't even finish your lesson."

"Oh, yes, you did," Emily said in a soft, seductive voice. She gazed at him intently. "You gave me the best lesson I've had in years."

Emily grabbed his hand.

"Get dressed, Mr. Townsend. I'm taking you to dinner."

CHAPTER 38: CHUCK

Thursday, June 7, 1900

Chuck looked at the clock on the wall and then at the door. Though the hands on the clock had changed in the past twenty minutes, the number of people in the room had not. Six men still occupied three widely separated tables in Uncle Ben's Saloon.

"Why does he want to meet us?" Justin asked.

"I don't know," Chuck said. "He didn't say in the note. He just asked us to be here at nine."

"How long should we wait?"

"Let's give him another ten minutes. It's nine twenty now."

Chuck finished his whiskey. He didn't know why Wyatt Fitzpatrick had requested a meeting in this quiet watering hole near Market and Tenth, but he figured he must have had a good reason. The shipping tycoon hadn't made a fortune by wasting other people's time.

He didn't waste much more of the Townsends'. At nine twenty-two, Wyatt entered the saloon, which had more spittoons than patrons, and walked slowly to Chuck and Justin's table.

"I apologize for my tardiness," Wyatt said. "Please let me make amends by buying a round of drinks."

Chuck and Justin held up their empty glasses, looked them over, and exchanged nods.

"Bring a bottle and we'll call it even," Chuck said.

"Fair enough," Wyatt said.

Wyatt walked to the bar. He returned to the Townsends a moment later with a tumbler and a bottle of whiskey from a local distillery. He placed his rain-soaked jacket on the back of a chair, sat down, and filled three glasses.

"I see the weather has gotten worse since we arrived," Chuck said.

"The storm season is upon us, Mr. Townsend," Wyatt said as he placed the whiskey bottle on the edge of the table. "I imagine we will see much worse before it's over."

You have no idea.

Chuck sipped his whiskey.

"I appreciate the drink, Wyatt, but would you care to tell us what this is all about?"

Wyatt smiled sadly and pulled an envelope from his jacket. He opened the envelope and placed the contents on the table for the others to see.

"What it's about, my friend, is this."

"What's that?" Chuck asked.

"It's the final report of a private investigator in San Francisco. I contacted him shortly after granting you that first interview. I had forgotten I had done so until this came in the mail today."

"You checked us out?"

"I did," Wyatt said. "Though I instinctively trusted you and your son, I thought it prudent to learn more about you before sharing the secrets of my life and the Gulf Star Line."

Chuck sank in his chair.

"What did you learn?"

"I learned that my trust in both of you was apparently misplaced. The investigator found no evidence that a man named Charles Townsend had worked for the
Courier
or any other San Francisco publication. He found no evidence that you had even lived in that area or that Justin had attended college in California. In short, gentlemen, he found no evidence that you exist."

"I see," Chuck said.

"I will not tolerate a liar, Mr. Townsend, if that is your real name. I will, however, offer you a chance to explain yourself. I want the truth and only the truth."

Chuck sighed. He glanced at Justin, who stared back with what-do-we-do-now eyes, and then at another table, where two men talked quietly. He had feared that this moment might come, but he had not expected it to come so soon and certainly not after he had apparently earned the trust of the man he had come to save.

Chuck considered his options before responding. If he lied again about who he was or why he had come to Texas, he would risk undoing all the progress he had made. If he told the truth, he would risk even more. Then he remembered something he had put in his jacket – something he had used just that morning – and decided to play it straight.

"All right. If you want the truth, then I'll tell you the truth," Chuck said. "Just remember to bring an open mind to this conversation. You're going to need it."

"Please continue," Wyatt said.

Chuck paused to collect his thoughts one last time.

"When I spoke to you earlier about my past, I didn't lie – or at least not in spirit. I really am a former reporter from San Francisco. Justin really is a college student. We really did board a train in Los Angeles and come to Galveston to research you and your company."

Wyatt slid the report toward Chuck.

"My investigator says otherwise."

"Your investigator searched in the wrong place – or rather the wrong time," Chuck said. "He would have found us easily had he looked for us in 2016."

"I beg your pardon?"

"We're time travelers, Wyatt. We're two men who haven't yet been born or made their mark on the world – at least not this world. We walked through a time portal in Los Angeles seven weeks ago and came to Texas with the sole purpose of saving you from a hangman's noose."

Wyatt laughed.

"You expect me to believe such rubbish?"

"I do," Chuck said.