The Mine (29 page)

"Good job. Someone needed to shut his trap."

Both men laughed.

Joel smiled, put a hand on Tom's shoulder, and stared blankly toward the parking lot, as if revisiting the many laughs and experiences they had shared. A moment later he looked back at his friend, pulled a set of keys from a jacket pocket, and held them up.

"You still trust me with your car?"

"I do. Because I know you'll take care of it and I know you'll have fun with it," Tom said. "And if, by some miracle, they send me home tomorrow, I know I won't have to hunt you down to get it back."

"I'll have it washed and buffed if that happens."

The sound of an air brake shifted their attention to the next block, where the bus to Tacoma stopped for a sign.

"Well, I guess I should hurry up. I've got more important mugs than yours to see," Tom said with a laugh. He embraced his friend. "You're the best, Joel. I mean that. Take care of yourself and take care of my girls."

* * * * *

The cowboy gave as well as he got, giving Tom a firm hug before finally letting go. He paused to look at his pal. It was amazing how easy it was to like this guy.

Joel wasn't one to get caught up in the moment, in any moment, but this farewell hit him hard. He was not only saying goodbye to a dear friend but also allowing fate and history to take their course. For weeks he had considered pushing Tom into enlisting in the Coast Guard or even the Navy to shake things up. But he knew it wasn't his place to play God and knew that he had already overstepped his bounds with Grace. So he sent Tom on his way with the only words that made sense.

"Come back to us," he said. "Make your family proud. Don't be a hero."

Joel watched his housemate move down the line to his quiet father, teary mother, and attentive fiancée, who straightened his collar, put a small photo in his hand, and followed him to the bus. Tom began speaking to Ginny as they reached the door.

Joel could not make out their conversation, but he saw the concern on her face. He thought of his Grandpa Joe and all the years he had seen him interact happily with his wife. He could not imagine anyone taking his place in the hierarchy of men in the life of Virginia Gillette. Yet as he watched Tom Carter say goodbye, he wasn't so sure. There had been someone else, before Joe Jorgenson, and he had been pretty damn important.

Minutes later the door closed and the bus, loaded with more than fifty inductees, slowly pulled away from the curb. Sitting in a window seat three rows back, Tom waved to his family, blew a kiss to Ginny, and gave Joel a half-hearted salute. His family and friends waved back. They never saw him again.

CHAPTER 59

Freeland, Washington – Sunday, November 30, 1941

Joel opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Though little light spilled through a crack in the curtains of the motel room, there was enough to make out water stains on the tiles, an overhead light hanging by a thread, and a small spider working its way toward the wall. The place was a dump. But Joel had wanted privacy and few places offered more than the Agate Inn on the southwest corner of Whidbey Island.

Groggy from a sleepless night, he threw on some jeans and a wool sweater and walked across the room. Parting the curtains slightly, he peered out the window and saw a bank of fog drift eastward over Admiralty Inlet. Dawn had come to Puget Sound.

Joel looked back at the bed and saw Grace pull a blanket over her shoulder and smile as she repositioned her face on a pillow. She was still asleep and very much lost in another place. He envied her ability to rest and dream and think about happy things. He tried to remember the last time he had seen something that beautiful.

They had come to the motel Friday night after work and school, at his suggestion, and checked in as Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Joel had loved the irony. By using his real name, rather than a plausible alias, he had needlessly invited additional scrutiny and judgment. But he no longer cared what strangers, like motel clerks, thought of his personal decisions. He cared only about escaping the lifeless house on Fifty-Second Street and spending more time with Number One.

The days following Tom's departure had been quiet and businesslike. The Army had taken him, of course, and had already sent him to Fort Lewis for processing and basic training. Ginny had returned to her editing position at the
Barker
, Grace and Katie to their classes, and Joel to his responsibilities matching Seattle's most restless sleepers with Carter's most restful mattresses. But nothing was the same without the jovial joker who had held their little group together for almost six months.

Deciding to let Grace enjoy literally her last peaceful Sunday morning for the next four years, Joel put on his coat and quietly exited the room. He walked across a gravel parking lot to the motel's office, where he found the manager reading a weekend edition of the
Sun
. Joel poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the lone table in the lobby.

"Can I read that when you're done?" he asked.

"You can have it now, if you want," the thin man in spectacles said. "I've got to get back to work. Did you sleep well?"

"I did," Joel lied. "It's very quiet here."

"That's what we advertise."

Joel pictured his dilapidated room and juxtaposed that image with an ad he saw in a telephone book. He understood why the owners had promoted peace and quiet over cleanliness. He'd have done the same. But he was in no mood to complain. He needed a mental break from the city and the Agate Inn had delivered. He took the
Sun
from the manager and retreated to the table and his coffee.

"Thanks for the paper."

The headlines reflected the state of the world: TOKYO DEFIES U.S. ULTIMATUM, RED ARMY CAPTURES ROSTOV, BRITISH SINK EIGHT GERMAN SHIPS IN ARCTIC CONVOY. In other articles above the fold he learned that Navy had defeated Army, that Oregon State had won a trip to the Rose Bowl, and that Westlake had pounded Polk in the state semifinals. Joel laughed. Even in 1941 football held its own in the mainstream media.

From other pages he learned that ski conditions were improving across the state, that tuberculosis was on the rise, that an Idaho miner faced a bigamy charge, and that
A Yank in the R.A.F.
had been held over at a downtown theater. Another advertisement touted a "French permanent" for two and a half bucks.

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.