The Mine (25 page)

Joel smiled and embraced his old-fashioned girlfriend.

"I do," he said. "I do more than you could possibly know."

Feeling better, they marched arm in arm into the heart of Seaside for more taffy, bumper cars, and carousel rides. Joel won a teddy bear with ten throws instead of thirty.

When they returned to the house with their own purchases and prizes, they found Tom barbecuing steaks out back and Ginny preparing salads and desserts in the kitchen. Joel and Grace offered to help with dinner but were politely refused. So they looked at the ocean from the railing on the deck until Ginny called them into the dining room. Tom followed moments later with a plateful of beef. He took off a chef's apron, joined his girl at the head of a well-appointed table, and threw an arm over her shoulders. Ginny smiled as she addressed her slightly puzzled guests.

"The first thing I want to say is 'thank you.' I want to thank each of you for joining us here. You've made this trip complete. I've been to this house and to Seaside many times over the years but I can't remember a more enjoyable weekend. You've both been wonderful. I can't imagine better friends or better company."

Joel was tempted to join in with something nice, but he knew a rehearsed speech when he heard one. She obviously had more to say. So he let her continue.

"I also want to apologize for our hasty exit this afternoon. It was insensitive and rude. I normally have better manners. But Tom and I needed some time alone. We needed to work out a few things before we returned to Seattle."

"Work out what?" Grace asked.

Ginny placed her newly adorned left hand on Tom's shoulder and beamed at their friends.

"Our wedding plans."

CHAPTER 51

Seattle, Washington – Saturday, October 4, 1941

The bachelor pad was the undiscovered jewel of East Fifty-Second Street.

The house had everything two young men could possibly want: a state-of-the-art kitchen, a full bathroom, a patio and a barbecue in back, and a large recreation room with a built-in wine rack, dartboard, and mahogany bar. Leather sofas and recliners sat atop a hardwood floor in the living room, while bedroom sets that had recently gained Doris Delamarter's seal of approval filled each of the two sleeping quarters.

Tom Carter had found the gem in a classified ad in late August and cut a deal with the owner to move in on October 1. Joel had purchased the furnishings on September 30, two days after winning two thousand dollars on Ted Williams. The Red Sox slugger had batted six for eight in a season-ending doubleheader to finish with a .406 average and deliver serious cash to a time traveler he would never meet.

"Are you sure you don't want to add a few lamps?" Mel Carter asked, falling into a loveseat that had once graced his showroom. "I also noticed that your dining room table is scratched in a few places. It may be time for an upgrade."

"I think I've already contributed nicely to your bottom line."

"That you have, Joel, and in more ways than one."

Joel smiled. He had made Melvin Carter a wealthier man, just as he had made his son a happier man. Despite some reservations, he had agreed to be Tom's housemate until June, when Ginny had scheduled the wedding of the century. The furniture was an early wedding present for a couple that would almost certainly never marry.

Tom's engagement to Virginia Gillette had taken nearly everyone by surprise, from Joel and Grace to the would-be bride's patrician family in Forest Grove, Oregon. When the two announced their plans to Ginny's parents on Labor Day, Victoria Gillette nearly fainted. Old money did not marry new. Good girls did not gamble on gamblers. Republicans resisted Democrats. Presbyterians did not mix with Methodists. The Carters proved more welcoming. They threw a reception for the couple the following weekend and offered to help Ginny prepare for an event nine months away.

Joel laughed to himself as he replayed the last five weeks in his mind. He had forgotten how crazy weddings once were, not only for those planning them but also for those who had to live with the consequences of a "socially unacceptable" union.

On October 4, however, he cared only about the socially acceptable gathering in the living room of his new digs and making his important guests comfortable. He stepped away from the loveseat when he saw Sandy Carter approach with a small plate of food and moved to a spot in front of the fireplace. The heat took much of the chill off a cold, rainy night.

"Is there anything I can get you, Mrs. Carter?"

"I have plenty, Joel. Thank you for asking."

"How about the other lovely ladies in the room?"

"I'm fine," Grace said.

"Me too," Katie added.

Sitting with Ginny on the larger couch with plates on their laps, they worked on a light dinner of finger sandwiches, deviled eggs, apples, and cake. When Tom made the rounds with a bottle of champagne, all three held out glasses.

"Thank you for the furniture, Joel," Ginny said. "The pieces are beautiful, as well as comfortable. It was a generous gift."

"Don't mention it. It was the least I could do for you. Besides, I got an excellent price from a trusted retailer."

Mel smiled as he finished the last of his cake.

"Next time you bet on baseball, give me some warning," he said. "I'll set you up right."

"What are you going to do with the rest of your winnings?" Katie asked.

Invest in war bonds.

"I don't know. I might look at a car. I can't bum rides off this lug for the rest of my life. Or I might just sock the money in a bank. I haven't given the matter much thought."

In fact, Joel had given it a lot of thought. But he decided not to push his luck. Thankful that Katie, like most of the others, had not asked many questions about three astonishing sports bets in less than four months, he tried to limit discussion to what he would do with his new windfall and not how he had obtained it.

Allowing himself to relax for the first time all evening, Joel grabbed a glass of champagne, sat on the hearth, and quietly reflected on those who had gathered in his cozy living room. He thought about how each had affected his life and how they had become not only his friends but also his family.

The Carters were easy to assess. When he glanced at the middle-aged couple on the settee, he saw his own parents: a man and a woman who occasionally bickered but who brought out the best in each other and those around them. He also saw in their faces the thin but clear line between a life of ease and life on the streets. Had he saved a poor or ungrateful man on June 2, rather than the son of a gracious and well-connected family, he might be diving in dumpsters. Their friendship and generosity defied value.

The same could be said of Tom Carter and Virginia Gillette, who had welcomed him into their tight circle of kindred spirits. Because of them, he had made a near seamless transition from one happy, comfortable world to another. He wanted very much to be a part of their lives for years to come but wondered whether he would have the opportunity. He hated knowing that his existence was probably tied to their fortunes.

Joel glanced at the couch and saw Katherine Kobayashi finish a piece of cake. He still did not know her well, but he knew enough to admire and respect her. He appreciated that she had accepted him unconditionally, at a time others had asked questions, and had exercised discretion when he had pursued the forbidden fruit. He also admired how she had stepped out of her own, largely segregated world to integrate into one that was about to slap her down. He wondered what would become of her next year when the passion and prejudices of her countrymen replaced empathy and reason.

Then there was the woman at the center of the storm, the one who made him think differently and act more responsibly, the one he could not live without. Grace Vandenberg had made September one of the best months of his life by performing a dozen little courtesies, like bringing him cookies after long days at work, taking him for spontaneous spins in Uncle George's pride and joy, and gently weeding his eclectic wardrobe of orange ties, oversized shirts, and mismatched socks. Every Wednesday morning she had left a thoughtful note on the door of the Airstream. Every Thursday night she had made him dinner.

Joel smiled when he thought about how some from his time might have viewed these decidedly domestic acts of kindness. Many would have dismissed Grace as a love-struck lightweight, a submissive and even obsessive throwback who had sacrificed her individuality on the altar of her man. But he knew better. Grace was laying the groundwork for what she hoped would be a long and happy relationship, a relationship that would include not only a successful marriage and children but also a teaching career and separate interests. She was tending to her investment. Having forfeited much, including several friendships, to bring him into her life, she was not about to lose him through neglect. They had not spent a single day apart since returning from Seaside.

Joel knew, of course, that there was more to consider than whether they could make it work. Much more. He had significantly influenced and altered lives he was never supposed to touch. He could not imagine life without Grace. But he wondered whether he had made the right decision in pursuing her and wondered how it would all play out. If their commitment to each other was crystal clear, the impact that a rapidly approaching December morning might have on their relationship was not. Things could get complicated very fast. Recognizing the futility of worrying and speculating about events he could not control, he pushed the thoughts aside. They could wait for another day.

His introspection, however, had not gone unnoticed. While he was studying his guests, one of his guests was studying
him
. Upon finishing her dinner, Grace got off the couch and walked to the fireplace. She sat next to her host and put a hand on his knee.

"You've been kind of quiet. Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm fine."

"It doesn't appear that way. I saw you staring at Tom and Ginny," Grace said, eyes focused on his. "You're thinking about them, all of us, and how you fit in. Am I right?"

Joel considered the question but only after considering the questioner. In just a few weeks, she had become remarkably adept at deciphering his facial expressions and responding accordingly. Jana had had the same gift, but she rarely put it to use. As preposterous as it sounded, Grace knew him better than he knew himself.

"That's part of it. I've really been lucky. Had I not bumped into Tom and met all of you, my life would be much different. I think about that a lot."

Grace grabbed his hand, squeezed it, and gave him a reassuring smile.

"We're not all that different, you and I. This is my family too."

The gesture snapped Joel out of his funk but not off the topic. He kissed her on the head and walked to a table in the back of the room and a half-empty bottle of champagne. He pulled it out of a bucket of ice and filled six flutes before returning to the warmth of the fireplace. After topping off his own glass, he turned to face his guests.

"Thank you all for coming to our housewarming. I feel a bit strange, given that this fine-looking couple over here will kick me out in a few months and put me back on the street," he said, drawing laughter. "But that's OK. I feel privileged just to be here. It feels good to be surrounded by people who care. If I haven't said it before, I'm saying it now. Thank you. Thank you for making me a part of your family and giving me a home."

Joel raised his glass in a toast and acknowledged the warm smiles in the room. He pondered the beauty of the moment and the unique opportunity it had given him to square his accounts. He loved these people, all of them, and he wanted to tell them.

He knew he might never have the chance to tell them again.

CHAPTER 52

He was a ripple in a sea of humanity but not a lot more. Every time Stanford came to the line late in the second quarter and the noise in the stadium began to rise, Joel Smith stood up and threw his hands to the sky. But no one stood with him, at least in a fashion designed to achieve the desired result.

"What are you doing, passing gas?" Tom asked, laughing. "It will take more than that to disrupt their offense."

"I'm trying to start a wave. Come on. Help me out."

"Tom has a point," Ginny said. "You're just annoying the people behind us."

"I don't believe it. You two have a chance to be forty years ahead of your time, and you're sitting on your cans."

"I'll tell you what. I'll stand up the next series, but I'll do it only once," Tom said, smiling. "I have a professional reputation to uphold."

"Never mind."

Joel sat down and lamented the missed opportunity. Seated near the top of the north grandstands, he surveyed the horseshoe-shaped arena on the shore of the lake and looked for anything familiar. The capacity crowd of 43,000 was sufficiently noisy but surprisingly tame. Cheerful cheerleaders in knee-length skirts worked the student section with pompoms and megaphones, but none availed themselves to a body pass or flashed the flesh in ways that might trigger alumni coronaries. No one batted around a beach ball or held up derisive signs. Even the fraternity rows along the fifty-yard line seemed sedate.

"Does the band ever play 'Tequila'?" Joel asked, knowing that a stupid question was sometimes the best way to stir conversation.

"What?" Tom asked, looking at his friend like he had arrived from another planet. "I think you had a little too much coffee this morning."

Ginny smiled at Joel and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm enjoying myself, if that is any consolation," she said. "I love homecoming."

She did too. For Virginia Gillette, the past week had meant more than a football game. It had meant academic receptions, a dedicated series of articles for the
Barker
, pep rallies, bonfires, and dances. It had meant spending quality time with her alumnus fiancé and pondering
her
post-graduate future. For Joel, homecoming had always meant frat parties, tailgaters, and a Saturday watching his school tee off on Cal or Oregon State.