John A. Heldt - September Sky

SEPTEMBER SKY

A novel by

John A. Heldt

Copyright 2015 by John A. Heldt

Edited by Aaron Yost

Cover art by LLPix Designs

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, with the exception of brief quotes used in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

NOVELS BY JOHN A. HELDT

Northwest Passage Series

The Mine

The Journey

The Show

The Fire

The Mirror

American Journey Series

September Sky

Mercer Street

Indiana Belle

Class of '59

Hannah's Moon

Carson Chronicles Series

River Rising

Boxed Sets

Northwest Passage: The First Three Novels

American Journey: The First Three Novels

Audiobooks

The Mine

The Journey

The Show

The Fire

The Mirror

September Sky

Mercer Street

Indiana Belle

Class of '59

Follow John A. Heldt online at:

johnheldt.blogspot.com

In memory of Alice and Emil

On that day all the springs of the great deep burst forth, and the floodgates of the heavens were opened. Genesis 7:11

The sky seemed to be made of mother of pearl; gloriously pink, yet containing a fish-scale effect which reflected all the colors of the rainbow . Buford T. Morris

If you're going through hell, keep going . Winston Churchill

The past can be used to renew the present, not just to bury it . Terry Eagleton

Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone we find it with another. Thomas Merton

CONTENTS

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.