Angel Smits - A Message for Julia p.02

Mike was the most desperate to get out. Linc grabbed his lamp. The battery was
low but he had to risk it. Mike had been gone too long.
He looked around for the meter but didn’t see it. Mike must have taken it with
him. Damn. He picked up his breathing apparatus, hoping he wouldn’t find any bad
gas, but prepared in case he did.
Linc trekked down the narrow incline, moving in a hunched duck walk. The pace
was slower but one they all did automatically now.
“Mike?” he called as he reached the end of the tunnel where the vent system came
down. In the faint glow of the lamp, he saw a form huddled beside what looked
like a mangled pipe.
As he drew closer, he saw the ball-peen hammer Ryan had found earlier. It was
poised in the air, ready to strike. The hammer hit once, twice, seven times. The
peal echoed in the chamber, almost harsh before the walls swallowed the sound.
“Mike?” Linc called softly. Startled, the young man spun around. The tracks of
dampness on his cheeks glistened in the light.
“What happened?” Linc hurried to him.
“They’ve got to find us. They got to.” Mike’s voice hitched. “My kid’s coming
soon. I gotta be there. I can’t leave Rach to do it all by herself. I just
can’t.”
Mike’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. In that instant, he heard the
voice of the man kneeling beside him—and his father’s voice echoing across time.
Had his father spoken similar words into that other dark cavern? Had he done as
Mike was doing, desperately raging to escape and return to his family?
The anger Linc had carried for years—since his sixteen-year-old self had blamed
his father for leaving them—took a fatal blow. All at once he could focus on the
man he’d loved and joked with. The man who had taken his sons fishing, thinking
it was the thing to do, despite the fact he hated to fish.
Fiascos of the past suddenly became warm memories of a man trying to be a better
father than his had ever been.
“Mike?” Linc squeezed the other man’s shoulder. “You need to rest. We’ll all
take turns doing this. My turn now.” He took the hammer and rapped out the
seven-beat tune just as Mike had done. “Go rest.”
Linc took the gas meter from Mike’s hand and put it back on his pack, where it
would stay. He checked it and found the gauge indicated a slight elevation.
Time was no longer on their side.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Friday Morning, 7:00 a.m.
ONCE AGAIN, JULIA STOOD at the opening of the tent, staring out across the wide
valley. She and the other family members had been stuck in this moth-eaten tent
for what seemed like ages. It had been less than a full day.
They were close enough to see what was happening at the mouth of the mine, but
far enough to keep them from interfering with the activities.
She paced, feeling the cool morning breeze on her face, smelling the rich odor
of the newly churned earth. Earth that separated her from Linc, the man she’d
been married to for seven years. Her breath caught as the day registered. If she
thought about that too much she’d lose control. She had to do something. She
turned toward the entrance, propelled by frustration. She intended to run down
into the valley and help with the rescue efforts.
Shirley Wise’s low voice broke into Julia’s thoughts. “Getting in the way won’t
help.” Julia looked over to see the older woman blowing on a steaming cup of
coffee.
“I wasn’t going to—”
“Yes, you were.” The woman smiled, not warmly, and tentatively sipped the brew.
“You were about to head down into that valley where all those men will focus
more on protecting you than on saving our men.” The accusation was sharp and
direct.
Julia wanted to deny it, then decided not to bother. She didn’t have the energy
to argue right now. Why didn’t Shirley like her? Maybe she’d learned of Julia’s
background as a mine-owner’s daughter. That animosity was generations in the
making and she’d faced it many times in her life. The only other thing Julia
could think of was the incident with Ryan. She and Shirley had only crossed
paths a half-dozen times since she and Linc had moved here, but nothing else
came to mind.
“Shirley, what did I ever do to make you dislike me?” Julia spoke her thoughts
before thinking.
“Why…I…I don’t dislike you.” Shirley didn’t look Julia in the eye, which was the
first clue that she was lying. “Maybe dislike is the wrong word. But you
definitely don’t trust me.”
Shirley took a deep swallow of her coffee and Julia was surprised she didn’t
wince. It had to be hot. Finally, she met Julia’s gaze. “You shake things up.
You’re the kind of person who comes in and makes changes.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Julia couldn’t think of what she’d done that might
have had any direct impact on Shirley or Gabe Wise.
“There’s plenty wrong with that.” Shirley’s voice rose, then, looking over her
shoulder at the crowd behind them, she took a deep, calming breath. “Boys in
this town have been going to the mines to help their families for decades.”
Ah, so this was about Ryan. “Just because it’s always been done, doesn’t make it
right.”
“Humph.” Shirley drank again, her eyes narrowed toward the horizon. “It’s not up
to you to decide that. You’ve done enough damage. Don’t you do anything that
puts my husband in more danger.” Without waiting for Julia to respond, Shirley
sank back into the confines of the tent, leaving Julia alone to stare after her
in shock.
In one aspect, Shirley was right. Julia had never been the type to sit back and
accept the status quo. She’d always questioned and wanted to make things better
for people. She didn’t think she’d ever been militant or pushy, but she did prod
and work at something until she got what she wanted. Obviously, that had upset
people.
She couldn’t regret it, though. When it came to Ryan, or any of the other boys
she taught, she’d do the same thing all over again. Maybe if they’d listened to
her, Ryan wouldn’t be trapped right now, possibly dead.
Shirley’s warning not to interfere warred with Julia’s panic and the need she
felt to do something to help. She turned away from the view of the valley, away
from the temptation of the rescue effort, and went back inside. Shirley was
right. Those workers would try to take care of her, and they couldn’t afford
that distraction.
But she had to do something. The soft patter of raindrops hit the canvas and she
watched tiny rivers fall down the plastic windows in the sides of the tent.
Struggling against despair, she pulled her gaze from the quickly dampening world
to look around the makeshift room.
There were six other women here whose men were trapped below. Friends and
relatives grouped together around the others, whispering and trying to keep
their words unheard.
Julia was the only one here alone. Her parents were on their way from
Philadelphia, or at least that’s what they’d said. She glanced at her watch.
They should arrive in about an hour. But they weren’t here yet.
She’d always thought she wanted to be on her own. To be independent. Since
meeting Linc, she’d forgotten how lonely alone could be. In the past few days,
in that empty apartment, her anger had kept the loneliness at bay. Now she felt
it circling her.
“Be careful what you wish for.” She heard a voice that sounded too much like
Linc’s, as if his ghost were whispering on the wind.
“No.” She almost screamed, afraid that thinking such a thing would somehow make
it true.
Whether it was the cold of the rain, or the chill of her own thoughts, she
shivered and wished for warmth, for someone’s arms to hold her.
Could she and Linc fix what was wrong between them? Would he ever hold her
again? The thought hurt and she choked back a gasp. She realized that, over
time, she’d taken his presence, his touch, him for granted. Once, when their
relationship was young, she’d desperately wanted him and his touch. She’d have
done just about anything to get it.
Now, she’d walked away from everything.
Friday Morning, Seventeen Hours Underground
LINC SAT AT THE EDGE of the shelter. The others were nearby, but he felt alone.
He pulled the heavy helmet off his head. He wore it often, but not all day like
the other guys. It strained his neck and shoulders. His hair was damp from sweat
and he raked his fingers through it, trying to ease the grimy feeling. What he
wouldn’t give for a shower right now.
He must look like hell, but what did it matter? He shifted, trying to get more
comfortable. Once again his thoughts turned to Julia.
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back. He rubbed his hands over his face,
hoping to wipe off some of the grit, as well as to wipe the hurt from his
features.
Now, when he was staring his mortality in the eyes, he kept forgetting that he
was angry with her.
That she’d lied to him.
That she’d left him.
He needed to hang on to that anger because what if she wasn’t up there waiting
when he got out of here? What was he supposed to do then?
How was he supposed to rebuild his life without her in it? He couldn’t return to
the emptiness he’d faced after she’d left. But would he even have a choice?
After she’d lost the baby he’d tried to help her. Like taking her away to that
cabin for a long weekend. Time had passed. He’d thought she was better.
Obviously she wasn’t, if she’d switched jobs. What had she said? Something about
not being around the little kids.
She hadn’t even told him at the time. Maybe she’d been like him. Unsure what to
say, knowing that any thing said at that moment would have far-reaching
consequences.
What had happened to them? She’d completely changed her life without even
bothering to ask his opinion or discuss it with him. When had she grown so
distant?
He’d always thought she leaned on him, counted on him. He’d always wanted to be
there for her.
But apparently she didn’t need him anymore.
“Help me out here!” Gabe’s voice brought Linc abruptly back to the present.
Casey was thrashing in his sleep. Robert grabbed his arms, and Linc helped the
older man stabilize his injured leg again. They were all panting from the
exertion when they were finished. Casey settled back to sleep and Linc slumped
against the wall.
The arguments and rift between him and Julia returned to where it should be…a
lifetime ago, maybe even someone else’s lifetime. If—no, when—they got out of
here, he had a hell of a lot of work ahead.
Friday Morning—9:00 a.m.
“WHERE’S MY LITTLE GIRL?”
Julia cringed at her father’s bellow. At twenty-nine, she wasn’t anyone’s little
girl, but subtlety had never been Raymond Alton’s strong suit, and now was no
exception. She sagged a little with relief that her parents were finally here
and she didn’t have to be alone—then she tensed up again in anticipation of the
baggage they brought with them.
Her parents had seldom hugged her. They’d been too busy, too distant, too
uncomfortable. So she was shocked when her father swept her into a strong
embrace. She heard her mother’s anxious voice and felt her feather-light touch
caressing her hair.
Julia closed her eyes and let herself sink into their ministrations. She let
herself believe, for just a while, as she had when she was a child, that Mom and
Dad could fix everything.
Her eyes burned and the ache in her throat intensified. She knew that if she
started crying now, she might never stop. She fought the temptation and pulled
back to look at her parents. It had been months since she’d seen them. They
looked older, worried. Was this too much for them? They were both in their
sixties.
“What’s happening? Fill us in.” Her father guided her to a chair and sat down
beside her. Her mother, Eleanor, absently rubbed her shoulders. She’d forgotten
that her mother used to do that when she was a child. It felt good. What else
had she forgotten?
Instead of letting her thoughts go down that path, she focused on her father’s
question. “We don’t know much. There was a cave-in and Linc was down with a crew
on the second shift. They hadn’t been down long.”
“Gas?” he asked softly. They all knew he meant the deadly methane that plagued
all coal-mining operations.
“They don’t know.”
His curse was soft, not meant for her to hear, but spoken aloud, nonetheless.
“Let me see if I can get some answers.” He started to stand.
“Dad. Please.” She recalled Shirley’s animosity and grabbed his arm to stop him.
She wasn’t sure it was a good idea for him to be throwing his weight around. Not
yet anyway.
“What?” Raymond looked at her hand, a strange, surprised look in his eyes.
“This isn’t your mine, nor your operation. We’re one of the families this time,”
she whispered and regretted each word when his shoulders slumped as if in
defeat—or as if some weight had been settled there. “Just be here with me for
now, okay?”
“We’re here for you, sweetheart.” Her mother slipped an arm around her
shoulders. “Whatever you need from us, we’re here.”
The catch in her mother’s voice and the sheen in her father’s eyes combined was
nearly too much. Julia and her parents had had their troubles, but all that
seemed forgotten now. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said.
“You can and you will.” Raymond sat up straighter. “The Altons have weathered
plenty of storms. We’ll get through this one.” His bravado and certainty—a
certainty she’d always found arrogant before—gave her the extra nudge she
needed. She leaned into her mother’s shoulder and said something she doubted
she’d ever said to them before. “Thank you.” She was surprised at how easily she
could turn to them.
Just then, Patrick Kelly and the two other men came back in. Their eyes were
bloodshot in their coal-blackened faces.
Her heart sank and she appreciated her parents’ timing. Here it was. The news
they’d all been expecting. Thank God her parents were here. They’d pick up the
pieces.
She knew she couldn’t.
CHAPTER NINE
Friday Afternoon, Twenty-Four Hours Underground
THEY LEFT THE LAMP from Casey’s hard hat turned on. Linc had extinguished his
own, just as the others had, to save the batteries. Casey was finally quiet, the
pain of his injuries rendering him oblivious to his surroundings. A good thing
for him right now.
They took turns sitting with him. Linc kept his thoughts to himself, but as he
approached the injured man, he found himself holding his breath. Please God,
don’t let me find him dead.
“Is he any better?” He expected Gabe to look up when he approached. Instead, the
older man simply shook his head and stood. The darkness swallowed Gabe as he
slowly walked away. Linc settled down at Casey’s side.
“He’s taking the responsibility for all of this on his shoulders.” Robert’s
disembodied voice echoed Linc’s thoughts.
“None of this is Gabe’s fault.” Linc struggled to keep the suspicion out of his
voice. “Unless he did something he wasn’t supposed to.” Someone must have done
something—mines didn’t just collapse for no reason. What, he didn’t know. He
wasn’t sure if he’d ever know.
“You don’t get how it works down here, do you?” Robert stepped forward and into
the dim circle of light. Anger and shadows contorted his face. His hands were
fisted at his sides.
Linc had run up against miners hostile to inspectors before. Nothing new there,
but it frustrated him that Robert couldn’t set it aside now. He held on to his
desire to vent his frustration. Did the others feel the same way?
“Oh, I get it.” Linc stood, not willing to give the other man the advantage of
looming over him. “I get that the mine owners send good men like all of you down
here to bust your butts. And for what?” He stepped toward Robert. “Nothing but
obscenely low amounts of money.”
“It’s more than that.” Robert took a step forward, too. “It’s a way of life.
It’s the backbone of the energy industry that keeps this whole damn country
running.”
“You actually buy the crap they shovel at company meetings?”
“I buy. I believe. It’s who I am. It’s who we all are. You aren’t one of us and
you’ll never understand.”
“I understand plenty.” Linc’s voice lowered as his throat tightened. “I grew up
with the mines. My father was just like you. Just like Gabe. He believed it all,
too.”
Robert didn’t speak but continued to glare.
“Until two tons of rock fell on him and his whole crew.”
Still, Robert remained silent. Linc wanted him to understand his position,
probably as much as Robert believed in his own convictions.
“Then you dishonor him and his death working as an inspector,” Robert said.
Linc clenched his jaw and forced himself not to shout. “You’re treading on
dangerous ground.”
“And? You can speak your mind, but I can’t? You’re a stranger here. This is my
world.”
“Hey.” Gabe appeared in the small circle of light. “You two cut it out. You got
problems with each other, deal with them later.”
What if they didn’t have later? Linc wondered, but held his tongue. He respected
Gabe too much.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Linc tried to purge his system of the
anger. He’d always been quick to react—or overreact, as Julia often reminded
him.
Robert disappeared into the darkness, and Linc heard the rustle as he settled on
the other side of the chamber. Gabe looked at Linc, but didn’t say a word. His
expression was unreadable. Censure or sympathy? “It’s my turn to send the
signal.” Gabe turned with a shrug and headed toward the pipe.
Seconds later, seven peals of metal on metal broke the ungodly quiet.
Linc sat back down. Was he an outsider? While he fought the idea, it took hold
and refused to let go. What bothered him most was the realization that his
father probably would have agreed with Robert. He’d been a company man through
and through.
Closing his eyes, Linc shoved aside Robert’s accusations, his father’s memory
and this whole damned situation. Lord, he was tired, but just as on every night
since Julia had left him, he couldn’t sleep. Why couldn’t he just let go? She
was the one who’d lied. The one who had walked out.
He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, letting the pressure drain out
the ache.
Why did he still want her? Was he such a fool that he let her take advantage of
him?
What else had she lied about? He ignored that can of worms. Was she right now
sitting at the house, waiting for him to die so she could avoid the hassle of a
divorce?
He groaned, letting his anger replace the fear of dying.
But even his anger at the situation, at Robert, or with Julia couldn’t keep her
image from forming in his mind. An image that all too easily morphed into
something different.
Instead of yelling at him, she was smiling. Instead of seething at her, he was
reaching out, touching the soft copper waves of her hair.
He wanted to hate her, wanted to forget what it felt like to love her, but he
couldn’t.
His life was entwined with hers. He’d been the first to make love to her. She’d
given him her virginity on a hot summer night in the dew-cooled grasses of
Hamilton Park.
She’d looked so incredibly beautiful as she lost herself in passion. If he was
going to die, he wanted that to be his last image.
They’d made love hundreds of times in the years since then. It had never lost
its magic. Never.
Friday Afternoon, 3:00 p.m.
JULIA WATCHED AS Patrick Kelly came into the tent with two men that she hadn’t
seen before.
Patrick was a big man, with a receding hairline and wide green eyes. The other
men easily rivaled him in height.
So far, he’d stuck to his word and hadn’t “blown smoke up their asses.” He’d
admitted that he might not always have the answers they wanted, but he would
have answers.
Julia stayed where she was, though several of the other family members moved
closer. The tent wasn’t so vast that she couldn’t hear him. She felt her
mother’s hand tighten on her shoulder and saw her father sit up a little
straighter.
“The ventilation drill is about a third of the way down to where we think they
are.” A third of the way in what—Julia glanced down at her watch—twenty-four
hours? At this rate, how could they possibly break through in time?
Patrick paused as if not wanting to share the rest. Everyone held their breath.
“I told you I’d be honest with you and I’m keeping that promise.” He paused.
“We’ve got water rising on the east side. Jim here is in charge of the pumps,
and we’ve started all of them. We’ve got more pumps coming in from the Griffin
Mine and the White Water operations. They’ll be here sometime before midnight.”
Jim nodded as if to confirm what Patrick was telling them.
Julia felt for them. Patrick’s heart was clearly in his eyes. He’d been in the
mines for years himself. Of everyone, he knew what they were really up against.
The fact that his voice held an edge of panic didn’t do much to reassure the
rest of them.
Voices erupted around her, but Julia could only stare blankly ahead. Could it
get any worse? The small group of men left as quickly as they’d arrived, letting
them all absorb the news. Julia pulled the numbness back over herself as she
felt her mother move to stand close beside her.
“You need to eat something, dear.”
Eleanor Alton was definitely out of her element here. There were no committees
or activities to organize. Just sitting and waiting. Julia was having a tough
time with it and her mother was surely nearing her limit. She couldn’t recall
her mother ever being still this long.
Julia stood and went to get more coffee. She’d had enough caffeine to last her
the rest of her life, but she didn’t want anything to eat.
At the back corner of the tent, she found a quiet place to sit, momentarily. It
was less crowded as three families had returned home—at least for a little
while. Those who’d stayed were silently waiting for the next report.
The very thought of going home to the dark and empty house alone sent shivers up
Julia’s spine. But what if she eventually had to? What if after all this effort
by all these volunteers and rescue workers, they weren’t able to save them?
Her stomach was in knots, but rather than give in to her fears, she stood and
paced some more. It helped ease the tight muscles but even so, the emotions
hovered nearby, waiting to pounce.
Rita Sinclair sat on a folding chair near the makeshift podium. Her crochet hook
moved quickly and several hanks of yarn were nestled in a basket at her feet.
The light flashed on the metal hook as she added to her swatch.
“What are you making?” Julia asked.
Rita smiled weakly and shrugged. “I don’t really know, but I can’t just sit.
I’ll go crazy.”
“That helps?”
“Yeah. When Jack was hurt six years ago, he was in the hospital for weeks. My
crocheting was nearly thirty feet long when I finished.”
They both laughed and Julia wished she had something like that to distract
herself.
“Would you like to do some?”
“Oh, I don’t know how.”
Rita patted the seat next to her. “I always come prepared.” She reached into her
bag and pulled out another hook, a little bigger than the one she used, and a
bright blue skein of yarn.
“Make a loop like this.” Rita took the yarn and gently guided Julia’s hands
through the first few stitches. “Now just keep going.”
And so they sat, Rita making smooth rows of multi-colored crochet and Julia
building an uneven pile of blue loops.
It did help. The concentration required distracted her and the movement of her
hands eased the need to get up and walk.
“I taught my eldest girl to do this when she was pregnant and on bed rest.”
“Did it help her?”
“I guess. That grandbaby has enough blankets to last her till she’s eight.”
Julia laughed…then all the joy faded as the image of baby blankets soaked in.
She knew she wasn’t pregnant now. If Linc wasn’t rescued…if he never came home…
All the fears and regrets seemed to leap out of the shadows. What was she
thinking? He might never speak to her again, much less make love to her, not
just because he couldn’t. More than the cave-in kept them apart. She’d never—
“Keep crocheting, child,” the older woman whispered, her own needle picking up
speed. “Don’t give yourself time to think.”
Suddenly, Julia looked up and met her mother’s gaze across the tent. The past
came back with a rush.
Julia had come home with a beautiful diamond on her hand and her heart plastered
all over her face. She’d wakened her parents to share her news only to find them
less than thrilled.
Her father’s question still cut painfully across time. Did she have to get
married?
All the sparkle had gone out of her night but the most damaging comment had come
from her mother. It hadn’t been a question, but a refusal to accept a “had to
get married” child.
“Don’t expect me to knit any baby booties,” Eleanor had snarled.
It had taken Linc weeks to get the details out of her. And several more weeks to
convince her to talk to them again. They didn’t have to like him, he’d said. But
they were her parents and part of her. He wasn’t letting her make any rash
decisions.
And so while the wall wasn’t as high as it could have been, it was still there,
standing solidly between them, even in this cramped tent.
Eleanor walked toward her. Julia looked down, concentrating on her uneven string
of looped blue yarn.
“May I?” The chair beside Julia shifted, scraping in the dirt. “Rita, isn’t it?
How do I do this?”
Julia looked up then, seeing her mother awkwardly grasping a crochet hook and
the purple yarn Rita handed her. Both older women laughed as she struggled to
get the fingering right.
But her mother was trying, Julia realized. Really, honestly trying.
Friday Afternoon, Twenty-Six Hours Underground
“SIT YOUR ASS DOWN, OLD MAN,” Zach said as he half carried Gabe over to where
Linc sat next to Casey. Linc scooted out of the way, then knelt beside Gabe
after Zach stepped back.
Both of them switched on their helmet lights. Gabe squinted in the sudden
brightness and Linc turned his off. “What happened?” Linc looked at Zach.
“He hunched over back there. Nearly fell on his face.”
“Chest hurts,” Gabe whispered.
Ah, shit. Linc closed his eyes, then opened them again to look at the older
miner more closely. It was hard to tell what his coloring was like in the poor
light. His eyes were closed and the lines around his eyes and mouth had
deepened. Linc grabbed his wrist and found his pulse strong, but quick.
“Any gas?” Zach looked pointedly at the meter on Linc’s pack.
They both looked down at the dials. “Nope. No changes,” Linc said. He thought he
heard everyone sigh in relief. “Put your air on anyway, Gabe.” He helped the
older man with his equipment. “Put Casey’s on, too. We probably should have done
that before. He could use the help.”
“Good idea.” Zach helped the semiconscious man put on the breathing apparatus.
He did seem to relax a little. Maybe he’d rest more now. He needed to if he was
going to survive that wound to his leg.
“What’s the matter with Gabe?” Ryan’s panic filled the small chamber, making
everyone shift uncomfortably.
Footsteps told Linc everyone was there. Robert and Mike walked up to stand
beside Ryan.
“He just needs to rest.” Linc had basic first-aid training, but that was all he
could offer them. He turned to the others. Each of them looked as afraid as he
felt. “We could all probably use some rest.” He didn’t think about the nap he’d
just tried to take, the one that had led to thoughts of Julia.
He scooted over next to Gabe. Ryan followed suit and settled in beside him.
Robert headed over to the opposite end.
Lined up there against the wall, they all stared straight ahead. Zach left his
light on and its beam bounced back off the wall, painting them in a distorted
glow.
The silence was heavy. Thick with threat.
And then they heard it. A sound that hadn’t been there before. A whining,
grinding, brutal sound.
Something, someone, was finally coming for them. Hope flickered for an instant.
Then Gabe lapsed into a coughing jag.
Would they get here soon enough?
CHAPTER TEN
Friday Afternoon, 5:00 p.m.
JULIA HAD REACHED A POINT with the crochet where she could keep going without
constantly watching her hands. Granted, it was just a single row that seemed to
stretch out for miles, but she felt better, calmer, as if she were doing
something.
She glanced around the room, seeing that one of the families who had left
earlier had returned, looking freshly showered but no less haggard. Beyond them,
her father sat on a folding chair, his elbows resting on his knees. Jack
Sinclair faced him and they were deep in discussion.
She panicked for a moment, not trusting her father’s responses. She couldn’t
recall when she’d ever seen her father sit and talk with one of the workers
without an argument erupting. But while Jack was talking with great animation,
her father seemed to be listening. Still concerned, she stood. “Excuse me.” She
set her crochet down and headed toward the men, just in case.
“Raising kids sure is tough,” Jack was saying.
Her father nodded and Julia held back, about to turn away. She was relieved that
they weren’t arguing about the cave-in or the industry or such.
“Don’t I know it. I wonder what’s easier, girls or boys? I only had the one
daughter,” her father admitted.
“Probably neither,” Jack said. Both men laughed. “I never wanted my boys
underground.”
Julia was shocked. Jack had been so adamant when she was trying to keep Ryan in
school. His comment surprised her. Then he clarified. “Both boys came to me and
wanted to do it. I might not like it, but I’ll support anything they want to
do.”
“Even after this?”
There was a long pause. “Yeah,” Jack admitted softly. “If they really want to,
I’ll support them. I’ll just drink a little more Maalox.” Both men laughed
again, but with much less humor.
Julia backed up, hurrying away from the touching realization of how much Jack
loved his sons. Enough to let them do something he didn’t want for them.
She didn’t stick around to hear her father’s response. She didn’t want to know
what dreams he’d had for her and how much she’d disappointed him.
Friday Afternoon, Twenty-Seven Hours Underground
THE DISTANT GRINDING SOUND was so faint that, if Linc had been talking or
sleeping, it would have been lost. But it was constant.
“What’s that?” Ryan whispered.
Gabe was stronger now and shifted around as if trying to get closer to the stone
wall. “It ain’t coming from the tunnel. It’s overhead.”
Linc tried to read Gabe’s expression but the man’s eyes were shadowed. He wasn’t
smiling.
“What does it mean?” Ryan really was at a disadvantage. He was way too young and
inexperienced to be trapped like this.
“It means the next chamber is full of either water or shale. They can’t get to
us that way,” Gabe said.
“We’re going to die here?” Ryan’s voice cracked.
“No.” Gabe put all of his determination into that one word. “It means they’re
coming for us from the top.”
Two hundred feet straight down through solid rock. Linc shook his head. It
wouldn’t work. If it did, would they beat the elements, rising water or gases,
which everyone knew were risk factors in a mine?
The battices the crew had put up helped hold in some of their body heat but the
mine was only fifty-eight degrees. Even the smallest and worst-equipped mines
had canvas battices stored throughout the tunnels. If the gases rose, the canvas
would block it somewhat. The cool rock against his back, and the lack of
activity, made Linc shiver. The men sat together, subconsciously seeking each
other’s warmth.
“It’s cold.” Ryan’s teeth chattered. Even in the faint light, Linc saw Mike
scoot closer to his brother. He did the same. Of them all, Ryan was the smallest
and probably had a greater challenge staying warm.
“Get up and move around to get the blood flowing,” Robert suggested. “Just don’t
overdo it.”
Linc had to admit that was a good idea. Ryan must have thought so, too, as he
struggled to stand. “I’ll go beat the pipe again. Maybe this time they’ll hear
us.”
“Maybe they will.” Mike’s voice held an edge Linc couldn’t quite identify. Hope
strangled by fear? He shook his head. He needed to get some sleep. His mind was
fading.
“Go to the pipe.” Gabe’s voice was soft but as authoritative as ever. “But don’t
go messing with shit along the way.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ryan’s smile was almost audible as he swept the canvas aside and
slipped through the opening. Linc sensed Mike tensing as they watched the boy
leave.
“He’ll be okay,” Linc reassured Mike.
“You don’t know my little brother very well, do you?” Mike said with a smile of
his own.
“I have some idea. My wife mentioned him and I’ve heard your dad talk.”
“Yeah, I know about that. If it means anything, she gave it a good shot.”
“What do you mean?”
“None of us wanted him down here. Dad always gets bent out of shape when someone
tries to tell him what to do, so he overreacted when she talked to Ryan. I wish
he’d listened to her.”
“She’ll be glad to hear that. I’ll be sure and tell her.”
“Yeah. That’d be nice.”
The silence settled back in place. Linc hoped he’d get the chance to tell Julia
just that. Then they’d all be out of here.
Linc shifted and something hard dug into his hip. He reached into his pocket and
couldn’t help but laugh. Fat lot of good his truck keys would do him down here.
All he could use them for now was jingling in his pocket to keep him awake.
“Why didn’t you leave those up top?” Mike asked.
“Habit,” he admitted. He didn’t want to think about what they opened. Things,
places, “stuff” he might never see again. When archaeologists dug up his body in
a few million years, would they even know what keys were?
He thought about tossing them into the darkness. Instead, he shoved them back
into his pocket, hoping he’d need them soon. Real soon.
“Hey.” Ryan’s alarmed voice came from the other side of the battice. His hat
lamp cast a bouncing shadow on the canvas just before he pulled it aside.
“What’s up?” Robert stood and walked over to the opening. “What did you find?”
“Nothing good.” The kid turned around and pointed in the direction of his light
beam. “There’s water rising up near the first break.”
“Damn it,” Gabe swore. “Fast or slow?”
“Slow—maybe a couple of inches so far.”
Cautious relief whispered through them all. What damage a cave-in didn’t
accomplish, water would.
“They’d better be digging for us fast.” Ryan’s voice broke as he settled back
down. The boy had been strong up until now, something Linc wasn’t so sure he’d
have been able to do at that age.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” Linc reassured him, knowing he was just as much
reassuring himself. And maybe a few of the others.
“Keep an eye on it,” Gabe said weakly.
“Let’s set a mark.” Robert disappeared into the darkness. Linc knew he’d find a
stick or pole and put it in the water. They’d mark the level. Now every time
someone went to bang on the pipe, they’d check the water level, as well.
Robert returned and settled back down. “It’s not much, yet.”
Casey moaned in his sleep.
“We need to get him out of here.” Robert’s frustration was clear. “We all need
to get out of here,” Mike stated. No one spoke again for a long time. The
silence itself was heavy and thick, just like the walls that trapped them.
Linc shifted position and the keys jangled in his pockets. Yep. He was still
alive. Still awake.
But for how long?
“I’m hungry.” Ryan’s statement interrupted his morbid thoughts. “Can we have
that lunch now?”
Linc had forgotten about the battered lunch box Ryan had found earlier.
“Might as well,” Gabe said.
“Cool.”
Linc heard him working to pry open the beat-up metal box. The lid groaned
loudly.
“Who wants an apple?” Ryan held up the Granny Smith in the faint light. “And
a…cheese sandwich?” He lifted the foil-wrapped sandwich. “Who drinks two
Mountain Dews?”
“Just split it up, kid.” Robert’s tone was gruff. “We can do without the
editorial.”
Linc saw Ryan throw Robert an offended look, but wisely the kid kept his words
to himself.
“Good job, kid.” Gabe patted Ryan’s shoulder as the boy hunkered down to give
him a part of the sandwich.
“I’d even eat a school lunch right now.” Ryan bit hungrily into his portion of
the sandwich.
“That’s sayin’ a lot,” Mike volunteered. “Little brother there never ate school
lunches. Not unless Mom forced him.”
“Shows how much you know. I’d go hungry those days.” It actually sounded as if
he was proud of that accomplishment.
Linc felt the mood of the dark chamber lift with the brotherly banter. He
thought about Jace. A pang of loss shot through him. Nothing had been the same
since Jim Holmes’s death.
Linc couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about the family he’d grown up
with, the one that had vanished all too early. He didn’t let himself dwell on it
often, but holidays and special events made it inevitable.
Linc had worked his butt off in high school to get the scholarship he’d needed
to get the hell out of the small coal-mining town. He’d left, shaking the black
dust off his shoes as soon as he hit the city limits.
He hadn’t given a thought to his younger brother. To this day, he hadn’t escaped
the sense that he’d failed Jace.
Two weeks into Linc’s senior year of college, Jace had run away from home. Mom
hadn’t even told Linc until another two weeks had passed.
No one had seen Jace since. Linc didn’t even know if his brother was alive or
not. The guilt that came from not knowing settled like a stone in his gut.
Would he ever find out what had happened to Jace? Or was his brother waiting on
the other side with his parents? Would Linc be seeing them all too soon?
Friday Evening, 6:30 p.m.
WAITING…WAITING…WAITING. Julia had never been patient. This interminable waiting
was going to drive her insane.
Someone had brought in a stack of worn paperbacks that sat neglected on one of
the tables. Julia couldn’t even think straight, much less concentrate on a
story.
The rain had finally stopped and faint rays of evening sunshine filtered through
the trees. She couldn’t resist the call of the light. The darkness of the
waiting was becoming too heavy. She needed to escape.
Outside, the fading sunshine felt good. Julia turned her face toward it as she
stepped outside. The sweet scent of the damp woods filled her with a hope she
hadn’t let herself feel in an eternity.
Julia had had enough of the crowds and the worry and the not knowing. Being
outside made her feel closer to the rescue efforts, closer to something
happening. Closer to Linc. She didn’t dwell on that last thought long.
She’d taken only a few steps when her mother’s voice stopped her. “Where are you
going?”
“I…I need some air.” She needed more than that but couldn’t begin to explain the
ache of emptiness she felt even with all these people around.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No.”
“I’m going with you,” Eleanor said more forcefully.
“Not now, Mom.”
“Yes, now, Julia.” The mother tone came again, the one Julia hadn’t heard in
years. The one Julia had dreaded as a child, the one that said she’d done
something unacceptable. Julia turned and kept walking, hearing her mother’s
footsteps behind her. They were a good ten feet outside before she spun and
faced her mother. “What is it?”
“I saw the look on your face earlier. You were remembering, too.”
Eleanor stared at her, and for the first time in her memory, Julia saw
uncertainty in her mother’s eyes. “I realize there’s a lot going on.” Eleanor
paused. “But that look isn’t something I can let pass.”
“There wasn’t a look.” She’d managed to hide her feelings for the past ten
years. She wasn’t dredging up that hurt all over again.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Julia was taken aback. Her mother never apologized. Never.
Julia felt something inside her tremble. “I don’t understand.” She didn’t know
what her mother expected. “You’ve never liked Linc.” The years of anger came
bubbling to the surface. “You never wanted me to marry him. I can’t forget the
things you’ve said and done over the years.”
Eleanor sighed and paced away from Julia. Taking a deep breath, she turned back
to face her daughter. “I know we weren’t supportive in the beginning. For God’s
sake, Julia, you came bursting into our room in the middle of the night to tell
us you were marrying a man we hardly knew. You didn’t even give us a chance to
get to know him.”
“It was too uncomfortable.”
“And not for us?”
“I…I never thought of it that way.”
“I know that, dear, but we didn’t do anything to stop you, did we?”
“Uh, no.” The trembling increased. She stared at her mother, as if seeing her
for the first time as an adult.
Julia shivered. The night closed in, cool and damp, and she let herself feel
each aspect of it. That was better than facing the doubt that had suddenly taken
hold of her soul.
“There’s been so little time for us to get to know Linc. But you know what? He
makes you happy, honey, and that’s all we care about.” Eleanor continued to
pace. “We’re no different from any other parents. We want what’s best for you.”
“You don’t always know what I want.”
“That’s true, dear. But you aren’t any better at telling us, now are you?”
Eleanor was actually letting her feelings show and the hurt she exposed was
strong and, Julia realized, long held.
“We’ve messed everything up, haven’t we?” Julia whispered and turned away. She
stared out over the compound of the mine, seeing the groups of men who were
taking part in the rescue effort. They seemed to be moving in slow motion. She
closed her eyes. “Oh, Mom.”
Julia let her head fall forward and her eyes close, hoping that her mother
wouldn’t see her misery. She should have known. There was no hiding this.
“Mom, we’re separated. I moved out of the house last week.”
Eleanor said nothing. Then slowly, gently, she laid a hand on Julia’s shoulder.
She didn’t say anything. She still didn’t do anything except lay that hand on
her daughter’s shoulder. Comforting. Offering.
“We’ve had so many troubles since—” Julia hiccuped and knew she was losing the
battle. “Since I lost the baby.”
Suddenly, out of nowhere, memories rushed at her. Of the weekend at the lake. Of
the weeks and months Linc had tried to get home early so dinner wasn’t cold.
Then the angry words she’d thrown at him. Words she’d known at the time were
wrong, but that she’d said nonetheless. She could see his face even now and she
admitted to herself that she’d hurt him.
“I lied to him, Mom,” she began. “I quit my job and didn’t tell him. I couldn’t
work with the little kids anymore. I wanted to tell him, but I—I just didn’t
know how.”
Eleanor remained quiet, listening, her hand slowly, gently rubbing. Soothing.
She waited for Julia to continue, as though knowing she needed to purge herself
of the pain.
“He was trying so hard and I just shut him out.”
“You always were good at that.” Eleanor’s tone was oddly warm and easy. “Poor
baby.”
Julia lifted her head and chuckled. “Yeah.” The light moment faded all too
quickly. “Why didn’t I pay attention? Why didn’t I see what he was doing?” She
turned and glanced back at the mine opening. “What if I never get to tell him
I’m sorry?”
Regret and fear so strong it hurt swept over her. She looked longingly at the
mine, willing the rescuers to find the trapped men, to get them out safely.
Praying as she’d never prayed before.
“You will, dear,” Eleanor whispered, moving closer and enfolding her daughter in
a hard hug. “If not, you’ll deal with that then. Don’t go there now.”
“I’ve ruined everything.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Life goes on, even after a disaster.”
Julia stared at her mother, unable to hide her surprise.
“Don’t look so shocked. Your father and I have been married a long time. It
hasn’t all been wine and roses.”
“You never said anything.”
Eleanor’s eyes grew distant and her smile bittersweet. “You don’t share the hard
times with your children, not if you can help it. We’ve always protected you.”
Julia had to agree with that. Her parents had been the ultimate barrier between
her and the world.
“I don’t know what to do, Mom.” She had no idea what to do. Not now. Not if
Linc—she swallowed the hurt—if Linc died. And if he lived? If he came out of
that mine in one piece? What was she supposed to do then? She wasn’t sure what
she dreaded most.
Burying him or watching him walk away.
“Don’t decide now. You’re too upset. Take all the time you need.” Eleanor pulled
away as if sensing Julia needed space right now. “Don’t let anyone tell you what
you need. Not even me.”
Julia hugged her mother. “Thanks, Mom.”
Eleanor pushed a strand of hair out of Julia’s eyes. “I love you, sweetheart.
Stay here if you like. Breathe a little. I’ll go check on your father.”
Julia watched her mother walk back into the tent, recognizing her for the first
time as a woman struggling to stay strong for someone she loved. For me, she
thought and let herself smile a bittersweet smile.
The sound of footsteps, heavy with muck, kept Julia from thinking too hard. One
shift must be leaving the mine. She turned to see a small group of men heading
toward her.
Their faces were grimy as were the hard hats that were perched at odd angles on
their heads, as if they’d pushed at them in frustration. The yellow slickers
they wore were streaked with the black coal dust and their shoes caked with the
mud they waded through.
Julia’s heart skipped a beat. The first man in the group looked at her then,
their gazes clashing. She recognized him, but couldn’t have said from where.
Guiltily, she searched her battered memory and found no name.
“Mrs. Holmes?” The man’s voice shook as he stopped a few feet away from her. “Is
that Holmes down there your husband?”
The voice. She’d never forget Randy Watson again. He and his family lived down
the street.
She looked up at the boy who’d become a man in such a short time and her tears
blurred her vision. “Randy. I…I thought you were at college.”
“I was, for a semester. Then we just couldn’t afford the tuition. I came home at
Christmas.”
The few times they’d met in the neighborhood, she’d got the impression that he
was a cutup with a quick mind and even faster reflexes with the comebacks.
He rushed closer while the rest of the crew continued down the hill. “I’m still
taking classes. I’m not giving up,” he reassured her.
She had to smile. He sounded more like the kid she remembered, rather than the
man who now stood before her. “Good. Good.” She didn’t know what else to say. He
didn’t either. The silence stretched out between them.
“We’re doing everything we can in there,” he whispered, catching her gaze. He
looked down at his hands, spreading them, palms up, between them. “I was using
my hands even. Anything to get that rock out of the way.”
Her heart hurt for him.
For them all.
“It’s okay, Randy.” She reached out to touch his arm, not caring if she got
black grime on her hands.
“No, it’s not.” His words came out angry and she knew the anger wasn’t at her,
but at himself, at this whole mess. “Ryan’s down there, too. I suppose you know
that?”
“And Mike. Yeah.”
“It’s killing Missy.”
“Missy?”
“My sister.” He hunched his shoulders. “She and Ryan had a thing going. Then
they had a fight just before he started working here.”
“It’s not her fault.” Julia clearly recalled the conversation with Missy Watson
after school last week. How long ago that seemed. She’d forgotten Randy and
Missy were related. The girl was as pretty as Randy was handsome, with just
enough sass to get her into trouble on a fairly regular basis. She could see
what attracted Ryan to her.
“She won’t believe that. Mom and Dad keep trying to tell her. They’re worried
about her. If this doesn’t work out…”
She understood the girl’s pain all too well.
“She won’t leave her room.”
“Do you think she’d come up here? Be with the rest of us?” Julia couldn’t help
but recall the comfort that Mamie and Rita had been for her. These women could
help Missy, as well. She was too young to be facing this, much less carrying
unnecessary guilt.
“I…” He shifted back and forth. “That’d be awfully nice for her, I think.”
“Bring her up here if she’ll come. She’s welcome.”
The eyes that turned to hers were boyish, young and afraid. She saw the damp
shine in the fading light.
She’d started out comforting the boy and wasn’t sure when the man had started
comforting her. For a bit, just a little bit, she let her tears escape.
The loud, open-throttled roar of a motorcycle cut through the canyon and the
tender moment was gone. With a solemn goodbye, Randy hastily wiped his eyes and
followed his crew.
Julia watched him go, and let her gaze drift to beyond the fence. She could see
the TV vans and the reporters mingling nearby. Two police cars sat angled across
the road. Hank stood at the apex of the bumpers, not quite at attention, but
straight and alert. His arms were behind his back, giving him a no-nonsense
stance.
The motorcycle she’d heard rumbled up to him and stopped. The rider kicked the
stand, killed the engine and sat back in the seat.
Slowly the man pulled the dark helmet from his head. Julia gasped. Linc. She
took a step forward. Then the man’s long brown hair fell to his shoulders. She
froze in place.
It couldn’t be.
Jace?
The last time she’d seen Linc’s brother, they’d both been kids. How long ago it
seemed. Linc didn’t talk about Jace, never discussed the younger brother who’d
run away from home and hadn’t been heard from since. Until now, it seemed.
Hank shook Jace’s hand, then after a brief discussion, he directed Jace to park
the big bike in the lot behind the fence. Julia didn’t move, just watched him.
It was eerily like watching Linc move. She saw the same shape of his shoulders,
the same tilt of his head, the same easygoing slouch. When he climbed off the
bike, Jace awkwardly struggled to move on the uneven ground, as if he’d had some
kind of injury or had sat too long. Maybe both.
He finished stowing the helmet and turned around to see her standing there,
watching him. He walked slowly toward her. “Hello.”
“Hi.” The one word was a struggle. She tried again. “You’re Jace, right?”
He frowned and the look in his eyes grew wary. “Jace Holmes.” He tentatively
offered his hand. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”
“Julia Holmes. Used to be Alton. You probably don’t remember me. I’m your
sister-in-law.”
His shock was strong and the expression on his face almost made her laugh.
“Linc’s married?”
“Yeah. Seven years now.” She silently prayed that they’d at least get the chance
at eight. “Welcome,” she whispered.
“Shouldn’t have taken this to get me here, I guess.” He shifted from foot to
foot. “But I had to come.”
“Linc will be pleased.”
“I don’t know about that.” Their eyes met. Linc might never even know Jace had
arrived.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Friday Afternoon, Twenty-Nine Hours Underground
HOW LONG COULD HE stay out here? Linc sank down onto a crate that had managed to
survive the cave-in. The stone wall was rough but solid behind him. Out here, he
left his light on, chasing away the heavy darkness.
He touched the screen on his watch. It glowed bright blue. Another two minutes
had passed.
He glanced back at the canvas curtain. The shelter was their best hope of
surviving until the rescuers reached them. It was one of the techniques he
taught in safety classes.
He nearly scoffed at that. Safety classes. Lot of good they did now. New
regulations had been enacted after the Sago disaster, but mines had years to
comply. One lone man of the thirteen miners trapped in that West Virginia mine
had survived to be rescued in 2006. Not only had there been numerous safety
violations that led up to the explosion, but the communication about the rescue
had been a mess. They’d even reported that the miners were all alive, only to
have to tell the families the opposite later on. Part of Linc’s job as an
inspector was to see how well the properties were doing in getting prepared.
He wasn’t impressed. Only problem was, who was he going to tell now?
He looked back at the shelter and cringed. He should get back. But just the
thought made the walls seem to close in. The oxygen vanished in the small space.
In there, he grew larger and felt sure everything would crush him.
Out here—even though it was a closed chamber—at least he could imagine a greater
space. He could breathe without breaking into an anxious sweat.
It had been years since he’d experienced these panic attacks, since the
nightmares of his father’s burial. Closing his eyes, Linc tried to imagine
himself someplace else, anywhere else that would take this feeling away.
The timer on his watch beeped. Shaking himself out of his misery, he picked up
the hammer again and hit the pipe. He didn’t expect a reply. They were more than
two hundred feet beneath the surface. But he caught himself listening, waiting
for an answering peal.
All he heard were footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Zach coming out of
the shelter. It was the first time he’d seen him leave Casey’s side since the
accident.
“How are they doing?” Linc asked, referring to Casey and Gabe.
Zach shook his head. “They both need a doctor. But considering… Hell, at least
Casey’s still alive.” Zach came over to where Linc sat and thumped down on the
other side of the crate. “How’re you doing, Inspector?” Zach tried to smile.
“Robert’s a jerk, you know. Don’t let him get to you.”
“He’s just like my dad was.” Linc shook his head. “He believes in what he’s
doing.” He didn’t like defending the man, but knew it was the truth.
“Hey, you got any paper in that pack of yours?”
“Uh, yeah. Why?” Linc leaned down and unzipped the backpack. He pulled out a
legal pad that looked as if it had been run over by a truck, which, he realized,
it might as well have been, a couple of times. The paper crinkled loudly as he
handed it over.
“I thought that maybe I should write a note. You know, just in case, they, uh,
don’t reach us in time.”
Linc couldn’t respond, realizing that it hadn’t even occurred to him to leave a
note. What the hell would he write?
Zach took the paper and looked at Linc expectantly. Linc stared back. “Are you
expecting me to write it in my own blood? Got a pencil in there?” Linc might
have taken offense if the laughter hadn’t sparked in Zach’s eyes.
“Maybe I got a crayon or something,” Linc teased back. He handed Zach a
mechanical pencil.
“You’re all right, Inspector.” Zach bent over the notepad and started
scribbling. The words came out quick at first, then slowed down as the initial
rush faded. Zach looked up with a sigh. “You married, Inspector?”
“Yeah,” he said aloud. Sort of, he added mentally.
“She’s probably up there with my Trisha. Want me to add a message for her, or
are you going to write your own note?”
“I don’t know.” Linc thought about it for a minute. Should he write a note? What
should he say? What shouldn’t he say?
“You should, you know.” Zach glanced at him. “My Trish at least deserves that
much.”
“Why? You got a confession to make?”
Zach chuckled. “No. Trish knows I’m faithful to her. She puts up with all kinds
of crap. That’s why I need to give her something positive to end on. I ain’t
been the best husband.”
Somehow that didn’t surprise Linc. He liked Zach, but he seemed like a man who
knew how to party.
“Hey, if you make it good enough, maybe they’ll put it in the paper like they
did with that letter from Sago.” Zach laughed again, but this time there was a
note of sadness in his voice. That letter had been from one of the men who
hadn’t survived. His family had wanted to share his last words with the world.
Reality could only be kept at bay for so long.
Linc knew about the Sago notes. He also knew that the men of Quecreek, who’d
survived, had buried their notes, hiding them forever. They hadn’t destroyed
them though….
His father hadn’t had the time to even think about a note. Maybe if he had, his
mother would have had the closure she’d needed. Maybe she’d have been able to go
on with her life instead of letting her grief destroy her.
Linc reached into the pack and pulled out another sheet of paper. This one was
even more crumpled than the other. It was partially used. He’d started a list of
things he wanted to keep when he and Julia sat down to divvy up their
belongings.
The pen he pulled out was the red one he used to mark violations on the
check-off sheet he had to turn in after each inspection. Slowly, carefully, he
crossed out the list, negating his wishes.
He moved down to a blank line and wrote her name. Julia. He stopped, not sure
what else to write, just staring at her name. How many times had he written that
name and never really appreciated it?
He wanted to stay angry with her, he didn’t want to think about how much he
missed her, how empty the house was without her. Julia hadn’t taken much when
she’d left. She’d only packed a single overnight bag…but the house had lost
something.
He didn’t even begin to know how to say any of that. But he had to. Somehow…
Linc stared at the mutilated page, his mind empty of words and full of images.
How, he asked himself, could he put a lifetime of feelings and thoughts onto a
single sheet of paper?
A note that she’d read only if he died.
He struggled with the words, knowing they weren’t enough. Never would be. The
few meager words he managed to write swam as his eyes filled. Nothing made
sense.
He thought of the junk drawer by the back door in the kitchen. Zach’s comment
about not being a good husband came to mind. Linc looked over at the other man.
He wasn’t writing, just staring at his own half-written page.
Linc turned away, hoping he didn’t look as dejected as Zach. His mind returned
to that drawer. Julia had been nagging him for months to get rid of all of his
junk in it. All the stuff he never really used, but never threw away, either.
He could close his eyes and see the odd bits of shoelaces, paper clips and
rubber bands. But there were useful things, too. Like the flathead screwdriver
that he used to tighten the screws on the outside light that kept threatening to
fall off the back of the house. Or the fishing hooks he was determined to use…if
he ever got back up to the lake again.
Recently, though…she’d stopped nagging him about the drawer. He’d known things
weren’t right, but the fact that Julia didn’t care about the mess anymore spoke
volumes. She’d reached a point where she just didn’t care, he realized, and that
scared him.
There were so many questions he wanted to ask her, but he would hear no answers
if she were reading this.
He tried to puzzle out what to say, but nothing came to him. Nothing but
memories of joy and pain. He closed his eyes, wishing they’d go away, but they
didn’t. They only grew stronger, clearer.
Then it dawned on him why he couldn’t write the note. It wasn’t a goodbye he
needed to leave Julia. He needed to find a way to fix all the hurt he’d put in
her life, in her heart. And he just couldn’t do that for her.
“Go to hell,” she’d said last week. He nearly laughed. Maybe she was getting her
wish after all.
Frustration ripped through him, and he nearly ripped the page in half, but he
couldn’t do it. Instead, he folded it and slipped it and the pen into his
pocket. He needed to think about it, and they had some time left, he was sure.
“I’m going back in,” he told Zach.
“Right behind you.” Zach, too, folded his page and stuck it in his pocket. He
held the pencil as if unsure what to do with it.
“Keep it. Maybe literary brilliance will strike.”
Both men smiled. Linc led the way and they stepped through the canvas barrier to
where the others were nothing but shadows against the eternal night. He settled
back against the wall with a heavy sigh, trying to shut out the image of that
old kitchen drawer and failing miserably.
Just let me out of here. I’ll clean every damned drawer in the house if she
wants.
Friday Night, 11:00 p.m.
WHENEVER PATRICK KELLY or other miners came to the tent, the scattered family
groups gathered together. This time, as well. When the ragtag group of miners
pulled open the tent flap, Julia sensed her parents shift beside her. Even Jace
moved closer. Linc’s brother had kept his distance, as if not quite sure where
he fit in. She really couldn’t blame him. He’d been gone too long.
Randy Watson looked around the room until he found her. Their eyes met and he
quickly looked away. The small group of men parted, revealing his sister, Missy.
The men had been protecting her, buffering her from the media outside, wrapping
her in a cocoon.
The girl’s eyes were puffy and red as if she’d cried for days and still had
buckets of tears dammed up inside.
Julia stood and moved toward Missy. “Oh, sweetie,” she said softly and opened
her arms. Randy stepped aside and Missy ran into Julia’s embrace, her sobs hard
and painful.
Julia wanted to cry with her, but if she did, the flood would begin. She knew if
she looked around that her mother, Mamie, Tricia, Rita, maybe even Shirley,
would be holding back tears. Even the men, as tough as they all tried to be,
were emotional at this point.
Julia recalled how Mamie had comforted her and held her, despite her own pain.
She wanted to be that for Missy.
Julia pulled back, hoping to nudge the girl, and herself, into a calmer state.
“Welcome.” She looked up at Randy, realizing that the anguish on his face was at
leaving his sister. “I’ll take care of her, Randy. You do what you need to do.”
He nodded and turned to leave.
“Randy?” Missy called. “Thanks. And be careful.”
He smiled at her, and Julia added her own well wishes.
And then the men were gone. Back to the work of getting them all out of this
horrid situation. Julia kept her arm around Missy and guided her to where she
and her family had set up a small group of chairs. It had become her little
corner of the tent, and she wanted Missy to have a place where she felt safe and
welcome.
She saw a bit of herself in the girl. She knew what it was like to love someone
so much that the possibility they might not always be there was unthinkable.
Instead of falling into her own despair, she focused on making Missy feel
comfortable.
The tent—and these circumstances—were miles and years away from the classroom
where they normally saw each other. Julia swallowed, realizing that world might
never be as it had been again.
“I’m here for you.” Julia spoke softly, carefully, laying a hand on Missy’s arm.
She looked across the tent at Jack Sinclair. How long ago and how
inconsequential the school board and the anger he’d thrown at her seemed.
“Everyone’s doing their best to save our guys.” Julia tried to reassure
everyone.
The sound of Mamie’s metal walker broke into their conversation. Julia looked
around and was gratified that the others had come closer, their hearts going out
to the girl who was obviously falling to pieces in front of them.
Rita stepped forward and, as Julia had done, she slipped an arm around Missy.
“Ryan’s going to be awfully happy that you’re here.”
“I didn’t know if he was still interested.” Missy hedged as only a teenage girl,
lovesick and afraid, could hedge.
“Oh, he’s interested.” Rita tried to smile through her own worry.
Missy visibly perked up and for the first time since Randy had brought her into
the tent, she looked around without weeping.
“You did a good thing, my dear.” Mamie’s curled hand settled on Julia’s
shoulder. She glanced up to see the old woman smiling at her.
In that moment, Julia felt the bond that only other women would understand. The
feeling known since time immemorial by all the wives, lovers and mothers who had
watched their men go off to work, or to war or to any other dangerous pursuit.
Women left behind to wait, worry and tend. The women who surrounded her now were
her comrades in arms and she appreciated them for being that.
Shuffling feet created a stir at the tent opening and Patrick Kelly strode in.
He was alone this time, which was unusual. No team of engineers flanked and
protected him. In his hand, he carried a long roll of paper.
He waved at Jack Sinclair and Julia’s father, Raymond. “Can you help me, guys?”
Since he hadn’t brought reinforcements, he made do with what he had.
Together, the men unrolled a large map. Dark lines, cross marks and circles had
been drawn on it in black marker. A large box took up one corner.
The families closed in around him and the trapped-rabbit look returned to his
eyes, but he swallowed and continued. “Okay, folks. I’ve brought this so I can
walk you through what we’re doing.”
Everyone groaned. They were so tired of technical explanations. It was time for
answers. Julia ground her teeth in frustration, but still, she moved closer,
wanting something she could understand.
“This is the geological survey of the mountain,” Patrick began. “These two Xs
are where we’re drilling first. This one is for air. This one, a little to the
north, is bigger. We’ll send the equipment, cameras and communication devices
down this one.” He pointed to the first mark.
Jack and Raymond nodded. They understood and weren’t reacting with any alarm.
Julia felt Missy slip her hand in hers, her fingers stiff and cold.
Mamie hobbled forward. “How far down have they gotten?” The clatter of her
walker accented each word.
Patrick sighed and turned away from the map. “Fifty feet.”
“Fifty feet?” Julia cried. “You said the men are at least two hundred feet
down.”
“At least,” Patrick agreed. “But so far, it’s all we’ve got.”
“When do you expect to reach them?” Jace’s voice was calm and deep, so unlike
Julia’s shrill demand.
“Tomorrow morning at the earliest,” Patrick said softly and Julia almost fell to
her knees. “The big drill’s being set up now. We’ll start that as soon as it’s
ready.”
“Hey,” a man called from outside the tent. “Hey.” Before any of them could move,
Randy Watson shoved his head through the opening, his smile wide. He didn’t wait
for an invitation to speak. “We got taps.”
The room erupted with noise. Hugs were everywhere. Julia neither knew nor cared
whose arms were around her or who she held. She just knew hope was alive and
well.
“How many?” Patrick’s smile, while genuine, was tempered.
“Seven. All seven alive.”
Friday Night, Thirty-Three Hours Underground
LINC SETTLED BACK IN the shelter, this time right next to the canvas, near the
opening that eased his claustrophobia. He pulled out the note, glaring at it.
Maybe he shouldn’t have even started to write it.
His heart hurt just to think about it. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head
against the wall. He tried to picture Julia reading it, hoping to find a clue to
what to write, what words might give her peace. But each time he envisioned her
reading it, he saw the tears, the pain on her face, and heard her sobs.
Because while he knew their marriage was on shaky ground, he truly believed she
still loved him. He knew he still loved her, so why couldn’t they find that
simple truth when they were together?
Why did the angry words stop them from reaching for each other? Why did the hurt
not allow for the needed comforting hug? Hell, why didn’t the passion he knew
they shared not overcome the hesitancy?
“Your thoughts are too loud,” Gabe whispered and his chuckle disintegrated into
a cough. Linc helped him sit up better and the cough subsided.
“What’s that supposed to mean, old man?”
“You’re thinking too hard. Trying to fix all the world’s troubles…or at least
those you think you’re leaving behind.”
“Hardly. I can’t even fix my own, much less the world’s.”
Gabe laughed again, but no coughing fit followed, thank goodness. “Zach convince
you to write that goodbye letter?”
This time Linc chuckled. “Thinking about it.”
“Thinking don’t get it done.”
That was true. “You writing one?”
“Nope. Don’t have to.”
“Why?”
“Wrote one years ago—when I had my first heart attack. Left it in the safe
deposit box. Shirley’ll find it when I’m gone one day.”
“What’d you say? How did you say goodbye?”
“I didn’t. I told her how much I appreciated having her, not how much I’d hate
it without her. Think positive. Leave your wife with a light to see through the
darkness ahead. Don’t extinguish it by pointing out what’s hurting her.”
Linc stared at the older man. “How’d you get so wise down here in the bowels of
the earth?”
“Maybe talking to God near the devil’s playground gives you points.” Gabe
whispered the words, and Linc knew he’d drifted off to sleep, his energy spent
trying to comfort someone else.
Linc let Gabe’s words soak in. Maybe he’d gather a few points of his own.
Closing his eyes, he wondered if he even remembered how to pray.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Saturday Morning, 3:00 a.m.
“WHY THE HELL IS LINC working in the mines?”
Jace spoke intently, yet so softly that Julia thought she might have imagined
it. “I thought after what happened to Dad, he’d never go underground.”
“He’s not a miner, he’s an inspector.” There was no reason to believe Jace had
any idea what Linc actually did for a living. “He only spends part of his time
underground.”
Julia stared at Jace. The man was nothing like she’d thought the boy would
become. He was rough and worn. His anger lived in his eyes, and she wasn’t sure
there was anything else behind that anger.
“You’re Fancy Pants.”
She thought the curving of his lips might be a smile. The sound that came from
his throat wasn’t quite a laugh—more of a cackle if men did that. “I hated that
nickname in school. Your brother gave it to me.”
“I know. And he was damned proud of it at the time, if I remember.”
“Thanks.” She let her sarcasm show. “Try to forget that, would you?”
“No.” He paused and the pseudo smile vanished. He hid behind his coffee cup for
an instant.
Julia wondered what was going on inside his mind. She almost feared his next
words, and she knew there were more.
“I don’t have that many good memories of growing up. I’ll keep that one,
thanks,” he finally said.
The silence stretched out long and heavy. She wanted to tell him to keep
talking. She didn’t want her mind to fill with the images of Linc and the others
still trapped, waiting…hoping…dying.
“Where have you been for the past ten years?” she ventured.
“On the road.” He fell silent again. “I left home and ended up in Sturgis, South
Dakota, and I’ve been on the move ever since.”
She’d heard of the rough motorcycle town and stared at him. “You were only
sixteen when you left.” She recalled news stories of brawls, gang fights and
drugs there. It was no place for a kid.
“Yeah, and I grew up real fast,” he whispered.
“How did you survive?”
His eyes grew distant. “I almost didn’t.”
This time she knew he wouldn’t elaborate. She didn’t push. She didn’t want to
know. Silently, she prayed that Jace wouldn’t share any of those memories with
Linc, if he survived to hear him. Linc’s guilt over his brother running away was
already too strong.
“I finally landed in L.A. That’s where I met Mac. He’s the only reason I’m alive
today.”
Julia heard the reverence, the emotion in Jace’s voice. She wanted to thank the
man but got the impression he wasn’t around to thank. “Jace?”
She spoke to call him back to the present, knowing he was far away. “I know Linc
will want to know what the past ten years have been like, but—” How did she ask
him to lie, to sugarcoat the truth? “He feels responsible for your leaving, for
all the pain in your life.” There, she’d said it.
He turned to glare at her then. “You’re kidding, right?”
She refused to squirm under the intensity of his stare, but it wasn’t easy.
“What are you most afraid of…him feeling more guilty, or him gloating over how
he managed to make something of his life instead of ending up a street rat?” he
asked.
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Why are you trying to protect him?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. He’s a grown man. He was an adult when I left. I won’t lie to
him. I owe him the truth.”
She wanted to argue, but the look on his face, the hard determination there,
stopped her. “I—” The words stuck in her throat. She tried again. “The last
couple of years, losing your mom, losing—” She swallowed hard. “It’s been hard.”
“Life’s hard, Fancy Pants.”
“Stop it.” She turned to walk away, and was surprised when his hand closed
around her arm.
“Answer me one thing,” he said in her ear. “Why are you here? You left him. I
heard your folks talking. You were moving out of the house when the call came.
What do you care what happens to him?”
“He’s my husband.”
“And I repeat, you’re leaving him.” He nearly spat the words. “Prove him right,
why don’t you.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ve been married to him how long? I’ve been gone ten years and I still know
him better than you do. He’s never felt good enough for you. He’s always known
he’d never live up to your expectations.”
“That’s ridiculous. He’s successful. He’s fine.”
“He let you go.” Jace released her arm. “He didn’t even come after you when you
left, did he?”
“No.” The single word tore from Julia’s throat. He hadn’t come after her. He’d
let her go. He’d stayed on the front porch while she’d packed, while she drove
away. He’d stayed in the house, their home, making a mess of it. He’d never
tried to reach her. It wasn’t true. He couldn’t possibly feel inadequate.
And yet he hadn’t come after her.
He’d let her go.
Her vision blurred, and she glanced away from Jace, the only person who had the
nerve to tell her what she needed to know. Even Linc hadn’t told her the truth.
Jace nodded and after an unnerving, accusatory glare, he headed for the coffee.
She watched him go, wondering why she’d thought he was Linc at first. Other than
the physical resemblance, they were nothing alike—were they?
She was willing to give Linc’s brother the benefit of the doubt for his mood.
These weren’t normal circumstances, but if he was that worried about his
brother, why hadn’t he contacted him even once in the past ten years? Why hadn’t
he bothered to call when his mother died? Linc would have appreciated that.
While Linc could slip into that same moody, angry place, he did it infrequently.
She remembered how he’d allowed his emotions to rule him in high school, but
he’d grown up, managed to find an even balance. He seldom gave in to his
emotions.
The last time…
The last time had nearly destroyed them both.
Only once in their entire marriage did Julia remember having Linc all to
herself. He was always so busy, taking care of the house, his mother until her
death, his job—all things she appreciated. All that made her love him.
And they were all things that took him away from her more than they brought him
to her.
He always tried to do the best for everyone else.
After she’d lost the baby, he’d taken time off from everything.
He’d packed her up and driven out to the mountains, to a quaint cabin on a small
lake. He’d rented it for a whole week.
Why hadn’t they even talked about doing something like that again? Why had they
let life separate them? Why had she let things come between them?
Slowly, because her mind reluctantly accepted it, she realized she’d pushed him
away. Looking around the room, she realized she’d pushed everyone away. Her
parents. Her neighbors. People who could have been her friends. But mostly,
Linc.
All because she was afraid to face her past and risk being hurt. Instead, she’d
nearly lost them completely.
Saturday Morning, Thirty-Seven Hours Underground
LINC KNEW THAT SOMEWHERE, up on the surface, teams were scrambling to dig
through the tons of rock between them and the outside world.
He knew the procedures. The plans that would be put into action. He wasn’t sure
if the knowledge was a blessing or a curse.
Linc had only met Halston, the mine’s CEO, once, but he’d worked with the
Director of the Mining Commission many times. He liked and respected Patrick
Kelly. The man knew his business. He’d been underground for years, knew the
earth and its quirks as well as any miner.
Knowing that Patrick was in charge of this rescue operation alleviated some of
Linc’s stress.
If only he could rid himself of the anxiety of being trapped. Of this horrid
fear that threatened to eat his sanity.
“Dear Heavenly Father.” Ryan’s whisper was deep with pain and shaky with fear.
Linc knew he shouldn’t listen, knew that he should leave the boy to his
confession. But the words were too real to be ignored.
“Forgive me for all the trouble I’ve been to Mom and Dad. And for all the bad
things I’ve thought, you know, about Missy.” His voiced trailed off. “And for
hurting Mrs. Holmes.”
Linc started. How had Ryan hurt Julia? The kid hadn’t done much except decide to
quit school, but from Ryan’s point of view, the whole mess probably seemed worse
than it was.
“I suppose you heard that.” Ryan was addressing him now.
“Yeah,” Linc admitted.
“Sorry. I really didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and her.”
Linc turned to stare in the direction of the boy’s voice. The darkness was too
thick to see anything at this point.
“What do you mean?” He wanted to hear what Ryan had to say, but he had no
intention of admitting that trouble between him and Julia went back way longer
than this issue.
“I heard her talking to Ms. Daily, the teacher she’s subbing for—you know, the
one who’s out on maternity leave?”
Yeah, yeah, get on with it, Linc wanted to say, but wisely held back. “About
me?” he asked instead. He was shocked that Julia had said anything to the other
teacher—she seldom confided in anyone, even him. If she was reaching out to a
stranger, she must have felt more alone than he’d ever guessed. He wanted to
know what she’d talked about.
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“About her teaching job. Something about how she thought moving to the high
school would help.”
“Help?” Linc was starting to feel like a parrot, but couldn’t stop himself.
“I don’t really know any details. She mentioned something about babies.”
The air stabbed Linc’s lungs as he gasped. He’d been so stupid. He’d thought
that if they just ignored it and went on with their lives, they’d both
eventually get over their traumatic loss. That was why he’d shrugged off Julia’s
desire to see a fertility specialist. If they didn’t acknowledge the problem,
they could move on. Obviously, she hadn’t. She’d quit the job she loved, taking
herself away from the pain of seeing the children that would never be hers.
He closed his eyes, the visions behind his lids clear, familiar and all too
painful.
Julia, her belly rounded with their child. The nursery she’d worked so hard to
decorate. Her empty arms and vacant stare when he’d brought her home that
wretched day.
And he saw her now, worry and pain on her face. Tears on her cheeks and fear in
her heart. He knew her. Knew that though she’d hide it, her emotions would
overwhelm her. Watching her pain had been worse than feeling his own. He’d
promised her—and himself—that he’d never put her through that again.
He’d broken that promise.
Zach came over and sat beside them. “You know what’s going on up there.” It was
a statement.
“I have a pretty good idea.”
“So, is Gabe being straight? Is there really a drill that can get us the hell
out of here?” Zach asked.
Linc waited a beat, noting the worry on the other man’s face. “Yeah, there is.
Remember Quecreek?”
“The one where they made the big drill?”
“Yeah.” That rescue was famous in the industry—the only one in decades where
everyone survived. Hundreds of people had worked round the clock on that one.
“Think they’ll bring it in for us?” Zach sounded almost as if he thought they
might not bother.
“It’s most likely already here.”
Zach nodded again, his shoulders visibly relaxing, accepting the information.
“And how will they know where to drill?”
“The air and communication holes are tests.”
Zach stared up at the ceiling, as if listening to the distant grinding that had
become constant background noise. “You think they’ll be better than Utah?” Both
men paused, avoiding each other’s gaze.
“They’d better be,” Linc whispered. “There were never any signals in Utah. They
never heard a thing.” They’d never even found the bodies of the men who’d died
in that disaster back in 2007.
Zach sat a minute longer, then, just as they all had done numerous times before,
he picked up the ball-peen hammer and slammed it against the pipe. The bangs
were as much a message as a release of emotion. Linc worried that the pipe might
shatter.
It didn’t. The seven peals for seven alive rang loud enough to haunt Linc’s
nightmares in years to come.
God, he wanted those years.
Saturday Morning, 5:00 a.m.
JACE STARTLED JULIA WHEN he sat back down on the chair, the steaming cup of
coffee nestled in his hands. He stared down into the drink as if there were some
magical answer there.
“I should have gone home to see Mom.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He met her gaze then and the awful pain in his eyes sliced clear through her.
“I was too busy with my buddy, Jack Daniel’s.” He looked down again, but she
didn’t catch more than a faint flicker of emotion. “I keep track of things
online when I can get to a connection. By the time I’d sobered up, the services
were already over.”
“Even so, Linc would have liked to hear from you.”
“Yeah.” The way he drew out the word told her he didn’t believe her.
“You don’t know Linc now.” She felt anger growing toward this man who had caused
so much pain to so many. “I know you thought he was an adult when you left, but
he was only twenty-one.”
His temper, swift and sharp, surfaced and died just as quickly. “I didn’t make
the best choices then, and I don’t always make them now.” He stood and took a
sip of coffee as if preparing his thoughts. “I only knew about Linc because I
stopped for a drink and saw his picture on some update on the television over
the bar.” The self-loathing was strong in his voice. “The only reason I’m here…”
He didn’t finish his sentence.
“Is to see if he’s dead?” she finished for him. Just saying it hurt.
“Yes and no.”
She stood impatiently. “What do you want, Jace? Money? Absolution? Information?
I can’t give you any of that.”
“I don’t want a damned thing from you.” He turned away. He tossed the coffee cup
into a nearby trash can, the contents splashing over the rim. “You’re not why
I’m here, so get over yourself.”
“That’s enough.” Shirley stepped forward, surprising them both. “This isn’t the
time or place to rehash the past. We’ve got enough going on.”
Jace glared at them both and left the tent. Julia looked over at Shirley. “Thank
you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome,” Shirley said without any warmth or feeling. “But I didn’t do
it for you.” She turned and walked away.
Julia stared after both of them, drained and fed up with being here, with all
these people, with all this noise, with everything and everyone.
She just wanted it to be over.
But she feared the outcome too much to make it a true prayer.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Saturday Morning, Thirty-Nine Hours Underground
LINC KNEW, AS THEY ALL DID, that time was running out. Even with the drills
overhead, it was hard to keep up their spirits.
“Hey, Casey,” Zach said. The sound of his voice surprised the others. The
desperation in it didn’t. “Next weekend’s that fishing competition up at Trout
Lake. I’m game if you are.”
Casey only grunted an answer, but for some reason it was enough. Linc, and, he
hoped, everyone else, took reassurance from the fact that Casey was still with
them.
Hopefully heading to Trout Lake next weekend.
Trout Lake. Linc knew the men were trying to find memories to distract
themselves. Positive things to think about. Good thoughts to go out on.
Linc didn’t have to work at it. There were no stronger memories for him than
that lake. With Julia.
The week at the cabin with her felt like a lifetime ago. Earlier, he’d avoided
thinking about it, but now with the end so close, he had to face it, had to go
anywhere but here.
He’d been a different person then, which, looking back, probably wasn’t a good
thing. That guy had been alive and caring. The changes in both him and Julia had
been gradual. Had either of them even really noticed? He realized that the wedge
between them had begun sometime after they returned from the lake.
He recalled that first night as one of the highlights, albeit a bittersweet one,
of their life together. He let his mind go there, let his memories comfort him.
He’d lain beside her, listening to her sleep. That was why he’d taken her to the
cabin—sleep was what she desperately needed—and yet his heart and body hadn’t
cooperated. They wanted more. So much more.
Maybe it was the quiet in the mine, or the desperate situation, or just being
away from Julia, but the grief he’d locked away suddenly sprang loose.
Julia had wanted a baby as long as he could recall, but until the tiny life
became reality, he’d felt disconnected from it all. They’d celebrated the coming
child as couples do, but the difference in his life was minimal. It was her body
experiencing the changes.
And then came that awful day. Julia had been in the nursery, putting up the
duck-and-kitten wallpaper border she’d spent days searching for, when the first
pain had hit.
He’d rushed her to the hospital, all the time feeling so inept. He’d never get
over the sense that he should have been able to do something to help her, to
help them. It was that same sense of helplessness he’d felt when his father had
been trapped. His inability to take care of the people he loved made him feel
inadequate.
The doctors had fought to save the baby—his son—but in the end, they’d failed.
And he’d nearly lost Julia, too.
Linc didn’t know when the tears came or when he fell asleep. He let his mind
escape. Then suddenly she was with him and they were at the cabin. Together.
Sleep-mussed, alive and incredibly beautiful, sipping at his leftover whiskey,
she looked at him with a desire in her eyes that eclipsed his own.
The firelight was dim, but it provided enough illumination that he could see her
clearly—very clearly. His Julia was as beautiful as ever.
He knew her. Knew so much about her. The feel of her soft skin. The taste of her
kisses. The sound of her sweet cries of fulfillment. What it felt like to be
inside her.
Linc stood, half-afraid that if he sat so close to her much longer, watching
her, needing her, he’d do what he’d sworn he wouldn’t.
This week was about her, about her recovery. That may or may not include making
love, but it would be her choice. Her decision.
Not his, and most certainly not at the level of intensity his body was asking
for. He ran a hand through his hair. Maybe he should go for a run around the
lake. He had to relieve this pounding need somehow.
She stopped him, pressing up against him, her body hot against his. She stood on
tiptoe and gently kissed each of his eyes.
Linc stifled a groan.
Did she have a clue what she was doing to him? She’d always been the one to take
the first step in their relationship. She’d had to dare him to kiss her. The
night she’d stomped across campus…
She’d led the way and he’d so very gladly followed. Not because he didn’t want
her. But because he wanted her too much and was scared of hurting her. Scared of
screwing up the best thing in his life.
But this time was different. He didn’t know where she was headed.
“So, you think you’re ready?” His voice cracked.
“Oh, yeah.” She gave the waistband of his pajamas a hard tug and he smiled back.
“But not yet.” He pulled her closer, if that were possible, and lowered his head
to kiss all the way from her ear to her collarbone. “Or we’ll be finished before
we even get started. It’s been too long.”
“Way too long.”
His lips devoured hers, and he couldn’t seem to hold her tight enough. He had no
intention of ever letting go.
Julia sighed in contentment, and Linc reveled in the feel of her hands sliding
down his spine, to his lower back, over the waistband of the damned pajamas.
What had he been thinking when he’d packed them? Not this.
He pulled back, wanting to see her face. The fireplace flames reflected in her
eyes, casting warmth through her and to him. He trailed kisses over her eyes and
her cheeks.
Julia leaned back as well, pressing her hips tighter to his, letting the light
play over the slope of her breasts. He moved lower, parting the loose robe. His
lips closed over her nipple and his tongue danced over the pebbled tip.
She cried out and pressed her fingers against the nape of his neck, urging him
on.
He was more than ready to oblige.
Her clothes fell away, scattering across the rug in a haphazard pattern. His
robe and pajamas joined the mix and somehow they were stretched out in front of
the hearth.
Their bodies bathed in the dancing firelight, they both looked their fill,
something he hadn’t done in a long time.
Every inch of her glowed. She was ready for him. Very ready, but Linc wanted
this to last.
He moved slowly down her body, alternating kisses and licks to the shadows and
valleys. Of her breasts. Of her waist. Of the marks that would always be a
reminder of what her body had been through. Slowly, softly, reverently, he
kissed each of the tiny lines.
Her fingers clung to him, at first running through his hair then curling and
gripping his shoulders as her desire escalated.
“Linc. Please. Now.”
“Patience,” he whispered, though he had every intention of giving her what she
wanted. His need matched hers. He wanted to fill her, to feel her around him as
her tension built.
Unable to hold back, he thrust into her. He wanted to give, yet selfishly knew
he’d relish the outcome as much as she did.
They moved together. The same rhythm, the same pace as they’d done for ages but
different this time. Sweeter. Stronger. As if they were now even closer in tune.
He tried to hold back, to move carefully, but Julia matched his moves and urged
him on. Clenching his teeth, he barely kept control, feeling her release
building higher, tighter. And then it crested through her, and she cried his
name. He was lost in her, fully and completely.
Moments passed as they returned to earth. The fire popped and Linc’s mind
clicked back into gear. His breath ragged, he lifted himself off her, leaning on
his elbows to peer down into her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For?” He gave her his best wry grin.
“For everything.”
He kissed her then, softly, gently, and knew that he’d never been more afraid.
He swallowed hard and buried his face against her neck. “Ah, babe. I’m sorry.”
“What?”
He doubted she could have been more shocked if he’d dumped cold water on her. He
knew he had to explain. They should have had this conversation before making
love. “We didn’t use any protection. You could get pregnant.”
She stared at him. “And that’s a bad thing because…?” She pushed, and he let her
move away.
He grabbed her robe and handed it to her, then pulled on his own. “It’s too
soon. Besides, I’m not sure I can go through that again. I certainly don’t
expect you to.”
“And you thought we would come up here for a whole week and not make love?”
“No. I brought stuff.” He thought about the box of condoms at the bottom of his
suitcase.
Julia yanked hard on her belt and stood. She picked up the whiskey glass and
nearly took a drink. She stopped with the glass against her lips, as if she
wasn’t sure she could stop once she started, then crossed to the sink to dump it
out. She took her time rinsing the glass before turning to face him.
“It’s not your fault. Mine, neither. I need you, Linc. Don’t you want me?”
He hesitated, knowing his answer would hurt her. “I’ll always, always want you.”
He stepped closer to her, but didn’t reach for her. The very thought of not
wanting her was painful. “But I’m not sure we’re ready for that yet.”
It had taken three years for Julia to get pregnant once they’d decided to start
a family. Even she had nearly given up. He couldn’t watch that hope die again.
“Oh, Linc. I can’t live afraid of what might happen. I’m more afraid of what
we’ll miss out on.” She faced him and reached out to run her fingers along his
jaw.
He flinched, not because he didn’t want her touch, but because he did. Too much
to resist.
Her voice was so quiet that he had to strain to hear her. “I want to have your
baby.”
“I know.”
“A child would be a part of both of us. A part of you that I’d always have.”
He found himself reaching for her again, agreeing to keep trying. Agreeing to
anything that would take the hurt away.
Linc jerked painfully awake. Julia’s words echoed through time and the dark,
cold mountain where he now sat huddled.
He hadn’t kept that promise. Despite trashing the box of condoms, Julia hadn’t
gotten pregnant in the months since. She wanted to see a fertility doctor.
That’s why the distance grew between them, why the arguments began.
Linc truly believed that if they were meant to have a child, they would. Julia
did not agree. Maybe he was avoiding reality, but so was she. Even a doctor
couldn’t guarantee everything would work out. Linc saw only the heartache
waiting for them if they went down that path.
Now, sitting here in the chamber that would most likely become his grave, his
emotions waffled back and forth. He was thankful he wasn’t putting a child
through what his father’s ordeal had put him through. And yet…Julia so wanted a
baby, and he’d failed her. He hadn’t left her with that piece of himself she’d
asked for. Linc’s throat tightened up. This time Julia wouldn’t be able to kiss
the tears away.
Saturday Morning, 5:30 a.m.
ANGER, FRUSTRATION AND JUST plain stress all compelled Julia to follow Shirley.
“What the hell do you mean you didn’t do it for me?” She reached the woman’s
side and grabbed her arm. “You’re not walking away from that kind of a comment.”
“How dare you.”
“How dare I what? Question you? Follow you? Try to understand what’s going on?”
Disgusted, Julia shook her head. “Give me a break. You don’t care about anyone
else’s feelings, do you, Shirley? You just want everyone to be calm. Well, I
can’t be calm.”
Julia glared at Shirley. Shirley made her feel uncomfortable and unwelcome,
especially since she’d talked to Ryan about not going into the mine. The lasting
effects of that hostility reached out now.
Julia stood her ground and realized all too quickly that every eye in the tent
had turned toward them. There was no going back now. “Is it just Ryan or is
there something else? I get the feeling your animosity has something to do with
my husband’s job,” she added.
“You’re damned right it does.” Shirley leaned in close. “Since the accidents
over the past couple of years, the government has become paranoid. The
inspectors, like your husband, are too powerful.”
Julia stared in shock. “So, you think it’s okay for mine owners to get away with
risking their employees’ lives?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant and exactly what’s happened for years.”
“What do you know?”
“I know plenty.” Julia felt the blood rushing through her body. Now she saw what
Linc was up against every day. She didn’t know how he kept doing it, but she was
proud of him. “Does the name Alton Mining ring any bells?”
She refused to look at her father. She didn’t have to wait for Shirley to
answer. The color drained from the older woman’s face. “I see it does. My father
owned that mine.”
Everyone in the industry had heard of the Alton Mine tragedy that had killed
fifteen men and trapped ten others for two days. The accident had caused the
creation of an entire system of mining regulation, the system that now required
men like Linc.
“I know both sides of this industry. My husband does what he does because he
believes in it. Because his father was one of the men who died.”
Shirley’s eyes shone but Julia didn’t take time to consider why. She barely
breathed, much less thought.
“Every mining law in this country is written with honest, innocent men’s blood.
Linc works to make sure that blood wasn’t shed in vain.” She stopped, the
stricken look on Shirley’s face telling her she’d gone too far. Her hand flew to
cover her mouth as she became painfully aware of what she’d said.
Silence was the only answer for a long time.
Mamie stepped forward, leaning heavily on her walker. “Julia, you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“It’s no one’s business,” Shirley said.
Julia rounded on her again. “It sure is if it’s why you treat me like a
second-class citizen. We’re all in this together, Shirley. Everyone is at risk
of losing someone they love.”
Shirley’s face crumpled and suddenly Julia knew. Knew that she’d hit a nerve,
knew that she’d discovered why Shirley was angry with her, and most important,
she’d discovered the source of Shirley’s greatest pain.
“Who did you lose?” Julia asked softly, as nonthreateningly as possible, her
anger receding and allowing her to see the other woman’s agony.
Shirley just sat staring at Julia. Her eyes filled with what seemed like
long-held-in tears.
“It’s time to let it out,” Mamie said as softly as Julia had, adding the gentle
touch of her hand on Shirley’s shoulder.
Finally she spoke. “My son. Wayne.” Shirley’s voice trembled.
The tears spilled over, but Julia was impressed that Shirley sat up straighter
and met Julia’s eyes. And, for the first time, she didn’t look defensive.
“He was nineteen. He’d been wanting to walk in his daddy’s shoes since he was
old enough to know what Gabe did. He wanted to be just like him, and he loved
the idea of mining.” She took a deep breath and paused to wipe her eyes. “Gabe
kept trying to get him to think about going to college. When Wayne found out he
could go into the mine at seventeen, we couldn’t keep him in school. He worked
at the Piney Ridge Mine for two years before the explosion. They say he didn’t
suffer, which I’m thankful for. But…” Her voice trailed off and her erect
posture fell. Sobs filled the tent.
Julia was overwhelmed by sympathy for the other woman. She resisted the urge to
wrap her arms around Shirley. She knew neither of them was ready for that.
Losing a child was never easy. No matter when it happened. Julia looked into
Mamie’s eyes where tears for Shirley and herself lurked. Rachel sat with her
arms around her belly. Julia was sure she was promising herself she’d never let
her child go into a mine. Shirley, however, provided a potent reminder that no
matter how hard parents tried, they just couldn’t control their kids or the
world they lived in.
Julia’s thoughts filled with the memory of her own lost baby. She doubted the
pain would ever go away.
“It makes me so mad when you say we shouldn’t let the kids go into the mine.
Makes me feel like I failed as a mom.” Shirley’s anger came back full-force. It
was what kept her going.
“I’m sorry it came across that way.” Julia needed to make peace between them.
“That’s not how I meant it. You tried. You tried your hardest, I’m sure. But you
couldn’t accomplish it without help.” Julia knew she was heading toward very
shaky ground. “You needed help from the mines. They shouldn’t let the kids in.
That’s what I was getting at.”
Rita looked at Julia with grateful eyes and knew she was thinking of her
sons—especially Ryan. They both faced Shirley, waiting for her reaction.
It came, but it wasn’t what Julia expected. Shirley shifted in her seat.
Scooting to the edge, she lifted her head and she glared at them through her
tears. But Julia knew the anger wasn’t for her.
“You’re wrong,” Shirley whispered and looked away. “I didn’t try.” She tilted
her head toward the vacant podium that had become the symbol of the mine’s
management. “I thought the life would be good for him. I…I encouraged him.”
There were murmurs of pain from all the women. And a heartbreaking echo from the
men. Julia moved closer to the older woman and put her arm gently around her
shoulders. Losing a child was the ultimate pain. Living with the belief you’d
contributed to that loss would be nothing short of hell.
Looking up, Julia saw not only Jack Sinclair standing there, but her father. The
regret in Raymond Alton’s eyes was tempered by a glimmer of pride she hoped was
for her.
Shirley crumbled then and Julia held on tight.
Patrick entered the tent at that moment and the air seemed to vanish from the
room. No one moved as they met his bleak stare. He remained in the doorway, but
despite the distance, his words couldn’t have done more damage if he’d thrown a
bomb into the middle of the room.
“The bit broke.”
Saturday Morning, Thirty-Nine-and-a-Half Hours Underground
A LOUD BOOM VIBRATED through the mountain over head. The men all ducked, raising
their arms to cover their heads from falling rock. Had the tip of the drill
broken through? Linc looked up but saw nothing, heard nothing but silence.
Inside the shelter where they all crouched, the silence became a presence that
cloaked them, like the black mine dust Linc could feel on his skin.
“What happened?” The kid spoke first, his voice quavering just a little.
No one wanted to say it, but they knew it wasn’t good. Not good at all.