Chapter 34 New York City, 1928—Clay #2
“You’ll leave a big hole in the legal community.”
She grinned. “Only in certain segments.”
It was Sean’s turn to laugh, and he did. “Even gangsters deserve good lawyers.”
“Since I’m leaving town, I won’t try to defend my choice of clients. But you know what? They always paid their bills, and I only did contract work for them. I never handled their other enterprises.”
Clay zeroed in with interest. Kaitlyn didn’t get defensive.
She compartmentalized her clients’ identities and their actions.
She didn’t look the other way but considered their illegal exploits entirely outside her purview.
It was a good thing Bastien was taking her away from the city before guilt by association ruined her reputation and destroyed her law practice.
She poured a cup of coffee. “Has anyone seen Bastien?”
“With a fresh charge on his prosthesis, he went for a walk over an hour ago,” Sean said.
“Walk? Really?”
“He said if he had his racing blade, he’d go for a run. I don’t know what that means, but that’s what he said.”
“He’s mentioned that before. Clay, what does it look like?”
“I’ll draw you a picture.” Kaitlyn stood over Clay’s shoulder while he sketched Bastien in running shorts, a T-shirt, a ball cap, and a prosthetic blade.
“Doesn’t it bother Bastien to have his leg exposed like that for everyone to see?”
“In our time, it’s not unusual to see men and women with prosthetics, even in Congress.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
“The U.S. senator from Illinois lost both legs and partial use of her right arm when a rocket-propelled grenade hit the Blackhawk helicopter she was piloting.”
“I don’t understand what a helicopter is,” Kaitlyn said.
Clay sketched a picture of a Blackhawk helicopter and an airplane on a runway. “It’s a type of aircraft that has a vertical takeoff instead of using a runway and forward acceleration to generate lift for takeoff.”
Kaitlyn studied the sketches. “Will I see one of them?”
“Sure, and if you want to, fly in one. David McBain flies the MacKlenna helicopter.”
“Does Kenzie fly in it?”
“She does.”
“Do you?”
“I’ve flown in it twice.”
Kaitlyn sat down next to Clay and poured a cup of coffee. “I can’t believe I’m going to meet her. I’ll probably be so tongue-tied I won’t be able to speak.”
“After seeing you last night with Erik, there’s no way in hell you’ll be tongue-tied. And Kenzie is so down-to-earth, she won’t let that happen.”
Sean’s eyes got a little glassy. “Twenty years might be too long.”
“The family would love to see you, especially Kit and Cullen.”
Sean sat back in his chair and folded and refolded the napkin in his lap.
“If you get home and decide you want to visit, leave a note in the bookcase, and Elliott will come get you,” Clay said.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Marcelle waltzed into the dining room, her head buried in a songbook. “Come to get who?”
“Good morning,” Clay said. “Elliott will come get Sean and Eleanor if they decide to go to the future.”
She closed the songbook. “Forget Elliott. I’ll come back for you in a heartbeat. Just say the word.” Marcelle sat next to Clay and poured a cup of coffee. “Who thinks Skye will go home with Remy?”
“I don’t think she will,” Clay said. “She has too much to give up.”
Kaitlyn stiffened and stared at him, astonished. “I’m giving up a law career I’ve worked hard for.”
Clay hissed through his teeth, realizing the mistake he’d made.
“Kaitlyn, that was thoughtless. I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to offend you. You are a member of an elite class of women who make up less than two percent of the lawyers in the country.
That’s an incredible accomplishment, and I didn’t mean to take anything away from your success.
You can still be a lawyer. So let me rephrase.
Skye will give up on getting a record deal, singing on the radio, playing in the best clubs, and becoming an icon in the jazz industry.
She can produce a record that can be played on the radio in the twenty-first century.
But it will be too late to become a jazz icon like Billie Holiday or Ella Fitzgerald. ”
Kaitlyn sipped her coffee. “I see the difference, and you’re right. What do you think, Marcelle? You’ve spent time with Skye. Will she go home with Remy?”
“Yes,” Marcelle said. “Skye has no family or close relationships outside of her musical bubble. Given the choice, she’ll go, and Remy will give her whatever she wants. He’ll be available to her twenty-four seven.”
Kaitlyn mouthed twenty-four seven. “I know you’re tired of me asking what that is, or what that means. But I’m notoriously curious.”
“Twenty-four seven means twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week.”
“So it’s another way of saying all the time?”
“Yes,” Clay said, chuckling. “And it doesn’t bother us at all. Ask all the questions you want. One of the first things Elliott will give you is called an iPad.” Clay sketched a picture.
“This looks like Bastien’s phone. He showed me pictures the other day.”
“The iPad is the size of a book cover. Did he explain Siri?”
Skye shook her head.
“You push a button and have a two-way conversation. You ask Siri questions like, ‘Siri, what is today’s weather?’ Siri will give you a weather forecast.”
“Who is she?”
“Susan Bennett is the original voice actress for Siri’s default American female voice. She’s a virtual assistant who can perform a wide range of tasks. It’s sort of like being able to talk to the person on the radio. If she doesn’t know the answer, she’ll tell you.”
“So she’s real?”
“Susan Bennett is a real person, but Siri isn’t.”
“That’s a weird thing to know,” Marcelle said.
“I’m a ‘jack of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.’”
Marcelle knuckled his forehead. “I love your brain. It’s so weird.”
“Blame Archibald for my weirdness.”
“If I see him again, I will.”
“Back to Siri,” Kaitlyn said, writing in her notebook with a Sheaffer fountain pen with a gold-tipped nib. Her cursive letters were beautiful and flawless, and in the quiet room, the pen made only a gentle whisper as it glided over the paper. “If Siri can’t answer my questions, who can?”
“That’s easy,” Clay said. “You ask Cullen Montgomery. He’s our resident genius.”
Sean shook his head. “A man born in 1824 is your resident genius?”
“Hard to believe, but it’s true.”
“He’s a hundred years old. How is that even possible?” Kaitlyn asked.
“He was in his mid-fifties when he came to live in the future, and he’s been there for a decade.
But before Cullen came to the future, he’d read hundreds of books.
As soon as he arrived, he read hundreds more, plus an iPad is rarely out of reach.
All the children go to either him or Matt Kelly for answers.
Matt is a lawyer and the resident historian. ”
“Cullen Montgomery or Matt Kelly. I’ll remember those names. I’ll also ask Matt about lawyering.”
“Don’t forget Kenzie’s also a lawyer,” Clay said.
“And whatever you need, I’ll just be a text away,” Marcelle said.
“I know what that is. Bastien told me about text messaging. He wanted me to know that I could always reach him.” She stuck her pencil behind her ear and poured a cup of coffee.
Marcelle stepped over to the buffet to fill a plate with bacon, eggs, and biscuits. “Bastien won’t let you out of his sight for a while.”
“Did I hear my name?” Bastien entered the dining room, stood behind Kaitlyn’s chair, and kissed her cheek. “Did you girls talk all night?”
“We talked for a long time,” Kaitlyn said.
“Looks like you’re already making lists,” Bastien said. “What can I do to make the day easier?”
She patted the seat of the chair next to her. “I’m working on that. How was your walk?”
He sat and reached for the carafe. “Felt pretty good until I saw our Viking friend again.”
Clay’s hand jerked, and he spilled coffee on the white tablecloth. “No. He was supposed to leave. What’d he want?”
Bastien sipped some coffee. “I’m not sure.”
Clay put his elbows on the table hard enough that the silverware clinked against the china dishes. “Why’d he come back?”
Bastien’s lips curved into a subtle smile. “He wanted to walk with me, and believe it or not, he was very personable. At least after I relaxed enough to appreciate him.”
“He can be. Women seem to fall at his feet, and men respect him. Or they did until he pulled that stunt a few months ago,” Clay said. “So, what happened?”
“We walked along the East River and talked about sailing and how much he missed being on the water in a longship. That took a moment to conceptualize. It’s hard to picture him as a real Viking.
I noticed last night that he’s a large man with enormous arms and broad shoulders.
I’m far from his size, but we’re about the same height.
But what sent me into a temporary tailspin was when he asked about my prosthesis. ”
“How’d he know you had one?” Kaitlyn asked.
Bastien shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell him.”
“He said last night that we wouldn’t see him again, and here he is, only a few hours later.
How can we believe anything he says?” Clay asked.
“As for how he knew about you, he can find out whatever he wants to know. After he met you, he probably traced your life, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he were in Iraq the day you got wounded. ”
“Why would he do that?”
“To see how you handled it. You and Marcelle are now part of the family. So, what’d he say about your leg?”
“Erik said he’d take me to a time when I could get a new leg. He said he’d taken others there for healing.”
“That’s true,” Clay said. “When Erik took JC to the future for healing, he was in a coma for a year while they healed him. Besides treatment, he listened to a constant stream of literature, science, and history. When he woke, he was physically fit and even more brilliant. He had no memory of what happened to him.”
Clay had an intrusive vision of Violet tied up and forced to watch Sean torture those women. The thought made Clay’s stomach roil. He returned to the buffet and carried the bowl of peppermint sticks to the table, offering a piece to everyone.
Bastien took one and sucked on it. “If Erik’s people can do that with skin, maybe they can give me a permanent prosthesis. Erik said the doctors would attach it to my body. Then, an energy source would power it indefinitely. No more charging it.”
Clay set the bowl down in front of him, just in case he needed more peppermint. “How’d you leave it?”
“I told him I plan to return to Richmond, marry Kaitlyn, and settle in. A new leg would require recovery time and therapy, and I’m not ready for that right now.”
“If it’s like what happened to JC, recovery and therapy would happen while you’re in a coma. You’d return home within minutes of when you left with a new leg. If you can come out smarter and healthier, what’s not to like about the idea?”
Bastien poured more coffee into his cup. “What’s happened with my leg since I’ve been here has made me realize how lucky I am to have the benefit of a twenty-first-century prosthesis and medical care. If Erik’s offer never pans out, I’m still way ahead of the game.”
Kaitlyn hugged him. “And that’s one of the many reasons I love you.”
Sean folded The Wall Street Journal and placed it close to Clay to read next. “I wish Erik had come back to the house with you. I’ve heard so much about him but never met the man.”
“He’s one of a kind, Sean. His presence alone is like meeting every famous warrior throughout history rolled up into one person.
Think of Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, or even William Wallace.
They all shared brilliance and fearlessness.
That’s Erik.” Clay sketched the warriors with Erik leading them up a hill.
He put down his pencil, wondering if Erik had been there, fighting with them, and what role Violet played.
“Do you still want help deciphering your notes this morning?” Marcelle asked. “We can work in the upstairs sitting room as soon as I eat breakfast.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Will you show them to me?” Sean asked. “Unless you discovered information I shouldn’t know about.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem. Let me rework my sketches and decipher my notes. Then I’ll go over the questions and answers with you.”
“I have a meeting scheduled in an hour to wrap up my business, and then I need to pack up my apartment,” Kaitlyn said. “I can help after that.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Bastien asked.
“After I settle my business, I’ll swing by to pick you up, and you can help me at the apartment. I’ll want to take more than I need. Unless you’re there to remind me, I won’t need most of it.”
“I’d volunteer to go with you,” Marcelle said, “but I’d let you take whatever you wanted.”
“Marcelle always overpacks,” Bastien said.
She rolled her eyes. “And you’d rather wash your underwear every night than pack enough for your trip.”
Bastien put Marcelle in a fake chokehold. “Which of your secrets do you want me to reveal to Clay?”
Clay laughed, enjoying the banter between the siblings.
She held up both hands with palms out. “I don’t have any secrets. I’m an open book.”
Bastien let go of her. “You are an open book for sure. ‘What’s your Social Security number? Marcelle, what’s your credit card number?’ What’s the PIN to your bank account? Should I go on?”
Guffaws ripped from Clay’s chest, an unconscious release of coiled tension.
And a wave of broad grins confirmed he wasn’t the only one.
The shared laughter dissolved their collective stress.
A week ago, he didn’t know any of these people, and now he had lifelong friends forged by a mysterious brooch and the subtle meddling of Erik and Violet.