The Mirror (Northwest Passage Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  "The other reason is because I'm a big chicken. I don't have the guts to tell you now, but I will. I'll tell you everything and hold nothing back."

  "You promise?"

  "I promise."

  Katie sighed and gazed at Mike.

  "Now, I want you to answer a question for me."

  "OK."

  "What is the other thing that's bothering you?"

  Mike smiled sadly and stared blankly at the fountain.

  "I was hoping you wouldn't ask."

  "Is something else going on with your mom – or with Patsy?"

  Mike shook his head.

  "No," he said. "I'm afraid this one's all about me."

  "I don't get it. What's wrong?"

  He turned to Katie and stared at her with the saddest eyes she had ever seen. They had dropped a notch even on the walk.

  Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope that had already been opened. He removed a piece of paper from the envelope and handed it to Katie.

  She took one glance at the sheet and closed her eyes.

  "That was my reaction too," Mike said. "I have to show up for a physical on September 21. There are no ifs or buts to this, Katie."

  Mike sighed.

  "I've been drafted."

  CHAPTER 71: GINNY

  Friday, August 28, 1964

  Ginny turned off the television, grabbed a cup and saucer near her sister's lounge chair, and walked to the kitchen. She normally insisted that Her Cleanliness pick up her own dishes, but she didn't want the place to look like a mess when James came over.

  She knew she had more important things to obsess about, like how she was going to say goodbye to Nana, Cindy, and the staff at Greer's, but that didn't make this any less important. She wanted to make a good impression on a young man who now meant the world to her.

  Ginny loaded the cup and saucer in the dishwasher and turned the knob to the right setting. When the appliance began to hum and fill with water, she wiped the counters and rinsed out the sink. She was about to pick up the broom and sweep the floor when she heard the doorbell ring.

  "I'll be right there, James," she shouted.

  Ginny ran into the bathroom and primped her hair one last time before walking briskly to the front door. She knew it probably wasn't a good idea to get worked up over someone she'd be leaving in ten days, but she didn't care. She wanted to enjoy every last minute with him.

  When Ginny reached the door, she saw socks on the floor and kicked them behind Katie's chair. When she opened the door, she said, "Sorry, I'm late," and stared at the man who had come for her. Only the man who had come for her was not the man she had expected or wanted to see.

  "What are you doing here?" Ginny asked.

  "I want to apologize," Steve said. "Can I come in?"

  Ginny pondered a question that pitted common sense against her values. She wanted nothing to do with an old boyfriend, particularly on the cusp of a date with his replacement, but she was a forgiving person and forgiving people sometimes did things that didn't make sense. After a moment of thought, she opened the door wide.

  "You have five minutes."

  She let Steve in, closed the door without latching it, and followed the future law student into the living room. When he stopped in the middle of the room, she walked past him to the space between the chairs. She did not want him to feel comfortable enough to take a seat.

  "OK. Say what you have to say."

  "All right, I will. I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm sorry for behaving badly the other day, I'm sorry for not respecting your privacy, and most of all I'm sorry for taking you for granted. I'm really sorry about that. I saw you as a possession and not a person. That was wrong. I apologize."

  Ginny looked at his face and tried to gauge his sincerity. Two months ago she would have never questioned his word or his character. Two days ago she would have considered both beyond repair. Now, she simply didn't care. So she decided on the course that might get him out the door before James Green came wandering in.

  "Your apology is accepted. Now, please leave."

  "I will after I say one more thing."

  "What's that?" Ginny asked.

  "I want you back."

  "You can't have me back."

  "Please," Steve said. "All I want is a second chance. I know I screwed up, but I've learned from my mistakes. I'll do better, Ginny. I promise. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you."

  "I'm sure you mean that. I really am. The problem is that I don't want to be 'kept.' I don't want to date you, I don't want to talk to you, and I really don't want you in my living room right now," Ginny said. "So, if you don't mind, will you please leave?"

  Steve's pleading expression turned into a scowl.

  "It's the black kid, isn't it? You traded me in for the hired help."

  "I won't dignify that with a response."

  "What's the deal? Is he better in bed?" Steve asked.

  Ginny seethed.

  "He's ten times better."

  Steve slapped her across the face.

  "You're a liar."

  Ginny exploded inside as a dozen different emotions, including anger, fear, and shock, swirled through her body. She could not believe a guy nearly twice her size had struck her with his hand. What kind of monster was he?

  "Get out."

  "What's the matter, Ginny? Don't you like it rough?"

  "Get out, you bastard."

  Steve slapped her a second time, sending Ginny reeling backward. When she got to her feet, she rushed forward in an attempt to reach the door. Steve stopped her and threw her to the floor.

  "I don't think you're showing me sufficient respect. We may have to work on that."

  "Get out!" Ginny screamed. "Get out!"

  She started once again to move past Steve but stopped when she heard a creak. She glanced at the door and saw James holding a bouquet of daffodils.

  "Ginny?" James asked. "Is everything all right?"

  Ginny shook her head. Tears rolled down her face.

  "I think you'd better leave, mister," James said.

  Steve turned around.

  "I think you'd better mind your own business."

  "I said leave," James said forcefully.

  "Take a hike, Buckwheat!"

  James didn't wait for an invitation to intervene. He charged Steve just as he turned to face Ginny and knocked him into the television set. When Steve stood up, James punched him in the mouth and then the stomach. When he got up again, James hit him again.

  The punches, however, did little more than inflame the collegian. When he picked himself up a third time and came after the courtesy clerk, he came prepared. He came in low and caught James in an indefensible position between Ginny's chair and a corner of the room. He pushed him violently against the wall and landed repeated blows to the face.

  Ginny ran into the kitchen and called the police. She couldn't believe it had come to this. She couldn't believe that the charming, considerate man she had dated could be capable of so much hate and violence. When she finally got the ear of a dispatcher, she reported a crime in progress.

  She did not stay on the phone. When she heard the sound of something breaking, she rushed back to the living room, where James and Steve – bloodied and beaten – continued to inflict wounds on each other amid broken glass, scattered flowers, and overturned furnishings.

  Seeing no other recourse, Ginny ran across the street in search of help. She pounded on the door and waited for Virginia or Joe or anyone to lend a hand. When no one came to the door, she rushed back to Unit A and saw that matters had gone from bad to worse.

  In the two minutes she had been gone, Steve had again gained an advantage. He had pinned James against the wall and had commenced a new attack with hard blows to the ribs and gut. When Ginny saw Steve wear James down and begin to work on his face, she decided to act. She jumped on Steve from behind and pulled his hair as hard as she could.

  Her intervention, comical and ineffective at first, slowly tu
rned the tide. She managed not only to distract and annoy but also to inflict significant pain – enough to convince the aggressor to set his sights on his smaller, equally determined opponent.

  The vital assistance bought James all the time he needed to catch his breath, regroup, and come after Steve with a vengeance. He attacked him relentlessly, throwing punches to the jaw and cheeks that proved to be destabilizing and disorienting.

  Ginny maintained her hold on Steve until he wobbled backward toward the sofa. When he staggered again and finally dropped to his knees, she let go of his hair and backed off.

  James did not back off. He exploited his newfound advantage to the fullest, hammering the intruder again and again until he fell to his side and appeared to lose consciousness. He then jumped on Steve and hit him a few more times for good measure while challenging him to wake up and "come back for more."

  Seeing that the fight had come to an end, Ginny stepped forward and pleaded with James to stop. She asked him to get off Steve and let him be, but her words fell on deaf ears. He continued to shove and taunt as if determined not only to immobilize his opponent but also to strip him of his dignity.

  James didn't stop when Ginny asked him a second time or when Nana entered the residence and demanded that he stop. He sat and punched and taunted even after Joe Jorgenson rushed through the door and started to pull him away.

  Only when two others came onto the scene did James finally let up. He got off of his prostrate foe, lifted his arms, and backed away. What Ginny and others could not do in a minute, two policemen with service revolvers had done in seconds. At seven thirty-five, it was over.

  CHAPTER 72: GINNY

  Saturday, August 29, 1964

  Ginny sat on one end of Cora Green's couch and gazed at the woman on the other. She could see pain and fear in her eyes and maybe a few things she didn't want to see.

  "How is James holding up?" Ginny asked.

  "He's scared. He's really scared," Cora said.

  "Can you get him out on bail?"

  "We're trying. We've been trying all morning, Ginny, but the other family is fighting it. They don't want him out – not now, not ever."

  "I don't understand. James came to my rescue. He's a hero, not a criminal. If anyone should be in jail, it should be Steve Carrington."

  "That's not how the police see it. They say James started it and James finished it. He's looking at aggravated assault."

  Ginny dropped her head as she digested the words. She couldn't take issue with Cora's point. James had thrown the first punch, not to mention the last dozen. He had beaten Steve to within an inch of his life, but he had done it to protect a young woman from a beating of her own.

  "Have the police actually charged him with anything?"

  "No," Cora said. "That's the good news. They want more information before they charge anyone."

  "What more do they need to know? I told them everything last night."

  "They don't believe you, dear. They think you're lying to protect James. They think he caught you with the Carrington boy and went off."

  "He hit me, Mrs. Green. Steve hit me twice!"

  Cora stared at Ginny in a way that made her uncomfortable. If Cora didn't outright blame her for James' predicament, it was clear that she held her at least partially responsible.

  "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

  "I did this morning. Why?" Ginny asked.

  "Did you see marks on your face?"

  Ginny sighed and sank in her seat.

  "No."

  "The police didn't either," Cora said. "What they see is a girl who went out with two boys at the same time and didn't tell one about the other. They think you're holding something back."

  Ginny stared at Cora.

  "Do you think I'm holding something back?"

  Cora gave Ginny another hard stare and then started shaking her head.

  "No. I don't. I think it happened just as you and James said it did."

  "Thank you," Ginny said.

  "Don't thank me. Thank my boy. He's the one who saved you."

  "I will when I get a chance to see him. I'm so grateful for what he did and so sick that he's being treated this way."

  Ginny glanced again at the mother of six and wondered what was going through her mind. She couldn't imagine the fear, pain, and sadness she felt, but she could certainly see it in the form of tears that welled in her eyes.

  "I don't know what we're going to do," Cora said. "If this goes to trial, James is going to go to prison. I know it. You know what juries do to black boys who beat up white boys. They send them away, that's what. He's going to prison."

  Ginny winced when she heard the certainty in Cora's voice. She hated seeing her anguish and desperately wanted to help her. Then she remembered something she had all but forgotten and realized that she could.

  "Maybe not," Ginny said.

  "How can you say that? If that family pushes this, so will the police. You know James won't get a fair trial. He won't."

  "I don't think it will come to that. I really don't."

  "That's easy for you to say."

  "I know. I don't mean to downplay his predicament, Mrs. Green. I know it's serious. It's very serious, but I think there's a way out of this."

  "What's that?"

  "I can't tell you. I think it's best you didn't know."

  Cora leaned forward and stared at her guest.

  "Is what you're planning illegal, Ginny?"

  "I'm not sure. I don't know the law."

  "Is what you're planning wrong?"

  "No," Ginny said forcefully. "It may be illegal, but it's definitely not wrong. Trust me when I say that God's got my back on this one."

  CHAPTER 73: GINNY

  Monday, August 31, 1964

  The fear set in almost as soon as she stepped inside the downtown law firm of Carrington, Pierce, and McCain. Ginny saw the names of no fewer than thirty attorneys on a wall directory.

  She had no doubt that each and every one, starting with the partners, could squash her like a bug, but she also knew this was something she had to do. James was still in jail, facing a felony charge, and needed help in the worst way.

  "I'm here to see Mr. Carrington," Ginny said to a receptionist.

  "Is he expecting you?"

  "He is.

  "What is your name?"

  "Ginny Smith. I have a three o'clock appointment."

  The receptionist made a quick call, asked a few questions, and returned to the visitor.

  "Mr. Carrington's office is on this floor. I'll take you there."

  As Ginny followed the attractive, well-dressed woman down a long hallway, she wondered whether every visitor got a guided tour of the palatial law firm – or just the unwashed waifs with high-school diplomas. She could literally feel the receptionist's condescension.

  When they reached their destination, the receptionist opened the door and announced the visitor. When Richard Carrington motioned with his hand for Ginny to come in, she walked through the door and took a seat in front of the desk and placed her belongings on the floor.

  "That will be all, Candice," Richard said.

  The receptionist left the room.

  "Well, Miss Smith, I can't say it's a pleasure," Richard said. "You're the last person I expected to see or wanted to see today, but I assumed from your phone call this morning that you had something important to say."

  "I do, Mr. Carrington. I won't need much time."

  "Say your piece then."

  Ginny sat up in her chair and braced herself for hell.

  "I heard that a prosecutor charged James Green with felony assault this morning."

  "You heard correctly."

  "I also heard that you're very good friends with that prosecutor."

  "I am."

  Ginny took a breath.

  "I'd like you to persuade your friend to withdraw the charge."

  Richard laughed scornfully.

  "I thought you might ask me that."

>   "So you'll talk to him?"

  "No, Ginny. I won't. I won't talk to the prosecutor, unless it's to ask him to file additional charges. I plan to do everything in my power to see that Mr. Green goes to prison. I also plan to seek damages, on Steven's behalf, to cover his medical expenses and pain and suffering. I'm afraid things are going to get much worse for your friend before they get better."

  Ginny felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She hadn't heard about a possible lawsuit. James was in far more trouble than she had thought.

  "Please, Mr. Carrington. I'm begging you to reconsider. Let's not make this personal."

  "It's not personal, Ginny. It's a matter of law. Your friend nearly murdered my son. That's against the law in Washington. When you break the law, you go to jail. You know that."

  "I do know that," Ginny said. "I also know that Steve showed up at my apartment uninvited Friday night, asked me to come back to him, and smacked me twice when I told him no. That's against the law too."

  "You can't prove he hit you."

  "You're right. I can't. But I can prove something else."

  "What's that?" Richard asked.

  Ginny took a deep breath.

  "You have a girlfriend, sir."

  "Excuse me."

  "I said you have a girlfriend. She's pretty too."

  "I'd like to see you prove that."

  "What? That she's pretty? I think we both agree that your receptionist is pretty."

  "You'd better tread carefully."

  Ginny tried to calm her stomach as she stared down one of the most powerful attorneys in the state. When she felt she could continue, she reached for a large manila envelope she had placed next to her purse on the floor. She opened the envelope.

  "If you read the Sun, Mr. Carrington, you probably know that I took some pictures for the paper this month. One of the editors sent me on an assignment to take photos of people and landscapes at Snoqualmie Falls."

  "I'm aware of that, yes."

  "Then you may also know I was at Snoqualmie Falls on July 27."

  "I didn't know that."

  "I shot five rolls of film that day. I gave four to the Sun and kept the fifth. Some of the pictures from the fifth roll are in this envelope. Would you like to see them?"