The Mirror (Northwest Passage Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  "That's funny?"

  "No. The solution is funny."

  "I don't get it."

  "What's the solution to every problem, Katie?"

  "I don't know."

  Ginny stared at her sister.

  "What's the solution to every one of our problems?"

  Katie laughed.

  "I'll get my purse."

  "No," Ginny said. "I'll get mine."

  Ginny got out of her seat and grabbed her sweater on the back of the chair.

  "Today, the ice cream is on me."

  CHAPTER 49: GINNY

  Friday, July 3, 1964

  Ginny watched closely as Rick Jorgenson, age sixteen, passed up instant riches in business for a college education and ended up a teacher pulling a salary of eight thousand dollars. She smiled when she saw him park his green plastic car on an undesirable space and shake his head.

  "Eight thousand?" Rick asked. "Is that all teachers make?"

  "That's all – unless they invest wisely or gamble on the side," Ginny said. She smiled at the boy who would become her great uncle. "You'll get a chance to do that later. Just be careful."

  Ginny scanned the other faces at the dining table and saw three different expressions. Katie grinned, of course. She was enjoying this LIFE moment as much as her twin. Cynthia Jorgenson didn't smile. She stared at the game board like a chess master evaluating all of her possibilities up front. Joan Jorgenson, eleven, looked like a girl who was both intimidated by the game's complexity and delighted that she had been asked to play with the big kids.

  Joanie spun the plastic wheel. When it stopped on the number nine, she put her hand on an orange car and stared at Ginny with eyes that said she was as lost as a polar explorer.

  "What should I do?" Joanie asked.

  "Let's see what your choices are," Ginny said. She counted nine spaces in two directions. "It looks like you can either find a uranium deposit or become a doctor. If you do the first thing and take the hundred grand, you'll be rich right out of high school. You'll be seriously popular for a while and probably have a lot of fun."

  "I like that," Joanie said.

  Katie laughed.

  "There's a downside though," Ginny said. "If you blow all your money, then you won't have anything to fall back on. On the other hand, if you become a doctor, then you'll at least have a steady income for the rest of your life."

  "Go to college, Joanie," Virginia said. She brought a plate of brownies in from the kitchen and placed them on the table. "The road to ruin is paved with quick riches."

  Joanie glanced at her mother and then at Ginny.

  "Is it really?"

  "Usually," Ginny said.

  Katie laughed again.

  "If I go to college, can I still put kids in my car?" Joanie asked.

  Ginny nodded.

  "Yeah. You can. Your husband might quibble about the number, especially if it gets close to double digits, but you can still put kids in your car."

  Joanie beamed.

  "I want to go to college then!"

  Ginny smiled when she thought of the irony. She didn't need a board game to know how the lives at this table would turn out. Rick would, in fact, become an educator in a few years, and Joanie would, in fact, become a physician. She would become one of the best neurosurgeons in the Northwest and have enough kids to fill a station wagon. Whether Cindy married a sailor in the game remained to be seen. In real life, however, Frank Smith was waiting.

  Ginny guided Joanie and Cindy through the first third of the game and then turned her attention to Virginia when she pulled up a chair and sat next to her. Nana held a cup of coffee in one hand and a current copy of the Seattle Sun in the other. She unfolded the paper and pointed to the headline at the top.

  "Did you see this today?" Virginia asked.

  "I read part of the story this morning."

  "The president signed the Civil Rights Act last night. It's going to change things for a lot of people in this country," Virginia said. "It's going to change things for your friend at the store. What's his name again?"

  "His name is James," Ginny said.

  "Well, life is about to get better for James. I only hope that those who stood in the way of this bill finally realize that we all stand to gain when we treat each other as equals."

  Ginny nodded but didn't say anything. She knew things would get worse before they got better, starting with the families of the missing civil rights workers in Mississippi. In just a matter of days, the story of the trio's disappearance had grown into a national obsession.

  "Has James said much about this?"

  "No. He doesn't talk about it at all," Ginny said. "James stays away from politics. He'd much rather talk about baseball or music."

  "I see."

  "I'm working on him though. I talked him into marching for fair housing next Saturday. We'll all going to participate – Katie, Mike, James, and me. I think it's important."

  "I do too," Virginia said. "The Sun is going to play it up big. We've assigned two reporters to cover the march."

  "Do you need someone to take pictures? I'd love to take pictures of that."

  "You can if you want, but you don't have to. Our best photographer will be there. So will an intern who, like you, has demonstrated a lot of promise with a camera. Just enjoy yourself. This is one time when you'll be able to make a bigger difference participating in an event rather than recording it."

  "Are you going to be there?" Katie asked.

  "I won't, unfortunately," Virginia said. "I'll be in Port Townsend covering an arts festival. I rarely work on Saturdays, but I've decided to make an exception next week."

  Virginia sipped her coffee.

  "Speaking of Saturdays, what are you ladies doing tomorrow? We're going to Lake Union to see the fireworks and would love to have you join us."

  "I'm not sure what I'm doing," Ginny said. "Steve is picking me up at five, but he hasn't told me where we're going. I think he wants to watch the fireworks from his house on Lake Washington. He said his family usually has a big party on the Fourth."

  "What about you, Katie? What are you doing tomorrow?"

  Katie blushed.

  "I'm not sure either. Mike hasn't told me."

  Virginia laughed.

  "Well, well. It seems you two are dating a couple of mystery men."

  Katie smiled as she spun the game wheel.

  "In any case, my offer stands. If you decide to join us, come over around six," Virginia said. "We usually leave right after dinner to beat the traffic."

  "Your offer is tempting," Katie said. "I'll let you know if we decide to tag along."

  Ginny laughed to herself as she listened to her sister. She knew damn well Katie wanted to watch the fireworks from the back seat of Mike Hayes' Impala, but she also knew that she hated to disappoint people. Unless Mike was adamant about parking in the dark, he and Katie would spend Independence Day with the Jorgensons.

  Ginny was tempted to make a wisecrack about Katie's plans when Cindy announced to the world that she had just given birth to a bouncing baby boy. She picked up a blue peg and placed it in the back seat of her white convertible.

  "It's about time," Cindy said. "Joanie has five kids and she's not even in middle school!"

  Ginny laughed.

  "What are you going to name him, Cindy?"

  Ginny's question pulled in Katie and Virginia like a magnet.

  "I don't know. Are we supposed to name the kids?"

  "You don't have to," Ginny said. "I was just curious what you might call him."

  Cindy glanced at her mother.

  "What should I name him, Mom?"

  "That's up to you, dear. That's one of those decisions only a mother can make."

  Cindy stared at the game board and then looked at each of the twins.

  "How about Bud?"

  Katie smiled and put a hand on Cindy's arm.

  "How about not?"

  Ginny and Virginia laughed.

  "What about
Joel?" Ginny asked. "What do you think of that name, Cindy?"

  Cindy furrowed her brows and scrunched her lips together as if giving the matter the greatest possible thought. When she finally returned her attention to the older gals at the table, she did so with bright eyes and a wide smile.

  "I've never thought about that name, but I like it. I like it a lot," Cindy said. "She pulled the blue peg from her plastic car and held it up. "From now on, your name is Joel."

  Katie joined the laughter.

  "Good job, Cindy," Ginny said. "Good job."

  She put a hand on Cindy's shoulder and smiled.

  "I can already feel the love."

  CHAPTER 50: KATIE

  Thursday, July 9, 1964

  In nineteen years on God's green earth, Katherine Smith had come to the conclusion that a lot of things were overrated. Proms and midnight movies were overrated. So were sushi, football, Pilates, and social networking sites.

  In the spring and summer of 1964, however, she had determined that passionate kisses were not overrated. If Mike Hayes pressed his lips to hers a thousand more times between now and September, it would be a thousand times too few.

  "You look happy," Mike said.

  He lowered his arms from Katie's shoulders to her waist.

  "I'm very happy," Katie said.

  Katie put her arms around Mike's neck as he leaned against a massive cedar tree on the west side of the campus. When he responded with a smile, she kissed him lightly on the lips.

  Mike took a deep breath.

  "I love you, Katie Smith."

  Katie smiled sadly at her fellow courtesy clerk and then turned to face a campus green, where dozens of students, including more than a few couples, walked to and from their summer-session classes. She envied the men and women who could share moments like this and know that they could share them again and again for the rest of their lives.

  "I love you too," Katie said.

  Mike put his hands on her face.

  "Do you really?"

  Katie broadened her smile.

  "Yes, really. I think I've loved you since you first stared at me with those puppy-dog eyes and dropped a cantaloupe on that poor lady's eggs," she said. "I figured that anyone who did that over me had to be worth meeting."

  Mike laughed.

  "You noticed?"

  Katie nodded.

  "So did Ginny. She called you Cantaloupe Boy until she learned your name."

  They both laughed.

  "I guess that's what happens when you get distracted," Mike said. He sighed. "You're very distracting."

  Katie acknowledged the compliment with a soft smile and then glanced again at the men and women strolling nearby. Though some walked in silence, most engaged in lively conversations. When she saw the last of these couples leave the scene, Katie grabbed Mike's hand and pulled him away from the tree.

  "Let's walk."

  "Walk where? We just got here," Mike said.

  "I know. I just want to walk for a while."

  "All right. Where do you want to go?"

  "Let's walk through the campus. I haven't seen much of it since I arrived and want to see more," Katie said. She gazed at Mike. "I also want to talk to you."

  "You mean the guy you've been talking to all morning?"

  "Yes, him."

  "Oh."

  Mike glanced suspiciously at Katie. When she raised an eyebrow in return, he tightened his hold on her hand and led her to nearby Fifteenth Avenue, which divided the campus from the rest of the university district. A moment later, the two began strolling south toward Portage Bay.

  "Where are we going?" Katie asked. "This isn't the campus."

  "No, it's not. It's the scenic route. I have a feeling this is going to be a long conversation, so I think we should walk around the university rather than through it."

  "What I want to talk to you about is not bad, Mike. I'm just curious about a few things."

  "Are you going to ask me about my dad?"

  "No. Patsy told me everything I wanted to know," Katie said. "The person I really want to talk about is your grandfather."

  "Why him?"

  "I have my reasons. Mostly, though, I just want to learn more about him. Patsy told me he was a skilled woodworker – one of the best in the world, in fact."

  "She got that right," Mike said.

  "Was he a good grandfather? Was he good to you?"

  Mike stopped for a moment and looked at Katie with solemn eyes.

  "Yeah, he was good to me. He was a good grandfather too. He's the man who raised me, at least until he died. I loved him. I miss him. What more is there to say?"

  Sensing a trace of defensiveness, Katie put her arm around Mike's waist and pulled him close. She had succeeded in getting him to talk about his past and didn't want to shut any doors.

  "You could tell me a little about his work. Patsy said he made fancy frames for things like paintings and mirrors. She said that was his specialty."

  The two continued walking.

  "That's an understatement," Mike said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that's all he did toward the end. He used to make things like dressers and tables, but he found he could make more money by making frames. Half the art lovers in town have one of Grandpa's frames in their house. I'm not kidding either."

  "I believe you. Did you ever work with him?" Katie asked.

  "No. I just watched. When I was in middle school, I would visit his shop twice a week to watch him work. I just pulled up a stool and observed. There were a hundred other things I could have done, but all I wanted to do was see him turn wood into art."

  Katie brightened when she heard the words. She could picture the scene. She could imagine a lonely, directionless boy gravitating toward a father-like figure after losing his real father – first figuratively and then literally.

  "What about the mirrors? Did he make a lot of those? Patsy told me he was known mostly for his mirrors."

  "He was," Mike said. "He used to frame these huge mirrors, the kind rich people put in their bedrooms. He sold most as wedding presents. More than two hundred people were on a waiting list for his mirrors when he died."

  "Wow."

  "Yeah. Wow."

  "Patsy told me that he had only one child – your dad," Katie said.

  "Yep. Just one. He didn't turn out so well."

  Katie squeezed Mike's hand to show support but didn't say a word. She just walked in silence with a person she was beginning to understand and appreciate as never before. A few minutes later, when they turned off of Pacific Street and headed north on Montlake Boulevard, she broke the silence with a question that suddenly seemed important.

  "Patsy told me a lot of things about your grandfather, but strangely enough she never told me his name," Katie said. "What was his name?"

  "It was Michael," Mike said. "That's another thing we had in common: a name."

  Katie felt her stomach twist when she heard the words. She loved that Mike had been named for such an important man, but she found the coincidence unsettling. She knew now that she had to ask one more question, even if it meant getting an answer she didn't want to hear.

  "Patsy didn't tell me your grandmother's name either. She said only that she was a wonderful woman who had died giving birth to your father."

  Katie paused for effect.

  "What was her name?"

  "Grandpa called her Kat," Mike said. "So did most people. Grandma apparently went by that name her whole life."

  "Oh."

  "Kat wasn't her real name though."

  "It wasn't?" Katie asked.

  "No. Her parents named her something else. I know that because she wrote her christened name in the family Bible."

  Katie took a breath. She knew what was coming.

  "What did she write in the Bible?"

  Mike stopped and stared at Katie until she met his eyes.

  "She wrote Katherine," he said. "My grandma's real name was Katherine."
/>   CHAPTER 51: GINNY

  Saturday, July 11, 1964

  As Ginny marched with James, Katie, and Mike down Second Avenue in downtown Seattle, she was struck by the absence of violence and the near absence of noise.

  The marchers conducted themselves admirably. Unlike many of the protesters Ginny had seen in twenty-first-century newscasts, the participants did not light up garbage cans or overturn cars in support of their sports teams. Nor did they break windows or pick fights or taunt police to protest perceived economic or political injustices.

  They instead walked silently in suits and ties and dresses for nearly two miles and let their presence do the talking. Representing the spectrum of age, gender, and race, they were serious individuals with a serious cause who had learned from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and others that the way to change minds was to change perceptions with quiet, steely resolve.

  Ginny was struck as well by the reception from the hundreds of spectators who lined the street. Though a few hurled epithets or held ugly signs, the vast majority nodded or clapped or watched in respectful silence. Most in Seattle seemed to understand that times were changing and that they needed to change with them. If discrimination did not affect them directly, it affected someone they knew.

  In less than thirty minutes, Ginny's preconceived notion of a sixties protest had been turned on its head. She smiled over that bit of personal growth as her group approached the intersection of Second Avenue and Pine Street.

  "Are you doing OK, James?"

  "I'm feeling less like a rabble-rouser than when we started, if that's what you mean."

  Ginny laughed and grabbed his hand.

  "You just stick with me. I'll protect your reputation."

  James smiled, looked at Ginny, and shook his head.

  "You're bound and determined to make me a new man, aren't you?"

  "No. I'm bound and determined to bring out the real you."

  Ginny tightened her hold on his hand.

  "I know you care about this stuff, James. Just because you're not comfortable expressing yourself in public doesn't mean you don't care. I know you do."

  James nodded.

  "Yeah. I guess I do. You're something, Ginny Smith. You know that?"