The Mine (Northwest Passage Book 1)

by John A. Heldt

  Then Joel glanced at a small wire story that shook him to his core: SIX PLANETS TO ALIGN IN DECEMBER. He pushed his coffee aside and let his head fall to his hands. He did not need to read the article to know the details or what they meant to him. But he read it anyway. The story was the answer to a question that had dogged him for months.

  WASHINGTON – Six planets, including the Earth, will fall into a rare alignment early next month in what scientists are calling a once in a lifetime astronomical event.

  Beginning late December 7 and continuing though most of the next day, the Earth and the moon will align with the sun and Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Viewers in the Northern Hemisphere will be able to see at least part of the celestial arrangement both evenings with the aid of a telescope.

  Last seen in 1882, the six-planet alignment will not occur again until May 2000, according to Dr. James Branson of the National Center for Physics and Astronomy.

  Within seconds memories from a long ago May came flooding back: the cable news story at the Canary, the dusty mine shaft, the glowing room, and the improbable journey through fifty-nine years. If Joel had any doubts that the places and events were tied to his predicament, they were gone. But questions remained. Did Colter Mine have a revolving door? And if it did, would it spin in seven days?

  Joel tore the small article from the page, placed the paper on the table, and popped out of the office into the cold, misty air. Sunlight filtered through gray clouds to the east, bringing a badly needed glow to an otherwise dismal morning.

  Walking westward toward a rocky, driftwood-strewn beach fifty yards away, Joel began a conversation with himself that would have seemed inconceivable even minutes earlier. He thought of Grace and Tom and a Japanese strike force that lurked in the North Pacific, and then of Jana and Adam and his family. He thought of all the things that tied him to two worlds and the likely opportunity that awaited him.

  He had the chance to go home.

  * * * * *

  The question of whether to try was a no-brainer. Of course he would try. He had nothing to lose, save a few dollars, by traveling to Montana and finding out whether the mine was a time machine full of promise or a dark hole full of rock and debris.

  The question of whether to take Grace was another matter. Bringing her made perfect sense to someone who cared only about himself. He had no doubts that she would willingly make the trip. She was as committed as he was. She would follow him to the ends of the earth. But did he have the right to take her? Did he have the right to deprive Edith Tomlinson of a beloved niece; Virginia Gillette, Katie Kobayashi, and others of a lifelong friend; and future children and grandchildren of their right to exist? She was, after all, supposed to marry someone else.

  He considered her professional interests as well. Did he have the right to deprive Grace Vandenberg of the life she was meant to lead? Or deny countless students in the forties, fifties, and sixties an inspiring teacher? An instructor who might push young lives in positive, important, even critical directions? He wondered if Grace had an Einstein or Edison or Salk in her future.

  As he stepped gingerly on slick rocks, soft sand, and loose wood, Joel also asked hard questions of himself. Was this really about Grace? Or was it about his refusal to man up, like his grandfathers, father, Tom Carter, and countless others, and serve his nation when it needed him most?

  The option to stay, of course, was always on the table and would become more than something to mull over if the mine turned out to be a simple hole in the ground. Joel would have to either serve or run and accept the consequences of his actions.

  He could do what Patrick Smith had done on December 8, 1941, and enlist. But how strange would that be, serving in his grandfather's war? Would he storm the same beach in 1944 and take a bullet meant for someone else? Then there was Ginny. Could he possibly stick around and watch her life and his mother's unfold over the next several decades? Could he imagine watching his younger self grow up? Was that even possible?

  Joel did not find life with Grace in the 1940s unappealing. He had come to appreciate the relative simplicity of the times. But if he stayed and served, there was no guarantee they would have a long and happy life together. It was just as likely he would be killed in a firefight in Europe or the South Pacific and die for a cause whose outcome had already been decided.

  He struggled with what course to take on his hour-long walk on the sandy shore, finding that an activity that had proved so therapeutic on Tuesdays with Grace was providing little comfort now. Knots and nausea gripped his otherwise strong stomach as he walked up the narrow path from the beach to the motel.

  When he got to the room, he entered quietly, took off his coat, and sat at a table by the window. At nine o'clock, Joel found Grace exactly as he had left her: sleeping, smiling, and perfect. For another hour he studied her angelic face and considered all the questions and possibilities of the coming days.

  But each time he did, he came back to the same place: the unfamiliar ground of the honorable, the selfless, and the righteous. Clarity that had escaped him on the walk and for the past several months suddenly pounded on his door. His course was clear.

  I have to give you up.

  CHAPTER 60

  When Joel delivered the news to Mel Carter, he saw a grimace and then a nod. He knew the boss had already lost a good salesman, his son, to the Army, and did not want to lose a great one for any reason, particularly during the Christmas shopping season. But Joel also knew that Mel had promised to help bring the Smith family together in any way he could, making his leave request an academic exercise.

  "If things go poorly, I'll be gone only a few days," Joel said, offering a line he had rehearsed all day. He straightened his posture on the living room couch and addressed his supervisor and adopted father figure as thoughtfully as he could. "But if they go well, I'll want to stay there for Christmas."

  The furniture king settled into his reclining throne and put a hand to his chin. He said he was glad Joel had announced his plans at the house, after a satisfying roast-beef dinner, rather than at the store. He would have been less receptive to the news at a place that had struggled to meet the needs of two hundred consumers on an unusually busy Monday.

  "I understand, son. Family is more important than work, particularly this time of year. The way I see it, you don't have a choice."

  "Will you be able to hire extra help?"

  "I think so. I put an ad in the paper last week and have already had several replies. There is no shortage of young men looking to make a buck. None have your ability, of course, but I don't think they'll need it. Not in December. Customers this time of year usually have their minds made up when they walk through the door and just need someone to fill out the paperwork."

  "Well, like I said, if I come back early, I'll do what I can to help you out."

  "I appreciate that."

  Baltic Avenue had been the second stop on his farewell tour. He had informed Grace of his plans the day before, on their drive back from Whidbey Island. Like the Carters, she approved of his trip to Montana, even if it meant Christmas without him.

  Joel hated deceiving people he cared about, but he did not know a better way to prepare them for what might be a permanent exit. If he did not return from Helena, they would understand. At least he hoped they would.

  The plan he had sketched out was simple. He would work at Carter's through Friday, treat the girls to dinner and drinks that night, take a taxi to King Street Station Saturday morning, and catch the first train to Montana. He would enter the mine on Monday. If it sent him back to 2000, he would grab the first ride home. If it did not, he would return to Seattle, marry Grace, if she would have him, and enlist in the Navy.

  Joel considered driving Tom's Plymouth to Helena, for the sheer experience and to eliminate the need for a cab on Monday morning, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Six hundred miles was a long drive on potentially icy roads and he did not want to create undue hardship on the Carters should he
leave the car behind.

  He also pondered flying. Though only fourteen years had passed since Charles Lindbergh had crossed the Atlantic, commercial aviation was as common as rain. A twenty-one-seat aircraft left Seattle for points east every night at eight forty. But the puddle-jumping flight did not arrive in Helena until well after one in the morning. A daytime train ride through the scenic Northwest had far more appeal. He would collect his thoughts in the comfort of a roomy sleeping car and save his third freight-hopping adventure for another day.

  The only difficult task was deciding how to part with Grace. She deserved the truth, the complete and unvarnished truth. But he would not tell her the truth before he left and could not tell her afterward if the mine sent him home. So he resolved to write a long, meaningful letter and entrust it to Ginny, with the explicit instruction that she not give it to Grace before Christmas.

  When the ornate moon-phase clock on the mantle chimed seven times, Joel got off the couch, walked to the corner of the living room, and grabbed his jacket off an oak coat rack. He put it on, checked a pocket for his keys, and returned to face his hosts.

  "I should probably get going. I told the girls I'd stop by tonight. Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Carter. As usual, it was the best."

  Sandra Carter acknowledged the compliment and smiled as she and Mel got out of their chairs and walked their visitor to the entry. She said she had missed cooking for Joel, just as she no doubt missed cooking and caring for her grown children, who in September had left her with a conspicuously empty nest.

  "You're always welcome here, Joel – for a meal, a place to stay, anything," Sandy said. "We've enjoyed being a part of your life. Have a safe trip."

  Joel stepped forward and hugged her for several seconds. When he pulled away, he noticed that her eyes were teary and wondered why. Was it residual emotion from the day at the armory or something else? Did she see what was coming? If there was one person in Seattle besides Grace who could read his face, it was this perceptive mother. Maybe she knew this wasn't so long but goodbye.

  He zipped his coat, grabbed a plate of chocolate-chip cookies Sandy had baked on Sunday, and turned to Mel. He offered a hand to the boss, who looked resigned.

  "Can I count on you tomorrow?" Mel asked.

  "You can. There's no need for a day off this week. I'll be there at eight, if not earlier." Joel started to step toward the door and then stopped. "There is one other thing. What would you like me to do with the car? I won't need it after Friday."

  "Keep it at your place and park it in the driveway," Mel said. "I have another set of keys if I need to use it."

  "Sounds like you have it covered," Joel said as he wrestled with the awkwardness of the moment. "Well, I guess I'm out. If I get the opportunity, Mrs. Carter, I'll stop by before I leave. You never know when I might need to do laundry."

  Sandy brightened.

  "Just drop it at the door and I'll take care of it. It's no bother."

  Sandy straightened the collar of Joel's jacket and tightened the foil on his plate. When he turned and walked toward the door, she followed and spoke one last time.

  "Joel?"

  "Yes."

  "Will you leave us an address?"

  Joel cringed. He could not believe he had not covered that base. He had no Helena address, unless he counted the flophouse. But then, there was a lot to remember when you lived a lie. He would not miss having to cover his tracks at every turn.

  "I don't think that will be necessary. I don't plan to be gone long. If I stay more than a few days, I'll put something in the mail. I promise."

  He meant it too. Where he would send that something, however, was a bit of a problem. Even the U.S. Postal Service did not deliver postcards to the past.

  CHAPTER 61

  The Mad Dog was as quiet as a graduate of obedience school.

  Ginny, in fact, had never seen the place this empty on a Friday night. But then, she had never seen the tavern compete with the Senior Ball, the biggest social event on the university's calendar. Hundreds of the school's upperclassmen had already left campus for the black-tie event at the Olympus Hotel.

  "It's really nice of you to do this, Joel," she said. "It seems every time I turn around you are coming to the rescue of one of us."

  "It's my pleasure. I should have done this earlier. But the timing is good, no?"

  "It is very good," Katie said. "Who needs the ball anyway?"

  Ginny winced. She wanted to say, "I do," but held her tongue. She would have loved nothing more than to be dancing with Tom, rather than thinking about how he was handling basic training fifty miles away. She had received a letter from him every day, but even the best letters were no substitute for personal contact. The Army had cheated her of the highlight of her senior year.

  Katie had had the opportunity to go. A Japanese American friend had asked her to the ball late Thursday night. But she said he seemed more interested in finding a last-minute dance partner than striking up romance, so she politely declined.

  Grace had discussed the ball for weeks, but when she finally asked Joel to go, on the Sunday drive back from their island escape, he declined. He had said he wanted to get a good night's sleep Friday before taking an early train to Montana the next morning.

  Ginny wondered whether that decision had anything to do with Grace's absence at the table. She had accepted Joel's invitation for dinner but backed out at the eleventh hour to put the finishing touches on a collaborative academic project that apparently could not wait for the weekend. When Ginny and Katie had left for the Mad Dog, Grace headed for an off-campus residence eight blocks away.

  "When are you going for Goldilocks?" Ginny asked.

  "She'll be done at eight, and I'll pick her up then," Joel said. "So I have at least a couple of hours with you lovely ladies. Have you figured out what you want to eat?"

  "I think I'm going with the pork chops," Katie said.

  "The fish looks good," Ginny said. "Why don't you go ahead and order for me? I have to go to the ladies' room and might be a while."

  "Take your time."

  Ginny slid out of the booth and walked slowly to the other side of the establishment, where ornate wreaths and strands of colorful lights adorned a wall and holiday music streamed out of a console radio. She said something to a waitress in a red fur-lined dress and a matching cap and then disappeared around a corner.

  * * * * *

  "She hasn't felt well lately," Katie said. "The separation with Tom has ground her to bits. I've never seen her this way."

  "How's Grace doing?"

  "She's just the opposite. She has been in good spirits since Thanksgiving. You must have had a terrific time at Aunt Edith's."

  "Yeah, we did," Joel said, thinking of an afternoon and an incredible evening that already seemed in the distant past.

  "It's funny how things work out," Katie said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean you and Grace. I would have never guessed all of this when we first met. You belonged to Linda. She had all but picked out the monogrammed napkins."

  Joel laughed.

  "How come you never offered to go to the baseball game when she got sick? I would have been happy to take you. We would have had a good time."

  "Oh, I know so. I wanted to go too! But I knew Linda would get better soon, and I did not want to stand in the way of that charging bull. So I made up an excuse."

  Katie's eyes lit up as she recalled her one and only opportunity to go out with Joel Smith. She said she had wanted to tell him for weeks but also appeared sincere when she told him that things had worked out for the best. Katie resumed the conversation after Santa's helper took their orders.

  "You've made Grace very happy. When she got back from Whidbey Island she told me that she was done looking. That's it. No more. She said she could not imagine another man in her life. She loves you very much."

  Joel winced when he heard the words. He was in way over his head. Dumping Grace now would leave serious
scars. He revisited the seemingly impeccable logic that had driven him to this point and wondered if it was too late to reconsider.

  Then he heard a conversation in an adjacent booth that made him think of something else, something far more pressing. Two male students debated the inevitability of war with Japan. Joel saw Katie frown when one raised his voice.

  "Don't let them get to you. They're just scared. Everyone's scared."

  "I'm OK. I don't think anything could be worse than the other night. I really appreciate what you did for me. Not everyone would have done that."

  Joel nodded but did not respond to the comment. He instead pulled a sealed envelope out of his jacket pocket and gave it to Katie. Twenty-five one-hundred-dollar bills resided inside.

  "I want you to hold this until I get back."

  "What is it?"

  "I'd rather not say. Whatever you do, don't lose it. Keep it in a safe place. If I return by next week, I want it back. If I don't, it's yours. I know you'll put it to good use."

  "It's a mystery. I love it!" she said.

  Joel offered a thin smile. Deciphering mysteries would soon be the least of Katie Kobayashi's concerns. But he did not want to spoil her moment.

  Ten minutes later the waitress put three dinners on the table and the boys in the next booth took off. Katie eyed the vocal one closely as he bolted out the door.

  "I'm not sorry to see them leave," she said.

  "Neither am I," Joel said. He fidgeted in his seat, sipped his beer, and focused on his friend. "Katie, I want you to promise me something."

  "What's that?"

  "Don't lose your faith in humanity."

  "I don't understand. Why would I do that?"

  "Because sometimes stuff happens that can test that faith. Sometimes good people do bad things for reasons that don't make sense. But it doesn't mean you should give up on them. I want you to remember that, now and in the years to come."