The Mine (Northwest Passage Book 1)

by John A. Heldt

  Tom Carter had driven to Magnolia, a bucolic corner of the city residents shared with Fort Lawton, because he knew it was the one of the few places in Seattle he could see a sunset like this. He put his right arm around Virginia Gillette, loosened a new tie he had worn at dinner, and turned on the car radio.

  "Does it get better than this?"

  "Only in dreams," Ginny said.

  Though the two shared the viewpoint with four other couples parked in the lot, they might as well have been alone. The bluff top was windless, bug-less, and quiet, save the soothing sound of a clarinet in Jimmy Dorsey's "Maria Elena."

  "This song reminds me of the dance. That was a nice evening, Tom."

  "I had a good time. So did our companions, from what I heard."

  "Do you think it's going to work, Linda and Joel?"

  "We'll know by Saturday. We're still on for a movie, no?"

  "We're on. Linda would never forgive me if I backed out now, though I think she's more than capable of flying solo with the cowboy. She's definitely hooked."

  "You're right about that," Tom said, laughing. "But I'm not so sure about Joel. He could have asked her out again, but he hasn't. He stayed home tonight and helped Dad work on some cabinets. I think he's still got a thing for Blondie."

  Ginny poured two flutes of champagne from a bottle between her feet and handed one to the man leaning back in his seat. Staring lazily at the darkening sky and wearing a ridiculously wide grin, he was the picture of contentment. She envied his ability to set aside his cares, both great and small, so quickly and easily.

  "I worry about Grace. Something happened on Tuesday that put her in the dumps. She ran in the house crying and went straight to her room. She wouldn't talk about it at dinner and hasn't said much since."

  "Give her some slack. She'll be better when Paul gets back."

  "You really think so?"

  "No," he laughed. "I just said that to get your mind on me."

  Ginny smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

  "You're incorrigible."

  For another fifty minutes, the odd couple that had defied the odds for three and a half months held each other and enjoyed the kind of scenery that moved poets. They put work, friends, and a troubled world aside and talked of better things, including a future together. Though both spoke of days and weeks, rather than months and years, neither seemed threatened by commitment. Indeed, for two who had traveled alone for most of their twenty-plus years, the concept had wondrous appeal.

  As the music turned to news at the top of the hour, Ginny lowered the volume and reached for the champagne. The bubbly was her idea, as was dinner on the pier. She had wanted to take Tom out earlier, in celebration of his graduation, but had found his dance card increasingly crowded with the arrival of his new best buddy. So she took advantage of a Thursday night that had unexpectedly opened up the day before.

  Tom was about to get out of the car and stretch when he heard a few words on the radio that caught his attention. He reached across the dash and increased the volume.

  "The Clipper hit hard grounders to third in the first and seventh innings, but Cleveland's Ken Keltner denied him each time. The Yankees won four to three. Repeating tonight's top story, Joe DiMaggio's hitting streak has come to an end at fifty-six."

  Tom turned down the radio, took the bottle, and poured himself a second. Ginny turned off the radio, took the bottle back, and poured herself a third. They looked at each other, smiled, and toasted their amazing new friend.

  Joel Smith had just won a thousand dollars.

  CHAPTER 42

  The theater was dark and that was a problem. Without the bellhop usher to lead the way, Joel found navigating the recesses of the Phoenician more difficult this time than the last. The hired help had apparently taken a potty break. But he managed to locate his date with two colas in hand.

  "Here you go," he said, giving up a bottle as he found his seat.

  For the next three minutes he sat in the chair, looked up at the screen, and let his mind wander. He could not help but think of the last time he had visited the theater – with another woman, under different circumstances. It had not been that long ago, but it seemed like an eternity. He felt awkward sitting next to this girl but strangely at peace.

  "Thanks for coming," Grace said.

  Joel smiled.

  "You wrote 'urgent' on the note you left at Carter's. I respond to emergencies."

  Joel had not known what to expect when he entered the Phoenician on Sunday, July 20, only hours after escorting Linda McEwan into the same theater. Grace had not provided any clues. She had simply asked him to meet her in the back row of the balcony during the first show of the double feature.

  "Thanks, anyway."

  Joel glanced at his "date" and did not know whether to laugh or give her a hug. She was at once pathetic and adorable. Sitting prim and proper in a yellow dress she had no doubt worn to church, Grace stared at the screen through white plastic sunglasses.

  "You can probably remove those now."

  She lowered her head, took off the glasses, and looked at Joel for the first time.

  "I should glue them to my face. I've disappointed so many."

  "By many, do you mean you, yourself, and you?"

  "Yes."

  "You haven't disappointed me."

  Joel put his arm around Grace and moved her way, partly to get comfortable for a potentially long sit and partly to provide the reassurance she appeared to need. He relaxed and returned his attention to the first of two movies he had seen the night before.

  "Do you know what you've gotten yourself into?"

  "A terrible mess, that's what."

  Joel laughed.

  "No. I mean the movies today."

  "Are they bad? I hope so. Then I can watch them as penance."

  "They're not bad. But their titles are choice. I assume you read the marquee."

  Grace blushed and held back a smile.

  "I did."

  In the first half of the matinee, actress Deanna Durbin starred in Nice Girl? In the second, Ronald Reagan and Lionel Barrymore supported Wallace Beery in The Bad Man. If God was sending a message, it wasn't subtle.

  Grace and Joel mostly ignored the movies and discussed places they wanted to see and things they wanted to do. Grace talked about Switzerland, skiing, mountains, and snow. Before coming to Seattle, she had seen mostly jungles, savannas, and subtropical plains. Joel talked about Hawaii, the answer to every question. But for three hours the two remained fixed to their seats, as if the Phoenician were the most appealing place on the planet.

  Joel laughed to himself at the thought. For all practical purposes, it was the most appealing place. At this stage of their relationship, they didn't need ski slopes or beaches but rather time alone. Privacy was paradise, and few venues on a campus of ten thousand students offered more privacy than the balcony of a movie theater on a Sunday in July.

  * * * * *

  When the credits of the second film rolled up the screen, Joel and Grace spilled out of the theater and onto the Ave. More than a hundred people gathered under or near the massive marquee, but none were friends or acquaintances. For the first time in two weeks, the Clandestine Hand Holding Club of King County caught a break. The pair took a circuitous route to Klickitat Avenue, making the most of an hour before dinner and warm, sunny weather. The streets were bare, quiet, and inviting.

  "I'm sorry for running away from you the other day. Everything happened so fast and I just wasn't ready to deal with it. I'm still not sure I am. I'm very conflicted."

  Joel put his hand around her waist and pulled her close but remained silent. He did not know what to say. He knew only that he could not stand to be away from her and did not want to lose the momentum from the past week. Unlike Tuesday's walk, Sunday's stroll was peaceful, relaxed, and subdued. Joel asked about Paul and got some answers. Grace asked about Linda and got many more.

  Saturday's date had gone as well as the dance, starting with an
afternoon in Tom's boat and concluding with dinner, two movies, and drinks at the Mad Dog. Linda had not held back this time, ordering two beers and two cocktails, but was otherwise her same captivating self. Joel had spent much of the night wondering what he had done to deserve attention and affection he now knew he could never return in equal measures.

  When the strollers reached their all-too-familiar departure point, Joel led Grace away from the sidewalk to a large oak tree that shaded two Victorian houses. Both homes appeared unoccupied and no residents walked their street or worked their yards. Joel did not want to let her go, but he knew that even ten more minutes together was not an option. Grace had promised Katherine Kobayashi she would be back in time to enjoy an authentic Japanese dinner she had planned for her housemates.

  Joel backed up against the tree, grabbed Grace's hands, and pulled her in. He studied her face for a moment but did not say a word. For the first time since he kissed Tara Schmidt behind the maintenance building of Madison Park Elementary School, he had butterflies in his stomach – big butterflies, like those of the late Mesozoic Era.

  "I love you, Grace."

  Grace smiled, put a hand to his cheek, and met his gaze. She appeared receptive to his message but unsure about how to respond.

  "I know."

  Joel glanced at the ground and then at the girl. Was this a rejection or a rain check? He tried to look cheerful but could not force what he did not feel.

  "That's not quite the reaction I had hoped for. Have I blown it?"

  Grace shook her head. She dropped her hand and took a step back.

  "No. You haven't," she said. "I was just thinking."

  "About what?"

  "About how far we've come in just a few weeks and how I've underestimated you. This ring would have scared off most men, but not Joel Smith. You saw something you wanted and went after it. You do that with a lot of things."

  "Is that bad?"

  "It can be. But, in this case, it was not. I'm glad you didn't give up on me."

  Grace grabbed one of Joel's hands and continued.

  "I'm also thinking about decisions I have to make. Do you work on Saturday?"

  "No. Why?"

  "You don't need to know, not yet. Just be on the corner of Baltic and Forty-Second at seven in the morning. Come alone and bring a hat and a jacket."

  "Why?"

  "No questions. Just be there."

  She kissed him on the cheek and walked out of sight.

  CHAPTER 43

  The early bird rose with the sun.

  Groggy and sore from a night on a non-ventilating trailer mattress, Joel rolled out of bed, took a shower, and ate a bowl of oatmeal over the kitchen sink before any of the Carters stirred like a mouse. Only Max, the family cat, noticed his stealthy exit from 4125 Baltic Avenue. The two-year-old Abyssinian followed him out the door.

  Joel had not heard from Grace since Sunday, when he had bared his soul under an old oak tree and left with little more than a chicken peck and mixed messages. He did not know what this was about or why it had to start so early. He knew only that he had an appointment to keep and that he would not be late. He arrived at the rendezvous point thirty minutes before Grace pulled up in the second most impressive vehicle he had seen that week. The vermillion red 1936 Ford Deluxe V-8 coupe with white-walled tires looked as inviting as its driver.

  "I'm sorry I'm late, but I had to fill up the tank. There are not many stations open at this hour," she said. "I should have done it yesterday."

  Joel peered through an open window at the woman behind the wheel and pondered her apology. He wondered if it was even possible to get angry with her, for tardiness or any other misdemeanor. He laughed to himself and decided it was not. With a light cotton jacket in one hand, he opened the passenger door and jumped in.

  Wearing a white blouse, a green plaid skirt, and a sweater, Grace pulled away from the curb and sped down Baltic Avenue toward East Forty-Fifth Street. From there she headed west to Route 5 and then south at a steady clip of fifty miles per hour. When she finally left the city limits, she gave her captive her full attention.

  "Do you want me to roll up my window? I don't want your hat to blow away."

  "You can leave it down."

  "I bet you're wondering what this is all about."

  "The thought never crossed my mind."

  Grace smiled.

  "You're not going to make this easy, I see." She fumbled with some buttons on the dash as she passed a slow-moving vehicle. "My aunt would disown me if she knew what I was doing. This was my uncle's pride and joy, the one he left her when he died, and I'm not supposed to take it out of the city, particularly with strange men in cowboy hats."

  "Am I strange?"

  "You are very strange, but that's part of your charm."

  "I see."

  Grace took a deep breath.

  "In any case, I want you to know that there is no reason to be alarmed. You're not being kidnapped, at least in the formal sense," she said. "I just thought that before I burn any bridges I should get to know you better – away from campus, away from the theater, away from Seattle."

  With those words, Joel sighed with relief. He never doubted Grace's interest. But he also knew that he'd have to do more than grab her interest to convince her to break off her engagement to a United States naval officer.

  "Do you often kidnap strange young men and take them out of the city?"

  "No. You're the first."

  "That's good. You had me worried for a while," Joel said, conceding silently that he was still susceptible to the Stockholm syndrome. He got comfortable in his seat. "I like this car. You say it was your uncle's?"

  "He bought it a month before he died, five years ago. My aunt returned it to the dealer and tried to get his money back. She explained that she didn't drive and had no use for a car, but he would give her only half of what it was worth. So she held on to it."

  "And handed you the keys."

  "No. It's still her car. But I've been able to drive it since my freshman year. I used to come home, to her house, on weekends. It was more convenient than the alternatives."

  "You mean the bus?"

  "The bus, walking, hitching."

  "You used to hitch rides?"

  "I still do on occasion."

  "Grace, that's insane."

  "Why?" she asked, with grin that suggested she was pleased she had found a subject that interested, even irritated, him. "Is it because I'm a poor, defenseless female?"

  "Yes! There are a lot of crazies out there who would love to do bad things to good people, particularly poor, defenseless – and very pretty, I might add – females like you."

  "Have you ever hitched a ride?"

  "Just once. I got stuck outside an abandoned mine."

  "See. You survived."

  "I did. But the guy who gave me a lift was a Buick dealer, not an ax murderer."

  "And you, of course, can tell the difference."

  Joel sighed, shook his head, and smiled at the lovable, quick-witted woman at his side. He had clearly met his match. He stared ahead at a remarkably uncluttered highway and tried to figure out what Grace had up her sleeve.

  "By the way, Miss Vandenberg, seeing as you're kidnapping me and all, don't you think you should tell me where we're headed?"

  "There," she said, pointing to the southern horizon.

  "Puyallup?"

  "No. There. The mountain."

  CHAPTER 44

  Grace nailed her target, on the first attempt, with pinpoint accuracy. The orange-sized snowball, formed with great care on a trail high above Paradise Inn, hit Joel on the back of his right shoulder as he emerged from a grove of young pines.

  "What the . . ."

  "That's for scaring the forest creatures. There are restrooms, you know."

  He ducked as another ball came screeching in.

  "And that's for turning your back on me."

  Spotting the belligerent at twenty yards, Joel formed three balls and
commenced a barrage of his own. He hit Grace in each leg and the chest.

  "Would you like more?"

  "Yes!"

  For the next fifteen minutes, Grace gave as well as she took. She hid behind rocks and threw what she could when she could and ran squealing from her defenses when the return fire from the bad man in the cowboy hat became a little too hot.

  The experience brought back pleasant memories of her seemingly distant youth – memories of hide-and-seek in the streets of Usumbura, of Tumbang Preso on the lawns of Luzon, and of mud fights along the Yangtze. But even in those special places she could not experience the sheer joy of a snowball fight in July. Above six thousand feet in Mount Rainier National Park, she could.

  Disappointed that the snowfields at Paradise, one of the snowiest places on earth, had succumbed to summer, Grace had insisted that Joel take her to higher ground. After a thirty-minute hike up a well-traveled path, she had found what she had come for.

  "OK. That's enough. I give," Joel said when he realized his aim was no match for her limitless enthusiasm. "If I fight any longer, you'll put me in the hospital."

  Emerging from two boulders and the high ground for the last time, Grace walked down a thin patch of snow and approached her prisoner with an ear-to-ear grin. She put her arms around Joel and kissed him on the cheek.

  "Thank you," she said. "You made my day."

  From the battleground on the edge of the snowline, they walked down the trail to Uncle George's favorite toy and retrieved a large wool blanket and a picnic basket. Joel had offered to buy their meals in the historic hotel, but Grace would have none of it.

  "I invited you, remember?"

  So they hiked from the mile-high lodge up a less-traveled path to a meadow with an unobstructed view of the 14,410-foot peak. After giving the site a quick inspection, they spread the blanket on a flat spot bordered by daisies, cinquefoil, lupine, and aster.