Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3), page 26
As he followed Candice into the pressroom, Cameron wondered whether they would even have a chance to escape. He didn't have to wonder long.
Seconds after the editor stepped into the room, shut the door, and forced his hostages to move toward the exit, a fourth person entered the equation. A large man, hiding in the shadows, stepped out of the darkness and ran toward Thad like a lineman rushing a quarterback.
Thad turned toward the threat and squeezed off two shots. The bullets hit the man, Tom Parker, in the shoulder and the thigh. The first shot stopped the janitor cold. The second sent him to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Cameron did not wait for another break. He rushed Thad and went straight for the gun. He reached the editor, now a proven criminal, just as he turned toward his second attacker.
Cameron reached Thad's right arm before he had the chance to aim, shoot, and kill. He sent the editor and his gun to the floor and commenced the fight of his life.
"Go get help!" Cameron screamed.
The Rhode Islander heard Candice step away but did not hear her open the back door. He hoped she had the sense to save herself and not try to be a hero.
Thad did not take the new challenge lying down. He punched Cameron in the mouth, pushed him away, and began a frantic search for a gun that had disappeared in the darkness.
Cameron rebounded quickly. When Thad turned his back to look for the gun, he pounced on him from behind, grabbed a handful of hair, and pounded the perpetrator's head against the floor.
Thad responded by seizing Cameron's wrist, rolling over, and flipping the meddling doctoral student on his back. He turned the tables on his attacker before his attacker could press his advantage and within seconds was pounding him with hard blows to the neck and the head.
Cameron blocked some of the punches but not enough to make a difference. With each blow and passing second, he began to succumb to a man who was bigger, stronger, and tougher.
He listened for the sound of sirens or police moving onto the premises but heard only the sound of Tom Parker moaning on the floor. He hoped he could hold out until someone could lend a hand and prevent more violence.
Thad could have ended the fight there, but he did not. Apparently convinced that he had defeated his assailant, or at least immobilized him, he let up, moved his head from side to side, and then patted the floor in a desperate search for the gun.
Sensing another opening, perhaps his last, Cameron gathered his strength, formed a fist with his right hand and punched Thad in the jaw as hard as he could. When Thad did not answer the punch, Cameron hit him again and again.
Then he placed his hands on Thad's chest, pushed the editor as hard as he could, and sent him flying backward. In a matter of seconds, he had tossed off his attacker, ended an immediate threat to his life, and gained at least a short reprieve. Or so he thought.
When Cameron heard metal scrape against the concrete floor, he knew that his luck had run out. He had thrown Thad onto the gun. He braced himself for a quick demise when Thad grabbed the revolver, scrambled to his feet, and pointed the weapon at his opponent.
"It's too bad it has to end this way," Thad said. "You're a good man, Mr. Coelho. You might even have been a great man. But I guess we'll never know."
Cameron cleared his mind as Thad aimed the gun at his head. He took comfort in knowing that Candice Bell, the woman he had come to save, had managed to save herself.
Deciding to go out with dignity, the New Englander sat up, stared at his assailant, and all but begged him with his eyes to finish the job. He did not have to ask again.
A split second before Thaddeus Grant fired a shot at Cameron Coelho, Candice Bell, petite, delicate flower of the Evansville Post, brought a lead plate crashing down on her editor's skull. In one swift, decisive, and surprising action, she literally brought matters to a head.
"Stick this on page one!" Candice said.
Thad did not have a chance to consider his aspiring news reporter's suggestion. He wobbled for a few seconds, reached for the wall, and then dropped in his tracks.
Cameron crawled to the gun, which had fallen to the floor, and quickly secured it. He rose to his feet, pointed the revolver at the unconscious editor, and relaxed for the first time since entering the building. He looked at Candice when she flipped on the lights.
"Are you all right?" Cameron asked.
"I'm fine," Candice said. "I'm not sure about Tom though. Let me check on him."
"OK."
Cameron watched his fiancée run to a spot about fifteen feet away and attend to a man who had redeemed himself, rewritten history, and saved at least two lives, including, probably, his own. Then he returned his attention to Thad and tightened his hold on the gun as a dozen of Evansville's finest rushed through the door.
CHAPTER 61: CAMERON
Saturday, July 18, 1925
Tom Parker recovered from his wounds. He recovered so nicely, in fact, that he was able to hobble four blocks from his home to Second Baptist Church and accept a hug from a grateful bride on the most important day of her life.
"I'm so glad you could make it," Candice Bell Coelho said. She gave him a warm embrace. "I was afraid you wouldn't come."
Tom tightened his hold on his crutches. Then he sighed, smiled, and gazed at the bride, who sported more pearls, sequins, and lace than any society belle in the pages of the Post.
"I wouldn't have missed this for anything."
"I had hoped that," Candice said. "Thank you for coming."
"You're more than welcome."
Cameron laughed to himself as he watched others react to a white woman hugging a black man in a white church. He didn't care much for the frowns and grimaces, but he did like the more numerous smiles. They were reminders that even in 1925 change was on the way.
Cameron shook Tom's hand a moment later and then sent him down a receiving line that included all of the Evansville Bells, assorted relatives, and the minister. Lawrence Bell had played an unusual role in the wedding. He had given away the bride and served as best man.
"How are you holding up, Mrs. Coelho?" Cameron asked a dozen handshakes later.
"I'm hot. I want to slip out of this dress," Candice said. She leaned toward the groom and whispered sweetly in his ear. "I want to slip out of it now."
Cameron chuckled.
"Patience is a virtue, dear."
Candice frowned.
"I can see you're going to be fun."
Cameron laughed again. He put his arm around his sassy spouse, kissed her on the head, and prepared to greet the remaining guests. Only six had yet to hug the bride, shake hands, and find their way to a table full of sandwiches, deviled eggs, punch, and cake.
One of those guests was Jenny Pinkerton, the eighteen-year-old file clerk who had stolen an invoice at Heller's Drug, given it to Candice, and started a delightful chain of events. Authorities had used the invoice to indict Leonard Heller, Thad Grant, and Albert Gage on multiple felony charges and launch an investigation of a dozen other business figures, including Richard Paine.
Cameron greeted Jenny a moment later and learned that she had already found another job at one of Evansville's largest clothing stores. As he sent her down the line to Marjorie, Lawrence, Lula, and the others, he thought not only of her brave and timely contribution to the cause of justice but also Jeanette Bell's. She, too, had come through in the clutch.
Jeanette had done so despite the obvious risks. By sending a letter to the past, she had given a time traveler, a relative stranger, the means to change the future. She had given him the ability to rewrite history, alter the lives of many, and perhaps replant her own husband's family tree.
In theory, she had taken a huge gamble. In practice, she had probably done something else. She had likely done nothing more than safely invest in the happiness of others.
Cameron did not think he had harmed Geoffrey Bell by preventing a murder that had brought his grandparents together. He believed he had only created a different world for himself and those around him. He had merely started a new time stream, one that would flow independently of all others as it worked its way through the twentieth century.
That didn't mean he didn't feel obligated to make things right. He did. He just knew he could not set anything straight right now. He planned to fulfill one of his many obligations to Professor Bell when he and Candice began their wedding trip in September.
Cameron greeted the last guest, a guest he had invited, and watched with amusement as the hotel clerk introduced himself to Marjorie and Lawrence. He figured that a wedding invitation was the least he could give a man who had kept him in clean suits all spring and summer.
"I think he's the last one," Cameron said.
"I hope so," Candice said. "I'm hungry."
"Didn't you eat anything this morning?"
"No. I was too nervous."
Cameron tilted his head and studied his bride.
"What about?"
"I was nervous about a lot of things," Candice said. "I still am."
Cameron chuckled.
"I didn't think you got nervous about anything."
"That's because you don't know me as well as you think you do."
Cameron smiled.
"You're probably right about that. You continue to amaze me. I knew I was in for a life of surprises the minute you, um, delivered my tea in California."
Candice raised a brow.
"You liked that, did you?"
Cameron nodded.
"I did. I also liked watching you whack Thad with a lead plate. I really liked that," Cameron said. He laughed. "You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"
Candice giggled.
"That depends."
"Depends on what?" Cameron asked.
"It depends on your answers to a few questions."
"Such as?"
Candice sighed.
"Such as … will you cherish me when I'm old and gray?"
Cameron smiled.
"I will."
"Will you provide me with a life of luxury?"
Cameron chuckled.
"I'll try."
Candice fixed her gaze.
"Will you get along with my mother?"
"I'll give it a go," Cameron said. He smiled. "Is that all?"
"No. I have two more."
Cameron laughed again.
"OK. Tell me."
"All right," Candice said. "In addition to everything else, will you be patient with me when I'm an irrational wreck and want to scream at the world?"
"Yes."
Candice giggled at his response. Then she took his hand and looked at him seriously.
"Most of all, Mr. Coelho, will you love me fully, faithfully, and unconditionally and tell me that you love me every day?"
Cameron nodded.
"I'll make it my life's mission."
Candice grinned.
"Then I promise not to bop you on the head."
CHAPTER 62: CAMERON
Pittsfield, Massachusetts – Thursday, September 10, 1925
If there was one thing Cameron had learned to love as a time traveler, it was riding the rails. He had traveled eight thousand miles in six months, but he never grew tired of the experience. This was the way to see a country, he thought. This was the way to see a time.
"What are you thinking?" Candice asked.
"I'm thinking about 1925," Cameron said. He turned away from his window in the lounge car and looked at his bride of fifty-four days. "I'm thinking about how much I love this time."
Candice offered a hopeful gaze.
"Does that mean you want to stay?"
Cameron nodded.
"It does. I still have to return to 2017, at some point, to take care of my affairs. I still want to visit the future to check on people and places. But this is the time I want to live in. This is the time I want to raise a family and grow old with you."
Candice turned away.
"What's the matter?" Cameron asked.
She looked at him with misty eyes.
"You're making me cry again."
Cameron smiled.
"Why?"
"Because I know what you're giving up," Candice said. "You're giving up things I could never give up. You're giving up your home and your friends and your memories."
Cameron threw his arm around Candice, pulled her close, and kissed her head.
"There is nothing I'm giving up that competes with this. I'll miss some of my friends and professors. I'll definitely miss my boat," Cameron said. He laughed. "I may even miss a world where the Red Sox win the World Series. But I won't miss the rest. I'm happy for the first time in my life – truly happy. I don't want to throw that away for a few modern conveniences."
"Have you shared your decision with Professor Bell?"
"No. I will though. I'll send him a letter when we get to Florida. I want to take a few days to organize my thoughts before putting them on paper. I know he won't be pleased."
"Why not?" Candice asked.
"Because he hates loose ends. He's a Bell."
Candice pinched him.
"Ouch!"
"We're not all that way," Candice said. "I'm not that way."
Cameron smiled.
"You're right. You're not. Except when you're doggedly pursuing leads for months to put bad men in jail, you're not that way at all. You're positively indifferent to loose ends."
"You're mocking me," Candice said.
"Mocking is a sign of affection."
"So are lead plates."
Cameron laughed.
"Touché."
Candice smiled.
"That's better."
"Speaking of loose ends, have you told your cousin that we're coming to Boston?" Cameron asked. "I would hate to surprise him on short notice."
"He knows. I wrote him a month ago."
"Thank you."
"Are you sure you want to go through with the plan?" Candice asked. "We don't have to. We can just have a pleasant visit and leave things as they are."
Cameron met her gaze.
"I could have left 1925 as it was too."
Candice smiled weakly.
"I see your point."
"It will be fun," Cameron said. "It will be like finishing a puzzle, a puzzle that is missing two very important pieces."
"I married a poet."
"You married someone who doesn't like loose ends."
Candice laughed.
"I thought that was my family quirk."
"It is," Cameron said. "I'm a member of your family."
Candice shook her head.
"What am I going to do with you?"
"You're going to keep me," Cameron said. "You're going to keep me because I'm going to make you very happy. I'm going to give you the life you want."
"Do you know what I want?" Candice asked.
Cameron nodded.
"You want what every woman wants – or at least almost every woman I've ever known. You want a happy marriage, a career, a family, and maybe a few trips to Italy and France."
Candice smiled sadly.
"You're partly right."
"I don't understand," Cameron said. "I thought you wanted all those things."
Candice looked at her husband.
"I do."
"Then why the reflective face?"
Candice put her hand on his knee, massaged it softly, and stared at the empty coach seats in front of them. When she looked again at Cameron, she did so with wistful eyes.
"Before we left Evansville, I went to see Mr. Taylor, the publisher," Candice said. "I wanted to talk to him about this trip and my future with the Post."
"Were you afraid he wouldn't hold your job?"
"No. That wasn't it at all."
"Did he agree to hold your job?" Cameron asked.
"He did," Candice said. "He did more than that, in fact. He offered me Thad's old position. He offered me the job of managing editor."
"Oh, Candice, that's wonderful."
"I took a pass."
"You what?"
Candice sighed.
"I turned him down. I turned him down and resigned my position."
"Why?" Cameron asked. "I thought you liked your job."
"I do," Candice said. "I like it a lot."
"Then why did you quit?"
"I quit because I want to do more in life than bust crime rings and put people like Leonard Heller in prison. I want to raise a family, our family, on a farm."
"We don't have a farm, Candice."
"We do now."
"We do?" Cameron asked.
Candice nodded.
"Mother isn't going to sell the acreage. She's giving it to us as a wedding present, along with enough cash to build a new home and improve the property."
"That's incredibly generous," Cameron said.
"I think so too," Candice said. "I didn't expect it."
"Is that why you've been so happy lately?"
"It's one reason."
"What's another?"
Candice offered a sheepish smile.
"I'm getting ready for a new assignment."
Cameron stared at her.
"You don't mean?"
"I do," Candice said. She took a breath and gave her husband a loving gaze. "We're going to have our family before we have our farm."
CHAPTER 63: CAMERON
Boston, Massachusetts – Monday, September 14, 1925
The restaurant, a former tavern, was a monument to another time. Dim, noisy, and filled with sturdy tables and chairs, the kind that could withstand an occasional fight, McCain's was a place where workers argued politics, ruffians patted backs, and a gentleman from a much better neighborhood had once lost himself in grief.
"Do you think this will work?" Candice asked.
"I should ask you that," Cameron said. "You know your cousin."
Candice frowned.
"I know he's lonely. He told me that much last night."
Cameron reached across the table and clasped his wife's hands.
"Loneliness is good. As long as it's a temporary affliction, it's good. It helps blind men see the light and selfish men look beyond their own interests."
