A Message for Julia (13 page)

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 man
agement. “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.

Saturday Morning, 6:30 a.m.

P
ATRICK'S WORDS TRIGGERED
a landslide of silence. He must have said more because his lips kept moving, but Julia's brain was on overload and nothing made sense. He left and she turned toward the exit. She felt Shirley move away, disappearing into the crowd and her own pain. Julia's temples pounded and her neck ached. Nothing helped. She had aspirin in her purse, but knew it wouldn't react well with all the coffee she'd drunk.

They aren't going to make it.
A scream bubbled up inside her. Her throat convulsed and she wrapped her arms around her middle, afraid she'd throw up. Breathing deeply, she hid her face in her hands, but she couldn't seem to make her lungs expand.

She felt the tentative touch of a hand on her shoulder. Missy was trying to comfort her, but she flinched away from the girl's touch.

“Sorry,” Missy whispered and stepped back.

“No. Don't be.” Julia fought for control. “I just don't know if I can take any more.” She'd been trying to keep up a good front for everyone. So her parents wouldn't worry. To support Missy and the other women. But the tension from dealing with Shirley had left its mark.

The strength she'd been struggling so hard to shore up crumbled. She couldn't pretend anymore. Couldn't keep up the pretense that she was okay. She wasn't okay, not now and maybe never again.

She needed out. Out of here. Out of this whole mess. She didn't want to spend another minute here. She stood and hurried out of the tent, nearly at a run.

“Let her go,” she heard Mamie tell someone. Bless her.

Julia ran down the hill, past the mine opening where the workers barely looked up. Dawn had just broken and the lamps from several of the men's hats were still on as they trudged from the hole.

She rounded the corner of the double-wide trailer that served as the mine office and halted in her tracks. There, at the edge of the dirt lot, sat Linc's truck. The navy blue and chrome shone in the early-morning sun.

The tangible evidence that he was here hurt and yet soothed her. She slowed her steps, approaching the big blue beast with trepidation.

Linc never locked his truck. Julia wasn't sure he even knew how. She pulled the door open and the stale car air from the days it had been sitting neglected washed over her. The familiar smell of the truck soothed her. Dirt. Grease. Vinyl. But no trace of the pine-tree air freshener she'd put in here months ago and that still hung from the rearview mirror.

Usually she hated the smell of the truck, but now it was as if Linc were here, nearby. She climbed up on the driver's side of the bench seat and let the familiar warmth surround her. She closed her eyes and pictured
his face. She thought about the last time she'd seen him in the truck, but found that a painful memory. She'd been so mad at him that night. Instead, she opened her eyes and looked around.

The man was
not
a housekeeper by any stretch of the imagination. The far window had nose and drool marks from the stray terrier Linc had found and taken to the shelter a couple of weeks ago. Candy wrappers, soda cans and his toolbox sat on the floor of the passenger side.

He had left a windbreaker and his heavy leather jacket draped over the back of the seat. She reached for the jacket and slipped it on. Its warm weight and the faint spice of his aftershave brought tears to her eyes.

This place was so…so Linc. An ache formed in her chest, and she struggled against the hopes and dreams that now seemed lost. Curious, she leaned across the seat and opened the glove box.

Her fingers found the rumpled papers he kept there. Tire receipt. Ticket stubs. Then something smooth and metallic. She frowned. What was that? She curled her fingers around it and pulled a round metal object out. She could only stare. A key. What the heck was Linc doing with a…a…a hotel-room key? Her stomach dropped. Oh, God. She had to blink several times to clear her vision. Was that why he'd been so distant? Was there someone else?

Then she read the name engraved on the metal disk. Risky Business. She laughed. Five years later, the memory of that hotel still amused her.

They'd gone on vacation for Linc's birthday one year
and hadn't bothered to make hotel reservations. They weren't planning on anything spectacular, nor had they planned on a high-school soccer tournament in the town where they stopped. They'd had the choice of the one hotel.

Exhausted from a day of driving, they'd taken the room sight unseen. At the threshold they could only stare at the red velvet bed and the disco ball on the ceiling. But once the lights were off, and Linc's warm body settled next to hers…

It hadn't mattered what the room looked like. They were there. Together.

And he'd kept the room key all this time.

What else was in here? She pulled out more receipts, the insurance and registration. The only thing left was a scuffed jeweler's box. She didn't have to open it. She knew what was inside.

Linc's wedding band. He'd seen too many men lose fingers around the machines, so he always took it off before each job.

Julia curled her hands around both the ring and the key, solid reminders of the past.

Saturday Morning, Forty-One Hours Underground

T
HE SILENCE WAS UNGODLY
. No one spoke for what seemed ages. Linc could hear their ragged breaths as if the very mountain that entombed them breathed with them. He closed his eyes, finding the dark behind his eyelids more comforting than the false night of the closed chamber.

“What the hell happened now?” Though Robert spoke softly, his question boomed in the small space.

Linc heard movement as if someone were trying to sit up or stand more comfortably. He couldn't see enough to tell for sure.

“Bet the bit broke. Happened at Quecreek, too. They'll fix it or send down another.” Gabe's weary assurances didn't do much to cut the tension.

“How…how long will that take?” Ryan's young voice seemed ready to shatter.

“Dunno. Days. Hours. Depends on if they planned for it and brought any extra steel.”

“They'll have planned for it,” Linc said firmly, hoping to ease the mounting stress levels. He'd seen the basic plan this mine kept on file. The rescue teams would tweak it as they learned the actual conditions. There were big differences between an explosion and a cave-in. In these hills, where the layers of stone and coal were so mixed and unpredictable, the plan could change numerous times before they even started to drill.

“How the hell do you know?” Mike's tone was as hard as the broken steel above them was sharp—and ready to cut anyone in its path.

“I've seen the filed plans and those big drills are kept on standby as part of standard procedure these days,” Linc explained.

“Standard procedure?” Robert spat the words. “What's standard about any of this?”

“Unfortunately, too much.” Linc hated to admit it. Hated to give Robert any more fuel for the internal fire burning him up. It was true—the mining industry was
one of the most dangerous. Men didn't just die on occasion. They were dying practically daily.

All the dreams and plans Linc had had, everything that had driven him to become a mine inspector, suddenly seemed worthless. What difference had he made?

In the fifteen years since his father's death, what had changed?

Not a damned thing. Men were still at risk. Still dying.

The only ones who'd been spared were the animals, the donkeys and the birds that had once gone down into the mines beside the men. They'd been replaced by machines.

But the men were still needed to operate those machines.

Linc could feel the anger rising in his gut. He wanted to hit something, and he hoped Robert kept his damned mouth shut. He wasn't sure he could control the need for mayhem that he felt right now.

He rubbed his hands over his face, knowing and uncaring that he smeared the oily coal dust over his skin. What was the point?

What was the point of all his work? Of his life.

He hadn't changed the industry. He hadn't given Julia a child. His younger brother had vanished, preferring to be a runaway on the streets than be part of his family.

He couldn't hold back the hard curse word. It echoed back at him—or maybe the others were repeating it in a resounding chorus of frustration.

Linc's eyes flew open. Though he couldn't see, he
realized something he should have been aware of a long time ago. Oh, God. Why had he been so blind?

Was this what Julia had felt when she'd decided to stop teaching elementary school? Had her passion for the job been tainted by failure?

Like the waves of an ocean lapping against the beach, his realizations came and went. The memories of that last argument rose like high tide. It had been an argument he now knew had been a waste of precious time. An argument they'd been having in bits and pieces for months. He could still hear himself yelling.

But now he finally understood. Of course she couldn't teach the little ones. Not after losing the baby. Not after their fruitless efforts to have a child. Not after his repeated refusals to even consider fertility counseling. Why hadn't he seen that?

He'd crushed her dreams as surely as the rockfall had trapped him here.

She'd escaped the only way she knew how. To still teach, but high school instead. Older kids that wouldn't be such an immediate reminder of what she'd lost.

He hadn't been able to see it from her perspective before. He'd just seen his own anger and frustration.

Selfish, selfish bastard,
he cursed himself.

“What can we do?” Mike's voice was a shadow of itself and brought Linc back to the current disaster. For the first time, Linc was thankful Ryan was here. Mike was staying strong for his brother's sake. It was a struggle, but he was surviving by the sheer will of pride.

“Just be patient and wait,” Gabe said. “The best thing
we can do is stay safe and together. Makes their job easier.”

“We can make a plan of our own.” Linc turned toward the disembodied voices. “If they're sending down the capsule, we'll have to decide what order we're going up in.”

He heard movements that sounded like men perking up. He breathed a sigh of distracted relief.

“How should we do it?” Ryan's curiosity seemed to overcome some of his anxiety.

“Injured first.” Linc recalled a recent plan he'd read. “Casey's got to be able to get into the capsule and stand.”

“He can't do that.” Zach chimed in, frightened for his friend.

“Then we'd better figure out how to help him do it.”

“Can we use our belts, maybe?” Ryan offered.

“Yeah. That might work. We'll have to strap him in. It'll be a challenge.”

The silence wasn't as painful now. They had something to do, something constructive to concentrate on.

“It's our only choice.” Mike seemed calmer now.

“Gabe, you'll be next,” Linc said.

“Like hell.”

“He's right.” Robert surprised Linc by agreeing with him. “With your chest hurting like it has? None of us are willing to tangle with that wife of yours.”

There was laughter all around.

“Zach, you're next. They'll expect us from heaviest to lightest.”

“Nah. Let Mike go up. His wife's probably about ready to have that kid. Then I'll follow him.”

Silence was the agreement. “Okay, Mike then you, Zach.” Linc savored the leadership role. It helped him focus on anything but the reality of their situation.

“Then it's Robert, me, then Ryan.”

That was the order the rescuers would expect. But Linc knew it wouldn't happen that way. He'd never leave the kid down here alone, not even for a few minutes. But he wouldn't say anything until the time came. They needed a concrete plan, not one that would cause more contention.

It might be the last thing Linc did to try and make this mining world he reluctantly loved better, but he would do it.

He nearly laughed at himself, hearing Julia's voice telling him to stop taking care of everyone. He swallowed the sound, not wanting to explain himself.

No, this was his. Just his.

Saturday Morning, 8:00 a.m.

J
ULIA KNEW SHE'D DOZED
a couple of times in the past couple of days, but had no idea when she'd last slept. She hadn't let herself slip into anything remotely close to that level of disconnection.

But sitting here in the cab of Linc's truck, his things and his scent all around her, she was tempted to give in to oblivion. She knew she needed to rest, but despite her heavy eyelids she fought it. Fought the fear of waking up and finding out that this was still real.

The ring box she'd found in the glove box was as warm as the rest of the truck.

She pulled out the ring, slipped it onto her thumb and curled her fist over it. It might be the only thing she had left of him.

She leaned her head back on the seat, closing her eyes. She felt brittle, as if the slightest noise could break her. A breeze could carry the bits of her away. She fought to hang on. She ached for arms to hold her and found only herself.

“There she is.” Missy's voice startled her. Julia groaned, wanting to sink down onto the floor of the truck and hide. If she'd had more energy, she might have.

Julia looked out the window just as Missy opened the passenger door. Tricia stood behind her. Both of them looked as haggard as she felt.

“You okay?” Tricia asked cautiously. She had a little more sense than Missy. Age did that to a person.

Julia nodded. “Yeah. Just looking at stuff.”

Tricia lifted a plastic grocery bag. “Me, too. I went to Zach's locker.” Tears glistened in the woman's eyes. “If he gets out, he ain't ever going back underground.”

Julia understood completely.

“I…I was just—” Julia lifted her hand. Tricia would know what the ring was. What it meant.