The Mine (Northwest Passage Book 1)

by John A. Heldt

  "This has been fun, kids," Tom said. "What do you say we all do something next Saturday? I could even go for a movie."

  "I'd like that," Ginny said. "Just as long as you don't drag me to one of those awful Westerns. I'd rather watch dogs procreate than put up with another ambush at the pass."

  Tom laughed.

  "How about you two?"

  Linda looked at Joel and nodded.

  "Yeah," Joel said. "I'd like that."

  "OK, then. It's a done deal. I'll never pass up an opportunity to drive my wheels around town with two lovely ladies."

  Hearing the music start, Ginny dropped her cigarette to the deck and snuffed it out with a heel. She clutched her purse with one hand and Tom's arm with the other.

  "Looks like the pipes are back in action," she said. "Shall we go in?"

  Joel gazed at Linda for several seconds, as if weighing all the possible answers to a very simple question, and smiled fondly at his date. Linda responded in kind and tightened her hold on his hand.

  "You two go ahead," Joel said, looking at Ginny and then at Tom. "I kind of like the fresh air. I think we'll stay for a while."

  * * * * *

  When most on the deck returned to the dance hall, Joel led Linda down a flight of stairs to a well-manicured lawn that ran thirty yards to the lake. Four deck lights provided enough illumination to walk to the water without falling in.

  "You like the outdoors, don't you?" Linda asked.

  "I do."

  "I overheard you talk with Tom at dinner. I don't think I've ever known a person who gets excited about glaciers and igneous rocks."

  "They're pretty hot stuff. That's why I keep all my geology magazines in brown paper wrappers under the bed."

  Linda smiled.

  "You're funny – and pretty learned for someone who never attended college. Have you ever thought of going to school or doing something besides selling furniture?"

  "You mean like joining the circus or working as a cabana boy? Yeah, I've thought about it. But there's something about ventilating mattresses that keeps me grounded."

  "I see why Ginny likes you."

  "She does?"

  "Oh, yes. She said just yesterday that 'Joel Smith is the only man I've ever met who can make me laugh and think at the same time.'"

  Joel grinned.

  Wait till she meets Grandpa.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Joel and Linda stood at the edge of the water, arm in arm, and watched dusk turn into night. Neither said more than a few words, but neither had to. Their silence was a source of comfort, not discontent.

  The tranquility was broken a moment later, when two couples noisily emerged from the hall. One walked to a shiny black Ford parked near the front of a dirt lot. The other stayed on the deck and propped open an exit, allowing the upbeat sound of "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller to drift across the lawn and drown out a cricket philharmonic.

  "You sure you don't want to dance?" Linda asked.

  "I'm sure – and not just because I don't want to fall on my face. I'd rather stay out here with you."

  "Really?"

  "Really." Joel grabbed both of Linda's hands and looked at her face. "Why would you think otherwise?"

  "Well, to be honest, I wasn't sure you even wanted to go out. I didn't exactly make the best first impression at Tom's graduation party. I had a little too much celebration," she said, staring at her feet. "And I've noticed you've become rather sweet on Grace."

  "I wasn't sure about going out tonight, not at first. But I'm glad we did. You look stunning – breathtaking – and you've been perfect company. I could not have asked for a better date," he said. "As for Grace, I do like her. I like all of you. But I'm here with you now, not her, not anyone else, and I'm very happy to be here."

  Joel meant it too. His feelings for Grace had not ebbed a bit, but for the first time in weeks he began to ask serious questions – questions he should have asked at the start. Did he and Grace actually have something? Or was he just a fool holding Paul McEwan's jacket until he returned on leave?

  And what about his so-called consolation prize? She had no restrictions and came exactly as advertised: smart, pretty, honest, flawed, and unabashedly interested in the new kid in town. If nothing else, Linda deserved a fair shake and an open mind. The old saying about a bird in the hand began to gnaw.

  Joel considered another thing as well. It felt good having a woman in his arms and in his life. It had been two months since he had enjoyed a similar moment with Jana, two months and fifty-nine years. Life as a monk was getting old.

  "Are you OK?" Linda asked. She looked at him with soft, expressive eyes, eyes any man could get used to. "You look kind of lost."

  He smiled and pulled her closer.

  "I was," he said, "but not anymore."

  Joel put a hand to Linda's face and took a long look at his Second Impression. He kissed her and, for a few splendid minutes, forgot why he was lost in the first place.

  CHAPTER 40

  Three days after his moonlight stroll with Linda McEwan, Joel waited outside the university library for an afternoon stroll with its most industrious student worker. This time, however, Tuesdays with Grace was Tuesday with Grace and Katie.

  "I hope you don't mind," Grace said, walking next to the man she had thought about all weekend. "We never get off at the same time, but we do today."

  "Of course I don't mind."

  "Thanks, Joel," Katie said. "I'll try to behave myself."

  Joel laughed.

  "Where would you like to walk, ladies?"

  "Where do you normally go?" Katie asked.

  "I like to go south and west and then north," Joel said, speaking as though he had done that ten times instead of one. "That way we get to see the best of campus."

  "Well then, let's go north and east and then south. I'd like to see the worst."

  Katherine Kobayashi did not let up. For the next twenty minutes she kept Joel in stitches from one end of campus to the other with self-deprecating jokes, witty asides, and humorous anecdotes about her unusual college experience.

  Joel asked himself why he had not spent more time with her. Then he looked at Grace and answered his own question.

  "How did you two meet and become friends?"

  "We've known each other since our freshman year, when we both worked in the library's circulation department," Katie said. "Grace checked out books, and I made sure she did them right."

  Grace smiled but did not speak.

  "When I learned that she had lived in Asia, I made an effort to get to know her better. I knew we would always have a lot to talk about. My parents came to this country from Yokohama."

  "I see."

  "One day I asked her to attend a Hasu Club meeting with me and speak to the group about her experiences. Hasu means lotus in Japanese."

  "Did she come?"

  "She did," Katie said. "She did a wonderful job too. We even asked her to join."

  Joel eyed Grace and wondered why she had not yet jumped in. This was her story too. But he figured she was more than content with Katie's version. Why take the time to talk about your past when a colorful interpreter could do it for you?

  "Did Grace join the club?"

  "She did!" Katie said with a gleam in her eyes. "She became very popular, too, in part because she brought us a special gift once a month."

  "What was the gift?

  "Ginger snap cookies."

  Joel laughed. He did not need to ask why Grace had befriended this pint-sized comic. She was a gem no jeweler needed to touch. When he asked Katie about her background, she gave him the resume. The oldest daughter of a fish market owner, she had graduated fifth in her class at Multnomah High School in Portland and ventured north in search of change. Majoring in English, she hoped to find work as a translator or Japanese instructor when she got out in June.

  As the trio reached Forty-Fifth Street and turned west, not east, at Grace's request, Joel looked at Katie and thought about the fate tha
t awaited her. More than four hundred Japanese American students had been forced to leave the university after Pearl Harbor and live in internment camps.

  "Katie, do you mind if I ask you a serious question?"

  "That depends. If you want to know how many boyfriends I've had, the answer is yes. Otherwise, I don't mind."

  Joel smiled. She did not miss a beat. But he proceeded with his question because his curiosity outweighed any desire to mind his own business.

  "You're safe from boyfriend questions," he said. "I just wanted to know if you were concerned about what's going on in the Pacific."

  Katie slowed to a stop and tucked away her infectious smile. She looked at Joel like a mother explaining a complicated and sensitive subject to a child.

  "I am very concerned. I have many relatives in Japan who would like to come to America but can't, and I worry about what would happen should our countries go to war. My family and I would be vulnerable. It is something I think about every day."

  "I did not mean to upset you. I was just curious."

  "You could never upset me. You are a good man," she said. "But there are many others, even in this town, who are not so good. I fear a war would bring out the worst in a lot of people. That's why I hope the differences between America and Japan can be resolved peacefully."

  With anyone else, Joel would have brought up Japan's "peaceful" occupation of Manchuria. But he did not want to pick a fight with a girl who was no doubt deeply torn by events over which she had no control. He imagined that Grace and Katie had probably had more than a few delicate discussions about the Rape of Nanking.

  Silence followed the three for much of the next block, prompting Joel to turn his attention to the quiet member of the group. She had not uttered more than a few words since leaving the library. Nor had she appeared tuned in to her friends' conversation. Grace seemed lost, even dispirited, and that was a cause for concern.

  When the trio passed the entrance to a drug store, Katie stopped abruptly and peered into a window as if looking for someone she knew. She turned to face the others.

  "Well, this is where I get off," she said.

  "Get off?" Joel asked. "I thought I was walking you home."

  "Not today. I need to buy a magazine."

  "Do you want us to wait?"

  "No. I will be a while, maybe an hour."

  "You need an hour to buy a magazine?"

  "Yes. There are very good magazines in here. You two run along."

  Embarrassed by his slow grasp of the obvious, Joel smiled and tried to contain the flush that spread over his face. He put a hand on Katie's shoulder.

  "OK, then. Pick a winner."

  "I will. Can we do this again sometime?"

  "Of course. You can count on it," Joel said.

  Katie searched her purse methodically for several seconds, finally retrieving a few one-dollar bills that Joel knew she wouldn't need and a large key she probably would. She walked a few steps to a double-glass door and turned to face her old friend.

  "I'll see you at the house, Grace."

  The blonde nodded but did not speak, just as she had not spoken during most of the unintentionally long get-acquainted session between her talkative friends. She instead stared at the departing party with gentle eyes, smiled wistfully, and mouthed the words that Joel had hoped to hear: "Thank you."

  * * * * *

  When the third wheel rolled into the drug store, Joel guided Grace to the end of the block, where they began a long, slow walk to the rambler.

  "That's quite a friend you have there."

  "She and Ginny are the sisters I never had – the siblings I never had."

  Joel tried to relate to her situation but could not. Somewhere in Seattle, albeit in a decidedly inconvenient parallel universe, he had a father, a mother, a sister, and a brother. Grace had nothing, except an aunt she seldom saw and a past she wished to bury. Was it any wonder she cherished her friends? Was it any wonder she clung to him?

  They hurried across a busy intersection and then slowed their pace to a stroll. At five o'clock the streets and sidewalks were clogged with people coming and going, but Joel and Grace, friends, moviegoers, and hand holders, maybe more, kept to themselves.

  "You looked nice Saturday night," she said.

  "You look nice every night."

  Grace blushed but kept her eyes forward. She continued down the sidewalk with the stride of a woman who would not be distracted by flattery.

  "Linda said you dance well for a beginner."

  Joel picked up her matter-of-fact tone and tried to lighten the mood. If compliments wouldn't cut it, perhaps humor would.

  "She was being kind."

  "Was dinner nice?"

  "I kept it down."

  "The band?"

  "They missed a note."

  "The lake?"

  "No fishing allowed."

  And so it began. For thirty minutes, Grace asked pointless questions about a dance she did not attend and, for thirty minutes, Joel gave pointless answers about a dance he did. The exchange, at least in Joel's mind, did nothing to bring the participants together. It did a lot to exacerbate their differences.

  "What about you and Katie? How did you spend the night?"

  "We bought some wine and played jazz on Ginny's phonograph."

  "What did you listen to?"

  "Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong."

  "That's good stuff. I'm envious."

  Joel tried to sound envious, but he knew even the best spin would not lift Grace's spirits. No matter how good the vinyl sounded, it was no substitute for a night on the town, in nice duds, with Number One at your side. He knew she wanted to talk about Linda, and only Linda, but he was determined not to be the first to bring her up. Nor was he sure he even wanted to talk about her. He had had a great time and did not want to compound his many lies with more. So he did the next best thing and tried to engage Grace in small talk.

  "How are things at the library?"

  "They're fine."

  "And everything is OK at the house?"

  "Swell."

  Joel looked at Grace and noticed tight lips and eyes that were directed at the path ahead. She seemed annoyed by his questions and definitely distracted. But he could not understand her apparent irritation. If she wanted to discuss something else, including the red-haired, green-eyed elephant in the room, now was her chance.

  "Grace?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you upset with me?"

  "No."

  "I thought you wanted to talk."

  "I do."

  They walked several more blocks in uncomfortable silence. Joel noticed that Grace would not even look at him. Was she frustrated? Upset? Scared? He did not know. He wanted to talk more – he needed to talk more – but he had run out of things to say. As they approached a corner, two blocks from the house, where they usually parted, he used the opportunity to ask a question that had been on his mind.

  "Have you heard from Paul?"

  "I have."

  "How is he doing?"

  "I don't want to talk about him."

  "How come?"

  "Because I don't!" Grace snapped. She stopped on the sidewalk and finally turned toward Joel. "I don't want to talk about Paul or jazz or the library or how I look today or any day. I want to know if you had a good time. I want to know if you like Linda."

  Joel looked at her face and saw frustration, fear, anger, and the answers to all his questions about this remarkable woman. He realized then and there that he was much more than a passing fancy. He had made an impact on Grace Vandenberg, a deep one. But that made her outrage all the more difficult to digest. No matter what she felt for him, she wore the ring of another man. Joel did not like that at all. Nor did he care about sneaking around. Sensing an opportunity to clear the air, he pressed ahead with the kind of candor that would make their relationship or break it.

  "To tell you the truth, Grace, I had a terrific time. It was one of the best dates o
f my life. Linda was damn near perfect. She was charming, gracious, and affectionate. She didn't even have a drink. She wanted to make a good impression on me, and she sure as hell succeeded."

  Joel saw the impact of his reply the second he gave it. Grace reeled like she had been punched in the gut and turned away as her eyes filled with tears. But Joel didn't regret his words. Not one. He knew they would shock. He wanted them to shock. They were the method to his madness. As Grace started to walk away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

  "I'm not finished. Everything I said was true. I had a great time," he said. "But I'd rather go on one walk with you than a thousand dates with Linda."

  Joel drew her in and kissed her like he would never see her again. Grace threw her arms over his shoulders and responded in kind. She buried herself in the embrace of a man who was still very much a stranger and begged him to never let her go. But when she peered past him and saw three college-age women walk up the street, she shook her head and pushed herself free.

  "I can't do this. I'm sorry. I just can't."

  Grace turned and ran. She ran from Joel and ran from the women, back to the house on Klickitat Avenue and maybe back to the safe, predictable, comfortable life she had known before a lonely cowboy from Montana had tipped his hat.

  Joel tried to process what had happened but could not. There was plenty of good and bad to go around in that thirty-second exchange, and he wasn't sure which of the two had the upper hand. Grace's kiss had been the stuff of dreams, her plea for him to hold her music to his ears.

  Yet when Joel thought again about what had transpired and the effect he had already had on several people, he did not hear a symphony. He did not hear bells or whistles or even fireworks. Instead, he heard something ominous, something he had vowed to avoid and could little afford to recklessly invite: the distant but unmistakable sound of thunder.

  CHAPTER 41

  The view from the front seat of the Plymouth was postcard perfect. Beyond and below the pine-covered bluff, sailboats plied Puget Sound like skaters performing figure eights on a sheet of liquid gold. Along the horizon, an egg-yolk sun dropped below jagged, shadowy peaks and painted the summer sky fifty different shades of orange, red, and yellow.