A Message for Julia Page 4

  What if it was Linc? He knew she was going to be here today. Didn’t she want to talk to him?

  It kept ringing, loud in the quiet house. Might as well get this over with. “Hello,” she snapped.

  “Mrs. Holmes?” A stranger’s deep voice came through the line.

  Probably a salesman. How did they know to time this stuff? “Yes?” She sighed, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to talk, either. Maybe she’d sign Linc up for whatever they were selling. Magazines? A burial plot? She knew she was being petty, but anger was easier to deal with than the hurt.

  “This is David Hutchinson with the State Police. There’s been an accident at the Winding Trail Mine.” His voice was too distant, too rehearsed, as if he’d already said this a dozen times. “The family staging area is at the high-school gym.”

  Everything inside Julia drained away. For an instant the world tilted sideways just a bit. She closed her eyes, shutting away her emotions. No. No. She heard a thud, then a metallic rolling sound in the distance as she dropped the unopened soda.

  This wasn’t possible.

  They’d been through the disaster drills dozens of times. Just because she received a call didn’t mean a thing. Everyone was called and until all the families were there, no one would know who was getting the bad news.

  Company policy. Long-standing practice. Damned frightening reality.

  She fought not to panic but knew the turmoil in her stomach was just that. She didn’t remember hanging up the phone, but it was back in its normal place. Had the man even really called? Was this a dream? Please wake me up.

  What if…? Her knees nearly buckled. Where was Linc? She stared at the kitchen. What had she been doing?

  Through the pounding in her ears, she heard the crunch of tires on the drive. Julia looked out the window, hoping, praying that it was Linc’s truck. She’d give him an earful for scaring her half to death.

  No such luck. A patrol car pulled in behind her sedan. She watched as the two officers climbed out. They didn’t even have to knock as she met them at the door.

  “Hello, Julia.”

  “Hello, Hank.” Their next-door neighbor was a good man, always waving and smiling. He and Linc often stood out back and talked about guy stuff—fishing, football and lawn-mower parts. The other officer looked familiar, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of a name.

  “I thought you might need a ride,” Hank said. He didn’t bother to explain. Her face probably told him more than even she knew she was thinking and feeling.

  “I think I can drive.” She doubted she’d even remember how to start the engine.

  “I’ll drive your car so you’ve got wheels to come back home when you need to.” Hank nodded toward the other officer. “Dennis will follow in the squad car.”

  She nodded. On autopilot, she grabbed her purse and keys and closed the door. Settled in the passenger seat, she looked back at the house as Hank climbed behind the wheel of her half-loaded car. It looked the same as it had just a few minutes ago—just as it had when she’d driven away on Friday, leaving Linc and it behind—and yet everything was different.

  She was different. Numbness took over. Numb was good.

  Thursday Afternoon, Two Hours Underground

  THE ONLY PERSON WHO SEEMED capable of movement was the kid. Ryan moved about, trying to help Casey settle more comfortably on the hard stone floor.

  The rest of them sat silently, watching the dust motes dance in the beam of their lights.

  Linc had been through dozens of disaster drills. As a mine inspector, he’d set up several, coordinating with all the necessary teams: Search and Rescue, Fire, Emergency Medical Services and even Navy Dive teams for mine flooding. He’d coordinated, instructed, observed and participated. He knew the risks of mine work.

  But he’d never faced the real thing. He swallowed the lump of panic in his throat.

  “What the hell happened?” Linc growled softly, afraid that any noise would bring the rest of the roof down on their heads.

  Gabe answered first. “That’s a good question.”

  “We hit something too hard to be normal.” Robert spoke from the darkness. He’d turned his lamp off. “Sounded like a rock bolt to me, but it should have been another six feet to the left. And we weren’t cuttin’ that high.”

  “Look.” Gabe pulled the guide map he’d picked up in his assignment box before the shift. He handed the frequently folded and now grubby map over to Linc.

  Pulling the light off his hard hat, Linc studied it. Taken from a larger map, probably one the owners had purchased from the Bureau of Land Management, it was worn in several places. He noted the marks that indicated the rock bolts’ position. The eight-foot-long bolts that were drilled into the rock to stabilize the roof were normally six feet apart.

  He stood and paced off the perimeter. Then he figured the distance again. Gabe watched him carefully. He could feel the older man’s gaze drilling into his back.

  He knew that Gabe was the kind of man who’d take the responsibility for whatever went wrong. But Linc’s gut was telling him this wasn’t the crew’s fault.

  “Gabe, look here,” he said.

  The crew chief’s footsteps came up behind him. “What?”

  “See this outcropping?” Linc pointed to the rock and then the map. “There’s supposed to be two rock bolts between here and there.” He pointed to another mark on the map.

  “Yeah. We must have cut the one.” Gabe jabbed the map with a grubby finger.

  “No. We were at least six feet from there, like Robert said. And even if we cut that one—where’s the second?”

  They looked at each other. Gabe paced off a few more feet, stopping at the edge of the slide. He shone his light up and stared as Linc watched his eyes widen. Linc moved over to stand beside Gabe and looked up.

  There in the circle of the lamplight was a dark hole. Where the ceiling bolt was supposed to be was nothing. No sign of any bolt. Anywhere.

  The hair on the back of Linc’s neck tingled. All the reasons he’d become a mine inspector came clearly to mind.

  Acts of God or Mother Nature were one thing.

  The hand of man was something altogether different.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Thursday Afternoon, 4:30 p.m.

  HANK DROPPED JULIA OFF at the family staging area at the high school. It was in the same gym where she’d just attended a pep rally.

  She walked through the familiar doors and looked around. The bleachers were full, but the laughing, smiling high-school students had been replaced by the sad, worried faces of miners’ families. Some of those same kids were here again, their smiles erased by fear.

  The only sounds in the room were those of restless bodies, tense whispers and her footsteps as she crossed to the bleachers. Her heels were entirely too loud on the polished wood floor.

  She settled on the end of a bench, a bit away from the crowd, and wrapped her arms around her waist. She needed to hold herself together.

  No one had said a thing yet. There was no word as to exactly who was in the trapped crew. This wasn’t one of those times where no news was good news.

  Voices came from everywhere around her. Soft, hushed voices. Wobbly, worried voices. Broken, pained voices. As a teacher, Julia had learned to eavesdrop in order to stay a step ahead of her students. Turning that skill off now was impossible. The fear and apprehension were alive and dark here in the room with her.

  Sitting on the edge of the hard seat, she tried to hang on to her sanity. It wasn’t easy. She looked around and the anguish she saw in the other faces cut through her. She couldn’t look at them. It hurt too much to see their pain.

  What was she doing here? she asked herself. She’d left him, ended their life together. She didn’t owe Linc anything.

  With a quick glance around the crowd, Julia felt a trace of guilt. No one knew the truth about their marriage because they hadn’t told anyone. If she hadn’t come, what would they think of her? Of Linc?<
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  If he was dead—

  She shuddered. Linc. She repeated his name in her head, praying that somehow that could make him appear before her. For the first time in days, she closed her eyes and pictured his face. Not the face that had been lined with anger and red with rage as he argued with her. Not the face of the man who silently drank his coffee each morning before work and barely spoke to her. Not the face of the man who strode from the house the other night.

  She saw the boy she’d had a crush on all through high school. The boy she’d stayed up late with cramming for finals in college. The man whose face shone in completion as he made love to her.

  The angry things she’d said that last evening at the house echoed around her. She closed her eyes. She didn’t mean them. She swore she didn’t. Pain clogged her throat and she fought the urge to curl in on herself.

  “Ms. Holmes?” a young voice said beside her.

  Julia’s eyes flew open and she looked down to see one of her former students, Miranda Olsen, standing beside her on the bleacher below. The girl had to be six now. Her dark auburn curls fell from Hello Kitty ponytail holders on each side of her head. She’d grown up since she’d left Julia’s kindergarten class last year.

  “Hello, Miranda.” The teacher in her stepped forward and the scared-to-death wife slunk back into the dark corners of Julia’s mind. “It’s nice to see you. How are you?”

  “I’m in first grade now.” She confirmed Julia’s earlier thoughts. “I’m here with Mama. Daddy’s in the mine.”

  Julia felt the bile rise in her throat. The idea of this child suddenly being fatherless was too much. Just too much. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you here?” The little girl tilted her head sideways.

  “My…my husband…” Children didn’t know a thing about legal separations and divorces. They shouldn’t anyway. “My husband is down in the mine.”

  Miranda reached out a pudgy hand and patted Julia’s fists. “It’ll be okay, Ms. Holmes. My daddy will take care of him. He takes care of all of us.”

  “Oh, honey,” Julia resisted the urge to pull the girl into her arms and hug her tight, to absorb some of that naive confidence. She was afraid that if she held her, she might not be able ever to let go.

  “Miranda?” A woman’s voice came from behind Julia. “Come back up here.”

  Julia didn’t have to turn around to picture the woman’s face. She remembered her from parent-teacher conferences.

  “But, Mama, it’s Ms. Holmes. She’s really sad. I need to help her.”

  Even a six-year-old recognized her pain. Mortified, Julia sat up straighter. “Thank you, Miranda.” She covered the tiny hand with her own. “You have helped me. I feel much better now,” she lied. She couldn’t let the girl take on that responsibility. She knew she’d succeeded when Miranda smiled.

  “Okay.” Miranda leaned closer, and as only a child could do, she put her hand against her mouth as if to whisper a secret. “It’s okay to be scared. Daddy said he’s scared sometimes, too.”

  The girl’s image swam behind the tears that flooded Julia’s eyes. The silence grew and Julia reached out to give a gentle tug to one of her ponytails and urged her to mind her mother.

  Please let him be okay. Let them all be okay.

  Miranda climbed back up on the seat beside her mother, and Julia didn’t dare look around at her or at the rest of the crowd. Instead, she stared at the gym floor, thinking of another floor, another high school, another time.

  She and Linc had known each other all their lives. At least they’d known of each other. In first grade, the same age Miranda was now, they’d both been in Mrs. Schwartz’s class at Preston Elementary school, just outside Philadelphia. Linc had been a wild hellion at that age. He’d gotten his kicks from hiding things, like frogs and bugs, in the girls’ desks or lunch boxes.

  She almost let herself smile at the memory of how many times he’d been sent to the principal’s office. That hadn’t stopped him, of course. He just became more creative. She’d sworn she hated him.

  Until high school.

  Suddenly he’d seemed different. Taller. Less disruptive. Handsome. She hadn’t understood then what she’d felt for him. Desires, some good, some bad—and some she thought were supposed to be bad—kept up a constant battle within her.

  He’d been withdrawn their junior year, and she knew it had to do with his father’s death. Linc had had to face the reality that sometimes people were lost deep in the mines. This was his worst fear.

  She might be angry with him, and their marriage might be a mess, but she didn’t wish him harm or…

  Please, God. Don’t let him die alone in the dark.

  Thursday Afternoon, Two Hours Forty-Five Minutes Underground

  “WE GOT WALLS TO BUILD, boys.” Gabe’s words shattered Linc’s thoughts. Everyone except Casey stood.

  The crew chief was right, work would keep their hands and anxious minds busy. Besides, building walls was an old miners’ survival strategy. After a cave-in, walls helped stabilize the existing roof supports and, by barricading themselves into a small area, the miners could, they hoped, conserve their body heat and block out any toxic gasses.

  “I’ll see if I can get the battices. That end of the work site’s still clear.” Robert left to retrieve the canvas cloth stored near the work site for just this reason.

  Gabe nodded. “Ryan, head over to the machines and see if you can find any of those bottles of distilled water.” Ryan turned to leave. “But be careful. Don’t move anything to get them.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ryan vanished into the darkness, nothing but a bobbing light to indicate his existence.

  “Zach, Mike, when Robert gets back, help him get that canvas up.” He paced off space. “Here to here.”

  “Got it,” Mike assured him. Zach nodded.

  “I can help.” Linc hated having to remind anyone of his existence. Gabe looked hard at him; Linc knew he wasn’t really a part of this team.

  “All I want you to do is keep an eagle eye on that meter. Check everyone’s tanks. Regularly.”

  Gabe hadn’t forgotten him, after all. He’d assigned each man the job he could do best. A little of Linc’s anxiety eased as his faith in Gabe rose.

  Robert returned, Ryan close on his heels. The three bottles of water were a welcome sight.

  “Look what else I found.” Ryan held up a battered lunch pail.

  “I told you not to move anything.” It was obvious the pail had been buried under something.

  “It wasn’t under anything but a couple of rocks.”

  “All right. Let’s get this done.” Already, Gabe’s voice was raspy. The thick air was affecting them all. They had to get the barrier up before they lost all their strength. As it was, the task took more effort than normal.

  The space they sectioned off was small and close, but it was the best hope they had of surviving until the rescue teams came for them.

  They struggled with the large canvas, stumbling a couple of times because of the difficulty breathing. Twice, Zach left and had to crouch down to catch his breath. Finally, the large sheet in place, they all settled down to regain their strength.

  Linc felt the exhaustion and lethargy creep over him. He stared at the white canvas wall—what he could see of it in the dim light, anyway. Somehow, it seemed they were admitting defeat by putting it up, but it was the only thing they had. Now all they could do was wait and try to stay alive.

  Leaning back against the cold, rough wall, Linc closed his eyes. Were these men’s faces and that damned wall of fabric the last things he’d ever see? Had this been what his father had experienced?

  Memories of that long-ago day surfaced. His father’s last day.

  The news had come that there had been a cave-in. The families all gathered aboveground, just as they probably were doing right now. Absently, Linc looked up, as if he could somehow see through the mountain of rock. Had they gotten in touch with Julia? Would she even come?

 
; Did she even know he was alive? Did anyone believe they’d survived? Were they going to dig for them, or had everyone given up and left the mine to be their tomb?

  Questions and images flew at him from everywhere inside his head.

  He remembered his mother’s collapse that day. She’d never been the same after that. The broken, wailing woman had looked and sounded nothing like the mother he’d known for sixteen years.

  As she’d crumbled, he’d put his arms around her, tried to comfort her, tried to absorb her tears into his young embrace. He’d tried but never quite succeeded.

  He thought about Julia and couldn’t imagine her crumbling like that, but he hadn’t expected it of his mother, either. Did Julia even still care enough to hurt for him? Panic shot through him. At least his mother had had him and his brother to comfort her.

  Julia had no one.

  And that was his fault. He’d moved her away from her parents. Away from her friends to a strange and—according to her—inhospitable town. He’d done worse than his own father. He’d left her totally alone.

  Guilt clawed in his chest as if some creature that had possessed him for years now fought to dig its way out.

  She wanted children. Desperately. He’d been the one who hadn’t really cared. He’d rarely considered having kids of his own, swearing he wouldn’t leave them as his father had left him. But he’d always tried to give Julia everything he could.

  A sound, a sob, broke from his throat. He smothered it with a groan and rose to his feet. He smacked his shoulder on the rock wall but suffered the pain in silence, accepting the punishment for his own selfish stupidity.

  “What are they doing up top?” Ryan’s voice shook. Linc realized all of their emotions were kicking in without any physical activity to distract them.