FULL SPEED AHEAD! (train whistles) Okay, 'nuf said. For some reason, I have a tendency to make these chapters pretty long.
August 18th, 1958
6:30
…blast...
There are two things that suck about anticipation. One: you have a hard time falling asleep the night before. Two: you wake up too early and can't go back to sleep the actual day.
Tossing and turning to get comfortable became useless. He was awake but still tired. Awake enough to work on his doctoral thesis but too tired to finish up the last step of another invented mathematics formula.
His twenty-sixth birthday would be tomorrow. He wouldn't be with his family on that special day, so last night the Hawkinsons and Pooles celebrated with a small party. He received another notebook with a rather nice fountain pen, and the whole family pitched in to buy him a typewriter.
Come to think of it, it was probably a good thing he woke up at that early time. He looked over at the contraption still in its box. How he couldn't wait to use it when he returned home. Maybe he could even tinker with it and make it better than it was, better than the best typewriter in the world. He picked up his birthday notebook and began to sketch the layout of a typewriter's keyboard. The first row and half of the second row were complete when he heard his mum call from outside his door, "Jeffrey, are you awake?"
"Yes, Mum." He replied. He rechecked his alarm clock before turning it off. 7:30? Man, time could really fly.
"Good. Breakfast will be in a few minutes." Sure enough, a wonderful aroma spread throughout the house as he changed into a light blouse and slacks, remembering Charlotte's warning about the United States East Coast's notorious summer heat. He hummed parts of Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony while finishing up dressing, combing his hair, washing his face, and coming down the staircase.
"Morning, Mum." Jeffrey greeted with a gentle peck on her cheek.
"Good morning, Jeff." Mrs. Hawkinson chimed back affectionately, rubbing his shoulder before scooping pancakes and bacon from the sizzling cast iron pans onto a plate. He set the dish down on the dining room table and spread butter across the pancakes.
"Morning, son," His father greeted. Jeffrey quickly swallowed a piece of bacon.
"Hello, Dad." He called back.
Mr. Hawkinson pulled down a mug from a kitchen shelf but leaned over toward his wife. They pulled each other into a tight embrace and kissed each other. Married shortly before the start of the Great Depression and raising a son and two daughters during that and World War Two, nothing could tear them apart. Their personalities contrasted—he was quiet; she was a socialite, but they were a perfect match; hopefully the young genius would find that one day. Even though they were nowhere near of being scientists, his parents were the most hailed of his heroes, and by Curie's cookbook did he love them.
Jeffrey finished his breakfast and set his plate in the sink to soak. He hurried up the staircase to his room to bring down his already packed suitcase. However, there was one thing left to do. He snuck into Amelia's room, his sister tangled in her bed covers from tossing and turning in the heat. He brushed back a few brunette locks and lightly kissed her brow. Like Sleeping Beauty after Prince Charming's kiss, she awoke and sat up.
"You're leaving?" She said drowsily. He nodded, and she wrapped her arms around her brother. "Have a great trip. She pulled back with a tired smile. Amelia had really matured from a feisty, fiery and wild little rascal into a still fiery but bright and beauty young woman of nineteen years.
"Good-bye, Amelia." He smiled.
"Toodles. And happy birthday, now get going."
"Yes, ma'am!" He grabbed his somewhat heavy suitcase and looked again at the clock: 8:20. Time to get going alright! He trotted down the staircase with the steady bump!-bump!-bump! of his luggage. He came into the kitchen where his parents were talking over coffee.
"Are you bringing any projects with you?" His mum asked.
"Some; only a couple." He replied. "I'll work on my doctoral thesis if there's nothing else to do, probably during the flights."
"Both of those, I bet, are about eleven hours each." Mr. Hawkinson noted. "Not a bad idea."
"But try not to spend too much time with it." Mrs. Hawkinson.
"Of course, Mum. With the exception of the flights, I doubt there will be a dull moment."
"Alrightie." The woman nodded her head. "You better catch a lorrie pretty soon. See you in two weeks, and happy birthday." She hugged her son, giving him a gentle kiss.
"Happy birthday, son." The blonde-haired man spoke. He shook his son's hand. "Good luck."
"Good-bye, Dad." Jeffrey replied. "Good-bye, Mum." He picked up his suitcase and opened the front door, stepping down the two concrete steps in time for a bus to stop at the corner of the street.
~Meanwhile…~
Charlotte pulled the suitcase toward the front door. Carrying it down the staircase was one easy ordeal; dragging it from the bottom of the stairs through the hallway across the living room—weaving in and out of furniture included—to the other side in the foyer was another story. What made matters complicated was not only the weight of her baggage but that she was also taking charge at the moment of her grandmum's belongings too. Pulling with all that she could, she made it to the front door only to slip on fall on the hardwood floor. She chuckled at her mishap but winced at the pain in her right shin.
"You okay, Lottie?" Her dad asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine." She replied, pulling up her skirt to make sure she wasn't bleeding. With the stinging pain she felt for the few minutes, she bet anything she would have a handsome bruise and a bump for the next few months. Straightening her skirt and pulling herself back up, she heard a ding-dong! outside the door.
She swung the door open and there stood the young Brit. "Good morning. How's it going?" She asked, letting him in.
"I'm alright and good morning." He covered a yawn with his hand and set his suitcase down. "Pardon me…"
"So this must be the young man I've heard so much about." Mr. Campbell stated, coming out of the kitchen. "Glad to meet you, Jeff." The balding American man gave Jeffrey a firm handshake.
"Welcome to our home, Jeffrey." Mrs. Campbell followed with her mother at her side and greeted with a tender yet confident air. "I'm glad to finally make your acquaintance."
"My pleasure, madam." Jeffrey nodded and kissed her hand.
"Charming." Mr. Campbell muttered, looking at his daughter and winking an eye.
"Dad," Charlotte playfully nudged her dad's arm.
"We'd better get moving." Mr. Campbell announced glancing at his wristwatch. Another doorbell chime caught their attention. "What the—" He opened the door. "Oh, hi there, you two." In stepped Harold and Allison, a smile on both faces. "Well, this is perfect timing; we were just about to take off."
"Hi, Jeff." Harold said, once again pulling his friend into a hug.
"Mm, hello, Harold." Jeffrey replied.
Charlotte and Allison hugged each other tightly. The American young woman felt a bump in between herself and her friend. "Oh, Ally; that's right." She gawked, placing her hands on Allison's stomach. Allison beamed happily. She and Harold had been married for a year already and had lived in the basement at her parents' house. They were looking for a place to live of their own, so the Campbells suggested that the young couple could stay in their home during the trip while they continued their search. And as Charlotte noted, Allison was three months along with a set of twins.
Soon, as everyone was saying hello they were saying good-bye. Each family member, except Grandmum Boyer, picked up their luggage and opened the door, everyone saying their own adios.
"Bye!"
"See you all soon!"
"Good-bye, sweeties."
"Farewell!"
"And please, help yourself to anything you see."
The five travelers caught a bus for a trip to the airport in London. Upon entering the busy crowded place, Mr. Campbell asked while looking back at their arrival seven years ago, "Remember this, ladies?"
Agreeing with a short, anxious nod, they each were handed their tickets and gave the staff their luggage. Charlotte couldn't help but notice the nervous expression on Jeffrey's face and the shaking of his hands.
"You alright?" She asked.
"I guess," He answered, surrendering his suitcase. "It's just that I've never flown before. As you probably remember, flying was much too risky during the War."
"I know that much. And jet lag. I know New Hope's only five hours off of England's time, but I'm telling you now, that it'll be an adjustment alright."
"I bet."
"Yeah, hopefully it shouldn't take too long. It's almost eleven now, so it's six in New Hope. By the time we arrive it'll be seven in the evening there and midnight in England. I'll say this much; it's gonna be one long day."
The two Yanks and three Brits made their way through the mob outside to the airplane. Stepping up the wheeling staircase into the aircraft and taking their designated seats, they could only wait. Next thing they knew all systems were go and the plane began its short journey to the run way for its much longer voyage. Still nervous, Jeffrey clung onto the armrests tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"If you need to," Charlotte reassured. "Take my hand."
The plane lifted off the ground into the air, and she held his hand as he shut his eyes. The upward direction and a short gradual turn to set the course to New York City was the only intense part, as he observed, when it was all over.
"Well, that wasn't so bad." He sighed. Charlotte smiled. Watching what could be seen through the small windows, the five passengers saw cars turn into dots along black little lines. The land soon transformed into a quilt-like pattern. For a short time, they saw the luscious beautiful green of Ireland.
The one site that overwhelmed them before ascending into the clouds was the crossing from green to blue. The thrill seemed to be over, and they returned to whatever they could bring with them in their seats.
Boringly, Charlotte pulled out a notebook and a pen.
"Monday, August 18, '58,
11:30 am—England
6:30 am—Pennsylvania
Just crossed over the English border. Maybe will see Ireland like the last time I flew. For now nothing to see."
…let's see…what else…
"I…
"…like…
"…forget-me-nots."
For the next half-day, the five found ways to pass the time. Jeffrey wrote what he could for his paper and worked on learning how to use the keyboard on his rough sketch. Charlotte updated her log every once in a while and played several games of one-man hangman, with Jeffrey and/or family members joining in on the occasion. Naps became common later on in the day, and a small dinner was served around 6 o'clock (1 in Pennsylvania).
Around 11:30 at night (6:30 p.m.) a growing sea of lights appeared in the distance. A sea green towering statue created bright anxious expressions on several faces; they were almost there. "There she is, Jeff." Charlotte said, both peering as best as they could outside the window. "Lady Liberty."
Mr. Campbell wiped away tears of joy and sentiment. Mrs. Campbell, pleasant to be only minutes away from her second home, awoke her mother. Dorothy's "Oh, Auntie Em, there's no place like home!" was the perfect fit to Charlotte's exhilaration. Jeffrey could only stare with intrigue and wonder despite the fact he saw all this several years ago as a boy.
Upon the plane landing, for several passengers it was so good to be on stable ground again that the average weirdo would've kissed the ground. The five retrieved their luggage, but as tired as they were they had one more journey to go: a fifty-four-mile/eighty-nine-kilometer drive across New Jersey to the other side of the Delaware River. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell took turns being on the lookout for signs of their small hometown.
Thankfully, reservations at a hotel were already made. They finally arrived and checked in for three years. Mrs. and Mrs. Campbell and Grandmum Boyer shared a room while Jeffrey and Charlotte each had a room of their own. However, they were so tired that once the suitcases were set down they collapsed and crashed into a desperately desired sleep, still in their travel clothes.
…
Should have the next couple chapters coming up pretty soon. Just as a stupid crappy author gobbledy gook, here goes. 10 things about me…1. I had a huge vein on my nose 'til I was 10. 2. From last summer to this May, I was kinda a goth wannabe. 3. I knew about Andy Griffith before he died. 4. I used to get Michael Jackson & Michael Jordon mixed up. 5. I am a major city girl. 6. I used to have crushes on Lumiere, Will Turner and Dr. Cockroach. 7. I love grey, black, and the occasional light green. 8. I'm scared to death of bees. 9. I used to be a severe perfectionist. 19. Dark chocolate and coffee are so gross! (how do people like that stuff?)
PS: One-man hangman is one of my favorite pastimes. I already know the answer but I pick a long passage most of the time…just fill in the blanks. Crazy, huh? O_o