The Mine (21 page)

Saturday's date had gone as well as the dance, starting with an afternoon in Tom's boat and concluding with dinner, two movies, and drinks at the Mad Dog. Linda had not held back this time, ordering two beers and two cocktails, but was otherwise her same captivating self. Joel had spent much of the night wondering what he had done to deserve attention and affection he now knew he could never return in equal measures.

When the strollers reached their all-too-familiar departure point, Joel led Grace away from the sidewalk to a large oak tree that shaded two Victorian houses. Both homes appeared unoccupied and no residents walked their street or worked their yards. Joel did not want to let her go, but he knew that even ten more minutes together was not an option. Grace had promised Katherine Kobayashi she would be back in time to enjoy an authentic Japanese dinner she had planned for her housemates.

Joel backed up against the tree, grabbed Grace's hands, and pulled her in. He studied her face for a moment but did not say a word. For the first time since he kissed Tara Schmidt behind the maintenance building of Madison Park Elementary School, he had butterflies in his stomach – big butterflies, like those of the late Mesozoic Era.

"I love you, Grace."

Grace smiled, put a hand to his cheek, and met his gaze. She appeared receptive to his message but unsure about how to respond.

"I know."

Joel glanced at the ground and then at the girl. Was this a rejection or a rain check? He tried to look cheerful but could not force what he did not feel.

"That's not quite the reaction I had hoped for. Have I blown it?"

Grace shook her head. She dropped her hand and took a step back.

"No. You haven't," she said. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"About how far we've come in just a few weeks and how I've underestimated you. This ring would have scared off most men, but not Joel Smith. You saw something you wanted and went after it. You do that with a lot of things."

"Is that bad?"

"It can be. But, in this case, it was not. I'm glad you didn't give up on me."

Grace grabbed one of Joel's hands and continued.

"I'm also thinking about decisions I have to make. Do you work on Saturday?"

"No. Why?"

"You don't need to know, not yet. Just be on the corner of Baltic and Forty-Second at seven in the morning. Come alone and bring a hat and a jacket."

"Why?"

"No questions. Just be there."

She kissed him on the cheek and walked out of sight.

CHAPTER 43

The early bird rose with the sun.

Groggy and sore from a night on a non-ventilating trailer mattress, Joel rolled out of bed, took a shower, and ate a bowl of oatmeal over the kitchen sink before any of the Carters stirred like a mouse. Only Max, the family cat, noticed his stealthy exit from 4125 Baltic Avenue. The two-year-old Abyssinian followed him out the door.

Joel had not heard from Grace since Sunday, when he had bared his soul under an old oak tree and left with little more than a chicken peck and mixed messages. He did not know what this was about or why it had to start so early. He knew only that he had an appointment to keep and that he would not be late. He arrived at the rendezvous point thirty minutes before Grace pulled up in the second most impressive vehicle he had seen that week. The vermillion red 1936 Ford Deluxe V-8 coupe with white-walled tires looked as inviting as its driver.

"I'm sorry I'm late, but I had to fill up the tank. There are not many stations open at this hour," she said. "I should have done it yesterday."

Joel peered through an open window at the woman behind the wheel and pondered her apology. He wondered if it was even possible to get angry with her, for tardiness or any other misdemeanor. He laughed to himself and decided it was not. With a light cotton jacket in one hand, he opened the passenger door and jumped in.

Wearing a white blouse, a green plaid skirt, and a sweater, Grace pulled away from the curb and sped down Baltic Avenue toward East Forty-Fifth Street. From there she headed west to Route 5 and then south at a steady clip of fifty miles per hour. When she finally left the city limits, she gave her captive her full attention.

"Do you want me to roll up my window? I don't want your hat to blow away."

"You can leave it down."

"I bet you're wondering what this is all about."

"The thought never crossed my mind."

Grace smiled.

"You're not going to make this easy, I see." She fumbled with some buttons on the dash as she passed a slow-moving vehicle. "My aunt would disown me if she knew what I was doing. This was my uncle's pride and joy, the one he left her when he died, and I'm not supposed to take it out of the city, particularly with strange men in cowboy hats."

"Am I strange?"

"You are very strange, but that's part of your charm."

"I see."

Grace took a deep breath.

"In any case, I want you to know that there is no reason to be alarmed. You're not being kidnapped, at least in the formal sense," she said. "I just thought that before I burn any bridges I should get to know you better – away from campus, away from the theater, away from Seattle."

With those words, Joel sighed with relief. He never doubted Grace's interest. But he also knew that he'd have to do more than grab her interest to convince her to break off her engagement to a United States naval officer.

"Do you often kidnap strange young men and take them out of the city?"

"No. You're the first."

"That's good. You had me worried for a while," Joel said, conceding silently that he was still susceptible to the Stockholm syndrome. He got comfortable in his seat. "I like this car. You say it was your uncle's?"

"He bought it a month before he died, five years ago. My aunt returned it to the dealer and tried to get his money back. She explained that she didn't drive and had no use for a car, but he would give her only half of what it was worth. So she held on to it."

"And handed you the keys."

"No. It's still her car. But I've been able to drive it since my freshman year. I used to come home, to her house, on weekends. It was more convenient than the alternatives."

"You mean the bus?"

"The bus, walking, hitching."

"You used to hitch rides?"

"I still do on occasion."

"Grace, that's insane."

"Why?" she asked, with grin that suggested she was pleased she had found a subject that interested, even irritated, him. "Is it because I'm a poor, defenseless female?"

"Yes! There are a lot of crazies out there who would love to do bad things to good people, particularly poor, defenseless – and very pretty, I might add – females like you."

"Have you ever hitched a ride?"

"Just once. I got stuck outside an abandoned mine."

"See. You survived."

"I did. But the guy who gave me a lift was a Buick dealer, not an ax murderer."

"And you, of course, can tell the difference."

Joel sighed, shook his head, and smiled at the lovable, quick-witted woman at his side. He had clearly met his match. He stared ahead at a remarkably uncluttered highway and tried to figure out what Grace had up her sleeve.

"By the way, Miss Vandenberg, seeing as you're kidnapping me and all, don't you think you should tell me where we're headed?"

"There," she said, pointing to the southern horizon.

"Puyallup?"

"No. There. The mountain."

CHAPTER 44

Grace nailed her target, on the first attempt, with pinpoint accuracy. The orange-sized snowball, formed with great care on a trail high above Paradise Inn, hit Joel on the back of his right shoulder as he emerged from a grove of young pines.

"What the . . ."

"That's for scaring the forest creatures. There are restrooms, you know."

He ducked as another ball came screeching in.

"And that's for turning your back on me."

Spotting the belligerent at twenty yards, Joel formed three balls and commenced a barrage of his own. He hit Grace in each leg and the chest.

"Would you like more?"

"Yes!"

For the next fifteen minutes, Grace gave as well as she took. She hid behind rocks and threw what she could when she could and ran squealing from her defenses when the return fire from the bad man in the cowboy hat became a little too hot.

The experience brought back pleasant memories of her seemingly distant youth – memories of hide-and-seek in the streets of Usumbura, of Tumbang Preso on the lawns of Luzon, and of mud fights along the Yangtze. But even in those special places she could not experience the sheer joy of a snowball fight in July. Above six thousand feet in Mount Rainier National Park, she could.

Disappointed that the snowfields at Paradise, one of the snowiest places on earth, had succumbed to summer, Grace had insisted that Joel take her to higher ground. After a thirty-minute hike up a well-traveled path, she had found what she had come for.

"OK. That's enough. I give," Joel said when he realized his aim was no match for her limitless enthusiasm. "If I fight any longer, you'll put me in the hospital."

Emerging from two boulders and the high ground for the last time, Grace walked down a thin patch of snow and approached her prisoner with an ear-to-ear grin. She put her arms around Joel and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said. "You made my day."

From the battleground on the edge of the snowline, they walked down the trail to Uncle George's favorite toy and retrieved a large wool blanket and a picnic basket. Joel had offered to buy their meals in the historic hotel, but Grace would have none of it.

"I invited you, remember?"

So they hiked from the mile-high lodge up a less-traveled path to a meadow with an unobstructed view of the 14,410-foot peak. After giving the site a quick inspection, they spread the blanket on a flat spot bordered by daisies, cinquefoil, lupine, and aster.

Grace pulled two sandwiches, cheese, grapes, and pie from the basket and set out a lunch she had planned all week. When she and Joel finished eating, they broke out a buck-fifty bottle of table wine and enjoyed a cloudless summer afternoon and spectacular alpine scenery. Mount Rainier had never looked better.

"Are you having a good time?" Grace asked.

"Do really you need to ask? I'd have a good time watching you eat crackers."

She laughed.

"I'm glad we came up here. I needed this."

Joel grabbed her hand and looked her in the eyes.

"No, Grace,
I
needed this. I wasn't sure where I stood after our walk on Sunday. I've never been in this situation. This is new ground for me."

Grace met his gaze. She liked hearing those words. She liked it a lot. Humility was good. But she would need to see a lot more before jumping aboard the Buckaroo Express.

"You don't have feelings for Linda? Or anyone else?"

"I like Linda. I had two nice dates with Linda. I've had girlfriends too. Lots of them. But none like you. You make me bat-shit crazy."

Grace smiled.

"There are shots for that, you know."

He laughed.

Joel revealed more over the next hour. He said he had been smitten since his night on the bench and had continually sought opportunities to see her. He shared his positive thoughts about their mutual friends, living in Seattle, and working at Carter's Furniture and Appliance. He did not share anything significant about his first twenty-one years, eleven months, and three weeks – an omission that did not go unnoticed.

Grace knew she would probably not get all the answers in one afternoon, but she had expected more – much more. As the day wore on, she became increasingly concerned that the answers might not come at all. She did not have the luxury of time. With Paul returning to Seattle in three weeks, the clock was running.

She was about to ask Joel about his family when three couples in sunglasses walked past the picnic site on the narrow trail. All appeared to be of college age. Grace felt a chill, not unlike the one that swept through her at the Phoenician when Paula Caldecott came a calling, but it quickly passed. They were 110 miles from campus, not 110 feet. If there was one place in Washington where she could escape nosy neighbors and malicious whispers, it was this meadow.

When the hikers rounded a corner and dropped out of sight, Grace closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. She loaded several items in the basket, brushed a few crumbs off of her skirt, and raised another subject that was on her mind.

"I understand that congratulations are in order."

"What do you mean?"

"Ginny said you won a thousand dollars on Joe DiMaggio."

Joel laughed.

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. Fifty-six is a rather unusual number on which to bet twenty dollars. Do you want to tell me how you knew his hitting streak would end there?"

"I didn't bribe any players, if that's what you mean."

Grace smiled sadly. She appreciated the deft way he handled the question but not his content-free reply. She suspected that there was a lot more behind his remarkable wagering success of the past five weeks and wanted candor. Secrets were not good. She picked up a bouquet of daisies and asters that Joel had illegally harvested near the lodge. She brought the flowers to her nose, inhaled, and stared wistfully at an affectionate couple sitting on a large log in the distance.

"I know you didn't. But that's not what troubles me. There is so much about you that I don't understand. There is so much about you I don't know."

"Do you need to know everything?"

She winced as she took in the words. It was clear now that the answers she needed would not come in a neatly wrapped package or come anytime soon. Joel Smith would not be a work in progress but rather a leap of faith.

Grace lifted her left hand a few inches off the blanket and rubbed the bottom of a shimmering gold band with her thumb. She studied the ring for nearly a minute, hoping to find wisdom in its shine. She remembered the night Paul had proposed, a night the world seemed blissfully free of complication. She dropped her hand and faced the enigmatic man at her side. It was decision time.