Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3) (24 page)

Candice sat down at the table, across from her lying, thieving beau, and assessed him with gentle eyes for more than a minute. When she finally spoke, she did so in the soft, thoughtful voice of a woman who had rushed to judgment and wanted to mend her own bridges.

"I read your letter," Candice said.

"You did?" Cameron asked.

Candice nodded.

"I read it several times. I know your story by heart now. You could have saved us both a lot of grief by sharing it sooner."

"I wanted to," Cameron said. "You have to believe me."

"I do. I don't know if I believe everything you wrote, but I believe that."

Cameron leaned forward.

"Are you having trouble with the time travel stuff?"

Candice smiled.

"Wouldn't any rational person?"

Cameron chuckled.

"I suppose," he said. "It's the truth though. Everything I wrote is the truth."

Candice rested her head on her hands.

"So it appears."

"You don't seem all that surprised."

"I'm not," Candice said.

"Why?"

"Do you really need to ask? This isn't the first time someone has told me I'm related to time travelers or at least people who discovered the secret."

Cameron smiled.

"You finally have confirmation your mother isn't mad."

Candice laughed.

"I don't know about that. She's still pretty batty, but she's not crazy. She was right about my father and my uncle. She was right about all of it. They really did discover something all those years ago. You're living proof of that."

Cameron reached across the table and took her hands.

"I've missed that laugh. I've missed
you
."

"I've missed you too," Candice said.

Cameron took a breath.

"You must have questions."

"I do. I have more than I can count."

"Give me one," Cameron said.

"All right," Candice said. She fixed her gaze. "How did you get my papers?"

"That's easy. Mary gave them to me. Your lovable little niece sold me the family jewels for five hundred dollars."

"That's all?"

Cameron nodded.

"That's all."

"Then she deserves a good swat," Candice said.

Cameron laughed.

"Give her a break. Mary was ninety-four when she sold me your legacy. She probably needed some bingo money."

Candice pouted.

"That's still no excuse. I'm worth at least double that."

"You are," Cameron said with a smile. He tightened his hold on her hands. "What else would you like to know? Surely you want to know more."

"I do."

"Then ask."

"OK," Candice said. She turned away for a moment, as if to collect her thoughts, and then looked at Cameron with curious eyes. "Tell me about Los Angeles. Tell me about the tunnel. Did you really just walk into this Geoffrey Bell's basement and walk out in the past?"

"I did," Cameron said.

"That can't be all. There must be more to time travel."

"Oh, there is. The process is elaborate. It requires limestone bricks, gypsum crystals, and a lot of math I don't understand, but it works. When I entered Professor Bell's tunnel, it was March 10, 2017. When I walked out, it was March 10, 1925."

Candice frowned.

"It sounds complicated."

"It is," Cameron said. "I don't understand even half of it. I just know I have to find a cave – a cave your father and your uncle explored twenty-seven years ago – and report its location to Professor Bell. He sent me here to learn what I could from you, locate the cave, and then return to Los Angeles and the twenty-first century. Evansville is only part of my mission."

"Do you know where this cave is?" Candice asked.

"I know its general location. It's apparently in or near Needle Peak, a mountain in the Sierra Nevada. You may have read a reference to it in your father's journal."

"I did."

"Needle Peak is ten miles south of Truckee, California, a whistle-stop on the Southern Pacific line," Cameron said. "I figure I'll need three or four days to get to Truckee and another day to hike to the cave. One reason I've waited so long to leave is the snowpack. The roads and trails in the Sierras are only now starting to dry out."

Candice met his gaze.

"Is that the
only
reason you've waited so long?"

"No," Cameron said. "I think you know the other."

"I ask only because I need to know," Candice said. "I need to know that what we've built over the past several weeks is real."

The time traveler pulled her hands forward and kissed them.

"It is," Cameron said. "I wanted to come here even before Professor Bell sent me here. I wanted to meet the woman in the picture, the woman I've fallen in love with."

Moisture filled Candice's eyes.

"Then I guess I have no choice but to put my cards on the table."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I love you too," Candice said. She took a breath. "I also mean I have something to give you."

"What?"

Candice released Cameron's hands, reached into her purse, and pulled out several letters. She placed them on the table and pushed them forward.

"I have these. I have letters from the fall of 1899, letters that my uncle wrote my father a full year after the expedition."

"You don't mean?" Cameron asked.

Candice nodded.

"I know where the cave is," she said. "I know something else too."

CHAPTER 42: CAMERON

Griffin, Indiana – Saturday, June 6, 1925

As Cameron exited the Model T and followed Candice to the site, he noticed signs of rebirth. Leafy trees loomed in the distance. Corn as tall as kindergartners shot up from the ground. Birds flew from fence to fence and announced themselves in a riot of color and a cacophony of sound. Henry Bell's farm had done more than weather a storm. It had undergone a transformation.

"Where's the debris?" Cameron asked.

"It's gone," Candice said. "Workers hauled it away weeks ago."

"Your mother is eager to sell the place."

"She is. She wants to dump the property as soon as possible."

"Does she have a buyer?" Cameron asked.

Candice nodded.

"The neighbors who planted this corn want to purchase the entire lot. I suspect they will own the place in October."

"Does that make you sad?"

Candice stopped, turned around, and looked at Cameron as if he had asked a truly stupid question. She took a deep breath, offered a sad smile, and nodded.

"This is my home, Cameron. I know it doesn't look like much now, but it's still the keeper of my memories. I had hoped to raise a family here. Now all I can do is trespass on fields that will soon belong to others. So, yes, I'm a little sad."

"I meant no offense," Cameron said.

"I know you didn't," Candice said. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Let's not talk of the farm anymore. Let's do what we came to do."

"All right."

Candice took Cameron's hand and led him up a driveway, past a water pump, and over a scar of land that used to be the foundation of a house. When they reached the entrance to the storm cellar, she dropped his hand, walked to the top of the stairway, and looked back at him.

"Do you have the drawing I gave you?" Candice asked.

Cameron pulled a tri-folded sheet from his jacket pocket.

"It's right here."

"Then let's step inside," Candice said.

Cameron nodded and followed her down the stairs, through an open door, and into a narrow chamber he had last visited on a dreadful afternoon. When Candice lit the kerosene lamp she had carried from the car, he placed his satchel on the bench, stepped farther inside, and beheld a space that suddenly looked more like a time portal than a refuge from a storm.

He opened the tri-folded sheet, studied the drawing, and then looked again at a chamber that now seemed all too familiar. He handed the paper to Candice.

"You're right," Cameron said. "I can tell even at a glance that this is the room your father sketched on that sheet. It's almost identical to the room I entered in Los Angeles. The only difference is the bench and a sturdier door."

"So you think this is a time portal?" Candice asked.

"I'm sure of it."

"Then why aren't strange and wonderful things happening?"

Cameron smiled.

"I suppose it's because this portal is missing a few parts."

"I don't follow," Candice said.

Cameron pointed to a recessed groove that ran the length of the ceiling.

"Do you see this track?"

Candice looked up.

"Yes."

"It's not just an ornament," Cameron said. "It serves a purpose. It's supposed to hold a string of gypsum crystals that light up when properly ordered and synchronized."

"What are you saying?" Candice asked. "Are you saying that my father never got this thing to work? Are you saying he never traveled through time?"

"That's my guess. I think he wanted to travel. I think he wanted to travel as badly as your uncle, but he never got the chance. I suspect that he died before Percival could send him the crystals he needed to finish this chamber and conduct his own experiments."

"You seem pretty sure."

"I am," Cameron said. "Your father spelled it out in his diary. He requested a specific number of crystals from his brother a few weeks before he died. He had the portal and the knowledge to travel through time. He just didn't have the batteries to run his toy."

Candice smiled.

"You're speaking in riddles again."

Cameron laughed.

"I'm sorry. I keep forgetting we're from different planets."

Candice sighed and shook her head.

"Please continue, Mr. Coelho."

Cameron chuckled again and then did as requested.

"As I was saying, I believe your father did everything but travel. He built this chamber, gathered the necessary information, and planned to do what your uncle did three times in early 1900. Had he not died when he did, I suspect he would have traveled many times. I suspect
you
would have traveled many times."

Candice turned away, stepped to the back of the chamber, and ran her fingers along the limestone bricks. When she looked again at the man with all the answers, she did so with eyes that revealed curiosity, amazement, and wonder.

"It seems so fantastic," Candice said.

"It's not though," Cameron said. "It's real. I did it myself."

"I know."

"You're thinking about something. I can tell."

Candice walked up to Cameron and took his hands.

"Are you still planning to go to California?"

"I am," Cameron said. He took a breath. "I plan to leave on Tuesday. I know that's coming up fast, but I won't be gone long. I'll find the cave, take what I can from the place, and return to you as soon as I can. I'm not letting you go, sweetheart. I'm not."

"I know you're not," Candice said.

"Then what is it?"

"I've been thinking about something, that's all."

"What?"

"I've been thinking about all that has transpired in the past few days. I've also been thinking about this trip of yours," Candice said. "I have as much invested in this room and those letters and your 'mission' as you do."

"What are you saying?" Cameron asked.

"I'm saying I don't want to write wedding stories this month. I don't want to investigate Leonard or haggle with Thad or shop with Lula. I want an adventure. I want to see a place I've never seen and do some things I've never done."

Candice leaned forward and kissed Cameron lightly on the lips.

"I want to go with you."

CHAPTER 43: CAMERON

Evansville, Indiana – Sunday, June 7, 1925

"I refuse to allow it!" Marjorie Bell said.

Candice folded her arms.

"You can't stop me, Mother. I'm going – and that's that."

Cameron smiled as he watched a classic confrontation. He knew there was nothing funny about a headstrong daughter defying the wishes of a headstrong mother, but he could not help but find this exchange amusing. The Battle of the Bells was representative of what was happening around the country. A new, defiant, strident generation was spreading its wings and exerting unprecedented independence. The Roaring Twenties was starting to roar.

"People will talk," Marjorie said. "You know they will."

"I'm sure they will," Candice said. "They will talk just like they did when Clyde Barrington went to prison. In case you haven't noticed, I'm no stranger to controversy."

Cameron glanced at the combatants and then at the other witnesses, who occupied their usual posts in Lawrence Bell's living room. The patriarch sat in his easy chair, smoked a pipe, and looked on with apparent indifference. Lula sat on the sofa and divided her attention between the women standing near the fireplace, the toddler on her lap, and the man standing in the doorway. She gave Cameron a knowing smile whenever she could.

"Please don't speak that way," Marjorie said. "There is no need to air the family laundry in front of a stranger."

"Cameron is not a 'stranger.' He's a dear friend," Candice said.

"He wasn't a few days ago."

"Well, he is now. We've settled our differences."

"Did he invite you on this wild goose chase?" Marjorie asked.

"No. In fact, he tried to talk me out of it. He would rather go alone."

Marjorie looked at Cameron.

"Is that true, Mr. Coelho?"

"It's true," Cameron said. "I had planned to go alone and would still
prefer
to go alone, but I can't stop Candice from getting on a train any more than you can."

Lawrence lowered his pipe and turned to Cameron.

"What do you hope to accomplish in California?"

"Candice didn't tell you?" Cameron asked.

"No," Lawrence said. "She hasn't told us much."

Cameron looked to Candice for guidance but didn't find any. He could see from her red face and sheepish smile that she had shared little, if anything, with her family. He would have to answer Lawrence's question on his own and hopefully not bury himself in the process.