September Sky (American Journey Book 1) (51 page)

"Emily! She's alive!" Justin said. He pointed to the screen with a shaking finger. "She didn't die with her parents. She didn't drown. Two guys pulled her from the water and took her to a hospital."

Justin got out of his chair, stepped away from the desk, and started pacing around the room.

"Read it, Dad. She didn't die. She was in Houston the whole time."

Justin walked to the nearest bed, sat on the edge of the mattress, and put his fingers on his temples. He simply couldn't process all the information flowing through his mind.

Chuck, Charlotte, and Wyatt jumped out of their respective seats and raced across the room. When they reached the laptop, which sat atop the desk, they started reading about a dear friend who had beaten the odds in the storm of the century.

"She survived a coma," Chuck said.

"Yeah. She did," Justin said. "She survived a lot of things."

Justin watched the others scroll through the microfilm and then walked to the hotel room's sole window. He opened the curtains, stared at Los Angeles at dusk, and thought of another city, another time, and a woman who still captured his imagination.

She had survived, he thought. Somehow, someway, even after her parents had been crushed by debris, Emily had survived. She had fought for life in a sea of death and cheated the Reaper.

Justin held on to that thought as he gazed at the scene beyond the window. He knew that the shipping tycoon's daughter had possessed an iron will, but he had never seen it put to a test. He never admired anyone more than he admired Emily Beck at that moment.

He continued to stare blankly at the streetscape until he felt a hand on his left shoulder. He knew from the soft touch that the hand belonged to the stepmother he adored.

"Are you going to be all right?" Charlotte asked.

Justin sighed.

"I think so."

Charlotte extended her arm across Justin's back to his right shoulder. She kept her hand there for a moment, patted the shoulder, and then pulled her stepson closer.

"She was a fighter," Charlotte said. "That's why we loved her."

Justin winced when he heard the word "was." How could anyone speak of Emily in the past tense when they had all seen her just a few days ago?

Then Justin remembered that those days were no longer just days. They were years. He reminded himself that even if Emily had survived the storm, she hadn't survived the passage of time. There was nothing he could say or do now to change that fact. Or was there?

"I have to go back," Justin said.

"You have to do
what
?" Charlotte asked.

"I have to go back to 1900. I have to ask Professor Bell to send me back so that I can see her again. I'll plead if I have to. I want to do it. I want to do it tomorrow."

Chuck glanced at Justin from across the room but didn't say a thing.

"Shouldn't you think this through?" Charlotte asked.

Justin pulled back from his stepmother's embrace.

"No. I've done nothing but think since we left Texas. I want to start doing. I love Emily and miss her and want her back. I don't care if the professor gives me a one-way ticket. I want to go."

Justin looked at Charlotte and saw the concern in her eyes. He knew he probably should think the matter through, but he wasn't going to do it. He had already made up his mind. He was going back to Galveston for the woman he loved if it was the last thing he did.

Justin turned away from Charlotte and walked toward his father. He expected to find a cautious man who was prepared to talk him out of a foolish pursuit but found something else. He found a man with his head in his hands.

"What's the matter, Dad?"

Chuck didn't respond.

"What's the matter?" Justin asked again.

"Take a look," Chuck said.

Justin suspected the worst the moment he glanced at Chuck and Wyatt. He saw a father who looked like he had seen a ghost and a friend who looked positively defeated.

Justin put a hand on Chuck's shoulder and then leaned forward to get a better look at the laptop screen. He needed only a second to see that his plan had hit a snag.

STORM SURVIVOR DIES IN ACCIDENT

HOUSTON, September 17 – A Galveston woman pulled from storm waters by two fishermen during last week's hurricane died in a carriage accident around noon today.

Emily Beck, 20, was killed when her coach overturned as it crossed a narrow bridge on Cotton Road. She was traveling from St. Ignatius Hospital, where she had recovered from injuries sustained in the storm, to the Grand Central Depot.

The carriage driver, Daniel Weston of Houston, suffered a broken arm. He was treated and released from the hospital this afternoon.

Miss Beck was preceded in death by parents Maximilian and Isabella Beck, who died in the hurricane. Survivors include a sister, Anna Beck, and grandparents Pierre and Estelle Pelletier of New Orleans. Funeral arrangements are pending.

CHAPTER 90: JUSTIN

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Justin knew the moment he saw Geoffrey Bell that he had a mountain to climb. He saw disappointment in the professor's face, along with frustration, annoyance, and a trace of anger. He began to wonder if he had made a mistake in leaving the hotel.

"Please take a seat," Bell said as he led Chuck, Charlotte, Justin, and Wyatt into his living room. He waited for his guests to sit on a long sofa and then made himself comfortable in a leather recliner.

Jeanette Bell, perpetual hostess, sat in a rocking chair. She had already made coffee, tea, and shortbread and placed them on silver trays on a low table in front of the couch.

"How was your stay at the Regency?" Bell asked.

"It was nice," Chuck said. "Thank you for putting us up."

"It was the least I could do, sir. I'm pleased to hear that your stay was satisfactory."

Justin glanced at Bell, who frowned, and then at Jeanette, who smiled nervously. He didn't know what had changed since Friday, but something had.

"You look disappointed, Professor," Chuck said.

"I am, Mr. Townsend. I am."

"What did I do now?"

"It's what you
didn't
do that disappoints me," Bell said. "You didn't keep the kind of journal I asked you to keep. You didn't write about 1900 or even Galveston. Instead, you waxed poetic about the fair Miss Emerson. You also wrote quite a bit about Mr. Fitzpatrick, Miss O'Malley, your son, and Miss Beck. Soap opera doesn't make for good history."

"I guess it doesn't," Chuck said.

"I offer my sympathies, by the way, on the loss of Miss O'Malley and the apparent loss of Miss Beck. From what you wrote, I can see they were special ladies."

"They were."

"In any event, Mr. Townsend, I can't say I'm pleased with how you, a veteran reporter, chronicled your time in an amazing era. I'm also unhappy that you lost the white crystal. I have just five in my possession now and am not at all certain I'll be able to obtain more."

"I didn't
lose
the crystal," Chuck said.

"Did it walk away on its own two legs?"

"No. Someone stole it from me."

"Then you lost it. Even your son managed to hold on to his rock," Bell said. He looked thoughtfully at Justin. "Thank you for returning it."

"You're welcome," Justin said.

Chuck gave his son an
"Et tu, Brute?"
glare and then returned his attention to Bell.

"What's this all about, Professor?" Chuck asked. "Why are we even here? Did you ask us to come back today so that you could insult me a second time?"

"I asked you back, sir, to gain knowledge. I had hoped to learn more about 1900. All I've learned so far is that you're a careless man who put his own selfish interests ahead of research."

Chuck bristled.

"I gave you a diary – a long, detailed journal that you can use for whatever suits your fancy. I also brought back two living, breathing Victorians. You want to learn more about 1900? Then talk to Charlotte and Wyatt. Or put Mack on another fact-finding mission."

"I just may do that," Bell said.

Justin put his hand on his father's knee and squeezed hard. As someone who wanted to ask Bell for a favor, he wasn't pleased with his father's theatrics.

"If that doesn't float your boat, I can give you 1900 in high-definition video," Chuck said.

"So you broke
another
rule?" Bell asked. "You're the gift that keeps giving, Mr. Townsend."

"Is this about money, Professor?"

"It might be."

"I see," Chuck said. "Well, if it is about money, I'll happily pay back every cent you put into this venture, with interest. I don't want to owe you a thing."

"That's refreshing," Bell replied.

"I think I've heard enough," Chuck said. He stood up and looked at his family. "Let's go."

"No!" Justin snapped. He glared at his father. "I don't want to go. I don't want to go until I've had my say. We came here for a reason – or at least I did."

"What reason is that?" Bell asked.

Justin rose from the sofa and faced his questioner.

"I have a favor to ask," he said.

"You do?"

Justin nodded.

"I want you to send me back to 1900. I want to go back so that I can bring Emily here."

Bell smiled.

"That's rather audacious of you."

"Don't punish me for what my father did or didn't do," Justin said.

Bell tilted his head.

"Why not? You know what they say about 'the sins of the father.'"

"Don't do this," Justin said. "Please help me. I love Emily. I can't live without her."

"But you can," Bell said. "You've done so for eleven days now."

Justin exploded into tears.

"For God's sake, Professor, Emily died. She died in a freak accident days after surviving the hurricane. If I go back now, I can save her. I can bring her back. Just give me a chance."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

"Yes, you can," Justin said. He wiped away a tear. "You can do anything. Please help me. I'm begging you. I have to save her. I have to have her back."

Justin turned to Mrs. Bell. He hoped to find an ally or at least a kindred spirit. He instead found a woman who had apparently tired of the quarreling. Jeanette got out of her rocking chair and moved swiftly toward an open door.

Bell frowned as he watched his wife exit the room. He got out of his recliner, glanced at Wyatt and Charlotte, and then stepped toward Justin. He did not look at Chuck.

"I'd like to grant you that favor, young man," Bell said. "From what I hear, you conducted yourself admirably and honorably in 1900 – unlike your father – and deserve to be rewarded."

"Then help me," Justin said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Send me back."

Bell sighed.

"I'm afraid that even if I did, it would do you no good."

"What do you mean?" Chuck asked.

"What I mean, sir, is that even if I sent Justin back to 1900 today, he would not be able to save Emily's life. What you both forget is that the range of the crystals is limited to exactly 116 years. I told you as much when you left here in April."

Justin dropped his head.

"The Emily Beck you knew died on September 17, 1900," Bell said. "Today is September 18, 2016. I would not be able to save her myself if I left today."

The professor stepped forward and put a hand on Justin's shoulder. He smiled softly.

"Yesterday, however, was another matter."

Bell looked at the entry to the living room.

"You can come out, dear. Your suitor awaits."

Justin turned toward the open door and saw a ghost step into view. A young woman who had been dead for 116 years suddenly looked very much alive.

"It's you," Justin said.

"It's me," Emily responded.

Justin stepped away from Bell and moved slowly toward the door as he tried to reconcile what he saw with what his brain told him could not be true. He stopped about halfway there.

"I looked for you. I looked for you everywhere. I swear to God I did," Justin said. He took a breath. "I didn't want to leave."

Emily smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks. Wearing the crisp white shirtwaist and the long red skirt Justin loved so much, she looked like an angel ready for a walk on the town.

"I know you didn't," Emily said. She wiped away a tear. "But you
did
leave, Mr. Townsend. You left me in a coma! And if you don't kiss me now, I'll never forgive you."

Justin laughed, sighed, and walked toward the woman he would marry at the first opportunity. When he reached her, he put his hands on her face and gave her a kiss that absolved him of all his sins – and maybe a few his father and Wyatt had committed.

"I love you," Justin said.

"I love you too," Emily replied.

Justin wrapped his arms around Emily and, for a moment, anyway, forgot he was in a room full of people. Just that quickly, life was good again.

Then a shiver swept through him as he realized that someone was missing from the happy scene, someone he loved as much as the woman in his arms. He looked at Emily with concern.

"Where's Anna?" Justin asked.

Emily smiled softly but did not answer. She glanced at the professor.

"I guess you haven't heard, Mr. Townsend," Bell said.

Justin turned to face his host.

"Heard what?" he asked.

"Good things always come in twos."

Justin followed the professor's eyes to the living room's side door, where he saw Jeanette Bell. She had apparently gotten over her disgust with the bickering men. She smiled as she held the hand of the greatest little girl in the world.

Anna did not bother with small talk or protocol. She released Jeanette's hand and raced across the room like a baby bull. When she finally reached Justin, she embraced him with a fierceness that brought a smile to her big brother's face and tears to the eyes of the others.

Justin hugged Anna back and kissed the top of her head. For one simple, splendid moment, life for the college dropout had reached perfection. Justin Townsend had found his purpose.