Читать книгу A Message for Julia - Angel Smits - Страница 10

Thursday Afternoon, 4:00 p.m.

JULIA REACHED OVER and turned on the car’s radio. Usually, after a day with her students, she appreciated the solace of silence. Now she needed something to drown out her thoughts.

Tomorrow would be her and Linc’s seventh anniversary. Would he even remember? Or care? She shook her head. Linc might forget, but at one time he had cared. A lot. She blinked away the sting in her eyes. She refused to let him hurt her anymore.

Focusing on the road, Julia took in the sights of the small town she’d called home for just over a year. It seemed as though their problems had all started when they’d moved here, but she realized it wasn’t the town’s fault. It was actually a nice little place.

Parilton stood nestled between two hills the locals generously referred to as mountains. To Julia, who had spent her youth going skiing in the Rocky Mountains on vacations, they appeared small.

Still, they were familiar, and with spring in full bloom, the entire valley was green and colorful with blossoms.

The sight helped lift her mood as she hurried across town. She wanted to get to the house before Linc—her soon-to-be-ex-husband, she reminded herself—got home from work. She hoped to get all of her things out without facing him.

Why did that thought sit so uncomfortably in her chest? She wasn’t up to another fight. The last one still hurt, but not to see him?

She drove through the narrow streets of the town. Past the bank—the one and only bank—past the hardware store, past the Clever Curl Salon. One of the two stoplights in town turned red just as she reached it. The car stopped, but her thoughts kept going.

Did she and Linc even have anything left to save? Since they’d moved here, everything had changed. Without warning, the distant memory of Linc making love to her filled her mind. She closed her eyes, letting the image of his beautiful body soak into her internal vision. She could almost feel him, smell his clean scent, taste his warm breath…

“Oh, my.” Her eyes flew open and she cranked the air conditioning. It had been too long since they’d had make-up sex. But when they had…

Memories and pain made her step a bit too hastily on the accelerator when the light changed. She refused to think about that anymore. It hurt too much.

She passed the grocery store and slowed. Parilton wasn’t big enough for more than one, and it didn’t even merit a national chain. But the local grocer carried nearly everything anybody needed. The bare cupboards of her newly rented apartment came too easily to mind.

The empty parking spot in front was like an invitation. She pulled into it and sat staring through the grimy windshield. She’d never felt so alone.

Minutes later, she was rushing through the aisles, filling the basket with all the staples to make meals for one and trying to outrun her thoughts. It wasn’t much, she realized as she looked at the pathetic pile of goods in the basket. Only one person stood in the checkout line. She could get out of here quickly.

The older woman checking groceries smiled at her. Rita Sinclair was Ryan’s mother.

Julia’s anger at Linc resurfaced. Why couldn’t his inspection report mention the number of kids like Ryan working the mine—kids who should be in school? Her anger was at the system, but he hadn’t helped at the meeting the other night. When had he lost faith in her?

“Hi, Julia.” Rita smiled as she ran the items across the beeping scanner.

“Hello, Rita. How’s everyone?”

“Fine.” Rita examined the contents of Julia’s basket, left eyebrow rising. “That’s everything?”

Julia still didn’t like the familiarity of small-town life. That’s why she often drove into Pittsburgh to do her shopping. “Yes,” she hedged and Rita didn’t make any more comments. “That’s $27.57.”

Julia handed over two twenties, and, as Rita counted out her change, she curled her fingers gently around Julia’s hand. Julia looked up and was surprised to see the sheen in Rita’s eyes.

“I want to thank you for all you did to try to get Ryan to stay in school.”

Julia stared at her in surprise. “I…I wasn’t sure if you agreed.”

“My husband didn’t. He thinks what was good enough for him is good enough for his boys. I’d like better for them.” Her voice broke on the last words.

“Me, too,” Julia whispered. “I haven’t given up.”

Their eyes met and for a long moment neither spoke. Someone moved into the line, and Julia didn’t bother looking to see who.

Rita transformed from a mom back into the efficient grocery clerk and handed Julia her receipt. “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

Rita’s words haunted her all the way to the car. That was what she’d tried to convey to Linc, though not very well. Why couldn’t he understand? Why couldn’t any of them understand? She quickly put the groceries in the car, avoiding the pain that went along with those thoughts.

She needed to move on, and today was the day for that to begin.

She drove too fast through town. She wanted this over and done with. Pulling into the drive, Julia sat there staring at the little house they’d bought within weeks of moving here.

She’d fallen in love with it the instant she’d seen it. She hated that Linc was the one still here, but she’d been the one to walk out. She’d left it and him behind.

The shades were all drawn, which grated on her nerves and gave the house a dejected look. She loved the shades open, loved watching the sunshine pour in on the old wood floors. She tore her gaze away and took in the entire place.

It looked sad and neglected. This was ridiculous. She’d only been gone six days.

She shoved the car door open and walked up to the porch. She hesitated when she pushed the key into the lock then mentally berated herself. This was still her house, damn it. She stepped inside and decided maybe it wasn’t.

The air was stale and warm. She longed to open the windows to let the rooms breathe, but she wasn’t planning to be here that long. She turned to finish her packing but stopped in the bedroom doorway.

Frowning, she stepped inside, over two pairs of Linc’s shoes. Her heart sank. She’d worked so hard to make this a room for relaxation, for privacy, for romance.

And now look at it.

“Linc, you idiot,” she whispered. “I can’t believe this.”

The bed wasn’t made, and as she sat down on the rumpled down comforter, she realized the same sheets were still on the bed as when she’d left. A pile of clothes grew in the corner by the rocker. Three beer bottles sat on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

What was wrong with him? He wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but he’d never been a slob.

And alcohol? He wasn’t one to drink…not in bed…not unless… Suddenly a memory of their honeymoon and a bottle of cheap champagne surfaced. No.

Julia shot to her feet. This was not her problem anymore. Determined to get this over and done with, she went to the closet and yanked out the first load of hangers. They grew heavy as she lugged them to the car. She’d piled several empty boxes in the back of the car, and she pulled them out to make room for the rest of her clothes.

She took the boxes to the bedroom and tossed her sweaters inside. She’d just opened her lingerie drawer, where a Pandora’s box of emotions waited for her, when she heard the distant ringing of the phone. She ignored it, staring at the full drawer. Each silky garment held a memory of at least one night…

She didn’t want to do this. It felt as though she was ripping her entire life to shreds with her bare hands. “Damn you, Linc.” She grabbed a handful of silk and threw it into the box. She didn’t care if the lingerie wrinkled. She’d never wear it again, but she wasn’t leaving it behind, either. “Damn you. Damn you. Damn you.” She crammed handfuls into the box in time with her words.

The phone started ringing again. Why wasn’t the answering machine picking up? She stood and stalked to the kitchen where the only phone hung on the wall.

After seeing the bedroom, she’d thought Linc would’ve trashed this room, as well. But he hadn’t. It was exactly as she’d left it.

Had he even come in here? Walking around the counter, she realized that, yes, he had been here. The trash can overflowed with takeout containers and paper plates. And the remnants of the answering machine that had been smashed to pieces.

Curious, she opened the pantry. The same three boxes of cereal she’d left sat there, untouched. How about the fridge? She hesitated to open it, knowing she’d left half a gallon of milk.

She breathed a sigh of relief. The milk was gone, but all that sat on the shelves was a six-pack of beer and a dozen sodas. She grabbed a cola, enjoying the feel of the cool metal against her hand.

“Serves him right if he starves to death,” she mumbled and closed the fridge. Linc was a grown man. She refused to worry about him—he certainly didn’t worry about her. The sound of the phone ringing yet again startled her, and she turned to glare at it. She didn’t live here anymore, so why should she answer?

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.